Tag: soccer

10 Things This Stay at Mom No Longer Wants to Hear

On By Doser3In Dreaming of Mommyhood - GeneralLeave a comment

Every. Single. Day.  I am bombarded by questions, comments, advice, and judgment from other people because I am a stay at home mom.  Every. Single. Day.   It never ceases, it’s like a constant barrage of words pelting my entire body.  And of course there are blogs and articles about being a working mom vs. a stay at home mom, which is better and which is worse.   This morning, I read a blog on Scary Mommy that had the 12 things a working mother never wants to hear.  First off, let me give props to you working moms out there.  It’s tough work.  I’ve been there and done that.   Secondly, let me also just give props to ALL the moms in the world, whether they be working moms or stay at home moms.   You, WE, are all rock stars!

Back to this blog I read.   Working moms get a lot of grief.  I know this.  On occasion, I’ve thought negatively about my fellow working moms whether it be because I’m jealous of their adult interactions, having a life OUTSIDE of their kids, or because I just think their being selfish (yes, I have thought this.  Shame on me, I know!)  After reading this blog, it got me to thinking about the things I, a stay at home mom, don’t want to ever hear.

1.  Oh, I’m sorry.  You must have lost your job.  First off, don’t just automatically assume that since I’m staying home with my kids, it means I lost my job.   Some of us actually chose to leave our Corporate America jobs.   I went back to work when my maternity leave with Davey was up.  He was six weeks old.  I turned in my notice when he was four months old.  I saw nothing productive out of my day while I was working.   Instead all I could think about was what I was missing out on with my son.  I would rise at 5 to shower and get ready, feed Davey at 6 and while my husband dressed him and fixed our breakfast, I would finish getting ready, pack Davey’s diaper bag and drop him off at daycare no later than 7:10, go to work, leave work at 5, pick Davey up at 5:30 and then would have maybe 2 hours with him before he had to go to bed.  2 hours!  That wasn’t acceptable for me.   I can always go back to work, maybe not in my chosen profession, but I can’t go back and make memories.   So, no I CHOSE to leave my job.

2.  You must have a degree in Home Ec.  Yes, I do hear this.  Do they even offer Home Economics anymore?  I never took it in high school.   And just for your information I have an Associates Degree in English, a Bachelors Degree in Speech and Communication Studies & Political Science (I double majored) and a Master’s Degree in Business Administration.

3.  I bet you have time to get caught up on all your soap operas.  Yes, I do hear this one as well.  Who watches these anymore?  I don’t even have time to sit down and watch the news in the mornings, much less watch a soap opera.   When the boys are napping, I’m usually doing some sort of housework or maybe squeezing in some writing time.

4.  I bet you get to workout all the time.  Yes, I do go to the Y, so I do get in some sort of an exercise routine.   I don’t do it just for me, as the Y offers all sorts of programs for children.   Davey flips out if we don’t go on a Wednesday, since that is his exercise day, but I don’t work out all the time.  Anyone who’s seen me knows that I don’t, but I am active with both of my boys, playing soccer or tee ball in the backyard, going on bike rides, and hiking, but my boys are with me 90% of the time I’m getting in any sort of exercise.

5.  Your children will be socially awkward.  My children will NOT and are NOT socially awkward.   That is because I have chosen from the start to constantly have them at various events, from the library, to the children’s museum, to play dates.  I give up my comforts of wanting to just stay at home, so that they can have the interaction they need.  Being a stay at home mom doesn’t mean we stay home 24/7.  I’m very conscientious about keeping my boys active socially.

6.  Studies have shown that children thrive in an atmosphere when both parents are working.  I went to daycare and look how I turned out.    Studies are coming out EVERY day.  There’s always a new one.  This one touts exercising while pregnant will increase your child’s IQ when he’s 5.  Another says that smelling a person’s farts will increase your life span by 6 years.  Studies are gibberish in most cases, a waste of time and money.  The studies focusing on curing cancers and AIDS and other medical impediments, those are worth the energy to be concerned about  Studies are subjective and can NOT be used in every situation.   I went to daycare, too, and I turned out just fine, but I want something more for my kids.

