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.

Happy 14th birthday Ri!

I thought 13 would kill me. I was wrong. 14 is taking me down. How has this munch been on this planet for 14 years?

This year has brought 8th grade and a continued desire for school to last all year-round. She loves it. Her favorite thing about Summer is back-to-school shopping. She’s a freak, as Mario points out. She loves being with her friends throughout the day; she loves the structure and routine; and she loves her teachers. What’s that I heard about the math teacher? He’s mean? Not in Maria’s eyes-she thinks he’s the bomb.com. There is nothing she she complains about when it comes to school.

This year brought basketball. It also brought soccer and softball but I mention basketball because she swore she would never play the sport again. But when friends call, she can’t help but answer. They needed one more person for the team, and she agreed even though she readily declares her hatred for the sport (she did manage to score a few baskets this year) It is clear that her main drive for being on a sports team is not to actually develop in the sport and become elite, but rather, to embolden her relationships with her girlfriends. I will never forget her response to a teammate who scored a soccer goal after Ri came out of the game. She jumped up and down and hugged her when she came in for water. She was genuinely happy for her and could care less that it was not her who scored. She’s a team player to the nth degree. Coaches love her for it and rely on her to keep the other girls in line (right or wrong). She’s the mother hen of the bunch in every sport.

She gets along with everyone. She sees the good in all of her classmates, and is always ready to stand up for them if someone questions them. She is able to hang out with a wide range of gals, and still prefers being with a big group rather than one friend. She wants to be the host with the most when she has friends over – an abundance of snacks and drinks and an assurance that each friend has a snack she enjoys. She will undoubtedly host some sweet parties. Being with friends was the only reason she walked to school every day!

She fell madly in love with Blake Shelton (she still adores Patrick Swayze but he got pushed to the side a bit). She only asked for VIP tickets to the Blake Shelton concert in Pittsburgh in February. She got more than she could imagine when he dedicated a song to her and threw her his guitar pick. That could have been not only a Christmas present but a birthday present, Easter present, and Fourth of July present!

She experienced Washington DC with her eighth-grade class. I will never forget her walking through the back door after Jon picked her up from the school at 10 PM at night. She was bawling and I ran towards the door to ask her what was wrong. She struggled to get out the words:

“I miss my friends so much. I just want to be back in DC. We will never have that time back again. I just want to be back there!”

Like I said, she loves big groups of people. She thrives in that atmosphere.

She got chosen to be on the student council this year and is applying to be student council president next year as a freshman. She sets her goals high. I love that she is not fearful of the risk of disappointment. She just dives in and goes for it. She certainly does not have any fear of getting up in front of her classmates.

She got asked to be a junior bridesmaid for my cousin’s wedding in July. If we weren’t convinced that she loves a good party with s Tom of people, we are now. She soaked in the frivolity of the two evening affair and fit in just perfectly with the 20 somethings (yikes!). She rode from the church to the reception hall in the party limousine with the wedding party, even:) She didn’t want Jon or I anywhere in site. This was her evening to shine and my god, she did!

This is the year that she has retreated down to the basement. She loves to sit on the gray couch with her computer on her lap and watch Grey’s Anatomy or the latest YouTube tutorial. She has taken to sleeping down there, and we are close to agreeing it can be her bedroom. She loves the privacy. We have a shower down there so she can get herself ready to go in the mornings without seeing any of us! She gets up before the crack of dawn unlike any of the rest of us and likes the hour and a half of time to do her thing. We still aren’t quite sure what “her thing” is that she does besides straightening her hair at times, hopefully doing her ankle exercises, getting clothes together for practice, and eating her bowl of cereal. And, of course, staring at her phone.

She is still smitten with her cousin, Elena. She will do anything for that girl, including taking a long walk because she wants to ride her bike to the pancake restaurant. She won’t do that for anybody else. Their relationship is as sweet as can be with Elena still calling Maria “Meemaw” and enbracing her fiercely when they see each other. Elena still has moments of frustration with Meemaw and Ri has times where she wishes she was back at home in her basement by herself, but inevitably, every time we leave her, Maria misses that little girl immensely.

