Still struggling to stick to those New Year’s Resolutions?
Don’t bother. (I’m still working on the same ones from 2011).
We’ve taken a different approach to motivating our family. I’m at Manilla.com today and Yahoo! Finance to tell you all about it.
Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category
19 Dec
All I Want For Christmas…
Dear Children –
You only have a few more shopping days until Christmas and I know that you might be wondering what to get me. (You are boys, after all, so I know you haven’t even started shopping yet).
But before I get to my list, I wanted to tell you a story.
When I was younger I couldn’t wait to buy presents for my parents for Christmas. I would take my hard-earned allowance and rush over to Zayre (the Kmart/Target/Wal-Mart of my day) and scour the shelves looking for the perfect gifts.
Invariably I would stumble on some item in the beauty section that I was POSITIVE my mother would love and my dad would end up with Old Spice shaving cream. They would ooh and aah over the gifts and get so excited that it started a string of years where some version of a toiletry was about all they ever got.
I would like to believe that even though my gifts were lame, my parents appreciated the gesture.
I was wrong.
My parents never said anything to me but really, my mother was saddled with a drawer full of pastel colored shell-shaped soaps and buckets full of Jean Nate cologne and my father, who always used an electric razor, had enough shaving cream to shear a yeti. What they probably wanted all along was time.
How can you give someone time?
I’m glad you asked. I spend most of my time dealing with crap: scheduling appointments, fixing things around the house, driving, filling out forms, sitting on the phone waiting for operators and technicians to walk me through something that has gone wrong in the house and, yet, they are all necessary tasks. They are just total time sucks.
I want you to wait in line, schedule appointments and do all of the crap for me so I don’t have to. That is the gift of time. So here is my list. Feel free to give me as many as possible:
1. My laptop needs a new battery and I do not want to spend even another minute in an Apple store—ever again. So you go. And while you are there tell the nice Genius people to uninstall all of the ridiculous games/apps that you have downloaded that make my laptop run at a snail’s pace.
2. Please clean out the closet under the stairs in the basement which is full of all of the toys that you HAD to have when you were little and subsequently tossed into the black hole of our basement closet never to be heard from again.
3. Please, please, please do not throw your brother’s newly cleaned and folded clothes in your dirty laundry basket just because I mistakenly put it in the pile with your clean clothes. Please walk 20 feet to your brother’s room and put it on his bed. Rewashing clothes is a time suck.
4. Speaking of laundry…do you see that overflowing basket in your closet? Feel free to wash all of the clothing in it. And wash your brothers while you’re at it. Do this weekly for as long as you live here.
5. From my tech savvy son, I would like you to figure out why my calendars won’t sync between devices. If I have to figure it out I will either a) never do anything about it and hope that I don’t miss an appointment or b) be on the phone with tech support for 3 hours pretending to understand what I’m supposed to do and never do anything about it.
6. From my oldest, I would like you to drive your brother to soccer practice. As often as possible. Driving back and forth two or three days a week makes me feel like a hamster on a hamster wheel.
7. And finally, someone please return all of the lame Christmas gifts that I bought yesterday (apparently, I never learn). No one really wants an Abraham Lincoln Chia Pet no matter what I said two weeks ago.
What do you want for Christmas?
Merry Christmas!
11 Dec
Surviving the Holidays…with Teens
Do you have teenagers? Are they sucking the joy out of the season? Are you looking for a way to manage their moods that doesn’t involve boycotting the holidays??
I may have the answer (or at least the beginning of an answer).
I’m on manilla.com today blogging about my 3-step survival plan for the holidays. Let me know what you do to keep your cool during this festive season.
https://www.manilla.com/blog/tis-the-season-3-step-holiday-survival-plan-for-dealing-with-teenagers/
6 Dec
The Procrastinator’s Guide to Holiday Shopping (or what not to do if you actually want to buy gifts this season)
No matter how much I think I have my shit together I always find myself scrambling for the “perfect Christmas gift” on December 24. It’s not like Christmas falls on a different date every year or that I haven’t been reminded on a daily basis since Halloween to start my holiday shopping and yet…
This year I had the crazy idea that I could be one of those people who shop for holiday gifts throughout the year. I would pick up the perfect presents as I found them and squirrel them away until the holidays.
And then I snapped out of it.
I think that I’m a much better shopper in full-on panic mode. That doesn’t mean that I actually buy better gifts when I’m panicking; it simply means that I get more creative. For instance, in years past, our local 24-hour pharmacy’s “As seen on TV” section has been a real life saver. The Snuggie was the inspiration for the “couch potato” themed gift for my youngest son which included popcorn and a couple of DVDs and I tossed the infamous Ped Egg in a basket with some foot cream and nail polish for a friend. Done!
