It’s the start of a new chapter in the Book of Parenting for this house. GAA training starts this week, and I am SO not ready…
I’m not ready to give up my evenings. I’m not ready to give up my Sunday mornings. I’m not ready for the freezing sidelines & the filthy gear.
I’m not ready for the non-stop taxi service that seems to come hand in hand with extra-curricular activities.
I’m not ready for dragging a tired pre-schooler along against his will when there’s nobody to stay home and mind him.
I’m not ready for choosing and buying helmets, hurleys, gum shields, shin guards and special footwear.
I’m not ready for the sideline politics and petty Ref ribbing.
I’m not ready for the post-match tears and tantrums from tiredness and frustration. I’m not ready for the anger at not winning or not even getting picked.
Life feels chaotic enough without adding obligations to the mix. Work and school feel like enough obligations for me right now.
My other half assures me that it’s “just training”. I know in my soul that it’s more than that. And that it will be SO much more than that before we know it.
Yes I’m selfish. Yes I am aware that it’s not about me. Yes I know it’s good for them. But ultimately it WILL be about me when it comes down to the logistics of it all.
Scheduling, washing gear, knowing what day it is and what’s needed. Picking, dropping, driving, mopping up tears. That will be me.
So no, I am not ready, but yes, of course we will give it a go.
‘Cos after all, this is rural Ireland, and who even are you if you don’t play GAA?!