It has officially been two weeks since our four year old started playing soccer. I was going to post about it last week but I wanted to see how things developed first.
For starters, it’s the first time that all of us are actually in the same place for an extended period of time. By all of us I mean: myself, my boyfriend and all of our kids plus my ex-husband, his girlfriend and her daughters. Not to mention my family popping in, my boyfriend’s family and my ex’s family being there. Oh! And the other ex-wives on his side of the family. It’s basically the most dysfunctional group of human beings all gathered together for the sake of five small children who want to play soccer. (Of course, awkward nature spaces us out all over the sidelines).
Now then, I’ve never been a huge soccer fan and this little league wasn’t my idea to join. Rather my ex asked if I wanted Baby M to do soccer and I turned the question on my son and he said “yes.” I’m thankful that I let him make the choice himself for one reason. When he says he doesn’t want to play I get to remind him that it was his choice and he made a commitment to his team.
On the first night of soccer he realized that he wasn’t as fast or as good as all of the other kids, (it’s a four to six league so some of these kids are on their third year). He kept coming off the field and sitting with us. I could tell he felt bad, not up to par, it just wasn’t what he thought it would be. At home he’s the big brother; he is the tallest, the strongest, the fastest and better at things than his one year old brother. At soccer the other kids seem to tower over him; they’re quicker and not afraid to get in the mess of things to steal the ball. It hurt me to see him down on himself in that way… Cue the mommy pep talk.
“It’s your first day of soccer, you’ve never played before and these other kids have.”
“But they’re faster than me and they keep stealing the ball.”
“You’ll never get better sitting over here on the sidelines. You’re doing a good job and we’re proud of you, just get out there, run as fast as you can and kick the ball.”
It worked, I felt like such a good mom. He ran onto the field towards a ball that was just sitting in no man’s land during practice. He was going so fast and I knew he was planning to kick it with all of his might then… He stepped on the ball and fell right on his bum. On a positive note, he got right back up and started running around with the other kids, still apprehensive about getting into the thick of things.
Yesterday was his fourth game and he did a lot better than his first few nights. He was keeping up, trying his hardest anyways, and only left the field to get sips of water. I managed to get some action shots of him playing on the field and one of him kicking the ball into the net.
I’m so proud of him. ♥