So, you may be wondering how I get myself into this predicament every year—or maybe you’re not, but I’m going to tell you anyway. I usually don’t procrastinate especially when it’s something I enjoy – and I truly enjoy picking out gifts for others. I think the problem is that there is just so much to choose from that I get distracted.
It goes something like this:
First, I go online to browse. I don’t want to head out to a store, or 12—only to find nothing worth buying so, I browse. I check out the GAP website looking for more clothes for my 17-year-old because I have no idea what else to buy him. I scroll through the long-sleeve shirt section but as I scroll back to the top, I notice the GapFit tab. I could use some more yoga pants, I think. I’ll just see what they have and add stuff to my list.
15 minutes and $60 later I have new yoga pants – my husband can wrap these for me – but no shirts for my kid.
Then, I make another major gaffe by “peeking” at Amazon.
It’s like a black hole.
I bounce from Young Adult books for my youngest to shoes for my 17-year-old to stocking stuffers (ooh, gloves!) to the new Kindle HDX. Then I take a detour to look at the Holiday Gift Guide which makes me remember all of the magazines that I have been saving with Holiday Gift Guides so I abandon my cart and start to flip pages.
I love Gift Guides. They have absolutely nothing that I would ever buy for anyone – ever – yet, I can’t stop buying magazines that scream “Best Ever Holiday Gift Guide” on the cover. I am positive that one year there will be something that strikes a cord but so far – zip. I mean, who on earth would want a $165 Oscar de la Renta ceramic Shell Crab Condiment Server??
When the “fun” of online shopping wears off I often head to the mall (although usually not on the same day lest you think I’m crazy). I always believe that the festive atmosphere of shopping malls around the holidays will compel me to finish my holiday shopping.
Usually, however, it compels me to buy more gifts for myself.
Just so we are clear, I rarely shop for myself – seriously – I need to have a reason to shop and wearing the same pair of jeans for years does not qualify as a reason. However, no matter where I go I can always find something that I want (notice that I didn’t say need) during the holidays. This time I found the perfect pair of pants, the best handbag ever, and sunglasses that block the sun and don’t make me look like a bug!
And so it goes: one thing for a family member and five things for me.
This pattern of online shopping followed by mall shopping can go on for a couple of weeks. Inevitably it leads to shopping burnout which, in turn, leads to me shopping at the 24-hour pharmacy on December 24.
I already see the Sobakawa Buckwheat pillow and/or the Abraham Lincoln Chia head in someone’s future.
26 Nov
On Your Mark, Get Set, Celebrate
I am one half of an inter-faith couple—the lapsed Greek-Orthodox Christian half, while my husband makes up the Jewish half. What does that mean?
It means that December is a very long month.
We celebrate all of our respective holidays, so this year, in addition to hearing Christmas music on the radio that began around Halloween and negotiating packed shopping malls long before Thanksgiving, we also have eight days of Hanukkah to celebrate—in November. I’m going to be burnt out by Christmas; that’s too long for me to stay festive.
But I’m trying.
To begin, I will start with sharing a smattering of things that I am grateful for this Thanksgiving.
I would like to say that the things I am grateful for are all appropriately Thanksgiving-esque, but they’re not. Not that I’m not grateful for my health and my family and electricity and health insurance because I really, really am. I am the person who walks around waiting for the other shoe to drop because I can’t believe how much good stuff I have in my life and I’m thankful for all of it. But, I’m also really grateful for the inane stuff—like wine and popcorn for dinner when no one else is home.
It really is about the little things…
- I am thankful that my husband sucks at this parenting gig as much as I do because I know that I’m not alone.
- (This should really be 1a but…) I am thankful that my husband knows that he sucks at being a parent and doesn’t look at me with disdain when I do something stupid.
- I am grateful (and a little amazed) that my sons’ friends don’t mind hanging out at our house and chatting with me especially when I am wearing the same sweatshirt that I’ve worn for four straight days—and they’ve noticed.
- I am secretly grateful for the Xbox or PlayStation on days when I want to take a catnap on the couch and I know my boys will be glued to the screen in the basement for a good hour…or three.
