You Know You’re a Soccer Mom When:

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Just for fun…

You know you’re a “soccer Mom” when:

  • … someone asks how old your kid is and you answer a number with a “u” in front of it.
  • … you go to a Broadway play and check the program for “half-time.”
  • … your “back-to-soccer” pictures trump the “back-to-school” pictures.
  • … your “new car smell” only lasts until the first practice.
  • … you have witnessed true exorcism of devilish entrails when an opposing parent is self-diagnosed as “smarter than the referee’s call.”
  • … your child has a perfected British accent from watching games before he was 5.
  • … church runs over the normal time, and you wonder how much “stoppage time” was added.
  • … “upper 90” has nothing to do with being old.
  • … you give your kid yellow and red cards for punishment in the house. (Yellow might mean time out, but red means Dad is getting involved.)
  • … you call the baseball umpire a “ref.” (I love to watch my baseball-playing nephews!)
  • … football players seem overdressed. (Though I still love to watch football!)
  • … you can’t remember a Mother’s Day that you didn’t celebrate from the sidelines.
  • … you go to Florida to run into your Michigan friends, now that you live in North Carolina. (Because the soccer worlds always collide.)
  • … your kid has more daily multi-cultural experiences than the UN.
  • … the words “Classic,” “Select,” “Challenge,” and “Recreation” rank like school grades.
  • … you spend more on soccer uniforms and equipment than college.
  • … “Nutmeg” is not a spice. (Thanks, Jodi, for that suggestion on Facebook!)


… And some days you wish there were some overtime sessions in motherhood, so it would last a little longer – with stoppage time.

Blessed to be a Soccer Mom,


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Electronics Addiction: Another Leading Cause of “Busyness”

Dear Lindsey,

It is astounding that the same tools that multiply efficiency of time can steal it in equal magnitude.  I would say that life would be better if electricity were never used, but wouldn’t that make me a hypocrite as I type on my word-processor and you read on your computer?

Kevin DeYoung, in his book,  Crazy Busy: A (Mercifully) Short Book about a (Really) Big Problem, lists several diagnoses causing busyness:

  • Trying to look good, instead of actually doing good. (and its close cousins: pride, Unknownpeople pleasing and perfectionism),
  • Trying to do more than what God expects me to do.
  • Not setting priorities…even in serving others.
  • “Kinderarchy”:  Freaking out about my kids.
  • Being addicted to technology.
  • Not resting enough.

Electronics Addiction

My last letter talked about overparenting and freaking out about my kids, but this one is more about freaking out over me….being addicted to technology.

Yes, I could say that the kids are the ones with the electronics problem. I took six teenagers for ten hours in a car last month, and I think I could count on my fingers the number of words they said to each other….with their mouths, anyway. It seems we are raising a silent generation – as their thumbs type the words (even while sitting next to each other in a car!) that we once verbalized.  I find it ironic though, that every time I want to say, “Put the phone down,” (which is an acceptable request in our house – any time) I have to stop myself from using my own phone first.

gadget-addictionDo I really think I am so “needed” that I cannot go a few hours without seeing if someone needs me on my phone? Do I think my children cannot survive minutes of my errand-running without having me on an electronic leash, able to be tugged at their beck and call?

Gone are the neighborly days in which I grew up, since neighbors are not as “used.”  When my brother, Tim, hit a baseball in the backyard that rearranged my brother Mike’s nose to be firmly planted into his eye, the neighbor (“my second mother,” we called her) came running with a role of paper towels before the injured one had even stopped running (and screaming). Those kind of neighborly bonding moments are gone! Why is it that broken noses in backyard baseball seem so much healthier than Snap Chat, video games and DISH? 🙂

When email first began its trend, I remember putting a tag at the end of my emails, “I check email on Friday afternoons only, so please be patient in awaiting a reply.”


