It happened. I promised myself it would never happen, but it did. Against every fiber of my being, it happened. Today, I officially became a Soccer Mom. My son has been playing soccer for 3 years now, and we’ve had lots of fun watching him, and learning about soccer. My daughter is finally old enough to play, so we signed her up this fall, also.
Really, what’s better than watching a pack of little kids chase a ball around a soccer field, try to kick it but swing and miss and end up on their tooshy? What’s better than watching little boys pick dandelions while the ball sails past them for a goal? What’s better than spending an hour every Thursday evening at the park while they practice - in the heat, rain, and yes even snow? What’s better than sitting at the park every Saturday morning watching little kids have a blast playing soccer - in the heat, rain, and snow? Does anything compare to the looks on their faces as they run through the “parent tunnel” at the end of the game, not caring whether they won or lost, but caring only that they got to run through an actual TUNNEL?
Today is their first practice of the season. I thought I was being smart signing them both up for the same practice day and time. Easy to float back and forth between their practices since they’re at the same park. AND, it’s only one hour one evening that we waste - um I mean spend - at the park playing soccer. Man I AM smart I told myself!
Then I got the Call To Action from the YMCA and the stupid gene kicked in. I became the coach of my daughter’s team. Last week I found myself typing those words that will haunt me for the next 10 weeks “Sure, I can coach my daughter’s team if you don’t have anyone else.” How EVER did this happen? I’ve never coached soccer before! Heck, I’ve never even PLAYED soccer before!
But, I found myself at the coach’s meeting last Saturday - thankfully the guys from the Y are VERY helpful! I actually feel like I know what I’m doing
I’m sure that feeling will go away around 5:15 this evening when I actually have to gather 9 little girls, which I can only imagine is much like herding cats, and teach them about the game of soccer.
All this while my little dude practices with his team on a field far, far away. Not really, luckily it’s the field right next to ours, but I’m still kind of bummed that I won’t get to watch him practice. And I’m hoping that their games aren’t at the same time too often - at least not when Dan is gone flying.
So, wish me luck as I venture in to the world of pigtails, ponytails, and pink cleats!