The Tale of the Reluctant Soccer Mom
It’s official: N. had her first soccer practice yesterday.
Despite the affected disdain I’ve been projecting on Twitter, I’m really very excited for her and not the slightest bit upset that this event has destroyed the last vestiges of my “edginess” by relegating me to the domain of “Suburban Soccer Mom.” Okay, maybe I’m slightly upset. But not at her. Thank goodness, I traded the Volvo SUV in for a Prius, otherwise I might have to get my eyebrow pierced or tattoo some Chinese profanity in a prominent place on my body.
N.’s been wanting to play on a soccer team for a while, but Tariq and I thought it best to wait until she was past five for her to start. Mostly because, and I’m not judging, but a three year old playing a sport “to win” is just creepy.
As we got ready for practice yesterday, I felt a little flustered. Other than the fact that it’s kind of like basketball, I don’t know anything about soccer. In fact, this may surprise you (not really), but I am not a very sporty person. These days, there’s just all this blurring of the lines. Now? You can be an Asian kid, book smart, a pretty girl AND play sports. It was not necessarily this way when I was growing up.
Or so it seemed to me at the time.
Anyway, as the great philosopher Bob Dylan is known to have conjectured, “the times they are a-changing,” and to my dismay, my Asian child, who is both good at math and a pretty girl, wants to play soccer. Note that I am not dismayed because she’s a girl or Asian. Those things clearly occupy the higher rungs of the human evolutionary ladder, so that would be silly.
No, I am dismayed because I have no idea what I’m doing.
And I hate having no idea what I’m doing.
Yesterday.
I fumble to get my daughter dressed in weirdly synthetic shorts and socks that look like they’re going to be, well, very… hot. I pack snacks, water, and a small towel in a backpack. I literally grab her younger brother under my arm and we leave
For the practice.
Of Soccer.
Where the kids… they play… the soccer.
We get to the field, I have no idea where “Field Seven” is. Why aren’t there numbers? Damn, I not only don’t know what I’m doing, but I also look like I do not know what I’m doing.
This? Is my worst fear realized.
As I’m looking around for the God-forsaken Field Seven, I notice that the other kids have their shin guards under their socks. I’d strapped Nuha’s guards over her socks. I ask her as I inconspicuously gesture towards the metallic red and black shin guards that would look more appropriate on a character in X-Men, “Did Daddy tell you how you’re supposed to wear these?”
“This is how I wore them at the store,” she says helpfully.
I think for a minute and try to conceal the fact that I’m studying the other children’s shins. I decide that Tariq has probably had her try them on over her socks simply because it would have been a pain to have her try them on under her socks at the sporting goods store. I tell her to sit down on the grass, so I can fix them.
I feel incredibly stupid.
I feel like everyone is staring at me.
I have no idea why I feel like this.
“The grass is itchy,” she whines.
“Honey, if you’re going to be great at soccer, you need to learn to love the grass.” I have no idea if this is true. In fact, I have no idea what you have to do to be great at soccer. Also, tragically, I have no idea why I just said that. I’m pretty sure, however, that I shouldn’t have said it at all.
“Oh, okay…” she wiggles around as if she’s trying to settle into the ground… she’s mushing herself further into the grass as she dutifully accepts and applies my (made up) wisdom on the subject. I can see she doesn’t love the grass, but I can also see that she wants to.
This somehow makes me feel like a terrible parent.
This also makes me wonder if the reason I never played soccer is because I’m allergic to grass.
And, then, thankfully, her father shows up, and I can relax. Because he knows about this stuff. He’s the jock, I’m the brain. Well, technically, he’s a brain, also. So, basically, I’m just an un-athletic loser.
So, anyway, like I said, I can relax now.
Except that I don’t.
Because completely true to form, my daughter is being super timid and cautiously observant for the first fifty minutes of practice. She is also slightly overwhelmed to the point where she mentally checks out, like, four times and I have to constantly remind her to listen as her coach tells her to stand next to her cone during a drill.
