Confessions of a Rec Council Football Mom, Day One: "Listen, My Son"

I am journaling my perspective through this new season of life called Rec Council Football for my 8 year-old.

Saturday:

Joel started football at the local rec council this past Saturday. He was excited, nervous, cute, and rarin' to go. The boy eats, drinks, and breathes the game of football. He knows the full Ravens roster, their jersey numbers, who's injured, who's not. The kid is a proverbial chip off the old block.

It was a beautiful day in Maryland, on the hill behind the equipment shed where evaluations were taking place. I loved watching my son and others' sons as they took tentatively but eagerly to the field. My heart was warmed by my husband and other dads who were bending halfway over to talk to their kid.

"Son, remember what I taught you." "Don't forget what we've been going over at home." It almost felt like holy ground, as if I could finish their thoughts with biblical promises, "that it will go well with you." My attitude was soft and peppy. Having Paul there meant I could relax, knowing that he was competent to answer Joel's questions. I thought of the single moms out there who don't have a man for their sons to turn to about guy things, a trusted father when they really wish they had a man to train and guide the young fellow. My respect meter shot WAY UP for them.

I introduced myself to one of the moms. Her son is quick and short, but robust and ready to tackle a Mack truck. I secretly hope our boys end up on the same team so that some of that Mack-truck confidence replaces Joel's timidity.