OK, I have a confession to make. I loathe going to my kids' sports games. That was "loathe" people, not "love". Don't get me wrong, it's not the actual watching of my children playing the various sports, it's the fact that I don't get to actually watch any of it! I am always being distracted by the various siblings who are either bored, hungry, hurt, have to go to the bathroom, angry, tired....etc, etc.
This all started with my firstborn. I was so excited to finally be a "soccer mom" and watch my little guy play on his first sports team. I had no idea that there would be no sitting on bleachers cheering for my shining star, no cute cardigans tied around my shoulders. No, there would be pushing a double stroller with infant twins who had absolutely no interest in allowing Mommy even a moment to be a doting spectator. This would be followed by attempting to nurse said twins, and never actually being able to sit anywhere. Walking them around the soccer field over and over. The upside was that when Jason played goalie as I was making my laps by the goal I could tell Jason right to his face how proud I was of him. I can't even tell you how many of his goals or saves that I missed. I'd hear other people cheering for him and looking up from the puddle of baby vomit that I was trying to remove from my hair, I'd pretend that I saw it and give my guy the thumbs up.
Years went by and the twins grew up. They were finally at an age where if I could manage to shove enough food down their throats they were too busy to cause too much trouble. That's when I had Luke. Luke was actually a pretty easy-going baby so for a short while there it was enjoyable. I had a small glimpse of what it was like to be one of those happy parents who couldn't wait to cheer on their kids. Small glimpse. It was short-lived as the twins soon acquired the superpower of hearing a snack being opened from a mile away and I'd have to keep my voracious kids from eating everyone else's food. They were like a food-grubbing tag-team. This was about the time that Luke started walking. (One day, ask me to show you a picture of Luke around the age of 1. He looks like Rocky Balboa. I'm not exaggerating. The kid would fall head first about every 5 minutes. Usually on concrete. ) I spent a lot of time walking away from games with my screaming toddler so that I could get some ice from the snack stand. I think they had a First-Aid kit labeled "Van Goor" that year.
Without a break, sweet Charlotte entered the cheering team that was my fabulous little brood. She hated sports in the womb. Maybe it was all the yelling she heard while still in there as I was trying to keep my kids from ruining America's favorite past-time. At this point I'd already earned the reputation of the mom who had so many kids she was shell-shocked. You know like that that little old lady in the shoe? We only lived in town a few months and people would see my troop heading there way and clear a path. I felt like Forrest Gump on the school bus...."Seat's taken." Yeah, don't worry, I won't actually be sitting, I just need a place to put my diaper bag, first aid kit, cooler, toy box and coffee maker. OK, I'm ready to cheer now. I think at this point Jason would have preferred that I didn't bother coming at all. It had to be embarrassing when the soccer ball hit him in the face because he got distracted by the screams of his fighting siblings.
Well, like all things, the torch gets passed on. The time came for Maddie and Gwen to have their first soccer game. Bill was at another field with Jason and I was at Maddie and Gwen's game with Luke and Charlotte. Already an old-hat at this, I came fully prepared. Gone were the days of the stroller and here were the days where I could bring a bag of sand toys a few snacks and hand sanitizing wipes and sort of pay attention. Of course, the day before that first game we had torrential rain. Luke and Charlotte managed to fall completely into said mud-puddle. Great, it was cold and the one thing that I didn't have with me was a change of clothes. The game had just started and even though the field was a good 20 minutes away from home (in the same town as I live mind you), I figured I could run home, get them changed and run back to make it. I didn't know anyone yet as it was the first game, and being that I now had 5 kids, I felt very little guilt leaving my twins and running out. Little did I know that the game ended early because of the condition of the field and I came back to find my little girls sitting alone on an empty field. (Wouldn't you like to see the email that I sent their coach?) It'd be more normal if my girls were crying and scared, but after so many years of Mommy just doing the best she can, they were fine and all smiles, just wondering where I was. No, I did not get Mother of the Year that year either. Then there was the time that my girls had a softball game and Luke had to use the porta-john. Just love those smelly-cess pools. This was before had his operation. Let's just say that I can tell you just how pee tastes.....no I'm not kidding. Look thinks it tastes like stale pretzels.
Tonight was Luke's first soccer game of the season. For some stupid reason, (probably the same reason that we continue to have more than one child.....we forget! Otherwise human-kind would be extinct already) I thought that with the twins being 9 years-old and Charlotte being 4 this was going to be my year. I was going to show up at a game without looking like I just rushed home from school, got 3 kids to finish their homework, worked out Jason's transportation from his soccer practice, made dinner, fed it to my kids, got Luke changed into his uniform which consists of a shirt that goes down to his ankles and socks that are too big hand me downs and slouch like elephant legs, and actually look like a human being. This consisted of pulling my hair into a neater pony tail and trading my yoga tank for a long-sleeved yoga shirt. (Hey, I have to start out small.) After illegally parking so that we didn't have to walk a mile to the field, I lugged our chairs up to the field and a few water bottles for the kids. (We've scaled down quite a bit!) This is where Charlotte and Gwen decided to become the worst tag-team in history....the hysterically bored and starving divas. No matter that they just ate a huge dinner and were surrounded by hundreds of potential playmates. They were going to stand in front of me blocking my view of Luke dribbling that soccer ball towards the goal. I had one of those, "I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore!" moments. I told them to get out of my way or I was going punish them in a way that.....well, actually I had no idea how, but I wasn't going to let them know that....would make them very upset. Strong words, I know. I think they could sense the danger they were in. My kids know when Mommy has snapped. It's happened on a number of occasions. I'm not sure if it's instinct or if I turn green and muscles explode out of my clothing, but they know. They decided that they were going to take a sisterly stroll around the field. So there I was tonight, sitting on my portable chair, cheering for my Lukey and because things come full circle, my kids were walking themselves around the soccer field. Maybe it was comforting for them from so many trips in strollers that each one of them made as I pushed them trying to avoid the goose poop. You know a bit of nostalgia.
All I know is that I am still far away from saying that I love going to my kids' sports events, but if things truly come full circle I can look forward to sitting at my grand children's games and although I probably still won't be watching the grandchild on the field, it will be because I'm too busy laughing at my children pushing their children around that soccer field wondering why in the world they are there. Because it's fun kids. :)
