Tuesday Truths: Confessions of a Soccer Mom

Soccer Mom  life isn't  all snack bags and hair bows

Soccer Mom life isn’t all snack bags and hair bows

A repetitive series on my blog will give a glimpse into the real life of a soccer mom. Some may be funny, some may have you reaching for the phone to call CPS, all will be true.


To start the series off I’ll stay pretty tame-

I do not drive a Mini Van or SUV-

I understand that admitting this in such a public forum may cause the  Soccer Mom authorities to hunt me down and strip me of all Soccer Mom privileges.  They may even exert their power and pull this very blog from my control. Even with the threat of all that I proudly type- I drive a Infiniti G35 and it is fun! It is not the most practical for summer tournaments as the trunk space is limited and the black leather seats get hot enough to bake one’s buns but damn my car is fun to drive. Bonus confession- my darling Infiniti is bumper sticker and cutsie license plate frame free. Please talk me down from the ledge as I have been researching options to slap some Soccer Mom identifier on my ride but have resisted to this point.  Yes, must be strong. Must not give all of my life to the Soccer Mom role.  The car is MY domain. That is if you disregard the ever present chair and umbrella in the cramped quarters of the trunk and large quantity of grass clippings and occasional mud balls on the floor in the back seat. Oh and should you ever get in my car and be hit by a foul odor- that likely identifies the presence of some goalie gloves and shin guards.

I can not French Braid-

My poor daughter.  While her teammates have perfectly executed French braids my girl, if she is lucky, must settle for a couple pig tails that may or may not be evenly distributed on her head.  If it is a bad day Big Daddy throws in a single pony tail and she grabs a head band. Bonus confession- said headband is not likely to match her uniform.  I am a terrible Soccer Mom to my girl.  Personally I keep my hair in a sassy short cut.  Read that as: I can’t style my own hair for shit once it passes my shoulders and I’ve been given this little female human being whose hair I’m suppose to style? God has a sense of humor, clearly.  That said I am trying! When the Boss has enough sit in her I have been practicing.  I will tell you my French braiding skills HAVE improved.  When done they no longer look to have been completed by a blind woman with only 3 fingers.  Yes, progress is being made. Best I can tell I will master this particular skill  when The Boss is going U16 and the last thing she will want is for me to come near here hair.

I once neglected to bring snacks on our assigned day-

This is another one that may result in my Soccer Mom card being pulled.  There was a bit of a miscommunication between Big Daddy and I.  Note- Big Daddy was coaching and I was Team Mom all while Big Daddy was also league president and I helped as treasurer of the boys team. Clearly stated- we had a ton going on.  It was the beginning of the season and we flat out blew it.  I fully realize that snacks may be the only reason some little cherubs pay soccer and I get parents having an upset girl on their hands when there wasn’t a bag stuffed full of sugar pushed there way after their massive 30 minute athletic performance.  What I was not prepared for was the venom from the parents themselves. HOLY SHIT. Yes, I blew it and didn’t have a Capri Sun, twinkie and fishy crackers in a perfectly  decorated baggie for your girl but damn no need to pull our soccer parent credentials right there on the field.  The way I look at it I created an opportunity for you to talk to your daughter about how one does not need to eat a snack after such a short cardio session (bonus confession: I still need to take that to heart myself) or if you wish to go a different route- stop for ice cream on your home.  Seriously, it is a snack bag. Get over it.


There you have it.  The first installment of Tuesday Truths.  So- what confessions do you have?



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