The days are long but the years are short

And so it started off like every other year, except last of course. The kids woke up a little later, even Maria did not set her alarm until 7 AM. In past years, she has gotten up as early as 4:30 in the morning to get her self prepped and ready. She’s over that this year being an upper class junior…. Mario surprised me and was ready before Maria. He acts like he doesn’t care but we know he does. At least for the first day of school. By next week, he will be sleeping in until 7:40, throwing on a pair of shorts and t-shirt, and be out of the house by 7:55 to arrive at school right at 8 am. 

Maria has been looking forward to the first day of school since she got out of her last day of school as a sophomore. She absolutely loves to be in the school building, with her friends, learning, talking to teachers. I think she also likes the set routine and regimen. For some people, going to the store to buy new clothes is what gets them excited. For Maria, it is going to the store to get a whole new set of school supplies for the beginning of the year! Mario, to the contrary, has been dreading the start of school since he got out of his seventh grade year. He readily admits that seventh grade was a piece of cake due to most of it being spent online in his PJs (and playing video games on the side while choir was being held). He waited until the last minute to purchase his one supply needed for school – calculator – to which he saw the price and said “we could buy me a new keyboard for this amount – do I really need a calculator?”

Maria is taking five AP classes this year because colleges look for rigorous classes in your junior year. She has watched hundreds of videos about this and as soon as Jon and I try to talk with her about scaling it down, she zips the conversation up. These decisions are hard for a parent. On the one hand you want your daughter to challenge herself and take rigorous courses. On the other hand, you don’t want your daughter to be anxious and overwhelmed with too much on her plate. Jon and I decided to allow her to take the courses after much advocacy on her behalf at the dinner table. She does have three weeks to be able to drop one but I am positive that she will not start to feel the stress until after that period of time. In the end, Jon and I felt that she’s a junior in HS and should have the right to make her own decisions after weighing our input. I may live to regret the decision to not put the kabash on all of those AP classes two months from now but I am hoping for the best. I’ve got to believe letting her make the ultimate decision will provide valuable lessons one way or the other:)

Mario readily admits that this year is going to be difficult for two reasons: he actually has to sit in school for seven hours a day, and he has much more rigorous classes than last year. His history teacher is known to be strict and require a lot of online reading. His algebra teacher gives a lot of homework as well. I am going to have to be glued to the school website to make sure he is keeping up with assignments. I am trying to have some fun with it all and re-learn US history and algebra. God knows I’ve forgotten nearly everything I learned from eighth grade so it will be fun to re-educate myself (or so I think at this point in time but two months in, I am sure I will feel differently)! 

Maria could not wait to be able to drive to school every day. I had some real heart palpitations because I am such a strong believer in getting up and moving your body in the morning. I think a walk to school opens up the mind and gets her ready for the day. That being said, I am a sucker, and let her drive. If she hadn’t been looking forward to driving her junior year ever since she was six years old, I may have came to a different decision. She refused to drive her brother, however, which was going to make me reconsider. Mario, though, didn’t seem too irritated by her decision. He wanted to bike so that he could easily get home for lunch every day. 

I posted their first day of school pictures on Facebook – I have only posted one or two pictures since Covid hit. As I stared at them on the top of the steps I couldn’t believe that he was going into eighth grade and she was only two years away from graduating high school. It is so cliché-ish, but it is so true – the days are long but the years are short. I ached to have them back to their toddler years. The only thing I could do was go back to my photo memories and look at pictures of them as little tykes. I found a picture of the two of them from the first day of school when Mario was in kindergarten and Maria in third grade. I put the pictures side-by-side and looked at them throughout the day. Little humans have turned into big humans. The nervousness of starting school has gone to the wayside and they are now used to the routine every August.  They have every ability to get to school on their own and don’t need me to walk with them and hold their hands. I know that’s a sign of good parenting – they are confident and self-reliant – but boy do I miss holding those little hands in mine.

Taking the risk

My girl lost the student council president election. I received a phone call at 7:40 AM as I was taking my morning run. The phone call came up from my husband. I answered assuming it was him. Instead, I heard a sobbing daughter and the following words:

“I lost, mom.”