7.  Your husband must make a LOT of money.  Yes, my husband has a wonderful job and it is his job that allows me to be a stay at home mom, but we’ve made sacrifices.  We don’t drive luxury cars, I don’t own luxury clothing, we don’t go out to eat at fancy restaurants.   We had to change our lifestyle in order to accommodate us living off of one salary.  It was hard at first, but we’ve made it work and my kids don’t want for anything.   Stop assuming we’re rich just because I don’t work by my own choice.

8.  I could never stay at home with my kids.  You could, if your circumstances allowed for it.   Some moms must work in order to help keep food on the table and the kids clothed.  Others do it because they just don’t think they could stay home with the kids.   Look, it’s not easy.   I lose my patience a LOT, I mean A LOT!  Some days I feel like I’m spinning my wheels and getting nowhere.   Some days I feel there has been no sense of accomplishment.  I lay my head down some nights and think, “what did I accomplish today?”  Being at home is hard work.  It’s not easy, but if your situation allowed for it, you COULD do it.  I have faith in you.

9.  I bet you have all the time in the world to write that novel you’ve been working on.  As most of you who read my blog know, I sometimes go for days, even weeks without writing a blog because I just don’t have the time for it.  I do most of my writing either early in the morning before everyone is up or during that 30 minutes of time in the evenings when my husband is having his one on one time with the boys.   After that, my husband and I spend a couple of quiet hours together.  Writing isn’t my priority right now.

10.  Must be nice to get to sleep in every morning.  You know, you don’t have to get up and go to work.  No, you’re right, I don’t have to leave the house to go to work, but I still treat my role as a stay at home mom as a job, a career choice.   I get up every morning by 6 (I do have the occasional morning when I get to sleep to maybe 7), do my writing, have some coffee, get dressed and get breakfast ready.   I find if I don’t keep a routine to my day, including rising in the morning, then I’m setting myself and my boys up for failure.   I don’t let my boys sleep past 7:30 most mornings because I want them already on the routine of needing to get up Monday through Friday.   They’ll be going to school soon, after all.

I could add more to this list, but really I don’t have the time, nor do I think many of you have the time to read more.   Look, we all have this chip in our head, a little switch that turns our filters on and off, but for some reason it seems to malfunction when talking to mothers.   I don’t know if we’re just trying to make small talk, but if this is how it turns out, then just don’t do it.   Stop passing judgment on me and my life just because you either a.) don’t understand it or b.) just think it’s the wrong route to take.

My boys are both very smart, testing above their age groups.   They love each other and other kids.   They’re well mannered and two of the sweetest boys you could ever meet.   Could they be this way if I were a working mom?  Sure, but I don’t think our relationships would be this great.

Talk to Ironman

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Yes, this is what we have now crumbled to in our house.   If I want to have a conversation with Davey, ask him a question, tell him what not to do, etc., well then I must talk to Ironman in order to get to Davey.   A big heavy sigh.

I’ve been fortunate in that neither one of my boys have needed a lovie or an item to provide them with security and comfort.   I feared this, as I know so many parents who’ve lost sleep, wasted gas, or called every store they walked into in order to find that one item their child needs in order to function properly.   I am beyond thankful that we did not go that route, but now it seems that we must travel down another road so many parents have already been on.

This afternoon I asked Davey about soccer.   He’s playing again and while my husband and I are beyond thrilled that he at least stays on the field this year, we’re still a little annoyed with his inability to get in there and actually play the game.  He follows the players, but doesn’t try to get the ball.   When the ball comes his way, he starts kicking it, but then immediately has it stolen away (as should be done) by another player which in turn forces him to start crying, or just give up completely.   My frustration abounds as it is not in my nature to cry about something, much less to just give up.  So, this inability to understand has led to a conversation about soccer, which led to Davey only answering if I asked the question to Ironman FIRST.

Davey has an Ironman doll.   He’s not totally attached to it, not in the way that the world is coming to end if he leaves it as his Mimi’s overnight.   No, his attachment comes and goes with Ironman, but for some reason he feels that he needs to now have Ironman with him everywhere he goes.   He feels that he needs Ironman’s strength to do the hard stuff and I’m a ok with that, a little annoyed, but ok with it.