Why am I worried about her doing well at something I’ve never done? This is because of me, I think. She’s not comfortable because I’m not athletic enough. I beat myself up a little for not being more athletic. I should start playing sports. Tennis, maybe?
Wait. I hate sports. I don’t want to play sports.
The last five minutes go swimmingly, though, and she finally gets a feel for what’s going on. She gains control of the ball during the scrimmage and passes to a boy on her team and he scores the winning goal.
I am elated. She is having fun. She is enjoying herself. She likes this. It’s going to be fun for her.
And, then.
I am shaken by the strangest feeling.
My daughter is doing something that I have never done nor will I ever do.
My daughter is taking a path than I’ve never taken nor will I ever take.
I don’t know if this is normal, but, at that moment, I feel … alone. Because this is hers.
In fact, even when the doctor placed her on my chest just minutes after she was born, I did not feel what I am feeling now. Even when this child stopped nursing, I did not feel what I am feeling now. Even when this child stopped sleeping in my bed, I did not feel what I am feeling now. (For the record, what I felt then? Was happy.)
I feel, for the first time in five years, separate.
Different.
Like an outsider.
My mind is spinning, and I’m envisioning conversations about not wanting to go to college, about not getting married, about not wanting children, about not wanting a family… I am realizing that a promise to love your child no matter what means that you actually do have to love them no matter what. No matter where they go, what they choose, who they become… or where they choose to run… I won’t always get to pick, nor do I want to.
It feels strange. Up until now, I have been pushing towards independence of action and even, as much as a five year old can live it, independence of thought.
And, now, there she is… on the field, with her shin guards inside her socks, of course, in those stupid shorts… just running fast.
In another direction.
Her own.
30 Responses to The Tale of the Reluctant Soccer Mom
Leave a Reply Cancel reply
-
Articles
- April 2012
- March 2012
- February 2012
- January 2012
- December 2011
- November 2011
- October 2011
- September 2011
- August 2011
- June 2011
- May 2011
- April 2011
- March 2011
- February 2011
- January 2011
- December 2010
- November 2010
- October 2010
- September 2010
- August 2010
- July 2010
- June 2010
- May 2010
- April 2010
- March 2010
- February 2010
- January 2010
- December 2009
- November 2009
- October 2009
- September 2009
- August 2009
- July 2009
- June 2009
- May 2009
- April 2009
- March 2009
- February 2009
- January 2009
- December 2008
- November 2008
- October 2008
- September 2008
- August 2008
- July 2008
- May 2008
- April 2008
- February 2008
- January 2008
- December 2007
-
Meta
But you are always where home is – and she’ll run back to that over and over and over.
(I can answer any of your soccer questions.)
@Sybil Law, I hope so.
May Allah always protect and guide our little ones on their paths aameen.
Hugs,
Shabina
@Shabina, He gets that from Amma, right? She always says that.
I love you too much, too. LOL
Faiqa..I hate to admit it but I have tears in my eyes after reading this one. With both of my kids, I have been feeling..well..sort of detached recently. They are growing up and wanting to do things that they find “cool”. We have to let them take their own path and love them for who they are becoming.
PS: You make a super awesome soccer mom.
Love you..
@Sahar Khan, I know, it’s so hard, sometimes, though.
I am teary and sniffle now, so thanks for that. My son came to see me at work today. He came by to bring me something and I was happy to see him and surprised at how thin he is. I was surprised because it has been weeks since I’ve seen him. He hasn’t been living at home for a couple of months because he’s almost 20 and it’s time for him to go his own way. And I miss the little boy who would run to me at t-ball and hockey practice.
@Lisa, I have this elaborate fantasy that when my daughter decides to go to college that the whole family will just moves to wherever she’s going and that everyone will be just fine with them. Heh. That’s probably kind of unrealistic?
This was great. It’s sort of surreal to see kids start down their own road. I’ve been going through this with my oldest two boys. We used to have so much in common, Star Wars, comic books, etc. But now they are developing new interests, and I’m having to get familiar with them to know what they are talking about. It’s actually kind of hard, and at the same time comforting seeing them develop into their own person.
PS. The Prius is like a stealth fighter for soccer moms – keeps you totally under the radar.
