Here's an exhilarating story about a mom who had no choice but to bring three kids to soccer practice.
I'll save you the suspense: It was me.
This is season 3 of soccer for Ryan (we even skipped a few in between). He likes it, never complains and he's excited for the games...practices, not so much. But as long as he gets that cheap trophy at the end, he's good to go!
And to get it out of the way now: He pretty much stinks because he refuses to practice at home. But as long as he likes it, we'll let him play.
Tonight I found myself having to drag the little kids to practice with me because the other half of the parental unit is away on business. I'm the one regularly assigned to practice anyway because his dad can't bear to watch. Admittedly, it is painful. One time, in the middle of a scrimmage he asked his coach if squirrels were nocturnal...
I literally worried about this excursion all day as I sat at the office strategizing about what I'd bring to keep the other two occupied and possible escape plans for when all hell broke loose.
First plan: Cheese balls. Never fails. They are the nectar of the gods to Justin. But like a rookie I brought one big bag for two kids. FAIL. There is no way to describe the amount of whine that went with those cheese...balls. At one point Justin had 4 shoved in his mouth at once like a chipmunk to ensure that he got more than Posh Spice (there's a soccer tie-in to her nickname for today).
And while the cheese ball storm was brewing, I was attempting to still look like a supportive mother to the kid on the field who wouldn't stop wiggling his loose tooth with his tongue like Lizard Boy.
Take a moment.
There was also a big hole in her jean shorts on her left butt cheek. Seriously, doesn't she have a mirror? Yes, that's a white tank top.
OK, you can stop looking at the boobage now.
And here's a shot of the kids during the 32 seconds they thought coloring would be fun. The only 32 seconds of the entire time that I looked like I actually had my act together.
Last season, Ryan and I worked out a few hand gestures so that I could keep him on track and focused from the sidelines because evidently I'm both a soccer and a sign-language expert.
Yes, he's that kid: the grass-picker, bottle-cap-finder, boy who stood in the goal and declared himself to be "THE CAVE MASTER."
Maybe we should have had a little refresher during the car ride over because the two-finger-point towards his coach coupled with the Mom Look of Death wasn't getting the point across. So Ryan stood there contently wiggling his tooth...until he grabbed his crotch and gave me the I-gotta-pee look. I told him to wait because I wasn't going to make a family outing of the hike back up to the bathroom only to deal with Justin getting completely naked like he does in every other public restroom.
And Ryan's fantastic suggestion of going in the bushes 20 feet away wasn't going to fly - I'm not that kind of mother. But then he added a little dance to the crotch-grab and his coach sent him ALONE to the bathroom. The coach is a man...a mom wouldn't have done that.
Then I let Justin pee in the bushes because I evolved into that kind of mother very quickly around 6:45 this evening. Or maybe I just like him better.
Midway through practice, the kids made a friend and invented the game "Throw Mulch in the Bushes."
Did you scroll up to look at the boobs again?
Anyway, their new friend had on Crocs which isn't conducive to playing in mulch and he shook out his shoes 5 times. Poor kid.
And although I've claimed it to my kids, I do not in fact have eyes in the back of my head. So I told them that there were snakes in the bushes that would bite them if they didn't get away and to play in front of Mommy so I can watch them and Ryan at the same time. Nothing like a little snake fear.
And here is Justin when he decided to do his best Fresh Prince impersonation. "Yo homes smell ya later."
Then as quickly as it started, practice was over. The coach threw in a hint that they needed a team mom (he doesn't know who he's dealing with).
While he was making his parent announcement he gently gestured at Ryan and made eye contact with me and and said "If this is your kid's first season maybe you should come to the game early and watch some of the other teams."
WHAT THE??? Was it my Sucky Soccer Mom performance or Ryan's playing ability that caused him to make that ridiculous suggestion?
Only I'm allowed to say my kid stinks (and evidently that little punk Jack last season).
So I chimed in: "This isn't Ryan's first season, you just can't tell from his soccer skills." Not sure that helped. Probably not.
Perhaps I should be concerned that my kid is being coached by a guy who smokes enough crack to think that I am going to show up with these three any earlier to ANYTHING than I possibly have to.
Maybe he didn't see the neon orange cheese ball remnants all over our shirts or the mulch in our hair because if he did, he'd have certainly given us a pass for coming to the game early.
Do I need to throw in another hint about being a Facebook liker? Because I'm needy. VERY needy. OK, it's the box on the left that actually LOOKS like Facebook dad...