The Mama Bear is in full force today. Hear me roar.
I thought I signed Ri up for soccer this past Spring with Kiwanis. Turns out I didn’t. But last week, I went to the first practice without Ri to ask the coaches if I could add her in the mix. They agreed. So Ri practiced last Thursday and actually enjoyed it! She wanted to keep playing. I, in turn, was even more excited since I’ve been wanting Ri to try soccer since she was two. She took a soccer ball home with her and was ready for practice tonight.
Then the email arrived at 8 am. It stated that Ri never registered and therefore could not play. The team was too full.
I wrote back and pleaded that she be let in since she already went to practice and got a ball and was so excited. No response. I emailed again asking if I could simply speak to someone for a few minutes. No response.
How obnoxious.
As a parent, I would at least have the courtesy to call a distressed parent back and talk through why the decision had been made. Maybe think of some alternatives. Maybe not. But at least give the courtesy of a call.
I get that there needs to be deadlines. I get there are rules. But really, we are talking 3rd and 4th grade girls here and a team that is not “competitive” in relation to a select team or the like. So why not bend the rules a bit to let a girl who wants to try out a sport try it? I’m annoyed even more that two women are the ones ignoring my request to talk. Shouldn’t us women try to help each other out when it comes to our daughters?
I know I’m blowing this up to be a much bigger issue than it is. Jon has better perspective: Ri will probably take it in stride and move on. I did fail to register her on time. She can join a team in the Spring. Move on, Mary.
But damn if it doesn’t just grate on me. Probably because I didn’t sign her up on time so I feel bad. And probably because I’ve been wanting Ri to play more sports. Ok, I see a lot of these are my own issues. But I also feel that non-competitive leagues at this age should be a bit more fluid in admission; and girls at this age should be given opportunities at every turn in order to grow and learn more about themselves and what they love and don’t love.
Ok, so I will move on now, or at least after I make one more call….
Tag: Girls
Act up!
I appreciate what the author of this article is trying to get across – don’t raise your daughter to be self conscious about her body. Tell her she’s strong. Let her know you run to be healthy. Inform her you do squats to climb mountains. Educate her to eat well to live a long time.
I don’t disagree, and it certainly doesn’t hurt to remind us of how important this is for our daughters to hear.
But damn if I don’t say those things over and over again to Maria yet she still looks at herself in the mirror at times and says “I’m too big.”
I stand behind her when I hear that and make her look at herself. “Keep looking,” I tell her. I look in the mirror with her. I talk about how strong she is. How she can pick me up because of those muscular legs. How her arms are able to carry loads of groceries in the house. How her booty pushes down on those bike pedals and makes her ride like the wind around town.
She smiles. She nods her head and hugs me. And I hope those affirmations strike deep into her soul and remain.
The other morning I walked into her room and noticed three barbies lying on the floor. One was naked with her perky boobs standing straight up in salute. Another had on a party dress up to her mid-thigh; her tiny legs the circumference of pencils. Another had on a bikini with a stomach that was not only flat but actually concave into her body like a tiny dip in the road.
Hmmm, I wonder where she finds evidence to make her feel “big.”
My mom got me the Dusty doll when I was Ri’s age. She had dull brown hair cut to her shoulders, size AA breasts, if that, hidden under a t-shirt, a pair of shorts and gym shoes. Yea, that explains a lot about me today. That Dusty doll made a lasting impression on me through my love of sports and hard labor and lifting weights and running shorts and gym shoes (put me near pairs of heels and nothing happens but put me near pairs of running shoes, and I salivate!)).
Ri has little rolls on her tummy. I catch her doing what I did as a young girl. Pinching the rolls with her two fingers as she lies in bed staring up at the ceiling. What’s she thinking? I remember feeling “if only I could get rid of these, I’d be as pretty as —-.” I grew up with MTV and with Charlie’s Angels. Madonna. Christie Brinkley. I remember wishing – with my like flat-chested girlfriend – of having big boobs and a tiny waist like the actresses on tv. Ri is growing up with Selena Gomez, Christina Aguilera, and tv shows with perky girls in fashionable clothes. Nothing has really changed.
