Mary Novaria

There was a little girl Who had a little curl Right in the middle of her forehead When she was good She was very, very good And when she was bad, she was horrid* This is a little ditty my sainted mother used to recite to me. Although I don’t think I’ve thrown it in my own daughter’s face, it applies to her as well. As a matter of fact, it’s still a pretty accurate description of my own temperament, the horrid part emerging when Hungry, Angry, Lonely or Tired. (I am, however, rarely lonely. In fact I love my solitude.) So it is with my darling daughter, on the brink of becoming a teenager. So hungry. She got braces on Monday and can hardly chew. So angry. With her 16-year-old-brother. All the time. Lonely? I don’t think so judging from the amount of time she spends IM,ing and the recent increase in her telephone time. Tired. Not at night when she can’t sleep. Definitely in the morning, when she can’t get up in time to make the school bus. So sweet/So cranky. So easygoing/So stubborn. So...

...is not really what I am. I have a daughter who plays soccer and a son who used to play until his Premier Soccer experience ruined his appreciation for the game. I do not own, nor have I ever owned, a minivan. I think you're supposed to at least have that to be an official soccer mom. I do not have the kit (uniform) cleaned, fluffed and folded the same night it is spattered with mud and red Gatorade. We frequently throw the conflict jersey in the washer perilously close to game time and hope that it dries on the way to the pitch (field). Often we cannot locate a matching pair of socks. We keep losing water containers and usually have to stop at the corner gas station to buy water on our way to the game... That's when I usually realize my gas light is on. Soccer moms (I think) are better at planning ahead. I do well to remember when it's my turn to drive to practice. Does it start at 4:30 or 5:00? Late afternoon is my worst time of day. That's when the exhaustion and f...