If someone did to our free time what we do to kids' free time

Imagine an adult working a job. Maybe this job is 25 hours a week, maybe 40. It doesn't really matter. When this adult is not at work, she or he is experiencing what is called "free time," the time they can use however they wish. 

Most adults, because they are adults and have responsibilities, must spend part of that time doing stuff that keeps them alive: cooking, shopping, cleaning. 

But the rest of the time is theirs to read, play video games, sleep on the couch, watch Golden Girls, play sports, smoke pot, whatever. 

Now imagine if someone said to this adult:

"You must do something productive with your free time even if you don't want to. You have to join a rotary club or a politically-minded group. You have to go to book club three nights a week. You can no longer just enjoy your free time as you want. You have to engage in something that will 'improve' you in some way."

How pissed would you be?

I expect most adults would be furious. How dare someone tell them what to do with their free time?

And yet, it seems to me that parents often do this with their own kids. 

I think the reasons for this are complicated:

First, it can be hard for parents to understand that their children are not smaller/younger mockups of them: "I played football and love football, and therefore I want my child to play and love football." And maybe the parent encourages (pushes) the child into something that the child maybe feels meh about. 

Parents have also bought into this notion that if their kid hasn't set the world on fire by the time they are 17, it's over for them. Like kids have to pack in all these experiences before they go off to college (or to get into college), and if they don't....god help them. If our kids aren't little mockups of us, they are moldable blobs of clay that we are shaping into the next big success or the next awesome scholarship recipient. (The media, colleges, and high schools promote this and feed on the anxiety.)

[Personally, I think if you peak at 17 you're in for a rather disappointing life. I had a good high school experience but FFS, it wasn't the be-all and end-all.]

Of course, there are some kids who legit want to be involved in everything. I was that kid in high school. The paragraph next to my senior photograph is probably six inches long with all the stuff I was involved in. But by the time I got into college, I didn't want to join shit because I was freaking tired from the previous four years. It just wore me out rather than making me a bigger, stronger, faster version of myself (like the Six Million Dollar Woman). 

I'm so much more than I was in college, and I want to scream it from the rooftops to quit putting unnecessary pressure on young people. 

It seems pretty important to let kids be kids, even if it means they don't join stuff, if all they do is go to school, pass their classes, and come home (like my sons do). If G and M wanted to join something, I would encourage them, and sometimes I ask if they'd be interested in something I may hear about at their school, but when they say "no," I don't insist. 

D was never a joiner in school and sometimes I think he regrets it. And maybe one day my sons will regret it, but it is THEIR LIFE and, honestly, their problem. I would rather them be mad at themselves one day because they didn't get involved than be resentful of me because I made them do stuff they didn't want to do. And, lord knows, I don't need a fight. 

It's hard enough to get them to do the basic stuff like wash their hair and wear deodorant and reply back to their grandparents' text messages. If they don't want to do judo or be in the chess club or play with the orchestra, that's fine. 

The kids who are joiners will join, and you won't have to twist their arms to do it. The kids who don't want to join may not want to join now (on your time table), but they may do it one day when they are inclined. And then there are some who will never join anything and will be perfectly fine with it, even if it makes their parent's eye twitch. 

Pandemic parenting expectations after reading a novel about a pandemic

I finished Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel a few days ago, and it made me feel much better about my inability and/or refusal to even attempt to make my kids' lives normal right now.

Normal is over.
And I don't know if this is temporary or permanent.

I do not have the mental energy to do anything more than keep my kids fed, relatively clean, and ensure they survive.
I'm not worried at all about whether their reading or math scores decline as a result of NTI this past spring.
I'm not worried that they aren't reaching whatever "potential" they might have.
I don't know that too many people right now are meeting their greatest potential.
Because self-actualization becomes not so critical in unique situations such as these.
Maybe there are some people, but I'm not one of them.

In St. John Mandel's novel, the pandemic that impacts the world kills somewhere around 99% of the population, and it does so within 48 hours, which I think is a mercy.
There are few things worse than unknowns and uncertainties as far as I'm concerned.
If COVID-19 were far more deadly, perhaps people would be taking it more seriously than they are.
Although I doubt it.

When my kids were younger, it was easier to have "engagement" summers.
They were happy to play in the backyard or go where I thought would be a fun spot.
Now they are older; they don't care, and I don't care enough to fight with them about it.
And during a COVID summer, my anxiety at being out among other humans, most of whom aren't wearing masks, is greater than my desire to have my kids doing self-actualization activities.
We won't be going to museums or malls or anywhere that we don't absolutely have to go.

A parent I interviewed for a magazine article recently said that either she or her husband go to the store "as tribute," which I thought was the most brilliant thing ever and am now applying to my life.

We have always kept the bar pretty low for entertaining our children, and I am so glad for that practice now.

As I read the aforementioned book, it occurred to me that kids in this pandemic mostly 1. died or 2. had to survive in ways that were probably horrible.
Their parents, were they even still alive, were far too busy finding food or drowning in their own psychological trauma to worry too much about their kids being engaged.

We had a meeting about field hockey, and while I will support N, I also am the type of person who doesn't like to invest too much effort and energy into something that seems fairly unlikely to happen.

This is, of course, the exact opposite of sports enthusiasts who want to be prepared and "ready to play" should the season actually happen.

My personal feeling is that the schools are going to find it difficult enough to figure out how to educate during COVID; I think they aren't going to think it is worth the effort, headache, and liability of extracurricular activities.
I just don't think they are saying this as yet.
But I suspect they will.

Whatever conditioning occurs will be an effort in "pretending to care about sports during pandemic" for me, although this, in truth, isn't too far from my normal "pretending to care about sports" status.

There is an awful lot of going through the motions for me now.
Which may also be permanent or temporary.
Uncertainty is cruel. 

That annoying middle child made me proud

Yesterday was kind of a banner day for G, and he doesn't often have banner days.

