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Monday, January 14, 2013

How to be a Soccer Mom


How to be a Soccer Mom (or a Basketball Mom, Theatre Mom, Yoga Mom - WTF aren’t you guys in)
Subtitle: Modern parenting 101
SubSubTitle: The basketball game starts at WHAT time!?!? 

Step 1: Coffee. Let me preface this by saying that if you are a new reader to my blog, welcome, and once you have children you no longer own your life. People without kids will get all offended and wonder why you don’t talk to anyone anymore because they do not realize that you are driving to yoga, basketball, ecology club, girl scouts, school festivals at 7 in the DAMN MORNING....

AHHH!!!
Coffee. Sumantra. One Cream. Two Sugars. 
:P 
Let’s see who gets that. 

Step 2: Family calendar on the fridge. Yep, like the mini-van, this was something I swore that I was too cool to do (and yes I own a Dodge Grand Caravan and it’s NOT a van called the Porn Star), but here I am, all calendared. Use dry erase too, because you will have to change it about once week once husband has to work later, the basketball coach changes practice, your daughter has a fever on yoga night but wants to go to the make-up class. Just DO NOT let your eight year old have the marker, or at least my eight year old. He added colorful commentary. Here are some examples:

For 8/19/12 he wrote: Mom is gonna hug Mr. Canadian Hot Pants
For 8/20/12 he wrote: Mom is gonna leave Dad for Michael Shanks
For 9/28/12 he wrote: Mom is old. Laugh at her. 
For 12/24/12 he wrote: SANTA. Boo Yah

Ok, so maybe I put the marker down low because he amuses me. 

Step 3: The transportation. Which brings us to the van. Yes, you’re gonna have to get one or something damn close. You will fight. You will get an SUV that only fits one kid and barely the stroller. Then the sports equipment is next because you will have more bags of equipment than children and it does NOT fit in a cute little Prius. Nor do their friends because you will end up with those boogers too. Never fear. Just PIMP it out. I had a van in college I called the Porn Star which doesn’t exactly work when you are a parent BUT you can do some other fun things with it. Me? I got THESE: 



But of course, right? 

Step 4: Include your mother. Now, women in my family are kind of outspoken anyway, but I find that age just makes it worse. Way worse. My mom was cool as shit anyway, but now that she has NO filter. None. Take her to basketball games, practices and other venture that involve spectators. Here is a sample of her dialog, well, monologue rather. 

“Come on ref! Really? That is CLEARLY a GREEN ball!!” 
“He can’t make any kind of damn calls because he’s too fat to get in between the kids.” 
“Pass the ball! Coach tell them to pass the ball!!” 
“I need to coach this team.”

Have I mentioned how much I love this woman? 


Step 5: Know where the cops hide. Now, without fail you will have to go from the basketball game to theatre day and somehow pick up lunches and snacks in between and stop by the house and the two places are about 45 minutes away from each other.  I have come to the conclusion that cops in my area are not after REAL criminals but instead are after moms who are driving kids to activities. Why? We don’t carry guns. We don’t argue. We sit there, cry, take the ticket and then just pay it rather than go to court (which requires taking off work or a babysitter and makes us have to sit in a small room with scary people). So, know in advance where they hide so you slow down in time and floor it once you are past. 


Step 6: McDonald’s. Don’t judge me. They have milk and apples. Look, my life is so insane that I can’t do that cook all day Sunday mess to pre-pack food for the week. I sleep on Sunday, get up and write fan fiction or blog, or watch TV, or goof off with my friends and family. The Golden Arches is open at 5 a.m. and stays open till nearly midnight. Ergo, you can feed your spawn any time of the day. Just shake up your fast food choice. When you start going to the McDonald’s and they KNOW your six year old wants a mocha decaf McCafe, you might have a problem. 


Step 7: Remember that you're married. If you are lucky some of these activities are drop off, like theatre day, because they want you to be surprised when you come for the parent performance. Try to remember that you’re married because you are going to have to be with this person after the kid’s activities are gone. Go to lunch. Talk. Try to remember what life was like before the kids. Just remember to pick up the kids...

Step 8:  Learn the lingo.  Kids are much smarter than just falling for the “yeah” and “uh huh.” They see right through it.  So, I am, by no means, the expert on this but here are the things I have learned so far in their activities. Please feel free to add more in the comments section. 

Lay-up - Basketball shot from the side of the basket. Cool shot the kids want to make. 
Traveling - Moving the ball without dribbling. A no-no
Improv - Improvisational theatre, when the kids act on the spot in various scenarios. Hilarious. 
Downward Facing Dog - Yoga move and involves the kid being bent over in an A type position. Nothing to do with dogs, so your dearie isn’t gonna want a dog. 


Step 9:  Be prepared. This is more than just a nice Girl Scout motto. This kinda goes with owning the damn van because you need space for all this stuff. You will need a first aide kit with bandaids, Neosporin, Advil, Tylenol, gauze, alcohol swabs, q-tips, medical tape, cast materials, thermometers for every orifice of the body and in Fahrenheit, Celsius and kelvin. You will need general emergency supplies, tissues, toilet paper, plastic bags, extra coats, sweatshirts, sox, underwear, yoga mats, water bottles, a partridge and a pear tree. 

See why you need the damn van? 

Step 10:  Go to a home show.  See, it looks like a perfect soccer mom, family bonding experience and your mom will go and get excited over garden statues and whatnot, but guess what else is there. WINE. LOTS AND LOTS OF WINE. It’s not Spanish, but it’s Virginia wine and that is the BEST in the USA. It’s only $1 per tasting and you’ve got a wallet full of ones. 

Wait, that sounded bad. 
Or did it?
Daniel, hun, ya got a g-string? 

Yeah I went there. 


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