Monday, September 28, 2009
Soccer Mom...and Dad.
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 entourage of little heads I could always see through the back window. The sluggish way you all 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 you poor innocent Moms. And just like everything else I have learned since becoming a Mom, this one in particular has taught me that clearly, I know nothing. Not just a little nothing. But a whole lot of nothing. It's quiet refreshing actually knowing nothing humbles me in a way that I have grown quite used too... For a day without humbleness is a day wasted... Or some crap like that.
Anyways, 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 pay back day for me it is here. I officially became a soccer mom on August, 20th when we signed up Evan and Ryan for a soccer youth 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 words and/or statements:
1) There is never and will never be enough film in the camera and getting the perfect shot is more stressful and challenging than watching one of the boys get 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's Evan and Ryan who are perfect. Well that is until Ryan gets his soccer cleats tangled in the net and Evan kicks a goal but into the other teams net. Doesn't matter though I got a great shot of both!!
3) The word "Hustle" is now a part of my every day vocabulary. I like this new word. It's cool, yes I am a dork!
4) And speaking of Dork, that is exactly how I DON'T feel when I jump up and down, scream, yell, praise and chant on the sidelines when either boys gets their feet on or near the ball. Well, okay I feel like a little bit of a dork, but it's goes with the whole Mom thing so nothing new to me.
5) All soccer shorts no matter how well they fit cause wedgies.
So there you have it, my official intro 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's sports related.
Since the boys have been babies Chris has been a 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 and 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. 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? Further more 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 for mine. I take care of boo boo's, bad dreams and a case of the sniffles. I cook, chaperon and chauffeur. I love them in a soul wrenching way, love form 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 cool 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 soon...
And I will get a picture!
Posted by Mary Ickert at 5:09 PM