Ri is heading to high school next year. How is that at all possible? I remember back to when she was 9 months old and clinging to me. All I could think was “one day she will be able to do things on her own, feed herself, get dressed…and I can have some time to myself.” Shit, what was I thinking? I want that 9 month-old back so badly just to be able to feel her cling, and smell her skin, and kiss all over her head and toes. However, I also want this teenage girl who is finding her voice and navigating her way through this crazy life.

She only has four more years with us and then she’s off to college (she has made it very clear she will be off to college) and I will not only miss her clinging but I will simply miss her face. It’s really hard to think about not seeing her every day. But, I’m jumping ahead. I need to absorb all things Maria while I have her here. And there is so much to absorb.

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.

Dancing and basketball

Maria had her eighth-grade dance on Friday night. We hit the jackpot with the first online dress we bought. She loved it, it looked spectacular on her, and I did not need to go into a shopping mall. Win all around! Being on student council, she had the task of coming up with the theme of the dance and decorating for it. They decided on a Hollywood awards theme and she ended up winning “most likely to become a millionaire” (and take care of her parents). The boy who also won it is the boy she has had a crush on for quite a while. Hilarious. I heard from her friends that some of the girls danced but the boys basically sat against the wall. Nothing has changed from the 1980s.

Jon and I realized that we had tickets to see John Cusack on Friday night. We realized this on Wednesday evening while talking with Jon’s brother and sister-in-law at the house. They stopped by late in the evening as they were heading to Colorado. The conversation turned to Christmas gifts and Jon’s brother asked him what he got. We both looked at each other in concern. Had we forgotten to go to our John Cusack event? I had bought Jon the tickets for his Christmas gift and we had forgotten all about it. Luckily, we had not missed it; however, it was two days away. We found someone for Mario to hang with because he gets scared being at the house by himself.

Maria wanted a bunch of her girlfriends to come back for a sleepover after the dance, which we allowed. What were we thinking? We came back to the looks of a sorority house at 4 AM. The kitchen was trashed with empty chip bags, cake mix and batter all over the counters and floor, and random freezer pop plastic tubes with remaining Popsicle juice everywhere. The girls were pumped up on sugar and laughing hysterically in the basement. Jon and I hit the sack at midnight and could hear them loud and clear for some time. We keep saying that this is just our insurance for when we get older and the kids need to watch over us. They better come to our side after we allowed all this!

Jon was a saint and took all of the girls to the eighth grade boys basketball game in Whitehall at 9:30 AM the next morning. They got to see their opposite sex classmates win the championship, and then Jon took them out to lunch afterwards. He is a sucker. Maria got home and headed right back out the door for a Girl Scout campout from Saturday night until Sunday. She loves these types of weekends – filled with friends.

Mario was charged up that Jon and I had something to do on Friday because he got to spend the night with his buddy. His buddy’s mom took them to Target to and they ended up riding bikes around the store. I guess the teenagers who were managing the area didn’t care. Gotta love them. He also managed to buy a whole pack of Oreos that he chowed down through the night. I took him to his basketball lesson on Saturday morning, and he felt good about his shooting for the tournament game that evening. He wanted to come home and show me all of the moves he learned. After he did that, I told him he had to help me fold laundry. He agreed but on one condition – that we watch the most famous dunks on Netflix while we folded laundry.

Peepaw came in on Saturday evening to watch him in Marysville. He got treated to a blowout with Mario making over 10 points. Grandma Ionno came in on Sunday morning for the 9 AM game and got treated to another blowout with Mario making quite a few points as well. But then the noon game came – and the team could not make shots to save their life. I could see Mario’s frustration from a mile away. The team he was put with for this tournament are good kids but a few of them lack the passion and drive that Mario has for the sport. That, in addition to Mario not getting his shots in, caused him to look very flustered on the court. I kept trying to yell for him to get out of his head but he was tuning us all out. Jon finally took him out in the last minute because he was complaining so much. He has got to learn to be a team player and to not blame others or the refs (even if they may be at fault). He’s gotta recognize his own flaws as well. But, a lecture right after the loss was not going to go anywhere. He had calmed down within 15 minutes and even managed to say “love you” when we left him to watch his buddies play another game.

