I spend about a third of my life sleeping, another third contemplating dinner ideas, and the final third watching my kids participate in various youth sports—whether it’s soccer, basketball, lacrosse, or football. This time on the sidelines affords me a chance for some serious introspection—soul searching, if you will. Plus, it’s the perfect opportunity to snack on Sour Patch Kids without judgment.
While I genuinely enjoy watching my kids compete—or even just sit on the bench—let’s be real. After my 1,038th game of the season, staying focused can be a challenge, which leads to my wandering thoughts:
Why are we always parked miles away from the field?
I can’t believe I forgot my blanket again. Oh wait, it’s in the car, but the dog threw up on it. Should I grab it anyway? Gross. Maybe only if it gets colder.
This chair is awful.
Why do I always pick the broken one? I might never get out of this thing. I guess I’ll just wait until everyone else leaves before attempting to stand. My knees are practically at my chin. Just smile; no one will notice.
How old are those kids on the opposing team?
They look massive. That kid is definitely not 10. Does he have a mustache? He looks old enough to drive here. And maybe even buy beer. Ha, funny. I could really go for a beer. Wait, I don’t even like beer.
I love this sport.
Do I have cankles? Am I the only one still wearing capris? Time for a shopping trip. No one looks good in capris. Actually, that mom over there pulls them off. She probably does pilates or barre.
Is there a bar nearby?
How many minutes did my son actually play? Three? I should track it with an app. I never use apps. Wait, I could go for some buffalo chicken dip right now. Or maybe not edamame, those are just trendy lima beans.
Was that a raindrop?
I think it was rain. I hope so!
Wow, that guy is loud.
What a jerk—oh wait, that’s my husband. He’s not a jerk; I must be tired.
Is that a bee?
I can’t get out of my chair! IS THAT A BEE?!
It’s too chilly for spring.
I wish I had that blanket. I should wash it. And while I’m at it, do laundry, empty the dishwasher, clean out the closets, and tackle that pile of papers on the kitchen table. We need a new kitchen table, a new kitchen… maybe we should move?
Is that my son out there?
What’s his number again? Why is that other kid always playing? Oh, the coach’s son. He’s terrible, but somehow he just scored. Ball hog!
Wow, I definitely missed a spot shaving…
Like, my entire left leg, and my right too.
Uh-oh, she’s coming over to chat with me.
What’s her name again? Think, think—what’s her name?! Just look straight ahead.
I like her hair.
I hate my hair.
Was that rain?
What’s for dinner?
Ugh, I dread making dinner.
Do we even need to eat?
I really need to use the bathroom.
It’s a long walk to the restroom. They’re always disgusting. No toilet paper, no hand towels, and why are there always spiders? I can hold it; I’m trapped in this chair anyway. I can’t feel my legs.
How did I forget my fleece/hoodie/raincoat again?
Go blue!
Am I yelling too loud?
That was a bit much. I sounded like Rosie O’Donnell or Roseanne Barr.
Is there a bar around here?
What number is my son again?
Do I really have to make dinner?
How many times have we eaten pizza this week? Pizza again? It’s not that bad; it’s healthier than fried chicken or… well, you get the idea.
Did my child just score?
Ugh, missed it. I’ll just tell him I saw it. Great job, buddy! Oops, don’t call him buddy. Dude? Don’t say dude.
What inning is it?
What quarter? What period? What day? That didn’t look like a foul. Is it raining? I think I felt something.
Did we really drive two hours for this game?
I hate this sport.
I could really go for a bite of that guy’s pretzel.
Oops, he’s looking at me. Did I say that out loud? Maybe he’s looking at my cankles.
What’s the score?
I like her sunglasses. They make her look like Tina Fey. They’d probably make me look like Tina Belcher.
Is that rain?
That was definitely out of bounds. What’s the score? She seems nice. Never mind, she’s a screamer.
Is this game almost over?
Where did I park? Where’s my other child? Where are you now that I need you? Great, now I have Justin Bieber stuck in my head.
I could go for shrimp and linguine.
Wow, that’s random. With a glass of wine… Now that’s a thought. Wasn’t “Look Who’s Talking” a movie? Who was in that? Bruce Willis. Where are you, Bruce?
Did I even bring my other child?
Where are you now, Justin? Do I hear thunder?
I should take some photos.
Damn, memory full. Delete, delete… oh, cute! Delete, delete. What’s the score?
Overtime? Oh no, please no.
I really need to pee. Was that rain? Please let it be rain.
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Summary:
In the chaotic environment of youth sports, moms often juggle their thoughts about the game, family responsibilities, and personal reflections. From wondering about their kids’ playing time to contemplating their next meal, the inner dialogue can be both humorous and relatable. Amid the excitement and challenges, there’s a deeper exploration of life and parenting happening on the sidelines.