The Proverbial Soccer Mom

There comes a time when you have to ask yourself if you are the soccer mom that you’ve been warned about.

Are there soccer games in which you have to sit in your vehicle because you will yell too much during a close game and embarrass your child?

Do you honk when your team scores a goal from said vehicle?

Do you change seats at volleyball games when you find yourself sitting next to the opposing crowd?

Do you update your kids with a scouting report of the other team’s players, based on their warm-up?

Does your husband make you do the stats book at baseball games to keep you busy and out of the crowd?

Oh crap. That’s me.

I yell loudly at my kids’ games. I’m that mom yelling “go Assurity” or “block somebody red” at football games. I have bellowed “move your feet” or “serve receive ladies, serve receive” at volleyball games. I’ve also been known to yell “that’s you’re ball” or “Mandy, that’s you” at soccer games. I often lose my voice. I jump up and down when we make a big play. Yes, really. I have caught myself leaving my seat and jumping like a goof. Really.

My husband may be turning into a grumpy old coach, but I’m the proverbial soccer mom. I’m always sporting the folding bag chairs and water bottles for every game. I’ve got the sports sticker on the back of my Traverse. I’m styling with my Assurity t-shirt and giant player button featuring my kids’ smiling face. (Except for the football one. Joe looks totally bad-a** with his glowering stare.)

But I do have my limits. I try to never criticize anyone else’s child or the officials. And I never cheer at the other’s teams’ failings. If I yell anything, it’s to rally my child or to encourage someone else’s child. Anything beyond that crosses a line that I expect everyone at the game to respect. I have no patience for parents who put down someone else on their team or blame the officials when things aren’t going their way.

I expect my kids to do their best. Sometimes I suppose that if I yell louder that will somehow motivate them to work harder or run faster. Sometimes, however, it just results in a bigger eye-roll.

We are rounding the corner to close the football season for Joe and the soccer season for Mandy. Joe’s team is rated third in the B league and Mandy’s soccer team is undefeated. Joe, or Krush, plays left guard as a 6^th grader, playing with mostly 7^th and 8^th graders. In two years he is going to be an awesome lineman for the A team. Mandy splits her time as a defender and an attacker for soccer. The first game of the season she scored the only goal of the game – with her left foot – to bring home the win for the Roos. Mandy’s spirit volleyball team has one win and one loss, with the majority of the season ahead of them. So far, she’s had some incredible serving series and her hits are going down hard. But who can help but brag a little? They are doing awesome. (I can’t help it. The soccer/helicopter mom in me keeps peeking out.)

So if you see me on the sideline, with my hand over my mouth, remember that I am trying to do better. We all are learning that you can’t win every game. You have to be a good sportsman, especially when you lose. And one person can’t be the whole team.

I’ll try to keep the pictures to a minimum. I’ll stay off the field if they get injured (an embarrassment evidently worse than death). And I’ll refrain from yelling “that’s my baby,” when they make a big play. Oh wait. I take that last one back. I may have to be a little trailer park and embarrass my kids a wee bit during the big plays. Baby steps, people. Baby steps.