Hip Hop Nutcracker

As I scrolled through Facebook a couple of months ago, an ad for the Hip-Hop Nutcracker popped up. Since having kids, I have felt a tinge of jealousy towards families who post pictures of themselves all dressed up at the Nutcracker. Every year, I ponder the idea of dressing up and hitting that seasonal favorite. However, I never get around to it. December hits and it is a mad flurry of shopping, last-minute deadlines, parties, you name it. Besides, I did not think Mario or Maria would care for the show too much. It is long and neither of them enjoy watching ballet.

But when the Hip Hop Nutcracker ad came in view, I thought “this may be a possibility.” I have been struggling with things to do with the kids together. Mario loves movies; Maria does not. Maria loves to bake cookies; Mario does not. Neither off them ever want to take a walk with me! They have completely different interests now that they are older. But neither of them have had the chance to experience the Hip Hop Nutcracker so they couldn’t really say no to the invite in good faith. And besides, I did think Mario, at least, would enjoy it. He loves to watch old-school 80s rap videos with me and has quite a few hip-hop moves he has mastered. I wavered about whether Maria would enjoy it, on the other hand, since she was not a hip hop fan. How I gave birth to a child who loves country music is beyond me. After thinking about it some more, I decided that I would invite a few of Maria’s friends and their moms in order for Maria to have some girlfriends attend the show with her. Four other moms immediately responded that they would love to go with me.

We decided to go to Northstar for dinner before the show. I let Mario skip out on dinner with all of the women and girls and go to Subway with Jon instead. The North Star dinner was delicious, and I had a great time talking with fellow moms. Maria and her girlfriends sat at another table. They ordered smoothies and meals, and giggled most of the time. After dinner, they begged to have five dollars each to go across the street to a gourmet candy shop. Meanwhile, another mom and I stashed some giant, warm cookies to eat during the show.

After the girls spent what seemed like hours at the candy shop, we headed down to the Palace Theatre. One of the moms drove us, and somehow was able to get the very first parking spot in the parking garage. I will drive with her all the time with that luck. Mario met us at the front doors and we went up to our seats. But first, of course, I had to get the obligatory pictures.

The show began with the emcee and the DJ on the stage. The MC got the audience pumped up by rapping and playing old-school 80s jams. All of the moms stood up and hollered and danced for the first 20 minutes of the show to the embarrassment of all the teen girls in front of us. Maria and Mario kept looking at me with eyes blazing “sit down mom!” Mario tugged on me a few times but eventually they both gave up on their pleading because they knew I would not stop. As the show began, we settled down in our seats. I sat next to Mario and loved every second of it. The athleticism of the dancers was amazing. They also did a few dance moves that Mario does currently so that made us smile. Of course, when one of the dancers came out and spun on top of his head for a full 20 seconds, Mario looked at me and quipped “I could easily do that” (I did make him try it when we got home and although he could stand on his head, that was about the end of it.).

During intermission, I asked the girls how they liked it. They all smiled and said that it was good. I don’t know if they just knew that I am the one that got the event together so they did not want to disappoint me or whether they really liked it. Meanwhile, my daughter gave me the straight up truth. She did not really like the music but the show was “OK.” Mario told me that he was enjoying it. I don’t know if he truly liked it or whether he knew how excited I was about it so he did not want to burst my bubble. That kid loves to see me happy. During most of the show, he held my hand and waved it around when the emcee told us to dance. He’s my bud, for sure.

At the end, the emcee came out and let us engage in one more jam session before the end of the night. It was a blast. I think Maria and Mario may have been bored at times during the show but I think in the end when they were laying in their beds getting ready to sleep, they would say that it was a good time.

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.

Ri ❤️ DC

Maria loved her eighth-grade trip to DC. She loved it so much that when she walked through the back door (after Jon picked her up from the school bus at 10 pm), she was bawling. I thought something had happened to her and glanced back at Jon to get some insight. He gave me a little smile and shook his head. Then Maria fumbled some words out amidst sobs:

“I will never have that trip with my friends again. I didn’t want to see it end. I want to be back in DC.”

