Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Foreign Matters

Sam is my child that is most like me. Pretty, witty, an unusually angelic voice. She gets it all from me. It's true. So, when she says or does something that is beyond the realm of what I would do, it gives me pause. It actually makes me stare at her extra long while I wonder if she is indeed my offspring.

At the age of 8 or 9, she started to veer from the path. She announced one day that she didn't want to take dance classes anymore. Instead, she wanted to play soccer. I bowed my head in shame and then proceeded to ignore her requests. I figured that she must have low blood pressure and oxygen wasn't reaching her brain. No one in their right mind would want to run outside in baggy shorts while you chase a ball. I didn't have the heart to tell her that soccer uniforms are not cute or flattering.

She persisted. I gave in. I reasoned that one round of a community league would cure her. She showed up to her first practice in her cute levi shorts with a ruffle edge. An hour later she told me that she needed soccer shorts and cleats. That one stumped me. I had no earthly idea where one would even look for such items. And cleats? Eew. So unattractive and uncomfortable. I was pretty savvy on where to buy leotards and ballet shoes. Not cleats.

Over the years she has defied logic. Well, what I consider logical. Last year she tried out and made it into an athletics class at school. It's kind of an athletes-in-training all year long. Every week they run/sprint a mile, race the stairs on the bleachers and lift weights in the weight room. She thinks it's fantastic. I look at it as torture.

Before she tried out for this class, I sat her down and had a cold, hard talk. You know, the kind of serious talk you give someone who is making a life altering stupid decision. I had to be blunt. I told her that she would get sweaty EVERY. DAY. Hair does not look pretty when it's sweaty. And, for the love of all that's cute and darling, you. will. have. to. lift. weights! That one I could barely get out. Just saying it made me slightly nauseous.

Last week, Sam was made the manager of the 7th grade girls basketball team. I asked, "So, what exactly will you do as a manager?" She responded, "I get to work out with the team, run the scoreboard, attend all the games, step in if they don't have enough players." Oh good glory.

After school today, the team has their first scrimmage. I don't even know what that word means. Scrim- what? It sounds like some kind of mini sprinkle. One that you would put on mini cupcakes. Whatever it is, she has to travel by bus to get there. I'm sure the team uses this time to bond and coordinate their outfits with their shoes. Sam will fit right in. She is soooo like me.


The Webb Family said...

Well...I'll tell ya..I was so meant to have a girl to dress up, attend dance classes, etc. But, no! I have 3 boys..I feel your pain. They all sweat, they wear cleats, & they don't care if their hair doesn't look good. Still love em' to death though. Your girs are sooo cute!

Anonymous said...

We need to trade our first borns. Madi only wants to play piano, do her hair and work on outfits. I keep trying to get her involved in a sport but it's no use. Alas, the Lord seems to give us what we don't understand. Dang-it! :)

Tillia said...

I love it!

Becky Leland said...

you go Samantha!!!

have you started writing your book?