Sucker Mom, Redux.

Minor update to dilemmas of yesterday. There is in fact a Saturday soccer program for the Captain's age group. It is also, in fact, a good 25 minutes from my house. All of which leads to the next big question...

Do I want to enroll him in soccer so badly that I'm willing to forego my sleep-in morning for a solid 2 months?

I'm a really shitty soccer mom.

Sucker Mom

We all know that as moms go, I have never per se fit the mold of what a good mother should be. As past posts and ramblings have proven, stepping out in a world of playdates and over-scheduled parenting have not been my strong suit. I frankly have to work pretty damn hard to keep up.

Every once in a while, even this Mediocre Mama can't push back on what is so painfully in my face. It occurs to me that the Captain can only successfully maintain friendships with people over the age of 16. And that when I watch his only interaction with other 4 year olds amounting to him stealing a ball from another child on the playground, just to run away with it and play by himself, that it might be a cry for help. The desire to fit in, or more importantly have him fit in, somehow overcomes me. I succumb to the pressures; I decide it's time to transform into what would otherwise be the Bizarro Mama - I become Soccer Mom.

Yep, that's me. Able to drive a small sized SUV and juggle my job, over-scheduled kids, and still have dinner on the table by 7. What's more, I can singlehandedly shuttle the Captain between gymnastics, tennis and swim practice, all within the course of an afternoon. You'll never see me sweat. And I've got a bladder the size of a canyon, so I never need to take care of myself. Ha cha cha.

Frankly, save for the small sized SUV, I do absolutely none of the items in the aforementioned paragraph. So when inspiration hit me yesterday I felt desperately on a mission to enroll the Captain in soccer for the fall. Truth be told, I am not a sporty girl. And unless it involves a large vessel floating on the water the Dad isn't much better. So unless one of us steps up to the plate, this kid is doomed to be as spastic as we are, and worse yet no more social than he already is.

So after 2 days of searching, I finally found a local area soccer club for 3-4 year olds. Delighted, I began to log in and fill out the registration. This thing is 25 minutes from my house, but I didn't give a shit. I'm a soccer mom so get out of my way, bitch. I'll drive anywhere I need to go. And as I pulled out my credit card, I thought to read the fine print:

September 8 - October 13, Tuesdays 11-12, 1-2 or 2-3.

TUESDAY!!! Who the fuck can take their 3 year old on a Tuesday? Does no one work in this town? Or are they all such awesome parents that they say, screw it, I'll just put in for PTO on Tuesdays from 11-12.

And so dear friends and faithful readers (all 5 of you), this Soccer Mom is going back to her Mediocre Mama post. No soccer for you, Captain Kid. Methinks I'll go back to doing what I do best...

Au contraire, mon Capitán.

We've entered the universe of reverse psychology. I never imagined when such a transition might occur, but as it turns out the Captain has entered his contrary phase. As a point of reference, any sentence we begin with, "Do you want to..." meets a resounding response of, "NO, I didn't want to right now." We are patiently waiting it out, to be sure, but it's led to some rather dizzying conversations and scenarios.


Tonight was Captain Kid's first batter-batter baseball game up in Baltimore.






Not only was it a test of his ability to sit through one whole inning, it was a social test for me, with a party hosted beforehand by my company. I can tell you that he was the only kid there running around and raising a ruckus. He's also the only kid who had the pleasure of a big foam hand, which he insisted he get, only to be followed by a declaration that he never wanted it, only to be followed by tears because we took it off his hand, only to be followed by a suggestion that we just put it back where we found it, okay? He then declared that he didn't want a hot dog until I said he couldn't have one, at which time he seemed shocked and dismayed that I would deny him a hot dog. I'm never sure which side of the argument I'm supposed to be on, further frustrated by the fact that there's just no rational reason for us to be in conflict, and my brain is starting to explode with each dizzying level of argument.


I just keep thinking that nothing I studied in law school could possibly prepare me to lose each and every argument with a tenacious toddler. How can one use logic against the illogical?


Yes, I realize this isn't uncommon and I know he's just asserting himself. You could tell me all about your kid and how he/she went through the same thing. Yes, I know that we're in another one of those "phases." But I keep thinking, when do those fucking phases just end?