Lisha Cassibo has been writing for the Uxbridge Cosmos for two years, both as a freelancer and as a columnist. She has also written for several parenting magazines both here in Canada and for English publications in Switzerland. She graduated from Carleton University with an honours degree in Journalism and English Literature. She lives with her family in Sunderland.
Wishes do Eating humble pie
A couple of years ago I was in a play called "Secrets of a Soccer Mom". I played a mum who had an adoring husband, two kids, one of whom played soccer, and it was centred around a match between the mums and their school-aged boys. During the course of the "game" the three mums that were on the bench reflected a lot on life, love, and the pursuit of happiness, all the while trying to whup their sons' butts at soccer. By the time we, the mums, had scored the winning goal, we had all advanced considerably as human beings, and left the stage amazed at how much the game of soccer had taught us all about ourselves. During the course of the production's run, I was large on announcing, during rehearsals, backstage, etc., that really being a soccer mom was just one of three things that I would NEVER allow happen to me. The other two were owning a mini-van, and living in a cookie-cutter house in a suburb somewhere.
Now, before a load of you soccer-mom, mini-van-owning, 'burb-living mothers out there get all cross with me, know that I have been the proud owner of a mini-van (I'm on my second one, actually) for the past six-plus years. I love my van. So forgive me as I beg my first bite of humble pie. And I shall put down my fork as I explain why I soon need to take a second bite of said pie.
Many of you are, I am sure, aware that soccer season began in Uxbridge last week. And yours truly was there. What's more, I enjoyed it. It's early days, yet, but I think I'm already established as one of the more vocal, enthusiastic supporters of my daughter's team. Who knew six-year old soccer could be so engaging!
I don't know why I ever railed against these three stereotypes of motherhood. I have no solid rationale for my ignorance. Mini-vans are practical - fit lots of kids, lots of stuff, a really big dog, lots of groceries, and they're not a bad ride, either. (I have even replaced my dream of having a Jaguar XJS V12 convertible, burgundy, tan leather interior for a dream of having a current year Honda Odyssey, preferably with a grey interior, as I am heartily sick of tan at the moment, even with a new van). I also don't know why I never wanted to be a "soccer mom." Perhaps it's because I am not a sports lover in any way, shape or form. I despised being toted around to my brother's hockey games when I was younger. I remember sitting at the same soccer pitch my daughter now plays at, watching the sun go down, waiting for him to finish kicking around that stupid black and white ball. A brief stint with t-ball cured me of all things team-y.
When each of my daughters popped out, I secretly cheered that I was pretty safe from having to go to early morning hockey practices. A brief stint with ringette gave me a healthy respect for those who DO have to get up before God to cart their charges to games and practices hither and yon. None of my girls have shown any affinity for team sports, until now. I was surprised when my youngest announced that she wanted to play soccer, and I won't deny that part of me inwardly groaned, but that part quickly lost out to the fact that, if she wanted to try it, then darn it all, she was going to try it. Despite my loathing of all things that make one sweat, I sometimes worry that my children aren't involved in enough extra-curriculars, be it sports or otherwise. The older two have tried out for some school teams, sometimes making the team, sometimes not. And I'm certainly supportive of that. My middle daughter was born loving horses, but ever since a beloved instructor closed down her arena, it's been tough finding a riding school that she's just as taken with. So she's not riding right now, and it's breaking my heart. My eldest seems to have the most apathy for all things which require her to get her butt in gear. She takes piano, and gets math tutoring, and is just as happy to curl up on the sofa and watch TV (much to my chagrin). I don't want to force them to do anything they really don't fancy, but I don't want them to miss out on the great experiences of youth, either. They've never been to camp overnight, like with Guides or Brownies. Those were some of my best memories from when I was a kid.
I know I have to let them be who they are, and discover life and all its experiences on their own. If they want to try something, I will do my best to let it happen. If they're not interested, then I have to be okay with that. And if, somewhere along the way, they discover a passion, like horses, or ballet, or, heaven forbid, soccer, then nothing will make me happier. It's through all the various activities that are available to them that they will find out where their talents lie, what their strengths are, what their passions may be, and those are something that will carry them through life, whether as a profession, hobby, or a go-to when things get tough.
I will continue to toodle around in my mini-van going to soccer practice and dance rehearsal and piano lessons and riding lessons, and I will love it. I draw the line at a house in the 'burbs, though. I should be careful what I say - never know when I may be biting a third chunk of that pie...