I’m so thankful for the women that raised me. Through them, I saw that there were other qualities about a girl that mattered. I watched full-bodied women dance in flowing dresses without a care; I listened to women of all shapes laugh together at the dining room table; I witnessed intellect and debate shoot from the mouths of women in my home and in my school. These women weren’t hung up on their dress size – they were hung up on life and fully experiencing it. Amen sisters.
Luckily, a lot of those same women are helping me raise Ri. She’s bearing witness to many of the acts I bore witness to as a young girl. Amen again, sisters.
And so while I appreciate and take note of these articles that remind us to watch what we are saying to our daughters and how we are talking about our own bodies around them, I also need to keep in mind the importance of actions.
Buy the Dusty dolls and the science kits.
Dance around the house like an exotic butterfly.
Fix the kitchen drain with my own two hands.
Mow the lawn.
Jump on my bike with Ri and ride a trail.
Embrace my stomach and my butt.
Write a poem.
Lift heavy weights.
Flex my muscles.
Let Ri see, as well as hear, that no matter if you have lotsa rolls or just a few, who cares? Concentrate on simply diving into life and fully experiencing it.
I think she’s getting it just fine.
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We lost – get over it.
My girls lost their tournament game last night by an unspectacular score of 3-0. They were not hitting anything and our pitching could have been stronger. The bottom line – the other team was more “on” then we were for the hour and a half we played. Oh well, you win some and lose some, right? WRONG!
I was so bummed for my girls. The night before I had been anxious about the game and had nightmares about forfeiting it. How ridiculous. A half hour prior to the game, I had the girls throw and hit to prepare. I got them all revved up and put black ink under their eyes.
We got up to bat and my three best hitters struck out. 1-2-3. Are you kidding? Then my best pitcher went out on the mound and threw balls. The other team was well aware she was off and the girls just waited for a walk. Nonetheless, the first two innings our infield made spectacular double plays and kept the score 0-0. But we had one bad inning in the third – combo pitching and infield errors – that allowed three runs to score on us. And that did us in for the season. We could not get ourselves on base to save our lives. The girls just did not have their game on the way we needed to beat the other team. And that happens and it is ok, right? WRONG!
I lined up the girls after the last out and counseled them to congratulate the Giants and be proud of what they accomplished this year. Inside, I was churning though. After we shook hands, we circled up and I told the girls how proud I was of them; how they’d grown; how they’d come together as a team. They were dejected, and I was too. But I kept the mood upbeat and did not show it. We put our hands in the circle and chanted 1-2-3 “Go Reds!” one last time. One of my assistant coaches said “let’s also do a cheer for the Giants in order to be good sports.” The girls cringed. I followed up and demanded it was the right thing to do. Hands in the middle. 1-2-3 “Good game Giants!” we all cheered. And then the girls dispersed. Parents left. And I cleaned up bubble gum wrappers and sunflower seed kernels. I felt like I hadn’t done enough.
What is this perfectionist gene I got stuck with and why can’t I ship it off to never never land? Somehow my mind warps an excellent season with my third and fourth grade girls’ softball players to a lame one. The parents are probably mad that I didn’t coach better. The girls are going to be in a state of ruin because they didn’t get trophies. I should have worked harder at throwing and catching with them. Stop brain. Just stop. Do these gals pictured below seem dejected?!
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Loosen up on the control, Mary. You can’t mold the future and what it will bring. You can’t do anything about a girl striking out or a missed catch. Life can suck sometimes and you don’t always get what you want. Life is messy and imperfect, girls, but you keep moving forward. It doesn’t help being a control freak and a bit OCD about needing everything to go perfectly but the game provided yet another teaching opportunity to me that things aren’t perfect and I can’t make them so. And DQ helped lessen the pain a bit, too….
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And so we all move on to a new season in 2015, and embrace the great memories we have from this 2014 season, right?
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Swim party = no mom
And so it begins….
The Grandview pool held a swim party on Friday night for incoming 4-6 graders. I was hoping Maria would want to go. I knew as soon as she found out Sophie was going that would deal the deal.
She and Sophie went to Mario’s tee ball game on Friday night. They ended at 7:30 and she was urging me to go so they could head to the pool. I told her it didn’t start until 8 pm but she didn’t care.
“We need to get our stuff and be the first ones down there!”
Eventually we got Mario to stop tackling his buddies and head home. Ri got on her swimsuit and packed her duffel with Sophie’s clothes and her clothes, sunscreen, and gum.
