I have officially become a soccer mom. I registered Sammy for AYSO last Saturday. She starts in August or September, depending on her coach. I’m excited for her to get the opportunity to play on a team and learn a little soccer. It’s a non-competitive environment and each child is guaranteed to play half the game, so I think it will be a good experience for her. Maybe she’ll be the next Mia Hamm.
What I don’t like about it is the whole registration process. With three kids under four, having to do anything by myself is like a three ring circus. Unfortunately, I’m not the ring master, I’m one of the crazy clowns that keeps falling on her face.
I loaded the kids into the SUV (at least I don’t have a soccer mom minivan). I drove to where the registration was supposed to be held, only to find they had moved it. Luckily, Sean had warned me he had seen something about that on the website, because there were no signs or anything at the original location. I drove to the school, which I had also fortuitously visited last week scoping out kindergartens for Sammy. The school was also having a carnival today. And there were no signs indicating where to go for soccer registration versus carnival. I saw some soccer banners, so I parked nearby. Wrong place, it was some game for the carnival.
When I parked, the parking attendant parent (for the carnival) made me park super close to the car next to me (like they were going to overflow or something). He actually made me back out and pull in closer, twice. I could barely get out of my car. Really. By the time I got out, he had someone else parked three inches away from me on the other side. I had to squeeze to get Penny out and in the Bjorn, then squeeze to help the other two out the other side. I almost had to have them climb to the trunk.
Then we walked across the entire carnival. No way we were stopping before registering. We wandered around, no signs. I decided to stop at a table that I assumed was selling tickets for the carnival. I waited my turn and realized I was in a line for soccer. Yay me! Oh, wait, boo. It was the line to pay. I needed to get some green form, in addition to the two volunteer forms, two registration forms, and copy of Sam’s birth certificate I already had.
No signs to direct me (can you tell I thought there should be at least one sign?). I had to go through double doors, past the first hallway, turn left, and I would see it. Ok. Well, I did see it, and there were a bunch of people at a bunch of tables, no signs (really, just grab a piece of paper and a pen and write soccer registration on it, would that be so hard?), so I stood there, trying to figure out where to go. Finally, someone directed me to the far table to start. (Uh, maybe start at the entrance.)
I filled out the green piece of paper, showed it to the lady who told me to go to the next table. At the next table I was handed info about summer soccer camp and directed to the next table. I was asked if I wanted to be a coach. I said no. The guy wrote no on my green piece of paper and sent me to the next table. I was asked if I wanted to be a referee. I said no. The guy wrote no on my green piece of paper and sent me to the next room. We stood in line for twenty minutes with two people ahead of us, waiting for someone to call us over to a computer. While waiting, Ella got antsy and I kept having to run and grab her so she wouldn’t leave the room and Penny started crying. Finally, I sat down at a computer. The lady took my green piece of paper, typed in Sam’s name, and said you’re all set. Go to the next table to pay. I have no idea what took the two people ahead of me twenty minutes to do.
We stood in line to pay for another twenty minutes. Ella and Sammy running in circles with the other kids. Penny crying. An hour and a half after we parked, we finished registering for soccer. We did not stop at the carnival.
We squeezed back into the car. As Ella was sitting down, she said, “Poop!”, and I realized I hadn’t brought any diapers because I hadn’t anticipated it taking that long. Sorry Ella, you just have to sit in it until we get home. Then I pulled Penny out of the Bjorn and realized why she had been crying. She, too, needed a diaper change and was really ripe.
Home we drove, one 4 year old complaining about the smell of poop surrounding her, one crying baby, one toddler repeatedly shouting, “Poop!”, and one, new soccer mom.