I am not a Soccer Mom. ! ?

I'm not so much a "soccer mom" as I am a really loud, vocal, rambunctious supporter of my daughter.  I've tried to be quiet, really I have!  But, it doesn't work.  To be fair, when Sofia played soccer, I was much quieter.  Mostly because there wasn't anything nice to say.  Bless her heart, my oldest daughter is in no way an athlete.  Eva is much different.  She loves soccer.  And, she's pretty good at it.  She's not aggressive (which is very necessary in sports), but I'm hoping she'll adapt.  She does, however, run harder than any one else on the field (including the boys).  Yes, this is only Rec league soccer.  Yes, the players are only in the 1st and 2nd grade.  Yes, they're just learning the game.  No, that doesn't stop me from yelling like it's the World Cup every single Saturday.  In my defense, I only mumble to myself during practices - even I know there are limits.
At yesterday's game, someone was already sitting in my spot when I arrived.  Yes, I do have a spot.  Anyone who knows me knows that I am as methodical as they come.  Anal Retentive.  I like to sit on the midfield line so I can see both goals equally.  I almost felt bad for the lady when I sat my chair not two feet away from her.  Anyone who knows me also knows that I abhor sitting by people I don't know... but, that shows how determined I was to sit in my designated area.  But, I did have a moment of pity for her... until she showed herself to also be a "yeller".  Then it was on.
Here is a sampling of the supportive sideline coaching I gave yesterday:




"WOOHOO!  LOOK AT THAT CAPTAIN!"



"GET READY, BABY!"

"RUN, EVA!!  GO TO THE BALL!  STAY ON YOUR SIDE!"

"GET IN FRONT OF A BLUE!"

"GO TO THE GOAL!  BE OPEN FOR A PASS!"

"THAT'S MY GIRL!  TAKE IT FROM THEM, BABY!"

These were all of the pictures I was able to take because it's hard to yell and snap photos at the same time.  Luckily, a non-vocal parent was taking pictures, and I cannot wait to see them! 

I never yell mean things - not even to the other team.  It's always supportive and only occasionally bordering on complete frustration.  I have even been caught complimenting the opposing team, though not nearly as robustly.  Before this game, I saw another mom I know who was coming to watch a different game.  She was saying that people always look at her funny when she yells at the games.  She says that people think, since it's only a kid's rec league, you're just supposed to sit quietly on the sidelines.  My response?  "I don't care what level it is, if Eva's playing on a team, I'm going to support as loudly as I can."  Do I get dirty looks?  I imagine so; but that happens all the time anyway, and I could not possibly care less.  Do people around me wish I would shut up?  I imagine so; but so does my husband - ask him how far that's gotten him!  All I care about is that Eva doesn't mind at all.  I'm the first person she looks to after every touch of the ball.  And, she knows that I'll be right there at midfield unashamed to show my pride.

So, the lady who was sitting in my spot before the game... what happened to our battle of voices?  She had moved by the end of half-time.  I guess we know who won on the field as well as off.

It's really not that hard.

You hear all the time (from men) how hard it is to please women.  I have to say that I really disagree.  It's not that hard at all, once you realize that we're different than men.  Lewd jokes, steaks the size of my head, and a remote in the recliner don't do it for us.  Sadly, sometimes you have to put just a little effort in.  But, a little effort can go a long way toward getting you where you want to be.

Here are a few of my favorite things:

The rosy cheeks of a child who has been playing outside all afternoon.

Those body slam hugs that inevitably end in laughing fits.

Silence (except when you know those kids should be making some serious noise).

The deep throated giggles of a child unabashedly enjoying life.

The feeling of the sunshine on my shoulders.

The giant smile pasted on her face after she scores a goal.

A plate full of fresh shrimp.

The knowledge that all of the bills are paid.

The first sip from my bowl of cappuccino.

A simple call or text in the middle of the day for no reason.

Those moments right after you wake up before you realize that it was just a dream.

The high from the afternoon workout when I know I could've just sat down for those few minutes.

The smell of anything baking in my oven.

First and foremost, however, what makes me the most happy is acknowledgment.  Of my hard work.  Of my attempt to discover everything that makes you happy.   Of the fact that I got up this morning (when I really didn't want to) to continue on this journey (when I have no idea where I'm headed) with the people who mean the most to me (when I really wish they'd sleep in just this once).

See, it's really not that hard to make a woman happy.  At least not this woman.  And it doesn't cost a thing.  Unless you are just dying to spend some money... then a vacation away from all of you would really bring a smile to my face!



Updates

I thought this would be a good time to update/clarify some of the things I've posted since I started this blog.

