Today marks my swan song as a sports mom. My youngest, officially an adult now and a senior
at college, wraps up his career as a lacrosse player; I wrap up my career as
team photographer. After three children
and tens of thousands of photographs, I am retiring.
No more night games battling mosquitoes at
soccer, or standing in six-foot high snowbanks at lacrosse, or developing hip
bursitis from hours in bleachers at judo tournaments, or sniffing enough
chlorine to clear out my sinuses eight times over at swim practices, or
jockeying for better camera angles of the balance beam through the uneven
parallel bars at gymnastic meets.
No more team dinners. No more camaraderie at fundraising
events. No more reason to bake dozens of
chocolate chip cookies from scratch multiple times each week. (I miss the cookies already.)
I claim I won’t miss it, this life of a
traveling sports parent, and, in many ways, I’m telling the truth; the
logistics are exhausting. After decades
of being en pointe, it will be nice
to live in the moment rather than worrying about whether or not I saved that
same moment for posterity.
