Farewell to Toes

I must love my 11yo something fierce because the weather we've endured in order to watch him play soccer these two weekends past has been I.N.S.A.N.E. I do not think my toes have ever been quite so frigid. 
I'm going to pause here because I want to make sure I get out in front of this: before you say a word about it, I fully realize that this diatribe sounds so petty and shallow. Standing outside…CHOOSING to stand outside to watch a game be played instead of CHOOSING to be in a warm house or car (both of which I have)…and then complaining about it IS both petty and shallow. I’ll own that. 

Plenty of people in this world have frozen toes much more often and have even lost them due to exposure. I don’t mean to tread so heavily on a real issue for some people…more than anything I would simply like to share a funny story, which is my own self-created drama, because I am so blessed in my own life that I don’t know what real plight is. That being said, here we go:

As you may recall, I very much enjoy watching my 11yo play soccer. And I've withstood high temperatures when we (notice I said “we”…I mean THEY) took water breaks halfway through the halves (some people call those quarters), and we fans were as scantily clad as possible without being indecent. Conjures up an image for you, doesn’t it?

I’ve used an umbrella in the blazing sun and the driving storms.  And that double-layered fleece blanket I made a couple years ago really does its job well, and keeps me from having to wear a bulky coat. Yes, I’m one of those kinds of people…those that you see out in the dead of winter wearing gloves and maybe a hat but no coat. Those are my people. But I digress…

I’ve experienced hard, cold rain and high winds. I’d even braved frosty temperatures. I thought I’d done it all, until last weekend; it was then that our soccer club hosted our own tournament and we braved bitter cold and wind the likes of which I can't ever recall experiencing as a fan.

Last Sunday morning my friend Kris (yes we have the same first name…I haven’t slipped into a third person omniscient voice, nor am I bi-polar), and I showed up for concession stand duty. Part of our club's requirements for the tournament is that everybody works in order to pull off the event. Or you can buy out your spot but we all know that I'm too cheap for that. I'd rather show up at 7:30 on a Sunday morning in the bitter cold, and miss church in order to work concessions and avoid paying $35.

When I lay it out there like that, it kind of sounds bad...but I'll more than likely forget and make the same decision in May; it will be nice and toasty then, which currently sounds quite appealing, but then I will be reminiscing about the cold weather of now. I’m never satisfied…the whole “grass is greener” issue.

So Kris and I showed up on time...early even...for our shifts. No, it's not that we just couldn't contain our excitement about getting in there. We've worked concession duty enough to know that you have to get there early in order to claim the job you want. In case anyone is taking notes, the popcorn machine is easy and so is restocking the cooler and shelves. The last person to arrive always gets stuck on register. And no one wants that…it’s too much pressure. You are always the hold-up in the line and everyone is looking at you. Frankly, I don’t need that kind of stress in my life.

Anyway, we were the first ones there, preparing to lay claim to our spots. We checked in and the girl looked at us and "Oh good! You guys are in the trailer."

"Uhhhh, no we're not. We're in here.” Meaning: ”You’ve GOT to be mistaken. We’re in here where it’s much warmer, relatively speaking, as opposed to out there in that ancient, unheated thing.”  But we’re nice girls and didn’t want to argue about it. I think she understood our meaning without us saying an unkind word. And yet, she didn’t give in.

"No you're out there. "

We made her show us the sheet of assignments. Not that we didn't believe her ...ok we didn't.

The proof was on the schedule. We were technically assigned to concessions, but it was in the “stand alone, no heat, no working percolator so we had to use a tiny 12-cup coffee maker, windows open so you can keep an eye on the Powerade which was in a cooler outside because the trailer is so small that it doesn't fit inside.”…that’s the concession stand we were in.

One other thing about the trailer which may be of interest: The door wouldn't stay latched so we had to ask passers-by to lock us in or unlock the door...whichever one was warranted at the time. I know it sounds silly that we were concerned about the door staying closed but it was the only spot in the trailer where the two of us could stand together and not be directly in the wind.

Most people were understandably confused by our request, especially the locking-in part: “You want me to lock you IN?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Okay…” with a raised eyebrow or maybe a shoulder shrug. 

At one point there was a lull. Actually there were several lulls...we did a rather brisk business of hot chocolate (okay, luke warm chocolate because the other percolator which was to be used for hot water didn’t heat it very quickly…we were a quality operation all the way around.), but for the most part we stood around and tried to keep warm. Mostly Kris and I huddled together in a corner...I was never so thankful to be with someone I knew well enough to huddle up with. Had it been a stranger, I might have still been tempted, but it would have been awkward, to say the least.

Despite the shared body heat, it was still unbelievably cold. And that is an understatement if I ever heard one. Let me explain it this way: You know how a dog shakes his leg when you rub his belly ...that uncontrollable shaking? More than once my right leg spasmed and did the very same thing. It rattled everything on the trailer shelves. I've never felt more classy or in touch with my inner female dog… people, don't send me any messages. We’re all adults here. At least we should be. This is a family-friendly blog, but children shouldn’t be on the Internet unsupervised.

So when our shift was over, we had almost 2 hours before the boys’ next game was scheduled to begin ...so we high-tailed it to her car, flipped in the heated seats and blasted the hot air through all the vents. Once we finally thawed out, it was time to go outside to watch the game. Good-bye toes…no matter how many layers I used to protect you, you were still frozen.

But the whole point of this rambling was to tell you about how much I love my 11yo. I think MY actions speak louder than words, but I do have to share a quote from the object of this little love burst.  As we drove home following the last game (which the boys won, clinching the tournament for their age bracket), my 11yo son was quiet for most of the way. Looking in the rear-view mirror, I saw him looking at his trophy…the largest one he’d ever brought home. He caught my eye and said, “Thank you, Mom, for this week-end.”

“My pleasure, Darling.”  Man, I love that kid.

Editor’s Note: My son had another tournament this week-end as well. Yesterday we experienced sleet….on yes, on November 3…during both games. That was a first and, as I’m sure you can imagine, it was fantastic. Today we had another first for our team: a “Frost Delay”. I’m still not entirely certain what that was all about but it pushed our start time back by about 35 minutes. By the time we started, it wasn’t any warmer, according to the thermometer in the car, but the frost was gone. And the grass was left wet and muddy. It was also fantastic. They didn’t win any championship, they didn’t come home with any trophy, and I didn’t get a “Thank you” either. But I would do it again, nonetheless.