Updated: November 25, 2020
Originally Published: April 17, 2016
I find myself spending about a third of my life asleep, another third contemplating dinner ideas, and the final third on the sidelines of youth sports, cheering for my children during their soccer, basketball, lacrosse, or football games. All this time spent on the field offers me a chance to engage in some profound reflection—maybe even a bit of soul-searching. Oh, and it’s the perfect excuse to indulge in a pack of Sour Patch Kids, as it’s not often adults get a free pass to enjoy candy without being judged.
I genuinely love watching my kids play, even if they sometimes sit on the bench, but let’s be real; after attending game number 1,038 of the year, it can be challenging to stay fully engaged. So, my mind tends to wander like this:
- Why must we always be stationed at the furthest field from the parking lot?
- I can’t believe I forgot the blanket again. Oh wait, it’s in the car, but the dog was sick on it. Should I brave it? Ew, no. Only if it gets extra cold.
- These bleachers are terrible.
- Why do I always end up with the rickety one? I might as well stay put until everyone else leaves; I’m pretty sure my backside is melting into the seat. Just smile—no one will notice.
How old are the kids on the opposing team? They’re enormous. That kid can’t possibly be ten. Does he have a mustache? He looks capable of driving himself here and stopping for beer on the way. That’s hilarious. I’m hilarious. I could really go for a beer, even though I don’t usually drink it.
I absolutely love this sport.
Do I have cankles?
Am I the only one still wearing capris? I need a shopping spree; they’re not flattering on anyone. Well, that mom looks good in capris. She probably does yoga or something.
I wonder if there’s a bar nearby.
How many minutes did my child actually play? Three? I should download an app to track playing time, but I never use those. Mmm…apps…like buffalo chicken dip—yum, except not edamame. Just trendy lima beans.
Was that a raindrop? Is that rain? I hope that’s rain.
Wow, that guy is loud. What a jerk. Oh wait, that’s my husband. He’s not a jerk; I must be exhausted.
Is that a bee? Can’t escape this chair! IS THAT A BEE?!
It’s too chilly for spring. I wish I had that blanket. I must wash it. I need to do laundry. I should empty the dishwasher, clean the closets, and sort through that pile of papers on the kitchen table. We need a new kitchen table. Maybe even a new kitchen. Should we move?
Is that my son? What number is he? Why is that other kid always on the field? Oh, right, the coach’s son. Not great, but he just scored. Ball-hog.
Wow, I definitely missed a spot while shaving—like my entire left leg, and right too.
Uh-oh, she’s coming over to talk to me. What’s her name again? Whatshername-whatshername… What is it?! Look straight ahead.
I admire her hair. I hate my hair.
I really felt rain.
What’s for dinner? I despise making dinner. Do we even need dinner?
I need to use the restroom. It’s a long trek to the bathroom, and those restrooms are disgusting. No toilet paper, no hand towels. Why are there always spiders? I can hold it. I’m stuck in this chair anyway; I can’t feel my legs.
Can’t believe I forgot my fleece again. Go team!
Am I yelling too much? That was loud, like Rosie O’Donnell or Roseanne Barr.
Is there a bar near here? What’s my son’s number?
Do I have to make dinner? How many times have we had pizza this week? We can do pizza again; it’s not that bad—healthier than fried chicken or crack.
Did my child just score? Darn, I missed it. I’ll tell him I saw it. Great job, buddy! Oops, don’t say “buddy.” Dude? Don’t say dude.
What inning is it? What quarter? Period? What day? That wasn’t a foul. Is that rain? I think I felt rain. Hope that was rain.
Did we really drive two hours for this match? I hate this sport.
I could go for a bite of that guy’s pretzel. Oops, he’s staring at me. Did I say that out loud? Maybe he’s looking at my cankles.
What’s the score? I like her sunglasses; they make her look like Tina Fey. They’d probably make me look like Tina Belcher.
Is that rain? That was definitely out of bounds. What’s the score?
She seems nice. Never mind, she’s a screamer.
Is the game almost over? Where did I park? Where is my other child? Where are you when I need you? Where are you now? Ugh, now I’ve got Justin Bieber stuck in my head.
I could really go for shrimp and linguine. Wow, that’s random. With a glass of wine… Now we’re talking. Wasn’t “Look Who’s Talking” a movie? Who was in it? Bruce Willis. Where are you, Bruce?
Did I even bring my other child? Where are you, where are you… Get out of my head, Justin. Is that thunder?
I should take some pictures. Darn, memory full. Delete, delete… oh cute! Delete, delete. What’s the score?
Overtime? Oh no. Please, no. I really need to pee. Was that rain? Please let that be rain.
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In summary, navigating the world of youth sports as a mom often leads to a whirlwind of thoughts, distractions, and a need for comfort snacks. While the games can be exhausting, they also provide a unique backdrop for reflection and humor in the chaos of parenting.