Tuesday, April 5, 2011

A Soccer Mom's Confession - And A New Sheriff in Town.

Confession Tuesday: 
I Have judged you in the past... I didn't mean too...  every Mom has their "Ahh haa.." moment from time to time.  This was one of mine...  I would love to hear one of your's.

First, let me clear the air, for most of my late teens and early adult life I judged the so called "Soccer Mom." I admit it... I did. The mini vans, the line up of bobbing little heads visible through the back window. The sluggish way the Mommy drove and the bumper stickers,(or recently the magnet decals). Oh the magnet decals!  Yes I judged! I am very guilty of the evil, evil judgment of these poor innocent Moms.
So here goes, I sincerely apologize to all the Moms I gave dirty looks too, cussed at and judged so wrongly. If you ever thought there would be a payback day for me that moment has now arrived (stop your snickering). I officially became a soccer mom when we signed up Evan and Ryan for a youth soccer league. But I officially "officially" became a soccer Mom when I went to their first game.
I can sum up the experience in a few simple sentences:
1) There is never and will never be enough memory space in the camera and getting the perfect shot is more stressful and challenging than watching either child score a goal.
2) Both boys are without a doubt the most talented kids on the team. Sure, every Mom thinks the same thing about their kids but it is MY precious babies who are perfect. Well that is until Evan does score (but for the other team) and Ryan manages to get his cleats tangled in the soccer net.  This however does not matter since I got a great shot of both!
3) There is a well communicated and fair  rotation of Mom’s who are in charge of bringing the snacks and when one Mom in particular forgets (accidently) to bring that snack you will suffer fierce silent treatment even after you whole heartily attempt to hand out sticks of gum to make up for the blunder. 
5) All soccer shorts, no matter how well they fit, cause wedgies!  And there will be a contest as to whose child can mess with their wedgies the most (not an ideal photo moment).

So there you have it, my official look into to this new world. But now it is here where I need to introduce the husband in this story. Yes, my husband Chris does get left out from time to time in my ventures with the boys. Mainly because to date just about any and all of my extra circular activities have been with me, myself and I. Kindermusick, Gymboree, Art lessons, Play dates, Park dates, Swim dates, oh the list is endless. But here, here the husband enters the picture because a) it's sports related b) other Dads are involved and c) it is sports related.

Since the boys have been babies Chris has always been hands on Dad. He has jumped in when I needed, he has provided for us so I can stay home with them and he never ever judges me when I go for that second glass of wine to help me unwind from a stressful day. But for the most part it has been me as the front runner when it involves activities with the kids that take place outside the house. So we enter new territory here. Daddy is the "go to" guy. Daddy teaches, Daddy shows and Daddy gets them a cool soccer net and super cool new soccer shoes. Daddy pumps them up when they fall during practice and Daddy knows exactly when and where to insert tough love. I for the first time in awhile find myself no long their expert. When another little boy (we will call him Satan Jr.) knocks over Evan or Ryan and the result is tears, I respond by running towards said crying child with arms wide open and my "Mommy is here" speech. However, new rules new coach, new tactic, new sheriff in town. My husband is in charge now so I let him respond (well actually I don't really have a choice since Chris has tied and gagged me to my lawn chair), But there he goes, making his way to the child and within minutes child is up, smiling, wiping grass off of his knee and is back in the game. Chris walks back with a cool and calm swagger and I find myself fascinated... How did he do that? How did he stay so calm? Who is this person, and why is he all the sudden in charge?
Furthermore why doesn't this bother me?
Because when all is said and done he is the right man for the job. Just like I am the right one (and most qualified most of the time) for mine. I take care of boo boo's, bad dreams, crafts that involve endless use of a glue stick and a case of the sniffles. I cook, chaperon, event plan, organize and chauffeur. I love them in a soul wrenching way, love from the inside out, which means that just about anything and everything in my life revolves round them.
Until I realize that not everything has too.
It's actually really, really helpful to realize this and to also realize that Daddy is every bit the soccer Mom that I am.
Because we may differ on our sideline techniques but we agree on one thing:
Satan Jr. must go down...soon....very, very soon...
And I will get a picture!

Hubby with the boys (who are so over mommy and her camera) pose with their trophies after their last game.

1 comment:

  1. Great post-I too am a soccer mom, although I still havent been sold on the whole mini van thing ;)