Saturday Soccer, Stegosaurus, and Sleep

We muddled through Saturday.

"The soccer field is a long way off so we need to leave early. We don't want to be late!" Em is getting my number and following in her mom's footsteps.

We leave at 8:45 a.m., with a map, bound for a 9:10 warm-up, the first game is at 9:30 and we get to sit through 2 of them. Thank goodness the coaches are striving to teach the children sportsmanship and love of the game and not focusing on winning.

The trip to the soccer field is a mini-adventure. I have the map which I am religiously following.
"I can guide you, Grandma. I know the way. We don't need the map. You just turn here." Em wants to be my navigator, but I have strong memories of my walk home from her school.
"See, it is right over there. Just turn here."
"But there is no through street," I protest.
"Well, we can walk," Em responds.
I elect to follow the map.

After securing a parking place, I load everything up - Jr. in the stroller, the girls and their gear, my purse, a book I plan to read while waiting (HA!), diaper bag with Jr's needs, and a folding chair for me. We are 20 minutes early.

I stake out an area on the soccer field sidelines, facing away from the sun. Apparently, it is a favored place for everyone. The coach requests that the orange team please sit on the opposite side of the field so the team knows they are there. This is my first experience at a youth soccer game, although I have had TONS of experience at endless swim meets. I am thinking this is better because it is shorter and because I don't have to worry that Jr.will fall in the water and drown.

The area resembles an ant mound that has been disturbed as the kids rush around in utter excitement. Bright colored jerseys identify the different teams and the girls are roaming around, visiting their friends. Jr. and I watch from our selected spot on the sidelines - he in the stroller, I in my chair. I pat myself on the back for not having to sit on a hard bench for 2, or more, hours. After Jr. processes the information that some of the people are running free, I have to let him out or listen to the caterwauling from the stroller. I let him him out and we run around the unmarked, open areas. Whoops....water there, run the other way. Whoops....team practice area, run the other direction. Stopping at all interesting sticks, stones, and bugs, we make our way around the field. Suddenly Jr. has had enough and heads for the soccer field. Now that he has discovered it, there's no stopping him. Back in the stroller he goes and everyone within earshot is subjected to his caterwauling. To their credit, none of the parents bat an eyelash. They have probably been through this before.

Everyone gets to play in these games. Ab's team plays first. Her foot never connects with the ball, but she runs back and forth at top speed. When it is her turn to be the goalie, she digs up weeds and makes a hole in the dirt. After her game, she gathers her snack and brings it over to share with her sister and brother. That's Abs, she shares everything. She also is carrying a large brown thing in a plastic baggie.
"What is that?" I ask.
"It is a fossil," she answers, munching on fingertip size cookie bits.
I look it over carefully but I don't see anything out of the ordinary.
"It just looks like a rock to me," I challenge her.
"That's what the coach said too, but it really is a fossil. I have studied them and I know a Stegosaurus plate when I see one!" Who am I to argue with her?

Em's game is fairly eventful as 3 players are hurt. One is hit on the hand by the ball, another is kicked on the leg, and I don't know what happened to the third player. They all survive. Em manages to block a kick and kick the ball 3 times. She threw the ball in from the sideline directly to a group of green-shirted players gathered to her left. She wears a red shirt.

After the games, we rush back to the house, have lunch, clean up our morning mess, pack clothes for the weekend, and head to my house. They are supposed to play with a neighbor's visiting grandchildren but we arrive too late. Taking time for Jr. to run and exercise, we play outside for a couple of hours. Then I gather them in the kitchen, fix supper, give baths, and ready them for bed. They don't give me any argument when I put them to bed and allow them to read for a few minutes.
"How many minutes?" Abs asks.
I look at my watch for the first time in hours.
"We'll see," I answer.
I can't believe I have put them to bed at 6 p.m.!