Mini Warrior

An Ode To The Urban Warrior, The Soccer Mom

There is nothing like the vivacious vibe of the urban rebel I see on the freeways of Los Angeles every day. I see him looking so cool and hip. I wonder where he is going. He is most likely a great guy with a killer job in the entertainment industry, maybe the writer of the next big hit.

As he passes me I wonder if he’s going to go meet with his celebrity girlfriend or produce the next hit song. He slows down by me in his designer coat with his leather laptop computer bags swaying in the breeze of the fresh LA air. He acts like life is his oyster and he is never late but always on time because ‘he’ is there.

As he passes me I look for just a second to see design tattoos on his neck just under his helmet. He has another one on his wrist just the right size, not too auspicious. As he slows down ever so slowly to make sure I don’t run him over he gives me a little wink with the knowledge that I appreciate his coolness.

How cool it would be to be on a bike. But my speed is more of an off road Yamaha ATV. Besides how would I fit all these kids on the back of my bike? Yes, I am a soccer mom and there is no way I could fit all my kid’s stuff on that bike.

Alas I have chosen the life of the urban soccer mom. We are a proud race who barrel down the freeway so we aren’t late for an oboe lesson or football game. My tattoo however is pretty cool. I got it from a box of cereal the other day and it really rocks, you can’t beat Sponge bob.

And I am not alone. Out there on the open road I see a dozens of me driving the same range to and from school, the market and the dry cleaners. We are bold in our outerwear of practical denim and our bags of steel that can hold up to twenty snacks for any emergency.

Yes we are the proud, the many, the unafraid mothers of America who will go into battle over a parking spot or sit for hours to support a little league. We will put our own selves to the side to sell nuts at Christmas and love our children with all we have. We are a proud growing race that will live on to the next Mother’s day knowing we are important, respected and most likely have a stain on our shirts.

So hats off to you the rebel man who passes me on the freeway of life every day. And secretly I know you are winking at me because you have a mother as well who supported you. In that little wink you say thank you for me being there for my kids. And while he passes me he is thankful he is not in the car with me listening to Teletubbies.

Alessi brothers from Mini Warriors