When I was pregnant with Briton, I used to daydream about what it would be like to have a 5,6,7-year old boy. Would he play basketball like his dad? Love reading like his mom? Would I be the mom who always had the snacks that kids want in the house? Would I drive (gasp!) a minivan and haul my child and a crew of friends to soccer each week? I'm not sure why this image of myself persisted. I should probably blame it on car commercials. Or some kind of commercials. I'm sure it was their fault, somehow.
Of course it never turns out quite the way you imagine. Because before your a parent, no matter how much babysitting or how many little brothers you have encountered in your young life, despite reading every book available about parenting, you really can't ever know what it is to be a parent until you are one.
I could go on and on about this, as I'm sure you can too, if you are a parent (or maybe even if your aren't) but this isn't about parenting,really, it's about soccer.
As it turns out, I'm not much of a soccer mom. I don't really like soccer. I definitely cant tell you an off-sides from a corner kick (Ok, I know what they both are, but I suck at identifying off-sides and I don't know when you have a corner kick and when you throw it in, nor do I really feel the need to know this). Add this general ambivalence to the sport to the fact that neither of my kids have really shown much interest in it and that I was more interested in sleeping in or working on the house than showing up for a game on a Saturday morning and we never really got into the soccer thing.
We are currently heading off to soccer THREE TIMES A WEEK these days. Zero to three. Just like that.
Again, it's a combination of factors. Briton has a sudden interest in the game. We got a chance to put him on a team with an old friend from Charlottesville who lives here as well. There is no house to renovate, in fact there is no house to run around in so being out in the open running off some Saturday morning energy is now a big plus. And there is a regular homeschool soccer time in the middle of the day on Wednesday, just about the time that both Briton and I are getting squirmy. So we have soccer practice through the city on Mondays and soccer at Chelsea Pier on Wednesdays and soccer games in Central Park on Saturdays. It's a lot of soccer. But in a good way, as it turns out. Briton makes friends. I make friends. Will get to stretch his coaches legs a little. Evie gets to try to fall off the back of the bleachers repeatedly. We're all having fun.
The funniest part for me, however, is that, in a round about way, I'm doing the whole soccer carpool thing after all. It just looks a little different. Instead of kids packed in a van, we have this
So after all, I guess I am a soccer mom.
I asked Evie if she wanted to play soccer next year and got a "Ew no!" stare followed by a (dramatic) "I want to DANCE!" So apparently I'm going to be a stage mom too. Oh lordy.