The Poor Mom Revolution

I remember growing up playing sports. Anything and everything, I’d dive in head first and give it my all. Whether it was gymnastics, soccer, basketball, softball, volleyball, even rec kickball for a hot second… I’d practice, work hard and enjoy it. I made some of my best friends playing sports and realize now how much that time and team atmosphere made me better as a person, friend and competitor.

The high school bus rides with my best friends on my way to a softball or volleyball game was something I’ll never be able to recreate. The windows down and hair flailing in the wind. The arm pump at trucks driving by just praying for a honk to make our day. The selfies and photo ops with the disposable cameras getting tossed from seat to seat. And of course never forgetting the screaming at the top of our lungs at our favorite songs on the radio while receiving the side eye from our bus driver in the big mirror. We were a tight knit group that worked hard together, fought and bickered at times, but suffered through boot camp in preseason and wouldn’t allow any of us to give up on each other.

I couldn’t wait for the kids to try out different things. My son tried and fell in love with soccer, and has branched out with jujitsu and basketball. My daughter has tried gymnastics, dance, soccer, cheerleading, yoga, art and music… and has circled back to enjoying soccer and learning the saxophone. All of these activities have helped them find out who they were, experiment with things they enjoyed and weren’t fond of, while building connections with other kids with similar interests.

When the kids were younger, I felt alone in the whole mom thing. I had nowhere to go and didn’t have many friends that were in the same position I was in. I was always hoping to meet someone at preschool pickup to have a coffee with or to meet up at the local gym. I couldn’t wait until they started sports and activities for the same reason. Just watching and waiting. I knew as they got older, I’d eventually find my crowd and those that made practices better and game days exciting. With the laughter, chit chatting and where hot mess vibes ran deep. Where we each take turns forgetting a bag, water bottle, chair, sock or even the wrong color jersey! Always catching up on the week and not feeling so alone. My parents were the same way and are still friends to this day with parents of kids my little brother played soccer with. When you’re practicing multiple times per week, running from one game to another, needing to carpool through the crazy… you find like minded people that get it and help you through it.

I have to be honest that I was a little nervous about moving up to the mountains. Now don’t get me wrong, this is where I’ve always wanted to be and I don’t think I’ll ever move from up here. It’s quiet, beautiful and has always been my dream. It’s so hard to meet people and have good, quality mom friends. It was hard in the suburbs when I was right next to everybody and things were so close together, so of course I’d be nervous being half an acre away from everybody else. I always remembered carpooling with friends and loving that time together. With everyone up here living 10-15 minutes apart and the field almost 25 minutes away… carpooling just isn’t an option for most of us. Not to take a break for a day and catch up around the house or for any of the parents to help each other out more than a fluke or one off. It does add some additional complications when you’re chauffeuring your kids around hours at a time 5-6 days a week. It’s a lot!

Even so, watching my kids build those relationships with their teammates is such a cool thing to watch. As they fall, trip or tumble, there is always someone to hold out a hand and help them up. When someone misses a goal, they all pat each other on the back and get back into playing harder than before. They congratulate each other whether they win or lose knowing they played hard.

I’m pretty competitive and always have been. My kids have followed in my footsteps. I remember when my kids first started sports and they would cry, meltdown and get so frustrated afterwards when they lost or felt like they messed up. We’d have a long chat afterwards about winning and losing, playing hard versus having an off day and looking at the positives before focusing on improvements. Losing and failing in life allows for personal growth. We’d focus on how they felt on the field and if they didn’t feel like they played their best that’s okay. We’ll practice and work harder to get better for the next one. If they worked hard and gave it their all… it’s okay for another team to have simply played stronger that day. It’s crazy how things have changed over the years. How they both go from devastated to proud of themselves after a loss and can congratulate the other team for playing well. That’s something that I’m finding more often than not to be an extremely uncommon trait to have.