Bean is playing pre-K soccer through the YMCA league in our neighborhood. Chris and I are beyond excited. The entire reason we became parents was so we could sit on a sideline somewhere someday. Seriously. Kid sports crack me up, man. And watching your own kid play sports is even more hysterical.
I mean, look at Bean Man. Check out those shin guards. They hit him about mid-thigh. And those socks? Forgetaboutit.
Tonight was the first practice, so when we got there it was a bit chaotic. Chris and Bean braved the crowds of tot-sized soccer players to find our coach. And can I just say how much I enjoyed watching Chris walk across a soccer field with Bean? Yummy.
Once we found the right field, Coach got the kids to make a circle and warm up. Have you ever seen a three-year-old do jumping jacks? They understand the flapping their arms part, but they can’t quite get their feet to jump apart. So, all 10 of them stood in a circle, jumping up and down, flapping their arms. I died.
They also stretched by touching their toes. That was pretty cute, too. You know, cause their feet are not that far away.
The coach also had them run laps around their half of the soccer field. It was pretty cute. Bean kept running while looking behind him, like he thought his teammates were chasing him.
My favorite part of practice, though, was when they’d be standing in a little team huddle and all of a sudden Bean’s head would pop up, he’d look over to me and Chris, and give up this huge cheesy grin while flashing a thumbs up. That kid, man. Cracks me up.
Gracie, on the other hand, was not impressed with sideline sitting at her big brother’s soccer practice. She sat for a while, whined about the gnats, ate some blades of grass, cried for a snack, cried because she couldn’t go onto the field, and cried because I forgot to bring her a snack. About 15 minutes into practice, Gracie stormed off, shouting, “Soccer is for the commoners. I’m out.”
I, on the other hand, couldn’t have been happier. I’ve been super excited about becoming a soccer mom. I put on my personal Facebook page this afternoon that I was ready for my stretchy mom jeans now that I was a soccer mom. My bestie out in LA sent me a message in response that was too good not to share:
“Remember back in college when you were a bright-eyed bride to be and we gushed about the uncharted territory ahead; we made a deal that day. I forget the exact wording, but it was something along the lines of, “Em, if I ever start talking about mom jeans and elastic waists, shake me; knock some sense back into me, slap me with a salmon. Throw a glass of [white] wine on me. Wave your hands back and forth in front of my face really fast and scream ‘IT’S NOT WORTH IT!!'” …so here I am, fulfilling my promise; my duties as a friend and a bridesmaid. Don’t do it, Katie. You’re too cute, too young still, so much life ahead of you. Don’t give up now. YOU GOT THIS!! (salmon slap)”
We continued our discussion via text:
Me: Hang on, let me lace up my Keds and then you can pour white wine on me.
Em: Who has time for shoelaces when you have two little kiddoes??? Velcro goes great with mom jeans.
Me: Fo’ real. I don’t even have time for a cup of coffee these days. Good thing I have an enormous travel mug to carry with me. It’s monogrammed, by the way. I’m not an animal.
Em: …with “World’s Greatest Mom,” of course.
Regardless of how my friends may tease, of how my friends may judge, or of how large my backside looks in jeans with an elastic waist. I am proud to be a soccer mom! PROUD, I SAY!
Now, pass me my pale pink visor and my “MICHAEL’S MOM” t-shirt. I have orange slices and Hi-C juice boxes to give out.