The Power of Titles

Somehow or another I let myself get finagled into "coaching" the Spring Soccer season.

My total experience with soccer consists of watching The Rationalist and The Intuitive play this past season. Frequent refrains upon my lips were "What just happened?", "Why do they have a penalty kick?", "What does offsides mean?", and towards the end of the season,"OH...that's what that circle in the middle of the field is for!"

Basically the soccer organization was desperate. The coach for my sons' team had a family emergency and had to back out and the director kept sending out e-mails looking for someone to "step up" and provide adult supervision and encouragement.

I wrote a reluctant, hesitant e-mail saying that if absolutely nobody else came forward that I could do it...but that he should definitely pick anybody else besides me if he had other options.

"You're the one!" was his reply.

His exuberant confidence in my coaching abilities was actually frustrating to me. It reminded me of the semester that I helped teach English as a second language at my university. It was a temporary gig. I was supposed to be assisting the professor who had a group from Brazil that was specifically at our college for this crash course in English.

I thought that I was a "helper". He decided that I was a "teacher". When I asked him what we were supposed to do for the classes, he said, "Just talk to them."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't believe in curriculum. They'll learn more if you just converse with them."

".....OK...but talk with them about what?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

He refused to give me and the other student teachers any guidance. He had no plan. He had no formula. He had no specific method. His idea was that he could throw us into a class of 15 Brazilians who spoke minimal English and we would "just figure it out".

That was a disaster. An hour every day for a month is a long amount of time to fill up with unscripted, unguided, unfocused conversation. I was there when the "teacher" evaluations came back. It wasn't pretty.

Apparently, the Brazilian group expected much more for the money and time they had dedicated to coming to our school.....like actual teachers who would actually teach.

That was one of the most depressing semesters I had. There's nothing like failing miserably when you don't want to, and while those in charge of you simultaneously refuse to help you succeed in any way.

It was one of those lessons that I have learned many times. Just because someone has a specific title doesn't mean they know jack about what they are doing.

Now, I am being called Coach in the e-mails I keep trading back and forth with the director....which cracks me up.

Coach.

How about Adult who Stands Around and Makes Sure Everyone Stays Alive?

Entitlement and Women's Work

A couple of weeks before Christmas I participated in some troll-baiting at Assistant Village Idiot's blog. One of the links he put up led to an article in which a blogger, towards the end of a post on various topics, declared that 70-80% of entitlement spending programs, like Social Security and Medicare, are simply transfers of wealth from men to women.

Men pay into the system, women reap the benefits.

I made some mild comment about the post needing a warning label that certain people's heads(mine, in particular) might explode upon reading such a post. That was all an anonymous commenter and aforementioned troll needed to begin personally insulting me. And, knowing from the outset the type of person I was dealing with, I engaged in some rhetorical, obnoxious troll-baiting. At times, I tried to comment fairly and seriously....but, as anyone who's been using the internet for more than 20 minutes can tell you, it was all for naught.

It's impossible to talk reasonably with unreasonable people.

I won't go into the entire discussion because I tediously repeated my points ad nauseum already on AVI's post.

However, the discussion did spark some more reflections on the nature of the relationship between men, women and finances.

My troll conversation partner stated that most wealth belonged to men. I asked how those men's wives and daughters would feel about such a statement, and he, in the midst of other things, glancingly referred to the sense of entitlement that my comment implied.

I had to think about that for a minute. Do I feel that women are entitled to the wealth their male partners produce? In today's day and age, many women work and have their own assets. They are not necessarily beholden to men for their financial well-being.

On the other hand, a woman like me, who has stayed home for many years raising children , or worked part-time in order to facilitate the family's needs and provide stability and a constant parental presence in the home, depends greatly on her husband to provide for her and the family.

When DH and I had children we had already decided that I was going to stay home in order to take care of them. This was a mutual decision. At first it was very uncomfortable for me. I was used to paying my own way for things and contributing financially to our marriage/family. I paid my own way through college, bought my own car as a teenager, and had been providing for myself since high school. Learning to be financially dependent upon someone else was disconcerting to me.

And it showed. I felt very constrained about spending money. DH and I are not big spenders anyway, but I still felt self-conscious, at first, about buying a new shirt, or a pair of jeans, or a book at the bookstore. In the beginning it felt as if all the money was DH's money and I was some hanger-on asking, "Please, sir...can I have some more?"

DH never made me feel this way....it was just how I felt because of not feeling as if I had any control over the situation and thinking that I wasn't making a real contribution to the family.

I knew that what I was doing was important, but I hadn't yet realized my worth.

I no longer worry about those types of things. When you have been married for a good length of time and have raised your children together and been through family and health crises together....you realize that marriage and family is all about partnership, working together to build something of value.

In the midst of this partnership you come to the realization that "equality" does not mean that at any particular point in time in a relationship that both parties have completely equal burdens and responsibilities and benefits. There is no such thing as a 50-50 relationship. Life precludes it. Many times it is an 80-20 relationship, or a 0-100 relationship. The hope is that those times of inequality flip-flop and the partner who has formerly contributed "more" will be on the receiving end.

