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Am I a Soccer Mom?
Updated: July 9, 2020
Originally Published: May 12, 2005
One afternoon, while driving my 8-year-old to soccer practice, a realization struck me: I fit the mold of a soccer mom—a familiar stereotype of the suburban, middle-aged mother who often finds herself in the spotlight during election seasons.
I paused to evaluate my life against this label, and the evidence was compelling. I have two children, one of whom is a budding soccer player. I surrendered to the allure of the minivan and now drive a vehicle that is nearly the length of a football field. My wardrobe has become dominated by yoga pants, and to my sister’s chagrin, I sometimes pair them with jeans and tennis shoes. Years ago, I chose to leave urban life behind for a home in a desirable suburban school district. My shopping habits have shifted to include bulk purchases at Costco—two gallons of peanut butter and ten whole chickens now seem sensible rather than excessive. My husband and I even find ourselves contemplating pet ownership. I have yelled “slow down” at speeding cars in our neighborhood. Perhaps most telling is my genuine excitement over acquiring a new extra-large washer and dryer.
For the first time, I find myself fitting into a pre-defined category. Growing up, I never identified strongly with any one stereotype—I was not a tomboy or a girly girl, a nerd or part of the popular crowd. Like many from my generation, I appreciated The Breakfast Club but couldn’t see myself in any of the characters. I exhibited traits from various labels, but never embodied one fully.
Before becoming a mother, I had a disdain for minivans and would avoid driving behind them whenever possible. I lived in a series of dilapidated apartments in the city, eager to escape the suburban lifestyle I now find myself entrenched in. I spent minimal time in those apartments, traveled frequently, shopped at flea markets, and dined at trendy restaurants. My weekends were filled with late nights and even later mornings, and my kitchen was equipped with only one pot and one pan, which I hardly knew how to use. Although I always knew I wanted children, my vision of motherhood was vague at best.
I married and started a family in my thirties, and before I knew it, I woke up at age 40, labeled a soccer mom. I spent an inordinate amount of time grappling with what this designation meant, but eventually, I recognized it for what it was: a label, not a definition. I still wear mismatched socks, view cooking as a chore, and indulge in lazy weekend mornings in my pajamas. I cherish travel, love reading, frequent museums, and eat cold pizza for breakfast whenever the opportunity arises. I am raising children with eclectic tastes—they appreciate both NASCAR and opera. While Downton Abbey ranks among my favorite shows, The Walking Dead shares that honor.
Time has not fundamentally shifted my core values. Family, faith, integrity, friendships, a love for the outdoors, and the enjoyment of life remain paramount. These principles were essential in my twenties and continue to guide me today.
My midlife crisis was fleeting; my soccer mom identity is merely a facet of motherhood, not the entirety of who I am. This realization likely resonates with many—approaching middle age brings the responsibilities of parenting, caring for aging parents, advancing in careers, and planning for retirement. As our bodies start to show signs of aging, we might seem like typical middle-aged individuals. Yet, beneath the surface of age and obligation, our true selves persist.
Years ago, my grandmother, then 78, shared that she still felt 25 at heart. I believe this sentiment holds true for all of us.
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Summary:
In reflecting on my identity as a soccer mom, I’ve realized that while I might exhibit some stereotypical traits, they do not define who I am. My core values and interests remain unchanged despite the societal expectations of motherhood. This journey of self-discovery highlights the complexities of parenting and individual identity.