My daughter's first soccer practice is today. I'm really excited.
I don't want to impose my ideas too much on her - pressure is not what I want to do in this situation...but I can't help wanting her to be the next Mia Hamm!
Maybe it's just that I couldn't even venture thinking about that for my son since he has the blood condition from prevents him from really being competitive on the field...but she, with all of her allergy/asthma ailments, she CAN do soccer...and she has all the elements to be a good player.
She's tough. She's a gazelle of a runner. She's confident. She has an older brother and has watched him play soccer for years and she's just so cute running around in her ponytail!
I'm hoping that she gets the soccer bug and enjoys it. I wish I'd had more sports as a kid - one of those things I really "want to get right" with mine.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
IPhone Taxes
For xmas I got the season's hottest gift...the iphone. This was a much bigger deal than I realized because before the iphone I had a dinosaur cell phone. Needless to say, I'm not that hip...but I'm really enjoying the device, and my kids covet it.
I've tried to refrain from letting them use it too much - fearing that they'll break it or inadvertantly delete email or just somehow ruin the thing. Over the last few months, I've been loosening up a little. I let my daughter play pac man at TJs because she was under the weather and doing me a favor being so good at the store. I let my son write in the "Notes" section at gymnastics practice because he was being a good doobie. I like the notes section - he and I will write a couple sentences then pass it off - we're having a little iphone chat...he likes doing it and gets some writing done (writing isn't his forte) and it entertains him, I enjoy hearing his thoughts (because oftentimes he doesn't share them) and I have a little record of what was on his mind on a particular day.
He's become increasingly obsessed with the iphone. He now wants an itouch.
So yesterday he asks me the following..."what kind of taxes do you pay on your iphone?"
Taxes?
Oh, he wanted to know what the monthly costs were for having an iphone!
I've tried to refrain from letting them use it too much - fearing that they'll break it or inadvertantly delete email or just somehow ruin the thing. Over the last few months, I've been loosening up a little. I let my daughter play pac man at TJs because she was under the weather and doing me a favor being so good at the store. I let my son write in the "Notes" section at gymnastics practice because he was being a good doobie. I like the notes section - he and I will write a couple sentences then pass it off - we're having a little iphone chat...he likes doing it and gets some writing done (writing isn't his forte) and it entertains him, I enjoy hearing his thoughts (because oftentimes he doesn't share them) and I have a little record of what was on his mind on a particular day.
He's become increasingly obsessed with the iphone. He now wants an itouch.
So yesterday he asks me the following..."what kind of taxes do you pay on your iphone?"
Taxes?
Oh, he wanted to know what the monthly costs were for having an iphone!
Friday, March 27, 2009
a glimpse into teenagerdom
The last 6 months or so, my son and I have struggled...or shall I say, my son has struggled and I haven't known exactly what to do and how to be helpful or what I should do as a parent.
We have our good moments - really great moments reminiscient of what things were like before his little world got a little more complicated. And then other times, things are bad. Really bad. Like he hates me more than anything else in the world bad. Or, bad as in I tried to be funny to diffuse some tension and that was such the wrong thing to do (of course, what the fuck were you thinking).
I'm at a loss a lot these days. I want to connect and be there but it's not really happening the way I think it should, or thought it should.
There are times when I just want to quit this job.....the whole thing - the whole mom, wife, good family person thing. I want to leave, get in a car and reinvent myself, change my identity, be part of the witness protection program.
do something completely different and forget the life I have now. start fresh, do it all over again and do it MY way or at least the way that I want to do it now, after the fact, after I gave it my best shot.
Because right now, when I tuck my baby boy to bed and he is tense and doesn't want to look at me and is stiff as I hug him goodnight and wipes his forehead after I've kissed him...it's not what he wants. it's not what he needs. and I feel worthless... and I wonder why I signed up to do this whole parenthood thing in the first place.
