I wanted to tell you a bit more about how the tennis reference of this blog came about ….

It all started when my son, known on this blog as ‘the boy’ or ‘the awesome boy’, picked up a tennis racquet a couple of weeks after his 8th birthday.

One of those babies who never slept, and when he did sleep he let us know very loudly and vocally when he was ready to get up, he was always ready to get going.  I remember my mother saying, when he was a very young 6 week old baby, “This child wants to be a grown up.  He has no interest in being a baby”!

The boy was an early talker, mainly I think because he was so fed up with his dim parents taking their time in trying to work out what he needed, he became a cruisy toddler who ate well and grew fast. He didn’t have time to sleep though, there was too much going on and too much he wanted to do.  Kindergarten was a bit ‘meh’ for him; he was not into the whole imaginary make-believe stuff.  He was so logical and scientific about things, he wanted to know how things worked and how he could make things work.  By the time he was ready for school he was ready. He loved it and loved the routine, the logic, the rules.  He thrived on anything that had a point to it.  Maths was, and still is, very much his strength.  A desired outcome and a clear path on how to get there and he gets on with it.  If only he would remember to put his clothes in the washing basket, but that’s a whole other post.

The first time he played sport was when he was 4.  I don’t know WHAT possessed us, but for some reason we thought that it was a good idea to join a Soccer team at 4.  I look back at that and laugh now but he was keen, had great co-ordination and a family at Kindergarten was coaching an Under 6 soccer side so we decided to join.

He LOVED the practices but when the first match came along he refused to take part. He was terrified of all the people (there were about 15 mini matches going on on one field, with lots of shouty grown ups attached).  We have video footage of him in his little red kit, the shirt longer than the shorts, standing in the middle of the pitch, with the match going on around him, screaming his head off not wanting to play. What ON EARTH were we thinking????

Anyway, we’re nice people and lovely parents so we let him come off and watch the rest of the game.  For the next 3 Saturdays we would go along to the match and our boy would refuse to play.  We never made him do it but we said that he had to go along in his kit and watch his friends play and so that’s what we did.  On the 4th week, about half way through the match a child came off unwell and the coach whispered to him that we were one player short and the team needed him and would he like to play just for 5 minutes?  He agreed and went on.  After a minute or so he got the ball and dribbled it up the wing and scored!!!!!  We were going mad on the side line, jumping around and cheering – it was a magical moment!  At the end of that match he got the Player of the Day trophy and it was at that moment I believe he caught the bug – the winning bug, the competitive edge that is so obvious in him today.  He loved that trophy and he treasured it for the week he had it.  At the end of the season he won the ‘Most Improved Player’ award for the team and the deal was sealed.

As time went on and we moved suburbs and countries, he continued soccer, enjoyed it and did well, he also started playing cricket when he was 5 and loved that but when he discovered tennis everything else paled into insignificance

Just after his 8th birthday I saw an advert in the school newsletter for a school holiday tennis program.  3 mornings, 9 – 12.  I thought that it might be fun for him and give him something to do and asked if he fancied having a go.  He was keen so we booked him in.  And he just took to it like a duck to water … and so that’s why my blog is called What a Racquet … in reference to the mad life I lead as a tennis mum along with working my business, running my house, raising my children, being a good wife, and all that jazz.