Minivan-Driving-Soccer-Mom

O.M.G. I'm pouting. I confess. I do, absolutely LOVE how my minivan suits my needs perfectly. Seriously. I don't especially want AT ALL to be a soccer mom, though. The end of my work day is not suitable for reasoning with a two year old over why he can't join his brother on the practice field. I come home, cook dinner, lounge a bit in my chair, and work the bedtime routine circuit. Now there is a new bleep on the evening schedule: soccer. It starts in April, I think, and I'm not all that fired up about it. On the sign-up page, it was not an option to NOT volunteer. A pop-up menu asked if I would consider the "coach" position: that was HYSTERICALLY FUNNY! Me?--a Soccer coach. When I settled for the team manager (whatever that is) it begged me with another pop-up menu to REALLY reconsider being the coach. Aaaaaah, I can picture it now: my closet being invaded with coach, bowling-type, embroidered shirts and, heaven help me in the fall: a cub scout mom shirt. I think I will go by some new make up...something girly. Naah. It'll just glisten in the hot-as-hell humidity while I am chasing Michael around the practice fields and I'll look all pastey. Maybe I can be in charge of team-mascot-themed snacks, drinks, and goodie bags. The team ice-cream social? Spa day, anyone? Nick says he will handle taking Nathan to the practices and games. Brain flash: HE will be in charge at the emergency room when Nathan breaks something? Who will be there to panic? That wasn't a pop-up menu option. Official Freak-out mom when somebody's bone pops out of their arm. How can I embellish gatorade bottles? Maybe I will get my own embroidered bowling shirt (in team colors, yet to be determined) with "April Cobb, Team Manager," so I can blend in while chasing the toddler. Such fun. Ya-hieuuuu as Michael says now. His other new phrase is "oh...that's TERRIBLE." Perhaps that's more fitting. I need a girly daughter.