I should have been ready. I knew she would find out today. I also had an inkling that she may not win. She was up against a girl in her class who made a good speech about being responsible and a strong leader. She also has an older brother who graduated last year and was well known by students in the school.
But I wasn’t ready because deep down inside, I just kept hoping that Ri would win and that we would not be having this conversation. I remember learning about this “wait and hope” mentality when I was learning to be a facilitator at Ohio State. It is a default thought process I go to often. Let’s not delve into what could be painful or difficult conversations now with the hope that the difficult conversation won’t have to happen. Well, inevitably, the situation arises.

So here I was abruptly stopping my gait and trying to resurrect words of consolation to Ri as cars zoomed past me. My heart ached for her because I knew how much she wanted to be president and how sad she was about losing. I did not want to discount that sadness by saying something like “it’s not a big deal – who cares about being president” or “people are stupid – they should have voted for you” – although those were all responses that were coming into my head most immediately. But I took a breath and went in a different direction. I affirmed what she was feeling and simply stated that it had to feel crappy to get this news. But after listening to her for a few minutes, I told her this:

“You should be proud and hold your head high that you went for it. You ran for president when many people would be too scared to do so knowing that they could very well lose the election. You took the risk. That is where you won.”

I really believe that, too. I know even as an adult I have avoided certain challenges because I was scared of making a fool of myself or scared of not coming out on top. It takes a lot to dive into the waters and put yourself out there. She should embrace the strength she had to even take on the challenge.

I will talk with her in due time about what she can learn from this matter. Was there something more that she could have done to prepare? Could she have thought about her speech more and went in a different direction? Are there things she could ask her friends about what they liked about her friend’s speech over hers? This can take some courage because you are going to hear constructive feedback, but it is absolutely necessary in order to grow. You will need the ability to hear such feedback as you get older. Again, something I continue to struggle with – knowing the feedback is constructive and not a slap in the face. It is the only way to excel.

But for this morning, I will simply give her hugs and reaffirm my pride in her simply going for it. Girlfriend needs to feel that power, that strength, in putting herself out there. She needs to understand that is a trait that will be so important for her in years to come.

Pain is your professor

Sometimes it just sucks being a mom.

Maria decided to go out for class president. She has been working on her speech and answering questions as to why she would want to be president for two weeks. A few evenings ago, she found out that the speeches were being made the next morning and that the four other classmates she was running against were bringing in donuts and candy. We made a last minute run to Big Lots to get Ziploc bags, tons of cookies, laffy taffy, and bubblegum.

Earlier in the evening, she printed out the names of all of the people in her class and made a tally of (1) who would vote for her; (2) who may vote for her but may vote for another classmate; and (3) who would not vote for her and would vote for another classmate. She chatted about her tally sheet with Jon the entire way to her PT appointment. He was impressed with her polling skills.

She also spoke to some of the girls in her class and determined that they would actually listen to the speeches and vote for the candidate who who would represent them the best. As for the boys, she determined that they would simply vote for whoever bribed them with the best treats. Hence, why she overloaded ziploc bags with cookies, laffy taffy, and gum.

We sat in the kitchen stuffing the bags while reviewing her speech and making tweaks to it. Her theme earlier in the week had been to ensure everyone felt safe at school. However, she changed her theme last minute because another girl had the same theme. I’m not sure if that girl had the theme long before Maria or Maria had it first but no matter what, I knew it was too late in the game to question her decision to change. Her new theme was that everyone should have a voice at school. She promised if she became president, she would make sure to listen to everyone and work on implementing classmates’ ideas to improve the school. She also talked about wanting their freshman year to be a lot of fun (because she has so much fun at school and wants to spread the joy). She only had under a minute to make her speech so she couldn’t get into too much detail. After numerous tweaks, she felt comfortable with it and rehearsed it several times to make sure it was under one minute. She ended her speech with a slogan she created while walking through Big Lots earlier in the evening: “Vote Maria, its a great idea!”

She snap chatted with her two girlfriends (heaven forbid they call each other) to confirm they would pass out bags with her during the morning before school.

