Mindless Mom

My son got a hold of our digital camera a couple days ago and starting zooming around the house taking picture after picture.  It took him a total of 12 seconds to figure out how to take a picture, review a picture, and delete a picture.  I made a mental note to remember that the next time I purchase an electronic device.  Screw reading directions in French. 

He started with still shots - chair legs, Transformers on couch cushions, cupcakes we had just made and ate.  He worked his way up to portraits and action shots.  He nabbed a shot of his baby sister climbing the stairs when no one was looking.  He captured his three-year-old sister licking the frosting off of not only her cupcakes, but everyone else’s cupcakes too.  Which in turn meant that he was able to catch me removing the three-year-old from the dining room table while she kicked and screamed bloody murder for the “wast cupcake wif spwinkles”.  Ain’t happening sister.  Time to call it quits at a baker’s dozen.

Next he ventured to the front door to capture the great outdoors.  He flashed the hanging basket on my porch, new grass growing on the front lawn, and got a nice shot of the neighbor’s yard.  By the end of his reel, I’d be lying if I didn’t say he was taking pretty decent pictures.  We even went head to head a couple times over ownership of a couple of the shots.  I swore up and down I took that picture of our youngest picking her nose.  But he wouldn’t budge, so I compromised for the picture of the crayon drawing on the wall that was Picasso’d three hours earlier.  One must not forget that precious moment in time.

By the end of the photo shoot, he had his technique down.  “Here mom, hold this book.  Now pretend you’re actually reading it.  No, no, no, not like that, tilt your head down a little more and then look this way.”  I quickly realized this is what I must sound like to every member of my extended family around the holidays.  Poor souls.

After I got my Senior portrait in the Study,  (by the way, we don’t have a study) the amateur photographer decided that it would be absolutely HYSTERICAL if he took a picture of my gut. 

“Mom, I’m going to get a picture of your belly”……followed by high-pitched hysterical laughing.  “Seriously, mom….I’m going to take a picture of your stomach.  That would be sooooo funny”.  Again…..the laughter ensued.  Next thing I know the camera flashed. 

Don’t worry, I wasn’t asked to pose.  If I had been asked, I would have thought about sucking my gut in……….in the event that the image crossed the desk of Sports Illustrated some day.  But by the looks of the picture, I must have arched my back and pretended I was pregnant.  Either that or the camera really does add 42 pounds. 

When Photo Man reviewed his final shot of the day he howled and howled for what seemed like hours.  I finally grabbed the camera from him and took a look for myself.  I couldn’t help but notice that my belly wasn’t quite the focal point of the image. 

When I asked him why he was laughing so hard he responded with “your belly is soo funny…………….it’s like you have two bellies”. 

I subtly deleted the image in between his howls and knee-slapping and prepped myself to discuss the difference between bellies and breasts. 

I’m officially a soccer mom.   My son has entered the world of organized (or not-so-organized) athletics.  For forty-five minutes a week for the next six weeks he gets to slap on some shin guards and run free.  Better translated, he gets to plant himself on a 30yd makeshift grass soccer field w/ miniature goals and run in a pack with other kids as they all chase after the one kid actually kicking the ball.   My personal favorite is when the kid with the ball breaks from the pack and none of the followers notice.  Oddly, the herd appears unphased when “GOAL” is shouted from across the field.   And yes, in case you’re wondering, my kid is usually in the herd.  But due to his inherited athletic abilities, he did score a goal this week!  And in true soccer mom fashion, once the goal crossed the line I was instantly transformed into a crazed fan, waving my arms in the air and screaming cheers of approval.  I’m pretty sure he’s destined to be the next Pele’ if my cheering has anything to do with it!  Don’t underestimate the power of encouragement…….hell, the kid wipes his own ass….don’t think that skill wasn’t acquired without lots and lots of cheering. 

So organized athletics comes with its fair share of entertainment on the field but the sidelines seem to provide just as much entertainment.  “Day One” let me in on the following family scenarios:

Full-Go Family    

This would be the family that is absolutely OBSESSED with winning no matter what.  Drills = Boredom.  They need goals scored and names attached.  These are the parents that walk around asking “Isn’t this a soccer game.  Why are they doing drills?  Did the game start?”  They need assists counted and penalty kicks clearly marked.  These are the families that walk away from the game and begin listing the 7,345,550 things their kid can do “better” next time without taking a breath.   Meanwhile their five-year-old is stopping to pick up the dandelions fifteen feet downwind of the “pep talk”.  Disconnect anyone?

Social Family

This family doesn’t really care what event they are at, as long as they were the first to sign their kid up.  Actually they probably coordinated the sign-up sheets and assigned teams.  They bring lawn chairs, snacks, goodies, checkbooks to update, cell phones that they repeatedly answer, blankets and pillows - in the event that any siblings want to sprawl out and watch the portable television they brought.  They obnoxiously smile at EVERYONE who walks by in hopes of gaining popularity.  They point out their kid without being asked to.  “Billy’s the one in the blue shirt with the glasses.”  (Note to self:  No playdates with Billy)  These people set up camp on the sideline to resemble their living room and mingle with a mission.   These are the people that know just about everyone in the tri-county area.  If you’re not on the list, you’re bound to be stalked.

Glamour Family

This is the family that has gone out and purchased brand new top-of-the-line clothing attire and equipment.  Their kids are donning coordinating Nike shoes and shinguards, Adidas t-shirts that contain the same accent color as their shorts, and a newly unboxed, wrong-sized soccer ball.  Somewhere in the middle of this showy garbage is a five-year-old who’s never even seen a soccer ball, much less has any desire to play.  But damn does he look good running with the herd.  And he puts Billy’s blue shirt to shame, which secretly makes me smile. 

Semi-Normal Family

I like to throw my family in this group.  By no means are we normal.  But our five-year-old enjoys running around, likes being with other kids, and has seen a soccer ball in his lifetime.  We cheer for him when he’s good.  We cheer for his teammates when they score.  At the end of the game we tell him “good job” and move on to dinner at Burger King.  (Some of us have to eat!)  We are cordial to neighboring parents but don’t feel the need to schedule playdates or record stats.  We go because it’s fun, gets us outside, and who knows……..a future Pele’ may be in the works. 

 Strung Out Soccer Family Mom

This captures the family that typically is represented by one parent (primarily the mother) that can’t help but announce this is the 17th soccer game she’s been to in the last three days.  She leaves her mini-van running the entire forty-five minute session.  Four of her seven kids are on the sidelines whining for dinner.  One is straddling the field and the sidelines because he really has no desire to play soccer - which is obviously not an option for any member of this family.   The other two are taking turns running from the mini-van to the field while screaming “MOM!  Jack just kicked me.  Dad’s on the phone and wants to know what we’re having for dinner”.   This mom likes to look around at surrounding sideline parents with shrugged shoulders and rolled eyeballs as if she has no idea where these children came from.  Either that or she completely ignores all of her children and latches on to the closest adult in an attempt to hold adult conversation - something that she doesn’t participate in throughout the other 167 hours of the week.

There you have it - a well-rounded playing field, er…I mean sideline. 

Let the games begin.