This year, my 6 year old son decided he wanted to play basketball on a team. He is no doubt the sportiest among us. We signed him up willingly, but secretly dreaded getting up and out for games on a Saturday at 9AM. We haven’t been a part of the whole group sports subculture until now and we weren’t sure it was for us. But turns out, the whole experience has been so much fun. Sure, it’s been tricky for me physically- trying not to get knocked over when the doors open to the gym and people come rushing in and out, or trying to hobble my way quickly enough across the court to get a seat before balls go flying – but those discomforts have been in the service of something so comforting. As silly as it may sound, going to and from basketball practices and games every week has been quite normalizing for me. As in, it’s given me an opportunity to feel like everybody else. It’s what so many moms and dads do. I get to feel typical, regular, just like them. All of the feelings that HIBM has taken from me over the years.