Just Another Soccer Mom Saturday Morning
My husband was away this morning, so it was up to me to take my 7-year old to his 9:00 a.m. soccer game. Not only that, but it happened to be our day to bring snacks. My husband explained to me that it was imperative that I cut up apples and oranges for halftime and then bring Oreos and Capri Suns for the end of the game.
Before we left the house then (at 8:38, only slightly behind schedule), I washed and sliced apples, peeled oranges and broke them into sections. I also fed the little kids breakfast (the 12-year olds are on their own) and put a chicken into the crockpot.
We arrived at the damp field and my son didn't see his team. We limped along, me holding the snacks and an umbrella, my boys carrying an adult chair and a kid-sized chair and my daughter carrying her Winnie-the-Pooh unbrella. At long last, he exclaimed, "Oh, there's my team!"
I found myself in agony watching this game between two teams of seven-year old boys. My son is the goalie and each time the other kids came barreling toward him, I wanted to close my eyes. A few weeks ago, he was kicked in the eye (thank God for cheekbones). Last week, he was kicked in an even more tender area. This week, no kicks, but alas, several goals were scored.
Then he slid hard on his backside and thigh, hard enough to make him cry. He came out of the game and his team carried on without him, which meant the other goalie let several more balls get past and the offense couldn't seem to coordinate their efforts and score a goal. When he went back in the game, the ball smacked into him and he fell onto his knees more than once. All of this hurts even more when your tender skin is cold.
My daughter mostly sat and ate apple slices and then Oreos while the 12-year old boys took turns sitting in my chair. After a soggy hour, the game ended. My boy was disappointed that his team lost, but a good sport nonetheless.
We went to Goodwill, then, to find costumes for Halloween. My 12-year old twins are going to an event at the YMCA. One is going to be a cartoon character from some Japanese anime' show and the other is going to be an Army guy. The army camoflauge was easy to find and we managed to pick up a few other things as well.
Then onto the bank and then to McDonald's for lunch. We went through the drive-through and ate our lunch on the way home.
When we arrived home, I parked the car in the driveway and let out a sudden, shocking, rare, window-rattling, open-mouthed belch which spanned a seeming eternity. We sat in stunned silence for a moment. I didn't even say "excuse me." From the passenger seat, my blue-eyed 12-year old said dramatically, "It's a sign of the apocalypse!"
And that comment, my friends, is the reason I had kids.
Before we left the house then (at 8:38, only slightly behind schedule), I washed and sliced apples, peeled oranges and broke them into sections. I also fed the little kids breakfast (the 12-year olds are on their own) and put a chicken into the crockpot.
We arrived at the damp field and my son didn't see his team. We limped along, me holding the snacks and an umbrella, my boys carrying an adult chair and a kid-sized chair and my daughter carrying her Winnie-the-Pooh unbrella. At long last, he exclaimed, "Oh, there's my team!"
I found myself in agony watching this game between two teams of seven-year old boys. My son is the goalie and each time the other kids came barreling toward him, I wanted to close my eyes. A few weeks ago, he was kicked in the eye (thank God for cheekbones). Last week, he was kicked in an even more tender area. This week, no kicks, but alas, several goals were scored.
Then he slid hard on his backside and thigh, hard enough to make him cry. He came out of the game and his team carried on without him, which meant the other goalie let several more balls get past and the offense couldn't seem to coordinate their efforts and score a goal. When he went back in the game, the ball smacked into him and he fell onto his knees more than once. All of this hurts even more when your tender skin is cold.
My daughter mostly sat and ate apple slices and then Oreos while the 12-year old boys took turns sitting in my chair. After a soggy hour, the game ended. My boy was disappointed that his team lost, but a good sport nonetheless.
We went to Goodwill, then, to find costumes for Halloween. My 12-year old twins are going to an event at the YMCA. One is going to be a cartoon character from some Japanese anime' show and the other is going to be an Army guy. The army camoflauge was easy to find and we managed to pick up a few other things as well.
Then onto the bank and then to McDonald's for lunch. We went through the drive-through and ate our lunch on the way home.
When we arrived home, I parked the car in the driveway and let out a sudden, shocking, rare, window-rattling, open-mouthed belch which spanned a seeming eternity. We sat in stunned silence for a moment. I didn't even say "excuse me." From the passenger seat, my blue-eyed 12-year old said dramatically, "It's a sign of the apocalypse!"
And that comment, my friends, is the reason I had kids.
posted by Melodee at Saturday, October 29, 2005
8 Comments:
LOL! I was reading along la dee dah and when I got to the part about the apocalypse, I about died laughing!
He's seven and he only plays goal? Is that what you are saying? It's a little early to specialize is it not?
Rare? Musta felt pretty good. :)
I learned from a friend a long time ago that the hardest position to play in soccer is the goalie's mother.
heh heh... I've been known to let a burp of that magnitude rip once in awhile.
Makes it awfully hard to reprimand my kids when THEY do it. The never foget anything, especially when it involves Mom being gross.
Mother of a former high school soccer goalie here.
Soccer really made me appreciate basketball, played in a warm dry gym!
And, we had kids for the very same reason!
LOL @ your son. Clever kid.
I'm married to a former goalie. He is retired. When we were dating, he broke his leg while playing goalie, a spiral fracture. Numerous other injuries...I guess I am not really trying to make you feel better, just less alone as the loved one of a goalie.
Its so hard to let the kids grow up!
And that statement from your son is hilarious! Life will never be dull with him around!
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