The author says the World Cup became more meaningful after she became a parent.
Courtesy of the author
It all started with a onesie, as so many parenthood journeys do.The Ipswich Town Tractor Boys gear traveled across the Atlantic before I snuck it onto my then-infant son, just before my husband arrived home. Adorable photos of the drool-covered shirt followed, sent back across the pond to Ipswich, England, the epicenter of my father-in-law's family.It was a reason to connect — one that wouldn't have happened without our family's shared love of country and capturing moments that remind us of one another.The onesie spurred a different reaction when my Belgian grandmother and father saw their pride and joy, the one and only baby wearing the colors of an English football club. "The English?! He should be wearing Red Devil red!" exclaimed my grandmother, with a delivery that bordered on genuine betrayal. Becoming a parent made me see these interactions between family members as long-lasting connections and pivotal memories, not just silly quips at a sporting event.Motherhood changed my perspectiveBy the time of the Women's World Cup later that summer, a lighthearted rivalry had formed (Belgium didn't even qualify that year, but that didn't simmer my family's bubbling pride). My 4'5", 80-pound grandmother had outsize opinions about every decision on the pitch.