We have our good moments - really great moments reminiscient of what things were like before his little world got a little more complicated. And then other times, things are bad. Really bad. Like he hates me more than anything else in the world bad. Or, bad as in I tried to be funny to diffuse some tension and that was such the wrong thing to do (of course, what the fuck were you thinking).
I'm at a loss a lot these days. I want to connect and be there but it's not really happening the way I think it should, or thought it should.
There are times when I just want to quit this job.....the whole thing - the whole mom, wife, good family person thing. I want to leave, get in a car and reinvent myself, change my identity, be part of the witness protection program.
do something completely different and forget the life I have now. start fresh, do it all over again and do it MY way or at least the way that I want to do it now, after the fact, after I gave it my best shot.
Because right now, when I tuck my baby boy to bed and he is tense and doesn't want to look at me and is stiff as I hug him goodnight and wipes his forehead after I've kissed him...it's not what he wants. it's not what he needs. and I feel worthless... and I wonder why I signed up to do this whole parenthood thing in the first place.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Type D? M? Z? or OMG, no...A?
So, I was having lunch last week with my boss and colleauge who both have kids and are both gay - aka no wives, mothers, etc. in the household.
We get along great, know each other quite well and are brutally honest with each other. I love hanging out with them. It's so easy and they're always complimenting me on all things girly. It's awesome.
Our conversations always circle around to kids at some point or another. I have the oldest ones in the bunch. So, I'm the defacto seasoned veteran parent, and only mom.
My boss, who has a 3 year old, starts talking about how he and his daughter have discovered playdough and how wonderful it is. And then I innocently respond and ask, "Have you ever made playdough before?"
WRONG QUESTION.
Man, did I get lambasted with the whole - "who has time to make playdough? oh, of course you do ms. get up to run in the morning, as you knit, pta president!" They went on and on.
"Seriously, how hard is it to make playdough?" I thought to myself and then it brought me back to those early days as a mom when I was absolutely DONE with parenting after a few weeks because it was just so damn hard.
One of the many things I found so hard about it was the lack of control of my schedule, my time, of what I wanted to do.
And I realized that most of my life, I had thought I was a really laid back, flexible, calm, relaxed, spontaneous person when in reality I wasn't. It was all relative. I had somehow surrounded myself with people much more type A than me, so by comparison, I believed I was more like a type M...just your average person.
Not so. I realized that I was in fact probably a type D...and had managed to surround myself around a ton of type As, Bs, and Cs....but in the grander scheme of things, I was truly a type A type. No way around it.
So, making playdough was yet another revelation into who I truly am. Completely, utterly type A no matter how I try to disguise it.
We get along great, know each other quite well and are brutally honest with each other. I love hanging out with them. It's so easy and they're always complimenting me on all things girly. It's awesome.
Our conversations always circle around to kids at some point or another. I have the oldest ones in the bunch. So, I'm the defacto seasoned veteran parent, and only mom.
My boss, who has a 3 year old, starts talking about how he and his daughter have discovered playdough and how wonderful it is. And then I innocently respond and ask, "Have you ever made playdough before?"
WRONG QUESTION.
Man, did I get lambasted with the whole - "who has time to make playdough? oh, of course you do ms. get up to run in the morning, as you knit, pta president!" They went on and on.
"Seriously, how hard is it to make playdough?" I thought to myself and then it brought me back to those early days as a mom when I was absolutely DONE with parenting after a few weeks because it was just so damn hard.
One of the many things I found so hard about it was the lack of control of my schedule, my time, of what I wanted to do.
And I realized that most of my life, I had thought I was a really laid back, flexible, calm, relaxed, spontaneous person when in reality I wasn't. It was all relative. I had somehow surrounded myself with people much more type A than me, so by comparison, I believed I was more like a type M...just your average person.
Not so. I realized that I was in fact probably a type D...and had managed to surround myself around a ton of type As, Bs, and Cs....but in the grander scheme of things, I was truly a type A type. No way around it.