He woke me up before 7:00 am, fully dressed in nice-for-him clothes (khaki pants and a collared shirt), telling me he had already practiced his speech for the regional science fair. He even wore a long-sleeved shirt under his collared shirt which, had I asked him to do this, would have been sensory hell for him.

He had been working for weeks on wearing these pants and getting used to them so he could attend the science fair dressed appropriately.

Even though I offered him his Ipad to play with while he waited to be judged, he turned it down.

He found friends to have lunch with and left his mom alone (which made mom really happy).

I was super proud of him...not because he got some special award or won anything at all...but because he showed responsibility, didn't complain, and took being in an unfamiliar setting with unfamiliar people in stride.

The reflection after the drama

So I've done four interviews about the hullabaloo at the school.
I have tried to state the facts to the best of my knowledge, with my knowledge including things that I was told after Saturday, like how parents tried to get the school to relax the dress code.

I have tried to stay away from social media because it makes me second guess myself.
The people who say things like, "You knew the rules and didn't follow them."

But then, before I doubt myself too much, I'm reminded of other rules that people in other times and places have been supposed to follow.
They were posted, and if people didn't follow them, they should just suffer the consequences.
They told you, and you didn't do what they said.

Like segregated water fountains.
And interracial marriage.
And the ability to be gay and love who you want.
And the freedom to worship as you want.
Not that I even remotely equate a dress code to these, but the way these rules, including a dress code, make people feel is the same.
Less than.
Not worthy.
Inadequate.
Inferior.

I have always been a rule-questioner, which is why organized religion and I don't always get along.
I have always tried to ask myself, "What is right?" with rightness being determined mostly by the Golden Rule.
Treat other people the way you want to be treated.
I have never, in my life, had my clothing measured unless I was paying someone to alter them.
Why would I want anyone to measure my daughter's clothing to tell her whether she was appropriate enough to attend a school dance?

Oh Jesus. It's dress code bullshit again

N's high school decided to attempt to enforce it's dress code at homecoming dance last night. I say attempted because dress codes are subjective and difficult to consistently enforce. Because I recognize this and had such an impossible task last year when trying to find a dress for my 5'8" daughter to wear that came down to 2 inches above the knee, I saved photos on my computer of girls who were let into last year's dance as evidence (if I ever needed it) of how arbitrary the dress code is.

I had those photos and a sign that said "Down w/ Sexist Dress Codes" when I went up to her school last night after getting calls/texts from my daughter and mom friends who said girls were being measured with RULERS at the dance.

Many were told they could not come in. Many students were milling around the parking lot waiting on their parents to get them when the police told them they were trespassing and had to leave. Many were kids I stood with on the sidewalk and waited for their parents to come since no high school staff waited with the kids. No police waited with them either.

I called my school board member. I emailed the principal. I encouraged the students to politely email the principal. I encourage everyone whose son didn't go into the dance because his date wasn't allowed into the dance to email the principal.

Below is my letter to the principal and the board member. It is followed by the letter my daughter sent her teachers and staff to let them know how it affected her. It is a little heartbreaking, and I don't have much of a heart to begin with.

My Letter

I understand that EHS has the right to establish a dress code. 

However, the problem with dress codes is that they generally affect female students, and they are horribly subjective in nature. An identical dress that comes to 2 inches above the knee on one girl may be 4 inches above the knee for another girl. 

EHS has been completely inconsistent regarding dress codes to dances. I have photos of dresses that were allowed into the homecoming dance in 2018. These dresses were above 2 inches. They look, in terms of length, IDENTICAL to the dresses of girls that were not let into the dance this evening. I am happy to provide these photos to you so you can see just how inconsistent EHS has been. 

I spoke with one young woman tonight who was not allowed in because of cleavage. Her friend, who had similar cleavage, was allowed in. This student provided me a photo as well. 

A young man not wearing a tie was not allowed into tonight's dance. Another young man wearing jeans WAS allowed into the dance. While girls received the bulk of the inconsistency from ESH administration, some young men felt it, as well. 

You may say "we have posted the dress code regularly since time immemorial," and that is the truth. However, having a dress code and consistency enforcing a dress code are two very different things. 

Additionally, I'm not sure EHS staff understands that parents purchase the dresses that are available to purchase in stores. I don't know a single mother who wouldn't love to find the "Hit at the Kneecap" dress shop, but this shop doesn't exist. 

With all due respect, the homecoming dance was a complete shitshow. 

By the time I arrived because my daughter was scared of all the hullabaloo and called me, the police were there and told everyone, including groups of students waiting for their parents to pick them up, that they must get off the property. No EHS staff members came out to supervise the students as far as I could see, therefore another mom and I stood on the front sidewalk on OS Road to ensure the kids got picked up. As far as I'm concerned, this went from a dress code issue and became a safety issue for these students. 

At the very least, there needs to be a community discussion with EHS staff and parents to try to resolve this issue that has angered many, many parents. 

Her Letter

In this email, I have included teachers that I had last year and now have this year, and administrators. Please share this with other teachers who want change about this pressing matter. 

You’re probably aware of the chaos that took place tonight at the homecoming dance, but I would like to tell you about my experience and spread the word. It would mean a lot to me if you read this whole thing and could understand what happened. 

I was so excited to spend time with my friends this year at the homecoming dance. We spent lots of time doing our makeup and hair beforehand and lots of money for our outfits. We were eating dinner when we received texts from friends about the administrators using rulers to measure dresses and being super strict. 

When we arrived at school for the dance, there was a large crowd of people outside the doors in the upper lot. We had heard that they weren’t letting many people in because of the length of their skirts. I was even told that some guys weren’t allowed because they weren’t wearing a tie. I stood outside with my friends for over an hour, waiting to get through the doors. We didn’t even make it inside the building until a long time after the dance started. 

