I like sports; he doesn't

Men like sports.  Men love sports.  But in my case I like sports; he doesn’t.  I am a contented mom and a prominent trophy wife.  I enjoyed leisurely moments with my sports-loving, sports-feasting, and sports-dreaming girlfriends after my husband and I married.  But that’s all changed; I do not presently spend very much time indulging in sporting events, nor do I desire to.  Lester, my devoted husband, has patiently endured my frantic efforts to cultivate our relationship.  We have succeeded in making our home a place where love grows, life is fulfilling, fun, and relaxing for both parent and the child.

Our sons Derrick and, his younger brother, Markey are great kids.  They have brought a big change to our family life.  I am presently expecting my third child, which will be born this coming spring.

Parenting helps a sports laden mind to form good choices through scheming that promotes good family values.  For instance, my favorite television programs are usually three hours long, running into overtime say thirty to fifty additional minutes, which makes it virtually impossible to sneak off and watch it with friends at one of their homes.  The last time this happened was just about three and one half years ago this coming December.  It’s not that I feel unfulfilled but, what is the word…stomped down; it’s a bit harsh but near correct.

I realize it’s my choice to have these wonderful children with my husband; we are in agreement, it wasn’t just his idea.  I keep telling myself, "Someday, probably when I am a grandmother, I will be glad I took time to develop a family".

Lester works all day and comes home in the evening rarely as chipper as he left that morning.  I slave over our home. I clean; I mother, and in general keep the home fires burning.  This is my life and I might add, quite truthfully, I like my life.

Our lives have not always run harmoniously.  Making transition from the carefree hours of childless existence to being a newly endowed mother was excruciatingly bothersome to my orderly life.  Oops, correction that would be my disorderly life considering how undisciplined I have always been. My main objective in life has been to entertain myself any way I possibly could, which meant have fun.  I used to live out my desires and do what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it.  I’ve learned not to play at life this way but to make decisions through careful preparation and sensible choices.  My motto in life has become:  you get what you get, when you get it.

My newly gained mother syndrome kicked in one afternoon when my water broke; the labor whacked everything into super start.  “What the hell is this…?” I scream.  Like it or not, I couldn’t stop the onset of labor.  Because, it was a weekend my husband was home, and we soon found ourselves at the hospital. 

He was so very calm; I felt differently. I could have decked him for his part in this pregnancy.  I had wishes, believe me, I had wishes.  I wished most of all I had never known the man.  I wished I had never gotten married.  I wished, well, it doesn’t matter…fact is, what I got for my past actions is fulfillment of my past wishes.

Afterwards, I viewed the hard labor with no regret as I looked into the darling face of my newborn son Derrick.  He was a spitting image of his dear old dad's mother…What?

I cannot believe the many lessons I had to learn to become the mother I wanted to be and am still struggling with.  Selfishness comes wrapped in neat packages and is handed out benevolently at opportune times.  Life as I knew it would never be the same.  Baby, now number one, was most important.

It took some adjustments in priorities for me. I was used to being number one in my life; suddenly, I was forced to take a rear seat.  My husband, poor fellow, probably didn’t know what seat number he held. It appeared to me that he was satisfied taking a back seat.  It seemed to come naturally to him; I’d never heard him complain.  He prided himself on providing for his growing family.

I, on the other hand, would take each day leisurely; I would play all day if that was what suited me.  I had plenty of time, even during my first pregnancy, to join my friends and keep up on the best of the games each season. This was only natural for me; I’d done it all my life.

I remember inviting a couple girlfriends over on Super Bowl Sunday.  Lester had a meeting scheduled and the weather was beginning to blizzard.  At the last minute Lester’s meeting was canceled.  Now, as I stated early on, my husband is not the sports minded partner I am.  He knew I had invited my friends over to watch the Super Bowl, and I’d prepared luscious snacks ahead of time for the event.  He was a good sport and pitched in to help me with the last minute things, which have to be done before allowing company.  He never grumbled nor made any off the wall remarks; he settled in with me and my friends, and watched the game with us.  It seemed to me that he was enjoying himself.  Afterward, I thanked him for watching the game with us, and asked him why he decided to join in.

