I don’t know exactly how this happened, can’t name the precise moment my reality shifted, but I find there is a truth that I can no longer deny. I am a soccer mom.
It happened in small, seemingly harmless, steps. 1st there was a wedding… years later some kids… years later kids start playing soccer..and then this spring came the minivan. Tonight, I stand here on the sidelines of the soccer field, and realize that…GULP… I have joined the ranks of the soccer moms. Is it official? Is there some sort of secret handshake? Do I get a bumper sticker? The weird thing is, I don’t FEEL any different.
There was a time in the long distant past (early 90’s) when my manic panic pink-haired, tattoo sporting, grunge music loving self would have fallen on the floor in fits of utter hysteria at this idea- and yet, here I stand- at the soccer field. How did this happen? I suspect I cannot possibly be the only one pondering this question, but as I look around I don’t see any other faces sporting my same dazed and confused look.
I feel like yelling “Hey, don’t judge me! I loved Reservoir Dogs and yes, that’s the Pixies you hear playing in my car! I’m still cool, really! Honestly!” but I don’t think that would help my case…. because in fact, I am a mom of a soccer player in a minivan. The facts, as they say, are indisputable.
So, I look at it this way: either try to hide from it, maybe trade vehicles with my husband and schlep the kids around in his car (balancing all the gear precariously on their heads to fit it all in) … or, embrace it. Take them and all their gear to the games with room to spare, cheer them on from the sidelines, and hell, maybe even get one of those goofy stick-family window stickers for the minivan (“vehicular Facebook” I recently saw a friend of mine term them)…
Life is short. I guess I’ll go with “embrace it” and get on with the day. Just please don’t tell my former self, she would just die of embarrassment.