How did that ever work? Now, it seems perfectly legitimate for a coach to email a change in my kids’ 5:30 practice at 4:30!  Everyone assumes you are on the leash!  I had fourteen emails today, regarding soccer alone. Heaven forbid my family’s biannual dentist appointments come around, because – since I am the secretary and personal chauffeur of my four children – I get ten emails (two per child, and myself) reminding me, outside of the five identical texts and five automated phone calls… all to tell me about one appointment I had already put into my calendar six months prior – when the appointment was booked.  You’d think they are afraid that my family is so “busy,” we will forget the appointment!  And sometimes, we do.

Unknown-2My brain has become so accustomed to the fast pace of multi-tasking, that I can hardly sit for sixty seconds at a red light, without habitually grabbing my phone to check the few buzzes I missed since the last light. I mean, really: if I accidentally leave the house without my phone, I am shocked at how many times I reach for it (and notice only because it is not there). The old days of talking to the lady behind me in line have diminished into a world of looking at the top of her head, while she does the Smart Phone Slouch, as if sending approval for me to assume the same stance.

It has been proven that endorphins are released and produce a “high” when the phone buzzes or computer indicates, “You’ve got mail!”  It makes a subliminal desire for the same high if we go minutes without getting it.  (That must be why I miss my phone if I am without it for a nano-second.)

Last week, a baby whined in her car seat in a waiting room images-2where I sat. The mom typed away on her phone to who-knows-who while the little cry got a little more forceful.  I chuckled to myself, while I checked my own phone to see if my father in Colorado had taken his turn on Words with Friends. It is striking how a phone can eliminate the 1600 miles between my father and me… and yet distance the mom from her baby in the same room!

“We are now more wired than ever. Researchers from the University of Glasgow found that half of the study participants reported checking their email once an hour, while some individuals check up to 30 to 40 times an hour. An AOL study revealed that 59 percent of [some] users check every single time an email arrives and 83 percent check email every day on vacation.” (

It’s no wonder I feel so BUSY!

I would like to say I am going to commit to go back in time, and start square dancing in the barn with neighbors! Haha! I would first have to buy a barn and introduce myself to my neighbors – who might run from me if I were talking about square dancing!

Really, my goal is to utilize electronics to run life, not let electronics’ use run my life.

I want to keep electronics as tools I control – not the other way around, despite how difficult that is to actually live.

Unknown-3Maybe people who have the “phone basket” by the front door have good family dinners? Maybe those people who take forever to get back to me on email or text are actually living with the people in their house, and I should applaud it? Maybe it’s ok if my kid doesn’t have his own email to check at age seven?  After all, once the message-checking begins, it doesn’t end…forever!

“I had to apologize to God today, because I turned on my phone before reading my Bible,” a friend sharpened me as iron sharpens iron when she made this passing statement. How many times have quiet times, exercise, or my kids’ smiles been missed when I thought I needed to check “just one more thing” online?  I lightly enjoy Twitter and Facebook: I love hearing who had a baby, finding a tribute in memory of my friend, Jackie Lewis,  or seeing how many “liked” or “re-tweeted” my son’s April Fool’s joke on me. But the hourglass doesn’t stop dropping sand when I get distracted looking at the other threads completely unrelated to the priorities for my day!

images-3My husband has (brilliantly I might add) limited electronics’ use by our kids. It is easier to say “no” when they are four, than to try and backtrack on use when they are fourteen. If Google and Facebook limit the youngest age to be thirteen, it should at least flag more-conservative-than-the-Internet parents that maybe we should wait at least that long for them to get accounts.  (Besides, what is being taught when even parents use a fake birthdate to get their kid “around” the age rules?)  Really, our kids will have their own electronic leashes soon enough.  There is no right-of-passage back into childhood, so it is probably wise if parents choose to protect it.  Kids have the rest of their lives to live with the “electronic leash,” so there’s no harm in having “tween” years without its yoke!

We are affecting the next generation.

My 13-yr-old and I were discussing “maturity” and what it means, as I look for more symptoms of it in him. At one point, he answered, “It seems that ‘maturity’ means you check your phone more, and are more involved with emails.” He was serious in his observation of those “mature” older brothers and friends around him.

My daughter recently wrote an article for a magazine she created. Her random “creative writing,” had a point that was clear, especially since she (at age ten) is only on the outside of the electronic world, looking in.  Although I cannot say everyone can logistically apply her “one month” program, I thought it a fitting way to end this letter. (See her article, “Family Fun” below.)

