377. Mums and dads

Today it is my turn. I am super proud of this. It is my choice, of my own accord, all me by myself I have taken the decision to leave the fireside and head out into sub-zero temperatures.

I am going to watch Baby play hand-ball. 

Normally my husband goes. He takes one of the siblings along or he goes by himself.

'You should come. It's quite good fun. It's a fast game. Quite agressive these girls.'

But tonight I do not no why - I have been kind of hyperactive all day so maybe that's why I decide to go and watch Baby play hand-ball. It might also be because I am so happy to get into the little pink car and zoom around town. Or maybe it is just because deep down in my mother's heart and soul I can sense by these days will soon be gone. And that I have to make some effort because otherwise the guilty-mother feeling.

So I get a happy feeling (10 out of 10) because I am driving my little pink car and I am feeling the good-mother feeling.

I get there all right. I have picked up Miss Muddy-Boots many times and Baby a couple of days ago so I know where it is. I drive there, park and head towards the sports hall. It is dark out there and this sports hall is in a middle of a park and there are no lights apart from the car park lights. I cannot work out which door it is so I walk around it twice just to see. Just when I am feeling very stupid I see an other mum doing exactly the same, walking around the hall looking for the entrance door. A young man walked out then and looked at us and took pity on us.

'This way in! The match has started.'

I go in and I watch Baby. I shout her name and she ignores me. I do not know if she does it on purpose or if she is concentrating on the game.

So I watch and take a video to post on the family group. And I know Miss Muddy-Boots will like that. She's the one who introduced Baby to the sport. Baby is called Mini Miss Muddy-Boots. Everyone says she plays just the same. Determined. Plays to win. Highly competitive. Agressive. Has already been sent off. It runs in the family. Bunch of unruly kids. I wonder who's to blame.

And then the girls stop playing and kids start playing on the court and people start talking in small groups. I see Baby walk with the other girls to the changing rooms. Well, they've lost. Just by 1 point so it's good. There is a big colourful sign at the back of the room that says accept defeat. I take a picture of the score sign and head off back to the warmth of my car. Baby said pick up at 7:30 so she won't be long.

And I sit. And I wait. The radio plays on. Various things on my phone keep me busy. Then I grow impatient. Text Baby. Call. Nothing. In the end it is past 8 and I decide to go and get her. I know my way now. 

I see Baby and the girls standing around the coach and the score sign with a different score, still a close match and still a defeat for our girls. I feel I am in a kind of time warp but that happens so often to me that I do not pay attention.

Baby comes across the court with her freinds. I call and she doesn't hear me so I walk across the to greet her.

'Oh! You're here!'

It's like she has just realised that Santa was for real after all.

'You're here.' She says again. 

'Yes, I thought I'd come and see you play.' I'm so proud as I say this. 

'Did you see I played so much better in the second half?'

My heart sinks. I realise there was a second half and I missed it by sitting in the car with the heating sending text messages saying how long are you going to take in the changing rooms! And I realise that my husband would have analysed and discuss every single move his daughter had made in the game. Giving encouragement, critical feedback and even tips for improvement. I'm no match to this. I'm the odd one oout in the family.

I'm not so proud now and feel that bad-mother guilty feeling spreading all over me again. So when Baby asks if she can go out with her friends I forget all about the getting a grip on her and say yes.