This girl. She loves these types of gatherings – big groups of family or big groups of friends hanging out and talking. Meg and I had just been talking about this the other day. She was talking about how she tends to like being with one other person and not a big crowd. Jon is like that as well. I can really go either direction but tend to be more spirited when more people are around. There is no doubt about our girl though. Her joie de vivre is in direct correlation with the number of people around her. So, this trip to DC with 80 of her closest friends smashed together on a few buses infused her heart with joy. She absolutely had a blast.

When she finally settled down after heading upstairs has washing her face and getting on pjs, she came into our bedroom and laid next to Jon. She could have probably talked for the next two hours about everything they did. She gave us a brief snapshot of going to Gettysburg, going to the mall and eating with her friends, hanging out on the bus and eating their snacks. She had the widest smile in all the pictures we saw of her on Instagram.

As I put her to bed that night, I told her that she had quite a gift. She felt deeply – to the core – and that meant she could feel immense joy and love in her bones. I told her that some people don’t ever get to experience that. I also told her that because she felt deeply, she would also have to accept that she may feel negative emotions deeply, also, like the sadness she felt as she entered the house crying. I stated I’d much rather feel it all then not.

Mario and I tried to cheer her up the next morning by making her eggs, bacon and toast and playing a game with her. She gets cheered up around a big group of people; I get cheered up having just a little bit of time alone with my two babes. The moments are far and few between anymore with as much as they have going on and as many things as they want to do … with their friends. Maria was so dejected from having to come home that she didn’t even have the energy to object to a walk to the woods with me and Mario. She eventually began to come back to life only after she realized that she still has another six months as an eighth grader to hang out with all of the friends who went to DC with her.

She was so excited about the thought of going to the farm over the weekend because Meg and Dad we’re having a throng of family out to celebrate Jack returning home from Sweden. Sure enough, when I arrived, I saw her playing with a couple of the young kids in the corner. Her smile was nearly as wide as it was in the DC picture.

Bringing that superhero to life

A friend of mine posted this on her Facebook page the other night. I love it. I have engaged that superhero on a few occasions this week. And that imaginary friend of mine has been most helpful in allowing me to stick with the word “no “and not beat myself up for it every five minutes. It is a crazy thing that we can feel so confident – ready to take on the world – be an amazing being – and then a second later doubt who we are and what we are doing this with this one, crazy life of ours.

Nonetheless, I can see myself maturing around these thoughts and emotions. The other day, I went to Maria’s soccer game. She started the first half and I cheered her on while sitting with the other moms. The ball got close to her but she didn’t move towards it quickly. I have learned to keep my mouth shut during these games and not yell “come on Maria!” Or “get to that ball!” However, just because I am not yelling it does not mean I am not thinking it. She had a couple of balls hit near her and she just did not have the oopmh to go and grab them. When she got subbed out I went down to her bench to see if her feet were hurting her. She caught me coming and waved me away briskly.

“Mom, no parents are allowed down here!”

I translated that to mean I’m not allowed down there. I could not help myself. I started to turn around but quickly chirped over my shoulder “run after that ball when you get back in there!”

I walked back up the stone steps to sit with the moms. I watched Maria on the bench. She sat with her arm wrapped around one of her soccer friends. And when one of her good friends scored a goal a few minutes later, she jumped up from the bench and cheered her on. She was jumping up-and-down and yelling “great job Lucia!” I thought to myself about how I would react when I was her age. I would have been the one on the bench secretly upset that I did not score the goal. I probably would have given a half cheer, if anything. Yet, here was my daughter, cheering wildly for one of her friends. She has her own personality and her own reasons for playing the sport. She doesn’t necessarily play to be the number one scorer on the team. She enjoys being a good partner on the team and rooting on everybody. Hence why she’s a captain. It is not about her – it is about the team. I thought about this my entire way home. I decided that when Maria walked through the door I was going to apologize. I wanted her to know that my competitiveness got in my way, and that the game was for her – not me. I told her she should play the way she wants to play. God love her that she can be so enthusiastic and sincere for her teammates’ scores. It made me realize, too, how much I thrived for recognition as a kid, which is why it was so hard for me to congratulate others because it took it off of me. Woo, a lot of thinking going into a few words to my daughter but that’s how it gets as I get older. Constantly questioning and trying to understand.

And trying like hell to make sure that superhero is by my side.

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