Today was a normal soccer Saturday. Jack had an early-morning game (they tied). Carter's team played last night (they lost). And Taylor's team played this afternoon.
It was hot. But it was good. I have been waiting for this day for years. Years.
Let me explain. My boys have been participating in soccer since Kindergarten. Each boy. They usually play defense positions (fullback and the occasional goalie, which flips me out). And they are good playing defense. They used to call Taylor "The Wall" because nothing would pass by him.
For part of today's game, Taylor played midfield. Unfortunately, he doesn't have a lot of experience in this position and it makes me nervous for him. Anyway, Taylor's team had the ball down towards their goal, someone passed it to him, and he made a goal. My boy made a goal! Not just a goal. His first goal!
I always thought I would be the loud, cheering mama screaming for my boy when he scored a goal. Today, I couldn't. I cried. I clapped my hands as hard as I could, but I sat there and cried. Tears of pure joy. It was beautiful. Not a word could come out of my mouth (which is a mighty rare occurrence, just ask Joe). I was so happy for him and so proud at the same time.
He didn't notice though, because everyone else was cheering and high-fiving him.
And did I mention? They won the game. It was a good day.