So, making playdough was yet another revelation into who I truly am. Completely, utterly type A no matter how I try to disguise it.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Resurrecting Calvin
A few weeks ago, I arrived to pick up my son from an afterschool playdate and found him absorbed in a star wars comic book. It wasn't a flimsy, magazine-like comic book, but rather a paperback sized, fairly thick comic book highlighting stories of the star wars series.
He was so engrossed that I asked the mom where she'd found the books...the library.
I LOVE THE LIBRARY.
I don't know what it is, but my kids - who aren't always perfect little angels - somehow transform into erudite, good-natured kids as soon as they enter the library walls. I am amazed by how enthralled they are by all the books and I feel as if somehow, I've contributed to this and it always makes me want to give myself a nice pat on the back.
Anyways, I decided to find a few more comic books at the library - a nice departure from the novels he's been reading for a while - and couldn't find them. So I went to the resource desk and asked the librarian...
"Um, I'm looking for these star wars comic books that look like paperback books?
"You mean "Graphic Novels?"
"Oh. Yeah. Graphic Novels. Sure."
I love it when a new distinction is thrust upon you that way - making you feel unpolished and yet enlightened all at the same time. Like instead of red wine you now understand there's pinot noirs and cabs. Like instead of beer there's ales and pilsners and stouts. Like instead of lettuce there's arugala, romaine and endive.
So she showed me to the graphic novels section. WOW. Who knew? It's a whole genre that I didn't even know about...and the interesting thing is that there are tons of them and some of these books are THICK and ELABORATE and most are intended for a teenage/young adult audience! CRAZY!
The nice thing was that there were graphic novels that were more age appropriate for my 6 and 8 year old and it's been fun to explore these. It's a great departure from your run-of-the-mill picture books or kids fiction. We've also learned about interesting characters like Houdini and I've caught a glimpse of how my munchkins see the world and what they pay attention to in the elaborate pictures found in these novels. A picture can reveal a lot if you pay attention.
And then, as you think you've entered into new territory you realize your life has come full circle, or your adult life that is.
After a few visits to the graphic novels shelf, my son discovered Calvin and Hobbs. And loves it. Just like his dad - who when I first met him, was a C&H fiend. In fact it was one of the things I found so endearing about him. Endearing because among this academically intense graduate school setting with all kinds of higher math that I couldn't even begin to understand, there were Calvin and Hobbs books everywhere. This juxtaposition between calculus equations and calvin and hobbs humor was one of the things that made me fall in love with him.
So, now for the past few weeks, Calvin and Hobbs is in our lives almost every night as we read silly strips and get a good laugh, and I see my husband in my little boy and I just shake my head and think how life repeats itself, in many ways.
He was so engrossed that I asked the mom where she'd found the books...the library.
I LOVE THE LIBRARY.
I don't know what it is, but my kids - who aren't always perfect little angels - somehow transform into erudite, good-natured kids as soon as they enter the library walls. I am amazed by how enthralled they are by all the books and I feel as if somehow, I've contributed to this and it always makes me want to give myself a nice pat on the back.
Anyways, I decided to find a few more comic books at the library - a nice departure from the novels he's been reading for a while - and couldn't find them. So I went to the resource desk and asked the librarian...
"Um, I'm looking for these star wars comic books that look like paperback books?
"You mean "Graphic Novels?"
"Oh. Yeah. Graphic Novels. Sure."
I love it when a new distinction is thrust upon you that way - making you feel unpolished and yet enlightened all at the same time. Like instead of red wine you now understand there's pinot noirs and cabs. Like instead of beer there's ales and pilsners and stouts. Like instead of lettuce there's arugala, romaine and endive.
So she showed me to the graphic novels section. WOW. Who knew? It's a whole genre that I didn't even know about...and the interesting thing is that there are tons of them and some of these books are THICK and ELABORATE and most are intended for a teenage/young adult audience! CRAZY!
