Soccer, the post office, and naps - GOAL!

A few weeks ago I was reading H the brochure of upcoming activities for her age group in our area. When I said, “Soccer” she immediately proclaimed she needed to participate.

And since there isn’t much I say to “no” to without a damn good cause, I said, “Okay” and signed her up.

And she loves it.

There are four main coaches. And she always wants to be with coach E who is from New York and likes telling Lio that he should go to New York and walk into a restaurant and order a “Leo” because they will know what it is there (eggs, lox, and something else I forget). He’s got a thick accent and his humor is completely lost on the kids. H refuses to speak to him, and yet he’s who she insists on being with for everything.

 
It cracks me up.
 

B, of course, won’t be left out of anything. I thought we could just watch from the bleachers, but no such luck. He wants to play too and no one minds so he follows the kids around doing the same drills and tricks. Truthfully, he’s pretty good. Better than most of the kids out there. The only thing the other kids have going for them that B doesn’t is that they follow directions. Mostly. B does for a while because it’s fun, and then they get too repetitive and he’s like “Screw this, I’m going to kick the ball into the goal a hundred times and maybe sit on it for a few minutes for good measure.”

Of course, at the very beginning when the kids were all telling their names, they were also supposed to say their favorite sport and H shouts out, “Baseball!” And I’m sitting there scratching my head wondering where in the world she’s heard about baseball because I don’t think we’ve ever mentioned it (though she’s playing t-ball this spring with her bff, but I don’t think I’ve told her this yet).

When the hour long fun was over (we have five more weeks of this), B snuggled into the Ergo with a big yawn while we trudged to the post office where H promptly melted down that we were giving her pictures and box away (it’s only taken this long to mail her paternal grandparents their Halloween pics, but I’m blaming that on J since he kept insisting he’d do it…). It’s always fun when you’ve got Asians and old people looking at you so disapprovingly and you just smile (perhaps slightly wickedly) at them and continue to “allow” your child to wail about her box. Of course, I scooped her up when it was time to go and plopped her into the car.

 

And right after lunch she and B both fell asleep for a nap – GOAL! H never naps anymore, and B had gone the past week with no nap. So I feel successful.

Of course, amidst the public meltdown I remember thinking, “Dear God, I bet no other person in the world has ever had a toddler freak out in public.” And once all was calm again, I laughed at myself. What person with a toddler hasn’t had them melt down at some point?

Regardless, I was all calm and Zen and really happy that some days I really kick ass at being the parent I want to be.

So kudos to soccer for putting my babes down for naps, but not so much for the meltdown.

At least they both had fun!