Have you ever seen a Rocky movie? You know the story line. He trains for days to fight, thinks he's ready for the fight, gets his ass handed to him in the fight, wins the fight, and leaves you sitting their thinking, "How in the SAM-HELL did he win the fight?" That was me on Saturday.
I spent the morning preparing for the bout. First Micky...bath..check, soccer outfit...check, shin-guards...check, soccer boots...check, soccer ball...check, filled water bottle...check, Father tested and approved hair (simply one ponytail badly pulled back and drifting to one side)...check. Now Coby... bath...check, diaper...check, clothed,,,check, diaper bag with extra diapers, wipes, juice filled sippy cup, snacks, and toys (aka Toddler Apocalyptic Meltdown Survival Bag). I also grabbed a blanket for us to sit on, cause in my mind I was going to get my 2 year old to sit there and not move for an hour while we cheer on Mia Hamm, I mean Micky(cause we all believe our child is the next insert famous icon in insert current activity ). I figured I had it in the bag (literally) and was prepared for this match.
Round 1.......Ding
Time to get the kids loaded in the car, diaper bag in one hand…2 year old in one arm…blanket under one arm…Micky's soccer bag over one shoulder,…and Micky's hand in the free hand that I'm using to open the door. It's truly amazing the abilities you develop as a parent. It’s like having the gadgets of batman, with the strength of superman, with a parental form of spidey senses. Kids are finally loaded (strike that), juggled into the car. I took some damage this round. Dropped the diaper bag...Coby is not cooperating with getting strapped into his seat...Micky's crying wanting to hold her soccer ball to hold all the way there. This comes after I already loaded it into the back of the car, gotten in the driver seat, and fasten my seat belt. I told Micky she was going to have to wait till we got there.
Round 2.........Ding
After retrieving Micky's ball from the back before we left (I caved...don't judge me!). We finally locate the practice fields. Now it's time to put those skills to the test once again...time to unload the car. Suffer even more damage this round... Once again dropped the diaper bag, Coby is bucking to get out my grasp cause he wants to walk across the street, and Micky for some reason can not hold onto her ball to save her life. All this while trying to cross the parking lot. I could have sworn I heard "Chariots of Fire"(Doo doo doo doo dooooooo Doo Doo chahahahahah) playing during this 5 hour journey across the lot that should have taken only 5 minutes. Finally, we compete our galactic quest across the lot. I walk up to the coach and introduce Michaela and myself.
Round 3.........Ding
So we have been re-directed to the correct field now... I re-introduce Michaela and myself to her actual coach. Of course at this point I'm holding in my arms the equivalent of a 50 lbs bear cub that has just smelled honey...Coby wants down. I set him down and turn my attention to Michaela since she is asking to kick the ball back and forth with me before practice starts. We begin to kick the ball back and forth for a bit. I turn to check on little man to find Coby (as if making the final turn in the Kentucky derby) making a dash for the field next to us. This is as issue since THERE WAS GAME IN PROGRESS!!! I chase after him....picture a Budweiser Clydesdale trying to run down sea-biscuit in the final leg. I catch him just before he hits the field....crisis diverted....old man injury forthcoming.
Round 4.........Ding
Now using a cold sippy cup on knee as we are now sitting on the blanket I brought with us. Well, I'm sitting...Coby is being held against his will. I finally give up and turn to reach for the diaper bag to get him a snack thus exposing my flank for a counter. I begin to hear laughter and Micky saying, "No Coby, my soccer practice." Baby Pele has decided he wants to qualify for the Pampers Cup. He has rushed onto he field and is attempting to kick soccer balls into the goal (kid has no fear). I run out and grab him, return to the blanket, and continue to administer toddler anesthesia (applesauce and a sippy). I continue to attempt to watch Micky go through her practice, kicking the ball in the net...she's looking like a pro. Nothing can stop her now.
Round 5..........Ding
Micky has tripped over the ball and fallen on the ground and begins to cry. I pickup Coby and make my way on to the field to find out if she is okay. Is she crying cause she's hurt....no...cause she's embarrassed.....wrong again. "Micky, what's wrong honey?" I ask. "I got muddy", is her reply. I...got...muddy......Women's World Cup here we come. At this point Coby is crying cause he wants to get down and run around AGAIN. That's when I notice all the mud that was on his shoes....is now all over my shirt. I'm officially getting my ass whopped at this point by both kids. Coby is refusing to cooperated re-enacting his own personal rendition of Monster's Inc. Micky is not listening to the coach running around chasing her ball like a cat on a freshly mopped floor...it isn't graceful. My legs are getting weak I'm getting ready to go down for the count. and whistle blows. Coach tells the team to bring it in cause practice is over......I made it.......it's over....I'm still standing...... KRISTA....I DID IT!!!!!!!!!