Wednesday, 24 July 2013


Hazelwood leavers 2013 neon party

Wednesday, 3 July 2013

The Last Sports Hurrah

As usual, the first mention of the need for a yellow sports top was 10pm the night before sports day. Unusually, Teenboy came to the rescue. Yellow isn't a colour often worn by this family as it tends to clash with the blue tinge of our Celtic skin. Only worn once, before languishing in the bottom of the boy's wardrobe for four years, the yellow thing he produced wasn't in the best nick. The substantial height difference of Teenboy and the Littleun made it far from a good fit. But it was yellow. It was a top. Given the alternative of a yellow duster, the oversized yellow thing would have to do. At least she'd be easy to spot on the field.

Junior Sports Day 2013 teams were named after our Olympic heroes. That's where the Olympic legacy ended: there were no individual competitive races. As that would be inappropriate. Along with the tedium/exclusion factor for the non-sporty kids. Although I'm all for inclusivity, I just assumed tedium was part of the sports day deal. The running event felt ever so appropriate, and in no way awkward watching the fastest runner pitched against a kid with near-zero interest in reaching the finish line anytime soon, much to the irritation of team mates. Personally I always felt relief at the competitive bit of school sports day because I was excused, could catch my breath from the exertion of finding a good sitting spot, enjoy the view and most importantly: avoid humiliation.

Go yellow team go! I can't say with absolute certainty but I think yellow team were Team Jessica Ennis. Now there's someone who could totally carry off the yellow duster look. Because frankly she could carry off any old look and still look schamazing.

The event was tinged with a certain sadness for me, as sports day has been on my parenting calendar for the past 15 years. This was my youngest's last junior sports day as she heads off to senior school in September. These times they are a changing.

For the first time in my parental history of attending sports day there was a parents race. I was wearing flip flops. Fit flops actually. Although that whole fit label is a clear mis-description. I had a horrible fear that I might flip over in the flops or worse - pee my pants. The same fear I felt at school whenever I had to run or do anything sporty. In those days I thought I might pee from the fear of competing. Now, after three children, the fear has more to do with the state of my pelvic floor.

I crossed the line. But not in the way I have previous for. I wasn't first across the line. Obviously. Not last either.

A triumph: for both my bladder and my dignity.