Then she asked for money. “For what,” I asked her.
“For snacks, mom. Swimming makes us hungry.”
I gave her $6 for snacks. Then Jon called her into the family room and reached over for his wallet to give her more. She held up her arm:
“No, dad, mom gave me money. We don’t need more.”
It was precious. If it was Mario in that situation, he would have closed his mouth and grabbed that money and ran.
We drove down to the pool and Ri asked me for the $10 to get into the event. I told her that I would pay.
“But I don’t want you to come in with us!”
Oh, I guess I have officially hit the “not cool” mark. I told her I would just go to the desk in the front and pay and then leave. She sighed but allowed it. We got there at 8:05 and there was a line 20 people deep. I knew I’d hear about it.
“Mom, I told you we had to leave earlier!”
But then she dropped it and talked to friends while we waited in line. Once I paid, they zoomed inside. I followed just to say goodbye…and make sure no one attacked her….
She stood in line with Sophie to take a lap swim test to show she could go off the diving board. I wanted to stay and root her on but she brushed me away. Sure enough, this was the start of independence and it at once made me happy about her confidence and sad that she wanted me to depart.
When I picked her up at 10:30, she was jumping off the high dive and having a blast with Sophie and her friend, Nina. She did not want to go. She had a great time. She was in one piece. No one had attacked her. All was good.
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Mother’s Day Sheet Cake
Maria knows her mother very, very well. She knows her mom does not want jewelry for Mother’s Day. Or flowers. Or heaven forbid, dinner at a fancy restaurant. No, she knows her mom salivates and gets giddy over sheet cake, especially sheet cake from Giant Eagle. So, she asked Jon to take her on Friday night, before he left for England, to Giant Eagle so she could order a cake for her sweet-toothed mama.
She took two pictures – one of her as a baby and one of Mario. She asked that they print them on the cake. When they asked the size, she said “the biggest one.” So Jon agreed to a half sheet cake that serves 35-40 people. Yeah, that’s what I need. Ri made up some excuse about why we needed to pick up the cake on Saturday (for her school function) so I wouldn’t know it was for me.
Saturday rolled around and for some crazy reason I thought having my niece and nephew over as well as two neighbor boys would be a good idea (I always have these bright ideas when Jon is away). I worked in the yard while the kids played and all was good. But 5:00 pm rolled around and Ri came screaming “we have to get the cake I ordered mom!” So we piled in all 6 kids (thank god Jon left his truck) and took off for Giant Eagle. They were screaming at people out the window and singing songs and having a whooping good time up to Giant Eagle. When we got out of the truck, I put on my stern face and told them they had “to act right” in the store (I also bribed them with a donut if they were good). We hit the card section first to find mother’s day cards. The girls picked out sentimental ones dripping with love and flowers. The boys picked up a birthday card that contained boobs jiggling back and forth when you opened it. Lovely.
I quickly moved them over to the bakery and got the cake. Then we walked over to the park. There were puddles galore due to the rain all morning. I should have seen trouble coming. Gio soaked himself and kicked water on Mario. You know how Mario gets when he gets wet outside of his control. Pissed. He splashed back and it was war. But it turned into a hysterical war with the boys laughing and playing and squeezing mud in their palms. The small delights of being a kid. Not caring about getting muddy and dirty and soaked. But after a while, I started to fret that my lax parenting style may not be the same as my brother-in-law’s or my neighbor’s so I rounded up the crew and we headed back to the car. They hooted and howled and I tried to stay calm but the nerves were frazzling a bit after I took them to Walgreens to pick up pictures. Why do I try to run 5 errands with six kids?! We made it to the truck without me hitting or screaming at anyone – in fact, they had me in stitches with the shirts Ri and Alana created.
