ironical

mother of the year

with 8 comments

This afternoon, while driving one of my many laps around this town – school, husband to work, my work, school, orthodontist, back to school, work, lunch, back to school again, orthodontist again, grocery store, back to school once more time, home for a snack, dance, pick up husband from work, pick up from dance – I was talking to my oldest son about playing football in a local league this fall. Of course, the deadline for signing up for this league has passed, but we’re still in discussions about whether or not we’re going to play, because that’s the pace we move in at the Jones’ house. Late.

There is a dilemma involved: he only wants to play if he can play with his friends. Unfortunately, all friends involved happen to be just older enough that he doesn’t fit the age bracket for their team. It doesn’t matter that’s he’s taller than most of them, apparently.

Ok, really I understand the reasons for rules like these, and I generally can’t stand people who try to get around these things in organized activities, like the whole world revolves around them and their kid getting on the team they want. Grow up.

Except that it’s my kid and this is getting in the way of what would be convenient for me, so now we’re those people. The ones trying to get around the rules.

So all this sports talk reminded my younger son of his lifelong desire to play soccer. I want to be a soccer player, he said at his kindergarten graduation, while all the other kids were talking about being policemen and firemen and paleontologists (yes, really. Paleontologist is a very popular career choice for kindergarteners these days). There were a couple of would be basketball players or future NFL stars, but he was the only soccer player. We’ve been telling him all summer that he’ll get to play this fall.

So he says, what about soccer, mom? and I just pick up my cell phone and call the little office to sign up. I’ll just take care of this right now.

So I speak with the nice lady who proceeds to tell me that not only have I missed the sign up deadline by about 3 weeks, the teams actually start practice this very night. And, all the teams are full. There will be no paying the late fee, no apologizing to the coach for missing the first practice, no soccer this fall.

Half the time, I have to say, I think it’s unbelievably stupid for us as parents to spend the kind of time and money that we do on activities like this. Think of all the good that could be done with that money, or all the meals that wouldn’t get missed because of practices, or all the stress I could miss out on because I wouldn’t have to make sure I got to wherever at whatever time with all the correct gear and people in a reasonably sane state. Not to mention that I wouldn’t have to come face to face with all my insecurities about how my child will perform in front of other people.

The other half of the time I think that I spout all that so that I won’t feel so bad about not winning the big award – you know, the one that I keep finding myself trying to win as a mother.

Oh well, it probably wouldn’t look that good in my house, anyway, and who knows what I would even wear to accept it. Better to grab a seat in the back row with Millie (let’s face it, Alison wouldn’t even go) and throw spitballs at the winner.

That’s what I could do with all those school forms I haven’t filled out yet…

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Written by Sarabeth :: the dramatic

August 23, 2007 at 11:53 pm

Posted in family, life

8 Responses

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  1. when i sat down this week with my STACK of like 50 forms to fill out at the kitchen table, i thought…i think it would take less time to homeschool.

    and soccer? soccer is a playdate. we already have uniforms from years past. and those cleats pinched your feet. (maybe that’s b/c i’m always trying to eeek by on too small sizes because i’m too cheap to buy new ones.)

    and you’re right! i could feed a small country for the price of a football helmet and shoulder pads. not to mention that now i have to figure out where to put them.

    alison chino

    August 24, 2007 at 6:31 am

  2. Hey you are on the front page of wordpress.com. Congrats! And a great post btw. A preview of things to come with our little whipper snapper.

    Guy

    August 24, 2007 at 2:59 pm

  3. Guy, thanks for letting me know! Wouldn’t you know it, my 15 seconds of fame and I completely missed it, somebody else is up now…

    and you have SO much in store with that little one – you have no idea – that’s why they get here in itty bitty size at the beginning…!

    sarabethjones

    August 24, 2007 at 4:42 pm

  4. six-year-old guy here in Italy, Sarabeth.
    I pretended to appreciate your *astonishing* post, and read it with growing panic.
    Well, we chose to rode the bull this way: the sweet kid chose karate, and we practiced karate in the same gym and in the same hours.
    After the first year, this seems us a bit too protective (sorta «kids sports’ italian way»), and we (the would-be succesful parents) are asking us if we shouldn’t let the big boy alone in his activities.

    I think the answer is going to be «No, why?».
    😀 i’ll keep in touch with your superblog, ma’am.

    efialte

    August 30, 2007 at 2:36 am

  5. and by the way, I found you on wordpress’ first page today. oh hurry hurry hurry! Second opportunities happen. Second missings too.

    efialte

    August 30, 2007 at 2:38 am

  6. thank you! wow – italy. isn’t it amazing what this internet can do. and hey, i’m curious, does “efialte” mean something in italian?

    sarabethjones

    August 30, 2007 at 12:18 pm

  7. eohialtes is the greek betrayer that allowed persian king Xerxes to defeat the Greek (Soartan) army at the Thermopylae (beginning of the fifth century b.C.). efialte is a collective identity involved in ‘betraying’ texts and discussing ancient myths.

    efialte

    September 1, 2007 at 2:51 am

  8. have you retired? i mean…i gave up BRIDESMAID info. BRIDESMAID. that’s all i’ve got to say.

    milliej

    September 2, 2007 at 9:55 pm


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