While we were waiting, I witnessed many groups of girls exiting the building, some even crying. They had been told to leave because of their skirt length. The rule was to the knee, but people received an email that stated “dresses must be no more than 2 inches above the knee.” I understand how some people weren’t allowed in, but most girls with respectable and completely appropriate dress lengths were discriminated against. 

I have attached pictures of me and my friends, all in our dresses that me and many other people think are appropriate. I also attached the email that I received. After groups of people had left the building, they were standing in the parking lot waiting for a ride because they were just kicked out. The police had parked a car in front of the sidewalk, (picture attached) and had ordered people to leave the property. I know a group of girls who had stood on the sidewalk somewhere, and my mom drove up to come wait with them until they got picked up safely. (Picture attached.) 

When my friends and I finally made it inside, I did the breathalyzer and stepped up to the ID table. They acknowledged my friend as being a teacher at school’s daughter, and allowed her to proceed without measuring. My other friend asked if we could be measured before showing anything or paying. We were told to just show our IDs and then we’d get measured, so we did. 

I stepped up to the administrator and her immediate reaction was a scowl. She told me that I wasn’t going to cut it. The administrator then told me to pull my dress down to the longest length I could, and measured it from there. She told me that I “barely made it,” and told me I was okay. I turned around and started bawling. At this point I knew I wasn’t staying, but I needed to hear it anyways. Someone hugged me and my group then turned around and left. We were absolutely horrified, and felt embarrassed and violated. We had just been told that covering our bodies was more important than having fun. My friend was not refunded her $10 after we left, and now the sophomore class will not have enough money for our senior activities. This dance was our main source of profit for these activities, and our night was completely ruined. We had been looking forward to this for awhile, and were very let down by our school and the administration. 

After this awful incident, me and many others are asking for change. I know many girls who wasted money and time to dress up for this dance, and a number of guys who were angry and upset because their girlfriends or girls they knew were objectified. This was many people’s first date, first high school dance, or last high school homecoming dance. This whole situation makes me sick to my stomach and even hours after, I still feel nauseous. Everyone is upset, and I am not going to let this go until change is enforced. I hope you can understand, and maybe try to bring more attention to the subject. I am now scared to go to school on Monday because of the consequences that might be awaiting. Thank you for your time, and have a good night. 

1. Shut your shit-hole and 2. Working towards character-building

Part I: Shut Your Shithole

The president is a toxic person. I would like to tell him to shut his shit-hole, that not every thought that dashes through his head is correct or relevant or worth giving air to. I don't think he's a genius. I think that what you see is what you get.

There is a part of me that would like certain politicians to say out loud what all of us know to be true, that the president is a dick, but I understand why they do not.

I have worked with assholes. They are simply assholes, and even if you called them out on it, they would still be assholes, and perhaps even bigger assholes than they were to begin with. Everyone who works with them knows they are assholes.

When I taught full-time, there was a teacher in my department who was one of these "honest" speakers (as the president is considered to be). I never told her off, even though I thought she was crass and annoying and bitchy. She made people feel small, and she was intimidating. She wasn't warm and fuzzy or welcoming or even nice.

I never called her out on her crassness or bitchiness because it really didn't matter. That is what and who she was. I felt sorry for her in many ways. Perhaps she lived in a bubble and didn't know or suspect what people thought of her, but I suspect she knew and either 1. didn't care or 2. did care but convinced herself that she didn't care and couldn't really change her personality anyway.

I suspect that everyone in Washington who works in any capacity with the president does what my former colleagues and I did with this teacher. We knew what we were up against, we did what we had to do to get through the day, and we rolled our eyes at each other behind her back, knowing full well that we wished she would shut her shit-hole.

Some people are simply assholes. It is unfortunate that one of them is in such a respected seat of responsibility and power.

Part 2: Working towards character-building

John Wooden's quote, "The true test of a man's character is what he does when no one is watching," is certainly true, but there are some who would argue that it is also what you do when everyone is watching. Character is who you are, and character is tested no matter how old you get.

I had a situation this past week in which my character was tested.

My Girl Scout troop met at our local school for one of our bi-monthly meetings. In the past, when it gets close to cookie booth time, I have used some of the tools in the teacher's workroom to help make letters for our booth poster. I know how to use these machines, and I have instructed my girls in how to use them. I bring my own paper so I'm not using school resources.

This past week, the girls accidentally cracked two of the plastic pieces that are used with the machines. These pieces aren't expensive, and they are certainly well-worn. Perhaps they would have cracked no matter who used them. But I felt terrible about it.

I could have just let it go. There are lots of people, including parent volunteers, who use these plastic pieces. Anyone could have cracked them, and no one would have been the wiser.

But I could not do that and, to be honest, I could not do that out of fear.

If I didn't acknowledge that our troop had done it, I wondered all the "what ifs." What if the custodian who saw us in the room overhead someone talking about it and "told" on us? I would much, much rather take my knocks and face whatever consequences than be "found out." How mortifying would that be? Much more mortifying than admitting that we'd cracked a piece of plastic.

It reminded me of a similar situation that happened to me in the 7th grade.

I cheated on a religion test (there is some irony there, eh?).

And some people in class saw that I cheated and told me they saw me.
They never told on me because before they did, I told on myself.
I could not abide the idea of knowing I did something wrong, hiding it, and then being found out. That was worse than just taking my consequences and getting a zero.

How funny that I haven't changed that much since the 7th grade.

I was scared to send that email to the principal. Scared because I don't know how much the pieces cost. I didn't think they would be that much, but Girl Scouts troops generally aren't rolling in piles of money. Scared because I didn't want her to think badly of me for not supervising the girls as closely as I should have.

But I was willing to have her think whatever she thinks and for us to pay whatever we have to pay in order not to feel bad about myself. In order for me to feel at peace on the inside, even in the midst of feeling fear.

And I like to think that even if the person is disappointed in me, they know that I don't lie or hide. They know that I try to have a solid character even when I could have done otherwise.

