“Is this game over yet?” I thought (and may have actually said out loud) from underneath an Avengers comforter at my daughter’s first soccer game of the day.
It was 11:00 a.m. and I’d been sitting in the 40 degree Kansas wind for 2 hours already. This week I was actually prepared, I had 2 pairs of pants, 2 pairs of socks, 2 jackets and 1 pair of rain boots. I told the boys to layer up which, to Logan, meant socks with his sandals (eye roll).
I dragged 2 comforters (yes from the boys’ beds), a mat to sit on and cozy chair, and my hot-hot coffee out to the field at 9 a.m. sharp for soccer pictures. I was set to be as warm as possible as I yelled “Go Anya!” at all the wrong times (apparently). We set everything up on the game-side of a 3-pronged tree. This was sure to block some wind.
With a comforter wrapped tight around my body and the boys underneath the other, my toes were still frozen and my face was wind-burned. I watched with shock as my daughter threw off her sweatshirt because she was “hot.” I couldn’t keep my teeth still and here she was all sweaty. “Maybe I should run around?” I thought and stood up, then I quickly quashed that thought and sat back down in my warm blanket. This was no time for cardio.
The soccer game lasted 83 hours longer than the 2 hours I’d planned for and my face hurt. Riley wanted on my lap, then off my lap, then on my lap, then off my lap. The revolving blanket let huge gushes in every few minutes, which made my blanket useless.
Whistle for the 4th quarter, welp. I’m off to the car. Luckily, I parked right on the edge of the field. Anya would understand. It was cold. So cold. So windy.
I enjoyed the 4th quarter. I kicked my boots off. Leaned my seat back. And honked when we scored. I was just as a good of a parent from the car. Better even because I wasn’t cranky. I took a sip of my cold coffee. I didn’t even mind that it was cold. Because I was warm. Toasty warm. Then I cracked a window. It was getting a little hot in there.