Tales from a reluctant “soccer Mum”

The first time one of my kids came home from school with a note saying they wanted to play an after school sport I was so excited.  Here it was, this was what I had been waiting for, I was about to become a Soccer Mum! Sure, it was an after school activity and I was going to be at work but I was going to move heaven and earth to make sure I was there, on the sidelines, with oranges and a drink bottle enthusiastically cheering my kid on.

I’m not into sports myself but the idea of my kids being involved was so exciting.  I would be there with my fold up chair in one hand, coffee in the other, cheering on my little boy and I couldn’t wait. This was about 6 years ago.

6:30am this morning my alarm went off, aaargh, it’s Saturday – who gets up this early on a Saturday. Oh, that’s right – Soccer Mums!!!

I’m not going to lie – over the course of the past 6 years, the enthusiasm has waned.  Sure, I still get excited if my kid touches the ball, but as each kid signs up for a different sport and you as the parent find you’re highly over-committed and every night after school plus weekends is spent at some kind of sport or training *sigh* this is getting too much.

And the games for some age groups are at the most unfriendly times.  Last week, in the middle of winter, we were at Under 10s basketball at 5.40pm – dinner time! By the time we finished up and left, it was 4 degrees Celsius on a clear and frosty night.  I was packing up 4 kids, one pram and millions of school bags into my car at 4 degrees – the same temperature my fridge is set to.

Ok back to today, I tell myself, I’m just going to rest my eyes for 5 more minutes in my warm comfy bed……. Huh, suddenly woken by the sound of a child laughing, I see daylight, OMG what’s the time –  7am ….. Shit, we’re now late.

Move it, move it, move it kids. We need to be out the door by 7.45am so Mummy can get her coffee and be half on the ball at this football game. Eat that Wheatbix as quick as you can but don’t spill it, I don’t want to come home to concrete Wheatbix on the kitchen bench.

7.30am – breakfast is finished. Oh, we might do this, we might get out the door on time.  Time to get dressed…….


8.05am we’re out the door – don’t ask, there were tantrums involved!

Sorry kiddos, Mummy still needs her coffee, just a quick trip through the drive thru coffee shop and we’ll be on our way……. *sigh* a line up….

I think the parenting equivalent of the walk of shame is rocking up late to your kids sport, walking from one side of the football field to the other with a take away coffee.

Do. Not. Make. Eye. Contact.

Lol, as if you can see my eyes, no matter if it’s sunshine or raining they’re permanently hidden under the biggest sunglasses I can find because, well, who has time for make up at this ungodly hour on a Saturday morning. Not me, that’s for sure.

Then the game begins and it’s not too bad, we cheer and clap, in between trying to keep the little kids off the wet grass and the baby off the field. Half time and I remember B2’s drink bottle is still sitting on the kitchen bench – it’s winter so that’s ok, right? Do you still need to drink in winter? Particularly if you’ve just been standing on the field without a touch because the ball didn’t make it to your end of the field – did he even move that half – I don’t think so. Oranges? Hahaha!

Game over and time to go home.  No kiddies, we’re not having a sausage sizzle at 9.45am OR lollies. Let’s pile our wet grassy feet and pram in the car and head home at a much more organised and leisurely manner than we arrived.

Saturday sport over and we can now get on with our day. It’s about this time of the morning that I’m thankful sport is early in the morning and now we have the rest of the day free.

And next year we are not going to over commit!

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