It’s that time again, soccer season. For many children and parents, it’s time to buy new cleats, find your knee pads and get ready to devote your Saturdays, as well as one to two evenings during the week, to soccer.
It is a bright and sunny Saturday morning. We have a game at 9:00 and another at 11:30. The clock barely reads 8:30 when we pull into the soccer complex. I stayed up later than I should have last night watching some movie that I have seen a million times playing on TBS and can’t stop the continuous yawning.
We have already scrambled this morning to get everyone fed and ready to go. I panicked for 20 minutes as I searched frantically for one of my son’s lime green regulation game socks. This is not the only morning that I wonder what force always seems to make one sock of the set disappear in the wash. I finally find the required piece of clothing peeking out from under our toddler’s bed, home to five Matchbox cars. We load up our gear for the next four hours and are on our way.
Once parked, we unload the wagon, the cooler with food and drinks, the folding chairs, the kids and the remaining necessities. As we begin our walk to the farthest field from the parking lot, I find myself wondering why they always seem to put the younger kids on the fields farthest from the bathrooms. Bathrooms! Thankfully, I remembered the bathrooms before we started our walk to the field because the children that didn’t have to go 15 minutes ago when we left the house, now really need to go. Once the bathroom stop has been made, we continue the walk down the gravel path to the grassy field.
As I attempt to pull the wagon and carry numerous bags, my coffee in the travel mug splashes the hot liquid onto my dry knuckles. A voice like Marge Simpson growls in my throat. Also, in my haste to leave the house this morning, I have forgotten to wear shoes with socks and tiny pieces of gravel are getting wedged between the bottom of my feet and my flip flops. We are now bordering on being late so I will have to wait to shake out my shoes and imagine the circular indentations that are forming on my delicate skin.
As I try to ignore the discomfort from my burned hand and gravelly feet, I can’t help but notice that everyone looks the same on soccer day. The kids cannot contain their energy as they run ahead, kicking their balls down to the field. The parents all have the same tired, blank look on their faces as they drag chairs, coolers, sunshades and the siblings of the players to their designated spots.
Just in time, we set up our chairs; I brush the pebbles from my feet, and try to calmly drink my remaining lukewarm coffee. Then the team mom approaches me with the dreaded question, “Do you have the snack?” Are you kidding me? We are on team snack today? It’s a good thing that I had that moment of rest because now I will have rush back to the car, drive to store, buy the snack, run down to the field and miss most of the game.
Ah, soccer season. It is great exercise and team building fundamentals for children. But as it turns out, exercise for the parents as well.