I think she believed she would win. She seemed confident in the morning when she was making her breakfast. I told her she would do an amazing job and to just make sure she looked up from her paper and made eye contact with people. Jon and I both thought she had a good chance of winning as well.

I got a call from her an hour and a half later. I thought she was calling to tell me that she made it through her speech since the night before she had told Jon and I that she would not get the results until the day after her speech). When I clicked over from my other call to talk to her, all I heard were sobs.

My heart sank.

I thought she was going to tell me that she made a horrible speech but instead, she told me that she did not get the presidency. She could barely get out any other words to me. I tried to soothe her. I reiterated how proud her dad and I were for her running for the presidency and how this will make her stronger in the long run. I told her to be gracious to the winner. I reiterated again how proud we were of her throwing her hat in the ring. I did not want her to stop taking risks based on this loss.

I heard some girls’ voices in the background as I continued talking to her and realized she was standing in the bathroom stall. I asked if her friends were around her. She affirmed they were. I advised that she lean on them for support through the school day. She agreed. We both said “love you” and she hung up.

OK, my first instinct: slap all the kids who did not vote for her. Second instinct: tell her all the kids that did not vote for her are idiots. Third instinct: ask for a revote.

Fourth instinct: take a chill pill. Replay the Glennon Doyle podcast in your head.

Pain is your professor.

She will grow from this incident. It will make her more resilient and wise. There is conflict between the desire to protect your little one from pain and the desire to have your little one takes leaps and bounds while on this earth. But it is impossible to protect from pain so my role is to help her understand that pain is growth. Pain is not a bad thing. Pain is her professor.

Jon called me later in the day and told me that he had called Maria at lunchtime. Of course, I had tried to call her several times and she did not answer the phone. But when her dad calls…. She told him that she ended up in second place and that she would still be a representative on Council. He said that she sounded much better.

Of course she did. She is building that resilience.

Armpits

One person’s sweat stains are another person’s armpit hair. Huh?

This is going to be my new idiom if someone confides in me about being embarrassed in a situation. My 14-year-old self came back in full force on Monday night when I attended Maria’s last dance club session. It all started with the parents being called out to the cafeteria floor to dance with their kids. The first dance involved some type of shuffle moving eight pieces to the right and then eight paces to the left and then kicking your legs and then swirling your hips. I, of course, got all into it (but without being over-the-top – sometimes I hoot and holler as I’m dancing). We ended the dance with a couple of fortnight dance moves, which the dance instructor found hilarious watching the parents perform. Something came over me and I was able to crank out the orange justice like a master. When the music stopped, the dance instructor spoke into his microphone:

“Ladies and gentlemen, this mom here in the green sweatshirt has done the best orange justice moves I have ever seen!”

Yes, he was talking about me, and Maria wanted to die. She put her hands against her face and shook her head. After the shuffle, the instructor placed the parents and kids into three big circles. He started the music and called out for a female or male student or female or male parent to go in the center of the circle and dance. He called a few students first and they went in the middle and did random moves that everyone else mimicked. Then he called for a female parent. Somebody pointed at one of the moms who is very timid. She shook her head no over and over again. My one girlfriend who loves to dance as much as I do whispered to me that we should go out and dance with her. Without hesitation, we both ran out to the dance floor and pulled her into the middle. We proceeded to do the Arnold dance moves and the Saturday Night Live move. Then we held our hands high in the sky and did some type of crazy jump step move. The dance instructor called out for a father to go in the middle of the circle so me and my girlfriend skipped back to our places on the outer rim of the circle. Maria winced when I stood next to her.

“What?”

“Mom, you have sweat stains in your arm pits and everyone saw them.”

My heart dropped to my knees. There I was standing at Golf Manor pool with my friends as my mom walked in wearing her string cotton bikini and sporting her 6 inch long armpit hair for all to see.

