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soccer mom blues
Nick's on a soccer team this fall; I may not have mentioned this yet. It's eight six year olds running around in a scrum and trying to kick the ball in the right direction. Very exciting. Actually I think soccer is going well so far. It's all new to Nick, but he's picking up the basics well enough.
The first game was on Saturday. He was nervous. "But I don't know all the rules!" I told him he just had to remember not to pick up the ball and which goal he was shooting for and he'd be fine. Which is true; that's about all they expected the kids to remember. My stressors, alas, were not to easily soothed. See, Rich was not there. He was in New Orleans. For an event scheduled before Nick even signed up, to be sure; but I still was irritated that he wasn't there for Nick's first game, and that I was going to have to handle everything myself. I wasn't feeling well either. And I wasn't sure exactly where the game would be, and there was a lot of stuff to haul along, and Nick took forever getting dressed and I lost my temper... things got off to a bad start, let us say. And we got to the park and it was a sea of little soccer players. I parked, loaded myself up, and we started looking for his teammates. We got there twenty minutes early, as per our coach's recommendation. No lie, we spent all twenty minutes looking for the right field. We hiked all over that damn park and couldn't find them anywhere. Guess where they were? Right where we started. Apparently we were the first people to arrive. Nick went off to join his teammates in warming up and I sat down and had a little cry. I know that sounds like an overreaction, and it was, but I was just exhausted and overwhelmed. In fact I was miserable the whole game. It was horribly hot, I'd forgotten the sunscreen, I'd forgotten to bring water for myself, and I was feeling sicker by the minute.
The kids were fine. Zoe had fun pulling up grass, watching the game, and drinking from her new baby sports bottle. (I know! Such independence!) Nick was busy running after the ball or sitting with the team watching. He played fine, I know that much. No special sporting genius is in evidence as of yet; he was mostly just behind where the action was. He got a few good kicks off, though, and was content with his performance. The team won by one goal and he was mighty happy about that.
So the game ended, we loaded up the car and went home, and I collapsed. I was so sick. I think I would have been okay if it hadn't been for the game. As it was I could hardly move. Achy limbs, sore throat, runny nose, exhaustion...and a sunburn. Naturally. The kids just tanned, they obviously got their daddy's Italian complextion, but I am a pale northerner and it shows. The good news is that Rich called, and when I whined at him about how lousy I felt, he found someone to cover for him and came home early. So after dinner, I lay down on the sofa and didn't move till Rich made me go to bed.
The next day we all stayed home and felt sick. That was fun. The family that sniffles together...uses up a lot of tissues. Or something. I guess it's good we were sick over the weekend? We were all functional again by Monday. Oh, and Nick's next game is a Thursday evening. Rich will be there too, and it'll be ten degrees cooler. Expect a much happier report.