Shane arrived late to his soccer game last Saturday. He was wearing blue jeans and a wet team shirt.
This has been a rough season for reliability.
We missed the first practice at Carrie's request. We missed two more due to Parent-Teacher conferences at my school and another when someone came over to buy the truck. Traffic and Shane dragging his feet made us late to several others and Halloween will probably be rained out.
We've missed several games, as well. Maybe it was three? There was one where we were at the dump for far longer than planned and another where Carrie as anxious and wanted me on property with introducing Nibs to the herd. That was right before Patrick's wedding and I spent much of my time building a spreader. The games we have made it to, we've mostly been late. I haven't been as good with rustling Shane out the door and timing the longer drive. Sometimes the game has started late and it worked out okay, but being late has still annoyed me.
There have been 8 or 9 practices and 7 games, so feel free analyze the stats. We're doing poorly by my calculations and it frustrates me.
That's the backdrop that led into the following story.
I was taking care of something at the barn and asked Shane to get ready for soccer. The short of it is I urged him to hurry and he didn't do squat.
I forget if I checked in on him in between the errands. I know that he was in his room supposed to be getting ready when I went to the kitchen, got a drink, went to the bathroom, and made him a water bottle. I remember feeling ok about the timing. I'd given him ample warning. We'd gotten home late from other errands and being stuck behind a bike rider who ran a stop sign on a windy, narrow, 45 mph road and I had been getting frustrated, but it looked like it would work out.
Until I opened Shane's door to check on him.
He hadn't done squat.
I was mad.
"I can't find my socks," Shane said.
"You mean THOSE?" I pointed to his soccer socks lying on under his bed.
"Oh."
There was no urgency.
This has been a point of contention for a while. You tell Shane to hurry and he acts like he doesn't have a care in the world. The fact that it's happened repeatedly and he acts like he doesn't hear until I raise my voice adds fuel to the fire.
I started to look for Shane's shirt while he put on his socks. It wasn't in his room, so I checked the laundry. There was a load in the washer that I hadn't realized was there. It was damp and had probably been there overnight.
I can't say if I muttered as I sorted the wash and shoved it into the dryer, but I wasn't in the best of moods. I didn't see the shirt, so I ran to our bedroom to see if it got mixed in with our laundry.
Shane finally finished putting on his socks and shin-guards when I was in the laundry room doing a second look through the dryer.
This time, I found the shirt.
It was darker than I expected because it was wet.
It smelled, too.
I had Shane put it on over another shirt, grabbed a spare in case he was chilled at the end, and we were off to the races. The game started in 25 minutes and it was at least a 30 minute drive.
I was frustrated and I said something like "Well, this has been a comedy of errors."
"I'm a comedy of errors," Shane muttered.
"That's a load of bull!"
The vehemence of my reply surprised Shane.
This was not the first time that Shane's tried to do this. It bugs me.
"I never said that and you shouldn't say that! Your mistake was not doing what was asked when asked. The shirt in the dryer? That's not on you. That's on me! Do you hear me saying, 'I'm such a terrible father, because I didn't see that shirt?' Do you? Because that's dumb! Mistakes don't define a person!"
I went on longer than that. Eventually, I pulled out Ephesians 4:29 about how we're expected to say words that build and encourage. Pity parties and insults don't do that.
We had a long drive ahead of us, so we had a good amount of time for quiet and for talking.
"I'm frustrated because I want to be reliable," I said. "I haven't felt reliable this soccer season because ____."
Ironically, we got stuck behind a car who wanted to drive 45 mph in a 55 mph with no way to pass for half the way to the game. I got to point out that it was frustrating, but I'd rather be late than do something dangerous.
We had a good game when we finally did get there. Shane's decided playing keeper is his thing. I think it's great....and it would be fantastic if he actually practiced the position!
I wonder what Shane will remember of our conversation (if anything).
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