Yes, friends, the day has come. Veeka is on a soccer team and I’ve become a soccer mom. Just last Saturday, I was shrieking from the sidelines: “Nooooooooo, Veeka, don’t just stand there! KICK THE BALL. Not THERE, over THERE.” You get the picture. Afterwards a coach had to console me that most of the girls on the team have been playing three years, so it’s no great surprise that it’s taking awhile for Veeka to catch up.
Being a soccer mom means shivering in cold early-March weather as the season starts in late February here. But, hey, the flowering trees are already blooming, which is a good two weeks earlier than the DC area. A few weekends ago, we went shopping for all the soccer clothing, shoes, the red ball and the sign-up to bring the snacks. Which I am realizing involves at least two kinds of snacks: one salty and the other sweet plus drinks for 8 kids. My turn is April 6. I never played soccer so all this is new to me.
Sitting on the sidelines is not, though, as I had a stupid adventure last Saturday. The person painting my living room knocked on the door and I flew out of bed to answer the door. I went airborne, then fell on my left foot, cracking the fifth metatarsal bone. I fell to the floor shrieking and ended up at the doctor’s, who said the bone was broken. A few days later, the podiatrist gave me this ENORMOUS boot that I have to wear everywhere. So I clunk around the house and around campus with it. The foot is still sore and swollen. The doctor said I should rest and keep it up. Yeah, right. As a single mom with a full-time job? Dream on.