Flying from Málaga, Spain to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil with your three kids was not the way you wanted to start your summer. Your husband, Memo Ochoa, was star goalkeeper for the Mexico men's national football team and you were on your way to Brazil for the 2014 World Cup. Your husband had to take the team plane, leaving you to drag your three kids to Brazil by yourself.

"Esperanza stop pulling your brother's hair," you scolded your daughter, pulling her hand out of your son's hair. Your other son was on your hip, giggling at his siblings antics. "Come on, time to get off the plane," you told your kids. You placed your youngest son, Pedro, on the airline seat before strapping your children's backpacks onto their backs, filled with snacks, coloring books, etc.

Grabbing Pedro's car seat, a requirement of the airline, and your own backpack, you lifted Pedro and pushed your children towards the door off the plane. You made it to baggage claim without any problem and grabbed your luggage off the conveyor belt. With two large suitcases, a car seat, and a backpack, you half dragged half pushed your children towards the doors to the outside world. The air was hot and Pedro began to whine. Ricardo, your other son, tried to console the two-year-old.

As Pedro's cries echoed through the airport, you hailed a taxi. The taxi driver graciously moved your luggage into the trunk and you and your family hopped into the taxi. Giving the driver your hotel, you waited for five minutes until he pulled up to the hotel. You tipped him and grabbed a cart from the lobby. Piling your luggage on, which included Pedro and Ricardo who both wanted a ride, you walked into the air conditioned lobby. Grabbing Esperanza's hand, you led your children over to the front desk. The lady behind the desk looked startled at your disheveled appearance before handing you the room key.

Rolling your eyes at the woman, close to losing it, you made your way over to the elevator. You arrived at your room, on a floor strictly for footballers and their families of the World Cup. You opened the door and pushed the cart into the room. Guillermo would be arriving in about two hours, enough time for you to unload the luggage. Dragging the luggage off the cart, you placed your children one of the beds. "Wait right here, don't move. I will be right back," you ordered your children. They nodded.

You turned the TV on to a cartoon which they soon became wrapped up in. You returned the cart and made your way back to the room. Sighing, you laid down on the bed, waiting for Memo to show up. A knock sounded at the door and your children hopped up. "PAPA!" Memo walked through the door and into the room, soon tackled by your children.

"How was the flight?" he asked you, kissing your forehead tenderly.

"These three," you motioned to your children, "found fun in causing a ruckus for the entire plane ride," you stated.

"Why don't we all go down to the pool? A bunch of my teammates are going down soon," Memo replied. Your children chorused agreement. You lugged yourself out of a sleepy trance and dressed your children in their bathing suits. Esperanza and Ricardo could swim, but Pedro could not. Attaching floaties to your youngest son, you went into the bathroom to slip on your swimsuit and cover up. Memo quickly changed before you five walked outside.

The pool was grand and Memo quickly led you over to the other Mexican footballers. You greeted the other WAGs. The boys jumped in, leaving most of the WAGs and children on the pool deck. You sat on the edge and told your children to stay close to the side. Pedro splashed around in the shallow end. Memo took Pedro from you and you went to join the other WAGs in the shade.

"How was the flight?"

"Tiring to no end," you replied, ordering a Pina colada. Sipping the drink, you talked with the other WAGs at the edge of the pool. Not wanting to take a swim quite yet, your plans were ruined by three little devils.

"Mama, come in!" Esperanza called.

"Mama doesn't want to get wet, Anza," you replied.

"Please Mama," Ricardo pleaded. You once again shook your head. Your husband popped out of nowhere and pulled you into the water. You glared at your husband once you resurfaced.

"If I didn't want Mexico to win, you would be dead right now, Memo Ochoa," you hissed. Pulling your now useless cover up, you begrudgingly joined in the fun. You had Pedro swim in between you and Memo. You guys all had fun but after three hours, you were all tired. Lugging your now soaking wet children to the room was easier now that Memo was with you. Pedro fell asleep on the way up to the room as Esperanza and Ricardo leaned on you.

You quickly gave you children a bath before putting them down for a nap. The next day the team started training and their first game rolled around. It was a hard win for Mexico but Memo's debut could not have gone better. You knew your husband was a brilliant goalkeeper but he was absolutely amazing against Cameroon.

Mexico's next game was against Brazil. Sitting amongst the small group of Mexico supporters, you watched the match nervously. Brazil was awarded a corner kick and you grew nervous when you saw the star Brazilian, Neymar waiting in the box for the cross. The ball was kicked straight to Neymar but when the ball was directed towards the goal, your husband leaped and hit the ball away. You gasped and cheered loudly.

The replay appeared on the large screen, showing that it was not a goal. You cheered loudly. More shots were directed at the Mexico goal but none made it past your husband. You gasped whenever a powerful shot entered Mexico's box but smiled whenever your husband prevented a goal. The Brazilian fans seemed to not believe their eyes.

True, they had amazing strikers and shots going into Mexico's box but your husband was better. The match ended 0-0, and your husband was man of the match. You led your children down into the team room where the players emerged from the pitch. "Papa!" Ricardo shouted, running out of your grasp and past the security guards into his father's arms. The Mexico crowd cheered as Memo exited the field with Ricardo in his arms.

After a brief scolding from both you and Memo, you pulled your husband into a tight embrace. "You did so well!" you squealed.

"Do you think they'll sign these?" Memo asked, motioning to the imprints of the football on his abdomen. They were yellow which worried you. Noticing your distress, Memo took your hands in yours. "They were worth it to keep the Mexico fight alive," he winked, before leading you out of the team room.

A.N. Just wanted to say that Ochoa was absolutely amazing during the World Cup! Neuer was also good but I thought Ochoa and Tim Howard were also contenders for the Golden Glove. Too bad Mexico didn't advance further in the World Cup, I was rooting for them!