Soccer moms

I am sitting here typing while I should be driving myself and my children to Ash Wednesday Mass. I can't remember the last time I missed an AW service. Some find it depressing, but I find it inspiring and deep, a good start to 40 days of inner reflection and self examination. But alas, E has a runny nose and has been sleeping most of the day, and J nearly had an asthma attack after playing outside after school. I think in this case, early bed time and rest are just what the Dr. ordered.

So instead I am sitting here, at my computer while my kids are peaceful, and reflecting on my day yesterday. For some strange reason after all the days emotions I found myself exhausted beyond all belief last night. I was so excited after the sonogram: learning that we were having a baby girl and that she was healthy, watching the video tape with Jacob after school and seeing him get excited, and the soccer practice that marked the beginning of spring soccer season.

In the first few days after bringing J home from the hospital, I didn't have dreams of snakes for pets and mud pies for dessert. My fantasy was much more disturbing. This little boy would thrust me into the glamorous world of the soccer mom: complete with SUV, cell phone, and a body that looked fantastic in short shorts. My mornings would be spent with a personal trainer followed by coffee with co-soccer moms and weekends would be spent on the field, working on my tan and cheering for this little bundle of blue.

Now, 7 1/2 years (and 5 soccer seasons) later I am finding the lifestyle not so glamorous. I like taking J to soccer and watching him grow as an athlete. I appreciate the fact that he gets a lot of exercise since the state of Texas seems to believe taking standardized tests is more important that physical education. I have the SUV, the cell phone, and I even get a little competitive at games . "Come on ref, what are ya blind?" has been known to escape these lips. What I am having a hard time with, besides the looking good in shorts, is the soccer mom sorority.

J has played on several teams since he started at the ripe old age of 4. The moms are always kind to me, but it is so obvious that we have nothing in common. Why is this? Is it because before B I was a single mom? Is it that fact that my husband works weird hours and isn't always there with me being a sideline "coach"? Is it the cellulite on my legs? I don't know what it is but there is some secret handshake I do not posses. I sat at practice, talking to E (I didn't get much response) and feeling quite lonely for the first time in awhile. I actually felt a twinge of sadness and jealousy that rarely enter my thoughts. It was so nice to go home and cuddle up with B and the kids. I felt like a person again.

Of course I will continue to enjoy my son's athletic progress and eagerness to run, but I am really hoping the girls choose something I can work with like ballet!

Wow, I just called them "the girls"! It sounds so official...and so wonderful.