Not to brag, but I am kinda cool.
I mean on a scale of 1 to 10 I am a solid 11 when it comes to being relaxed and easy going. Not much you can do to wind me up. Years of serving passengers, who took news that there is no more chicken meals left on board an aircraft worse then if I told them we were crash landing, ironed out any chance of me being confrontational or high strung.
My husband on the other hand, is a worrier. A perfectionist even. So when he signed up Little J for soccer this year I figured it should be his spiel. Let him stand on the sidelines and worry about our son’s performance, because I am just too relaxed and not competitive at all. But faith would have it that he ended up being the coach. Not one to miss out on an opportunity to see my man
struggle with 5 year olds wearing shorts I ended up going to some of the practices.
Because I am so incredibly cool I never ever, not in a million years imagined I would be that mom. But I am. I am a the shouting one, the annoyed one, the absurd one and the embarrassing one. It started innocently enough. I really was just trying to help by guiding Little J from the side, helping out my husband. You know, the occasional ‘no, the other goal mate’ and ‘go get the ball’ followed by ‘kick it mate, kick it!’ and ‘go boy go!!’ and finally ‘get up, your fine, just run’ and the dreaded ‘you can do it, go, score!’
I look around and all the other parents are so zen and truly practicing ‘it is all about the fun’ motto. And there I am, trying to get my kid to stop picking flowers and playing fireman and start scoring points. Major points in fact. The ones that will lead this nation into winning world cup. Of course, my son ignores me on the soccer field as much as he does all other times. Lucky for me the coach has not thrown me of the field yet, possibly because he would have no clean underwear within a week. But he did mention the other day it was nice at the game because the parents are so lovely and do not interfere with his work at all. Yes, that was the one I did not go to.
Please tell me that soccer brings the bizarre out of you too?