Fickle kids can break your hearts Clare Heaney From: Herald Sun September 15, 2009 9:53PM I RECKON over the past decade or so I've made plenty of sacrifices in the name of motherhood.
Think sleepless nights, stinky bottoms, goo-stained clothes, career and social life bypasses . . . I could go on, but you get the picture.
And while I have continued to complain bitterly about these incursions on my health, mental state and general wellbeing, I usually like to focus on the bigger picture.
One of these three kids is going to look after me when I'm old.
But, this week, after much soul-searching, I made the supreme sacrifice.
I bought my son a Geelong football jumper.
I'm sure I spent less time choosing names for my kids and picking their school than I have over the past few days considering whether I should "let" Patrick barrack for the Cats, much less actively encourage it.
You see, our home is a Richmond household, continuing a family tradition. I took it for granted that my kids would follow the Tiges.
My late Mum was Jack Captain Blood Dyer's cousin. Growing up, we often looked at Mum's blue photo album, with its pictures of Dyer serving ice creams at his Tigers Milk Bar in Richmond, his wedding photo from St Ignatius and a shot of him shaping up in a boxing pose.
Among the pages was a dog-eared program for his testimonial, which my Mum attended.
From time to time, Dad would come home with The Truth, so Mum could read Jack's famous column, Dyer'ere. Or that's what he said.
At one time, I was part of a small team that published a fan magazine about Richmond called Roar. Pregnant and with babies in pouches, we sold the magazine outside the 'G.
It was non-profit (to us), but we made a sizeable donation to the Punt Rd renovation.
So, when my middle child finally spat the dummy and said he hated the Tigers because they were duds, I felt really sad.
"But they've got the best theme song," I offered. "They never win, so we never hear it," he countered.
Last year, he trudged off unhappily to the school Footy Day in a Tigers jumper. After the drubbing against the Swans in Round 19, when we actually broke tradition and left at three-quarter time, he insisted he barracked for the Cats, like his Dad.
In another sign, last week he refused to wear his Tigers raincoat.
It was at this point that I concluded forcing your child to barrack for your team, no matter what, isn't a good idea.
I felt like a traitor as I handed over the $60 for the Cats jumper - the cheapest I could find.
"You can get a number on the back of that, it's just $20," the shop assistant suggested.
"Are you kidding?" I said. Cameron Mooney may be his favourite player but I wasn't going to pay a cent more.
He clearly wasn't picking up the note of sadness attached to the reluctant purchase.
And, yes, the size 12 is a tad big. But I figured if I was going to be forced to buy this jumper, Patrick was going to wear it today and the next four Footy Days of his primary school years.
Me? Well, my only consolation is that he doesn't want to barrack for the Pies.
http://www.heraldsun.com.au/opinion/fickle-kids-can-break-your-hearts/story-e6frfhqf-1225774141573
