spring break: for real this time

Olivia's soccer coach sent an email the first weekend of spring break reminding everyone of Monday night's practice.  It also instructed that even though Wednesday and Thursday practices were canceled, “players should get in some quality time working on foot-skills, juggling, and doing the 'Pele series'" (instructional foot skill videos with routines that the girls must practice and 'pass').  

I had to wonder, why “should” they?  Will players from other teams bound ahead and snag our college scholarships while we’re lazying it up chasing easter eggs instead of soccer balls?  Will a week away from drills ruin everyone's chances for the national team?

The coach is a nice guy, but he’s gotten caught up in this whole soccer-industrial-complex thing I dislike so much.  In response to his call for compulsory foot skill drilling over Easter weekend, I only have one thing to say: “Thank God we quit that team!”

Yes, I finally put my money where my mouth is.  The pressures of this team had turned a fun activity into a tedious chore.  By Christmas, Olivia had had enough.  Steve and I agreed. 

I need to remind the manager to take me off the email list, but in the meantime, I haven't really minded being privy to their many obligations.  The information only reinforces our decision, showing me how we have reclaimed our holiday weekends from the grip of those soul-sucking soccer tournaments.  Instead, Olivia participates in synchronized swimming twice a week and happily drops into the ice rink on Saturday mornings for a 30-minute skating lesson.  All fun.

She’s not going to get to the Olympics on that schedule, it's true, but she wasn’t going there anyway, so who cares? 

Ironically, unlike Olivia's U11 team, both Gareth’s nationally ranked club team, and his high school team gave him the entire spring break off—with no mention of independent drills or “optional” practices for kids who were still in town.  

So, freed from Olivia's soccer commitments, we had spring break for real.  No organized sports at all. 

Instead, we did this:

me (3rd from right), steve (unmissable yellow), olivia (pink in front), gareth (2nd from left)
the sign says "Harper's Ferry or Bust"

We rode our bikes 30 miles to Harper’s Ferry with 3 other families, camped for two nights and returned by bike on Saturday. 

How did we get the kids to do it? Olivia likes to bike, so she jumped for joy at the news of our trip.  In typical teen fashion, however, Gareth nearly turned inside out when I broke the news.  Still, I think he has figured out that we give him his freedom and enable his burgeoning social life in exchange for a certain obligatory quota of “family time.”  When he recognizes that an event falls under this rubric, he resigns himself to endure, even while offering dire predictions of eternal misery, and making redundant proclamations like "This is soooo stupid!" 

So we unplugged and set out along the C&O Canal with 16 bicycles, 7 adults, 9 kids, and a lot of determination.  We stayed over in a sort of cheesy KOA campground just outside the town of Harper’s Ferry. That’s ok.  Steve will be the first to tell you, that while a bike seat can for sure do some damage, a little cheese never hurt anybody. 

The place had ping pong, horseshoes, a huge moon-bouncy type trampoline, mini-golf and most importantly, showers.  The beauty of all this stuff:  nothing electric (besides light bulbs), no schedule, very little supervision.  The kids came and went as they pleased, met other kids, played games, roamed the property…chilled--or as Olivia would say, "chillaxed."  The only thing we required of them (aside from asking them to ride their bikes 60 miles!) was that they wash the dishes.  A totally fair camping chore. 

At night, we listened to music, patted ourselves on the back for completing the first leg of our journey, and joked about the many pained "gooches" huddled around the fire (This was a new word for me. I had planned to link to a definition, but when I went searching for one, I found quite a bit of unsavory extraneous material.  So I'll tell you it's a particularly sensitive crotch area just behind what Steve would call "the doodads."  If you decide to google it, be prepared for an as-the-crow-flies diagram of a man or a woman's underside, among other things). 

None of the definitions say so, but if you're not an experienced biker, the gooch can take quite a beating on the first trip out.  Not even that persistant complaint, however, could overshadow that the weekend offered:

No turf.  No referees.  No coaches.  

Just this:

And this:

And this:

I think I am like a lot of other parents: wishing for a slower life, wanting to reduce stressful schedules, hoping to unplug, seeking quiet…accepting that I can’t always make it happen.

So when I do, I savor it.

And despite the litany of pre-trip protests, even Gareth reaped the benefits of the space we put between ourselves and our ridiculous schedules. 

I hope that however you did/do it, you also stole some time for a restful spring break--for real.

in which i pretend not to complain about our xmas trip to florida

I said I would buck up.  Now I can say that I tried--am still trying.  But perhaps I was just a fish out of water?

It pretty much went down like this:

We listened to The Hobbit in the car as we drove.  Nothing makes the time pass like a good book!

Good thing since 14 hours of driving left us still to contend with the scores of cars that swarmed the four Disney exits on I-4 like so many shiny roaches on a dirty kitchen floor.

We avoided the “tournament recommended” hotel with its $35 breakfast and stayed in a house with friends.  Money saved, privacy, our own pool.  It doesn’t get better than that!

Good thing, since the road to our neighborhood looked like a Las Vegas strip with spinning and flashing neon signs that, instead of “Flamingo” and “Riviera,” read “Gift Shop” and “Barbeque Buffet.”   

We took the whole family to SeaWorld for a fun-filled evening of aquatic entertainment.  Featured events included the Manta rollercoaster, the dolphin show, and the shark aquarium.  Gareth and Olivia had a blast!

