The forecast yesterday morning wasn’t promising.
It looks like it’s going to be raining during game time. There’s not just green areas on that weather radar. There’s yellow and orange blobs mixed in. Great.
As I sat at yesterday’s game with my husband and the other parents around me, I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
Despite the fact that it down-poured for almost the entire 90 minutes of the game.
You can see the rain running off the front of my umbrella in this photo.
Hey, but I wouldn’t miss this for anything.
As parents, this is what we do. We support our children, rain or shine.
But that’s not the real reason I was there sitting in the rain.
I don’t wan’t to miss one single moment of my son’s journey.
And this game was a part of it.
I stayed dry sitting on my bleacher seat, my lap and feet covered with my Neat Sheet, as I sat under my gigantic golf-sized umbrella. I’m not joking when I say four people could comfortably stand under this thing and stay dry.
I also was prepared to put on my full-body rain poncho if need be. (That’s a sight to behold, let me tell you.)
Rain was dripping off the players’ hair, noses, and fingers on the field. For any boy who likes to play in the rain, this would have been a dream come true.
We wrung-out my son’s uniform, warm-up, and bag after the game. When he tipped his shoes upside-down, water ran out. As you can imagine, he was shivering cold in the fifty-degree weather.
Thankfully I packed a full change of clothing, extra shoes, towels, and Neat Sheets. We’ve learned the hard way it’s not fun to sit in wet, cold clothes all the way home.
As we enjoyed dinner together afterwards, I was reminded again why I do what I do–through downpours, and whatever else.
I sat across from my son as he shared his life with his dad and I. About his day. About the game. About the rain. About prom this weekend. About his future. About his chicken wings. He talked, and I soaked in each word and each moment as he did.
Parents, keep doing what you’re doing.
Keep investing your life in your child’s life, no matter how old he or she is.
It was a late night of soccer laundry after arriving home. This morning turf pellets remain in the bottom of our washer and have found their way over most of our laundry room floor.
The umbrellas, shoes and bags have all dried overnight. There isn’t much evidence remaining of yesterday’s rain-soaked game this morning.
Except for the incredible memories made this mom is celebrating and clinging to. And recalling what my son said to me as he hugged me goodnight last night,
“Mom, thank you for coming to my game today.”
I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.