Last night was Ryan's first organized soccer practice. Although it was clear from the day I signed her up that I was infinitely more excited about the prospect than she was, she was getting into it and even wanted to kick her new ball around non-stop for about a week after we bought it. When we practiced I told her how good she was, which she is, and I heard her tell her friends on more than one occasion "I'm starting soccer...I'm pretty good." She would cajole Jim into kicking with her at 6:45am in their pajamas in 45 degree weather. She was kicking the ball around the house, practicing how to stop it by putting her foot on top of it. All was going well, so you can see how I was caught off-guard when disaster struck at the practice field last night.
When we arrived there were 4-5 kids there already, cones were set up and it looked like fun. Ryan put on her sweatshirt and ran into the mix. She and I kicked a few balls while more kids arrived. Sammie picked up an orange cone, placed it on her head and ran in circles saying "my hat, my hat." At 5pm sharp, the coach started to gather the 10 or so kids into a circle. Ryan ran over to Sammie, kissed her on the cheek and said "okay, I have to go sweetie. It's time for soccer." She picked up her ball, ran to the coach and sat down on her ball like the other kids. I was patting myself on the back, this was going so smoothly.
After introductions and a few questions from the coach, I tuned out and was talking to some of the other moms. A few minutes later the kids were standing and lining up, laughing and playing. Ryan ran straight to me and grabbed onto my leg with all four of her limbs.
"What happened honey?" I asked her. Two minutes ago she was fine and smiling and now she was holding on to me like someone was threatening to take her away. I thought she was hurt or someone had said something to her. She wouldn't respond, she just shook her head.
I pulled her away and asked again what was wrong. All she could tell me was that she didn't want to do it. I offered to run with her but her eyes welled up and she bit her lip and ran away from me. I was getting mad and told her we would have to leave then. She readily agreed. Recalling various parenting strategies and knowing that she needs to warm up to new things, I decided to give her time. I backed away, continued talking with some of the moms and let her run around, get a snack and watch the other kids.
I got a glimmer of hope when the second drill started since it was simply kicking the ball back and forth with the coach, the same thing she'd been doing in her pajamas and bragging to her friends about. She still wouldn't jump in with the other kids, however, saying "I'm shy" as she looked through the mop of hair partially covering her eyes. I was able to get her to kick the ball to me as we stood next to the coach. I was holding Sammie in one arm, who was cold and eating a turkey sandwich for dinner, while kicking the ball to Ryan. I whispered to the coach to kick one to Ryan after a few minutes because I was sure she was ready to participate now.
"Hey Ryan, here you go" and he kicked the ball gently right to her. She stopped the ball in front of her and stood still, looking at the ground. "Kick it back honey." Nothing. She wouldn't budge. I was mortified. The coach had to walk over there, get the ball and resume the drill with the other kids.
"Ryan come here!" I told her. "That was so rude. I can't make you play but you can kick the ball back to your coach. I am so disappointed in you." I walked away, still carrying Sammie. At this point I'm losing control, I'm so frustrated with her unwillingness to try. The visceral reaction is overwhelming and although I know I needed to step back and recognize that she's 4 years old, I couldn't. I walked away with Sammie. Ryan followed. When the third drill started, it was more of the same. She wouldn't even stand near the other kids to watch them. We packed up our bags and headed home.
Once in the car she asked, "Are you still mad at me mom?"
After a deliberate pause to regain my composure I said, "Yes. You need to try things, especially when I'm there and there's nothing to be scared about. If you had tried it and didn't like it, I could understand that but you didn't even try. You just walked away and then you were mean to your coach. I don't understand why you would do that." I used my calmest voice but I was still seething. She apologized and promised to try next week and I apologized for getting so angry.
The funny or ironic thing is that had she refused to try gymnastics or ice skating, I wouldn't have cared. I would have encouraged her and given her time but I would not have yelled or threatened her. But this was soccer - she was refusing soccer! You're outside with friends, the sun is setting, your mom and sister are there, you're chasing a ball, laughing, scoring, defending, whatever. How can you refuse to play soccer when you're 4 years old? It's just not me, I would never have done that, but Ryan's not me (thank god) and hopefully I'll learn that sooner rather than later.
