It’s soccer season!

In my memory, soccer season took place in the dregs of winter, under 7′ of snow in the brutal cold.  (My memory likes to exaggerate and leans toward the dramatic.)

My kids’ soccer games take place in September and October, with a few going into November.  Most of the games are quite pleasant, weather-wise.  They’re quite pleasant in most ways, really.   Well, there was a little unpleasantness at the last one, though.

We actually had 2 kids with games at the exact same time, of course at 2 different fields.  Bill took Rae and I took Jadie.  It was a gorgeous Sunday afternoon and I set my little folding camp chair up right next to the bleachers.  The game was well-attended and quite a few people were watching from the bleachers, including one pregnant woman.

She was chit-chatting with another mom sitting near her.  They were talking about kids and pregnancy.  I was only half listening as I read my Kindle watched the game.  The pregnant woman said “My oldest is 16.  By the time this one is born, there will be 17 years between them.”  The other woman replied “My oldest is 22 and my youngest is 4 so there is an 18 year range here.”

Now, I know a mommy competition when I see one, and I thought “Oh-oh-oh – I can WIN this one!”

Not one to back down from a challenge, I smiled and said “My oldest is 29 and my youngest is 8.  Where’s my prize?”  (OK, I didn’t really ask for a prize, but I wore an expression that let them know I expected one.  They didn’t rise to the bait.)

The non-pregnant one who wasn’t me asked the mom-to-be “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” and she replied “Oh, I hope it’s a boy.  I have 2 boys and 1 girl and I like boys SO much better!”  The first one said “Oh, God, I know!”

I won’t lie – I had always envisioned a mixed-gender brood myself.  But I didn’t want a boy (or boys) instead of girls, I just wanted both.  I didn’t want a boy because I thought males were better or easier.  I wanted a boy because I figured it was the best chance to get my lawn mowed when I got old and feeble.  (Ends up girls can mow lawns just as well as boys, so I’m all set there!)

The two women were still going on with all the reasons that boys were a better option than girls.  Not one to back down from a challenge, I interjected “I have 5 daughters.”  I wore the Where’s my prize? expression again but they still didn’t take the hint.

“FIVE girls?” one of them said, a look of horror on her face.  The other one said “Oh, you poor thing.  How’d you manage that?”

I glanced over to the little girl sitting right near us.  Her parents were watching her sister play soccer, but she was following our conversation with keen interest.  I made eye contact with her, then I turned back to the two women.

“I just got lucky.” I said.