I left Maria’s side and jetted to the bathroom. Yep, sure enough, there were my big pit stains as I raised my hands overhead. That is what happens after 15 minutes of dancing. Hell, I probably had them after the first minute. I took off my green sweatshirt and wrapped it around my middle. I had a black long sleeve shirt on underneath which did not show the stains. I always come prepared. I left the bathroom and went back to the outer rim of the circle to stand by Maria. She looked appalled. I immediately felt it and left the circle to stand with Jon. After that dance scenario, the instructor told everyone to get ready for one more fast dance sequence. As Maria walked over towards Jon and I, she mouthed “go home.” Her words were a knife stabbing me in the heart. I was both hurt and pissed. Jon was just pissed. I told him we should leave, but he kept a level head and said that we were going to stay (but he was not going to talk to her the whole way home). We stood there glaring at her as she moved with her classmates to the music. She knew she had crossed the boundaries.

The instructor turned on one last piece of music – a slow song to end the night. Maria came over to Jon and I and asked if we would dance. Jon shook his head no. A few of my girlfriends were calling me onto the dance floor and in order to avoid a big scene, I walked over with Maria. We all danced together and made small talk but when music ended, I walked away.

I had told Maria that she would have to walk home with me since she didn’t walk to the dance, and I held her to it even though I was mad at her. She apologized over and over again as we walked towards the house. I didn’t accept her apology or deny it. I just listened to her and walked in silence. I knew I was heavily affected by the exchange based on my own experience with my mom when I was her age. Of course, I was also not happy with her conduct towards us, but I could understand it having once been a 14-year-old girl in a similar situation. I knew she did not intend to be mean spirited; she was just reacting in the moment with all of her friends by her. She has always been one that is quick to embarrassment by her family. I can’t blame her at times with how unfiltered we can be.

We went into our separate rooms once we got home. I turned on some music and folded laundry. About 20 minutes later, Maria peeked her head inside my bedroom. I knew right then and there that I needed to give her a hug. We embraced and I started crying. And crying. Maria sat me on the bed next to her and we talked. We talked about my experience with my mom. We talked about how embarrassed she gets at times over me and Jon. We laughed. We hugged again. Then Mario walked in and said something ridiculous, and we added him to our embrace.

We all walked downstairs to grab a snack before bed. Jon walked in from his office and stood stoic in front of Maria. She apologized for telling him to go home. He gave her some crap for a minute or two but then he apologized, too, for embarrassing her (according to Ri, he had talked with, and jabbed at, the boys in her class for too long of a period of time and ate pizza that was for the kids).

Mario enjoyed the whole show laid out in front of him. However, he will be in the same boat in two years when he does dance club. I’m going to make sure to wear a pastel shirt so that the sweat stains are everywhere.

Ri does basketball

Maria decided to go out for basketball. Her eighth grade team needed a couple more players so she volunteered to join. She has become good friends with a girl on the team, Maggie, who I think acted as a big influence in her decision.

Maria loves to hang with a large group of girls. She seems to have most fun around a group of gals versus one on one. She likes a big party! I think this is a big reason why she loves to play sports. It is not necessarily the love of the game but rather, a love of friendships and camaraderie. She roots her teammates on fiercely. My personality is so different than hers; I am the one who wants to be on the field and be the star. People should root me on. I am not looking to cheer on other’s accomplishments without having some of my own. But not this girl of mine. She is happy to play a bit and then sit on the bench and cheer on her friends. And damn she does that well. She claps and cheers when a friend makes a play. She gives hugs and high fives when her friends come out of the game. She’s a mama hen. If someone gets hurt, she is the first one to get ice and help out. If someone is sad about how they played, she wraps them in a hug and makes them laugh.

I am amazed at her because it is so foreign to me. I think it’s a wonderful trait to have – this lack of concern about being a star and this joy in just being a part of the team. It’s this plain and simple – she’s a happy, happy kid. She enjoys life. She feels comfortable around all sorts of people. She enjoys conversations with others.

If you would have told me a year ago that Ri would be playing basketball and hanging out with the handful of gals that she is hanging with, I would have been skeptical. She’s really blossomed this year; it’s been a strong year for her. She is planting her roots and coming into her own, and man, it is exciting to watch.

My baby turns 13!

How is it that my little pumpkin girl is turning 13? It seems just a breath away that I was walking down the street calling Jon to announce our pregnancy. I was at the corner of Grandview and Third when Jon answered his cell phone.

