I am now *OFFICIALLY* a soccer mom!

 I don't mind telling you that being a so-called "soccer mom" has always been my greatest ambition. I can't explain it - some children grow up wanting to be firefighters, ballerinas, teachers, astronauts, and I cycled through all of those phases as well. But by the time I was an adult, even while I was a teacher, I knew what I wanted most was to be a mom. But not just any mom. A soccer mom. I wanted to drive my kids to soccer practice, bearing juice boxes and shin guards, and certainly wearing jeans and tennies. I am proud to say that now, here I am. The girls have grown up and joined a soccer team.

Kate has turned out to be quite the little soccer player, but it was a slow start. She spent the entire first practice on the sidelines (because she was "shy") while Brooklyn jumped right in there and went after the ball, giggling even when she fell down or was out of a game. But eventually Kate joined in and seemed to find it easy, while Brooklyn grew increasingly distracted and also refuses to play if she is cold (which is always, past August). My favorite moment from this practice: Kate and Brooklyn are partnered together to practice passing, and Kate finally says in exasperation, "Brooklyn. You need to pay attention to the ball and nothing else when I kick it to you." She then kicked the ball to Brooklyn and at exactly the same instant Brooklyn turned around and stared up at the sky behind her. Classic.

My other favorite moment was when Kate and one of her teammates (a 5-year-old girl) were both going after the ball - the other girl was supposed to try to get it away from Kate - and they were running over this "field" that was actually made up of great lumpy mounds of packed rock-hard earth, thanks to this summer's drought, and the other little girl tripped and fell backwards on the hard ground. Kate didn't miss a beat but stopped short and immediately picked her teammate up off the ground, before any of us could even react. It was so automatic and so Kate - it's in her nature to take care of everyone around her by instinct. I don't mean to sound callous and uncaring myself, but I'm sure I would have gone for the ball had I been in her shoes - er, cleats. Not on purpose, of course, but I just have such a one-track mind I would have been thinking of my primary goal to chase the ball and it would have taken a conscious recognition and shift of focus for me to think to help the other player. For Kate, it's like a knee-jerk reflex for her to help others.

Then we come to their first game, which was on Monday. The games are a little late, so it got dark fast, and VERY cold (it was the only day this week we had cold and wet weather, of course). It started to pour halfway through the short game, but those little players pushed through! (Except for Brooklyn, who was huddled under a blanket with me and Troy.) It was hilarious because when we showed up, their opponents were this little team of 4-year-old boys who had apparently been professionally trained. They had fancy footwork tricks and automatically fell into formation on each play, while our little team fumbled across the field and even made an own-goal. It just looked like a little kid comedy movie. (Needless to say, we did not win.) The whole game was pretty awesome, though. I see why they call it "bunch ball" at this age - when, for example, I was able to use my cell phone to take a picture of everyone on the field - from both teams - because they were altogether occupying about four square feet of field space! They just shuffle around in a big bunch chasing the ball. And twice the game was stopped because a little boy fell down and started crying. I can't explain why I find all of this absolutely adorable.

Speaking of, here is Troy aspiring to be like his sisters. He is always so disappointed at their practices when he doesn't get to join in. He follows them around with his own little soccer ball and tries to dribble around the little orange cones. Someday, little Troy!