It's the moment when your cruising down the road, jammin' away to Phillip Phillips, "Gone, Gone, Gone" feeling totally cool (I mean you couldn't be any cooler), and you come to a stop at a red light. A soccer ball bangs into the back of the console. You look down around and see pieces of goldfish, toy cars, a booster seat, and dried grass from all the time spent at the soccer fields. You realize that by your standards an Expedition may be a "cool" car, but the standards of any 20 year old, you're cruising in a "mom wagon". And it hits you. You are not a cool 20 year old or even 25 year old. Heck you may not even be cool at all. You are indeed a 32 year old soccer mom . . .
And you know, I wouldn't have it any other way. I like being a 32 year old soccer mom, and I'm hoping that in the near future when I look behind me there will be two car seats staring me in the face. Because y'all being a soccer mom is a
whole lot more than it's cracked up to be. But just to put your minds at rest, I won't be trading up for mom jeans any time soon. I do have standards.
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