He had traveled out of town that weekend to hang with his best friend, Paul. He answered the phone and I think we made chit chat for a minute. I can’t recall exactly how I brought up the pregnancy but I do recall the reaction, pure silence.

There were a lot of “oh my gosh” statements after the silence – a symbol of both joy and fear. We were having a baby! What the heck would happen once we had a baby? We are pregnant! How the heck were we going to handle a newborn?

I recall the first three months of morning sickness. I sat at my desk at Carlile Patchen, and stared into my computer screen hoping that the nausea would subside. I craved giant-sized hamburgers. I longed for chocolate and pickles. The thought of toothpaste made me want to throw up. It was so strange to have all of these sensations. My belly did not start to expand until about the fifth month of pregnancy. It was only then that I could show off my little baby bump. I would rub that bump as if the more rubbing I did, the healthier you would be.

It was around that time that Jon and I found out the sex of our little nugget. I swore I would have a boy. I have always been a tomboy, always been aggressive, loved my sports, and hated dresses. I was positive the universe would deliver a boy to me. I also figured Jon would want a boy even though he kept saying the cliche-ish line “I don’t care what sex it is as long as it is healthy. ” I laid on the table while the nurse pressed the wand hard against my belly. She moved it around and around and finally asked us if we were ready to learn the sex.

YES!

“You have a girl. ”

How was that possible?! How could my testosterone-laden body produce a girl? Whereas I was in shock, Jon was not. He took it all in stride – happy as a peach to have a baby girl. I, however, had major trepidation. That would mean we would have a mother/daughter relationship. Heaven help me. I had past experience with a mother/daughter relationship and it was a struggle. I remember calling my mom to announce that we were having a girl. Her reaction: “oh.” We both must have still harbored a bit of PTSD from my teenage years.

It took a while to get used to the thought of having a girl. I remember walking Cy, our dog at the time, and thinking “how will I ever love a human being as much as I love my loyal pup?” What was my problem?! Yet, although those thoughts went through my head, I still spent countless hours rubbing my expanding belly and listening to Free To Be on any car trip I took.

And then the day came. I went into the doctor’s office for my 9 AM appointment after I had taken a 3 mile run and lifted weights earlier that morning. My doctor performed her weekly exam. While she felt around, she poked her head up.

“You are going to have a baby today.”

What?! I was not having any contractions; I did not feel weird at all. Wasn’t there supposed to be some big revelation that I felt the baby was coming? I called Jon on my way home and told him that we were having a baby. His reaction was the same as mine had been. I arrived home and told Jon I was going to take Cy on a quick walk. He thought I was crazy, but he allowed me to do it (he knows me all too well). We got to the hospital around 11 AM; by that time, I was starting to feel some contractions. They felt like mild cramps, nothing to worrisome. The doctor checked me out around noon, and asked if I wanted to break my water to speed up the process. By that time, my mom had arrived from Cincinnati. We decided to go for it. It was not 20 minutes later that I was sitting on my green yoga ball pushing myself back-and-forth from the hospital bed. The contractions were getting worse. Breathe, Breathe. Breathe. That is all I could hear. It began to hurt worse and worse. But I was in it for the long run with you, baby girl. I wanted to feel every single ache. And boy, did I. There was a period of time where I was on my hands and knees rocking back-and-forth and feeling like I would not be able to survive another minute. Then the contractions would calm down a bit and I’d be able to breathe. But then they would start right back up and I would want to cry. Jon and my mom championed me through it right by my side. Finally, the nurses told me I could turn over and start pushing. What a relief. I pushed so hard, so quickly that I busted all of the blood vessels in my face. I wanted you out! I got to see the top of your head in the mirror and I could not believe it. There you were. All of that belly rubbing produced this little pipsqueak. I pushed one final push and before I knew it, I was holding your little 7 pound body in my arms. What a day.

The politically correct thing to say next is I fell completely and totally in love with you in that moment. Not so much. It took a while to absorb that intense bond between mother and child. At first, as I stared at you while she slept, I felt too many emotions to feel that deep connection. Would I do alright as a mom? Would you love me back? Were you getting all your nutrients? Craziness. And the questions running through my head! Why weren’t you taking my milk? Why didn’t you want to snuggle on my chest rather than move all around in every direction? Why did you have to get up every hour?!

