The term soccer mom has had a bum rap for years. And while my three kids play soccer, making soccer the week's dominating extracurricular activity, I don't define myself as a soccer mom. Whether it be dance, hockey, horseback, or soccer, OUR kids are involved like never before. To be honest, I used to fight it. I tried to deny the intrusions. I failed to be organized or even engaged enough to integrate these activities into our week in any kind of orderly way. In short, I failed the entire family until now.
This year, I kiss my children awake. To be sure, my techniques were less gentle last year. I now rise early to drive my 7th grader to Jazz band rehearsal twice a week. I look forward to soccer games and reach the sidelines in anticipation of the amazing foot skills I will see on the field (instead of fretting over lost time spent there).
I can't really explain these changes. Part of me thinks that I finally evicted my inner child, the little girl who wants to do whatever she wants, on her terms. The next few years are weighted with some hefty responsibilty. I can either wake up and make everyone miserable with my kicking and screaming attitude, or I can rise to meet the challenges of the day.
I can't really explain these changes. Part of me thinks that I finally evicted my inner child, the little girl who wants to do whatever she wants, on her terms. The next few years are weighted with some hefty responsibilty. I can either wake up and make everyone miserable with my kicking and screaming attitude, or I can rise to meet the challenges of the day.
My move to make things run more smoothly was not actually calculated, not seriously anyway. I think I just thought that shifting gears a bit would actually make my life easier and, so far, it has. Just days from my 43rd birthday, you would think I'd have it figured out by now, but I don't.
