We have officially entered the world of organized sports here at the Burelsons’. I have dreamed of this day for years– waited patiently to load up the car on Saturday mornings, head to the fields and watch my uber-athletic children kick some butt on the soccer field. I even purchased a Volvo, sans-kids, to prepare for this moment. A wagon no less!
The day arrived in mid-September, my dreams came to fruition and I have now been an official soccer mom for eight full weeks. And let me tell you, this whole soccer mom thing is not all it’s cracked up to be. For one, my serene and peaceful Saturday mornings have been stripped away, leaving me cold and bitter and sleepy. Long gone are relaxing mornings on the porch, sipping coffee for hours and staying in my PJs until an embarrassing hour of the day. Saturday mornings have been replaced with a screaming mom and a cranky four-and-a-half-year-old boy.
“Rise and shine!” “Time to get out of bed.”
“Get out of bed!” “NOW!!!”
“Eat your breakfast.” “Come on, take a bite.”
“Just eat what I give you.”
“No, we aren’t going to McDonalds this morning. Or Daylight Donuts.” “Stop talking and just eat.” “And then get dressed.”
“Yes, you have to wear your cleats.”
“I don’t care that a girl on your team has the same ones.”
“No, you cannot wear those shorts. You have to wear your uniform.” “Get in the car.” “Hurry, get in the car, we’re late.” “HURRY!!”
By the time we get in the car and head down the road, I’m completely wound up and stressed and I know this isn’t going to go well. When we get to the soccer fields, I turn into that woman: “soccer mom gone mad.”
The whistle blows and I start yelling. I can’t help it. It’s not like my kid can hear me. And even if he can, he’s not listening. My husband sits there quietly, watching the disaster on the field, and I am in full-blown Bob Knight mode.
“RUN!” “GET THE BALL!” “RUN FASTER!”
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING??” “PUSH HIM!”
“NO, NOT HIM! THE ONE WITH THE BALL!” “BE MEAN!”
“GET UP AND HUSTLE, KID!”
By the end of the first half, the only butt-kicking that has been done is by me. My husband is embarrassed, the other parents are annoyed, my kid is crying and I need a drink. This soccer mom thing is for the birds.
Mimi Burleson lives in Georgetown with her husband and son and is patiently awaiting the arrival of her second little boy, due this November.
