Soccer and Sideline Parents

It was down to the third quarter of a close game; the score was 0-1. The boys were tired from giving it their all and playing in the hot afternoon sun. Half time was almost over and it was time for a pep talk. Coach huddled the team up and did his best to convince them to dig deep. After all, they were only one point behind the league’s fiercest opponent, and giving up now would mean giving them victory. As coach rattled off their field assignments, he sent the boys out to claim their territory, which they all did with unwavering determination. Except one kid. He was pouting because he didn’t want to play in the position that coach had assigned to him.

He moped onto the field and just before the whistle blew to start the quarter he broke down crying. Now, I understand that he REALLY wanted to play a different position, but part of playing on a team means you play your best, no matter where the coach puts you. This kid defiantly crossed his arms and hung his head in disappointment, tears streaming, as coach pulled him off the field and hustled in a replacement.

The child’s frustration turned into anger as he sat down in protest at the sideline. Coach gave his best “I understand you don’t want to play that position, but that’s where the team needs you” speech but it fell on deaf ears. Instead, he got an earful in return from an eight year old about how much he hates that position, hates soccer and isn’t having fun!

Now, if that were my kid, I wouldn’t have hesitated to pull him aside, calm him down and make him apologize to his coach. After all, what good is he to the team if he refuses to listen to the coach? It was unquestionably a teachable moment.

So I was shocked to see his mom crouch down be side him, comfort him, then proceed to angrily question the coach, “Why isn’t he playing?!”. Coach tried to calmly and patiently (while also trying to coach a game) explain to her that her son had refused to play in the position he was given. Now, let me just say, that I understand as a mother the intense desire to protect your child; to ensure their happiness and rescue them from their frustrations. I GET THAT. But this was one of those important character-building opportunities to teach her son- if not by example- how to deal with life’s disappointments.

Instead of turning to her son and helping him see the value of being part of a team and the importance of listening to the coach, the mom stood up and raised her voice to the coach, and demanding an answer, shouted, “Why can’t he just play in the position he wants to play in?!”. Like son, like mother. Really? That’s what you want to teach your child? Throw a tantrum and get your way. Who cares about the team or the authority of a coach? You’re going to prevent the coach from coaching because you think your son is the only thing that matters right now? What about the other seven kids on the field- including mine- who are tired and playing their hearts out. Take a seat, lady, this is not the time nor the place.

At first I was slightly horrified and really irritated by this situation (can you tell?). After all, the coach is a volunteer, is great with the kids and has done a phenomenal job. (I later made it a point of telling him that). I find it really unfortunate that this woman was teaching her son that when you don’t get your way, throwing a tantrum and disrespecting authority is perfectly acceptable. And then it occurred to me...outside of soccer, SHE is this child’s authority. So, while she may not have recognized it in this soccer moment, I’m sure the day will come (probably after years of therapy) when she realizes that she is, in effect, teaching her son to defy HER. And, suddenly, I found peace with it all.

You Know My Preschoolers Have Older Siblings Because...

My three year old is telling his playground friends “you’re not making good decisions!”

My toddlers know all the characters in Star Wars and Pokemon

My sweet babies sing songs about burping, farting and pooping

My three year old’s vocabulary includes the phrases “that’s stupid”, “I hate that” and “oh, whatever”...used completely out of context

My daughter is trying to shoot the boys and gets mad when they don’t play dead

They insist on wearing backpacks (full of toys) to school like the big kids

They already complain about homework they don’t have

“Ewwww! That’s disgusting (which they can’t really pronounce)!”

And families without older siblings steer clear because of it.  Can't say I blame them.

Parenting the Child that is ME

It’s taken me years to begin to understand how it’s even possible for two people, namely a parent and child, to be so alike in so many ways and there be so much conflict because of it. It defies logic, really.

My oldest was born an old soul. He didn’t even look like a baby when he was an infant, he looked like an old man. He has always been serious, pensive, quiet, an enforcer of rules (notice I don’t say “follower” of rules...), cautious, intense and wise. He’s a very sweet kid, (usually) very good with his younger siblings and is unstoppable (literally) when he puts his mind to something. He is a child any mom would be proud to call hers. But those are his good qualities.

He’s also very stubborn, strong-willed, literal, argumentative, quick tempered and a bit mischieveious. He’s my button pusher. Therein lies the answer to my question. We are a lot alike in many good ways, but MORE alike in the less desirable ways. And whether we mean to or not, and we react to situations in the EXACT. SAME. WAY.

And, just like we as parents swear that we won’t be like our parents, we try in earnest to keep our kids from embodying the things we don’t like about ourselves. Given my son’s propensity to act and talk in much the same (negative) ways, it starts to make sense that my conflicted frustration grows as emotions escalate. And there you have it, it is because we are alike in the wrong ways that our similarities become our differences. Now I have to figure out how to be less like myself, more like the me I want to be and embrace the child that is.

Now, what do I do about the second and third children who have the same problem? I guess the good news is that neither of them is like me.

Preschool 3.0

This is our third (and fourth) go around with preschool and, I have to say, it is a much different experience this time around. It’s not that the school has changed...it’s that I have.

Preschool 1.0 was our bubble. That’s were my son met his friends, and I did too. We had play dates and birthday parties, mom get togethers and frequent coffee visits. I knew every mom’s name and considered all of them friends. By the time my second child started preschool, I had two in preschool (going opposite days), and became even more entrenched in the environment. We would arrive early so the kids could greet their friends, stay late so we could linger on the playground, and I would happily volunteer when needed. I formed a tight knit group of friends with whom I could relate because we had a lot of the same challenges, and for most of us, were experiencing preschool for the first time with our oldest children.

So what’s changed? My world. Our bubble has expanded far beyond those iron preschool gates, and I no longer have the luxury of leisurely coming and going and sacrificing my free time. My time without kids is precious and I am now one of those moms who is arriving just in the nick of time in the morning and is quick to leave after pick up.

It’s not just my schedule that’s changed...looking around the school yard I notice that more moms than not have a baby in their arms and are bonding over sharing the same challenges with similarly aged children like I once did. I am not one of them. I have become the “mom with older kids”. You can tell us because we don’t bring our kids to school in their cutest, cleanest outfit (and mine, who dress themselves, are usually completely mismatched). We don’t rush to our child who may have fallen or stay longer in the classroom because our child is anxious we are leaving. We aren’t packing homemade, organic snacks for our kids and we don’t cringe when we see the paint set out for the kids. It’s school. It’s messy. That’s how they learn. And at least it’s not at my house. I don’t know many of the moms’ names, and the ones I do know I know from bonding over preschool 2.0.

So, while preschool 3.0 has been a different experience, it’s still a meaningful one for me. It’s a valuable reminder of how much I’ve grown, how much more confidence I have now and how much of a better mother I’ve become because of it. And this time around I can focus more on what the experience means to my children, not just me, which makes it more fun for everyone.

Now...where are the finger paints???

Photo: Salvatore Vuono