To be comfortable with the inevitable inequalities in relationships, you have to trust the person with whom you are in partnership. They have to be reliable and responsible and aiming for the same goal, one that is larger than one person's particular satisfaction. In the context of such a relationship, "mine" and "yours" fades away. There is only "ours" or "the family's".

In that vein...I do feel "entitled"(though that word has negative connotations for me) to my "husband's" wealth...because I don't see it as his. We are working together. He brings in the most money....I provide our family a maternal glue that holds us together. The loss of either of us would devastate our family.....financially and emotionally.

When my husband gives up "his" wealth and I give up "my" opportunities to get my own wealth, we all benefit.

Dying to self, in the service of something greater than oneself, inevitably brings oneself something even better.

Self-sacrifice is ultimately self-serving...in a good way.

maybe more on this later....

Happy New Year!!

Trying to expose our children to new, exotic experiences, we drug the family up to Illinois for an extended family Christmas and the children's first sighting of some strange white powder that the natives call "snow".

Our little Florida Corolla Before the Christmas Eve Blizzard:

And After:

The Rationalist desperately worked to make a snowman, but the snow wasn't quite wet enough and Frosty was only about 12 inches high

A good first attempt.

The Intuitive tried catching snowflakes on his tongue.

We all prepared for the snowball battle...except for DH who was being the camera man.

We had great fun and the boys spent hours freezing their fingers off playing in the snow. However, The Intuitive suddenly changed his tune about wanting to move to Canada when he's older. After a week of temperatures in the teens and twenties, he's decided that he might stick around Florida after all.

Besides the first sighting of snow, the boys were able to meet many of their cousins and great-aunts and uncles for the very first time and take part in the giant family gathering that happens every year at Christmas. They pack about 75 people into my aunt's house and fill it with food and general revelry...and serious board and card game competitions.

I spent almost every Christmas in the same way when I was growing up.

Later in the week we traveled up to Chicago and took the boys to the Field Museum of Natural History, where they house Sue, the most complete Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton ever excavated.

They weren't as impressed with the Egyptian mummies as I thought they would be. Those always fascinated me when I was their age. They enjoyed the meteorite exhibit and the gold and gem exhibits, but the 3D movie about Sue was probably their favorite part.

After the museum closed, we met my youngest brother near his tiny apartment in Chinatown and took him out for dinner. He's 22 now and noticeably more mature than the last time we saw him a few years ago. He's got a good job, some career goals and surprised us with gift cards for Christmas.

Even former selfish, surly teenagers grow up to be decent people!!

I told him that I was proud of him, and I think it meant a lot to him.

We had a really good visit with my mother, and as we left The Rationalist said that he felt sad that we were leaving Grandma Jan's.

Other than the colds that we were all fighting during our visit, there were nothing but positive experiences. No family drama. No grumpy children. No car problems.

A Norman Rockwell tableau if ever there was one.

It's funny how you never know when those will occur. You can never summon them at will. They just magically emerge for a few moments to be enjoyed and make fond memories to return to again and again.

Good-Bye Imagined Coolness

I now officially qualify for the term "soccer mom".

Well, I was never very cool to begin with.

Both the boys had a lot of fun. The Intuitive's coach was laid back and said he was more interested in the kids having fun. He was good with the kids and has his own son on the team. Many of them are like The Intuitive, and this is their first soccer experience, so he was appropriately gentle with them.

The Rationalist's coach was tough. It's an under 12 team, an older group than The Intuitive's, and they were all business. The coach wasn't mean, but he worked them really hard.

The Rationalist is going to be sore today!

Once I learn how to take better pictures at night, I'll post something that isn't incredibly blurry.

Camp Out

The Rationalist and The Intuitive have been tucked into their air mattress beds inside the tent for their first night of camping out in the back yard by themselves.

DH and I listened as they regaled us with ghost stories, after they were finished reading their books by flashlight.

The gate has been locked with a padlock and the dog is standing by ready to protect them from stray cats and squirrels.

The big question is:

Will the two boys become scared and want back inside or will Mom excessively worry and join them in the tent around 11:00 pm?

I'll let you know in the morning.

I haven't decided if making my son cry makes me a good parent or a terrible one.

Judge for yourself:

"J--, I forgot to sign your school notebook last night. Bring it here along with your homework so I can sign them before we leave for school."

The Intuitive plops down his backpack. I leaf through his papers, sign everything and take a moment to check his homework.

"Honey....you've made a couple of mistakes on this math worksheet. I don't think you understood what you were supposed to do. Your math answers are right, but you were supposed to be looking for a specific answer."

"Don't tell me!"

"Don't tell you what?"

"Don't tell me the answers!"

"I'm not telling you the answers....I'm telling you that you made a few mistakes."

"That's cheating! You're making me a cheater!"

"What?"

"Everybody else will get them wrong and I'll have them all right...all because you made me cheat!"

"I'm not making you cheat."

"Yes you are! I'm not going to change them!"

"......um....YES...you are!"

The Intuitive proceeds to crying and wailing.

"Look....hon...I"m not trying to make you cheat. I'm not giving you the ans--"

"YES, YOU ARE!" he says with intensity.

