Soccer Mom

My kid had a soccer game this past Saturday. It was freezing. She was a real trooper and played most of the game, as did all the other girls on the team. It was the last game of the season and her team got whipped.

My husband was the coach for our daughter's team. He was out there on the field, as cold as any of the girls and trying to call the game while the frigid New England November wind had its way with every person on the large open field filled with at least a dozen soccer games.

How do you teach 6 and 7 year olds to relish their wins gracefully and stand their losses just as gracefully? They're no dummies. Don't try to tell them to "just have fun" and, "keep learning from the better players" too many times. It takes one brief look into the face of one mom or dad to understand the affect of a competition's outcome.

Happily, I know that what I'll remember years from now is the image of my husband bending forward with his arms stretched out and beckoning his team to get closer to him so he can give them a few pointers, reminders. My spritely daughter spent almost as much time watching the sky and the neighboring games as she did watching the soccer ball.

When we returned home and were sipping our hot chocolate, tea (hubby) and coffee (me), my husband pulled a small envelope out of his back pocket and opened it while my daughter and I chanted, "What is it?" over and over again. It turned out to be a thank you card from one of the families of a girl on the team. They even included a gift card for a coffee and snack at a local bakery.

Now, whenever I hear the term, "soccer mom" spoken with an accent of disdain, I am reminded of how lucky I am to be one.