Soccer - I Still Love My Son

Okay, . . Here is the honest and goodness truth. I do not like sports as much as my husband or my son. Oh, I used to like to watch sports, but that was before I sent my son out to play them. Now, I am trying to be a supportive mother who is praying that my son doesn't get hurt too bad. By the way, do not google soccer injury pictures to put on your blog. They WILL give any mother nightmares.

At Max's soccer game today, they had to stop play three time because Max got hurt. First he got tripped and fell on his arm. Then while trying to shake that one off, he got kicked in the face with the ball. Still spinning from being knocked around, he got the air knocked out of him by the ball being kicked into his stomach. Luckily for his mother the next period of play, he asked his coach if he could sit out. You know Max is hurt, when he asks his coach if he can sit out. Then he went back in as goalie.

I was really glad when we couldn't make the next game later in the afternoon. I can't take two of these games in the same day.

Gregg does not look at injuries the same as I do. Did Max walk off the field on his own? Yes. Was he limping or bleeding? No. Then he is fine. In his eyes, it was a fine day at the soccer field. All the bumps and bruises that Max endured were all part of the game.

Hello? Maybe I want my son to be a whimp.