Oh yes. It is that time of the year again. Except this year there doesn’t look like there is a chance of it being rained off. Thanks for that heat wave.
I’m sure this can’t be the first post I’ve ever written about Sports Day here on my blog and I’m sure it won’t be the last but do you know what, I’m sorry but I’m just not a big fan. Hours and hours of watching other peoples children race while I perch uncomfortably on a bench dying of hayfever is not my idea of fun!
Our primary school make a full day of it and they have formal races in the morning where the parents can all come along to watch then the afternoon is spent with just the children doing non-competitive sport. I’m not actually sure what non-competitive sport is but there you go. The good thing is that for the formal races, the children don’t have to take part if they don’t want to. No more falling flat on your face in the sack race and being laughed at by the whole school as you drag yourself across the finish line in tears. Ahh, those were the days. Not. But actually the bad thing is that my children are about as sporty as me. Which is not very. So they rarely volunteer for any of the races. Which is absolutely fine of course except for the fact that it means that I am only there to watch other peoples children race while occasionally waving to my bored children sat on the sidelines *fixes grin*
But that aside, I wouldn’t actually miss Sports Day for the world. My teenagers had their Sports Day last week and parents weren’t invited. They never have been at their high school. You’d think that I would sigh a huge breath of relief that I finally get out of it but no, it actually made me feel quite put out that I missed my son winning medals in both the high jump and the relay race. And missed out on my daughter coming seventh (out of eight) in the sprint. My big gangly teenagers are a constant reminder of just how fast these years fly by and I want to hold on to each and every milestone along the way. Even bloody Sports Day.
Oh and just for the record, I will not be taking part in the mummy race. And no, I am not one of those mummies who pretends she doesn’t want to take part then whips her trainers out of her handbag and limbers up at the start line like she has been training for this all year. Be warned, these mummies do exist by the way. Nope. I will be the one stumbling around pretending to look for something very important that I have dropped on the grass by my unsuitable shoes until they have enough volunteers lined up. It used to be so much easier when I had a baby to jiggle on my hip on these occasions. A perfect get out clause in fact. But having another baby to get out of the mummy race next year would be a tad extreme. Maybe.
Happy Sports Day folks!