As a sports mom, I invest a significant chunk of my life in three main activities: sleeping, pondering dinner plans, and cheering from the sidelines at my kids’ various sports events, whether it’s soccer, basketball, or lacrosse. With countless hours spent watching these games, I often find myself diving deep into thoughts—sometimes profound, sometimes just plain silly. And let’s be honest, where else can I indulge in a pack of Sour Patch Kids without being judged?
While I genuinely love watching my kids compete, after attending my 1,038th game of the season, it becomes increasingly difficult to stay fully engaged. My mind tends to wander, leading to thoughts like:
Why are we always assigned to the furthest field from the parking lot?
I forgot my blanket again! Oh wait, it’s in the car, but the dog threw up on it. Should I retrieve it? No, ew. Only if it gets really cold.
This chair is beyond uncomfortable.
Why is it that I always choose the broken chair? I’ll just have to sit here until everyone leaves, hoping nobody notices my struggles. Seriously, my knees are nearly touching my chin. Just smile; no one can tell.
How old are those kids on the opposing team?
They look massive. That one kid definitely isn’t ten—does he have a mustache? He looks like he could drive here himself. And perhaps grab a beer on the way home. Ha, funny me! I could go for a beer, even though I don’t usually drink it.
I genuinely love this sport.
Do I have cankles?
Am I the only one still wearing capris? Clearly, I need to hit the shops. Though wait, that other mom pulls them off well. She’s probably into barre or pilates.
Is there a bar nearby?
How many minutes did my child actually play?
Three? Maybe I should get an app to track this. But do I even use apps? Mmm, apps… like buffalo chicken dip. Not edamame, though—those are just trendy lima beans.
Was that a raindrop?
I hope so.
Wow, that guy is loud.
Oh wait, that’s my husband. He’s not a jerk; I must be tired.
Is that a bee?
I can’t escape my chair! IS THAT A BEE?!
It’s too chilly for spring.
I wish I had my blanket. I really need to wash it. Laundry, empty the dishwasher, and clean out the closets are all on my to-do list. And why is there always a mountain of papers on the kitchen table? We seriously need a new kitchen.
Is that my son out there?
What number is he? Why is that other kid always playing? Oh right, the coach’s son. He’s not great—but he just scored. Ball hog!
Wow, I completely missed a spot shaving.
Uh-oh, here comes someone to chat with me.
What’s her name? Think, think… What’s-her-name? Just look straight ahead.
I like her hair.
I hate mine.
Yep, definitely felt rain.
What should I prepare for dinner?
I absolutely dread making dinner. Do we even need to eat?
I need to go to the bathroom, but it’s quite a trek to those gross facilities.
There’s never toilet paper or hand towels. And why are there always spiders? I can hold it. After all, I’m stuck in this chair, and I can’t feel my legs.
Did I forget my fleece, hoodie, or raincoat again?
Go team!
Am I being too loud?
That definitely felt loud. I sounded like Rosie O’Donnell or Roseanne Barr.
Is there a bar nearby?
What’s my son’s number?
Do I really have to cook dinner?
How many times have we had pizza this week? We could have pizza again; it’s not that bad. Healthier than some options… like fried chicken or something worse.
Did my child just score?
Darn it, I missed it. I’ll just tell him I saw it. Great job, buddy! Oops, don’t call him “buddy.” Dude? No, not “dude” either.
What inning is it?
What quarter? What period? What day is it? That didn’t look like a foul. Is that rain? I think I felt rain again.
Did we really drive two hours to face this team?
I’m starting to hate this sport.
I could go for a bite of that guy’s pretzel.
Oh no, he’s looking at me. Did I say that out loud? Maybe he saw my cankles.
What’s the score?
I like her sunglasses; they make her look like Tina Fey. They’d probably make me resemble Tina Belcher.
Is that rain?
That ball was clearly out of bounds. What’s the score again?
She seems nice.
Forget it, she’s a screamer.
Is this game almost finished?
Where did I park? Where is my other kid? Where are you when I need you? Great, now I have Justin Bieber’s song stuck in my head.
I could really go for shrimp and linguine.
Wow, that’s random. With a glass of wine… now that sounds good.
What was that movie with Bruce Willis? Where is he now?
Did I even bring my other child?
Get out of my head, Justin. Do I hear thunder?
I should snap some photos.
Darn, memory full. Delete, delete, delete… oh, that’s cute! Delete, delete. What’s the score now?
Overtime? Oh no. Please, not that.
I really need to pee. Was that rain?
Please let that just be rain.
In summary, being a sports mom involves a whirlwind of thoughts, from mundane worries about comfort and dinner plans to humorous observations about the games and other parents. Amidst the chaos of cheering and wondering where my other child is, I find moments of reflection, light-heartedness, and a touch of reality, all while trying to make the best of each game day.
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