Bye Bye Cast...Hello Soccer Star!

(I don't know what is with the second picture, but I will try and fix it later)

Calli got her cast off on Friday. I don't know who was more excited, her or me. I felt like every time I looked at her arm it was a reminder of the terrible thing that happened to her. It reminded me that, for that one second it happened, I was a terrible mother. That I should have done something to prevent it. Even though I know I couldn't have.

We had to wait around all day Friday because her appointment wasn't until 4:20pm. Finally it was time to go, so we loaded up the car and drove to the doctor's office. They took her back to get x-rays and had us wait in the room. The doctor came in and looked at the x-rays and said her arm was almost healed. As in not completely healed. There was still a very small fracture, but they were going to take her cast off and just give her a brace to wear for the next two weeks.

When Calli had her big cast taken off a few weeks ago, she wasn't scared at all. They put the earmuffs on her to block the loud noise and she just giggled because it tickled. This time was different though. They didn't put the earmuffs on her and I think she was scared of how loud the noise was so she cried while they cut it off. But it went quick and after that they put the brace on her arm and we were good to go. I was initially really disappointed about the brace and her arm not being 100% because she was supposed to start soccer the next day and continue her dance classes the following week. So originally we decided soccer would have to wait for another two weeks. We had just taken a trip to the soccer store nearby to get her a pair of cleats, shorts, socks and a PINK ball in anticipation of her playing.

I did a lot of thinking between Friday evening and Saturday morning and decided, really, what harm could come from playing in a soccer game? Sure she could fall, but she can fall tripping over toys in the house or getting in the car. She could fall out of bed or slam her arm in the door. There are a whole list of ways she could hurt her arm that had nothing to do with playing soccer. And how competitive and physical were a bunch of three-year-olds really going to be? So at about 11am on Saturday morning I dressed her in her purple jersey and socks, black shorts, and cleats, threw her hair in a ponytail and we all headed out the door to make her 12pm game.

It was so amazing to see my daughter play in her first soccer game. For those that know me, you know that I love soccer. I played for the first time when I was four years old and continued to play, mostly competitively, for eleven more years. I tore my ACL and some cartilage in my left knee playing in a soccer game when I was fifteen and that did it for me. After the surgery and long, sometimes hard, rehabilitation I had lost the desire to go back to soccer. After having a daughter, I was so excited to think of her future playing (yes a boy would have played too, but having a mini me play soccer is so much better!). So I knew that I would live vicariously through her in the years to come. I couldn't wait for her to get older and play soccer. We have kicked the ball around in the backyard and of course she is awesome, it's in her genes.

So watching that first game of hers was really special to me. Even though she didn't do much and got a bit bored (she told us toward the end that she wanted to go home! We convinced her to stay and she said "okay, one more time!") I still loved every minute of it. I can't believe how big a difference there is between a three and four-year-old playing soccer though. I think if I had known I would have waited to sign her up next year, when she can play in the city leagues (we just play through the YMCA now since they are the only ones who offer the program for three-year-olds).

Who knows? Maybe this Saturday she will surprise us and score her first goal!