A Few Reasons Why Fall Soccer is Ruining My Life

photoI made a horrible mistake this year, you guys.  I got a call from my friend Alicia and it said, “Hey, if you are signing Maria up for soccer, we’re totally in.”  I got panicky.  I started out this year saying absolutely no to Fall soccer, but she must have caught me in a weak moment.  Somewhere between myself chugging a venti non-fat white mocha and Jamie forgetting shoes and walking into school….barefoot.

I said, “Yep, we’re signing her up.”

I couldn’t go back.  I’d already said yes and Maria had heard me.  If I’m remembering correctly (which I always do) her response was, “Oh, MOM!  Thank you!!  You’re the best mom everrrrr!!”

Which, yeah, I totally am.  I do things like rock out to Rihanna, make pancakes for dinner and write on a badass blog, mostly hilarious and awesome things.  So I guess you could say I’m the best mom everrrrrrr.

But then I remembered that I loathe Fall Soccer.  It’s freaking cold.  It’s cold and it’s early and we’re always just barely late (like 5 minutes) and it always looks really bad because I always walk to the field with Starbucks, and I’m sure they’re thinking, “Oh my gosh, she is late because she got STARBUCKS?!”  but that’s not true because most of the time the coffee isn’t exactly fresh.  It’s usually a solid 1-2 hours old.  But that’s not the point.  The point is that I hate soccer more than I hate the smell of salmon, and that’s a whole freaking lot.

But today I have a new reason to hate soccer.

Here you go:

It’s 8:45am.  Jamie and Danny just leave to go to the field and I’m finishing loading up the girls.  We drive to Starbucks (I didn’t say that the coffee is NEVER fresh.  It’s just usually not).

We arrive at the field.  It’s wet and windy and raining.  Charlotte decides that she wants to push Olive’s stroller so she throws a fit.  I’m carrying my coffee, a fold up chair, Charlotte’s backpack and her deedee.  Oh, and Charlotte decides to lose it in the parking lot and lay down and scream.  Awesome.

She calms down, and we sit up on a little hill, next to the Boys and Girls Club building, watching the games below.  I am talking to my friend Jerod and all of a sudden, I hear Danny yell, “RUTH!!”  which I found odd and confusing because that guy was supposed to be coaching Jamie’s game.  Oh, he was.  Well, not at that moment, because he couldn’t.  Because Charlotte had walked very slowly across the field.  Sucking her thumb and dragging deedee behind her.  The ref had to blow his whistle and stop the game.  Dan shot me a look that I’ve very rarely seen.  I mean, he did not like being humiliated in front of all those 6 year olds.

Whatever, we got through that initial snafu and headed to Maria’s game.  It was just Maria and me.  The wind was blowing harder and it was so cold, you guys.  To make matters worse, my friend Alicia was in Seattle, so I didn’t even have anyone fun to talk to.  Naturally, I head to the goal where Maria is trying her very hardest.  I try to tell her that it’s too cold and we would have a lot more fun taking a Taco Time-out but she just shot me a look that was very similar to the one Danny gave me earlier.  Daggers.

Let me just say that Maria’s coaches are not exactly the best coaches.  I mean, they’re easy going, fun and cute, but I’m pretty sure that coaching a kids’ soccer team is required for their kinesiology degree.  Read: Maria had NO CLUE how to play goalie.  Especially what to do with the ball once either a goal was made or she blocked it with her hands.  So she was a little nervous, obviously.

But don’t you all worry.  Nope, the referee made sure she knew what to do.  HOLY COW, you guys, this guy needs a new hobby because I think he’s getting a little cranky as a third grade Saturday soccer ref.

“Let’s go, get the ball in play.  We don’t have all day.  We have things to do….You need to throw it like this.  On this line!!!……” so on and so forth.

But you know me.  When I hear something I don’t agree with, especially towards my kittens, I’m just really easy-going about it.  (lies)

“You don’t have to be rude.  Be nice to her.”

He just looked at me.  Standard.  People just look at me allllll the time.

So of course the rest of the game, this ref just drove me nuts.  He could do nothing right as far as I was concerned.  His shorts were a little too short.  He blew the whistle too long.  I’m pretty sure he might have even tripped Maria on her way out of the goal.

I’m kidding.  He totally didn’t trip Maria.  But let’s just say that after his smart ass comments to Maria, I was sick of him.

And Fall Soccer.

But it can never just stop there.  Oh, no.  There ALWAYS has to be that one parent on the team who is way too intense.  Who yells at all the kids, but not in a fun and encouraging way.  They are in it to win it and it wouldn’t surprise me if they make their kids run laps around the house before games and if they practice 5 hours worth of soccer drills a week. Yep, we’ve got one of those.  I thought that if she told Maria to pass it “….to the side!!! DON’T pass it to the middle!!!…..” one more time I would lose it.  I needed a Taco Time-out.

And then the whistle blew.  “That’s Game!”

If there is one sound I love, it’s the sound of the final whistle during a children’s soccer game.  And at that tiny moment, Fall Soccer doesn’t really seem so bad.

(don’t be fooled.  it is.)


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