New Hat...

I began this post on Saturday, so "today" is really Saturday......so goes my life, 3 days behind!  Enjoy!
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Today I put on a new hat as a mom.  I became a soccer mom.  Let me be honest with you.  I didn't want to be a soccer mom....ever.   I was perfectly content as a baseball mom and a not at all like the crazy tv show dance mom.  But my dear husband played soccer as a kid and when George asked to play soccer, he gave the 10-4.  I knew they were both excited, but this was going to make ME one of THEM.  You know THEM. The proverbial soccer moms. Please do me the service of using your imagination and inserting a horror movie organ fugue here.  If you need help with that, just think of Scooby Doo when the "ghost" is lurking around the corner.  It adds nicely to the dramatic effect.

"They" are the ones that have a sticker collection on the back of their mini-van.   It begins with a stick figure family, complete with pet.  Right next to that, another stick figure family proclaiming their allegiance to Disney by wearing mouse ears.  Next come the activity stickers.  At least 2 for each of the 3.5 kids.  And the school pride stickers.  And the honor roll stickers.  And at least 2 cause of your choice colored ribbon stickers.  And the 13.1 sticker that says, "Look at me.  I do all of this and I run too!"  Gosh, I hate "that" mom. And if the sticker collection is not enough, she hops out of her mini with her perfect mani, designer sweat suit, and rockin' the blue tooth because she has stuff to take care of.   I could go on and on, but you get it, right? You get it because I could, I really could, go on and on and on some more!

And, I am aware that the woman that I present to you is a stereotype.  She doesn't really exist, but she must have at some point because stereotypes must come from SOMEWHERE.  I do not want to be this woman, thus my selfish lack of enthusiasm about the beginning of soccer season.

But I prepare to go to  the first game riding on the wave of my son's enthusiasm.  Their team is the Big Cheetahs.  Their jersey is orange.  Really, orange?  We are a self respecting Texas Aggie family.  It is against my best judgement to embrace orange when it comes to sporting affiliations.  To combat the orange factor, when we picked our number, I tossed out 12 as a suggestion.  Lindsay thought of 13 because it is Taylor Swift's favorite number.  Her argument did not resonate with him like being the 12th Man did, so 12 it was.  I felt better knowing that if he was on an orange team, he would be wearing a number firmly rooted in Aggie Tradition.

I took my camera so I could capture this event on my hard drive for eternity or at least until my hard drive crashes.  Chances of my getting these pictures into a scrapbook are, well, about as likely as snow in July.  I have good intentions, but there are simply not enough hours in the day for me to tackle all the creative endeavors I would like and remain a functional family member.  Did I forget to mention that "soccer mom" is also an avid scrapbooker and has up to date albums for each of her children?  Well, she does.

George was sent out to do the coin toss.  He won.  The game began and I was amazed.  These kids were not terrible.  They were actually pretty good for their age.  I guess most of them had been playing for a while.  They moved the ball well and no one looked like they would rather be playing their DS.  I learned that George is fast.  I have always known that he was quick, but in baseball, as you run to the base alone, you cannot really gauge the speed.  He chased down the ball zoomed around the field.  When he was not a part of the pack, he was jumping up and down in his automatic Tigger bounce fashion waiting for the ball to bust loose and get it.  And then the magic happened............

GOOOOOOOOAAAAAAALLLLLL!  He was so excited.  He threw his arms in the air. I threw my arms in the air.  And then I had the sense to grab my camera and snap away.  I caught this picture just before his friend, who we have known since he was 2 spun George around and gave him a huge hug.  They were both so excited.  And it was at THAT exact moment, not the goal, but the hug, that I had to choke back some tears and swallow some foolish pride and be ashamed that I had denied my child this fun and camaraderie.

Yes, I was wrong.  Wrong, wrong, wrong.  Shame on me!  Don't expect to catch me in a blinged out soccer mom shirt anytime soon, and don't be looking for any brag stickers on the back of my car. But I will concede that kids soccer is a real sport and the game was exciting.  The women I met were extremely nice.  "Soccer Mom" was not there, because as I stated, she doesn't really exist.  This team is amazingly well coached by the  dads and well supported by the moms.  They brought each kid and all the siblings, YES, ALL of the siblings, juice bags, granola bars, and fruit snacks for after the game.  Impressive!  I look forward to the next game and sorting out what kid goes to what family and getting to know them.

I learned in this 45 minutes that I am NOT a soccer mom, or a baseball mom, or a dance mom for that matter.  I am just a mom who is proud of her kids for trying new things and sticking with the ones they love.  I am grateful to my kids for yanking me out of my comfort zone, thus forcing me to grow.  I learned that it is best to not be defined by the activities of my children, but to take the new hats that life hands me and wear them in my own unique way.