Back when I was growing up parents showed up to our sporting events carrying...nothing. Okay, since I grew up in Seattle they often carried umbrellas, but that was it. I don't think we even brought gallon-sized sports drinks with extra electrolytes in case someone dehydrated during the brief increments of time we were clumped together, *playing*, on the field. If any photos were taken it was by the *professional* photographer at the end of the season. That was the only proof that we ever played soccer. And yet I remember, as do my teammates, and my parents.
The other day I was at my son's soccer game. Like a good soccer mom I had my collapsible chair, my water, water for each of my children and my husband, snacks, the DSLR camera for *really good* action shots, the pocket digital camera for emergencies and the flip video camera to catch some action sequences. My son loves soccer like I love ice cream - too much is never enough (for those of you old enough to remember, this was also what Billy Idol sneered in the MTV promo ads back in the day, but that's for another post). So there I am snapping away like a mad woman. Shot after beautiful shot of my son playing soccer in the splendid fall weather in all his glory. It's the last game of the season and neither team has scored a goal. Then suddenly the crowd is cheering wildly - our team scored! I lower the camera from my face long enough to ask the other moms, "who scored that goal"? Your son, they answer. I had missed the moment because I was so busy capturing the moment. Perhaps next season I will leave the camera at home and savor the present.