Clearly not a soccer mom

The boy child is signed up for soccer. After waiting in line for two hours (!) to sign him up (disorganized, much?) and signing away half a year's salary on registration and uniform fees, not to mention having to commit myself to as yet unmentioned volunteer activities or lose a kidney, his games have begun.

We got to the first one and didn't realize shorts did not come with the uniforms they were handing out - "Sorry, honey that you have to play in your jeans! Mama loves you!!"

Sitting through an unending game - "Yay! Honey, good job kicking the ball in the right direction!!"

Missing two practices because they were past his bed time. (Am I a weird parent because my kids have always had a regular bedtime allowing them to get a good night's sleep? They are in bed by 7 p.m. and up by 7 a.m.)

Missing the last game because we read the schedule wrong. "Sorry, Dude. My bad."

Having to pay to watch each of his games (?!). Really? We are talking six year olds here.

I am just not sure I am going to get the hang of this. But embrace it I must.