Posted by: Barefoot in High Heels on: June 22, 2009
Our first organized team-sport season ended.
Three- and four-year-old soccer. Otherwise known as a pack of preschoolers chasing a ball, without regard to which direction they’re headed.
For 6 practices and games, there was at least one poor child (usually mine) crying at some point or another. The first few weeks for Miss M, it was almost torturous (for her AND us). She would barely move out on that field, and she’d stand there in her pigtails and soccer uniform and cry. It was always a different reason. “My tongue hurts” or “my cousin tackled me” or “My nose is running” or “I’m cold” or “I don’t know how to kick the ball” or “I can’t run as fast as the other kids.”
Now some parents might coddle their little ones, take them home early, or at least let them sit on the sidelines for a while. There were certainly many of those kind who didn’t show up after the first couple of games, not wanting to bother with 3-year-old drama.
And then there were the other parents, forcing the preschoolers out for more torture.
Yep. That was me. But really, it wasn’t demanding and mean like it sounds. Really!
Little Miss M had so much fun the last two or three games. You know why? Because we made her go every week and get out there and play. She is shy, hesitant, cautious, and slow to warm up to new situations. And with 10 other screaming kids, and multiple parents and grandparents as spectators yelling “Kick the ball! Run! No — the OTHER way!” it was too much commotion for her. She got over that hesitancy by the end and even looked as if she were actually enjoying herself. She even kicked the ball a few times during the game!
I’m not sure that she’ll play again — we’ll see if she wants to in the fall. But by forcing (or shall I say gently guiding) her — yes, even at 3 1/2 years old — to try new situations, she’ll build her self-confidence and learn how to better adapt to unfamiliar activities. All we kept telling her was that as long as she tried her best we’d be very proud — she didn’t need to be the fastest runner or score any goals. And you know what? She wasn’t, and she didn’t. But by the end, she tried, she had fun, and she’s so proud of her certificate and her team picture.
And so are we.
Posted by: Barefoot in High Heels on: May 4, 2009
We took a field trip recently. A class of 3-year-olds at a local nature center, with different rooms that correspond to caves, lakes/rivers, and grasslands. Lots of insects, snakes, amphibians, slithery-slimy creatures that’s just right for the preschool set!
But not for some of the moms.
You see, I have this major irrational tiny little fear of spiders.
I’ve gotten much better about the small ones. I even kill some myself (without screaming!), if found trespassing in my humble abode. It’s the large ones I can’t handle. Yes, underneath my calm, rational (ha!) exterior, I DO have a crazy phobia. Arachnophobia.
I blame it on my mother (Thanks, Mom — I know you’ll read this!) who scared me with the Little Miss Muffet horror story. And remember the Brady Bunch episode in Hawaii? You know what I mean . . . terrifying! And this fear is why I haven’t been able to bring myself to watch the Harry Potter movies, either! I LOVED the books, but even reading a few small parts with the spiders, I had to read those areas really quickly to speed right through.
But I digress. Back to the field trip.
I was so proud of my little Miss M, who had no problems holding the slithery snake, picking up bugs, and getting her hands into all the good hands-on learning activities.
But then . . . there was the spider part.
I actually had to look away, and not make a scene. I quietly told the teacher of my fear, so she didn’t think I was crazy to have to stand up and walk to the back of the room. And I stole a quick glance at Miss M . . . she was TOUCHING, or dare I say PETTING a hairy leg of this creature! YIKES!
I’m getting a little bit anxious just thinking about it right now, and hoping I won’t have nightmares. I’m also thinking how I could have made this anecdote much more descriptive, but I’m too afraid!
One of the other moms took pictures, and I have yet to receive them. I won’t bother reminding her, either!
The good thing — and I’m really trying hard — is that I don’t think Miss M is aware of my arachnophobia. I really don’t want her to be, either. And as much as it physically pained me to watch this display of insect-love, I was proud of her. And slightly proud of myself for not passing along this irrational fear to her and making a big deal of it.
Yet.
I mean, I can only fake it so much. But perhaps my willingness for my girls to be exposed to many things and not have their OWN irrational fears will slowly diminish my own. I mean, really — I used to cry in college if someone even mentioned what one friend calls “the S word.” I can even say it now. SPIDERS. See?! Look at me!! I’m almost cured, for God’s sake!
In the meantime, though, I’ll leave the spider-love where it belongs . . . anywhere but near me.