The lost shoes…

Exactly how many shoes have you lost out the car window in your life?  Seriously?  I’ve been pondering this for years now…who keeps losing their shoes out their car windows?  Does this happen everywhere, or is it some particular hazard of living in Western New York?  I would have to say it’s a sight almost as common as roadkill around here (which is extremely common).  Today, just in a 1 hour drive, I counted not 1, not 2, not 3, but 4 lonely shoes laying along the roadside- in 4 separate places, mind you, so it’s not like one unfortunate soul lost 2 pairs of shoes at once.  4 different people lost 4 different shoes in 4 different places.  Presumably at 4 different times.  I wonder what they’re doing at the moment their shoes are lost?  Is it some sort of game?  Is it like..an angry teenager thing (eye roll, Mom…you’re like sooooooooooooooooooo annoying…I’m going to throw my shoe out the window to symbolize my teen angst)?  Is it a toddler tantrum thing (Ha HAAA! the childproof window lock is unmanned and now I’m going to throw all the shoes I can reach out the window while my parents are not looking!!!)?  Am I in some sort of danger of losing my shoe (only 1 mind you, because there are never pairs of shoes on the side of the road) if I hit some sort of country road shoe-sucking vortex?  Is that, perhaps, how they end up hanging from powerlines as well? Is it just the result of some hapless packing system in which a person tends to leave just one single shoe precariously perched so that hitting the pothole in the road just right will send it flying into roadside oblivion?

I don’t know.  It’s just weird.

Become what you are

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.

I watch WAY too many horror movies.

That’s what I’m thinking as I sit in the car with the doors locked, watching the 2 very large stray dogs sitting on the other side of the door looking in it at me. The kids are in the backseat commenting on how cute the big doggies are and can’t we get out and play with them?   Meanwhile, visions of CUJO are flashing through my brain…

It’s not that I harbor any particular fear of dogs.  We have one, I’ve always had them.  Generally speaking, I like them a lot.  Just not when they are big, and stray, and in my driveway…in the country… with no one else around…  See where I’m going with this?  Come on, you’ve seen the movie too…

After a minute, they get bored and run off,  so I start unloading the kids…and the dogs are back. So back in the car we go, and there we will sit and wait.  I consider who will laugh the least at me when I call them to come and help… I mean, come on, of course they will laugh.  Perhaps I can carry both of the kids across the yard and to the house at the same time…yeah, that won’t slow me down much.  More scenes from CUJO flash through here…   I call my husband to see how much longer exactly it will be before he heads home (it’s only a 40 minute drive for him, after all), and to my great relief find out that he is already on the way and the wait won’t be long.

So, the kids have their books and toys in the back… we don’t have to wait too long… and I just hang in the car, watching the dogs on the other side of my car door and reminding myself that I really do watch way too many horror movies.  Of course, it was also a little funny when our great hero arrived… and the dogs ran to his car door, and he hesitated too- they were pretty BIG dogs after all.