- I am thankful that I have a 5-year-old dog, not a puppy, and that my kids are in their teens. I mean, I love puppies – who doesn’t – but I don’t like training puppies and I hate waking up at 3 am to let them out. Sort of like waking up with babies. I have truly loved every stage of my kids’ growth (even the terrible-twos, threes and fours) but it’s kind of awesome to have kids who can carry their own luggage through the airport, talk to me about something they read in the newspaper, and watch movies with me that aren’t animated.
- I am grateful that my 13-year-old finally started showering every day. Now if he would just pick up his towel from the floor…
- I am grateful for Netflix and Hulu streaming. How else would I be able to spend hours on the couch bonding with my boys over Psych and 24 reruns?
- I am so thankful that I have friends who lack a filter (one friend told me that hers “fell out somewhere” in her thirties). Who else would give me the straight dope?
- I am thankful that my kids are old enough to understand discretion and have yet to spill any of our family secrets.
- I am grateful that my kids don’t always snap at me when I try to talk to them and that, occasionally, they even laugh with me—not at me.
What are you grateful for this Thanksgiving?
Have a very Happy Thanksgiving and Gobble Tov!
11 Oct
Size Doesn’t Matter
My younger son’s soccer team won a tournament this weekend and someone sent me a congratulatory email that read: “It shows that size really isn’t as important as determination and hard work…”
I didn’t get it. Why does size matter?
Yes, my son is vertically challenged. He is the by-product of a 5’2” mom and a 5’8” dad so that’s not too much of a surprise, but he wasn’t trying out for the NBA or even shooting for Olympic Gold in the high jump. Now that would be a feat for someone on the less tall side. Then, I suppose, height would be a relevant talking point.
But soccer? Lionel Messi of FC Barcelona is considered one of the greatest soccer players of all time and he’s only 5’7”. (His teammates, Andres Iniesta and Xavi are only 5’6”!) Messi is skilled, fast, and determined because he wants to win not because he’s shorter than the average European soccer player.
My youngest has always been determined. “Me do it!” was his mantra even when he was two-years-old and didn’t realize that he was only in the 5th percentile for height. He was simply born with that “can do” attitude.
It’s funny though, how some people—usually the freakishly large—view short stature as a negative, something that needs to be overcome. Sure, there are studies that show that people who are shorter than average are paid less than their taller counterparts, but women and African-Americans are also paid less than their counterparts. Those statistics are far more telling of who is in charge of the money than they are of anything of importance about someone short or African-American or female.
To me—all five-foot-two-inches of me—being short doesn’t mean you have a Napoleon complex. It just means you’re short.
But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe being teased about his height has helped my son become a little feistier. My sassy center may have been shaped by way too many short jokes (although I think it had more to do with being the youngest in the family and being picked on by my older brother).
Perhaps my younger son’s spirited side is due to my constant yelling and screaming…at his older brother. My oldest doesn’t respond to my shrieking but motivating my youngest may be a happy by-product! (I’m shameless when it comes to justifying my bad behavior).
I, of course, would rather attribute my younger son’s drive to a higher purpose: a fight for those who have been wronged. I’ve noticed that he gets most fired up in a soccer match when a teammate gets a raw deal, a ref makes a bad call or when an opposing player pushes him around. During his last game, he became more aggressive after two opposing players drove him into the ground. (Both players were his height, in case you were thinking that he was trying to prove a point.)
To get to the bottom of this I decided to simply ask my son if his height makes him work harder at soccer. (We try to avoid talking about his height because we don’t want him to think that we think he’s short).
“Of course!” he responded, without hesitation.
That just goes to show you…
I know nothing about my children.
2 Oct
Just Like the Emmys…Only Better
I never win anything and I rarely get nominated for anything either, which is why I was so excited to hear that my friend, Joy Sussman, at Joyfullygreen.com nominated my blog for a Liebster Award.
I know! It’s like the Emmys only better!
Unfortunately, I don’t think I can make a valid argument for a gown and jewelry but…it may warrant new shoes.
A Liebster award, for those of you outside of the blogging world, is a way for your readers to get to know some other newish bloggers. It’s a nice way to show your appreciation for bloggers who you follow and give them some exposure. All nominees answer 10 questions that are posed by the nominating blogger and then nominate other bloggers and pose questions for them.
Here are my answers to the questions from Joyfully Green:
1. Knowing what you know now, what advice would you give your 13-year-old self?
I have a 13-year-old so this is an interesting question. When I was 13 I, like most 13-year-olds, was self-conscious and insecure so I held back when I should have been going for it. I would tell myself to lighten up because no one was paying attention to me anyway; they were all worried about themselves.
