We had an absolutely lovely weekend in Blenheim in June (yeah, June .. and I’m blogging it now .. sooo tardy) when we drove up for a competition and decided to have an extra day first for ourselves to potter and have a walk and a small explore.
Competitive gymnastics isn’t easy. It requires a lot of patience, a pretty deep wallet and a willingness to ‘trust the process’ because at some points the the ‘tough times’ look really tough, and there is no place for lawnmower parenting. These kids have to back themselves and work like nothing else. They pass up other oppitunities and fun things to train, to turn up and work. They live each success and failure with each other, hugs offered whatever the occasion. The sweetest, kindest cheerleaders. They are resilient and positive and honest.
I am so happy N found this sport and her love for it. It helps her be her very best self and I am just along for the ride. Which is fine, call me dinner lady, taxi, hairdresser or crazy gym mum. I’m here for it.
Not to mention the dads, turning up, supporting, volunteering and keeping going through the cloud of hairspray, cheap motels and female emotion.
And the weekends away, obviously.