He said, “Because you are part of me, and I can do what pleases you if it makes you happy.”

I’ve never forgotten his remark.  He is the peacemaker in our family; his character compliments mine. From that day forward, I was aware of the kind of person I really was and I didn’t like myself very well.  I wanted very much to become the peacemaker my husband was.

So, when Derrick was born, I had the built in help that I needed to fulfill my desire to become selfless.  I had this helpless little bundle of life to love, protect, and grow up into a responsible person.  I wanted to be the best mother, to this baby, that a baby ever had.  I never guessed how crazy things would get.

We came home some forty-two hours after I’d been admitted to the hospital.  I was eager to get started with my mothering skills…without a nurse around.  I was fine after we arrived home while it was still day time; the night time is when I found trouble lurking.  I was kept busy fixing formula for feedings, fixing supper, feeding Derrick when he cried, and changing his diapers.  He went to sleep after his eight o’clock feeding, so I went to bed, exhausted.  My husband soon followed.

My next waking moment was not to morning’s light of a fresh new day but to a night light and sounds of a fussy baby getting ready to cry.  I realized the baby would want to be fed during the night, but what I didn’t know was how hard it would be feeding him during the night.  In the hospital the nurse kindly brought Derrick to my bed with a warm bottle of formula; it was a cinch…this was not the hospital.

I got out of my warm covers. This was in the middle of winter, and it wasn't exactly as warm outside the covers as it was inside.  Burr…I was so cold and so tired not to mention sleepy.  “Oh, what had I done to deserve this kind of treatment?”  All I wanted to do was sleep until I was not tired.  Hey, having a baby takes a lot out of a woman!  Pregnancy for forty and a half weeks isn’t easy.

So it went, night after night.  I learned I was not dispensable and that I could survive.  I made my little baby happy when I cared for his needs; this made me happy.

Our second little bundle of joy arrived two years later, and I slipped back into the nightly ritual, again, without batting an eye.  I knew what to expect this time; I began adjusting my life to that of a selfless mother.

When Derrick went through his terrible twos I followed in step with my terrible thirty-twos.  He was as precious as could be, but I couldn’t see that at the time.  The day that we brought Markey home Derrick thought he was wonderful, but that feeling was soon vanquished from Derrick’s attitude.

Too soon, Derrick raucously refused to have anything more to do with this intruder we called Markey.  Quite frankly, I was worried, and all the psychology I had used on him turned against me.  I’d heard of jealously toward a new baby from an older sibling, and, actually, I was somewhat prepared.  I’d bought a baby-doll for Derrick to help him if he did have this problem.  I gave it to him shortly after our arrival home.  He took it and seemed to like it very much.  When I put Markey down for a nap, I helped Derrick put his dolly to bed, also.  This particular doll came with a bottle and wore a diaper along with a little T-shirt.  It was also wrapped in a tiny blanket.  Derrick took his nap alongside his baby-doll.  When he awoke he was in a dejected mood.  He was sad, and pouty, and started to suck his thumb.

Lester and I decided to not make a big deal out of his thumb sucking.  After all, his little world had changed, big time.  Derrick went from bad to worse.  He not only sucked his thumb but began wetting his pants, too.  I was frantic after a week of this kind of behavior; I began throwing up from nerves.  I needed some guidance; I knew exactly where to go for the advice I was craving.

My mom lived out of state; I called her, and we had the needed counseling session.  She suggested Derrick and I spend as much time together as possible. She said he was feeling displaced and possibly dejected with all the attention being placed upon Markey.  Mothers are so wise.  My hope is to emerge with such wisdom for my kids.

The rest of that day I spent all the time I could afford with Derrick; at first he resisted.  I patiently coaxed him into helping me care for his dolly by feeding it the bottle.  I put water into the bottle so the doll would pee.  I thought this would help him realize there was more to do than just feed a baby.  He was fascinated when the dolly wet its diaper.  I used one of Lester’s hankies to change the diaper, and Derrick became a little more interested in his baby brother after that.  When I fed Markey, he wanted to feed his baby. And when I changed a diaper, he had to have his dolly’s diaper changed, too.  He even burped his baby when I burped Markey.  I learned a valuable lesson about sharing my time through all of this.  I found out my little guy needed me just as much as always and that I needed him, too.

