Monday, February 25, 2008
Saturday, I had to take birth certificates to the soccer people so my boys could be officially signed up to play.
Aaron knew exactly where the birth certificates were.
Again people...who are we?
and Aaron knows where things are.
Talk about sanctification.
While standing in line with my official documents, one of the men receiving the birth certificates says to me...
"Would your husband like to coach soccer this year?"
I looked behind me.
There was no one behind me.
He was talking to me.
The me whose husband is Aaron.
Once this sunk in, I started laughing.
I said something like, "Well...no...my husband...he's a musician. We're not really athletic people. Really...you have no idea how big of a deal it is that I'm even standing here signing my sons up to PLAY soccer."
This man seemed unmoved.
So, I added...while trying not to snort..."I don't really know how much my husband knows about soccer."
The birth certificate man said, "He doesn't have to know much. He doesn't even need any experience to do this. We just need coaches."
I could not stop laughing or get out of that place fast enough.
Everyone was wearing wind pants.
The thick concentration of wind pants in such a small area of square footage made me feel weird.
And that many wind pants in one room is noisy.
I came home.
Aaron said, "How did it go signing the boys up for soccer?"
I had been waiting for him to ask me this question.
This was going to be He-sterical.
I had rehearsed it in my head. I knew exactly how this was going to go.
I said, "I took in the birth certificates...oh...and...they want to know if you will coach."
When I rehearsed this comedy scene in my head, right here was where I had written, in parenthesis...
(Aaron starts laughing. Then Heather starts laughing. They have a good laugh together.)
In real life...
So I repeated myself.
He must not have heard me.
I said, "They wanted to know if you (I pointed to him for emphasis, just so we were very clear) want to coach soccer."
All I could think was, "This man knows where stuff is. This man is NOT laughing about coaching soccer. This man is not Aaron. Maybe aliens are real."
That's when, my non-laughing, musical husband, dressed in his emergent church pastor shirt, wearing his coffee shop glasses and his new, grunge, "I read books written by dead people" shoes said words that took my breath away.
"Do they really need coaches?"
"Yes," I said and then thought, "But what does that have to do with anything?"
Aaron said, "I'll coach."
I responded with a confused...
I tried to make it sound like, "You?" as in "You" are so busy and have so much going on in your life. "You?" as in "You" are so great at playing the guitar, and doing so many other wowmazing things.
I didn't want him to think I was saying, "You?" as in, "You?" Aaron? The man that doesn't like sports? The "You" who, even though I have a super-duper imagination, I can NOT imagine doing this...ever? "You?"
This is the man who I convinced to run with me one time. When I would stop to get a drink of water, he would stop and drink his PEPSI. I'm not kidding. PEPSI!
Aaron thought it was very funny how funny I think this is.
Twelve years of marriage and...can I just say I NEVER saw this coming?
So, we emailed the birth certificate man to tell him the good news.
Aaron will coach if they need him.
So, if your child is playing soccer in College Station, (you have until Friday to register) you can request coach Hendrick.
Whew! I'm sorry honey, but I just laughed again.
Last time. I want that to be my last time!
Jenn has warned me that there are "super teams" and "super dumb teams." We'll just tell you right now, in the Hendrick home, we will be perfectly fine to make up a new category..."the superest of super dumb teams."
After I stopped laughing and thought about it...well, really, after Aaron said, "Heather, I know more about soccer than a five year old, AND I can buy Soccer for Dummies AND I have Megan and Kirby to help me" I began to think that Aaron will be the greatest coach ever. He will love the kids, teach them to play, and teach them to be good sports. And, if any of the parents are obsessed with winning, Aaron may do what he's always done when faced with tricky human situations, where some sort of reprimand is needed...he will probably moon* the winning-addicted parents.
As coach's wife, my first order of business will be to make up the thing that teams say while in the huddle. "On three, everyone says go." That's so lame. How about, "On three, everyone says, word to your mother?" I've heard that one of the main jobs the coaches have is making sure all the kids get to play. Apparently, although this sounds pretty easy, it can get pretty confusing to keep up with what kids have been out on the field. I think, to solve this, we should spray a streak of paint in the hair of every kid going out to play.
I'm getting so excited about this.
Go Coach Hendrick!
How cute are you?
How MIND BOGGLING are you?
Seriously...WHO ARE WE?
He'll do so well...because Aaron is a reader and can learn ANYTHING from books...like how to coach soccer or how to replace our alternator. If that doesn't make you sit down today with your kids and work on their reading skills, I don't know what else will do it.
I'm off to order Aaron this, and some wind pants.
Crud. I laughed again.
*Mooning is not a method of dealing with people problems taught nor condoned at Baptist seminaries.