Bring on the Pain...

Now that Spring is almost upon us, it is time for soccer. Now I have never played soccer but knew that one day my son would play. My husband was not thrilled at the thought. "Soccer players are jerks!" he would say. And while I have to admit most of the soccer players I knew were, I wasn't going to let that deter me. "We'll let him decide" (winkwink) I said. Luckily when the time came he chose soccer over Tball! Flash forward to what is now our 3rd season (we started 1 year ago). I have now become the quintessential soccer mom complete with my own travel chair and matching bag filled with snacks and water bottles. I chat with the other moms and quietly observe their soccer "momness" so that I may better settle into the my role. I shift around my schedule, replacing my favorite workout class with soccer skill sessions, moving work around team practices, and reinventing my Sat mornings to work around the games. I get really "revved up" about this, almost as much as my son. Which brings me to my point. Today was our first skills practice. Skills is just what it sounds like: Two teams get together with the 'paid' soccer instructor to learn techniques that can be applied during team practice. No problem. We arrived at the field. Water. check. Bag filled with snacks. check. Travel chair. check. We are ready to go. Five minutes later- my son is practicing kicks with the others and gets a ball right to the eye. Here comes the tears. Now I should mention that when my son gets hurt, it's almost like the horns that call the volunteer firemen. It's quite intense. But after a few minutes of tears, a couple of I wanna go home's, he's back in there. At this point the sun goes away and the wind that wasn't noticeable before is now bitterly cold. Now I sit there with my snacks and freeze, while the"team mom" zips up her adorable (belted) winter coat, complete with gloves, and sips on something I could only imagine is hot cocoa. It's no problem, I'm into this and next week I'll be better prepared. I smile and think this until five minutes before we leave when I look out and watch my son get kicked in the hand. Jeez! We were almost out of there. While we walk to our car, with tears flowing and sirens ablazing, I think I am a Soccer Mom, we can do this. Bring it on...