• First Blog:  A little more than four months in, and I still don't feel guilty about posting.  Maybe my "guilt" cup overfloweth so much already, I don't have the room for more?
• Lost and Found:  No one has come to claim Maya yet.  She is, however, still a diva.  This weekend, I got out all of the 5T clothes from her sisters.  As tiny as she is, her legs are super long.  So, all of the 4T dresses were becoming way too short.  Anyway, as we were putting away all of the jeans, shorts, and t-shirts that were in the box, Maya started getting very concerned.  Finally, she said "Where are all of the dresses?"  "Well, these are all of sisters' old clothes, and they didn't like wearing dresses."  long pause... deep sigh... shoulders slump  "You mean, they wore these?"  Obviously, I'll be doing some shopping asap.
• Average:  The girls are still adorably average.  Although, Sofia made it to the state finals for "Music Memory" and will compete next Tuesday at K-State University.  So, this time next week, I may have one extraordinary child.
• Bakeaholic:  Due to the endless birthday celebrations lately, I have been falling behind in my Bon Appetit book.  Apparently, chocolate cake & cookies are preferred over panforte candy.  The family did enjoy the banana splits with three sauces, though.  They just don't know how good they've got it!
• Maya's bed:  Since that post, she has made two new friends.  Unfortunately, neither of us remember their names right now.  Clearly, the new bunny and dog haven't made it into the "in" crowd yet.
• Stay off the grass!:  Sexy guy at the grocery store has been replaced.  Since I guess he's local, I'll keep the new crush's identity to myself.  Let's just say I'm enjoying soccer season much more this time.
• Sunday Mornings:  To clarify... there is no actual navel tickling going on!!!  There is only the fear of it in the future which leads to the prevention of it in the present.  And, on a good day, there's still some bounce.

I appreciate every single one of the people who read/have read this blog.  It means more than words to know that anyone is listening, especially since no one within actual earshot is.  This life can be boring and stifling and lonely, but it's the only one I've got.  So, I'll keep going, dragging these girls along with me.  And, I'll keep you all updated on our adventure.  Whether you like it or not!

Sunday mornings

It's Sunday morning.  Early Sunday morning.  I'm up to make sure that I can get in a bowl of cappuccino before everyone wakes up expecting their hot breakfast.  My body feels older than it did yesterday at this same time.  So, maybe that's why my mind wanders back to a few years ago?  I find myself wistful for the things I took for granted a decade ago.

I remember when Sunday morning was a complete stranger to me.  Back when Saturday night went well past midnight, and the next morning didn't exist.  When I slept until well into the afternoon, woke up long enough to make sure I was home, then fell back to sleep until Monday morning. 

Ahhh... the good old days. 

Back when I could go bra-less without worrying I would tickle my navel.  (Of course, back then, they bounced instead of swung.)  Back when I ate warm food because I didn't have to cut anyone else's food up first.  Back when I wore "cute" clothes that no one used for a napkin/tissue/leash.  Back when it took days instead of hours to make a full load of laundry.  Sometimes, especially on these early mornings, I miss back then.  I miss the high metabolism of those days and wish I had taken more full advantage of them.  There would have been a lot more bacon cheeseburgers - that's for sure.  I miss the silence of those days.  The sound of nothing would be so welcome right about now.

If I had known that I would spend the rest of my years up this early on a Sunday morning, I might have tried for a few more afternoons.  I would still be here this morning, of course, but the memory of then wouldn't be so far back.

Sofia Patricia

My first love.  (At least, the first one I didn't grow to regret.)  Sofia Patricia.

She's named for the two grandmothers who got her parents through their childhoods.  Sofia Romero, the woman who took her papi in when his father abandoned him in Mexico.  And, Patricia Batenic, the woman who practically raised her mama until she was nine.  Two strong women who's strength lives on in my first born.

This week, Sofia turns ten years old.  I swear just last week I was cutting up her food for her and now she's months away from middle school.  When they say time flies, they're talking about what happens between the birth of your first child and the day you realize they're not a baby anymore.

Sofia has lost all signs that she was ever my baby.  She's got a grown girl's face (and an attitude to match).  She's a smart kid with a definite artistic side.  And, as much as it drives me crazy, she will soon be completely "over" me.  She already spends quite a bit of time in her room with the door closed.  And, soon she'll hit the phase where the door will slam every few minutes - not looking forward to that.  We struggle a lot with our relationship.  It's hard learning how to deal with a pre-teen attitude when you became so used to the angel she was as a little kid.  But she's a good kid, and I know that.

In the blink of an eye, this child came from my womb and shot to the "double digits".  I want to freeze her where she is as much as I want to watch her grow into the amazing person she's becoming. 

Sofia Patricia was and will always be the first person I ever loved with my entire being.  And, she will always remain the person who taught me that love doesn't hurt - beyond those first 38 hours of labor.