{READ WITH LOTS OF SARCASM}
Hey Colleen! So you asked if I could get together next week. Well, here’s the thing…
Next week we start this thing called ‘soccer’.
I don’t know if you’ve heard of it before or not, but it {extracurricular activities} scares the crap out of me.
You see, I’m gonna have to be somewhere by 6:30pm three nights a week.
Oh, and not just somewhere. But on a field. Which means not in whatever crap I can pull over my head when I’ve reached the end of the day and would rather just be having a beer as I cook dinner in my pajamas.
And oh yes, let’s not forget that it’s not just me that has a dress code but really it is my son.
Those soccer organizers must have kids who just adore getting into new clothes.
My son informs me every. single. morning. that he is more than happy to go to school in just his underwear.
Which if you think about, I probably created that monster, since getting dressed in our house has always been optional. {I always did think a 1 year year old looked super cute slumming around in a diaper so I never got very good at enforcing dress codes.} So yes, the whole getting dressed thing is probably my fault.
But isn’t it enough of a feat that I get my son dressed and to school on time five days a week and then again on Sunday to church? Now, I’ve got to add evenings into the fray as well.
Oh crap, I just realize as I type this mess that he is suppose to be wearing cleats and I think some type of padding gear. And oh yeah, some type of soccer socks???? Guess I know what I’m going to be doing this weekend then. Seriously, how am I suppose to be figuring this stuff out?
So unfortunately, three of my week nights are being taken up by this thing called soccer.
This may be news to some people but I’m actually really done by 6:30pm at night.
Done being a mama.
Done putting a meal in front of my family.
Done doing anything besides telling my children they should just get along and please, isn’t it bedtime soon?
But I guess that doesn’t work anymore.
Oh, I also informed my husband that now we have to give up occasional Friday nights for this thing called soccer. Guess what my husband told me??? “Well, we don’t have much going on anymore on Friday nights, do we?”
Seriously, this from the man who at 25 threw quite an amazing after bar party. But no, apparently turning the ripe old age of 40 has made him ready to throw in the towel and succumb to this suburban thing called soccer.
And all because he thinks that maybe it will help our child get a college scholarship.
REALLY?
Has he seen our son play sports?
His last attempt {at age 3} ended before the first practice even got started.
Within meeting the coach and learning he would have to follow someone’s directions, he promptly informed us “I’m not playing. I’m going to go inspect the grass and find some bugs”.
I wish I were kidding.
For some reason I didn’t believe him so I took him back to a second football practice and once again, it was my child in the grass discovering the long begotten beetle of kingdom come.
Even last year when I tried encouraging him to give baseball a go, he himself said, “Come on mom, have you seen me try to hit a ball”. “Yeah, right”, was my response.
Wouldn’t it be better for all parties involved, if we were just a bit more up front with our children’s potential.
I mean, it would be amazing if on Monday night we discover this amazing God given gift of unknown, unparalleled soccer talent.
He has shown some improvement in the last few weeks while playing at home. Which was after we told him we were forcing him to play soccer. I blame my husband. I was more than happy to put off this whole extracurricular activity thing for a LOOOOT more years.
{But in defense of my husband forcing him to play soccer, the conversation went like this…
Son: Can I play soccer?
Mom: Sure, as long as you do your homework prior to practice.
Son: Uhm, well actually, no, I don’t think I need to do soccer or homework for that matter.
Dad: You ARE playing soccer and you ARE doing your homework.}
But really, my son’s God given talent is a love of animals, legos, and taking things apart and putting them back together.
The next Einstein, next Edison, next discoverer of an extinct animal…that is my son. Not the next David Beckham.
{And yes, I do think my son is a genius. You would use that coping mechanism too if your son spoke in animal language every time he met someone new!}
But maybe I will be proven wrong. And my efforts to still be a mama post 6:30pm will be worth it.
Maybe one day he will get a soccer scholarship. But really, I will be proud of my son if he just listens to the coach and stays on the field Monday night. I don’t care if he runs in the wrong direction and I certainly don’t care if he touches that soccer ball with his hands.
So for the next 8 weeks my Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings are taken up with soccer.
Feel free to join me out at the fields and cheer me on when we arrive fully clothed! I’m gonna be feeling proud.
