My brother’s words rang through my cell phone and echoed hollowly in my ears for a second.  Then outrage swept up and replaced the echo.

“I’m NOT acting like a soccer mom.  I am acting like a MOM!”  Righteous indignation oozed out of every word.

I was watching my son play his very first soccer game on Saturday.  He was wonderful, of course, and zigged and zagged through the field, dribbling the ball expertly.  Until, that is, “The Incident.”

I was not aware of the exact nature of “The Incident” until after the game.  I simply knew something had occurred.  And whatever it was, it had royally ticked off my precious angel boy.  He turned into “ornery not-so-angel” boy.  He stood on the field.  He ignored his coach’s repeated cries of, “TJ!  Run down the field!  Come on, buddy!”  He ignored the pack of boys scurrying by.  The penultimate moment, however, came when the ball (I am not exaggerating one iota) literally rolled up to him, over his shoe and rested next to his foot.  He simply stood and stared at it, his arms across his chest, pout at full attention.

We all hollered and screamed and suddenly the gaggle of soccer boys hurtled up to him, swept by him and the ball was gone.  TJ remained stolidly in his place.  At that moment, I hollered, “Get in the game now!”  To which my brother replied, “Don’t be a soccer mom.”

It was hard not to do that very thing.  My husband almost had to restrain me from running out onto the field in the middle of the game, swooping up my son and taking him to a private location to “discuss” his behavior.  He was in sore need of AA:  Attitude Adjustment.  Of course, that might have caused a scene (“Did you see that crazy, lunatic woman running across the field, hollering at her son?  Poor kid…stuck with a real soccer mom.”), so I refrained. 

Until we got to the car.

No Nintendo for the rest of the weekend (“Waaaahhhh”) and if appropriate behavior modification does not occur, no Nintendo for…well, FOREVER! 

My husband, always the more calm, rational one, explained the importance of “team playing” and listening to the coach and cooperating even when seemingly unjustly accused of some misdeed.  That happens frequently in sports, and as TJ loves to play sports, it’s an important lesson to learn and learn early.

Sigh.  At least we got his attention. 

I’m still wondering if the Soccer Mom is paying attention as well.

MOTHER’S DISCLAIMER: Please help me out. If you read any stories about my children and know me and my children, please don’t mention any of these stories to my kids or in front of my kids. They are easily embarrassed by these stories and although one day they will enjoy and appreciate them, I’m sure, I do not want them to feel foolish or less of a person because of them right now. Adults can appreciate the humor in these situations, but the kids, as yet cannot. I believe they are of an age where I will now have to ask their permission before publishing any stories, which may reduce the number of great tales to be shared, but it will certainly keep my kids’ self esteem in tact…at least for now.

2 Comments on “Don’t Be A Soccer Mom….”

2 Replies to ““Don’t Be A Soccer Mom….””

  1. Not in my book. But to him? It was no less than a slight on his previously unsullied character.

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