Imagine your six year old son falling madly, deeply and completely in love with a sport. Then you’re hoping and dreaming it would be golf, tennis, soccer, baseball or even bowling. Not too much contact, not too much danger and certainly not a sport that would damage or scar his gorgeous face or disable his lean and limber little body.  Imagine the excitement when he sinks a putt for par or scores a goal or even hits a double in the 9th inning. Just imagine.

Then there is my reality. I am officially a “skateboard mom”. I am bargaining with God in my mind for my son to take up ice hockey or football even over riding a plank of wood on four little wheels on hot, unforgivingly hard concrete.  Isn’t life just funny sometimes? Yes, I am a doctor, yes I can fix him up with my tinctures, remedies and salves…but the real question is how I manage that vise gripping my heart when he is flying off a ramp or working on his new trick. This is the bigger concern-- staving off my heart attack from the fear, the thrill, the joy and the inevitable SPLAT that is all part of being a skateboard mom.

Tiger spent the afternoon at a friend’s house today. We received a call from his friend’s mom that our son had a little fall.  Apparently he was on a treadmill in their workout room and thought it would be cool to stand on it and increase the speed up to a level 10 while trying to keep up and not fall off. Well after that trick failed he ended up coming home with way too many band aids on his knees and ankles.  

When I removed the band aids I was witness to some pretty severe abrasions that will take a week or two to heal. Bad timing all around since skateboard camp starts in a few days and my little man is guaranteed to be a little stiff and scabby starting off his summer. Maybe the slow start to skateboard camp will allow my heart a little reprieve from the unconscious clenching that creeps up on me when I watch him skate, but all bets are off if he wants to join a gym to run on a treadmill!