"Soccer Mom"

Let me start off by saying I’m not your average mom.

I didn’t end up with some payout in a divorce settlement. Basically, I was left with my clothing and some kitchenware after my divorce.

I was also forced to move back in with my parents at the age of twenty-six. Sounds fun doesn’t it?

While I appreciate their generosity, it's just not where I had pictured myself or my son. At this point in my life I had hoped that I could provide him with more, unfortunately fate had other plans.

I'm currently working on a new blueprint.

I now live on the in a little brink house up on a hill. Some women around here are either rich housewives or former housewives who are still rich through hefty divorce settlements.

Obviously, I don’t fit either of these descriptions.

I’ve come to accept this fact, but it still annoys me.

Every time I step outside my doors to go shopping or take my child somewhere, I’m reminded of everything I lack.

I don’t have a swanky SUV or abundance of money.

A few months ago I took my son to his first day of soccer. From the moment we stepped on the field I could feel the lines drawn between myself and most of the other mothers.

Their fancy clothes, and well manicured nails adorned with diamond rings, separated us into two different worlds.

And it wasn’t just their physical appearance that divided us; it was also how they interacted with their children.

They didn’t.

This would've been less disturbing if their kids were older, but this particular group was for four and five-year-olds. Most of them were nervous and scared, looking to their mothers for reassurance.

Yet, as obvious as this was, the majority of these women still socialized while their kids wandered. It was as if the actual idea of bringing their child to soccer wasn’t for their child’s benefit, it was more for theirs.

Am I just naïve in thinking that these types of activities are really for children? Did I miss the memo that said they are merely a cover up for adult interaction?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for meeting new people and socializing, but when I signed my son up for soccer it was for him and not me. When he struggled on the side lines during practice, I was there encouraging him, not ignoring him while I gabbed to my girlfriends.

It got me thinking: Where do I fit in here, will I ever, and more importantly, do I want to?

Chances are good that I’ll never be rich, drive an expensive car or own a pair of Louboutin heels.

Maybe it's single parent guilt, but I feel I owe my son my undivided attention. At this point, I'm not willing to compromise that.

I have my set of values, and other people have theirs. I’m hoping someday soon I'll bump into another woman in the area that share in mine. Until then I'll be the mother on the sidelines cheering for my son, sans makeup, in my t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers.