Skinned noses and soccer balls

Where did March go? Could someone please call lost and found because I seem to have misplaced it. Oh never mind, I won't complain. Especially since it means spring is finally here, a concept that is still mainly theoretical since I drove through a brief flurry on my way to work.

We have spent this week, regardless of today's chilly weather, enjoying our new neighborhood. We knew that a little boy Clay's age lived next door and we finally got to meet him on Sunday. And then, hooray! Our neighbors on the other side have a little boy Drew's age. It's as if this house was meant for us because it's perfectly sandwiched between built in playmates for my boys.

And for some reason, serendipity smiled on us once again because I remembered JUST IN THE NICK OF TIME that Clay wanted to play soccer this spring. I had no idea where he would do this, since there are many jurisdictions here, but I let my fingers do the walking and lo and behold, I found a website for the local soccer club, and online registration was closing in two hours!

It's scary how quickly I can drop $80. And how easily I'm guilted, for of course, they wanted parent volunteers.

It's even scarier how quickly I volunteer my husband for these things.

So I'm not sure why I was surprised when the team roster came out, and there near the top was Mike's name. As assistant coach. Funny, I could swear I signed him up for website duty. My normally good natured husband was less than amused. "I know nothing about this sport... the best I can do is say: 'Don't use your hands..... Don't use your hands.... DON'T USE YOUR HANDS!'" I tried to assure him that a 4 year old soccer team coaching job is probably more akin to herding cats than building skill sets. He wasn't convinced. "Would you please volunteer yourself next time?" Um...sure?

Clay is thrilled, though. We went up to the local soccer store tonight and picked up his jersey, his soccer ball, socks and shin guards. He wanted to carry it all to the car. Even as he dropped his parcels in the parking lot, the most he would acquiesce to letting me carry was the socks. When I told him I really thought he should let me carry something else he handed me the receipt.

So we made soccer registration by the skin of our nose. Drew has not been so fortunate. The other day we went for a walk, and he took off down our driveway. Before I could catch him, he took a nose dive right on the concrete. The poor little boy now has a healing wound on his nose and upper lip in the shape of Florida. Mike commented that if it was only a little higher, he'd at least look like Gorbachev. I wish I saw the humor in it because it's just painful to look at (not that he seems to mind). I can't quite take my eyes off of it, and by the stares and flinches from the neighbors and the other people at the store, neither can they.