Soccer Mom, I am NOT

Young African American boy playing soccer

This is the moment I have been waiting on for so long.  Do you ladies know what I’m referring to?  I know this may sound sort of silly or unrealistic, but I’ve always wanted to be a soccer mom.  Since having my children, I’ve been looking forward to being THAT mom.  Now when I say soccer mom, I’m actually using it in a general sense (mom to children who participate in sports).

The mom that is at every game, any game.  I had such high aspirations on becoming that mom.  I wanted the minivan to match.  Now that my children are old enough to participate in sports, I couldn’t wait to get started.  Well, my son is in soccer now and…I honestly imagined it would go a lot differently.

So, the last practice my son had went so horribly wrong.  First, we were running a little late.  Sucks majorly because I really didn’t want him to miss any of his practice.  While we were driving, he reminded me that he had left his soccer shirt at home.  Smooth mom, real smooth.  He just got this shirt last week and I’ve already completely forgotten about it.  I was going to turn around, but we would have been late if we had done so.  He was so disappointed and really didn’t want to be the only one without his shirt.  Anyway, we get there and thank goodness he wasn’t the only one who didn’t have his shirt on.  Once we were there, I realized how unprepared I was.  We are now on practice number 5 and I have consistently forgotten to bring a blanket to sit on outside.  Not a huge deal, but it was uncomfortable.  On top of that, because I was in such a rush, I forgot to grab jackets.  The temperature dropped a little so it was really cool outside.  At least if you weren’t running around.  Which, by the way, me and my daughter were not.  So, there we were shivering outside.  During this time, all I can do was hold my daughter and look at the other parents there.  Prepared.  Sitting on their blankets or in chairs eating their snacks.  All I had was a half-eaten bag of kettle chips from Starbucks.  I was lucky to find them, because they were left over from the day before.  I started to come down on myself and I couldn’t shake this thought that every mom was looking at me.  This was not true whatsoever, but it felt undeniable at the moment.

I was not the “soccer” mom I thought I would be.  It seemed that everything I wanted to do was kicked out of balance (no pun intended).  Practice was now done and there was no group of little boys running over to me asking for snacks.  I wasn’t huddled up with the other moms planning to head out for pizza afterwards.  My husband wasn’t chatting it up with the other dads.  In fact, he was at home preparing dinner for the family (sigh…I love him).  Nope, my son was walking toward me a little defeated.  His head was hanging low and he told me, “Mom, soccer was bad.”  In that moment, I knew.  I may not have been a soccer mom, but I was his mom.  Which means nothing else mattered.  Not what I had forgotten to bring, not what I had forgotten to do, and not the view I thought others had of me.

I snuggled him close and I told him we would go home and have dinner and he could play with his iPad.  I’m not going to lie, my confidence was really under attack that day, and by the time I got home I just wanted to go to sleep.  I would love to say that the next day everything was fine and I was in a much better mood, but that wouldn’t be truthful.  I know that I serve a great God who is bigger than any circumstance.  I just really had a problem seeing it during that time.  However, in my time of solitude, I was reminded that I wasn’t created to be the perfect mom for everyone else to see and applaud.  I was the perfect mom for my son in his time of need and I am thankful that I have the opportunity to do it.  God never called us to perfection because we simply cannot do it.  However, we can make sure that we have perfect posture which is always turned toward God.  Even in the toughest situations.  It may be difficult to do at first, but it is something that I believe with prayer and consistency, can be achieved.  Be encouraged moms!

Soccer Mom I am Not