Electronically your friend,


Romans 12:2:And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect.”

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Family Fun

By Christine Brady

“Uh…a duck?” said Nate. The whole family laughed. Trivial Pursuit always had us giggling at the funny questions…and answers. Our family takes one month away from phones, iPods and computers. No e-mailing, texting or calling people…just family time. Nowadays, families need more time together…electronics are drawing them apart.

People who are always texting and e-mailing never really stop to look around them- to stare at the pretty clouds or to listen to the birds chirp sweetly.  My older brother got a FaceBook account and for a while, even he was distracted from the beautiful weather! Without phones and iPods, you would really appreciate the world around you.

Family time is very important. We learn to laugh, have fun, and we can forget bad things.  I think our family is the happiest of all when they take a month away from phones, iPods, computers and video games. For instance once I had a HORRIBLE ear infection that lasted from March to July.  July was our Un-plugged month, and I got distracted from my ear infection. Instead of hurting, my ear infection DISAPPEARED!!!! Family time is definitely important.

Families need more time together, and happier memories to look back at. I am encouraging YOU to take a month off electronics, as a test and see what happens. Do you want YOUR family laughing together? Simply take out electronics for a while! Trivial Pursuit is on its way…and so is lot of family fun!

Orange Signs of Protection

Dear Lindsey,

I intentionally arrived twenty minutes early to avoid my son going to the dorms after practice – which would only accentuate the point that his friends were staying, but he was not.  When arriving at the practice field, I could see my 13-yr-old in the pack already walking off the field in the opposite direction, despite my early arrival. I realized I would need to pick him up at the University Towers, one mile off of the far end of the field (where I could not drive). I picked the 16-yr-old up from the stadium behind me, and we hurried to the parking garage to retrieve the car.

At the parking lot exit, the one-way sign pointed in a direction opposite my desire. I went a

One Way

mile clockwise to get back to about 50 yards from the entrance to the parking garage. (Maybe I should have just gone the wrong way for 50 yards!)

I tried to turn left at Cate Ave, when I saw the LED sign that said, “Cate Ave closed 5/13 – 8/13.” Obviously, this teen soccer camp was my first visit to the college since 5/13.   I turned around again and headed in a three-mile circle to get to the other side of Cate – to where the University Towers were.

As I arrived at the dorm, there were teenagers everywhere. The stench of the players filled the lobby, making me wish there were another door through which I could wait. The variety of teenage maturity never ceases to amaze me. Some looked like young puppies, wet behind the ears, and holding a stature of four-foot-something; others, though separated by just a few years, exhibited bodies ready for the cover of GQ, towering over six feet. The emotional maturity of the room had equal variance.

My younger son droopily walked toward me, his sweat-covered clothing evidencing his intense workout on a hot Carolina day.

The third door of the car barely closed when he started. “I understand you don’t want me to, but can I just know the reasons you don’t want me to stay overnight?” he said, resigned as he sat in the car behind his brother.

This conversation was held over from the previous week, when he had realized his friends were staying at the all-night soccer camp, but he and his brother were not.  The first day of camp departure had only reopened the wounds.

I repeated my stand: “Dad and I prayed about it and decided this was best for our family.”

“Don’t you trust me?” He asked – hurt, yet clearly ready to lock horns.

“I do trust you. You are SO trustworthy, and please do not take personal offense at our decision!”

Thoughts of explanation went through my mind: “Chris and I have been traveling; we haven’t been a family in one house in several nights. Casey just came home from church camp and doesn’t need four more nights out of his bed.  Fatigue leads to injury, and you both have a big competition in Greensboro the day this camp ends. I trust you, but I can’t say the same about all of the teens – up to college-age – that are in the building. We prayed and did not have peace leaving you overnight, so we chose to bring you both home each night.”

“A thirty-minute commute to your own bed?! Who wouldn’t want that?!” I said aloud with a lightened voice, trying to change the heavy mood of the car.

I started to turn to enter highway 40, but was blocked by a sideways police car and

Police Car Lights

flashing lights. I continued straight instead, into uncharted territory, looking for another way home.

