One day, as I drove my 8-year-old to soccer practice, it struck me: I might just be a soccer mom. You know the type—those suburban, middle-aged mothers who seem to become the face of every election cycle. I took a moment to reflect on my life, and the evidence was hard to ignore.
For starters, I have two kids, one of whom has a passion for soccer. I’ve surrendered to the allure of the minivan, now driving a vehicle that feels like it could double as a bus. My wardrobe consists heavily of yoga pants, and much to the dismay of my sister in New York, I occasionally pair sneakers with jeans. I traded the hustle and bustle of city life for a cozy home in a suburban school district. Shopping at Costco has become a regular activity—what was once absurd now feels practical, especially when stocking up on items like two gallons of peanut butter and ten whole chickens. My husband and I are even discussing the possibility of adopting a dog. I’ve been known to shout “slow down” at speeding cars on our street, and I must confess, I was genuinely thrilled to buy a new extra-large washer and dryer.
Suddenly, I found myself fitting into a stereotype I never thought I would. Growing up, I never identified with any specific group—be it tomboy, girly girl, goth, or nerd. I loved movies like The Breakfast Club, yet never felt like I belonged to any of those cliques. I was simply myself.
Before becoming a parent, I often scoffed at minivans and dreaded being stuck behind one on the road. I preferred living in run-down city apartments and spent my days exploring flea markets, dining at trendy restaurants, and enjoying late nights that turned into lazy mornings. I wanted kids, but my ideas about motherhood were vague at best.
Fast forward to my thirties when I married and had children. Time flew by, and before I knew it, I was a 40-year-old soccer mom. I spent an embarrassing amount of time fretting over this label, only to realize it didn’t define me. I still wear mismatched socks, view cooking as a chore, and relish the chance to lounge in pajamas until noon on weekends. I love traveling, reading, visiting museums, and yes, indulging in cold pizza for breakfast. My children have eclectic tastes, loving both NASCAR and opera. While Downton Abbey is among my favorite shows, so is The Walking Dead.
As time goes on, my core values have remained intact. Family, integrity, friendships, a love for the outdoors, and a belief in the importance of laughter were crucial in my twenties, and they still are now.
My brief midlife crisis has passed. The trappings of soccer mom life are merely part of motherhood, not the essence of who I am. As we navigate middle age, raising children, caring for aging parents, and balancing careers, we may appear as typical middle-aged individuals. But beneath that surface, our true selves persist. Years ago, my grandmother, then 78, told me she felt 25 at heart. Deep down, we all carry that youthful spirit.
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In summary, while being labeled a “soccer mom” might seem fitting at first glance, it doesn’t capture the essence of who I am. We all have our unique identities beyond stereotypes, and as we embrace our lives, we must remember that our true selves endure.
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