My Husband Thinks I Cheer Too Loud

The sun warmed my skin. The weather  finally decided it might actually start to feel like summer. I tool off my flip flops and let my toes settle into the grass. Looking down to my left Olivia squints, smiles and looks up at me.

“How’s the blanket? Are you comfy?”

“Yep! Comfy mom!  How much longer until the game is over?”

“It just started Olivia,” I answer.

“Can I go play at the park?” she asks.

“No, we are here to see your sisters soccer game. You need to stay and watch.”

“Finnnneee!!!” she says as if she is practicing being fifteen.

“LET’S GO FRANCINE!!!! GOOOOOO USA!!!!!” I cheer.  “FRANCINE GET THE BALL!!’ GOOD KICK JOHN!!! WHAT A PASS MAGGIE!!! WOOO HOOO!!”

“Sighhhh,” I turn to my right and look at my husband. He looks at the field pretending not to notice I’m looking at him. So I pretend not to notice he’s ignoring me looking at him.

“GOOD TEAMMMMM WORK USA!!!” I root.

“KICK IT TO EMILY…errr  MOLLY,” I shout… oops! Hope no one heard me get the name wrong.

“Sighhhh,” I hear it again.  So I turn and look at my husband.  He  looks at the field pretending not to notice I’m looking at him.

“I wonder how long he’s going to keep this up?” I think.

So I pretend not to notice he’s ignoring me looking at him.

“THAT’S IT FRANCINE.  NICE DEFENCES TEAM USA!  YEEEEEAAAAAH TEAM USA!  WAY TO GOOOOOOO!!!!!!”

“RUN RUN RUN FRANCINE GET THE BALL!!!  GREAT JOB MARK.  GREAT KICK MOLLY,” ooooo I got her name right that time. “GOOOOO USA!!!!” I shout and clap.

“NICE KICK JOHN!  GOOOOOOO JOHN!  GOOOO GOOOO GOOOO! FRANCINE GET  TO THE BALL!”

“Sighhhh,” I hear again!  I turn to my right and look at my husband again.  YEP!  He  looks at the field pretending not to notice I’m looking at him.

“OK! What’s with the sighing?” I say to him.

“Nothing,” he says with a let me pretend it’s nothing but really it’s something smug on his face.

“No really!  What is it!!” I say with a seriously tell me look. “What is it! Tell me.”

“You’re so loud,” he answers honestly.

“Other people cheer to ya know!”

“No they don’t,” he replies like he’s right.

“Yes, they do.  Besides, I like to cheer.  I get excited for the team and well…. I like to cheer for Francine.”

“Sometimes you get the names wrong,” he kindly adds.

“Yeah, hmmmmm ya heard that huh?!  Well I still like to cheer.”

“sigggghhhhhhh,” he replies.

“Should I stop?” I think.  And begin to think some more, “I really don’t want to make him unhappy.  I also don’t want to be annoying or obnoxous.  I REALLY don’t think I cheer THAT much more then anyone else.  Pishaw, he doesn’t know!   Plus, I like cheering for Francine and besides that’s what fans do!  I seriously can’t help myself.”

Then I decided…

“Gooooo Francine!!!  Run, run!  Get up the field,” I whisper.

“Nice kick Marc!  Get it!  Get it!” I whisper again.

“WAYYYYYY TO GO USA!!!!  GREAT DEFENSE!!!!” I cheer proudly.

Looking to my left I smile at Olivia.  “Want to come sit up here with momma?” I smile.

“Sure,” she answers with a shoulder shrug added so it looks like she’ll only enjoy it a bit.

“GOOOOOOO FRANCINE!  RUN RUN!! GET T…” I catch my hubs looking at me out of the corner of my eye.

I smile.

“Olivia, mommy cheers really loud!  If you sit with me mommy be ready for cheering.  Mommy likes to cheer A LOT!”

“Yeah you might go deaf,” my hubs pipes in.

I look at him and smile through grinding teeth.  Olivia looks at me and smiles.

“You might have to cover your ears if you sit with me,” I say looking at her.

“Yeah momma {giggle giggle giggle} you cheer REALLY LOUD!”

Her First Trophy

Francine and I giggled and smiled as we shared chicken nuggets and french fries with “dip” (ketchup).

“Can we sit here?” he asked

Looking up at the familiar voice, “Of course!  Please sit.  There’s plenty of room!” I answer.

Six and seven-year olds giggle in between silly jokes, funny faces and the smiles of being with their teammates.  With stomachs now full it was time to hand out the trophies.  Trophies were accepted with shy smiles as the coaches words filled the air and made each parent and soccer player  proud.  Shiny, star topped trophies awarded, it was time for ice cream.  Giggles and chatter stopped briefly as proud soccer players clutched their trophies in one hand and tried to lick their cones fast enough to keep drips from running down their arms.

“So did Olivia enjoy soccer?” he asked with an eager smile.  “Will she play again?”

I paused in between bites, smiled at him and paused to think…

Fall soccer had been Olivia’s first venture into team sports.  Very quickly she learned that soccer was not the summer park district kick the ball around, play some cutesy games and run a little bit soccer she thought it was.

“I hope my team loses!” she growled to her dad her first game, “I’m not playing!”

Each Saturday morning, each Tuesday night practice brought new fierce and meaningful words.

“I don’t want to play!”

“Who’s idea was it for me to play soccer anyway!”

Each pre-practice shin guard and cleats lace up was joined by growls and more words to ensure our understanding.

“When exactly did I say I wanted to play soccer!”

“I don’t ever remember saying I wanted to play soccer.”

As the weeks of what we thought would be a season of learning fundamentals, hard work, learning the enjoyment that comes from being active and the great fun that comes from being a part of a team became my seven-year olds very first lesson in finishing what she started.

Looking at her coach I smiled some more and continued to think.  Do I lie, tell him she learned so much and had a good season or tell him the truth, hell no not if you payed me a million bucks (ok maybe a million bucks) would I be signing her up for soccer again any time soon or subject myself to ten weeks of torture again.

“No, she’s not going to play soccer again.  She learned that this really isn’t her game.”

Taking a moment to check on Olivia I look over my shoulder.  Her six-inch star topped imitation gold winked a reflection at me.  Her first trophy was not simply one of many that will pack the shelve in her bedroom, this trophy will forever represent a life long lesson that my husband and I hope that will stay with her forever engrained in her character.

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