We gathered everyone in the car, buckled up, and headed to Wendy’s for kids’ meals. On the way, some guy pulled out in front of me and I braked hard. I heard a loud scream in the back. And then a wailing. Ri’s hand slammed on the cake box and caused her baby head to split in half. She was hysterical. I pulled into Wendy’s and took a look. Yep, her body was split in two. I tried to joke about it but she was devastated. “This was supposed to be a perfect cake for you, mom!” So, we got Wendy’s and headed back to Giant Eagle to beg for a re-do. I reached in to get the cake and written all over the box was “I’m sorry I ruined your cake Mom.” This was your surprise and I wanted to see you smile.” Frown faces decorated the box everywhere. Well, after tracking down the manager, Giant Eagle could do nothing else but make another cake after reading Ri’s words to me. I went back to the truck and let Ri know a new one would be made for pick-up on Sunday and she clapped in delight. By the time we got home it was close to 8 pm. We ate, took baths and showers, played, and took Gio and Alana home at 9:45. Of course, we had to play with their new hamsters for a while so we arrived back home at 10:30 pm. Ri was fast asleep but Mario was wide awake. He finally crashed at 11 along side me at 11:01.
Ri woke at 6:50 am on Sunday and begged Mario to go downstairs with her to make me breakfast. I begged her to sleep a bit longer but she was way too excited about making me breakfast. So, alas, there they were downstairs at 7 am making eggs and toast and sending Rocco upstairs to wish me a good morning by jumping right on my stomach and sitting on my neck. Happy Mom’s Day!
Ri cooked my eggs over medium – yes, she fried them on the stove without me knowing – and microwaved bread since she couldn’t work the toaster. She confirmed she let Mario no where near the stove. The eggs were perfectly fried like the cooks used to make at Perkins. We played Scavenger Hunt after breakfast (their favorite board game) and then I convinced them to walk to Stauf’s for coffee and bagels. We took the Flintstone game cards and I whooped on them the first game.
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Grandma Ionno met us at Stauf’s. She brought her French vanilla hot tea bag with her so she was a cheap date just asking for hot water. She loves that tea! Her Mother’s Day gift to me was lottery cards (my addiction) and to take the kids a few hours so I could get a massage. The best gift someone could give me after my weekend. I went to Yi’s Relaxation Station and got pounded on for 45 minutes. Heaven. I came home to find Grandma and the kids standing next to a pile of junk on the sidewalk. Mario was asking to bring home a chair and Ri wanted a lamp. Grandview had its annual city-wide garage sale on Saturday and everyone puts out their junk out on Sunday. One man’s junk is another man’s treasure and boy if Mario doesn’t live that saying to the fullest. He can’t resist anything he sees. He found a green vase at one house and questioned “why would anyone give this away? I could get $20 for it! They must be rich. Can I take it home and try to sell it?” Pathetic, that kid is ridiculous about money.
Patty left around 4 pm and the kids and I went to Giant Eagle to get my cake. It was the most beautiful creation ever!
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Ri was so excited to get it for me. She is like me with how she really thinks through gifts for people. She knows how I love my sheet cake and my kiddos.
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We brought it home and cut the first of many pieces. We decided to wait to cut through any bodies or heads until later. I wanted to cherish the pictures as long as I could. After cake, I read them a book and rubbed their backs and told them that I couldn’t ask for more awesome kids. Then I snuck downstairs and ate one more piece of heaven…with ice cream.
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Girls lunch out
Ri wanted to take some girls out to lunch for her birthday this week and the only day we could do it was today. I thought rather than spending $100 on Panera (which is seriously what it would have cost between smoothies and meals and desserts), I’d buy a pizza and take them back to the house.
What a hoot it was to watch them. They are a more calm goofy than Mario and his buddies. One thing that both cracked me up and scared me too death was this scene:
These are Jon’s old beer cans he has collected since he was in his 20’s, and they found it hilarious to act like they were drinking out of them. I have a feeling I may get a photo just like this one when they are home from college and having a summer reunion.
I loved that they devoured the entire large pizza and them devoured the candy and cookie jars while we sang happy birthday to Ri. They have no issues with taking down some grub and I hope it stays that way.
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They still enjoy playing with barbies, and we’re laughing about how messy Ri’s room was – I told Ri it’s pretty telling when her friends say her room is messy! Still didn’t faze her a bit though. We topped off the lunch with candy and leis, modeling, and lots of laughter and singing in the car on the way back to school.
