When couples make the big decision to become parents, it’s easy to focus on the fun, cutesy stuff. We get wrapped up in the little clothes and soft baby blankets. Stuffed animals and teeny tiny newborn diapers. Those little baby things turn us to mush; all we see is cuteness and joy. The very sight of a newborn baby, particularly your own, reduces even the manliest, unemotive man to a pile of tears. Really, having a baby is a lovely thing.
When you are in the cutesy-wutesy phase of pregnancy/ parenthood, the very thought that someday you’ll be forced to sit on a soccer field on a Sunday afternoon with the sun beating on your neck and the temperature and humidity numbers firmly planted in the mid 90s range, doesn’t once enter your mind.
You see bunched up, wrinkly newborn hands and feet. You see toothless grins and sloppy kisses. It’s all puppies and rainbows. You don’t see sunburns, copious amounts of sweat and, in my case, bruised toes from a cleat vs flip flop incident. When you become a parent, you know, logically, that you’ll have to do some unpleasant stuff. Lots of diapers and nose wiping. Tantrums, the permanent smell of spit up on your neck and sleepless nights. Oh, the sleepless nights. But, when you’re holding your precious baby, at the time, those things don’t seem so bad. Completely manageable. This is your flesh and blood, for crying out loud. Why wouldn’t you want to endure all the hard stuff?
Parenting and sacrifice go hand-in-hand.
I’m not much of an idealist. With me, the glass is always half-empty, but even I was taken aback by the amount of sweating I’ve endured whilst cheering on my little soccer All-Star. I’m proud of Caroline and glad she’s participating in this soccer tournament, but holy moly, I’m tired of sweating. And the worst part is that as much as I am sweating while SITTING, those poor girls are really working hard.
But, they’re young and resilient. And besides, this is MY blog, so for now, I’ll pretend that I’m the only one suffering here. Okay?
When I informed Caroline of this All Star tournament, I made it very clear that she has to play in four games in two days and it’ll be HOT. She didn’t seem to care. I guess you can’t fault the innocence and idealism of an 8 year old.
After practice on Sunday, when we wrung out our clothing and piled into the
oven car, Caroline claimed that she had reached “maximum hotitude.” This, of course, made me chuckle, because it was cute. Then she told me she heard it on tv, which, well…it’s still a good phrase. Heck, most of what I’ve learned has come from tv, so I can’t really blame her.
The team’s final practice is tonight and hallelujah, it’s only supposed to get up to 83 today. Compared to Sunday’s practice, tonight’s will be downright chilly. And the tournament this weekend? Well, let’s just say we’ll be going through a lot of sunscreen and drinking a lot of water.
On the bright side, the girls are wearing pink.
At least they’ll look cute while achieving maximum hotitude. I can’t say the same for myself, though. No matter what I wear, I’ll still be reduced to a wilted, slimy, dried out pile of cranky soccer mom.
I’ll still be proud, though.
Sweaty, but proud.