Dad, I forgot my cleats...

I could write an entire book on the struggle I face with two things: first, teaching my kids to stay organized and responsible for their belongings, and second, figuring out a back-up plan when the first thing doesn’t work. 

If you are a parent of a child who plays sports (any sport, at any level), you might feel my pain.  There is a fine line between showing your child how to keep their room tidy and their belongings accounted for, and then just thinking you’re doing the right thing staying organized YOURSELF…and just doing it for them. I tell my oldest (yes oldest) a million times a day not to leave wrappers and empty water bottles all over his bedroom when his trash can is within arm distance from the island he camps out on, otherwise known as his bed.  I use my own two feet to kick/shovel through mounds of dirty clothes scattered on his floor that he cannot manage to make in a hamper that sits two feet away.  I can only take so much, then I find myself “taking care of it.”  I mean, it’s my house too…it might be his bedroom, but that bedroom is in my house.  SO I intervene. Yet, in doing so, not only have I created a monster who doesn't have to clean up after himself or keep track of his stuff (because he knows that eventually I will cave and do it for him), but I've now also created the dreadful situation of being partly responsible when items go missing or forgotten.  And by items, I mean sports equipment.  "MOM, where'd you put my black baseball socks?" or "MOM! I can't find my grey jersey!" And it always goes missing at precisely the moment we desperately need it and don't have a second to spare to look for it. 

There’s nothing worse to come out of your child’s mouth halfway into the hour-long drive to the ball field that he HAS to be at an hour before gametime for warm-ups than….. “Dad, I forgot my cleats.”

Seriously, hearing those words (which we have heard come out of all three of our boy’s mouths at some point or other in the last eight years of club ball) instantly causes smoke to shoot out of my husband’s ears.  Actual smoke.

SO….what do you do?  Do you turn back home and go search for them, which means he misses warm-ups? (Coaches love that).  Nope. Can’t do that.  “Mary, how will they ever learn if you keep bailing them out and doing things for them?” Yes, I have heard that once or twice in my life as a mom. 

OR do you get to the park, make them warm up in their street shoes and pray a teammate brought an extra pair that is your kid’s size? (Coach’s love that too…kids who show up unprepared.  Pretty much a guarantee they ride the bench the first two innings). 

Then there’s the WORST scenario of all: After hearing those dreadful words “dad, I forgot my cleats” come out of my (at the time) seven-year-old’s mouth, I turn my head to the backseat of the truck, and notice that he is barefoot.  Yep, BAREFOOT. (Yes, this has happened).  SO not only do you not have cleats, but also managed to get in the truck with no shoes on at all??

Most likely it was because we were rushing.  Because let’s face it, we are always rushing.  We are that family. Now add two more siblings to the mix, who also have games that same day, in different cities.  I know I am not alone.  I have been to enough youth baseball games and stood in enough busy ball field parking lots to see enough moms and dads panicking or yelling over a forgotten item needed for the day.  It happens. 

So, what is the solution? How can we avoid stepping over that fine line between trusting our kids to grab what they need for the day, or intervening and grabbing it for them? I think I might start putting them to bed the night before in their full uniform-cleats included.  But odds are, it’s 9pm and their uniform is somewhere soaking in a bucket of Oxi Clean and hasn’t quite made it to the washing machine.  Which is a “whole other Oprah”: the battle of the uniform.  Correction….the battle of the white uniform.  I will leave that for a different day.