2. What is your idea of perfect bliss?
Perfect bliss would be sitting on my porch, early in the morning (when everyone around me is sleeping) with a big mug of great coffee and a good book. Those moments don’t happen nearly enough.
3. What books have been most influential or inspiring to you?
I would like to say that I was most influenced by great works of literature by Homer, Plato and Dickens but I wasn’t (although The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli, The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera and everything I read by Shakespeare in high school made me realize that teachers didn’t always assign horrible books). My influences are far more mundane: the Nancy Drew book series (and my brother’s Hardy Boys books) drove me to try my hand at writing for the first time which also made me realize that I shouldn’t write fiction; Arlene Eisenberg’s What To Expect the First Year, with all of its dog-eared pages, still holds a special place on my bookshelf (how else would we have known how to give our first kid a bath if we didn’t have step-by-step instructions??!); I also have 100-plus cookbooks that inspire me to eat better and live better everyday—which eventually I will do—but the one that made me really love to cook is The Silver Palate Cookbook; and finally, although there are dozens of parenting books that I refer to, Get Out Of My Life, but first could you drive me and Cheryl to the mall? by Anthony Wolf, was the first parenting book I turned to when my oldest became a teen. I go back to it again and again when I need to figure out what I’m doing wrong.
4. What’s the biggest lesson you’ve learned about life? About blogging?
It’s the same lesson I learn over and over again: you can’t really control anything, no matter how hard you try. Although I know this is true, I still find it hard to believe. It’s the same with blogging; I try to put my best ideas out into the blogosphere but sometimes the pieces that I didn’t consider that to be that great turn out to be the biggest crowd pleasers. You have to cede a little control to the unknown influences in your life and your writing…I think?
5. What single quality do you appreciate in people?
Humor. Without question
6. What or who is under-rated? What or who is over-rated?
I think that bi-partisan politics are truly under-rated.
Most over-rated? Reality television celebrities. I don’t get it; I never will.
7. What do you avoid at all costs?
Reality television (see above).
8. What’s your guiltiest pleasure?
Buying shoes. I have a great collection of “going out shoes” (as my friends call them). The only problem is, I don’t go out enough to wear them!
9. What do you want people to say about you when you leave the room?
Great shoes! No, just kidding. I would like people to say that I seem very genuine and that what they saw was what they got. That, and that I seem way taller than 5 foot 2.
10. What’s your favorite post that you’ve written?
Does Not Play Well With Others is still my favorite post, probably because I miss the person I was when the event I wrote about happened. It was early in my parenting years, when I wasn’t so worried about being diplomatic or worried about how my choices might affect my kids. It serves as a good reminder to me and, apparently, could serve as a good reminder to my 13-year-old self. I guess I’ve come full circle.
https://isuckasaparent.com/2011/11/04/does-not-share-well-with-others/
Thanks again, Joy, for the shout out. I had fun with the questions.
And now, as the rules of the Liebster Award dictates, here are my nominees for blogs. I don’t actually know how many are “new” as dictated by Liebster rules (and I can’t really tell how many followers they have) all I know is that they are newish to me:
And here are my questions to these bloggers:
1. Why did you start your blog?
2. What is your favorite movie?
3. Where was your last, best vacation?
4. Who is your favorite author and why?
5. What is your most prized possession?
6. Cat or Dog?
7. What is the most delicious food you have ever eaten?
8. What is your favorite quote and by whom?
9. If you could meet anyone dead or alive, who would it be?
10. What is your favorite post that you’ve written? (Please provide link!)
19 Sep
Managed Expectations
I just returned from a four-day tour of colleges with my son and aside from my scratched cornea and a cough that has forced me to sleep upright on my living room couch, we got nothing out of it.
I had grand plans for our trip. We were going to talk and laugh and bond over our weekend experience. We would discuss the high and low points of the colleges we visited and laugh about the ridiculous questions that other parents asked (questions like, “How many volumes does the library have?”). We would return home with private jokes and be closer than ever.
Instead we bickered and fought and I threatened over and over again to fly home without him. Our discussions about the schools we visited were reduced to single sentences like:
“This tour guide is TOO happy. I don’t want to go to school here.”
or
“I really don’t want to go to school in the South or East.” (Which would have been fine except that we were in South Carolina… heading northeast).
Mostly I drove and he napped. There were no heart-warming chats, no easy laughter, no communication of any kind other than his occasional requests for bathroom breaks and, of course, food.
