Well, we’re off to a roaring start. My 6 year old has been sick the past two weeks. She started with some congestion the first week of school but developed a full-blown sinus infection, which the doctor did not want to treat until 10 days had passed (read: a week of sleep deprivation for child, mom and dad). She then struggled to knock a fever early in the course of antibiotics. Not a good beginning. She missed four days of school in the process, which meant my husband and I had to juggle changes in a schedule that has not really been established yet. As a result, we still have no rhythm going into the fourth week. The kids seem unsettled still about mom’s new endeavors and I think it’s because of this lack of a settled routine.

My 6 year old wanted to play soccer this year but, due to the illness, has not been to the two practices held thus far. We showed up at the first game, in the drizzle, on Saturday. Just what someone getting over a sinus infection needs: an hour playing soccer in the rain. “Playing�, however, is not really the operative word. When we arrived at the field, there were four other teams finishing up. The chaos of 8 teams of 1st graders and their respective parents/fans/siblings got to my performance anxiety prone child. At first there was outright refusal to participate. Then drama ensued as my husband and I , the coach and her teammates tried to cajole her into playing. The attention fueled the drama which reached a climax when, once prodded onto the field, she stood in the middle crying, the game at a standstill. Lovely.

Thinking of the pile of reading, writing and research assignments back at home on my desk, it was very tempting to just go home. The rain was picking up anyway. But she chose this for herself and I felt a (misguided?) compulsion to teach the meaning of being part of a team. In a moment of parenting brilliance(?), I told her, quite firmly, that if she did not participate without any further tears, she would be spending the afternoon in her room while her sister watched a movie. (Yikes, that sounds harsh as I write it! I mean really, we are talking soccer here, not life or death.) She moped her way over to her teammates, head hanging. But when the lines changed in the game, she played, a smile on her face. The parents of her teammates, who had been enjoying “the show�, commented on how she seemed happy out there and actually was a pretty decent player. Afterwards we headed to the car for PB&J sandwiches, amid endless chatter about how “her� team won, how good “they� were, etc. Ahh…lessons for another day.