Good thing since it required a multitude of sharks and dolphins to swim dumbly in the maddening circles of captivity for our amusement.

Olivia got picked out of 30 people to reenact a wand pairing at Olivander’s in Harry Potter’s Wizarding World.  The wand selects the wizard and when one selected Olivia, it made her trip!

Good thing since the wand that selected her cost $30 and I’d already paid $85 for her ticket into the park. 

We arrived at Universal Studios early on the busiest day of the year and lined up for Olivander's before the wait topped 90 minutes.

Good thing since the park reached capacity later that day, creating 2-3 hour lines and the uncomfortable feeling that we belonged to a frenzied mob.

Gareth’s team did well in the tournament.  I watched as he scored the tying goal in a game against an arguably superior team.  As a defender he doesn’t score often, so it was a bonus that I was actually there to bear witness.

Good thing since, well, you know how I feel about soccer tournaments.  A little familial glory can go a long way for an ornery mom like me.

On our last night, we gathered with friends for dinner, grilling Portobello mushrooms, eating out-of-season salad and drinking more than our share of wine.

Good thing since I ate only French fries for dinner the night before (SeaWorld special), a pop tart for breakfast that morning (rushing to beat the crowds at Universal), and butter beer and onion rings for lunch later that day (a la Universal Studios).  A discerning vegetarian has no business foraging in Orlando, FL. Nosiree.

Happily, we spent a lot of time with my brother and his kids, ending the week with the cousins playing together for a rejuvinating afternoon on the beach: the sand between our toes, the breeze in our hair, the bright cool sunshine overhead.   

Good thing. 

soccer mom manifesto

I agree.  But too much fruit can give you diarrhea, and too much cheese can make you constipated.  What does too much soccer do to you? 

I happened upon the Fall Festival while biking this weekend.  Smelling funnel cakes and popcorn, feeling the anticipation of the first crunch of dried leaves and the thump of a good pumpkin, I thought of Olivia, an hour away, running around on the still-green plastic grass of a turf field, smelling the smell of recycled rubber tires—again. 

I confess: I am a soccer heretic.  While I love the actual sport, I resent the all-consuming package, the soccer-industrial complex, if you will: competitive clubs, obsessive coaches, capitalizing merchandisers, and of course, lunatic parents with unresolved sports failures who scream from the sidelines with streaks of crazed spittle running down their intense chins (OK, I got a little carried away).  

The result:  burnt out kids, hijacked childhoods.

Who better to change this than us soccer moms, the slaves to the machine? Thus, I offer a Soccer Mom Manifesto, 8 theses to simplify soccer, nailed here, to the cyber-wall of said soccer-industrial complex.

1.   NO post game “snack” - This is a pain in the neck, which is why everyone buys the easiest (and thus, junkiest) thing possible.  Why give our kids individually wrapped shots of sugar and preservatives just after all that great exercise? 

YES – Oranges at half-time.

2.   NO team pictures – a waste of time and money.

YES - We all have cameras, right? Have a parent take a picture of the team for free and disseminate over email.  We’ve done it—it works.

3.   NO “participant” trophies – Ludicrous waste and bad message!  Gareth tossed all of his at the age of 11 because even his hyper-sentimental sports-loving heart deemed them “meaningless.” 

YES - Provide trophies for actual accomplishments like 1^st place or “most improved”—your kids will be really proud of those.  Ask the coach to say a word about each player’s progress at the end of the year.  

4.   NO end of season parties at paid venues - Ugh! A hyper sweaty soccer team crammed into the local pizza joint eating more junk food.  Parents standing around with nowhere to sit.  More money. If you have multiple kids, these multiple parties pile up! 

YES - Have a party once a year, during the last practice, right on the soccer field.  Let the kids scrimmage unsupervised, or for the younger ones, go to the playground with the coach.  Great fun! 

5.   NO to 3 mandatory practices a week - These rob time from other activities. Coaches should remember that they’re mentoring kids, not soccer robots.  Most if not all of their players will never play in college.    

YES – 1 weekly practice for rec, two for club. If the club coach holds an optional third for flexibility, great.  

6.   NO lengthy warm-ups and post-game talks - With these little tricks, coaches take a 2-2 ½ hour chunk of precious weekend to fulfill a 1 hour game commitment (more when you count the commute).  Besides, too much warm-up is taxing, and the kids hear nothing at game’s end. 

YES – Arrive 30 minutes before the game for a 20 minute warm-up, 5 minute strategy session and 5 minute wiggle room.  And coaches – we heard enough during the game.  We’ll give you 5 minutes to wrap it up so we can get on with our day.

7.   NO team crap - who needs it? Bags, warm-ups, practice shirts, chairs for parents (really?).  A total money grab. 

YES - Save all this rah rah for the high school team when it represents something local and community oriented for a teenager.   

8.   The biggest NO of all: Tournaments! – a farce.  Unless your child is a high school aged player with real hopes for college play, these mind-numbing events are nothing more than fund-raising, club-building, injury inducing, holiday-weekend wrecking, burnout machines. 

YES – Soccer moms, take back your family’s holiday weekends! Go camping, visit a museum, sneak off to the beach, go to a Fall Festival! Stay home and chill—whatever your fam likes to do in addition to soccer. Give your kids a chance to miss "the game."