The nice thing was that there were graphic novels that were more age appropriate for my 6 and 8 year old and it's been fun to explore these. It's a great departure from your run-of-the-mill picture books or kids fiction. We've also learned about interesting characters like Houdini and I've caught a glimpse of how my munchkins see the world and what they pay attention to in the elaborate pictures found in these novels. A picture can reveal a lot if you pay attention.
And then, as you think you've entered into new territory you realize your life has come full circle, or your adult life that is.
After a few visits to the graphic novels shelf, my son discovered Calvin and Hobbs. And loves it. Just like his dad - who when I first met him, was a C&H fiend. In fact it was one of the things I found so endearing about him. Endearing because among this academically intense graduate school setting with all kinds of higher math that I couldn't even begin to understand, there were Calvin and Hobbs books everywhere. This juxtaposition between calculus equations and calvin and hobbs humor was one of the things that made me fall in love with him.
So, now for the past few weeks, Calvin and Hobbs is in our lives almost every night as we read silly strips and get a good laugh, and I see my husband in my little boy and I just shake my head and think how life repeats itself, in many ways.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Bad Biker Mom
I feel terrible. Yesterday, I had a "trial by fire" parenting moment with my daughter and it went all wrong...terribly wrong.
For the last year or so, C has been off of training wheels...enjoying the new-found freedom of a faster ride, but only allowing herself to stay on flat roads with predictable, big turns and lots of safe spaces to practice her stopping.
About a month ago, the first real warm weather weekend - the spring teaser - arrived. It coincided with my "romantic getaway" with my hubby - so after a lot of couple togetherness, we showed up on the parental doorstep again and decided to make the most of the rest of the weekend together - making up for lost family time...so to speak.
I was the perfect mother - I took C out to practice her biking skills and ran alongside her as she tested her abilities down hills, over bumpy bridges, between poles, around toddlers and strollers and dogs and saw her expression of fear turn into glee as she realized she could coast down a hill and enjoy the wind in her face. I was a good mom, no. I was an AWESOME mom....I should be proud of my biking parental prowess and all should take notice.
Since then, every chance we've had, I've taken the opportunity to take her back out and keep on building up her confidence. So much so that I had to just sit and watch her - BORED - since I couldn't keep up with her physically and felt good about how she was maneurvering around everything.
It was time to take the show on the road.
Then, yesterday - another glorious spring day arrived and I was compelled to take it to the next level. It was time to dust off my own bike and take C for a bonafide trail ride. We packed up the car with bottled waters and knee pads and bicycle helmuts. We were ready for a full-on trail ride.
And we did good. Awesome in fact. I was riding high - my little girl was a full-fledged bike rider because of me! We were naviagating all sorts of obstacles and having the time of our lives! We would have countless adventures riding through DC and doing it together and enjoying the beautiful scenery, weather and each other!! I was the BEST MOM EVER!!!
Then, I got bold. I became a kid. I forgot that I was a mom and that my child's abilities weren't my own. I was irresponsible. I was an IDIOT.
She wanted to go on the "bumpy" part of the trail again and the easiest way was to backtrack the way we'd come. Despite having to walk up a section of the trail, it didn't occur to me that going down that section would be risky. I just got over-confident. thoughtless and stupid.
We started going down the hill and I immediately knew it was a bad idea.
What... was... I... thinking??!?!??!!!
It was bad. We were headed towards the creek...thank god there was a railing to block us from sliding into the water...but how could I get her to navigate the turn? Should I speed up in front? Crash into her? Guide her through the turn and hope for the best?
And then, there he was.
A lance armstrong wannabe biker turning the corner from the opposite direction. In his neon yellow glory - headed right towards my little girl. He saw her and maneuvered around her. She - like the good little amateur biker that she is - maneuvered around him! We almost had it!
Then she hit the ground. FACE PLANT! I lost it as in, L-O-S-T, lost it. All I could think to do was STOP and I purposely ran into the railing to make it happen fast. I ran over to her. She was bawling...I was FREAKED. Lance-guy stopped; was helfpul and then left us be. She wanted her daddy. Great.
