Not Ready.
This week wraps up Colby’s first soccer debut.
It has been… interesting.
I love soccer. I know Colby enjoys kicking the ball around and being with his friends, so I figured it’d be fun to sign him up. How often do kids get to be on a team where they know everyone from the get-go?
Pretty lucky, if you ask me.
The first two games occurred while I was in New York for the BlogHer Conference, but I have been to every game since, twice a week for the past three weeks.
I didn’t anticipate how frustrating it would be.
Don’t get me wrong, our coach is rockstar. She even sacrificed her sunglasses during a recent game when Colby complained that he couldn’t see.
Our co-coach is on top of everything else, from subs to snack delegation, and reminding us where we need to be every week. Our team runs like a well-oiled machine from a coaching standpoint. The parents are supportive. The other teams have (mostly) been filled with good kids and encouraging parents.
Colby doesn’t quite get the rules, and that’s fine. He comes off the field at any given moment, even (make that especially) in the middle of a play. I love learning experiences as much as the next responsible parent, but it has become pretty draining to try and continue to motivate him to get back on the field or sit with his teammates on the sideline at least.
He goes into the game all amped up and excited. Minutes into it, he has lost all of his gusto and is whining to be done.
It’s a conundrum for me. I don’t expect much out of him, because, for heaven’s sake, he’s only four years old. I don’t want to make it miserable for him, but at the same time, I want to teach him what it means to be a good team player. Then, the worrier I am, I fret over how I’m parenting him vs. how the other parents around me are dealing with their kids. I like to think that I’m secure in my parenting decisions, but deep down, I worry that I’m not doing it right, or that other people will judge me for the way I handle situations.
Then again, I’m not going to be hard on him about it. There will be a time when that’s appropriate, and I will by all means buckle down on it, but at this age, and at this point in my parenting career, now is not the time I’m choosing to fight that battle.
I just won’t.
So, battling back and forth with myself about whether or not I’m being a good soccer mom is exhausting in itself… Meanwhile, if any of my other kids come along, I’m juggling keeping them entertained, while making sure that Colby’s being a good sport, and snapping photos of the kids who actually want to be there playing, because I volunteered to be the team’s photographer (and I love it).
There’s a definite divide in our little team of 3-to-5-year-olds. Jenny and I talked about it recently, in fact. It seems that five is the magic age. Not Colby’s “almost five,” but five, as in, going into Kindergarten this year. Those kids get it. They understand passing, scoring, teamwork, and the general rules. I’m hoping that by next year, Colby will be the same.
For now, we have one more game (that I’m not going to be at because running back and forth to the potty with Lily four times at last night’s game was plenty frustration for a week, plus, Clint wants to go watch him play), and we’ll wait until next year to try again.
He will have ample opportunities for sport exposure ahead of him. I think we’re just going to chalk this one up to a learning experience for both of us.
On the way home from last night’s game, where Colby had a near tantrum over sitting with his team or playing, he looked up at me, grinning ear-to-ear and said, “I wike soccer, Mommy! Dat was fun!”
Kids.
So, here’s what Colby does a lot of during the games:
That, and pouting on the sidelines:
(This was a dramatized pout for the camera.)
But, he does try. He tries very hard, despite the fact that he seems to be a push-magnet for kids on opposing teams. It takes a lot of gumption to get up and keep playing after being knocked down.
And he even has started to understand passing (sort of):
That’s Nathan. I think he and Colby get the prima donna award for our team. (Though Nathan backs his up with some skillz learned from his stint in Italy and two athletic parents.)
This is probably my favorite Colby soccer picture ever. He walked up to me and proudly announced, “Wook Mommy! I have TWO bawls!”
Maybe comedy will be more his thing.
For now, he’s not ready to truly grasp team sports, and that’s perfectly fine.