Naturally, this is my fault (what isn’t, right?). I just expect too much. A good friend of mine has suggested—on more than one occasion—that I simply need to “manage my expectations.” Apparently, I expected to be traveling with my oldest son as he was when he was younger: chatty, enthusiastic and willing to share every detail of his life with me. I should have realized that I was traveling with a 17-year-old who wanted to be home with his girlfriend and had no intention of telling me anything beyond when and what he needed to eat.
Why should I expect it to be different?
Because I want it to be – damn it!
It’s really not fair that you are handed one kind of kid when they are born and they turn into something unrecognizable in a little over a decade. I haven’t changed – I’m still the anxious, over-protective, demanding parent I’ve always been. My boys, on the other hand, have morphed into cats.
That is the best explanation for this transformation. According to the writer, Adair Lara, in her essay, When Children Turn Into Cats, my once adorable children, who I often referred to as puppies – enthusiastic, sweet and undemanding – are now distant and uncommunicative felines.
Lara’s descriptions were spot on. I remember the way my kids would look at me when they were little – they were amazed at how brilliant and capable I was – it was almost overwhelming. Now, as Lara explains, your kids are still amazed, “[a]mazed, as if wondering who died and made you emperor.”
And now, “Instead of dogging your footsteps, [your cat/teenager] disappears.”
If you are the parent of a teen you know that one day your kid can’t get enough of you and the next he can’t get far enough away.
Lara’s solution seems simple enough: learn how to act like a cat owner and put your “dog owner” hat on the back-burner until your kids come back around.
It’s great advice if you are willing or able to change, but I’m not (you know, old dog/new trick kinda thing). I’m also managing my expectations – I would expect this to take too long and not work very well. By the time I figure it out they will be out of the house.
Besides, I’m allergic to cats…
11 Sep
Big News!
I have some really exciting news – and, no, I am NOT pregnant. That certainly would be “news” but not exactly the “exciting” kind.
No, today I was launched as a blogger for Manilla – an on-line, award-winning, free and secure service for consumers to manage their bills and accounts, in one place.
(But that’s not where I come in because I have no idea how to pay my bills on-line…yet)
Manilla.com, which is owned by the Hearst Corporation, also hosts a blog with over 75 expert contributors who write about money, organization, productivity and lifestyle topics on a monthly basis. I will be sharing my “expertise” about the joy and pain and stress and (joy!) of preparing two children to go off into the world as mature, responsible adults.
I was really drawn to Manilla when I saw their booth at the BlogHer Conference in Chicago in July. This t-shirt spoke to me:
I’m always trying to get my s**t together; I thought having the t-shirt would help with that. It was definitely the first step.
If you want to get your s**t together, check out the site and the blogs and see what the other writers have to say about family, health, time management and money strategies.
But wait, there’s more!
If that wasn’t exciting enough for you, today is also the day that the new anthology, Not Your Mother’s Book…On Being a Parent is being released nationwide…and one of my stories is in the book!
I am very excited to be part of this series of books and to have my parenting story be published alongside some really funny authors who simply tell it like it is—the good, the bad and the WTF? Not Your Mother’s Book…On Being a Parent is just one title in a slew of humorous books published by Publishing Syndicate, on topics ranging from college to menopause and everything in between.
So, without further ado, here is the piece that was included in the book. Although I wrote it a couple of years ago, very little has changed except that now I have two teenaged boys to feed.
Feeding the Hangry
“I’m so hungry and there is NOTHING TO EAT!”
And so begins the after school fun.
My 15-year-old will stand in front of an open refrigerator teeming with food—yogurt, wedges of multiple types of cheese, tortillas for quesadillas, frozen ravioli, drawers full of fruit and lunch meat, 3 different kinds of bread, frozen pizzas, 2 kinds of peanut butter, 3 different jellies, eggs (uncooked and hardboiled), and every kind of condiment you can imagine—and complain that there is no food in the fridge.
This is usually followed by words that make my blood boil: “Make me SOMETHING!”
Keeping up with the food intake of a 15-year-old boy is a very time-consuming (not to mention, expensive) proposition. My son needs to eat at least every 2 hours or he becomes Hangry – no, it’s not a typo – he becomes so hungry that he becomes angry and nobody needs a teenager who is angrier than usual.
He is capable of consuming an entire sub sandwich, a large bag of chips, yogurt and fruit and he’ll finish all of this off with a bowl of cereal. That’s between 3:30 and 3:45. By 4:15 he is starving!
So, what does he do? Does he then sort through the pantry and whip up a satisfying snack? Does he sift through his memories to find one of the endless recipes that I have painstakingly demonstrated to him should he find himself hungry and alone? No, of course not. He waits for me to make him something or he grabs a completely unsatisfying cereal bar and moans until dinner.
