sports

Treading Water Badly

There is this thing called a “Super Bowl” tonight.  Apparently, large numbers of huge men in tight pants and ginormous shoulder pads form two teams and run, touch and jump on each other, ostensibly seeking a brown oval ball. This behavior goes on for hours.  In the middle of the game, there will be a performance; it typically sucks. When there is a pause in the action, attention shifts to the commercials, which are supposed to be funny but usually end up being too try-hard.  And then we all gather around the water cooler at work the next day to recap it.  I wonder what the aliens will think of this lame behavior.  Fun fact: sports were invented to channel male energy in lieu of battles and wars. Socially-sanctioned fighting is cool!

Usually we watch the Super Bowl so we can feel culturally relevant.  I hate football.  What a slow, irritating game!  Give me hockey or basketball any day.  This year since we don’t have cable, we aren’t watching the game.  I couldn’t tell you who is playing although I do know that Beyonce, queen of the world, is performing at halftime.  And Twitter is keeping me informed.  As for us, we’ll be watching Downton Abbey and we might even finish the season because the season 3 DVD arrived last week.

Y’all, last week was rough.  Crazy busy at work.  Nights flying by as if they were minutes long.  Poor Daniel has a nasty abrasion on his neck due to a playground collision and then threw up 10 times on Friday.  Thankfully it looks like his tummy trouble was due to congestion and not the flu.  I woke up on Saturday with a nasty migraine – the second Saturday in a row.  I’m really sensitive to changes in barometric pressure; nice to know my head could be part of the NWS spotter program.  Jimmy has had headaches as well.  The tummy trouble upended any plans we had for the weekend, and we feel like we finally hit our stride today.  And now it’s time to go to bed and prepare for the soul-crushing reality that is Monday.  At least we all had much-needed hair cuts.  I swear I think I lost weight from having my mane chopped.

May this week give us a chance to breathe.

Not Bending It Like Beckham

Daniel has had three soccer classes, and they have been by turns hysterical, frustrating and mortifying.

Hmm. This grass is interesting!

The Hysterical

Imagine 32 3-year-olds and six coaches.  It’s like herding cats. They divide them into groups to maximize the potential to focus, but you still usually have 2 or 3 kids in each group running off in opposite directions as the coaches try to organize them into a line or coax them into chasing after the ball.  And the grass and occasional weed on the field often prove to be too tempting.  Why pay attention to the coach when you can pick a flower?  Better yet, pick the flower and offer it to the coach! Each child has his or her own soccer ball and during one activity, the coaches tried to get the kids to run down the field, grab a ball and run the other way.  That plan backfired because the children only wanted their individual ball, and the activity stalled as the children pawed over every ball, oblivious to the shouts of the coaches to pick up any ball.

The fields also have cones marking off certain areas, and those cones are irresistible.  The first week, Daniel wanted to pick them up and move them.  The second week, he and several other children wore them like hats.  The parents are supposed to remain on the sidelines and usually we are doubled over, laughing.  Each session has a carnival-like atmosphere, with coolers, folding chairs and parents, grandparents and siblings watching and chatting.  I am amazed at the patience the coaches have with this age group as they try to teach them a skill or have them go where they need to be (usually without much success).

Who says you can’t use hands?

The Frustrating

Soccer has been very eye-opening for us.  Daniel says he likes it, but he is not doing a good job of paying attention to what is going on around him, acknowledging that he hears or following directions. He delights in doing his own thing, often running off in the other direction or losing interest in the activity after kicking his ball once or twice.  He’ll frequently stop what he’s doing and come running over to us with a big smile on his face.  We urge him repeatedly to return to the circle and sit on his ball, follow the other kids, etc., but it doesn’t help much.    It’s especially frustrating because the majority of the children manage to stay on task and follow directions, so to us, it seems that Daniel’s desire to do his own thing is especially noticeable.

I know. He’s 3.  I know.  This team is for kids who won’t turn 4 before August 1, 2012, so there is a good chance that a many of the kids on his team are closer to turning 4 and that age difference is a lot different developmentally than a child who turned 3 in June.  Maybe they’ve also participated in soccer before because they all seem to know what they are doing.  Maybe our expectations for him are too high.  It’s not like he is the only one who is zigging while everyone else zags.  A couple of kids cling to their parents and watch.  We observed (happily) another child appearing to cast spells with a plastic fork while spinning in circles last night.  We like that he has spirit, energy and personality, but sometimes we wish he’d conform just a little.  It also doesn’t help that soccer is on weeknights after not napping at day care and before he’s eaten.  I don’t think that it’s at the best time for him to be able to focus, but that was the only session they had. And seeing him in group settings makes me wonder whether he’s just socially immature or if there’s something else is going on.

Daniel’s the one lagging behind, focusing on stepping on a cone.

The Mortifying

Daniel in a group setting with other children can be unpredictable right now.  The first session he was fascinated by a bigger girl and kept chasing her and bumping into her until she started to cry.  It was like he stalked her.  Then he turned around and bopped a little boy.  When he sits with the other children, he will invade their space and try to pat them and nudge them.  We spend the hour watching him closely and trying to defuse the situation if he gets too handsy.  It’s exhausting and so embarrassing because our child is not only not following directions but also bothering the other children. Accurately or not, I feel like the other parents are thinking, “their child is a problem child.” I don’t like what we turn into either.  We hiss at him to behave, to leave the other children alone.  We hiss at him, “Do you want to go home?  If not, you need to listen to watch the coach is saying.”  We turn into cold disciplinarians, and I simultaneously wonder if the other parents think we are being too hard on him or not hard enough.  And Daniel will look at us like he’s trying to figure out where these hard-asses came from.

And then yesterday’s session came.  Of course it’s one thing for you to feel frustrated by your child’s behavior but quite another for anyone else to say anything.  Yesterday was picture day.  Daniel did well for his individual picture but the team picture was a bit of a nightmare.  Lining up 32 kids would be.  After what seemed like an eternity, three rows of children were somewhat neatly arranged.  Daniel was in the back row and supposed to be standing but often bobbing up and down.  The photographer was ready to take the picture, and the coaches were trying to keep Daniel standing up and facing the camera.  You know, doing what all the other kids were doing.  Finally, exasperated, the photographer said, “If I had my Ritalin with me, I’d give you some.”

I was so embarrassed that it took me a minute to realize what the photographer had said.  Was he voicing what everyone else was thinking?  That our child was too hyper and needed medicating?  That his poor impulse control is more than being a three-year-old?

The team picture finally taken, everyone left.  Daniel, sundowning from no nap, started to cry because he didn’t want to leave.  He wanted to stay and play soccer.  We strapped in our poor little boy and then Jimmy went to talk to the photographer about his comment.  We drove home, Daniel crying and me wondering if we were expecting too much and hating that I felt so disappointed and frustrated with our sweet boy.

Maybe soccer’s not his sport.  Maybe we should look into hockey; he could be an enforcer.

The infamous team picture; note the head coach holding Daniel’s arms.