That's TOO HOT, Mommy!

It's 9 a.m. on Saturday morning. The house is empty and quiet. A typical Brandon mom may be starting to flip pancakes or fry up bacon (which I would possibly be doing next weekend), but this weekend I am childless. Divorced since 2005, my custody arrangement proclaims that this particular weekend is his father's. Nevertheless, "mom duties" are not ignored.

And what "mom duty" is that? Flag Football.

Cue the "soccer mom" reference, but I am no soccer mom. As a matter of fact, I really can't stand the yuppies that do nothing but talk about their kids all day long. We all have that friend . . .

I like to think of myself as an "un-mom".

Do I love my kid? ABSOLUTELY, but that child certainly does not DEFINE all the wonderful pieces that add up to be me. And if he did, that house of cards would certainly fall when he enters into his teen years, right?

But enough about all of that, let's get back to the story at hand.

Saturday mornings are the worst because, like most divorced women do, I decided to "enhance" myself a few years back. During meetings and business occasions I certainly can dress professionally, without the fear of looking like I belong in a seedy place on Adamo Drive, but, alas comes Saturday morning.

Let's face it, it is sweltering hot in Florida in April. And since my genetics have made it ridiculous for me to wear shorts (thanks for the tree trunks mom and dad!), I try to stick to something comfortable like sun-dresses, knowing full-well that I have at least one full hour of sitting in the sun ahead of me.

Each Saturday morning, either alone or with my 10-year-old son, we play a little game known as, "Does this look appropriate or is mommy going to embarrass you?" This game is much easier when my son is around, because he can quickly determine whether I would embarrass him or not. On this particular Saturday, however, he is with his dad, so now it is just me trying to figure it out.

Throw in the fact that his father is the coach, with his ever-pregnant wife always around, I also never want to flaunt my, ehem décolletage, too much out of respect. But what do you do when it is almost 100 degrees and no matter what you put on, you look like a stripper?

Many times, I will add extra material to the top, covering any cleavage, and then sometimes, I just say, "Hell, let 'em talk, who cares?" I imagine the latter mode of thinking will create friction between my son and I as he gets older, but in the mean time, he will just tell me how he feels. Luckily, I am the adult and he is the child, so my opinion usually wins.

This situation would not even be an issue if we lived in a state like Virginia, where the weather is cool, but here in Brandon, I know I am not the only one who struggles with extreme heat and attempting to fit in with the "Mom" dress code.

Are you a local unconventional mom? Comment here and tell me your story . . .