Trying to raise adults

I am nearly finished reading a book that has been on my radar for a while: How to Raise an Adult: Break Free of the Overparenting Trap and Prepare Your Kid for Success by Julie Lythcott-Haims.

It has made me look at what we (D and I) are doing to raise our kids.
I saw "we," but the truth is that I am, in most ways, the captain of this child-rearing ship.
Partly, this responsibility lands on me because I am more of a control freak than D.
Also, he hates conflict more than anything, and conflict is part of raising children.
Conflict comes from saying to your children, "No, you cannot do whatever you want" or "No, I'm not giving you whatever you want."
Conflict may also come in the very real need for children to assert independence from their parents: "No, I do not believe whatever it is you believe."
Partly, the fact that I was a stay-at-home mom for many years means I had the bulk of child-rearing decisions and input. He deferred to me then and still does.
Also, I think he thinks I know stuff about kids because of teaching.

One of my great fears is that I will die before our kids are grown, and D will be left to parent alone. I worry that his desire to avoid conflict would mean he does more for our children than he should just to avoid listening to them whine, bitch, and moan.
I don't mind conflict, and I especially don't mind conflict when I am the mom and the risk of me not engaging in conflict is having children who grow up thinking they can walk over others, do whatever they want, not work hard, and so on.

When I was a kid, I always had a distinct feeling that my parents didn't like me very much.
I now realize that my parents loved me very much but did not indulge me. They didn't think I was all that and a bag of chips to the point where I knew they thought I was all that and a bag of chips.

I seem to have that same ability to know that my kids are pretty great but keep it under wraps fairly well. My kids probably sometimes think I think they are "meh."
I hate it when my kids are disappointed, but I do not ask for special favors or try to pull strings or anything like that.

Based on this book, I think we're mostly doing ok with our kids.
Not perfect, but we're trying to teach them responsibility and empathy.
We're not trying to make everything wonderful all the time, to remove any obstacles in their way.  We are trying to help them become resilient and be able to apply grit to their lives.

I have been wondering whether I'm completely screwing up M lately because of piano class.

He has been in this class for 4 years; G has been in it with us for 3 years.
It is an amazing program to help children learn to read music, play piano, play recorder and play a little guitar. (It has helped me learn all these things as well, so really it is a 3-for-2 deal.)

With that being said, we are all ready to be done with it. We need a break, but we are in our last 2 months of class. The boys have their recital at the end of February, and it is like a lifetime until the end of February because M hates.hates.hates practicing.
G, on the other hand, just sits down and practices without tears or fighting or fidgeting.
I have been making M do it, and he complains.
I finally reached my breaking point and said he didn't have to perform in the recital, but he did have to go and watch G perform in the recital.
He complained about that, too.
I finally just said to him, "If I tell you to practice, you throw a fit. If I tell you you don't have to practice and will play in the recital unprepared, you throw a fit. If I tell you you don't have to perform in the recital at all, you throw a fit. I can't win."
After this, he decided to practice on his own without too much trouble, so we'll see how the next few weeks go.

(G "gets" music better than M does. I just don't think M has any natural ability or interest the way N and G do. I'm not even going to bother M with taking an instrument in middle school. I really just don't care anymore and don't feel like fighting him over it. I'm not sure what M's niche is, but I don't think it is music.)

I have told M he never, ever, ever, ever has to take another music lesson for the rest of his life after the recital, and then he cried because I said that, and he says he wants to take guitar one day.

Wall. Meet My Head.

There is a part of me that wonders why I'm doing this to him and me, but I knew when we started in late August that we were on the final stretch, and I think there is something to making your kid stick out something relatively short-lived just to finish it up.
Of course, short-lived to 40-something me is very different than to an 8-year-old child.

But there is another part of me that thinks I'm a complete idiot for making him follow through because he is just really done.

So am I helping him develop grit and stick-to-it-ness?
Or am I being a ruthless, short-sighted Tiger Mom?
The fact that I gave him an out to not even be in the recital but he opted to practice on his own and had a better attitude about it makes me think maybe it's a power struggle and when I gave up power, he was ok again.
Of course, we haven't practiced today so he may lose his damn mind this evening.

I don't always always don't know what I'm doing to raise these kids, but I'm glad there are books like the one I'm reading that help me feel good about the things I'm doing well and give me ideas for how to handle the stuff I'm uncertain about.
This book, in particular, is a reminder that I could do everything "right" (whatever that is), and my kids are their own people who have designs for their lives that may not be anything like what I envision. There is a whole lot I cannot control.
All I can know is that I tried my best and turned to experts to guide me. 

Really, I don't have snarky comments (ok, maybe just one) about the sports banquet

Last week was N's field hockey banquet.  It was my first such event.

It was very nice, took a huge amount of effort and organization on the part of its coordinators, and it meant so much to N.  She and the other girls were excited and had fun.

Following the meal, each of the coaches gave out awards to their players.  I appreciated N's coach because she kept her awards' delivery short and sweet.  N received "Most Improved Offense."  I don't actually know what that means, but whatever it is, she has improved so I'm happy.

It was at this point that the internal snark came out.  Technically, it is/was not directed at any of the particular coaches; it is/was aimed at all sports players/coaches around the world.  I have had occasions to listen to televised interviews of sports figures, and they are the most redundant, nonsensical things I've ever heard.  It makes Through the Looking Glass and other Lewis Carroll fare seem like ludicity.

At the awards banquet, it took quite a long time to say what might have been summed up in one sentence:  "Players gave their all, gave 110% and rocked it." The Carrie way to have an awards ceremony in under 2 minutes.

The awards took long enough that I played with my phone and seriously considered grabbing my book from my purse until it was over.

But all the while I was having these "please.STOP.TALKING" thoughts, I felt guilty, which is why after we returned home and got the kids to bed, I sent a thank you email to the coach, coordinator and parents of N's team.