There was no way to get to him without riding the bikes back. So, that was a good thing. She had to overcome her fear and ride...thankfully on a flat surface. All the way to daddy who wouldn't have let this happen. Daddy her superhero.
In the end, she was fine. Lots of mini scrapes and bruises, that in their entirety were worthy of a good cry, but nothing serious.
Me? I have a huge ass bruise on my knee. And honestly, today with the limping and the icing and the hideous rainbow colored reminder of my parenting judgement at it's worst...it's not my knee that's really the part of me that's bruised.
For the last year or so, C has been off of training wheels...enjoying the new-found freedom of a faster ride, but only allowing herself to stay on flat roads with predictable, big turns and lots of safe spaces to practice her stopping.
About a month ago, the first real warm weather weekend - the spring teaser - arrived. It coincided with my "romantic getaway" with my hubby - so after a lot of couple togetherness, we showed up on the parental doorstep again and decided to make the most of the rest of the weekend together - making up for lost family time...so to speak.
I was the perfect mother - I took C out to practice her biking skills and ran alongside her as she tested her abilities down hills, over bumpy bridges, between poles, around toddlers and strollers and dogs and saw her expression of fear turn into glee as she realized she could coast down a hill and enjoy the wind in her face. I was a good mom, no. I was an AWESOME mom....I should be proud of my biking parental prowess and all should take notice.
Since then, every chance we've had, I've taken the opportunity to take her back out and keep on building up her confidence. So much so that I had to just sit and watch her - BORED - since I couldn't keep up with her physically and felt good about how she was maneurvering around everything.
It was time to take the show on the road.
Then, yesterday - another glorious spring day arrived and I was compelled to take it to the next level. It was time to dust off my own bike and take C for a bonafide trail ride. We packed up the car with bottled waters and knee pads and bicycle helmuts. We were ready for a full-on trail ride.
And we did good. Awesome in fact. I was riding high - my little girl was a full-fledged bike rider because of me! We were naviagating all sorts of obstacles and having the time of our lives! We would have countless adventures riding through DC and doing it together and enjoying the beautiful scenery, weather and each other!! I was the BEST MOM EVER!!!
Then, I got bold. I became a kid. I forgot that I was a mom and that my child's abilities weren't my own. I was irresponsible. I was an IDIOT.
She wanted to go on the "bumpy" part of the trail again and the easiest way was to backtrack the way we'd come. Despite having to walk up a section of the trail, it didn't occur to me that going down that section would be risky. I just got over-confident. thoughtless and stupid.
We started going down the hill and I immediately knew it was a bad idea.
What... was... I... thinking??!?!??!!!
It was bad. We were headed towards the creek...thank god there was a railing to block us from sliding into the water...but how could I get her to navigate the turn? Should I speed up in front? Crash into her? Guide her through the turn and hope for the best?
And then, there he was.
A lance armstrong wannabe biker turning the corner from the opposite direction. In his neon yellow glory - headed right towards my little girl. He saw her and maneuvered around her. She - like the good little amateur biker that she is - maneuvered around him! We almost had it!
Then she hit the ground. FACE PLANT! I lost it as in, L-O-S-T, lost it. All I could think to do was STOP and I purposely ran into the railing to make it happen fast. I ran over to her. She was bawling...I was FREAKED. Lance-guy stopped; was helfpul and then left us be. She wanted her daddy. Great.
There was no way to get to him without riding the bikes back. So, that was a good thing. She had to overcome her fear and ride...thankfully on a flat surface. All the way to daddy who wouldn't have let this happen. Daddy her superhero.
In the end, she was fine. Lots of mini scrapes and bruises, that in their entirety were worthy of a good cry, but nothing serious.
Me? I have a huge ass bruise on my knee. And honestly, today with the limping and the icing and the hideous rainbow colored reminder of my parenting judgement at it's worst...it's not my knee that's really the part of me that's bruised.
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