No Parents Allowed

I think I've always been competitive. At 5 it's charming. At 15 it's applauded. At 25 it's survival. At 32... it's obnoxious, and it has officially seeped into my children's lives as well. 

Usually it's the simple milestone comparisons that get me:

Them: So is Dosen walking yet?

Me: (proudly) Yes! How about little Sammy? 

Them: No, but he's really trying.

Me: (filled with ugly pride) Of course he is. 

Today it struck twice as Luke attended kindergarten & soccer evaluations. He was on his own for both activities, so who I expected him to compete with is a mystery. The sweet kindergarten teachers asked him to demonstrate his recognition of letters, numbers, shapes, and colors. Duh! He can do all of that with his eyes closed. So imagine my horror when I heard him pausing to recognize an uppercase C! Did he just say, Z!  I wanted to bust the door down and ask for a redo. Parents aren't allowed in the room. Hmm, imagine that? 

I'll admit that we haven't worked with Luke on soccer skills since, well, October, but the evaluation is just a series of running, kicking, and shooting the ball. I gave him a pep talk in the car on the way over to the field, and Jake even gave him some practice kicks before headed out. Cue "Eye of the Tiger" or something.  Jake was totally on board with me until I wanted to give Luke a pep talk before EVERY drill. The madness ended with his suggestion that I tend to Dosen while he took L to the rest of the stations. Ouch. 

This all sounds horrible, I know, but I believe so strongly in my boys and their abilities that it drives me bananas to think anyone will ever underestimate them. Being your family's biggest cheerleader is important and needed, but being a psychotic one - not so much. I think this year is going to present a lot of opportunity for me to find balance in my competitiveness. Either that or Jake will ban me from every school or sporting event.