Last Saturday and Sunday could really be described as a ‘lost weekend’ for me. Not I hasten to add that it had anything to do with quantities of alcohol consumed but rather amount of tennis watched!
I left work on Friday with such great plans: housework, Christmas shopping and even filling the freezer with some meals in readiness for the busy month ahead.
And 48 hours later, what had I achieved. Not a thing
But I had had a brilliant time watching some superb tennis as Great Britain finally won the Davis Cup after almost seven decades.
I should never have got involved on Saturday but there I was armful of bedding and heading for the kitchen and the washing machine when I saw the Murray brothers were just about to start their doubles match. The fatal mistake I made was to sit down to watch “just the first few games” but four sets later I was still there.
Thankfully I did manage to rush through and put the washing in the machine when they were changing ends or goodness knows when I would have got it done.
Sunday was no better. By then I was really hyped up and desperate to watch every smash, volley and ace of Andy’s game.
My excuse was that the weather was awful and everyone who was determined to do their Christmas shopping would be heading for the Howgate Centre so I was better to stay out of the road and let them get on with it.
Battling through the crowds or feet up watching some exciting tennis, no contest really. So on Sunday afternoon I sat back and enjoyed one of the most thrilling matches I’ve ever seen.
Don’t know if it is as a fellow mum, but I really felt for Judy Murray during the entire match. Her emotions were written all over her face. I was bad enough sitting in my wee living room watching, but how she survived the entire three sets I’ll never know.
But it’s what parents do isn’t it. We take our youngsters to as many activities as possible in the hope that they find one that, although they’ll never be an Olympic champ or sporting great, that they enjoy doing.
I’ve done it all with my two, stood shivering on the touchline in the middle of winter cheering on my son, sweltered by the side of a swimming pool as my daughter went through that phase.
My old mum always said that there was a very fine line between pushing your children to take part and encouraging them.
But however much the Murrays had to push their two boys to keep up the tennis lessons, it obviously worked.