proof of my soccer mom status

As an official Soccer Mom there are probably some rules I'm going to have to learn, or a code I should live by, or at least an oath I should take (because this is a BIG DEAL). Since no one has really taught me the ways yet I'm going to break the rules/code/oath and do something I probably shouldn't: bad mouth my kid online.

Before I start please take note of how stinkin' cute he is in his Purple Dragons uniform and how cute his miniature shin guards are. Here's where the bad mouthing begins. See the below picture? He's the one in green about to kick the ball. I assure you however, that he is not. I saw him touch the ball once in the whole game and, while it was awesome to see him pass the ball to his friend Colin, it wasn't enough for me. At this age all 8 kids on the field (4 on each team) run around the field in a pack and just try to kick the ball out of the pack. Charlie let the other 7 kids have a little more space in the pack and he stayed juuuust outside of it.

I had the most ridiculous soccer career as a child. I believe I played for 5 years and all 5 were spent doing cartwheels in the midfield avoiding the ball. Because of this I've already decided that my kids are going to not only enroll in sports but play them too. Kid #1 during Game #1 gave me serious flashbacks to my own childhood. So, since I've already decided he's not going to be anything like me, things are going to change next week. We're doing drills every night.

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Unfortunately drills can only teach him skills (rhyme intended), they probably can't change his personality. I know deep down he just wanted to be home doing puzzles. He can do a 150 piece puzzle with no help (If you don't have kids let me tell you that this is amazing. If you do have kids I'll apologize for being so braggy, I'm trying to counteract the negativity happening everywhere else in this post). So I know I should just be happy that he's going to shine somewhere, it's just going to be at the Math Olympiad not on a field of any sorts. But I'm not going to. Not just yet. I need him to shine everywhere.

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For fun here's a picture of Mister Sister. I told her she had to stay off the field so she laid as close to the line to be all sad. Poor kid wanted to play so bad.

The moral: I have the van already darn it, just play some stinkin' soccer so I can be a stinkin' Soccer Mom. It's all I have.