Scattered Landmines

nine

"I think they are home," I sarcastically tell Nancy, and we both laugh because they are loud enough for the neighbors to hear and want to call the authority to issue a noise complaint.

"Mom! Cami brought her friend home with her!" Brooks howls running straight for me.

"I know, how was your day?" I ask, giving him a hug and peck on the head.

He hands me a ripped piece of paper with a number written on it. "Boring, but Tom's dads is the soccer coach. So I got his phone number for you to call him. They have practice three days a week and a game every Saturday. Tom said I could ride with him tomorrow after school." Brooks informs me while loudly crunching on a carrot.

This is the longest he has gone without playing a sport of some sort since he was two. Before he started school, I had him in all different kinds of activities. Now I understand that it was more that I felt pressured into keeping up with all the other stay at home mothers, filling up my young toddler's schedule with different social activities Monday through Friday during the week. I recognize that even as a mother, I am faced with the competition and judgments of parenting. These women use their children as chess pieces, and if their child happens to be more skilled or involved with something than yours, it's checkmate bitch.

"Get your homework out. I'll text him in just a little bit," I say and enter Cami with her friend Maysie into the kitchen.

"Mays, this is my mom, Rosalie. You can call her Ro, Rosalie, or mom. Mom, this is Maysie," Cami huffs as if it is a burden to her to introduce me to her friend.

"Hi Maysie, it's so nice to meet you. Did you two have a good day at school?" I ask the extremely tall blonde that looks a couple of years older than Cami.

"Yes, ma'am. It was brill. Thank you for having me over." Her friend seems to be polite with better manners than Cami. One can only hope that some of that will rub off on Cami the more she surrounds her.

"You're welcome, and please, you don't have to call me ma'am." Maysie nods her head and shyly smiles, becoming pink in the cheeks.

"Let's go and do our homework in my room. Can we take this snack plate with us upstairs?" Cami asks, looking at me expectantly while grabbing it regardless of my answer.

"Sure, but don't fill up on that. Dinner will be ready in an hour and a half."

"Thank you," they say in unison and make their way to Cami's room.

Maysie is what I would picture most English women to resemble. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and flawless buttermilk skin. If I had to guess, I would say she stands around five feet eight inches, and I can only assume that her mother and father must be tall as well.

After helping Brooks with his homework and setting the table while Nancy prepares my favorite shrimp and pasta dish, I fetch my phone from my purse and grab the phone number Brooks gave me to reach out to the soccer coach. Because it's around dinner time, I decide to text now instead of the possibility of interrupting evening routines.

Me: Hello. I hope you don't mind me texting, but Tom gave your number to my son Brooks. I wanted to inquire about my son joining your soccer team. He seems to have become fast friends with Tom.

As soon as I hit send, I see the bubble from the coach replying to me.

Coach: Don't mind at all. Football practice is after school at Bowthorpe Park Monday, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Game days are always at different fields. It's a fifteen-minute commute from school, and I don't mind your son riding with us. I know Tom would like that. We can discuss financials in person.