I have been saying for years that he would starve to death if someone weren’t there to feed him. And whose fault is this? Mine. I take all the blame for this one. I have gratefully fed him all of these years because he loves food—especially my food. What mother wouldn’t want to hear her child gush about how good her food is? “You’re the best cooker,” he told me when he was 5 as he inhaled whatever dish I put in front of him. That was cute then. Now, not so much.
So the other day, while he was begging me to make him some spinach ravioli with browned butter and shaved Parmesan (yes, yes, I’ve spoiled him, I know!), I turned to him and said: “No – make it yourself.”
“But I don’t know how,” he insisted. “And you’re right here. You could make it better.”
“Pretend I’m dead,” I responded. He turned to me in horror.
“What?” he asked.
“Pretend I’m dead,” I repeated. “How would you eat?”
I could see the wheels turning. Should he demonstrate his limited cooking skills and make a quesadilla or should he pour another bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios?
It’s usually around this time – right after I’ve thrown down the gauntlet and demanded that he learn to take care of himself that I start to feel myself back-peddling. Would it really be so horrible to continue to cook for him while he lives at home? Couldn’t I just baby him a little while longer, he’ll be gone in a few years, right?
The reality is he would eventually find food or find a way to make food. He likes food far too much to subsist on sugar cereal and frozen waffles. He even signed up for a Creative Cuisine class next year at school. But why would he ever put any of those skills to use if I’m around to feed him? And should a 15-year-old have to?
What’s worse: not feeding your child who is asking for food or not teaching your child to fend for himself?
I feel my defenses breaking down. I’m just about to break out the pots and pans when he decides to answer me.
“If you weren’t around to feed me…I’d order take out.”
Problem solved.
4 Sep
Top Ten Reasons Why I’m a Crappy Soccer Mom
It’s soccer season again and, as always, I find myself slacking in my parenting duties. Sure, I get my kid to practices and games on time, I shove a water bottle in his backpack, and I drive countless hours to stand on the sidelines and not say a word (see #9 below) but I’m still not in the running for “Soccer Mom of the Year.”
I wasn’t Baseball Mom of the Year either and there is no way I’ll be Track Mom of the Year. I’ve been to two of my older son’s track meets in two years! Yes, I know, I’m a crappy track mom but, come on! He’s a sprinter, so even if he runs in three events he is done in less than 75 seconds. Do you know how long a track meet is?? (2-3 hours, in case you didn’t know).
So this weekend, as I drove back-and-forth to my son’s soccer tournament, I thought about all of the “good sports moms” (and dads) who I watched on the sidelines and I realized what they could teach me:
- A good soccer mom would not sit in the car flipping through a stack of magazines when it is raining/below 30 degrees/above 90 degrees. She would be properly dressed and sitting on the sidelines.
- A good soccer mom would take photos of her child playing soccer. The only photos I have of my kid are from four years ago and he’s in the background of a picture of someone else’s kid…at least I think that’s my kid.
- A good soccer mom would not send her child to soccer practice when the heat index is over 100 degrees without the appropriate gear. Cooling towels and Gatorade are musts; one bottle of water is, apparently, not enough.
- A good soccer mom would not send her child to soccer practice with a sore throat/the sniffles/a hacking cough unless she had already ruled out strep or swine flu.
- A good soccer mom would observe the self-imposed 24-hour rule and not talk about all the ways in which her child did not do well as soon as his mud-caked butt hit the car seat.
- A good soccer mom would pack snacks for her kid traveling to and from soccer games and tournaments so she wouldn’t have to stop at the gas-station mini-mart to pick up beef jerky and pork rinds.
- A good soccer mom would have clothing items in the exact shade of blue (or green or yellow) as her child’s uniform or at the very least have lots of clothing with the team logo on it. (Ok, this is definitely more of a baseball parent thing but I saw a lot of color-coordinated parents this weekend.)
- A good soccer mom would be the team manager and the team coach and the team mascot and not simply check the box that reads “let me know if you need anything” knowing full well that all of the other good soccer moms already have it covered.
- A good soccer mom would not embarrass her child by yelling out, “Take the ball up!” or “Run!” Your child can hear you (all evidence to the contrary) and any words of “encouragement” are distracting and annoying (trust me; ask your child).
- A good soccer mom would never utter the words: “This game would be so much better with a margarita.” Or would she…?
What kind of sports parent are you?
i suck as a parent 