Officially, I am a “Soccer Mom”, admittedly, I do not fit this role well.  The Kid is 4 and has limited organized sports experience.  Limited as in, never having played real sports because I don’t think we can count “Sunshine League”.  That is an entire series of posts for another time.  Soccer is what The Kid has wanted to do since Dora wowed us all with her Super Soccer Kick.  Funny enough, when he decided that he was going to be a soccer player he also made it clear that I was going to be a Soccer Mom.  Those are his words, not even kidding.  He begged and pleaded and while I had no issue with him playing, he just wasn’t old enough.  I managed to slip him in past the birthday cutoff this year and was hopeful it wouldn’t be an issue. 

Who was I kidding?  We all have issues in this family.

If ever I wondered about The Kid’s attention span, well, this experience has confirmed that he doesn’t have one.  We’ve spent a few nights hanging our heads in shame as he goes through the Power Ranger imitations, talks to his buddies and runs off the field MID GAME to sit with a ponytailed blonde.  I do have to say, The Kid’s endurance has improved immensly since starting and he does have a genuine love for the game and that has been my only concern.  As long as he continues to love the game and the experience of playing, then I will continue being his Soccer Mom. 

I do have to say that I’ve had some moments of, well, full-on-frustration.  Not so much with him but with other parents.  Since this is his first real go at sports, I figure it’s for fun and since it’s only clinic, that we don’t have to worry about winning.  I wish others felt the same way.  Mothers shouting at their kids to be in position, get the ball, get out there and so on really do ruin the experience.  They also drown me out as I’m yelling for The Kid to stop picking grass, get the ball out of his shirt, pull his hands out of the net and to get out of the bushes. 

I mean, really, you’d think they could be more considerate especially when it’s a given that 15 minutes before the end of practice and games that they’re all picking grass, being chickens and looking at airplanes.  That’s how we know it’s almost time to go. 

I recently started a blog for my family.  Mind you, it was about 4 years later than I promised but I did it, what more do you want?  Anyway, in the process of setting up the page, I came across a dilemma.  Ok, not necessarily a dilemma but an annoyance that created a dilemma.  It also provided an opportunity for that ugly beast Hypocrisy to raise her head.  I know she’s a she.  Has to be, now just bear with me.

Anyways, I can only be so clever with what I have and what I have is a last name that is 4 letters long and easily found in a book.  Any attempts at brain power were thwarted by people who apparently have cyber-ADD.  I mumbled, muttered and moaned every time one of my cute and clever titles came back as “unavailable”.  As the female of the species is more inquisitive than the male, I proceeded to find out who had the audacity to take away my potential blog title.

Weeeeellllllllllll, it would seem that blog-making is a decision made on a whim and lasts no longer than the first post that details how the user is so excited to finally be on the web with one of those blog things that everyone is raving on.  Then nothing. Nada, zilch, zip, finito?  No, not finito because it’s still hanging there!  Blogs from January 2005 just taking up space with their lonely posts on standard issue templates.  It’s sad really.

So sad in fact that I became nostalgic and was reminded of this little place online called Vox.  I have a poor sense of direction and a short attention span.  This is how I found Vox. With one haphazard click, I begin a downward spiral that will end up pages and hours away from where I innocently started on a fairly regular basis.  Fairly regular being daily.

Since a great fear in life is being hypocritical I rushed over to Vox’s website and attempted to log in.  I just had one itsy problem and that is that I have neglected to remember the password, email account, screen name and so on and I guess that’s ok since I never even made the aforementioned introductory post.  At this point, Hypocrisy was sent to the naughty mat and I said “to hell with it” and dragged myself back over to Blogger which resulted in disaster.  The word hell was paired with the word handbasket and I had no choice but to delete and come to WordPress.  A certain level of anonymity is required here as you will soon understand. 

I have no idea what this blog will be for.  I make no promises other than I will ramble on to my own discontent.  I’m a happy person but I have issues and since I’m not ready to fix my own I worry more about the issues of those around me.  I have avoidance finessed in ways that some can only dream.

There was a time I would write and I have come to another time in my life where I need to write.  Unfortunately and I’m still concerned how this came to be but my personal writings became a burden to those around me.  Ironically those around me were the ones driving me to write.  They felt I needed to express myself since they could see the stress literally boring an infectious path through my insides.  So I wrote and they didn’t like what they read, in some cases without permission, and told me that I had no right.

Maybe tomorrow we can talk about my guilt.