I don’t know when the change happened;
I think it came gradually.
At first it was just another place I had to go, another thing on the schedule,
another time as a mom of choosing my kids over me.
It must have happened there on the sidelines, feet digging into the grass blades, as I squinted into the sun to see her living out her greatest newfound passion:
To become a world famous soccer player one day.
Paige had fallen in love with soccer all on her own.
I don’t know the moment that inspired it initially.
She had never mentioned it before, but suddenly, in fifth grade she was talking about it every day.
She would call out before I heard the slam of the screen door,
“I’m going outside to play soccer, OK?”
She would often be outside past nightfall.
There were even a few times when a headlamp was involved;
Just the song of the crickets,
and the sound her ball made.
Before long I noticed her watching old games online, and studying the moves of the players.
She would pause it long enough to practice, try to emulate.
Next she started to learn the teams, and the backstories, and every player’s name.
We got used to the thump of the ball against the side of the house, and we even labeled a scrub brush “Cleats” with a sharpie for cleaning off muddy ones in the sink.
She offered to work to earn a few jerseys.
She wanted to redo her room.
When we saw how soccer had consumed her, we knew what we had to do.
This pandemic-affected kid needed to play for a team!
I started researching them, and marked my calendar for our city’s try-out day.
Overwhelmed often with to-dos, I was nervous about what exactly this new commitment would require of me.
I’d never thought much about being a soccer mom.
It just didn’t feel like me.
My first three daughters had been the princess dress kind, not the kind covered in mud.
I didn’t know where to sign up, or what lists to be on, but I put all I had into finding out,
because she made it clear that, to her, playing soccer was a thing that simply had to be done,
and I want my girls to always know that what matters to them is also what matters to me.
So, on many exhausted evenings, I dragged a chair and water bottles all alone to sit on the grass for two hours for practice.
I ate my dinner out of tupperware bowls beside other parents doing the same, shooing away the yellow jackets that cared nothing about soccer, or about who scored goals.
I learned the names of each girl on the team, and what their strengths and weaknesses were.
I went from simply present, to participant.
I sat up straighter,
held my breath,
learned the rules,
caught the bug.
I don’t know when it happened, but I fell in love, too.
Maybe it was the way the grass smells in the sun of an October evening.
Maybe it was the park sounds, or the dogs that grew familiar,
or just doing something with her that made her flash that certain grin at me.
Maybe it was seeing her eyes look a way that I’ve never seen them, and knowing I had done something to help them look that way.
It became clear right away that she was the best one on her team.
The other parents continually came to me asking if I planned to move her on.
They talked of the select team, the travel team, and the indoor league.
Her coach pulled me aside to offer next steps.
Her headlamp nights out kicking the ball in the dark had formed a well-lit path for her,
and I was right behind her, proudly observing.
I would look up from talking to them to always see she was looking at me.
She wanted to make sure I was watching her always,
make sure I was proud of her, once again, that day;
And even though, when I look at her, I now see the body of a young woman starting to take shape, I could almost hear the little girl voice I miss calling once again,
“Mama! Mama! Look at me!”
Watching her score goal after goal made it clear this was much more for her than a recreational thing.
Her team went on to make it to the top championship game;
A game so intense it had me bent over a fence unable to watch, while from the field I heard her yell out, “Mom, are you OK?”
Yes. I was fine. I was just fully invested now in this game,
pulled in by the tether that forever ties her to me.
Afterwards, one of her teammate’s moms let me know that in their house Paige is known as “The Assassin:”
A fact that brought a smile, knowing that is exactly how she plays.
We just wrapped up her first season of soccer.
I’m sure the first of many, and in watching her grow by playing a team sport,
I realize now that, in her doing it, it has also changed me.
Her passion turned into my passion.
She loved something so much it spread into everything.
“You’re an actual soccer mom now,” she beamed, after watching me jump and holler at her final game. We both smiled at each other, thinking the same thing:
“Kerri Green?! Who would have believed?”
I know she will see many of them, and many new teams,
but I hope that she will always look at grassy sidelines and think of me sitting there when she was 11, and she first started to play, squinting to see her, or shielding myself from the rain,
focused on keeping my eyes on that yellow #7 jersey no matter what came at me.
I hope that no matter how old she gets she can almost still hear me calling out for her,
“Keep going! Don’t hold back! You can take the whole thing!”
I hope she applies that to all of life, and that she uses it to succeed.
I hope she will know how she has inspired me to pursue my own passions,
to push my own body.
I hope one day she sees the way our lives have all changed because of that one year she had
a headlamp, a ball, and the bud of a dream.
I have been a mom long enough to know that I am in the middle of a season now that I will look back on and miss desperately.
One day there will be no more practice to sit through.
One day there will be no more team;
Just a memory of the feel of the grass at my feet, and a yellow jersey I never know if is dirty or clean.
I have to laugh at the way it went from something I had to do,
to something I understand, even love now, and am writing about today,
But I am learning that’s how passion works.
It’s contagious.
When we wildly love something, it cannot be contained.
We challenged ourselves, our schedules, and even switched up some of our home decor.
Because of her, I stretched myself, and in doing so, I feel like my whole shape changed.
From hesitant to more than willing,
From nervous to brave;
And I get it now – The fire.
I got lit by her flame.
Next season there will be no hesitancy when she asks to be signed up to play.
I will do it for her, for me, and
for the love of the game.
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
