Connor is playing soccer for the first time this year. His practices started the week we got back from vacation. He missed the first practice and the second one was right after we got back. Ian took him...and came home to me and the other two kids asleep because #jetlag. The first practice I went to, I almost died. Not really, but it was so freaking hot. And we had to sit out in the full sun. Poor Connor's face was bright red and he kept asking when practice would be over. I thought for sure this wouldn't be the sport for us (well, really Connor), but then the first game came. Connor had so much fun and was so proud of himself because he made a pass to another player that made a goal.
Now the first game was an eye opener for me. I thought we were going to a child's soccer game. I didn't realize we were actually going to a game in which all the parents yell at their kids on the field as if their life depended on it. No joke, I was traumatized. I told Ian I wasn't cut out for this and that maybe we should try track and field. Haha! But seriously, soccer parents are INTENSE. Two games in, I still think the parents are absolutely nuts, but I'm handling it.
Two games in and Connor really seems to be enjoying himself. The weather has cooled off...which for us means it went from 100* to 90*, but that seriously makes a difference. Ian and I started switching back and forth who goes to practice with Connor, while the other person stays home with the other kids, feeding them and getting them ready for bed. It makes rolling up at home at bedtime so much easier when two kids are already dealt with.
I feel like I should make a caveat that I wasn't raised in a sports family, so the intensity of it all baffles and amazes me. But I'm getting there. Maybe someday I will be the crazy lady yelling at the field...though I doubt it, because it scares the crap out of the introvert in me.
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