I am a big fan of being there live for major events. There is nothing like feeling the music as well as hearing it when you go to the orchestra. A musical performed on stage with you in the audience has an incredible magic. And the crack of a bat while you're working your mouth around bite of hotdog and sitting on a hard bleacher is pretty much an iconic experience.
And so, when my kids are involved in a sporting event, I like to see it. I like to be engulfed in the wet hugs after a great swim race and swat at mosquitos while giving a thumbs up for a great effort on the soccer field. (Notice that I say effort here. The boys -- all of them -- are still very much learning soccer. And, quite frankly, Tucker is having to learn to play with a cup. But that is probably fodder for another posting.)
However, one broken foot and a large measure of acceptance later, I was unable to be at tonight's soccer game. Keats and Aidan took the field in their blue uniforms which pay homage to Italy, without their mother in her signature pink chair to cheer them on. I hated it. So, in typical girl-fashion, I got on the phone to chat with a very dear friend. And as Scott and I are still very much opposed to even the idea of call waiting, I ignored the beeps as texts came in. Truly, immeshed in my annual typical birthday arrogance, I figured they were simply more well wishes.
Yet when I did get off the phone, what I discovered was a delightful accounting of all I had missed by being forced to sit still with my foot propped higher than my heart. And I am again having to acknowledge that as old-fashioned a girl I may still be about some things, I do appreciate texting. And so, before tonight's memories are lost to my delete all function, I felt I should record them for posterity's sake.
Text 1: These fields smell like the Dead Marshes. The game has not started and all of the kids legs and butts are caked with mud!
Text 2: Mosquitos!!
Text 3: And England scores on the goalie, Aidan. 1 to 0
Text 4: And they scored again. 2-0
Text 5: Now Keats is goalie. Aidan now on offense -- forward.
Text 6: And England scores on Keats. 3-0
Text 7: 4-0 .......sigh.
Text 8: And Keats saves a goal! Woot, woot! The crowd cheers! Keats smiles proudly.
Text 9: Half-time. England 6, Italia 0.
Text 10: Bugs 1, me about 15.
Text 11:Keats dribbles the ball on a breakaway. Runs the length of the field, he shoots -- GOAL!!!!! Score: 6-1
Text 12: Sanka -- are ya dead?*
*Scott, feeling ignored from my lack of response, closed his texting monologue using a homage to a favorite movie from our younger days, Cool Runnings. If you haven't seen it, you're missing out.
And so, when my kids are involved in a sporting event, I like to see it. I like to be engulfed in the wet hugs after a great swim race and swat at mosquitos while giving a thumbs up for a great effort on the soccer field. (Notice that I say effort here. The boys -- all of them -- are still very much learning soccer. And, quite frankly, Tucker is having to learn to play with a cup. But that is probably fodder for another posting.)
However, one broken foot and a large measure of acceptance later, I was unable to be at tonight's soccer game. Keats and Aidan took the field in their blue uniforms which pay homage to Italy, without their mother in her signature pink chair to cheer them on. I hated it. So, in typical girl-fashion, I got on the phone to chat with a very dear friend. And as Scott and I are still very much opposed to even the idea of call waiting, I ignored the beeps as texts came in. Truly, immeshed in my annual typical birthday arrogance, I figured they were simply more well wishes.
Yet when I did get off the phone, what I discovered was a delightful accounting of all I had missed by being forced to sit still with my foot propped higher than my heart. And I am again having to acknowledge that as old-fashioned a girl I may still be about some things, I do appreciate texting. And so, before tonight's memories are lost to my delete all function, I felt I should record them for posterity's sake.
Text 1: These fields smell like the Dead Marshes. The game has not started and all of the kids legs and butts are caked with mud!
Text 2: Mosquitos!!
Text 3: And England scores on the goalie, Aidan. 1 to 0
Text 4: And they scored again. 2-0
Text 5: Now Keats is goalie. Aidan now on offense -- forward.
Text 6: And England scores on Keats. 3-0
Text 7: 4-0 .......sigh.
Text 8: And Keats saves a goal! Woot, woot! The crowd cheers! Keats smiles proudly.
Text 9: Half-time. England 6, Italia 0.
Text 10: Bugs 1, me about 15.
Text 11:Keats dribbles the ball on a breakaway. Runs the length of the field, he shoots -- GOAL!!!!! Score: 6-1
Text 12: Sanka -- are ya dead?*
*Scott, feeling ignored from my lack of response, closed his texting monologue using a homage to a favorite movie from our younger days, Cool Runnings. If you haven't seen it, you're missing out.
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