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Got ’em back to school a few minutes late but I have a feeling that they will be able to schmooze their teacher and avoid trouble….>
Boys will be … Nutty
Maria begged me to take her to lunch this week. I asked her if she wanted a friend to come along. On Sunday night, she was adamant that it should just be me and her and Mario. By Monday night, she had decided that she wanted a friend to go and no Mario. Mario had already heard that I was planning a lunch outing, however, so he rightfully demanded to be able to go too and bring a friend. It’s such a lesson in girl and boy behavior to take these kids out to lunch. Maria and her friend giggle and talk quietly. They order their lunch (which by the way is $29 at fricken’ Panera between two bowls of soup, two smoothies and two desserts – outrageous!) and sit at the outside table politely.
Then there are the boys. They throw things at the girls during the car ride to Panera. They tackle each other on the grass as we walk from the car to Panera. They refuse to tell me anything they will eat at Panera besides chocolate cookies. And they try to embarrass the girls. My god. I thankfully managed one good photo of the girls before the boys photo bombed with bunny ears above Ri’s head.
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I took the boys to Stauf’s and all they wanted to do was play fight. I tried to get them to eat a bagel but after a bite they would go back to chasing each other. Now, I could have put on my disciplinarian hat and forced the boys to sit and eat…ha. That’ll be the day. I don’t have it in me. So I tried to interest them with questions.
“If you could be a super hero who would you be?”
“Superman so I could punch someone in the face!”
Hysterical laughter.
Not exactly the thinking I wanted to generate.
“If you were an animal, what would you be?”
“A tiger so I could scratch you.”
Belly laughter.
I stopped the questions and went back to letting them wrestle.
I heard a “mom” shout up the street and saw two of my own gender walking down the street sipping on smoothies.
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Ahhh, kids I understand. As I snapped their picture, Mario and his friend blew past me calling each other “Dumb” and “Stupid” and poking one another. My girlfriend with all daughters tells me I should love the fact that my son is not at all into the drama of who likes who and petty name calling and spats, which is all she deals with in her three girls.
I’m not convinced.
But at least he counterbalances his rowdiness with kisses and snuggling in the evening. Yet, that’s when Ri starts to get her ‘tude going on. Ahh, sweet parenthood.>
Cake Walk 2014
Cake Walk 2014 kicked my butt. I don’t know if it was the opening and closing of the festivities or the loud band music and even louder kids, or the chocolate cake we devoured once home.
Maria went with her friend, Kathryn since she had a play date with her after school. This year she continued to step one foot closer to teenage-hood. She came to see Mario and me only a few times and it was only to ask for money and water. She hung out with one group of girls for a minute and then others the next. I likes seeing that.
Then she found our next door neighbor who is Grandview’s baton twirler and stood with her to try to learn how to twirl. She must have stood up there for 30 minutes.
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Meanwhile, I should have left at 8:30 to head up to the event with Mario because he would have never known what time it started. I gotta take advantage of his youth while I am able. And all he wanted to do was play the kids games and all I wanted to do was try to win a cake. Guess who won?
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He played the golf game again and again. Then he moved onto the football game where the volunteer was absent. All the kindergarten boys were loving the freedom of that. Soon a volunteer showed up so we moved to the lollipop game. Such anxiety each time he pulled a sucker out to see if it had a blue tip or not. He moved to the treasure chest and scored these dandies.
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Then we hit the baseball pitch. He was allowed to stand on the line closest to the catcher but refused. He wanted to stand where the older kids had to stand. And don’t you know he got a strike on his first pitch.
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Ri kept trying to win a cake but to no avail. I finally got Mario to head down with me and try to win. After three more hole-in-one attempts, he finally followed.
There was Ri standing in line with Kathryn and Evie. She smiled when she saw me and waved (at least I still get that). Mario and I went to another line and danced to the music as the band played. The music stopped, we sat in our chairs and hoped. Unfortunately, our numbers weren’t called. Mario got livid last year when this happened but this year he brushed it off. We stayed for the band’s last tune and although we didn’t win a cake, we bought a sweet blue one in the form if a mustache that Kathryn and her mom had made. And we dug in at 10 pm when we finally got home.
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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!).
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.
Afterwards, the kids rushed to the sweets table and ran around together giggling.
Mario took the stage to sing – he can’t resist not being in the spotlight.
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.
Fashion sense
Note to Maria:
Never doubt your fashion sense. I want you to sport the basketball shorts with the hair flower with the go-go boots when you live in NYC and run a health care company. Change it up from the tired old black suit and black heels and pearl necklace. If anyone can do it, it is you, my dear.
"MOM!" 