Okay, so, I wasn’t a true first time soccer mom. Perhaps I should have titled this post, “Tales of a First Time Outdoor Soccer Mom.” Truth is that BigBrother played indoor soccer this past winter and absolutely adored the sport itself. For that reason only, I signed him up for the fall season of outdoor soccer.
I was nervous. It was our first non-YMCA based team sport. Then there are the Soccer Mom Horror Stories that left me wondering if I would survive a season of cold shoulders, sweaters worn around shoulders and general nastiness. Turns out all the worry was for naught.
BigBrother enjoyed the experience thoroughly. When I say thoroughly, I mean that the kid ate, slept and dreamed soccer. He wants shirts with soccer balls on them. He wants to play soccer any time we go outdoors. He thinks soccer is the Be All And End All. Looks like we have a winner!
It helped that, once again, we had a great coaching experience. Coach M was kind, funny, encouraging and age appropriate in what he expected of his young players. I witnessed another team whose coach yelled things, in a not-just-to-be-heard-over-kids-voice but in an I’m-yelling-because-I’m-frustrated-with-you-voice (and trust me, I know the difference). I was so glad that he wasn’t our coach. Even LittleBrother took a liking to Coach M. I was beyond thankful for the positive leadership that BigBrother got to see in action.
As an added bonus, no one smoked at any of his soccer games. Not a one! That’s eight weeks of smoke free sporting events. I was in heaven.
As far as the whole Soccer Mom worries, I found it to be a load of malarkey. I’m not saying that I’m now best friends with every mom on BigBrother’s team. In fact, I maybe only talked to a total of three moms all seasons. And one grandma, whom I happen to know well. It’s not because I was shunning the ones I didn’t speak to. Or because I was buddy-buddy with the three moms I spoke to. Or because of any stupid Soccer Mom Stereotype silliness. Why wasn’t I concerned about any of that jazz? I was watching (and photographing) my son’s games. Period. I wasn’t there to make friends, though I wasn’t rude to anyone. I was there to cheer on my son, even when he kicked the ball toward the wrong goal. He was my priority. Not silly games. Not worrying if my hair looked all right. My son. End of discussion.
That mindset worked well for me. I had a drama free soccer experience. BigBrother scored two goals. His team only lost one game. He only cried once during an unfortunate knee-cap-to-his-head kerfuffle. End of season, medal in hand.
Will we sign him up next year? Yes, if he wants to. He’ll also play indoor soccer this winter… if he wants to. And I’ll keep enjoying watching him make crazy facial expressions and enjoy the snot out of running back and forth and back and forth because I know the real joy of a Soccer Mom: My kid sleeps so soundly the night of a game because he’s run off all of his excess energy.
Long live soccer, indeed.
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My name is Jenna, aka FireMom. I blog here, 
