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.

I love seeing these guys on the freeway. Dawned in their leather jackets with their distressed laptop computer bags snug close to them in a fashionable and cool way that never works for me. Jamming down the open road of the interstate they haven’t got a care.

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.

Yet I am a rebel of my own sort, but I have a cause, to raise my kids in this beautiful cement jungle to a place of normalcy. It’s a challenge I have chosen to take and take very seriously. I have my own cool tattoos, but it came out of a cereal box and my kids put in on me upsidown.

My life is not for the squeamish. It takes a lot to do twenty loads of laundry a week and survive with soft skin. I drive on the open road and change lanes with skill to get my kids to guitar practice and dentist appointments. I am always ready with fruit snacks in my bag or an extra pony tail holder in assorted colors should an emergency arise.

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 pass me cool urban man, you couldn’t handle my life. It is paved with fears that you are not ready to face. Enjoy your single hood while you can, because your days are numbered as well until you are in the carpool lane with me too listening to PSP’s in your ear while you brave the urban jungle yet another day.

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