So, as I asked him questions about soccer, I had to ask them in this way, “Ironman, if you go to soccer with Davey tomorrow, do you think he will try hard to get the ball?”  Davey then looks at Ironman and says, “tell Mommy that I will play harder if you come with me.”   I’m sitting here shaking my head as I type out this conversation, my mouth in a bit of a grimace that I’m now being forced to use Ironman, an inanimate $15 piece of plastic doll, as an intermediary in my conversations with Davey.  I can’t wait till his dad has to do the same!  (Insert a devious laugh as I know my husband will begrudgingly do this, but roll his eyes and grit his teeth)

Apparently, taking Ironman to soccer is only the beginning because now Ironman must also go to church tonight to help him with the memory of his Bible Verses and to school tomorrow.   Look, I know Ironman is crazy smart and has super human strength…he’s a superhero after all, I just find it annoyingly humorous that he is now forced to serve as a middle man in a four year old’s conversations with his parents.

 

Just Keep Running, Just Keep Running

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I say this not only to myself, but also to Davey, and I do it in my best Dory voice.  You know?  From Finding Nemo.

I’m a runner.  Not as much as I used to be, but I still do it.  The older I’ve become, the more my body likes to remind me of that age.  My hips crack and pop, my knees occasionally groan and lately I’ve begun to suffer from a thing called plantar fasciitis, a lovely little heel pain I was graced with while training for a half marathon last year.

I run because I like it.  I run because it keeps me from getting too fat.  I run because I want to be able to have energy and stay in shape so I can get out in the back yard with my boys.

My parents weren’t exactly active when I was a kid.  They were active in the sense of, there’s yard work to be done, grass to be mowed, a garden to be tended and toilets to be scrubbed.  I suppose that you can burn calories that way thereby preventing a gross exaggeration of your beltline, but my parents didn’t exercise.   Occasionally, my dad would get out in the front yard with us and play baseball.   And by “play”, I mean he would pitch, but for every ball we hit, WE (my brother and I) had to go get it.

I remember our neighbors two houses down used to run together in the evenings.  The four of them would come home, change into their running clothes, and hit the pavement before dinner.   I thought that was the coolest thing, but I wasn’t a seasoned runner back then, and of course neither were my parents.   Back then, I thought you just went all out and began running.  Not so, I’ve learned as I’ve become older.

In the spirit of the fact that most schools seem to be doing away with PE classes, I’ve decided to find ways to keep my boys active.   Davey has played soccer the past two seasons and will play it again this fall.  He just started up t ball, as you all saw in a couple of posts ago.   Henry hasn’t quite made it to those stages yet which is a bummer for me.  Davey; however, has the energy of the Energizer Bunny which I adore and I would love to find a way to keep him as active as possible, so I decided to let him run his first ever race this past Friday.  In hindsight, perhaps last Friday wasn’t the best day to let him attempt to follow in my footsteps.

I registered my husband and me for a 5k.   They’re usually pretty easy peasy for me, since I run a minimum of 4 miles and bike upwards to 20 miles (you can’t really tell that by the looks of my body).   Being a born and raised Southern girl, one would think my body is already conditioned to the blistering heat and smothering humidity.  Not so.  Friday night’s race was run in 95 degree weather at 6:30, when the humidity had the opportunity to find its resting place and just perch.   I was miserable and for once I didn’t care what my time was.   I just wanted to not die, so I could only imagine how my son and husband were faring, seeing as how my husband doesn’t run.  Well, it started a little something like this.

We all started at the back of the pack, but I quickly worked my way through the crowd and left my boys behind me.  I ran the course, finished it and then turned around to find my boys.   Aunt Erin was pushing Henry in his stroller and had set a pretty good pace, so she finished it ahead of Dave and Davey.   When I finally came across the two of them, Davey was atop his daddy’s shoulders, his face flushed and his hair sopping wet.  My husband, not to be outdone by Davey’s waterfall of sweat, was just as drenched if not more so.   I asked how they did and my husband informed me of Davey’s “all out” mentality.

Davey started the race at full speed ahead, running as fast as he could go, at times making it a bit difficult for my husband to keep up with him.  He made it a quarter of a mile before deciding he needed his water, which Aunt Erin had in the stroller.  Instead of waiting for her to catch up, he ran back to her.   There’s a full half a mile in the books.

