Sports Obsessions, Emergency Rooms and Single-Motherhood

As much as I love watching figure skating and cheerleading competitions (and yes, those are sports) nothing can compare to the sports obsessions of the male variety. I also know this is absolutely not unique to my home. For my dh, the sport of Supercross trumps all. I really do try hard to be a "good wife" and be supportive. I listen to his recaps of the races. I can list the top racers by name. I have dressed my daughters in tiny little racing jerseys. I have gone with him to a few races. On occasion, I even wear the jersey that was given to me by dh’s best man as a wedding present (which was cleverly wrapped in a Victoria’s Secret box). It is actually not a bad sport to be obsessed with. It’s far more exciting to watch than any game involving a ball and both the girls and I look pretty cute in our jerseys.

Here is the problem.

My dh’s obsession with Supercross does not end at watching the sport. He lives for riding dirtbikes. I have even tried to be supportive of this. I have gone out to the track, I have cheered him on when he makes a good jump, I have even learned how to jump a 4-wheeler and ride a dirtbike myself. But (and here is where the emergency rooms come in), Supercross is a dangerous sport. It involves launching a heavy, fast moving machine into the air, hoping to have a smooth landing when you hit the ground. I have been to the emergency room with my dh 3 times because of dirtbike related accidents. Two of the three times have resulted in surgery, extended hospital stays and lengthy recoveries which have undoubtedly been hard on me and the rest of the family (this is when I start thinking those “ball sports” don’t sound so boring). Some of you out there might be saying – that’s it, just say "No more motorcycles. It's what is best for the family." Dh has even said those very words to me soon after each accident (though he has since recanted the statement claiming it was the pain meds talking). I wish the problem ended there, but it doesn’t.

This month we are going to be moving from NYC to LA. In NYC we own zero cars. In LA we are going to need two modes of transportation- one for each of us. We are buying a nice mini-van for me (I love minivans!) but dh wants to get – I think you can guess-- a motorcycle. Just thinking about him riding a motorcycle to work every day makes my heart sink. All I can think about is all the horrible things that could happen to him. All doctors call the things "donor mobiles" for heaven's sake! And based on my experience, I don't find the nickname too much of an over-exaggeration. But for some reason, I just can’t stand up and say “Absolutely no more motorcycles!” It has a little bit to do with the money we would save by buying a motorcycle instead of a car and also the fact that his commute downtown would probably be cut in half which means more time at home with me and the girls but that's not really it. Honestly, here is the biggest reason I can't say no: there is this twinkle in his eye and a certain special grin that comes only when he is riding a motorcycle. These uber-dangerous, killing machines bring my dh pure joy. How can I ever take that away?

I know what it is like to be really passionate about something. I would hate to separated from my passion especially by someone I love. But I really don’t want to live every day with the fear of becoming a single-mom.

Even if dh decides himself against a motorcycle for his choice of transportation in LA, they will always be in our lives. Our children will probably ride dirtbikes. They will probably crash and have to go to the hospital themselves. How will I ever overcome the fear?