Know When To Hold 'Em

by Ellen Buckhorn

It was a cold Sunday afternoon in February and I was on the second day of a weekend home alone with the two children. Saturday had been a trial--whiny four-year-old, cranky six-month-old, sleep-deprived mom. I vowed the next day would be better, but by two o'clock, facing the rest of the day with a baby who refused to take a nap, I did something I always swore I'd never do. I packed the two children into their car seats and drove. A Sunday drive to sleepyland.

Oh sure, there had been plenty of occasions when my children had fallen asleep in the car, but those were usually trips of some consequence: off to the grocery store, up to Grandma's, over to Target. But use the car as a means to get them to nap, with no errand attached? Nope. Never. I was not going to be one of those parents who drove their infants around the back roads at 3am for the sake of a little sleep.

I'm not someone who makes a lot of pronouncements about things I won't do. I'm a vegetarian who imagines that one day I might decide I want some bacon. A former public transportation purist who loves to drive. "Never say never" is more than just a cliché; it's sensible advice. But as a parent, you have certain ideas about how you're going to raise your children. I'd like to think I'm pretty flexible. I know I don't have all the answers and there are plenty of things that I haven't made up my mind about yet, but the word "never" does creep in from time to time.. There are really only three things I felt firmly about. Besides the driving-them-to-sleep thing, I was never going to allow them to play peewee soccer, and I was never, ever, going to drive a minivan.

What's the matter with soccer, you might wonder? It's not the game I object to; it's the whole "soccer mom" phenomenon. When I was in the fifth and sixth grades I played on a soccer team and there wasn't a soccer mom in sight. There were usually a couple of soccer-crazed dads but the sidelines were remarkably empty. I don't know where the other kids' parents were, but I know where mine were: running ragged trying to get everything done that they needed to do while making sure that the six of us were where we were supposed to be. Nowadays the soccer fields are packed with parents sipping their Starbucks and chatting on their cell phones, and the parking lot looks like a minivan dealer's back lot. I don't mean to be harsh. I have friends who are soccer moms and I think it's great that parents are encouraging their kids and getting involved, while the kids learn something about teamwork, get some exercise, and have some fun. But I have a very hard time seeing myself fitting in with the crowd on the bleachers. We aren't home owners, we aren't doing any renovations, we don't have any pets, and the list goes on.

I've recently discovered, however, that my four-year-old daughter is really quite good at kicking the ball. It goes just where she wants it to go and she's got some real power behind her kick. So I suppose I ought to heed the old "never say never" mantra and open myself up to the possibility of her playing on a soccer team one of these days. But I'll be damned if I show up driving a minivan.