Once he felt sufficiently hydrated, he began running again, treating the race as if it were a 50 yard dash.  Needless to say, he pretty much hit a wall by the time he reached the halfway point of the 3 mile race.   He finally just sat down on the side of the road and in one of his best Emmy performances to date, flailed his arms and sighed, following it with an “I just can’t go any further” statement.  That’s when my husband decided to carry him.

I’m proud of Davey.  He’s not even 4 yet and he participated in a 5k, on possibly one of the hottest days on record.   He didn’t run the entire race, but he did a lot more than the majority of Americans can do.  Fortunately for me, this one little event hasn’t turned him off of racing.   I have him signed up for a 1 mile kids race in October, in the morning, when the climate will be much more conducive to running.

I asked him how he felt afterwards and he said, “tired, but I did like Dory does, mommy, but I didn’t keep swimming.   I kept running.”   Good job, Davey!

We all finished!
We all finished!

Take Me Out To The Ball Game

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We just started a new adventure with Davey…t-ball!

From the start, my husband and I decided that we would encourage our boys to participate in everything extracurricular.   This doesn’t mean they must choose one thing, nor does it mean that we’ll push our dreams or visions onto either one of them.  We just want both of them to have the opportunities to explore, to play, and to learn the value of teamwork.

Stretching before practice.
Stretching before practice.

Up to this point, Davey’s only foray into the sports world has been soccer.   He’s played 2 seasons of it and is already registered for a 3rd season.   He’s not much of a player on offense, but he’s definitely learned his role as a goalie.   I was amazed at his persistence and resiliency last season as he blocked goal after goal after goal.

As with anything we endeavor in with our boys, my husband and I have learned to not have any expectations, at least not now.   Henry has yet to have the opportunity to play in sports, but Davey is still young and learning.   I may have once harbored some dream somewhere of having an all star athlete in Davey, but reality set in and I just want him to have fun and to have the opportunity to decide what he wants to do.

practicing his run around the bases.
practicing his run around the bases.

So, with two seasons of soccer under our belt, I decided to enroll Davey in his first season of t-ball.   We’ve practiced with him in the backyard, determined that he may be a switch hitter, and have encouraged him to participate.   He’s still learning how best to catch a ball and who he should throw it to when catching it.   Our expectations; however, are extremely low.

waiting on a ball to be hit his way.
waiting on a ball to be hit his way.

Tuesday we kicked off his t-ball season with his first practice.   He was adamant about wearing his cleats, the same ones he wears for soccer, and needing a baseball cap.  I tried to encourage his NY Yankees cap, but he kept deferring to his Buffalo Bills cap.   To each his own.

We had a nice little discussion of the need for him to NOT run around on the field, to listen to his coach, and to play nicely with the other boys on his team.  We’ve had this same discussion before each soccer practice and game, but it’s never sunk in.   This time something seemed to click.

ready for another opportunity to catch the ball.
ready for another opportunity to catch the ball.

I watched as my boy listened intently to his coach, stretched before practice, ran the bases, and learned how best to catch the ball.   I kept my mouth shut for once, not wanting to interfere or distract him.   I hung back and clicked away with my camera and watched in awe at how my once little boy now looked like a big boy ball player.

He went into the outfield and tipped his cap up to wipe his forehead before pulling it back down using the bill of the cap.  He then slid his glove on his left hand, balled up his right fist and punched into the palm of the glove, insuring that it was indeed fitting and in place.   Then he leaned over, knees slightly bent, and held out his glove, ready to catch (or attempt to catch) any ball that headed his way.   Boy, did he look like a real ball player.

the ball that rolled between his legs. he'll get it.
the ball that rolled between his legs. he’ll get it.

I watched as the kids hit the balls off the tee, with some balls heading in Davey’s direction.  He hustled to grab a couple of them, but at other times seemed content to just stand his ground and allow for others to get the ball.  One ball rolled between his legs as he tried to snatch it up, but he immediately turned around and hightailed after it.

Finally, it was his turn to be up to bat.  For a couple of moments, there was a bit of uncertainty as I explained to his coach that we are unsure as to whether Davey is a lefty or not.   Once we decided on letting him hit left handed, he took his first swing, missing the ball by a couple of inches.   The next swing he hit the tee, but by the third swing he had a good solid base hit.

first time at bat.
first time at bat.

After hitting the ball, he stood there for a moment unsure of what to do next until his coach nudged him along to 1st base.   I watched with pride as my boy, both hands placed firmly atop his helmet to keep it in place, ran as fast as he could to 1st base.   With the next hitter, he had the opportunity to advance to second and again I chuckled as he held tightly to his helmet and tagged second.

second time at bat
second time at bat

My husband didn’t get the opportunity to watch Davey practice, but I took a bunch of pictures.  Last night, Dave and I sat down and looked at the pictures as I explained how well Davey did.

third time's the charm.
third time’s the charm.

“He looks sharp, doesn’t he?” my husband asked.   I saw the smile beaming across his face and could feel the pride swelling up inside of him.   My husband is a HUGE baseball fan and he’d sure be happy to have one or both of his boys playing baseball.   Soccer hasn’t really done anything for my husband.  It’s not a sport he played, nor is it one he followed.   Baseball is American’s past time.   It’s a good Saturday afternoon, eating a hot dog and peanuts, sort of adventure.

running to 1st base.
running to 1st base.

Davey has one more practice next week before starting the regular season.   Don’t worry, I plan to keep you all updated on his games.

Hey, batter, batter, batter, batter.  Swing, batter!

He is The New Clint Dempsey

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Last night marked Davey’s first foray into a team sport. He’s not three for another month and technically he’s not supposed to play until his three, but being the aggressive, fighting mother that I am, I fought to get him into the fall soccer league at the Y.

Yesterday started out much like any other day. We ate breakfast, got dressed, and went to the Y for my morning workout. When we pulled into the parking lot, the employees were busy setting up the toddler nets and spraying painting the freshly mowed fields. Davey’s comment, “they’re getting it ready for meeee.” And yes, he did draw out that “me”. Adorable, I know!

Warm Up

After leaving the Y, nothing more was said about soccer. I suppose it was just another thing that flitted out of his mind as he moved onto something else. Me? Not the case. I was excited all day. I practically couldn’t even eat as I watched the clock tick down and I ran through the check list of things I would need to bring. With each passing hour, this thought came into my head, “I’m a soccer mom.” How exciting!

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I’ve looked forward to a day like this for quite some time. I’ve dreamed about the activities Davey would participate in when he got older, whether that be sports, academics, music, or whatever his heart desires. I’ve become lost in thought about how I would (and will) shuffle him through to all of his activities. I haven’t stressed about it, but instead I’ve longed for it. I’m not sure why.

As the hour of his first practice arrived, I put him in his soccer gear, and watched as he ran around the front yard in his cleats proclaiming to me, “mommy, I’m going to be the fastest.” Way to set a goal, my son! I’m proud of you. When my husband pulled into the driveway, the boys and I were already loaded into the truck and ready to go. Was I nervous? For the first time, YES!

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I panicked for a few minutes about how well he would fit in with the other kids. I worried that he wouldn’t pay attention to his coach, or that he would want to sit with me, or that he would become too aggressive. All of my worries were completely unfounded. Not only is my boy a natural athlete (something he gets from his father, not me), but he’s also a true team player.

He scored three goals. The coach commented on his strong leg and how well he runs (dribbles) the ball. Atta boy, Davey! He stretched with the kids, cheered his teammates on when they scored, and even refused to shove a little girl back when she shoved him. I’m a little torn on that as I don’t want him to just stand by idly while other kids beat up on him, but I am proud that something is seeping through with my teachings in that we don’t hit or shove others.

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All in all, last night was a huge success. I’m pleased with Davey and how well he did for an hour. And as a side note…I fought for my baby to get into the fall season and his attention span is better than some of the other three and four year olds and HE’S THE BIGGEST ON HIS TEAM. I shouldn’t be so shocked about that, but I am considering the fact that he’s surrounded by kids a year older than him (some almost 2), and he’s so tall.

Time will tell just how well he’ll do, so until next week we’ll just bask in the glory of the huge accomplishment from last night.

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