Our conversation volley continued, until I finally said with love, “Trust me, bud. The best way I can say it is that we want what’s best for YOU.”

Road Closed Ahead sign

Man! The road came to another road closure. It sent me on a detour that ended up in a loop that circled around to five miles before I would have originally entered the highway! “This is so frustrating! I just want to go home!” was in my head, when my son’s boiling became noticeable as well. I could tell he disagreed with our decision to keep him home, yet was getting control of his attitude, and I needed to do the same.

I spoke out loud to my teens, figuring I would try to teach while reigning in my irritation.

“A friend was telling me about her BSF Bible study leader’s lesson on Joseph last week.  Do you remember what happened to Joseph?”

They answered about his being sold into slavery by his brothers and taken to Egypt. (Genesis 37 – 50)

“But then what happened?”

The boys shared in the story telling. Through their low Eeyore-toned voices, I wondered if their eyes were rolling and thoughts were saying, “Here Mom goes again…” but they continued telling of how Joseph worked hard and became the lead servant, so he was brought into the palace of a leader of Egypt, Potiphar, and became his right-hand man.

“And then?” I asked, impressed at their memory of details.

They continued by saying that Joseph was put into jail, because Potiphar’s wife accused him of something he didn’t do.

“Yes! And THAT is where my friend’s story started. She was saying that jail could have been a good thing at that point.”

“Good?” Nate asked, holding onto his fight-ready mood, knowing jail didn’t sound like a good thing. I pictured his one eyebrow raised while the opposite top lip crunched up leaving his mouth open – his normal questioning facial features.

“My friend said that jail may have protected Joseph.  Maybe jail prevented him from giving in to temptation for Potiphar’s wife if she had persisted.  The Bible actually says we will never be tempted beyond our ability to resist (1Cor 10:13), so maybe God was actually protecting Joseph by removing him from the situation. I guess I think sometimes protection may feel like jail, but please know that we love you and are only trying to do what we think is best as parents to protect you.”

Oooh. Silence in the car. “I wonder if the point made as much sense to them as it did to me,” I mused at my motherhood. Then I almost laughed out loud when I realized that maybe the detours on the road that night were a “jail” that God was using to protect me as well.

detour sign

My thirty-minute trip was taking over an hour on the return home due to detours, but at this moment, I was thankful for the extra time in the car. Maybe the detours were for such a conversation? Maybe the detours were for my own protection from some reckless car on the original route? Maybe the detours were for… “Ice Cream!”  I saw a favorite stop ahead, now recognizing where we were. We stopped and got something all those kids in the dorm would certainly be missing!

There are so many parallels to the closed roads in my path that night:

–       Home foreclosure may just be taking my friend to the right rental neighborhood where someone needs her smile.

–       A deferred college application may be leading that young lady to choose the college where her future spouse will be.

–       A job loss may protect someone from an ethical temptation that otherwise would have been difficult to resist, or it may be directing him to a new job with a better opportunity for his growth.

–       Jochobed may have thought it a horrible “detour” when she was forced to give up her baby due to oppressive captors, yet her God-ordained “detour” led her baby Moses to grow up to free her nation from slavery. (Exodus 2)

–       Joseph’s jail time may have protected him from Potiphar’s wife’s possibly tempting situation, but it definitely put him in the right place at the right time to eventually be promoted by Pharaoh.  His new position of high authority allowed him to save Egypt and even his own family in Israel during a time of famine.

God’s detours are not always denials. They are not for us to scream, “How dare God change my plans!” ha! What we see as “detours” may be His gracious protection and direction. I can’t say I am thrilled when I see the “orange sign” ahead, but I can trust the Writer of the arrow as I follow. Of course, I am grateful for the ice cream stops along the way! 🙂

God bless,


Related Posts:

“IF” (If My Daddy Had Not Been Struck By Lightning)– by my friend, Sarah Ascol

Are You a Basket Case?

Miscarriages, Slow Toddlers and Knees

Out of My Mind (with a Brain Tumor) Part I

When We Don’t See a Purpose