I love soccer.
I played competitively throughout my childhood and adolescents.
I coached little kid teams off and on throughout high school and as an adult.
I played recreationally on an adult team for years.
So, my next logical step is clearly to be a soccer mom – like a literal one, not just a child taxi service as is described by wikipedia. I plan to live up to many of the soccer mom stereotypes – except the minivan, I refuse to get a minivan.
I believe team sports and activities are important for healthy early childhood development, so until my child is old enough to refuse to play*, I plan to enroll then in soccer. And, I also plan to be the best darn soccer mom ever!
I plan to coach their team.
I am going to be at every single soccer practice and game.
I am going to be there for ever single goal and every single scrapped knee.
I am going to operate a private taxi service to make sure they get tho the field on time.
I am going to bring orange slices for the kids to enjoy at half time.
I am going to kick a ball with our child whenever they want to practice in the back yard.
I am going to take way to many photos of the kids running around.
I am going to cheer louder then every other parent.
Clearly, I am so going to embarrass our child. And I am going to love every moment of it!
* If one day our child decides soccer is not for them, and instead chooses another sport or activity, I will be just as dedicated. But, I really do hope they love soccer and stick with it.
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Some days, I just wish my mom were still alive.
All I want is to talk to my mom, just one more time.
I want one last hug, but I know if given the chance, I’d never let go. I long for her warm embrace.
I want to create new memories with my mom. I want our future to be intertwined, rather then non-existent. There will always be a hole in my heart that simply cannot be filled. My life is marked with before the accident and after the accident – it’s like I’ve lived two lives in one – one with my mom and sister, and one without. I wish I didn’t know this distinction.
Sometimes I simply cannot believe that it’s been over 18 years since the last time I saw her and talked with her. Sometimes it feels like she died yesterday, and other days it feels like it’s been a lifetime since the car accident.
Sometimes I’m thankful she is with my sister, that they died together and are together forever in eternity. I’m thankful my sister isn’t alone and that she has our mom with her.
Some days, like my high school graduation, my wedding or my university convocations, I wish she were there with me. These are the days that are meant for celebrating with your mom. On these days I felt like something was missing, and looking back at them no matter how great they were, I always remember their absence.
Other days, like any one of our miscarriages or our termination for medical reasons, I wish she were with me. I wish she were here to hold my hand. I wish she were here to help me through the hardest moments of my life.
And sometimes, I’m angry that she died when she did. I’m angry that someone had to miss a stop sign and destroy my family. I’m angry that I lived trough the majority of teenage years without my mom and older sister. And I’m angry that our child will never meet their grandmother or their aunt.
Sometimes I just wish I could go back to before the accident and really appreciate the life I had while I was living it.
Sometimes I just wish…
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My Perfect Breakdown 