Although I grouched about the 3-times-a-week practice and rolled my eyes at all the goody bags and "team spirit" things, the whole point of it was to team- and friendship-build, and the girls loved it.  They are 11-year-olds who thrive on that stuff.

It occurred to me that I should be thankful for the parents and coaches who put the energy into these little things.  Just because I think they are unnecessary and pointless doesn't mean they actually are.  My reality isn't everyone's reality; my disinterest isn't everyone's disinterest.

Especially not my daughter's, who is already talking about next year's field hockey season (heaven help me).  

The disappointment of stupid parental dreams

N doesn't want to take piano lessons anymore.

We started lessons when she was 8, mostly on a whim.  She struggled with math, and I knew all the research about music instruction possibly helping kids with math.  Plus, I never took music lessons as a kid.  I went to parochial schools, and it wasn't even an option to learn instruments; there was no orchestra or band as there was/is in the public schools.  I wanted her (and the boys) to have some private musical instruction experience.

Since I didn't know how to read music, I began lessons, too, so that I could help her and maybe help motivate her.

Last year, she began playing viola in orchestra and continues now in 6th grade, although that may end too since she is talking about foregoing orchestra in 7th/8th.

Our last piano lesson was in late May, and she didn't touch the piano until last week when I made her in order to prepare to restart lessons.

She complained that she can't remember the notes because she is getting them confused with alto clef, which she uses for viola.  She just doesn't want to do it, but she won't say she doesn't want to do it because she doesn't want me to be disappointed in her.

What I had to explain to her today is that agreeing to do something you don't want to do just so someone else isn't mad at or disappointed in you never, ever results in them being pleased.  She doesn't want to play piano anymore, which means she has a terrible attitude about practicing, which makes me angry and frustrated.  It is better to disappoint me once than to continue to frustrate/disappoint me every time she half-ass practices.

I told her, "Yes, I will be disappointed that you stop playing piano, but I'll get over it."

And I will.

I also explained to her that parents sometimes feel disappointed in their kids, and it really has nothing to do with their kids.  It is them.  The problem is the parents.

Like after college, when I interviewed at a big cigarette company.  I was 21 and fresh out of undergrad.  I was offered a job making probably 40K in a supervisor position on a factory floor.  I turned it down and took an editing job where I started at 17K a year.  I didn't want to smell like menthol cigarettes, and I didn't want to supervise anyone, especially not someone 20+ years older than me who might rightfully resent some ding-dong telling him what to do.

My dad couldn't wrap his head around the fact that I turned down "such a great opportunity."  He was a manager at another big local company, so this sounded like an amazing position.  I didn't disappoint my dad, although I felt like it at the time.  He was disappointed because he would have loved to have that opportunity if he had been in my shoes.  But he wasn't, and I had to make a decision that I could live with.

As it turned out, working at the editing company allowed me to get my master's degree (and the company paid half the cost).  The cigarette company eventually closed down its plant here, so I would have been unemployed or had to move away from my family/friends.

I told N this story today, and I told her that sometimes she needs to just be honest with me and not worry about whether I'm disappointed.

And I need to remember that even though I think I don't have secret dreams for my kids, I really do deep down.  And I need to sometimes be disappointed that my kids' dreams aren't my own.  

What the what have I done? (I encouraged a sport)

Last week, a mom friend from the kids' elementary school texted me about field hockey tryouts at the middle school that both N and her daughter will be attending.  N was at Girl Scout camp, so I contacted the coach to see if she could tryout this week.  

The BACKGROUND:

One of my former (and now current) colleagues, who is also a friend and mom of 3 girls, had suggested getting involved in field hockey as a way for N to meet some girls and get more comfortable with middle school.  So I had talked to N about it as a possibility way back when she applied to this school.

Field hockey is not a sport played around these parts in elementary school, so pretty much every kid who comes into middle school has zero or very limited experience.  As it happens, this 6th grade team doesn't cut girls; basically, if you want to play, they will teach you.  

TRULY ANCIENT HISTORY BACKGROUND:

When I was in 4th grade, I tried out for basketball at my elementary school.  I'm sure I wasn't good, but I tried out anyway because I wanted to play.  They ended up having an "A" team, a "B" team and a "C" team.  I didn't even make the "C" team.  Even as an ignorant and immature 4th grader, it seemed to me that if you are going to rank the teams, why not just let all the idiots like me be on the "C" team to at least learn the game and practice.  This singular event turned me completely off from competitive sports and hate jocks.  Maybe there were non-competitive girls basketball leagues way back in 1982, but I didn't investigate nor did my parents.  My identity as an athletic person was destroyed at least until I got older. (I'm taking a graduate adolescent psychology class right now and feel like I have come full circle.)

Back to BACKGROUND:

Given the aforementioned ancient history, I wanted N to "tryout" for field hockey.  If she went the first night and hated it, I certainly wouldn't make her play.  It wouldn't bother me one iota to not schlep her to practices and buy equipment and go to games.  

But I figured this could be a win-win for her:

Meet girls=CHECK

Learn the game=CHECK

Don't have self-esteem destroyed=CHECK

Get exercise=CHECK

Possibly have fun=CHECK

MORE ANCIENT HISTORY BACKGROUND:

Mine and D's personalities can be understood pretty well in the following photographs:

These are from my senior yearbook.  I was the girl who was involved in high school from the get-go.  Was voted "Most Leadership" by my peers in the Senior Superlatives.

This is from D's senior yearbook:

His name.

I wanted to be involved and was probably OVER-involved.  

D didn't want to be involved and was probably UNDER-involved.  

To this day, I am the one who gets over-extended with activities, and he is the one who has to be forced by threat of death to do anything beyond the scope of work.  

The KIDS: 

M....he begins full-time school next month, so his interest in sports and other extracurricular activities remains to be seen.  

