Sonja Gets Wet and Dave Goes Shopping

Last Saturday we went to Nora's soccer game.  Just like we do every Saturday this time of year. Even when it rains. Even when it rains so much, and so hard, that we expect to see Noah paddle by. Even when it rains so hard that the parents leave the game as wet as the players.  

And it was brutal!  In every possible sense. In addition to the weather, the girls lost.  More accurately, they got killed.  Something like 50-0.  Okay, that's a slight exaggeration, but that's what it felt like.  Our girls were totally dominated by the other team. 

When the misery game was finally over, I hurried Nora Jane to the car where blankets, towels, and clean, dry clothes were waiting. Once there, I wished I'd packed a dry set for myself. I couldn't believe how wet I was; I was completely soaked!  My jeans were soaked, my shoes were soaked. My jacket was...well, you get it.  So much for taking cover under the "tent."  

While I helped Nora peel off her wet clothes, Dave stayed behind to help the coach dismantle said tent and carry supplies to his car.  And he was in no hurry.  For, unlike me, he had prepared for the weather.  In addition to the soccer chairs and snacks that were loaded into the van before we left home, he also threw in his wide-brimmed blue, rain hat, complete with chin string, a red rain jacket and his rain pants.  The same camo rain pants he wears hunting. The same camo rain pants I had made fun of, as we searched the soggy field for our team,  by claiming they had turned him into that dad.  

To which, he replied, "what do you mean?"

So I continued to tease and replied that "no one wears camo to their kid's soccer game."

He just smiled, gave my purple jacket, jeans, and black vans a once-over, and continued walking all the way to the side-lines.  Where he stayed the entire game!  Facing the weather head on. With all the other smart dads, who had dressed appropriately, albeit colorfully, in a wide array of rain gear, boots, and hats.  But, of course, the joke was on me.  While he was enjoying his relative dryness in the eye of the storm, I was huddled under the tent, struggling to hold on to my coffee cup with one hand and a tent leg with the other, lest a gust of wind come through and blow the whole thing over.  And, all the while, I was getting drenched.

Needless to say, come Sunday morning, I had no desire to leave the house (in the rain!) to go shopping (at Cabela's!) for rain pants! More precisely, hunting rain pants.  

Even Nora didn't want to go. And, for some reason, she likes that store.  So, instead, she and I stayed in bed, for a long time, and read.  (I love that my children are readers) Eventually, after a breakfast of eggs and toast, she moved on to her Littlest Pet Shop collection.   (Unlike the Polly Pockets, these guys aren't going anywhere for a long time. But that's okay.  I don't expect her to give up the farm quite yet.)  So, while she played, I baked a pie and worked on my scarf. And it was a wonderfully warm, dry, and relaxing Sunday.  

And then Dave sent me a picture of a bow and arrow along with a message that read, "should I get this for Nora?"  My first thought was, No. No.  H.E.L.L. NO!  When in the world would we ever add this to our schedule?  But I couldn't say such a thing when he's obviously only thinking about our daughter.  That and  the opportunity to shoot off arrows.  So what I texted back, instead, was,"are you serious?"  Which I then followed with, "No.  That's so sweet, but no. We don't have time for any new hobbies!  But don't forget your pants." I even ended with a smiley face.  

It wasn't until a few minutes later that I realized what I should have said: Would you please pick up a pair for me too?