The soccer game on Saturday began at 9:00 a.m. We were instructed via email to arrive at the field at 8:40 a.m. The coach explained that the game would take place in Puyallup, about thirty minutes from my house.
I grumbled and dragged myself out of bed and arrived at the field only a couple minutes late. We did not see our team. Where was our team?
I double-checked the email and found that the coach was talking about the game NEXT Saturday . . . I misread the email. I wasn’t the only one.
So, we arrived at the actual field where the game was underway (ten minutes from my house). We missed half the game, which was probably just as well since our team is, uh, struggling this year. The girls don’t seem to know the basics of the game (my daughter does, of course) and it’s frustrating to watch the girls play.
Does that make me a bad mom?
Anyway.
Don’t answer that.
Actual Unretouched Photo 
You aren’t the first to do that, nor the last. I’ve sprinted my way across a couple of soccer fields in my time, often dragging a very reluctant soccer player along with me, simply because the instructions were either ambiguous or easily misread.
I’m almost hoping my youngest will opt for competitive poetry or something else that doesn’t have a specific venue or rabid coaches.
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