I’m a lot of things as a mom – a lunch maker, boo boo kisser, snot wiper, laundress, short order cook, driver, hair stylist, personal shopper. I’m basically her personal assistant and she is 100% my boss.  We’ve always done a smattering of after school activities and it’s during those things that I learn a lot about my child. For example. mine would rather be indoors, dance, sing, do anything artsy craftsy instead of being on a soccer field.  And this weekend, I learned a little about myself when we went to my cousin’s daughter’s soccer game.

My cousin Karyn has 3 girls and soccer is huge in their home. Different games at the same time has them performing nothing short of feats of magic to be in multiple places at once.  The travel is unreal. The gear is crazy and the commitment is insane.  And thankfully the girls are amazing, so hopefully Karyn gets a huge ROI (that’s Return on Investment which I know my mom will inevitably ask about so I’m being proactive) when they get full rides to college athletic programs.

Karyn is also crazy.

Because to be outside, especially in the Florida heat is torture.  She does this EVERY weekend for HOURS. I was there for one and felt like I was on Survivor Boca.  I was sweating, dying of heat exhaustion and I’m pretty sure seeing mirages like in the Mohave Dessert.  I came to the conclusion that I could not be a soccer mom unless there was a shaded (preferably air-conditioned, Cabana involved).  And if I feel like I’m having a near death experience from the heat, how the EFF are these kids playing in it?!  There’s only one answer – they are super human and some are probably scared of their own soccer moms (no kidding, some of them have lost their cookies).


Jason thought it was hilarious that I fit under this bleacher so he took a minute to make fun of my desperate quest for shade.

Now don’t get me wrong, these parents come with gear. They have it down pat. Chairs with shade covers, coolers, fans, giant umbrellas.  It’s a whole racket.  We had nothing, except a tiny princess umbrella.




The truth is, if my child wants to play soccer, I will fully support it…from a majorly rigged contraption that provides shade, air and ice cold water.

And just like any family outing, this one was rifled with entertainment from my mother.  On the field she was yelling my cousin’s name, waving her arms like she was Tom Hanks in Castaway signaling for help.  She even asked one of the soccer moms if “she was allowed to go on to the field to say hi”.  She was that woman.

This was on the heels of the car ride to the game where I was driving and she was sitting co-pilot while Jason occupied the back seat.  I’d say the convo highlight (if I had to pick one) was this:

Mom: So, there are three new artists I’m really into.

Me: Oh, yeah? Who?

Mom: You’ve probably never heard of them (she’s serious BTDubs).

Me: Try me.

Mom: Ok, first is Nate Dogg.  I think he’s related to Snoopy Dogg (she means the rapper, not the mutt from Charlie Brown. And this comment alone should get her “baller bag” pictured above, revoked)

Me: (Jason and I looking at each other not even having to exchange words) Mom, Nate Dogg is not NEW and he’s NOT related to Snoopy Dog.

Mom: Yeah I think he is…they have the same last name.

Me: Pretty sure D O Double G is not a legal surname.

Jason: Um, Nate Dogg is dead. He died in 2011. (RIP Nate Dogg)

Mom: Hmm guess I won’t be seeing him in concert then.

The second and third “new artists” were Sam Smith and The Madden Brothers (respectively).

Jason: The Madden Brothers as in Good Charlotte?

Mom: No, the other ones. The one that was married to Ashley Simpson.

Jason: That’s Pete Wentz.

Mom: Oh

And because any family gathering is not complete without a meal, we wrapped up the day with dinner and about 50 iced tea refills to rehydrate (including one we poured out to show respect to our homie Nate Dogg).  On the way out, I made the mistake of mentioning SnapChat to my 16-year-old cousin.  You shouldn’t ever mention a social technology around my mom because she immediately infers that she needs it too. And for the love of god, she is still working out the kinks of Facebook.  Haven’t we been through enough?


So she asks what SnapChat is, it’s explained, and I make some comment about the moron girls who actually believe they are sending inappropriate (read: Nude) pics thinking they disappear into thin air (nothing ever disappears from the interwebs people, c’mon). And that’s when my mother starts educating a 16 year old girl on the myths of nudies and sex tapes. In the interest of full disclosure, she did teach sex education when she was a teacher for 5 minutes, so if anyone is qualified to speculate on the topic, I suppose it’s her.

Mom: Don’t ever take nudies!

Alexys: What’s a nudie?  Is that even a word?

Mom: Yes, and nudies lead to sex tapes, and a guy will say, “oh, don’t worry honey, I won’t show anyone” but he always does. How do you think Kim Kardashian got famous?

After than educational gem, we decided to wrap up the shit show with a family selfie.  We literally took 50 because my mom kept asking if she was really cross-eyed and nobody told her or if it was just the picture.  Fifty attempts later, watched by a crowd waiting outside the restaurant, we ended up with this.



Some people think I exaggerate when I disclose family antics, but it’s all real. All of it. We are pretty much exactly like Leah Remini’s family in her new reality show, except they are famous and have more money. And I wouldn’t trade it for all the xanax in those soccer mom’s purses!