As I became more confident in my role as a mother and you clocked in a greater amount of time on this earth, the connection clicked. My heart exploded with love and adoration for my baby girl, and I swallowed up all of you. And then, there was no turning back. I loved seeing you round, buddha face in the morning (even when you kept me up all night). I could not wait to get out of work and pick you up. I loved taking you on long walks, and having you touch the bark of different trees or smell the scent of different flowers. I couldn’t wait to walk up to Stauf’s with you on the weekend, and have everyone fawn over how cute you were.

I would read the book, Someday, to you nearly every night. The mother in the book watches her daughter grow up, and expresses has hopes and dreams for her daughter along the way. I would tear up every time I read it. One night when you were in preschool, I finished reading it and had those tears in my eyes. You looked up at me as you sat on my lap in that yellow rocking chair. You had tears down your little buddha face.

How biased I was to assume I would have a boy because I had so much testosterone and hated dresses? Sure enough, you were known as “the muscle” at preschool because you would defend some of the timid kids when kids were picking on them. Don’t mess with my girl; she will put you on her place. Heck, you are able to pick up your mom without a problem (there is no doubt your physical dominance is directly from your mom and dad).

You continue to want to be a daredevil. One of the presents you asked for your 13th birthday is a hot air balloon ride. You also asked to skydive (you know your mother will not agree to that) and bungee jump (no way). You will try anything. We love your intrepid spirit.

You continue to forge friendships with a wide array of people. Girls that love sports; girls that love boys; girls that love video games; and even boys. You get along with anybody and everybody that crosses your path.

You love to hug people. You sometimes even ask to hug a family friend you just met. You have no fear of jumping into any conversation. We love your willingness to embrace.

You are the goofiest, dork of a girl at times. You are not scared to make fun of yourself. You are not scared to act like a total fool around people. We absolutely love this about you. The more self-assured you are, the better it will be as you get older. Keep that goofiness about you and do not care what other people think.

You love school this year, as always. You love broadcasting in the mornings, hanging out with your friends, and going to your sporting events and practices. You loved your softball season with the bus rides to and from softball games. You are easy-going and spirited.

Quite simply, Ri, you are a great kid. Dad and I hit the jackpot with you as our first born. You have given us immense joy, and we know that you are going to knock this world out as you continue to get older.

Happy 13th, love!

Mom and Dad

Tinkerbell

Maria nailed Tinkerbell. It was as if Tink swept into Maria’s body one evening as Maria slept. Maria fully brought out Tink’s feistiness and orneriness. She was magnificent.

When she learned of the play in December of last year, she wanted to be Peter Pan or Wendy so badly. Those were the two roles that she knew would be able to fly during production. She asked me to call one of the directors from the December play and see if she would coach her. She agreed to meet with her on two different occasions before auditions at the end of January. She prepared Ri on how to present herself at the audition, how to memorize her lines, and how to give life to them. Thank god she did because it gave Ri the confidence needed to rock her audition. She auditioned knowing that she would not get the roles of Peter Pan or Wendy. They had announced that you had to be under 100 pounds for those roles. My muscular girl would not make the cut.

We got a call back the night she had a sleepover with a few friends. I was going to wait to tell her about getting the Tinkerbell role until after her friends left the next morning. At about midnight, she came running into our bedroom asking if I had heard what role she had gotten. Two of her girlfriends spending the night had received calls from their parents telling them what roles they had gotten. So, I was forced to tell her. She was so psyched.

I did not go to any of her rehearsals. She did not want me at any of them. This, from the girl who was too nervous to audition two years ago and stood by my side until her brother auditioned and brought up the nerve in her to go for it (at that time, they simply had to sing “Row Row Row Your Boat). She likes that the rehearsals and shows are her time to shine. She does not want to be overshadowed or have the disruption of chatty parents (me) or little brothers. She definitely held her own with all of those actors and actresses. The few times I did go backstage to pick her up, she was jabbering away with her fellow cast members who I had never met. She loves that. She is completely comfortable making new friends. And they all love her. Who doesn’t though? Everyone Jon and I meet talk about how down-to-earth and kind Maria is to everyone she meets.

