Just Call Me Super Mom

My 10-year-old brought a gooey, frosting-covered cookie home from soccer practice just now.

When he hopped in the car to munch his cookie on the ride home, he reminisced about how when he was little he used to get a treat after every game.

I guess it was his favorite part about soccer.

Then he dropped this little bomb.

“Yeah. Except you hated when it was your turn to bring treats because you ALWAYS forgot and you hate going to the store.”

Wait.

What???

I remember I was his soccer coach that first year because there was no one else to do it.

I remember hauling everything to the fields (the ball bag and goals plus a preschooler and his baby brother's carseat) then setting up the goals and somehow learning every player's name by heart.

I remember running around at games on Saturday morning with an infant strapped to my chest.

Plus, remember? For soccer games in the Spring it's usually RAINING. And COLD.

I’m pretty sure I high-fived all the kids and hollered out encouragement…

Way to go!!!

Good job, you guys!!!

It’s our kick now!!!!

Jack…over here!! This one’s our goal!!

I sort of remember feeling like a Super Mom.

Look at me!!! Coaching!! Momming!! Coaching and Momming at the same time!!!

But apparently, my kid remembers how I hated bringing snacks because I usually forgot and complained about having to go to the store.

And now I’m wondering if this is how parenthood goes.

Maybe we knock ourselves out trying to give them everything and doing the right thing and showing up and every once in a while congratulating ourselves for nailing it…

But then our kid will remember how we lost our temper or rolled our eyes or apparently ‘always’ forgot to bring soccer treats.

Huh.

Oh well.

I’ll keep trying.

Just call me Super Mom.