Yes, I have a child who plays soccer. My eight-year-old, Miranda, is shaping up to be a pretty good little goalie. I’m not one of those moms who screams from the side lines, or pops the [way outdated--seriously, this move originates with the Fonz] thumbs up whenever a kid does something right on the field. The other night, I was in the presence of an over-enthusiastic soccer coach (and mom) who…let’s just say that if Satuday Night Live was to write a sketch making fun of soccer coaches, this woman’s antics would have provided more than enough material.
Miranda even says that moms who act this way are “trying too hard” and that it’s…wait for it, you know it’s coming…”embarassing.” Yet what Miranda can’t know and what parents of young childen do know is that for parents, there really isn’t any “trying too hard.” If we aren’t trying very, very hard all of the time, we’re not quite measuring up, and our kids might not make the team, get the scholarship, etc.
This is why it vexes me that whenever there is a description to be a made of a mom who is known for her parenting rather than her career, that description usually relies on the overused “soccer mom” moniker. In some cases, these moms don’t even have children on soccer teams. The moniker has become a cheap way of identifying a woman who seems too into her kids…it, in fact, cheapens her identity. What does she do? She drives a van and passes out juice boxes.
The other day, I was reading a review of Tom Perrota’s The Little Children in preparation for the next meeting of the Oakland’s book club (Wednesday July 23 at 7:00, come even if you haven’t read the book). Perrota’s take on suburban life is intriguing and a little frightening if one identifies with the hang-ups of the characters in the book. I saw a little of myself in both Sarah and Kathy, who are both suburban moms whose realities don’t quite measure up to the visions they once had of home and family.
The review, which I will NOT link here for its crime of lacking originality, wasn’t three sentences in before “soccer mom” appeared. The thing is…there is NO soccer in Perrota’s book. Not a cleat. Not a shin guard. The moms struggle for position in the playground heirarchy, and Sarah and Todd practically engage in sexual foreplay at the town pool, but no soccer.
Mary Ann, the mom who’s at the top of the playground heirarchy, is the character that the reviewer calls a “soccer mom.” This description is not only inaccurate, but it attempts to shortcut examining a character who is a little (but admittedly not much) more complex than that. Mary Ann always has the right snack, grooms her four-year-old for Harvard, and has sex on a weekly…Tuesdays at 9:00…schedule. “Soccer mom?” Not quite. Mary Ann’s neuroses have far more complicated roots in our culture, beginning with the best-selling What to Expect pregnancy tome and continuing in the monthly, themed issues of Family Fun magazine.
Even the soccer coach (and mom) at the field the other day deserves more than the dismissive nom du jour for suburban mothers. When the food, clothing, shelter needs are met, and then some, other fears and concerns for their children press in, and it is this pressure that Perrota explores in his novel about the parents of The Little Children.
um, “it’s crime”? seriously? and you call yourself an English teacher!
and I think you mean “neurosEs”. don’t thank me, I live to serve.
So, about the novel. Yeah, I didn’t think soccer entered into it. Fugitive of the week, perhaps. I kept coming back to the self-righteous assholes on the Vindy boards and comparing them to Larry Moon and his “All of my beliefs are right and trump everyone else’s concerns.”
These people take the law into their own hands (especially the ones who are the law or live in that corporatocracy stratosphere of ultimate privilege and influence) and run roughshod over people’s lives.
Then, they feel that people’s behavior (such as suggested in the end of the story) justifies their actions. I say the law is the law. Obviously the story is more complicated than that and touches on so many of our emotions and relationships. I thought it was quite beautiful and sad.
I always enjoy reading stories like that, because I can feel secure in my marriage and happy that I’m settled and have a beautiful family and home. The panty sniffer was a real winner, eh?
What typographical errors? I don’t see any? You must have imagined them
Onto the book…I completely agree with your take Larry Moon. His obsession with Ronnie McGorvey was pretty frightening (especially since Larry is somewhat challenged in the area of discernment), and it clearly derived from a sense of powerlessness. Hmm, I wonder if the same thing might be said for the self-righteous vindy gang?
I’m a little older than the characters in the book, so while I can relate to their marital strife, I’m happily beyond it. I love the ending, but I won’t spoil.
I’m sorry you won’t be at book club this week. We’ll have to figure out some way to get you into the conversation. Speaker phone? Live video feed? Don’t you have a friend named Tim who can help with that, Duke?
It’s Chancellor, dammit! Chancellor Duke. geez…
Sorry, Chancellor Duke. And I’m glad you spelled “Chancellor” for me because I never would have gotten that right.
I hate the term “soccer mom”. I prefer Jaci’s “sucker mom” as it’s MUCH more accurate. I’m excited for book club. That’s all I’m going to say….