She worked her butt off the week of the play going downtown at 5 PM every night and not returning home until 10:30 or later. She was excited on opening night. Patty, Meg, I and Alana came to watch her. Her voice was a little raspy but she hung in there. She got home that evening and her ankle was bruised and swollen from jumping off the bed in these little flat shoes she had to wear. She drank 3 cups of hot tea to help soothe her throat.

She had her last soccer game on Saturday afternoon. I thought she may want to skip it, which I was against, but instead, she was all in. She is dedicated to her team. We all went to Easton to watch her and when we got home, Sarah and Elena arrived. She played with Elena until her ride picked her up to go to the show. Sarah, Elena, Jon, and my dad went to see her Saturday show. I stayed behind, much to my dislike, with Mario, who felt sick. He had a fever and we figured it was strep throat due to a couple of his buddies who had it the week before. He was bummed out, too, because he had wanted to see Maria in the play. Jon reported that she did fabulous. She spent the night with her three girlfriends who were in the show with her. I went over to the girlfriend’s house to hang out with some moms until midnight. The girls were still up when I left. I was a little worried about how she would feel for Sunday show but she deserved to have a little fun after a week of craziness.

She arrived home on Sunday morning at 8 AM. She had gotten up at her friend’s house and asked the dad to drive her back home so she could be with Elena. Ri roller skated and Elena biked up to Stauf’s for breakfast. Then we hit the park. We did not arrive home until 11 AM. My mom had arrived at that time. We went to the basement for a dance party while my mom gave Sarah a massage. An hour later, Maria had to leave us again to head to her last show. My mom and I arrived 30 minutes early and the line was already out the door. They had sold out of tickets. Luckily, I was able to get my mom a seat. Elena and I played at the park across the street. We met up with my mom at intermission and we were lucky to have somebody leave and give us their seat. I was so happy to see the second half of the play. Maria got a rousing round of applause at the end of the show with some people even standing up. The cutest thing was when we were getting pictures with my mom and a little girl came up to her to ask if she could get her picture with Tinkerbell.

Absolutely adorable.

And Maria was as sweet as sugar giving her a hug and turning around for the camera to pose for a picture. She’s a natural.

Give that Job to the mom

If you want to get multiple tasks done quickly and effectively, call a mom. Without a doubt, she will be able to crank out the job better than anyone. 

My Christmas Eve night this week:

Arrived home at 7:30 PM from Cincy.

Unloaded the entire car full of boxes and gifts.

Dragged a mini refrigerator and a huge cozy seat up the stairs and into the kids’ rooms. 

Assisted the kids with unpacking the mini fridge and getting it set up in Mario’s room. 

Assisted the kids in unpacking Maria’s cozy chair and setting it up in her room. 

Cleaned Mario‘s room under his bunkbed and near his closet so that Maria would have a space to sleep. 

Took four loads of clothes and other random items up to the attic. 

Gathered winter clothes from the attic and brought them back downstairs. 

Cleaned the clothes off of Maria‘s floor. 

Hung up my clothes from Cincinnati. 

Cleaned the top of the kitchen counter. 

Fed Rocco. 

Took Rocco on a two-mile walk. 

Helped the kids make sugar cookies. 

Unpacked all of the gifts from Cincinnati and put them in their respective rooms. 

Wrote two letters to family members to put on their gifts. 

Wrapped the remainder of the gifts – seven in total. 

Drove to Walgreens to pick up some last minute items. 

Drove to CVS to pick up other last minute items not found at Walgreens. 

Drove to the liquor store to get a 40 ounce (just kidding – I wish). 

Went to bed at 11:15 pm. 

Seriously, all a mom should have to do is put “MOM” on the top of her resume and the job is hers. In the matter of minutes, we can wrap a gift, cook dinner, solve a math problem and clean up spilled milk. We can also answer any question posed such as “how do you start the dishwasher” or “how many teaspoons are in a tablespoon.” 

