Like all of us, I don't take enough time to step back from the brushing and the wiping and the washing and the doing to really reflect on what I'm doing here raising these boys. Sometimes I think about it for a split second, yes, but I don't really think about it all that often.
The other day, at soccer, Jack made me remember. You see, soccer has always been a bit of a struggle with him. Daddy wants to play it with him. Daddy cares deeply about soccer and wants the boys to care deeply about it, too. He really is trying not to push it on them, and I think he does well with that. But that doesn't change the fact that he WANTS them to love it too. To share it with them.
So far, Jack hasn't loved it too. Not even a little bit. Keith has coached his team for the past three seasons, and Jack has fought us all the way. Mind you, he fights us about most things, so it isn't entirely surprising. But still.
He says he doesn't want to go, doesn't want to kick the ball. He gets frustrated when he can't run as fast as the other kids. Last season I had to put him in time out for half of a game because he threw a fit about how one of the other really good kids was scoring all of the goals and "THAT'S NOT FAIR!!"
So that's where we've been with it. In fact, Keith told Jack on Friday on the way to soccer that if he didn't want to play after this season, then fine. He could stop. We weren't going to make him do it anymore unless he really wanted to. (Please note, just like everything, once Jack gets to soccer practice or a game, he has fun. It's the getting him there that is an issue).
So that brings us to Saturday morning. It was his second game of the season. Last season, he scored three goals all season, and each time he was ecstatic. It was always a pleasure to watch him so full of joy. Saturday, he gets dressed in his soccer jersey by himself. He goes out and plays around with daddy on the field before the game with all of the kids with a smile on his face. And he really wants to play with the game starts. As always, he sort of hangs back from the pack of kids that are crowded around the ball. He isn't the aggressive type, really, and I think all that makes him a bit nervous. But in this league, not being in the middle of that sometimes really works out in your favor. If there are six kids crowded around the ball, oftentimes the ball shoots out from the pack. And he's often standing there. This week, it happened three times. And all three times, he kicked it right into the goal.
Right afterward, all three times, he turned toward the sideline, right where I was. And his eyes searched for me. He had a huge smile on his face and his eyes were lit up in pleasure. But he wouldn't jump up and down, wouldn't raise his hands up in the air, until his eyes found mine. He needed me to be so happy too, and show it.
And I did! Every time, I'd jump up and clap. I was so proud of that boy! And the thing I was proud of, of course, was not the soccer goal in a U6 YMCA soccer game. It was that little boy, and him having so much excitement in his little self! He is such a cautious boy, so smart and serious, and being his parent can be tedious, lord knows. But Saturday morning, he was just a five year old boy, jumping up and down for a soccer goal.
And I was just his proud mama, as I always will be.