G seems to be like D---he has zero interest in doing clubs, teams, sports.  He wants to be left alone.  He is only in 2nd grade so I haven't nudged him out of his comfort zone.  Yet. 

N has shown interest in things and asked often in elementary to try sports.  She mentioned volleyball, basketball, cheerleading, cross country.  I let her do track because it didn't interfere too much with my life, and it met all the other qualifications:  

Meet friends=CHECK

Learn the game=CHECK

Don't have self-esteem destroyed=CHECK

Get exercise=CHECK

Possibly have fun=CHECK

In elementary school the most important thing was that it not interfere too much with my life.  My brief introduction to middle school sports, just based on the tome of notarized documents needed to even tryout, suggests that the older a kid gets, the more his/her involvement will interfere with my life.  I have to be prepared to change.  

D was concerned that N felt pressured by me to try out for field hockey, which made me worry.  I don't CARE whether she does it, but I also don't want her to shut the idea down without giving it a chance, without trying.  If you try, and it sucks, don't do it again.  But at least try.

Especially since we don't know if track is a no cut sport.  I hate for her to shut down this opportunity and then be cut from track (if she opts to do that in the spring).    D worries that N is like him and will go along with things even if she doesn't want to just to avoid conflict.  

And the whole time, including this whole bloggy post, I keep thinking, "All this internal rigamarole over field hockey."  But it isn't an isolated situation.  In parenting N (and G and M), D and I are pulling in our personalities, our failures, our successes, every experience and what we know to be true for ourselves.

But our kids aren't ourselves.  They are them.  

It is sometimes hard to remember that.  

Incongruous race

N and I spent 9 hours on Saturday at a state track meet.  There was nothing remarkable about the day, really, and yet there were things about it that felt remarkable.

I think it was because I finished reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

Because N was standing on the full-sun field for 3+ hours waiting to do long jump, I stood at the fence near the finish with sunscreen and water at the ready.  I read the book in fits and starts but would pay attention when the young adult athletes ran (poetic like gazelles), which is a completely different experience than seeing elementary kids run (fury of elephants).

These young adults were amazingly fit and fast and predominantly black.  As I stood watching them, holding The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn in my hands, with these runners' parents and/or peers on either side of me, I was struck by how incongruent this felt.

Here I was reading a novel about a white boy helping a slave, how Huck was struck repeatedly by the fact that Jim was human and not an animal as expected.  Huck lives in a society that considers blacks to be grossly inferior to whites, and yet, here I was seeing these athletes whose power and physique were staggering in their dominance.  It felt strange and wonderful to be in a certainly not perfect, but far better racial place.

What brought this sensation home and saddened me was when D and I started watching the film Selma later Saturday night and knowing full-well that there is still rampant prejudice; there are still efforts to subtly restrict voting rights.  There are still many people who believe blacks are inferior, who harbor within their hearts and minds a disdain and distrust of people who are not white.

And then last night reading The Book Thief and thinking of the similar hatred of the Jews in Nazi Germany.

How can you hate someone you don't know?
How can you hate an entire group of people?
How do you ignore their humanity?
How do you hold onto your own humanity and not succumb to hatred and mob mentality?  

GAH! There shouldn't even BE a 4th place

I like to think God has a sense of humor.  Sometimes I suspect he/she mocks me.

Yesterday, D took N to the awards ceremony for the district's elementary academic competitions.  I had been hoping she wouldn't win.

She placed 4th in fine arts.

There shouldn't even be a 4th place as far as I'm concerned.
(Does that make me an a-hole mom for saying that?)
(I don't care if it does.)

Both D and I made our comments:  "Imagine what place you could have come in if you'd actually prepared and studied for the assessment?"

Her response:  "Well, at least I got 4th."

I hate it when life has the opportunity to teach my child a lesson, and life doesn't listen.

D said she was very surprised to hear her name called, and I think her excitement, which was tempered from last year's 3rd place (and mine and D's certainly were) is an indication that even if you get an award it doesn't feel as good as when you've actually worked hard to achieve that award.

Nipping narcissism with the 11-year-old (Try hard, my ass!)

I've read a couple articles about the recent study on narcissism and parenting.  Based on my discussion with N yesterday about her lack of preparation for written assessment, I think she will not be a narcissist.  Or if she is, I'm not the one responsible.

She was selected to take the written assessment test in January and over the past n weeks was given  fine arts tests that she was to answer and review in preparation for the district competition.  I sat with her when she answered them and then we looked up her responses online to check whether she was correct.  I didn't badger her to death to study because it is not my competition.  Last week's snow day moved the competition to yesterday.

On Monday night, I asked her if she wanted to study.  Nope.
On Tuesday night, I asked her if she wanted to study.  She studied for 5 minutes before bed, and that might be an overestimate on the time.

I drove her there and hung around for an hour and a half, trying to contain M and G's loudness to a dull roar in a poorly insulated cafeteria.

When she was finished, she brought the test with her (each student could take their test home).  When I looked it over, I saw that any number of questions were 1. identical to questions on the practice tests she took and 2. answered incorrectly.

I admit I was pissed, and not because I care whether she wins.  I was angry because ---

I had spent time picking her up from the initial written assessment test to see if she made the team.
I had spent time going over the practice tests and looking over answers with her.
I had driven her across the county to the competition and spent entirely too much time trying to entertain her brothers in a boring cafeteria.

I spent more time on her written assessment than she did.
And if I am going to spend time making something possible for my kids, I sure as heck expect them to at least try.
Oh wait, according to her she did try.  She studied the night before.  That big expanse of 5 minutes prior to bed surely made a huge difference.

I asked her how she will feel if she doesn't place in the competition, and she said, "Disappointed."
I asked her what will be going through her mind if she doesn't win, and she said, "I should have studied."

I told her I wasn't mad at her or disappointed, but frustrated because if you are going to do something competitively, it makes sense to actually try to do your best, and she hadn't done her best.