Put us in a board meeting and we would run the roost. Give us a managerial position, and we’d bring up the profits. Bottom line: shit would get done – and done well. 

Smart talk

Yet another article confirming that I have sent my daughter down a path of failure. I thought I was doing well by praising Ri as being smart when she correctly completed a math problem but apparently I’m setting her up to head straight to trucking school after 12th grade.
My research shows that praise for intelligence or ability backfires,” said Dweck, who co-authored a seminal research paper on the effects of praise on motivation and performance. “What we’ve shown is that when you praise someone, say, ‘You’re smart at this,’ the next time they struggle, they think they’re not. It’s really about praising the process they engage in, not how smart they are or how good they are at it, but taking on difficulty, trying many different strategies, sticking to it and achieving over time.
The researcher continues to say that not only is telling our daughters they are smart unproductive, but it actually may be harmful to their development.

Sweet Jesus.

Here I was thinking that I was a superstar because I was commenting on Ri’s brains and not her beauty but not quite….

I appreciate these studies in order for us to learn more about how to raise our girls to be confident and excel but damn if they don’t make me second guess everything before talking to Ri.

But, alas, change and growth and questioning are a part of life so I guess I need to keep reading these studies and shifting my praise accordingly (oh, how my grandma would be shaking her head at all the analysis we engage in as parents in 2014!).

Tonight, Ri told me that she completed 91 subtraction problems in five minutes when she had only completed 78 two nights ago. I replied “You are my smart girl!” But then I caught myself and quickly replied: “You worked so hard to raise the number you could complete and never gave up – great job!” So who knows where that mixed message will take her.

In the end, I think she will be just fine. After all, does she look like she lacks confidence?!

20140918-224344.jpg

Our meatball poet

Maria and her third grade class hosted a poetry cafe on Tuesday this week. She kept enticing Jon and I with how much we’d enjoy her poem. I asked her a few nights before if she was nervous. She replied “a little but some kids stood up and cried or shook the entire time they spoke so I’m doing better than them.” God love her.
I arrived home Tuesday to find her already made up in her new Target dress, hair flowing, lip gloss on, and a dab of light pink eye shadow rubbed perfectly on her eyelids.
“What do ya think?” She knew exactly what I’d say.
“I think you are beautiful inside and out and I think you are gonna rock out the poetry cafe tonight.” She smiled wide and twirled around the driveway.
We ate some Mac-n-cheese and headed down to school with three boxes of Girl Scout cookies (I forgot I volunteered to bring a snack – I knew the 15 boxes we ordered would come through in a pinch).
As we were walking towards the school door, Maria looked back at me to tell me to hurry up. She stared at me from my head to my toes and cried “that’s what you’re wearing to the cafe?!” I thought I had done pretty good – I had on a new t-shirt, nice jeans and a pair of sporty gym shoes. I curtly replied “you gotta dress hip for these cafés.” She kept walking. When she looked back at me, I pouted. She gave a tiny smile and said “sorry mom, I’m just nervous.” Oh, sweet baby. I hugged her and she was off to her classroom. Mario and I were off, too, towards the baked goods table.
Grandma Meg surprised Ri and Jon made it on time, too (dad waited to go to Michigan until after the cafe, which landed him up north at 1 am – true love for his baby girl).
Ri gave an impeccable performance. She wrote about a Swedish meatball hosting a party for international friends. It was smart and funny (and of course, the best from her mama’s eyes!).

20140320-130507.jpg

20140320-130553.jpg

They had paper and chalk on the tables so families could write poems to the kids. I looked down after Ri finished and Mario had written “you did a gud job Ri”. Break my heart.

20140320-131442.jpg
Afterwards, the kids rushed to the sweets table and ran around together giggling.

20140320-131944.jpg
Mario took the stage to sing – he can’t resist not being in the spotlight.

20140320-132034.jpg
As we left the school, Ri turned around and moved close to me.
“This may sound a little weird, mom but … I’m really proud of myself.”
The night bursted into color and the sky sang “Alleluia”. I was so excited to hear her say those words to me. I think she’s starting to believe more in herself and recognize all of the amazing qualities she possesses. There is nothing more gratifying to a mom that’s seen those qualities all along.