Lester also needed my attention.  It seems all I ever did, anymore, was give time to this person or the other.  Don’t get me wrong, Lester is very good with the boys and he helps me a lot. He lightens the load every night when he gets home from work so I can have a little time to myself.  He’d do one feeding with Markey every night plus give Derrick his bedtime bath.  I could always look forward to a relaxing evening.

He explained to me that his helping get the boys to bed gave us quality time together afterwards; with minimum interruptions.  It worked because while he took care of the kids I relaxed and felt refreshed.  He was tired also, so after putting the boys to bed he always took a ten minute nap, which seemed to be all he needed to catch his second wind.  We began to read a book together on child training.  Lester found the book while browsing the child care section at a book store.  He said he’d been looking for a book that would help give us more insight into raising the boys.  I think he was more upset by the thumb sucking and the pant wetting than he let on at the time.  Usually our evening would end with me sharing my day so he could keep up with how the boys changed from time to time.  He knew about the first step to the first tooth they went through, and got to experience their growth along with me.

Lester determined I needed a break from the day in, day out care of the boys.  I didn’t think I needed a break because they were my life; I enjoyed caring for them.  Nonetheless, Lester made plans for an evening out for the following weekend.  I called our baby sitter and reserved the night with her.  I can’t even remember the last time I’d needed her; it seemed like a millennium ago.  I dreaded going away and leaving the boys, especially the baby, in the care of a sitter, even though, I was familiar with her care of Derrick.  I figured if something dreadful happened I would never forgive myself.  I didn’t mean to be distrustful, but I can see now that I was.

Lester and I went on our date that Saturday around six pm.  We enjoyed the food and ethnic atmosphere of our favorite Mexican restaurant for dinner.  My call from the ladies room was probably no secret to Lester because when I came out I felt more relaxed; I’m sure he noticed.  Mrs. Shelly, the sitter, was wonderfully reassuring on the phone.  She is very motherly and knew just how to overcome my fears.  I heard no crying or whimpering in the background, so I knew instinctively she had everything under control, my confidence soared.

We left the restaurant and swung around to a friend’s house to play Euchre and didn’t leave for home until midnight.  I only called home once; I was proud of myself.  After that first outing it was easier to break away and have a relaxing time away from my babies.  I wince at how insecure I’d become when I’ve always been so outgoing and confident.

I overheard Lester make a comment to a friend the other day while talking on his cell.  He admitted he perceived a change in my behavior since before Markey’s birth.  Blushingly, I admit, I am more focused on my family then when we were first married.  I feel badly that I neglected Lester so often in the beginning; what could I have been thinking?

We, now, await the birth of our first girl baby…spring is fast approaching and Lester still has a nursery to paint pastel rose.  The pretty print curtains are waiting to be hung.  The crib has been purchased and is still in the box waiting to be assembled.  My boys have, only recently, been notified that their baby sister will be coming to live with them soon.  Derrick, who is almost three, wrinkled up his face in a grin at the announcement and exclaimed, “Baby’s coming soon.  I wan’a see the baby!  Please, Mama, o-o-oh, I like baby’s let’s go see it, Mama.”

Markey, also, squealed mimicking his older sibling.  They each clapped their hands several times while doing their happy-dance before asking for a treat.  They ended their display of excitement at the table eating jell-o cubes and apple juice.

Yes, we are excited and can hardly wait for Marsha Sue’s appearance.  She will add another dimension to our family as we grow and spread our love around once more.

I still catch some games on television.  I say catch because I only get to view a part of the plays as I take care of my jewels.  I have a desire to teach my children the right values in life, and to follow habits that will bring good judgment throughout their lifetime.  I had to learn these lessons as an adult, but they will know these things early on.

I take back what I said about waiting until I’m a grandmother to feel glad I decided to raise a family; I am glad this very minute.

I view my beloved sports, and keep abreast my favorite teams, by radio or television, when I can.  I do not feel slighted, and my family does not feel ignored.  My husband helped me figure out what is important in our relationship as a family, and my children have helped me focus on the important things…them and not me.