My Perspective As A Hot Mess Soccer Mom

I am considered a soccer mom. I do not consider myself a soccer mom on the basis of the stereotype usually associated with them.

First, I cannot stress enough how much I hate minivans. To be honest, I’m not crazy about SUV’s either. My theory on SUVs is that some parents drive them as a cover up for the minivan. To put my minivan hatred in perspective, if I go to hell, my assigned vehicle will be a white Chrysler Town And Country Minivan for all of eternity.

The second reason I do not fit the stereo type is that I don’t wear obnoxious clothing that says TEAM MOM or a button the size of a dinner plate with my sons soccer pic on my jacket.

Lastly, I don’t feel the need to boast about the 25 Pinterest Crafts I completed over the weekend, turning a toilet paper roll into a spunky little indoor soccer ball.

My Hulk Like Transformation

You’ve heard the saying “dance like no ones watching”? As a mom watching her son play the only sport I take any interest in, I scream like no one is watching. I scream like a mad woman, but not in a derogatory way. I’d like to think of it as I’m simply giving them moral support. On occasion I have been known to scream things like:

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING? TELL YOU WHAT. WHY DON’T YOU ASK THE OTHER TEAM TO WRAP THE BALL UP ALL PRETTY AND PRESENTS IT TO YOU WITH A DELICATE LITTLE BOW BEFORE YOU DECIDE TO ATTACK-THE-BALL!”

Or upon watching the other team get physical with any of my son’s teammates:

“HEY YOU LITTLE JERK, DIAL IT DOWN A NOTCH. YOU CAN’T PULL ON HIS JERSEY THAT WAY!”

When I first began to watch my sons play soccer and my mild manner father-in-law would attend, I would look at him in disbelief on how he went from a Bob Ross to a Bobby Knight, all within 10 minutes. Then as I began to learn the game and gain confidence, I too became a psycho.

REFEREES

There are 3 jobs I will never take willingly and they are in no particular order: school bus driver, telemarketer and a soccer referee. I have seen referees break down on the verge of tears to arguments with the parents and coaches with the addition last week of one ref threatening to remove my mother in law for yelling at one of the opposing team members.

Today was really no different. A 20-something, frumpy young woman lazily saunters onto the field as if she was reffing out of community service. She didn’t want to be there and she sported a matching attitude. At one point the opposing team’s coach screamed at her in broken English. 10 minutes later our coach was screaming at her. Then every few minutes she wouldn’t make a call and one our parents would loose their shit and yell something just loud enough for her to here like “It’s really bad when the parents know more than the officials.”

This leads me into how easy us parents think this whole soccer thing is. I’m guilty of this sometimes. Just today, the following was screamed at various times:

Wake up team! Gawd!

Get the ball!

Don’t wait for the ball!

We just act like it’s sooo easy sometimes and for that, I am officially declaring us occasional ass holes. This leads into my next topic, the parents.

SOCCER PARENTS

Oh my God we are obnoxious. My husband and several of the other dads have been labeled “the dog pound”. This is because they stand, not sit, at the half yard line (is that what it’s called?), coaching and refing the kids, confident they are winning because of their expert advice. They’ve been removed from 2 games. I constantly look at the opposing teams’ parents to see if they have their own dog pound or what I like to call us, spirited parents, and they are calmly sitting in their lawn chairs, at least 2′ back from the line. In contrast, I am .5″ away from the line as are other team moms, while the dog pound keep inching up, sometimes going over the field line.

TODAY’S GAME

So I sit here this fine morning, typing in our hotel room. We have almost 2 hours till the next game. I convinced my husband to stay another night as I scored a 2 bedroom suite for $139 in a brand new hotel. Now he sees how awesome that decision was as we didn’t have to make a 70 mile treack to the fields, just 4.7 miles. I’ll leave you with the soccer shirt I have decided to get for myself. I found it while researching a little for this post.