Friday, September 2, 2011

Blogging right now seems, as so many things in my life, like another daunting task hanging over my head that I just can't keep up with. Since I graduated last Spring, I no longer have school as an excuse, which is something I actually did follow through with (even if it was 11 years after high school). But before I begin the dreadful updating process, I want to share yet another example of me falling just short of sub-par - but really, I'm okay with it - I have accepted me for who I am :). My mother-in-law insisted that I share this story on my blog. I think it deserves it's own separate entry, so, if you are in need of a little validation for those times when the disgrace is too much to bare, please read on. On the other hand, if you have never showed up to a class an hour late, having no clue you're late and looking at everyone else like they are all crazy for getting started before it was time, or taken your child to a dance class that is 3 years younger than her, or showed up completely unprepared for a class, meeting, or other important event, or gone to court for a ticket and when asked by the court clerk if you were doing school (meaning defensive driving), replied "no I just graduated", or anything that makes you want to run and hide, then, please do us both a favor and stop reading now.

The meaning of "soccer mom"

It was the first night of baseball, not only of the season, but EVER for Aston and for me as a mom. The coach had called us and explained that we would be meeting Wednesday night to throw the ball around a little and to talk about all of the important things like meetings days and times, parent treat sign-ups, and things like that. He said that we could bring a ball and glove and a bat, if we had one. So, of course, in my inexperienced, amateur mind, I saw this as much like the "meet the teacher night" at school. I didn't need to go and get everything before hand to find out that night that I was all wrong and have to go back and get all new things. I was pretty impressed with myself that we already had a baseball glove and ball, so we brought it. As soon as I got there, I knew something wasn't right. Aston walked up to one of the boys on the team and his glove looked like a miniature nick-nack version of the other boy's glove. And then I looked at the parents. Apparently I totally missed the meeting that said - ' Come with as much stuff as you would take on a camping trip'. Holy COW! Seriously, these people are professional baseball parents. I'm looking around and people had their entire dinners with them, blankets, chairs, umbrellas to shade them, water, Gatorade, snacks, dessert, toys for their other kids, and I cant even recall what else. So here I am, with my purse, and Aston with his toddler's baseball glove and a styrofoam ball. So, I started playing my options through in my head: I can run to the store and buy some serious equipment and then come back prepared, I can hide over by the picnic benches until it's over, or I can just drop him off and leave until it's over - seriously, no one will know we weren't there, accept of course for Aston. Then I realized I was stuck. So, again, I did what anyone would do in the situation. I plopped down in the grass and dug down into the bottom of my purse and found a bag of fruit snacks that were melted together and and pulled it out for my kids. It's pretty sad when I handed those to Jaidyn and you would think I had given her a slice of freshly baked cake. She lit up and tore open the package and she and Roan began yanking the fruit snacks out of their package like they were pulling old gum off of the concrete. It was quite a site. But, all of this wasn't disgrace enough. No, there was a dad sitting next to me, who, he later told me that,had prepared all by himself with all of the amenities listed above - trying to be so kind and offer these poor peasant children some real food. I just wanted to say "I have enough shame, keep your food to yourself". But I didn't. As my ravenous children were shredding apart the fruits snacks like wild animals, he pulled out his ziplock bags of crackers and fruitsnacks (that weren't glued together) and cookies and laid them out for my kids and I to admire and drive the disgrace a little deeper. I made some lame joke about my not being prepared and wasn't really expecting it to be like this. Then I asked him if he had been doing this sports thing for a long time with his kids. Again, he had to drive that knife little deeper and responded "No, my wife told me to be prepared with snacks and drinks, so this is what I did". Why couldn't he have just said "yes"? There are few times in life that I am completely open to being lied to and I will tell you this was one of those times. I don't think I ever understood the meaning of soccer mom until that night. It should actually be called "soccer parents" or even better "I'm more prepared than you - parents". I sat there for the rest of the practice, which by the way took the whole hour, smacking the bugs off of our skin and trying to keep my kids happy while everyone around us sat on their thrones eating, relaxing, and watching their kids. I will never again come to a sports game without my camping and sports-preparedness gear. In fact, the next night we had practice and I will tell you I was prepared. I had my beach chair and a blanket and food to spare. :)