Post Soccer/Editing Hangover

Opening day for soccer– you all remember that?

Oi!  Me too!

This year I didn’t get to see Zoomboy play, because all of his games were concurrent with Squish’s.  I Did get to see Squish play, however, and that was a revelation.

See, one of my children’s great qualities on any sports field is their incredible sense of unawareness of what anyone else is doing there.  We call it the butterfly-chaser’s syndrome, and my kids?  From Big T to Chicken to Zoomboy– well, they have it in spades.

Of course, Chicken overcame her butterfly syndrome eventually–but I figure she was about ten before that happened.  Big T did eventually get his black belt, and that was hard.  Zoomboy could happily chase butterflies and pick daisies for the rest of his soccer career.  He doesn’t just have his own drum, he’s got his own zydeco band in his head.

But Squish.  Well…

I noticed an interesting thing when Squish was playing.

Point of fact one:  When she was told to play position, she did!  This doesn’t sound like a big deal, but her coach put her in as a defender, and she stayed there, as a defender, when all of the other defenders ran into the big bunch of kids who were hovering around the ball.  Now, I could have told you this would happen, since I saw Squish standing on stage and stamping her foot to make the girl next to her move into position, but judging from what the other six year olds did, this was sort of a triumph, and it surprised me.  Of course *I* think my children are superlative, but usually they’re not superlative at anything that anyone else gan gauge some sort of superiority in relation to other like beings.  But there she was, in position, when the other kids weren’t.  It was sort of a revelation.

Point of fact two:  She was playing goalie for a quarter.  She actually tracked the ball.  This, again, is an anomaly.  Mate’s mantra last year was “Zoomboy, where’s the ball?”  We were asking Chicken that until she was twelve, because Chicken had a tendency to stand at defender and assume the ball had nothing to do with her until it zoomed over her foot.  But not Squish.  She stood, legs bent, squinchy little face all concentrated, and made sure she knew where that ball was so it didn’t zoom through her hands.

0.0  I am in awe.  Four kids.  It took four kids before Mate’s athletic ability and self-awareness bred true as an innate quality and not something that we had to beat gently into our kids’ skulls with a rubber bat. (Okay, in T?  Judging by our one aborted trip driving, this self-awareness in space has not bred into him at all!)

But there she was, our sturdy little soccer player, ready to go.

Damn.  Fourth time is the charm!

Anyway, we forgot sunblock.  By the time opening day wrapped up, we could all be seen from space, including Chicken, who refereed five games.  One of these was with some douchey coach who failed at being a select coach and was disdainful of being back here at rec league.  (I am so tired of these douchewaffles who come back to kids sports to try to puff up their egos!  Take a viagra, add an extenze, measure your penis and GET OVER YOURSELVES!  Jesus, stop inflicting yourselves on our kids!) Anyway, this guy apparently tried to lecture her on when you could sub people in a game.  She was like, “Yeah I know.  I’ve been playing this game for eleven years, I’ve figured that much out.” Chicken– that Terminator look is not for nothing, oh no its not.

But we finished, and the next day, there was the shopping for the bridal shower (an old friend of my mom’s) and the buying of the gift and the attending of the bridal shower.  And then Wendy, Chicken and I cut out early, caught The Expendables (because if you do not see a synchronized decapitation and enjoy that shit, something is missing from your lives!) and then finished it off with Sushi for the perfect girls day out.

And yesterday was all about catching up on work, because I’m not out of the deadline woods yet (although I’m close enough to the borders to be taking a nap and know the wolves aren’t going to get me as I sleep!)

*whew*  So busy!

Oh, and thanks to the folks who commented on the Springsteen post.  BTW?  Even if you don’t subscribe to the gospel according to Bruce, there’s something you should know.  I STILL LOVE YOU!  Whoever moves you, makes you believe, that’s your Bruce.  That’s okay– we all have our own.  It’s just a lot of us have The Boss!

Oh, one more thing– given that this is a knitting blog, I betcha can’t guess what THIS IS:  (Hint:  It needs to be finished in the next month before Chicken leaves for school!)

0 thoughts on “Post Soccer/Editing Hangover”

  1. Barb says:

    Sweater? Or maybe a purse?

  2. Donna Lee says:

    Whatever it is, the colors are gorgeous. Only one of my kids ever played soccer (Kate played field hockey-girls with sticks running at each other). Em played for a year and they kept taking her off the field because she would turn red when she ran. She is cursed with my skin. We tend toward the pink and get very red when we are faced with any kind of exertion. We were forever telling the coach She's Fine!!!

  3. o.O You forgot sunscreen?

    Congrats on the athlete!!

  4. Anonymous says:


    okay, can't stand is hard. more like… meh. *grins* you can hate me after i feed your child and sway her over to the dark side of the cabin.

    um… you all NEED spf 5000. what are you thinking? *grins*

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