I hope to heaven she doesn't place.  A good swift kick in the pants by "life" would be useful.  

Leaving it up to her

N is very much the child who wants to try new stuff.

She asked to try out for Future Problem Solving, and when she didn't make the team it was really no big deal.  I expected to have to console and coddle a bit, but there was no need.  She doesn't seem to wear her heart on her sleeve as much as her mother did at a similar age.

She received an invitation to try out for Written Assessment, and we were both surprised when she did make that team since most of the time 4th graders' scores do not qualify them.

Every Wednesday at the end of the day, she would go pick up her written assessment practice tests.  At first, she was all gung-ho and filled them out with enthusiasm.  I helped her answer the ones with which she wasn't familiar and even prepared some review sheets with definitions and such.

I found myself sometimes asking, "Have you gone over your written assessment sheets?" but I didn't want to drive myself and her nuts with badgering.  

Today is the competition, and yesterday she was all, "I'm so nervous.  I wonder how I will do?"

I just kept my mouth closed.

I wanted to lecture her on, "You've got to prepare and study if you want to do well," and all the other mom-things I could think of, but I didn't.

There are enough things I have to harangue her about, and I didn't want academic competition to be one of those things.  It is just not important to me and seemingly her as well.  Ultimately, she has to learn that to do well an individual has to plan and prepare.  It is her call, her choice, and she is the one who has to live with the consequences.

Although, given her glibness about making and not-making teams, I doubt she will be that upset if she doesn't do well.

It is me blogging about it, as I do other things that stay.on.my.mind.

My science girl project

Tomorrow marks my last day as secretary of my neighborhood homeowners' association, a role in which I have served for 3 years.

As is my way, once I stop doing one thing I usually take on something else.

My "something else" this time is a stint as a GEMS (Girls in Engineering, Math and Science) Club coordinator at N's school.

It is a brief stint---once a month from January-April--but I have been planning and testing experiments for me and 26 third and fourth grade girls to do.

This is what I do instead of watching tv.

It all started last fall, when a friend of mine and I were Facebook chatting about girls in math and science.  She asked if N's school had a GEMS or STEM club.  Soon after, I emailed the Learning Lab teacher, Ms. K, about whether the school had an after-school science club.  I may or may not have also suggested that I would be willing to coordinate one.

Months and many meetings later, we're set to roll this coming Wednesday for our first session.

It has been fun researching experiments for the girls to do without the headache and hassle of "testing" hanging over their heads. So much of current education sucks all the joy and excitement out of the sheer wonder of just LEARNING.  (Although I have to say that the Learning Lab at the kids' school is amazing, as is Ms. K.  G has a serious crush on her.)

Even though I'm not certified in science education, I have always loved science.  A big part of this  GEMS idea is just to help my daughter develop, if not a love of science, then a feeling of interest and accomplishment in getting her hands dirty with science.  A broadening of her horizon.  The benefit of coordinating is that N gets to attend no matter what.  I'd be lying if I said pure self-interest for my child wasn't my primary motivating factor in trying to get this ball rolling.  That darn Adam Smith and his invisible hand.

The other girls who were invited to attend were selected by their teachers.  I wish I could offer it to every student, but I was told that interest in this club, if open to everyone, would more or less knock me over where I stood and be a bigger beast than I'd want to or be able to handle.  

And as much as I want this to be fun for the girls, I also want it to FEEL fun for me so being overwhelmed by students sounds far more stressful than I'd like.

I expect the experiments on tap for this week to fail, which is why my handout to the girls says "Failure is a Part of Science" and I include a quote about Thomas Edison in which he says, "“I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work.”

Who needs mass media entertainment when you've got wires, crocodile clips, batteries, voltage meters, lemons and inspiration from Mr. Edison?

What works for me [and why cheerleading doesn't]

Regardless what books or society or doctors or parent friends say, if I've learned anything as a mom (and continue to have to remind myself of as a mom) it is that I have to do what feels right to me.  

Cheerleading did not feel right to me.  

As much as I hate the idea of not letting N do something she said she wants to do, I know what she and I can handle.

And it is not 2 practices a week plus games every Friday plus competitions on various Saturdays plus 3 fundraisers plus up to $225 for uniforms/shoes/etc.

Too much.

It makes me feel immensely better about letting my kids vegetate on the weekends, watch tv when they want, go outside when they want, not have to keep to any kind of schedule.

They will do enough of that when they are adults.  

Sometimes I feel like I am so old-fashioned.  Because I stay home.  Because I don't have a smart phone and am therefore not connectable at all times.  Because I want 2-3 evenings each week to be completely free for us to take a family walk or shoot basketball or throw a frisbee.  

But these are things that feel right to me so I will continue to remind myself of this when it seems like I'm the oddball. 

And now she wants to be a......

cheerleader.

I am so totally underwhelmed by this idea.

I don't have anything against cheerleading per se.  My lack of excitement at this newest interest is due to its complete insistence on us turning over our entire lives to it, as is the case in all things remotely sports-related.

(It has become clear to me that there is virtually nothing I am willing to turn my life over to in any consistent way, be it sports, church, exercise.  I am good with that whole "moderation in all things" credo.)

Two days of practice until 6 pm.  And games.  I have agreed to go to the meeting at school this evening to gather more information, but I have already told her it is highly unlikely she will be able to do it.

Because she has piano lessons on Monday evenings.
Because she does Girl Scouts every other Wednesday.
Because if she does M (piano) and W (Girl Scouts) and then T/Th cheerleading practice, she will have ZERO time to just chill and play Barbies or whatever.
Because 4 days of busyness during the week doesn't include the games.
Because the uniform costs $125 (plus another $60 for a warm-up).
Because with her height and solidness she will be at the bottom of the pyramid and not the top (I cleared that up when she was talking about this in the car).
Because when she is tired she is a complete lunatic bear of a kid.
Because she isn't a particularly coordinated / rhythmic child.
Because even if she wants to turn her life over to cheerleading and being active I, as the designated concierge and chauffeur of her life, do not.

