Decided to start Jett with tennis lessons, thinking he would be a natural. Tennis is not natural- not to JettBoy. He is cute as a button, but he talks from the time he sets on the court until he steps off. He doesn't listen to racket placement, or fast feat, or how to aim. He hasn't grasped a lot of watching the ball or the hand eye coordination, but each week we go back and we try. He comes to the car smiling and hopefully one day, it will all come together.
I have loved taking Jett to the pumpkins since he was born. I love each year planning his outfit and plotting out a time to get him picked up changed and there. I'm a planner. I can't help it. I can't stand when I don't have a plan. This year I have been worried about just about anything other than a plan for the pumpkins.
By most days near the end of September I have an awareness of when the pumpkins will be delivered and when we will get to them. This year is was not on my short list. Our afternoons are spent getting to Pontotoc for a lesson, a practice, or church. My weekends have had weddings, parties, or house work. And after commuting to and from Oxford each day for seven years, sometimes the last place I want to be on a weekend is Oxford. But this past week Cullen was going to have to work for soccer selling programs so I grabbed mom and we braved game day in Oxford for the sake of the pumpkins.
There was virtually no traffic on the square, parking was prime and I bribed mom with lunch somewhere she had never been-AJAX. Jett mandated he would not be eating there and if we could just get him some ice cream he would be fine.
Full on ice cream we trekked to see Mr. Faulkner and Jett had his traditional picture with the phone booth. We made it home with no nap and before Cullen made it home from the game. It was a great Saturday in Oxford.
I've never had dreams of being a soccer mom. It's a cold season. It's not a life sport. I have a hundred excuses as to why, but it has never been a priority on my top 100 things I want to be when I grow up. I knew on Jett's first birthday when he was gifted a soccer ball by his Aunt Faren it was my destiny. Jett opened that ball and as it hit the ground his newly walking legs walked right over and as if he had been schooled in the ways of soccer for months prior to his mobility, he approached the ball and kicked it- not just a small kick but like a legit, I know what I'm doing kick. The grandparents were in awe. Cullen was bursting with pride. I assessed all McCarty pottery in the room, and resigned myself to coming years spent on the soccer field.
Jett's team this year has a few church members on it, so it's more like a Sunday school reunion each week than a meet and greet of newbies.
There are a number of moments in the games when we just yell for someone to kick the ball, and at times it is excruciating watching the ball go down the field the wrong way, but so far Jett is enjoying it. His grandparents come each week to cheer him on.
He is learning teamwork skills, he is learning to work for something. I'm learning to tolerance, how to pack a car for all weather, and that if I have a purse full of candy even I can enjoy being a soccer mom.