Powder Puff Dreams

For the first time in all of my kids' middle school/high school careers, we attended a sporting event for the sole purpose of watching one of our own take the field. I've never been envious of the notorious soccer mom running herself ragged to get from one game or event or class to another with all of her Nike-Reebok-Adidas wearing kids in tow, but I have to admit it was rather exciting to descend the concrete steps of those metal bleachers looking for a place to park myself. Equipped with a comfy blanket to sit on, we snatched a spot on the 50-yard line and as luck would have it, a trash-talking grandpa for the opposite team took up space right in front of us. The oldest broke open his motorcycle-riding-backpack that was stuffed with snacks, the husband began a verbal assessment of the opponent, and with the sound of a buzzer, the game was on.

Powder Puff Football.

It's the freshman year of the youngest. In the days leading up to her high school registration, she remarked to her dad that she intended to get the full high school experience. She sent me a text a few weeks ago announcing: I did it, Mom. Signed up for powder puff. What have I gotten myself into? Even as I admonished her for using her phone during school (It's study hall, Mom), I was at the same time cheering her on. You go, girl! 

So for the last week she has been at practice learning about football and taking defensive tactic training from her father. It's all been rather entertaining. She comes home from practice wound up about this sophomore or that senior and the girls who won't do anything because they're afraid of messing up their hair. She insisted we didn't need to be at the game last night because as she put it, We're gonna get killed, Mom.

Which brings me to another point.

Whose bright idea was it to pit the freshmen team against the seniors?

Yep. The senior girls took to the field in a intimidating formation that involved launching diapers and pacifiers and baby bottles at the huddled group of freshmen girls. It was rather sad and funny all at the same time. You don't need the details of the game- the seniors did win, but it was by no means a slaughter as predicted earlier by the daughter. We watched our baby girl take up her defensive stance and slightly prayed, Not the teeth, Lord. Protect the teeth ($5000 worth of orthodontics, you know). She held her own and we cheered them on. Even the trash-talking grandpa became eerily quiet as the clock wound down. When the final buzzer sounded and girls on the field hugged each other (as only girls in football jerseys can do), we gathered up our blanket and snacks and waited for our athlete to make her appearance. The husband leaned over and whispered to me, Well, at least we only had to do this one time.

Nope, I sadly shook my head. We're here tomorrow night, too. Losers play the losers; winners play the winners.

Those sophomores are going down.

Then I'll gladly hang up my soccer mom shoes.

At least till next year.