My day-planner from the past few weeks

This week marks the END of nearly constant busyness, and I am thankful.

While I am not looking forward to being with all three of my children every.single.minute.of.the.day come early June, I am very glad to have a break from track practice & meets, Girl Scouts, ensemble practice and performances, and a seemingly endless string of doctor visits (although with M's pending myringotomy/adenoidectomy/tonsillectomy, we'll be doing our fair share of ENT and audiologist appointments).

I want to record what my day-planner has looked like the past few weeks so that I can remember just how busy I was with 3 children ages 9, 5 and 3.  This doesn't include exercising (which I like to fit in so that I have the energy to maintain this breakneck speed), errands and pathetic attempts to keep my house a little bit clean.

Week of April 22
M--Track practice, 3:50-4:45; Piano lesson 6:30-7:30
T--Ensemble practice, 8:00; Track meet 5:00
W--Gynecologist appt, 9:20; Girl Scout meeting, 6:00
Th--Ensemble practice, 8:00; N's orthodontist appt 10:30
F--N's field trip, 9:30-11:45
Sa--Swim lessons, 10:00-11:00; N track meet, 10:00; G to friend b-day party, 3:30

Week of April 29
M--Dentist appt all 3 kids, 9:00; Track practice, 3:50-4:45; Piano lesson 6:30-7:30
T-- Ensemble practice, 8:00; Carrie haircut, 6:30
W--Job interview, 10:00
Th--Ensemble practice, 8:00, G playdate 12:15
F--No school

Week of May 6
M--ENT appt 11:00; Track practice, 3:50-4:45; Piano lesson 6:30-7:30
T--Ensemble 3:45-5:00; Taylor Swift concert 7:00
W--Ensemble 3:45-5:00; Girl Scout meeting, 6:00
Th--N Ensemble performance, 6:00
Fri-- Cluster track meet 6:30 (Cancelled due to rain)
Sa--Swim lessons, 10:00-11:00

Week of May13
M--Track practice, 3:50-4:45; Piano lesson 6:30-7:30
T-- Parenting seminar, 6:00
W--Rescheduled cluster track meet, 6:15; Neighborhood board meeting, 6:30
Th--Ensemble celebration, 8:00; Preschool Graduation 7:00
Fri- Blessedly free of evening activity
Sa--Swim lessons, 10:00-11:00; Girl Scout training, 1:30-6:30

Nap and nursing milestones, track and other updates

G is done with naps, hence the reason for my failure to blog with any regularity.  Our afternoons are mostly spent in front of the tv, with me doing piddly house jobs that allow me to check in with him.  His newest love is "Ben 10" on Netflix, which he pretend plays all the time.  

I have to laugh at how much of an anti-tv nazi I was when N was a small child (until I got pregnant with G and borrowed every Disney Princess movie ever made so I could feel pukey on the couch in piece and let N zone out to Aurora, Cindy, and Belle).  At this moment, M is happily eating cereal and watching "Yo Gabba Gabba" on the queue, and I am thrilled to have a moment's peace.  (This morning has been spent cleaning pee-soaked sheets, using a snake/Drano to unsuccessfully degunkify the shower drain, and dealing with my ever-demanding, high-maintenance 5-year-old.)

Lack of blogging can also be explained by my recent work on some freelance pieces.  Any time I had for writing was of the "I'm being paid for this" variety.

In other child milestone news, M is weaned.  I have been more than ready for awhile, but he kept hanging on.  I never in my wildest dreams thought I'd nurse a child to age 3-and-a-half.  Maybe I will actually get that mammogram my gynecologist has been asking me to have since I was 35?  You know you are DONE breastfeeding when you are eager for a mammary squishing.

I am officially one of "those" moms who has over-scheduled her child.  For the past few years, N has asked to run Cross Country, but with two practices a week plus a meet, I simply couldn't make the commitment.  N and I have piano lessons every Monday evening and Girl Scouts every other Wednesday.  

A few weeks ago, though, she brought home information about a short Track season with only one practice a week and 4 or 5 meets in all.  This was more reasonable for our schedule, so I gave permission with the understanding that if she whines or acts like a turd we won't do it again. She has her first meet this Saturday, so that should be interesting.  I'm proud of her for giving it a go, and I'm actually relieved that she is having an opportunity to do a sport (just so I can give up the guilt that I'm the one holding her back). 

The weather has turned warmer, allowing me and the boys to get outside more often.  They have rediscovered the sandbox, and the sunshine has done wonders for my mood and energy level.  I had been wondering if I was having thyroid issues, but I think it was prolonged winter having its way with me.  

Geez, this is a dull post.

I guess I shall move onto more exciting activities, like disposing of N's stash of Valentine candy that has been sitting on her desk for the past 2 months.  

Mardi Gras Girl Scout style

N's Girl Scout troop attended a Mardi Gras dance this past weekend.  They had a blast!

All N wanted to do was bust her moves.  She wasn't interested in eating or doing the crafts.  She was all about "Shaking It Up."

(She was not dancing with headless children

 although my desire to ensure other's privacy makes it appear that way.)

Seeing N dance and dance AND dance made me think of my days in elementary school and made me feel a kinship with my own mother who spent years watching me dance in school talent shows and at the mall and in recitals.

With N turning 8 this weekend, I have become increasingly aware that I remember virtually nothing of her as an infant/toddler.  It is hard for me to connect the girl I see with the baby in pictures.  I am just so used to her as she is today.  I sometimes mourn a bit for that time, for the days when I could hold all of her in my lap and snuggle, as I do with M now.

But there is much to enjoy now, and I try to focus on the delightfulness of that fact.  I try to focus on seeing her have fun as a young elementary-age girl, dancing until she is red in the face and sweaty.