An Unlikely Soccer Mom

I never thought to be the quintessential "Soccer Mom", it just happened. I remember throughout my life, the snide remarks made regarding "Soccer Moms" and I would giggle. I believe I've even made these similar remarks in the past. Living in a small mountain town in Colorado and attending school locally, there has never been much more than agricultural community interests and/or sports in which to expend one's energy, especially as a child or teenager. I never fit into these social categories, I was a quiet rebel, wearing combat boots and plaid mini's and sporting one of the first authentic nose rings in my entire high school. Of course, this was during the Grungy Nineties where this was socially acceptable anywhere aside from "Small Town America". I never played team sports and secretly despised athletic social standards and what they stood for.

Out of high school, I attended college and married a boy from my hometown. Terry was a soccer player in school and also dabbled in the extreme sports. My snowboarding, rock climbing, soccer playing boy was the polar opposite of me. I was a bookworm, a lover of fine arts and multi-media. But somehow we fit.

When our daughter was born, I knew that in life, she would make her own decisions just as my husband and I had both done. I would look down at that perfect, tiny little face and wonder who she would be, what type of personality, her hobbies, her interests. Turns out, as I'm sure most parent's know, that she would be a lot like both of her parents with a lot of her own individuality to boot.

She asked to be in a clogging class at age five and we agreed, hoping that this would be something she would enjoy. Being an only child and extremely shy, we encouraged anything "social". Turns out, clogging wasn't her forte', just too much stomping for her. By age six, she decided to play soccer. This took me back as I never realized she had an interest in soccer whatsoever. I unwaveringly supported her decision to do this with not one cringe or negative opinion. My husband decided to coach her team and throughout the entire season we were fully prepared for our little athlete to decide she no longer liked soccer.

Surprisingly, she stuck to the sport and has now played three seasons with a new one starting this spring. Even more surprising is my reaction to her choice of sport. I have my little fold up sport chair, matching water bottles for her and I and a bag of healthy snacks in which I take with me every practice and game. During games, I sit in my little chair or stand at the edge of the field and scream and yell like the rest of the maniacal "Soccer Moms". I'll then nervously look around, ashamed of myself for getting too into the game and remind myself that they are just children. This self chastise never lasts longer than a moment and then I'm again yelling, clapping my hands and shouting my daughter's name. When the opposing team makes a bad move, I'm right there yelling my demands for justice.

In the beginning of my stint as "Soccer Mom", we'd come home from games and my husband would poke fun at me, my parents and friends would poke fun at me and I would be embarrassed of my behavior. Yet, each and every week, there I was screaming my head off and cheering for my daughter. The turning point from shame to acceptance came when I spied a father of one of our player's, screaming, yelling and cheering for his kid along with the other parents. This guy had gone to school with me, he had been by no means, whatsoever, a "jock". In fact he was the exact opposite, more extreme than myself. If he could turn the other cheek, make nice with sports and cheer his child on, then so could I. I now realize that THIS is what parental love is all about. Acceptance and support of one's child, tirelessly and unconditionally.

I'm now happy to admit I am one PROUD SOCCER MOM!