@Clark Kent’s Lunchbox, I love that stealth fighter thing. Yes. YES!!
My oldest is quite the sporty kid – I am not. Over the last few years I’ve learned enough about soccer to hold my own just by sitting on the sidelines. You’ll get it and you’ll enjoy it because she does. But yes, this independence and going their own way is hard. Really hard. I imagine it gets worse before it gets better.
you’re definitely not alone.
@Pgoodness, It’s a very bittersweet feeling. Actually, I did start enjoying myself midway through the practice.
Ah, the curse of the soccer mom! We also faced our first soccer season a few months ago with our five year old. I chose to tackle it the way I do things at work…I volunteered to be the Team Manager (i.e., the boss!). Because I have to have something TO DO. It went ok, and now our son is clamoring to play again in the upcoming season. Sigh.
It’s hard to see them so separate, isn’t it?
@Kathryn (@kat1124), I thought about volunteering. The verdict is still out.
Just wait until that first game! That’s when it really changes…
Good job! Next time your not sure about equipment though, call me, I used to play.
@Hockeymandad, I did actually call Tariq, he used to play, too. I left that part out because it interrupted the flow.
I actually WANT my kids to do something I don’t understand, just so I can prove to myself that I’m not my father (who understood sports but knew nothing of the arts, and therefore had no interest in my music).
Also, I give it a month before you’re screaming on the sidelines to sweep the leg while going for a tackle.
@SciFi Dad, I laughed out loud at “sweep the leg.” SWEEP THE LEG, JOHNNY, SWEEP THE LEG!! Karate Kid was awesome.
This is how I felt when we moved to Florida and I realized that my children’s childhoods would be vastly different than my own. It’s… weird.
@Miss Britt, I imagine Tariq goes through that everyday, too.
i love this post.
you are an amazing mom.
enjoy the ride with her. incredible what we can learn from kids, eh?
@hello haha narf, Thanks, hon, I plan to… and, yes, my greatest teachers have been my children.
I love this post a lot a lot. I’m so tired right now but there is so much I want to say! Like, I’m no soccer mom, either. I had no idea how to cut oranges for crying out loud. And I had to bring snacks for all the kids and of course, oranges are what you’re supposed to bring, right? I had to laugh at the shin guards thing, though.
My son started playing last summer, at the age of 4. He didn’t love it, but he went. I was the proudest mom ever, even though he never really even touched the soccer ball.
And it’s so true that our children will do things to amaze us, and surprise us. And scare us, with their independence.
@Loukia, Of course… oranges is a fantastic idea!!
I hate that feeling, of not knowing what’s going on and looking stupid, even though nobody is around who is paying attention or cares. Why do you think I get to places early? That gives me the chance to watch what other people do so I can pretend I know what I’m doing.
I can totally relate to this on so many levels! I wrote recently about my oldest daughter and her first experience on the soccer field. Now she is in college and stretching us both even more – she’s studying abroad in Turkey for the semester.
Glad I stumbled onto your blog!
Cathy
@Cathy ~ Tadpoles and Teacups, I just got hives at the thought of my baby going to another country without me…. sigh. (Also, welcome!)
I stumbled upon this blog after Googling “How do I slice oranges for soccer?”. Just wanted to say that you’ve given me a wonderful laugh for the day. Thanks!
My daughter is 11 and half Asian – she’s just started playing soccer on her JV team for the first time. I am an un-athletic loser who knows nothing about the sport. At the first game, I asked my husband if they make a Soccer Mom Rules for Dummies book.
Good luck
I hope your daughter continues to enjoy soccer.
I love this post. Love it. My most profound parenting revelations are often centered around letting my children go and realizing that unconditional love sometimes looks different than I imagined before having them.
Hi Faiqa,
I’ve never read your blog before, but happened upon it today and just had to drop you a line. What a beautifully written essay and beautiful expression of parenting. And, I can totally totally relate to it…the whole article…In fact, I came across it today because I was googling “how to cut oranges for soccer” as I got my 6 year old daughter ready for her game this morning….
Much thanks,
Charu