I got told by a soccer dad

Today was the first day of soccer and if you’d like to save yourself the next 10 paragraphs, it ended in me getting yelled at.

There are twelve games being played simultaneously on one, huge, monotonous field like some kind of Spartan training ground. Seriously, there are no landmarks and a sea of identical people. It’s like the Blair Witch soccer field; it just spirals around into infinity with clone children all doing the same thing. If you think I’m exaggerating, we joined two games before we finally found our real team because three different groups of of 5-8 year-olds have the same uniform. (I might be face blind.)


Not only were there three lavender teams playing at noon, but we played against a purple team. There ARE other colors in the spectrum, guys.

As a consequence of not knowing where the hell we were or who our people are (to my credit, there’s only been one practice and every soccer mom north of Evanston looks like Reece Witherspoon to me) I ended up parking in a hurry. SELF-DISCLOSURE: I parked about a foot too far into someone’s driveway. I’m sorry. It was a mistake. Can you find a way to forgive me? I didn’t know I did it. I thought we parked in a really A+ style, but we didn’t. Also, the “we” I’m referring to in this story is me, a five-year-old wearing one shin guard, a three-year-old who always has to pee and a nursing baby. I should include Scott, the hulking machine we drive who always seems to grow about 6-inches after I pull into a parking space.

After the game, as we filed out of the soccer field matrix toward our car, I noticed a bit of a fuss ahead. Someone (nosy) stopped for a moment to peer at something on my windshield and there was a family waiting. They were waiting to yell at me. They specifically took time out of their day, a father and a mother and one angelic child on possibly the most beautiful fall day we will see again for a full calendar year, and they waited, patiently, for an opportunity to yell at me for my parking mistake. Soon I was within yelling distance and was reamed and it wasn’t even their driveway. The man unloaded a cannon of anger on me about my parking job.

You know, I made a mistake parking my car. I should have pulled up the extra foot. I get that. What I don’t get is the need to scream at me like I shaved one of your pets. What do you even say to someone in such a state? I opted for the big, cool retort, “I’m doing the best I can!

The yeller just glared and pivoted and said in one of those sour tones to me over his shoulder, “THEN DO BETTER, SWEETIE!” He finally swished off while giving me mean looks. It was then I noticed the note on my car threatening to call the police on me if I ever parked like that again.

I wasn’t lying to him. I am doing the best I can. I am trying. I’m alone six days a week with three kids, I’m a PTO parent at two schools and I’m processing a lot of deaths right now. This morning I found out a sweet, terribly young father from my old neighborhood died unexpectedly this week. Nothing will put your problems into perspective like thinking about a family with a missing pop.

So yes, I was distracted and I parked my car in a very shitty manner but can I just remind the room that I did not actually cause anyone any harm. It’s not like I blocked the whole driveway. I’m convinced some people don’t have enough problems. My driveway gets partially blocked like every day and I don’t even care. I just maneuver around and that’s my own driveway!

So, this season’s off to a good start. I’ll try to do better. Sweetie.

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