Ode to Spring Soccer

  (Twelve steps for cold, muddy misery:)

1. Rush through homework, skip dinner, change out of uniforms...

all...

because... 

of ... 

SPRING SOCCER. 

*Heavenly choir*

2. Dress five-year-old in heavily gauged plastic shields. Strategically place over shins.  
This is in case of attack.

3. Place expensive, uncomfortable, fashionable shoes on five-year-old's feet.  Attach dangerous spikes to bottom of said shoes to ward off assault from other participants. Feel comforted that five-year-old is wearing her shin shields for gosh sakes! Reason that the added mud and grass ALL over truck is worth it.

4. Important: Forget to dress children for Louisiana's freaking hot/cold, menopausal weather especially so you can win the idiot mom award...again. Leave house with light sweaters and jackets. Don't bother with hats, warm coats or any of that tomfoolery. It's February after all.

5. Drive to soccer. Psyche five-year-old into playing.

6. Get five children out of truck and navigate to one soccer field that is eight miles away from mode of transportation. Wait for five-year-old to rapidly dissolve into a puddle of blubbering incoherent tears (apparent fear of peers in cleats).

7. Bribe five-year-old with every imaginable toy, treat, and tantalizing temptation you can think of. Be flatly repudiated. The past five and a half years mean nothing. 

You are dead to her.

8. Spend 15 minutes playing soccer with other little people while simultaneously entertaining and freaking out baby on hip.

9. Throughout duration, ignore the five-year-old who sleeps in your home, and who is standing on sidelines, crying, blowing snot bubbles and complaining of low temperatures.

Pretend it's all so fun.

10. Last five minutes; give five-year-old your sweater to layer with and wipe nasal mucus on.

 11. Stop for a moment to ponder. To wonder why you're playing soccer with a bunch of midget people shorter than you are. Work through the name confusion of other girl on team named, "Sarah."  Realize sadly no one was cheering for you to begin with. 

12. Leave... towing five muddy, cold, whiny, and crying kids.

Yay spring soccer. 

YOU SUCK!

(Plus my sweater's all snotty.)