Soccer's Life Lessons

Forget anything I have said in the past that might have resembled a complaint about balls being kicked around in the house. Upon further contemplation, I now hold the sport to a higher regard. In our home, soccer is the cat's pajamas. It has changed my children's lives for the better. Because of the concentration and commitment required in First Born Son's intensive soccer training over the past 6 months, he has developed into a much more focused academic student. And, more recently, The Mr. enrolled Princess Commando in a highly competitive training program. Gone is the girl who would fold on the field- waffling between wanting to play and also wanting to hide on the sidelines. Soccer has given her a new found sense of confidence, dedication and purpose. Certainly soccer has provided my children with more than just an outlet for pent up energy. These are some of the other gifts that soccer has lent our family:

Creativity

Soccer has ignited a spark of creativity in the children. They are constantly devising new games to play with the soccer ball. It always begins the same way. Someone is practicing his/her drills in the living room when an instigator inventive child comes along and swipes the ball transforming the sport into a new game melding dodge ball and an exercise of keep away. They chase each other around the couch for thirty minutes trying to release the ball from the swiper's grip. They implement innovative tactics to weaken the swiper's hold such as enticing The Baby to join in the pursuit as a means of making the swiper more cautious, slowing him down. Invariably, the tactics also involve finding another ball and throwing it at the swiper's head to knock him off balance or to wound him. The rules are vague but the children are quite clever when it comes to changing them on the spot. This game is a delightfully deviceful way to involve the whole family.

Brotherhood

Soccer has also kindled the warm flame of brotherly love. I have not seen this much affection between the boys since....well, never.

Teamwork

The virtue of cooperation that is born of playing league soccer is not left on the field at the end of a good practice or hard fought game. The children weave it into their play time at home as well.

The Thrill of Victory and the Agony of Defeat 

Behold the image below. She did end up weakening the swiper's grip, allowing her to reclaim her ball and make a break for the kitchen. But, sadly, she, like her brothers before her, learned that in life, much like in a game of soccer, that moments of winning can be terribly short lived. And as quickly as you begin to fall into the dangerous distraction of celebrating your small victory- a breakaway, a goal, an idea for a novel social networking web site, etc, someone will come along and snatch your glory from you and leave you to cry in a corner of the kitchen.

Compassion and Resilience

While soccer is not considered a contact sport, vigorous struggles to regain the ball occur and injuries do happen. Recognizing a man down on the field, dropping to one's knee in solidarity while waiting for the verdict from the coach or medic is a solemn and humbling moment which enlivens commiseration even for a player on the opposing team. It is the healing power of that show support and unity which helps bring an injured player back to life and onto his feet- ready to join the game again. And, when all else fails, there is the promise of ice cream to lure one out of her physical pain. Well, maybe not for everyone.

 Here's a snapshot of what it really looks like after dinner in our house.

Have a great weekend everyone!

Gluesticks and Construction Paper, A Return to My Roots

Okay, so the above picture is not an illustration. But it does illustrate what I have been busying myself with the past two days. My dear neighbor and friend, N, got roped into decorating for our children's school's Spooky Chicken BBQ on Friday night. The “Spooky” was added after someone finally realized that the 29^th fell on Halloween weekend and wouldn’t that make a fun theme? A theme that required decorations. Knowing that I am one of those "creative types,” N approached me to see if I had any ideas. I haven't designed anything tangible in a very long time. It sets me into a bit of performance panic when I am asked to fashion something that someone can actually hold in her hands or hang on a wall. As much as I am completely infatuated with digital art, it can tether any form of creativity beyond my Wacom Tablet and Photoshop. I always want to get back to basics- paints and brushes, my Prismacolor and graphite pencils- but I haven’t had the luxury or the allowance to return to the more palpable experience of illustrating that those implements provide. I, also, haven't had many opportunities, since The Baby came to fruition, to volunteer or contribute to my children's schools. I have been feeling guilty about that. Taking on this assignment, was a way to very temporarily ease my regret and to also let me return to my roots as an artist- all the way back to that time in second grade when my construction paper and glue mural of a clown was honored at the city wide elementary school art show at the Buffalo Convention Center.

My mother, the newly retired 1st grade teacher who has been reincarnated as a substitute teacher, has been so benevolent over the years with her left over craft supplies that we could have dedicated one of the children's rooms as a storage locker for craft sticks, construction paper, foam balls, googly eyes, paints, etc. It has come in handy when Princess Commando has company and they've exhausted all roads leading away from boredom. As I never take inventory, I was unaware that all of the “Halloween” colors were missing. N was going to pick up orange paper so that our kids could decorate cut out pumpkins. In the meantime, I needed to make sure that I could crank out something else that could fill in a Halloween tableau on the cafeteria walls. I started the first of the cutouts, very simplistic bats, before Princess Commando arrived home on the big cheese. She was puzzled when she saw the torn up pieces of paper and oddly shaped silhouettes scattered about the dining room table. "Mom, what are you doing?" I had gotten carried away. I was in a kindergarten, paper crafting, muddledness. The Baby was occupied under the dining room table, ripping my scraps into even more minuscule bits. And, because she was quiet, I kept going- cutting out free-form monsters with bulging eyes and bubbly appendages.


I had forgotten how comforting the tactile sensation of holding construction paper between your fingertips is. As is the feel of scissors (I don’t even have grown up scissors, so I used the rounded tip kid cutters) opening and closing along the path of your outline. And the untidiness of it all, the fuzzy fibers of colored paper stuck to your fingertips by the sticky glue, the paper refuse besprinkled about your feet, the crayons and markers littered upon the table, gave me a feeling of abandon I don’t usually enjoy (as I am the one normally cleaning up after someone else’s creative fling). My products were far from noteworthy. But, the experience was cathartic- crawling back into the artistic womb. It’s too bad my mother is retired. I could really use some more construction paper.