BoomerGirl Diary

I managed to see just a few of Michael Phelps' races last week, including the record-breaking 400 IM relay. As a mother, I couldn't help but be impressed by Debbie Phelps who did a remarkable job of holding her stuff together while her son made sports history.

Let me say right off the bat, my kids were never stellar at sports. Far from it. But I sat through my fair share of swim meets, wrestling matches, Parks & Rec basketball and softball games, not to mention school plays, jazz band concerts and recitals. I was hardly a stage mother (or its sports equivalent, whatever that is)...although my kids might beg to differ.

But I did get nervous. And tended to scream. A lot. Once, when my "B" swimmer daughter was chosen (by default) to swim anchor on an "A" team relay, I got so excited, the video I shot of her last 25 meters was pointed straight at the ceiling leaving us no record of her heroic victory lap (sans goggles) and the fastest time the kid ever swam. (We do have 45 seconds of me on tape screeching like banshee, however.)

By now, I'm sure you know the story. Debbie and Michael Phelps have been through a lot together. Maybe she's been conditioned over the years to endure high drama, even with the eyes of the world watching her.

Me? If I wasn't throwing up on camera, I'd have fainted dead away in the stands. I'd have been crying so hard, my mascara would have run all over the poor saps sitting in front of me. That is, IF I could resist jumping into the pool at the end of the race to hug my baby boy.

So, let's give Debbie Phelps a medal of her own. She deserves it. Not only for the love and support she's shown Michael over the years, but for showing admirable maternal restraint under impossible circumstances.