Football

I suppose it’s inevitable that with World Cup fever sweeping the country (a little more muted now England is out) my thoughts should turn to football.

When I gave birth to my second boy, I dreaded the fact that my life would probably become dominated by the sport. Giving in to demands for the latest prohibitive kit, standing in the rain by a soggy pitch cheering them on, fighting to watch my own programmes on TV if football is on. With one boy I might have got away with it, but surely not with two?

Maybe I should be careful what I wish for, but it seems I did get away with it.

T has never really got into football at all. He’ll join in a kick-around sometimes, but has always been much more keen on Lego or role-play games. He’s inherited my own cack-handedness when it comes to ball games!

His younger brother seemed completely different. Almost as soon as he was walking without falling over, Pudding loved football. His left kick was super-strong and shockingly accurate. This was going to be his strength I guessed. I knew he was behind on language and other things but on the football field he would shine. Once he got over his habit of picking up the ball and running away that is. (We did think for a while that he was more suited to rugby!)

But the months went by and we were punched in the guts by his diagnosis of MPS, and that prospect became less likely. His mainstream peers got faster and more agile. They learnt the rules and were sometimes less tolerant of Pudding’s tendency to interrupt the flow of the game.

He will never know the camaraderie of working together on the pitch or supporting his favourite team. Some Manchester City players visited hospital when we there and Pudding was happy to show off his football skills and say hello. But he had no concept that other boys his age would have been over the moon to meet some real live football players. He has completely ignored any games shown on the TV – apart from Footie Pups on CBeebies!

So it looks like I’ll never be a football mum.

I can’t really mourn something that I never wanted in the first place. But what I will continue to mourn is the condition that has taken this away from him.

Of course, he doesn’t know any different. He still loves kicking a ball around and grins widely if he scores a ‘goal’. His favourite treat in the world would be a big field, a ball and lots of people he loves there to play with him.

Pudding in the garden chasing a ball with a big grin on his face.His joy in football is infectious. And I’m happy to meet him there on his own terms.

Micklegate Madness

Despite appearances to the contrary (after all I love acting, and share a fair amount of my life on here) I’m not actually very keen on standing out. I’m more of a keep-quiet, blend-into-the-background, kinda gal.

Pudding however, has a habit of turning things upside-down. And I’m not just talking about the kitchen bin here. He challenges me to change my life too. Four months after his diagnosis I shaved off all my hair to raise money for the MPS Society. The response was brilliant and the final total was over £3000.

Three years on and I’ve seen many people taking the effort to do fantastic fundraisers. I’ve toyed with various ideas and I’ve felt bad that I’ve not got round to making any a reality. Part of it, I know, is down to struggling with my own demons. That’s about to change but it’s not down to me.

pudletA couple of months ago I got a message with a proposal (no, not that sort!). I’ve written before about how much the support of friends means to me, and one lady has featured in a previous blog when Pudding was invited to her daughter’s party. Her message suggested the frankly quite stupid idea of driving an engine-less soapbox cart down a steep hill and wanted to know if I’d like to be part of the team and raise money for MPS. Once I had established that I wasn’t expected to step foot in said cart and just had to help push, I of course had to reply a resounding ‘Yes!’

Don’t worry – the cart has brakes and is part of an organised event, so I’m fairly confident that my friend will still have all her limbs by the end of the day. The Micklegate Soapbox Run has been held on August bank holiday the last two years and is already a brilliant local fixture. Some other lovely ladies have been persuaded/bullied into joining our team, the cart is looking great and Danny’s Daring Damsels will soon be flying down that hill.

But now of course, I have to do the bit that I find difficult – to ask whether anyone fancies sponsoring us! The link is on justgiving, so it’s dead easy and I will love you forever. So will Pudding. Though to be fair, he loves everyone anyway…

Don’t forget, if you’re in York on the day you can come and cheer us on!

(And before anyone else says it: I know ‘dame’ would probably describe me more accurately than damsel, but it didn’t sound as good, so there!)