Since the inception of this website Ive had increasing numbers of self-proclaimed AntiSoccermoms approach me with their stories. It is fantastic to meet like minded people and I would like to encourage you to tell your own story, if not on your own blog, than here on this one. Feel free to write me and let me know how you are being an AntiSoccermom.

 The 6 Steps to being an AntiSoccermom

6. Wear the badge of mommyhood with honor, ditch the mom-jeans. 

A combination of sleep deprivation and a lack of anything freedom-related led me to believe as a young mother it was okay to wear sweatpants to the store despite the breast-milk stains and baby puke. The ability to care for an ill-tempered tiny person overcame the ability to care for myself and I found that little would calm my tanking self-esteem like a good shopping spree and the occassional massage. Just because you are a mom, doesnt mean you have to look like one. Ditch the mom-jeans and spend a little time doing something you love. It makes you a happier, healthier and ultimately a more awesome mom.

5. Who Cares what they think?

If I had to choose to free climb Mt. Everest or spend half an hour with the moms from my kids PTA, I bet you can guess where I’d rather put my energy. Moms, especially in packs, can be an incredibley cruel and daunting experience to undertake and I avoid it at all costs. There is an ugly unspoken mob mentality between soccermoms and antisoccermoms, akin to the highschool cliques of cheerleader vs. drama geek. Much like highschool, the best thing to do is to ignore these condescending "super moms." They will sneer at everything from your choice of coffee to what your children are wearing, their homes are often spotless and their outfits spectacularly in style. They will have the latest hair styles and the nicest SUV’s but their husbands never make it to school functions and they are always flirting with the new PE teacher. Like Wyclef says, Dont believe the hype. There is no such thing as a perfect mom and you don’t have to try to be one. If you can’t shake off their negativity, do what I do and justify their perfection as a clear lack of sexual satisfaction in their lonely and desolate lives. It makes the drama easier to swallow, but Id still take that 8,850 meter trek through the icey wilderness.

4. Despite common practice, Let logic rule.

No one can see through bullshit faster than a pre-teen. Don’t believe me? Lie to a child and see how quickly they call you on it. Instead of sugar-coating this ugly world for your perfect little angel, why not introduce them to a little place called reality? They dont need to win every game of UNO to build their precious self-esteem, in fact, coddling them that way just results in an adult that no one can please. AntiSoccermoms raise their children with honesty. My kids know they get the real deal when they ask questions and because of that they aren’t standing with their little paws out waiting for their golden ticket in life. Be truthful with your kiddos, they know it when you aren’t.

3. So what if he’s acting like a child?

Everyone in the house takes turn acting like a two year old, even the two year old. Problem is, all kids want to grow up faster than they should. Why not allow them to actually retain their priceless sense of childhood wonderment? Embrace the mental age of your children and allow them to spread their little wings on their own time. Healthy relationships are built around experience, dont thwart your children by pressuring them in to the next age bracket. You will be grateful for the chance to slow time just a little and watch your kiddos blossom in front of you. Its all about realistic expectations and letting your kids be who they really are.

2.  Love your children, but not too much.

Ayelet Waldman got a truckload of flack for announcing to the world that she loves her husband more than she loves her children. First, let me say that I think this is healthy and a positive approach to parenting. Second, who cares what the haters say? Loving your children is easy, providing a stable home life is a bit more difficult. Kids should be pretty high on your list of priorities, maybe even third, but you should come before them and so should your spouse. Happy homes breed happy children. If you aren’t happy, your kids wont be so find the one that does it for you and cleave to them. It makes the screaming, crying and inevitable meltdowns so much easier to take when you have someone on your side.

1. Be you. Get yours. 

Here’s a secret. Your husband misses the person he married. Your friends miss the fun loving girl who looked like she gave a damn and let’s face it, You miss You, Right?

The first step to being an AntiSoccermom is to remember who you actually are. Kids are great and can lend an incredible amount of depth to your lifestyle, but its important to retain some sense of personal pride in yourself. Do the things that made you feel great before having kids, and keep doing them after those little monsters come around and suck up all your free time. In finance they tell you to pay yourself first, in parenting, get yours before they get theirs. It may sound cruel, and I know it sounds selfish, but it isnt as bad as you think. Happy moms have happy kids.

 

What do you think? Are you an Antisoccermom?

 

© 2009, AntiSoccermom. All rights reserved to the original author unless stated otherwise.

There I was washing the food gunk off the high chair from dinner when it happened. Now don’t get me wrong, I trust Baby Daddy with his own child, I really do. It’s just that when the baby is in the bathtub and I can hear him talking on the phone, I kind of get that feeling that he isnt paying AS close of attention as I might be. So there I am, standing at the sink when I hear it happen. It starts with some slight murmurring, thats dad on the phone, and then splashing, which is Weasel in the tub. The entire house goes dead quiet and for a minute, I panic. I immediately have mommy-vision which always includes the death of my child in some impossibly illogical manner. So dead silence, mommy-vision of the baby drowning in the tub, and then I hear giggling. My son is giggling in the bathtub. This can only mean one thing. I listen intently, to accurately gauge where the rest of my family is located in the house. I suppose this has something to do with that sixth sense that all moms have, the same reason your mother always knew what was going on behind her back. My super low-tech sonography pays off, and I hear dad in the hallway pacing back and forth. I also hear him enter the bathroom doorway and scream. He screamed, literally, like a woman. All high pitched like he’d been kicked in the junk. Ours is a happy baby, but bowel movements make him ESPECIALLY happy. My child, like some zoo bound APE took it upon himself to crap in the bathtub. Oh no friends, this isnt the end of this story. He not only crapped in the tub, he then picked it up, with the same fingers I so lovingly kissed mere moments before, and he threw it at his father. My child threw feces at his father. The screaming subsided, and pleas of “GET ME SOME BLEACH” were made. Though when I rounded the corner to see this amazing display of father/son drama unfolding, I wasn’t holding bleach. I was holding the video camera. The resulting video is mainly of me giggling, and the camera being pointed directly at the floor while my life was being threatened. Don’t judge, I would have done the SAME thing had I been the one to take human feces to the shoe(the kid isnt a very good aim, thank god.) I was told I could never air the video(fingers crossed!) and I swore that I wouldn’t (watch my youtube feed) ever put it up on the internet.(still searching for that loophole.) Not a whole lot can shock me. This is why I blog, mostly because I am totally shameless. But this, this one is a little unnerving. Maybe we change Weasel’s nickname?

© 2009, AntiSoccermom. All rights reserved to the original author unless stated otherwise.