Today marked the beginning of soccer season.

This is how my day went:

Some ungodly hour: Working Boy’s alarm goes off and he hurries off to work, in an effort to be back in time to help with the soccer run (around). 

Less ungodly hour: I wake up, shower, go downstairs and realise that we are almost out of milk. Divide the remaining milk between the Nespresso aerocino and Baby N’s bottle (it is unclear whose need is greater). Top up bottle with water and offer kids custard and fruit for breakfast. Celebrations all round.

8.45am: Tell Master T it’s time to get ready for soccer.

8.46am: Master T looks at me sheepishly and says “I don’t want to do soccer after all”.

8.47am: I internally celebrate. 

8.49am: Master T says “Actually I think I do want to do it”. My heart sinks. I reply “Fine, let’s get you dressed”.

8.50am: Master T looks at me sheepishly and says “I don’t want to do soccer after all”.

8.51am: I internally celebrate.

8.55am: J, who is also playing soccer this year, asks who is on his team. I read out the team. Master T asks me to read out the names of his (former) team. “I can’t decide whether to play. It’s such a hard decision” he says. “Well decide now, because if you’re going to play, we need to leave in 20 minutes,” I reply. “Okay, I’m not playing,” deems Master T. (Yeah, you can see where this going, can’t you?).

9.15am: I put Baby N in highchair for (late) breakfast.

9.20am: Master T appears and says “I am going to do soccer after all”.

 “But everyone is in their pyjamas and we’ll need to leave in 10 minutes to make it on time,” I say. “Where are my soccer clothes?” Master T replies.

9.21am: I find soccer clothes.

9.22am: I begin screaming like a banshee for First Born, First Born’s friend who stayed over, J and Master T to get dressed. Start slapping on make up and clothes, trying to brush teeth simulateously.

9.24am: Catch sight of Master T putting on socks. “Shin pads!” I screech. “You need shin pads!”. “I don’t know where they are”, says Master T.

9.25am: More Banshee. Go looking for shin pads.

9.26am:  Find shin pads and tell First Born to help Master T with them.

9.28am: “I’ll just get my sneakers”, says Master T. “Soccer boots!” I screech. “You need your soccer boots!”. He looks at me blankly. I head up to his room. No soccer boots. I look in coat cupboard. No soccer boots.

9.33am: Eventually find soccer boots on a shelf in the garage. 

9.35am: Grab some clothes for Baby N, some water for Master T.

9.40am: Wipe down Baby N and pile him and the other 4 kids into the car. 

Arrive at soccer 15 minutes late and collapse in a triumphant pile. The soccer field is quite a fashionable place. I forgot this in our rush to get out.  So how did we play? 

First Born and his friend were fine. Casual separates, suitable attire for “disinterested older brother and friend of disinterested older brother”. They dressed themselves, so no credit taken.

Master T and J were both in their soccer uniforms (we had a short turnover between when Master T finished his match and when J began his warm up, 20 minutes away). And the boots. The beautiful soccer boots. I LOVE buying them soccer boots each year. Gorgeous, shiny, bright. The louder the better. Being that they play more for social than sporty reasons, I buy the bottom of the range. But even the cheaper ones are fab. Maybe this is because the cheaper ones still cost $49.95 for Master T (from Shoes and Sox) and (close your eyes Working Boy) $79.95 for J (from Athlete’s Foot). Here they are:

Glorious aren’t they?

Baby N did not fare so well. We arrived and he was wearing a hand me down Mickey Mouse pyjama t-shirt. It had a line of custard down it. I got some Bonds tracksuit pants on him, and then he ran off shouting “Goccer! Goccer!” and relied on his natural charm rather than sartorial prowess for the hour. By the afternoon he was looking pretty cute though:

(You can’t see, but the hoody has dinosaur spikes running down from the front of the hood all the way to the bottom of the jacket). 

And as for me…..well “Soccer Mum” is not a category that comes naturally to me. And in our soccer league, you have to know that you are going to see roughly half the community.  There are some mums who dress as though they themselves may be called onto the field at any minute (thank G-d this does not seem to be protocol).  And I’m thinking this is not a bad idea because it would give me a great excuse to get stuck into the Country Road fitness collection…..but generally I try to go for casual. I don’t like dressing up on Sundays. But I don’t want to look like a slob. So casual, but put together. And warm. Siberia has nothing on the cliffs of Vaucluse (uh….I imagine). But I don’t want to be hot before I get there. The stress of getting there is enough to keep me cosy on the way.

This morning there was no time to cultivate any look. So I grabbed by brand new Lee Matthews poncho, just gifted to me by good old MOS-G. It’s half a poncho, half a wrap and half a blanket (it multitasks so hard it’s more like 1.5 pieces of clothing). It’s cotton & cashmere which means it’s light but cosy.

   To save from looking like I’d gone outside wearing a blanket (although this is an acceptable look at the mo), I wrapped a recently purchased super thin leather strap/ belt (check out @thefrocknyc on Instagram – who are the lovely ladies who sell them) to hold my blanket together…..and abracadabra, I was chic and warm but not overdressed. Score. 

XOXO Shopping Girl

P.S. Stay tuned for Part Two on Tuesday, where we somehow go to soccer training simultaneously with our guitar and piano lessons……