It's possible I should open this letter to include all parents who have their kids involved in sports because over time, I've discovered the problem is e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e, across all sports. And frankly, I'm embarrassed for my gender.
I was a bit nervous at the start of the soccer season because Boo was the only new kid bumped up to this team for the fall season. I knew the moms had been together for a few seasons and that often spells trouble for any newcomers.
I wasn't wrong.
The clique of mothers has a ring leader. And if the ring leader doesn't like you for some unknown reason, even though she's never attempted to speak to you, well, you're out of luck. You're an outsider (when she's around.) When she's not around? The other moms will talk to you.
Seriously? Are we 12? No, we're not. But it almost feels like middle school all over again.
I don't automatically assume that because we have boys on the same soccer team that we should all suddenly be friends, have dinner, and go shopping together. True friendships usually don't work that way. But is it necessary to act as though I don't exist and to not extend a friendly "hello" and sincere "how are you?"
I always say hello and it's barely reciprocated, while eyes dart to the ground.
Not anymore. I'm done. If you won't take 2 minutes out of your precious day to acknowledge my presence, why should I bother?
My son is struggling a bit on this team because they moved up a level competition-wise so he's still working it out. But it's clear to me that these other self-righteous parents don't think he should be on the team and this is the reason for the cold shoulder. Really? The other 11 boys have been playing together for 4 seasons. ONE new kid is not the reason we've lost 2 of 3 games. Oh, and let me remind you that they are NINE YEARS OLD.
It got back to me that a parent has said that the PARENTS should have a say who is allowed to join this team. Are you frigging kidding me? This is not club soccer. If I had only known before the season started that this is what I walking into, I would have run away in the opposite direction.
Get off your high horse and your assumption that your kid is the next David Beckham. He's not.