Today, they were down on coaches at rugby. So the head coach comes over and asks me if I’ll be able to help with coaching the 4 year olds who are too young to play in a team. I said yes of course, and got stuck into it with another Dad. And part of me is pleased that I’ve been recognised in the melee of the parents on the sidelines!
Did I have a good time? Yes.
Did I do the right thing? Yes.
Do I want to do it again? Yes!
So why am I feeling worried as to what people will think of me for doing it? Are the women thinking negatively of me, judging me as I ran around getting out of breath, chivvying their children along to get in a line and telling them to not eat their snot. Are the blokes thinking that I’m rubbish at it and don’t know what I’m doing? (Which I don’t, but that’s another story…).
I don’t know. I don’t want to be an embarrassment to my kids but I want to join in and not be someone who just stands there when I can see that they are short on people to coach the very littlest of our players. Why do I care? What’s up with me?
I see these mums and dads on the sides, looking really nicely turned out and think “why don’t I look like that?”. Is it because I’m overweight? Is it my paranoia? God, I’m going around in circles – being proud of myself that I can be relied upon to get stuck and in help and embarrassed that I’m seen as the sort of woman who can be asked to get muddy and dirty and not worry about it.
As I write this I’m cringing. For god’s sake – I’m bringing up my children to know that men and women can both do whatever they like – work, not work, be at home, not be at home, fix and mend things and be coaches when needed. So why am I even worrying about this at all?
If you have a saucepan to hand, can you come and knock some sense into me, please?
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