This week, I became a cliché. This week, I became *gasp* a soccer mom. I know, right?
We have entered into a whole new world, I feel. Gone are the days of breastfeeding and bottles and babyfood and smelling of spoiled milk like ALL THE TIME. Gone are the diapers and the toddler tantrums and the coloring on the walls with permanent marker. Gone is the potty training and sippy cups and naptime.
It’s like all of a sudden, I blinked, and holy cow….soccer mom. Life is now school drop-offs and pick-ups and playdates and ballet class, or soccer games.
The high chairs are all gone. No more potty seats. No more toddler beds.
My kids are….kids.
Who allowed them to grow up already?
I remember thinking that I just couldn’t wait to get to this stage. Especially, when Emmy was doing something especially naughty. Or when I was changing diapers. I could not wait to get to this stage.
And don’t get me wrong. I was in the height of joy watching my little ballerina in her first dance class this week. That is something that I knew that we would share since I first saw her on the ultrasound.
And watching Connor fling himself through the air to block a goal in soccer? Awesome. My pride runneth over.
It’s just…I don’t know.
We got here so fast. So all of a
sudden.
Wasn’t it just yesterday that we were bringing them home from the hospital?
I feel like I’m still adjusting to even being a mom, let alone a soccer mom. That sounds so very grown up. Wait, I’m totally a grown up now, aren’t I? Oh, criminy. Who let that happen?
