First Pick

Earlier this year RE came home from school with a shadow across her face. My motherly instincts spotted it a mile away. After a little verbal finesse I was able to ascertain why her day stunk so bad. She was picked last in kickball.

My own non-fictional montage of PE nightmares instantly began spooling through my mind’s eye: being picked last at every sport (including team wiffleball golf), booting the kickball with all the angst and strength I had and it only reaching the pitcher, never being able to climb the rope to the ceiling, shaking uncontrollably during my flexed-arm hang as I strove to earn the Presidential Fitness Challenge, crying the whole time we were forced to run the mile, etc. I hated PE and I still hate team sports. All those years of being the weak link caused me to molt into a solitary creature that doesn’t play well with others. There truly is no I in team because I prefer to be elsewhere.**

Swallowing my surmounting mental anguish, I tried to think of the nicest way to let RE down. “Sweetie, sometimes in life you just get picked last. It doesn’t mean anything. Kickball will not determine your life's outcome. You can still get in to a great college, cultivate non-sporty talents, and find a major you really love. You will eventually marry someone that will help you forget all the hazing caused by your pale white stick legs poking out of Umbro shorts, and your self-esteem even has a shot at recovering by the time you hit 40. And I love you just the way you are. Want a cookie?”

Disaster averted, RE ate cookies while she slowly accepted her fate and I mentally high-fived myself for being the sensibly honest mother of the year.

Greg came home for dinner and while we were cleaning up (and safely out of RE’s earshot) I mentioned how I saved the day with my choice words and savvy baking skills. Greg nearly hit the ceiling.

This is probably a good time to mention that Greg Lawson has the record for Most PE Classes Taken in the State of Colorado by a Single Male. Power Volleyball I and II, Racquet Sports, Team Sports I and II, Weight Lifting, Rocky Mountain High (rappelling down the school wall)…you name it, he aced it. Plus he was one of those guys with a letter jacket and a tan that spent the summer playing ping pong with his buddy at the Olympic Training Center. He is the most competitive person I know, whether playing Monopoly, comparing sales figures, or driving two cars to the same location. The only things I can beat him at are typing speed and flossing, and that’s because my retainer isn’t cemented in. It is safe to say he is the advocate for school athletics while I am the advocate for the arts.

This is also a good time to mention that Greg played kickball almost every morning of his childhood, and Greg doesn’t do anything for long if he isn’t awesome at it. (Ask him why he quit band.)

I digress. Greg took RE to the store to buy a kickball within two minutes of our conversation. He took her to the park by our house and worked with her past 10 pm. The next morning they got up at 6 and worked for three more hours. She went to school. She showed her stuff. Within two days she was picked first and held her title until her class moved on to a new sport.

Hindsight: I wish I had told my parents how miserable I was in PE. My dad taught me how to flick bottle caps at people and how to sharpen my pocket knife with a whetstone. He also survived the Army and Vietnam. I think he probably had some PE skills in his back pocket.

Note to RE: Kid, thank your lucky stars you have a mom AND a dad that love you. It is the ideal situation to grow up in. Together we’ve got it all together.

*Photo of a chalkboard ad outside Whole Foods, the only store in Utah that has European butter with a fat content greater than 82% (necessary for croissants)

**I genuinely love people. I am a people person. I like team settings. Just not sports teams. I know that many people love being on sports teams. I know that sports teaches all kinds of life lessons. I had to learn my lessons in other ways.