My husband and I bowl in a once monthly couples league. Mostly it’s a lot of fun, and mostly, but for the random 217, we suck at bowling. It’s a nice way to have a regularly scheduled date on the books with my brother and sister-in-law, so we go and have a fun time together. Yesterday? Not so much.
It’s weird how things hit you. From a very unexpected source comes a very unexpected thought, and you find yourself unable to cope in the moment. So yeah, I cried at bowling. But not only because I missed all those damn spares! I cried because it became apparent to me that bowling is something my son is never not going to find maddening. We have bowled as a family several times over the years for something fun to do. Knowing what we know now, it makes perfect sense why bowling has been so extremely frustrating for my big kid. Who hates bowling? He does. Of course he does. When your shoulders and your arms and your fingers don’t work the way they are supposed to, the way everyone else’s do? Yeah, I imagine that would be frustrating. And it hit me there in the stupid bowling alley that that frustration is going to be the way it is for him the rest of his life.