"I'm going to go get ready to take you guys to school. You'd better be done with this and have it put it away before I come out of my room."

more wailing and crying.

So....have I raised a child who is so honest and independent that he refuses to accept any help?

Or...have I raised a child who is just as stubborn as his parents?

Or.....Am I just a terrible mother in general, causing her child to melt down over something completely insignificant.

I swear I can't tell the difference between those choices some days.

Tonight's Agenda

Breakfast for dinner--strawberry pancakes and scrambled eggs with cheese.

Watching a movie with the kids--Race to Witch Mountain, starring The Rock, ....one of DH's man crushes...or at least it seems that way because I don't think there's been a movie The Rock has been in that we haven't watched....at least a couple repeatedly.

School Days, School Days

Another year has started. With one child in fourth grade and the other in second grade, I am truly beginning to feel my age. Yes, I know I'm not old....but there's no kidding myself that I'm not getting "older".

Despite the less than enthusiastic smiles in the photo above, The Rationalist and The Intuitive both had a great first day at school.

Enjoying the Summer

It's hard to believe that it's almost the middle of July.

We have packed a lot into the last 6 weeks...mini-vacations, visiting family, and day trips to the beach.

Saturday, we headed to our favorite beach and played with the boys for several hours before returning home. It's so much easier, when children are school-age, to do things together. When they're young, so much time is spent managing and supervising their every move.

It's satisfying to be able to sit on the beach with DH for a while and watch them play in the water, without having to worry that they'll run off, get lost, or drown in the 20 second intervals when we look away. The Gulf of Mexico is relatively gentle, so there is less paranoia about a rip tide dragging them out to sea.

Sunday, we made our third attempt to smoke/barbecue some Lexington-style, pulled pork. It actually worked this time. Instead of accidently catching the wood chips on fire, like our last endeavor, we managed to get them smoking the "right" way.

It was a triumph of man over meat!

After dinner, we were sucked into family video game playing. The Rationalist bought Super Paper Mario with some of his birthday money and had egged me into playing it. For some reason, he takes great joy in watching his parents play. He'll pester me over and over to play....probably because he has a limited amount of time in which he is allowed to play. Watching me play is a vicarious way to get more Wii into his life.

Unfortunately, I have become addicted to this game. I didn't make it into bed until 12:30 am because I had worked my way through Francis' castle and hadn't defeated him yet. It became a matter of determination and pride. I couldn't go to bed defeated by a green chameleon.

Overthinking Things

We've been visitng my in-laws for a few days. It's always a pleasant time to relax and have fun with them and our children.

To be helpful, I decided to wash some dishes and fold their laundry.

As I was folding their shirts and shorts, I realized half of the load consisted of their underwear. I initially folded everything else and left the underwear in a pile because I thought that I wouldn't want other people folding my underwear.

A while later, I worried that they might be offended that I folded everything but their underwear....like I was afraid they had cooties or something!

I hurriedly went back and folded every pair.

Neuroses....it's what makes life interesting! :-)

The Up Side of Living in Florida

Beautiful day at the beach.

The reason why they're so skinny.

Washed over by a wave.

Freely floating.

Birthday Bowling

We celebrated The Rationalist's 9th birthday with Cosmic Bowling, cake, and a lot of fun. 

It was a strange sensation for me. Last year's party was at the same place....it was also the last time I saw my father alive.  He came out for The Rationalist's birthday which was also the weekend before my mastectomy.  Although I spoke to him over the summer, between my active treatment and his schedule, we never got together again.

When I was growing up, my father, who by trade was normally an auto mechanic, went through several years as a bowling alley manager.  My brother and I spent many weekend visitations with him hanging out in the bowling alley, learning how to get strikes and spares while my dad finished his shift.  Sometimes we played pool or video games in the arcade area.

I must say that the enjoyment of my childhood memories is in direct proportion to the amount of parental neglect shown towards us.  Two kids having the run of a bowling alley because their dad didn't arrange, or couldn't arrange, to have his visitation weekends off was exciting to us.

I owe my bowling skills to my dad.

I had to learn to bowl for real, unable to rely on the gutter bumpers these young whipper-snappers have to keep all of their shots from being gutter balls. I remember frequently crying out of frustration when I only scored 20 points at the end of a game. I wasn't exactly a good loser.

The Rationalist and all of his friends enjoyed themselves. Each one of them managed to get a strike every now and again, leading to a competitive game.  No one was crushed score-wise.

Mother's Day, the good part

I am now the proud owner of a Snuggie.

I have the smurf blue color...and I am totally rockin' the look.  I can't decide whether I look more like a monk from the year 2234, or an extra from a B, sci-fi movie...I guess the two choices don't need to be mutually exclusive.

The boys each had things they had made and written for me at school.

The Rationalist completed a little booklet of writing prompts: 

My mother looks prettiest when...she goes to church.

My favorite thing about my mother is...she loves me.

If I could give my mother something special just from me it would be...to be nice. (gee, I wonder where he got that from?!...my exasperated pleas to "just be nice" when he's tormenting his younger brother?)

My favorite time together is when we..hug together. (no mention of playing Wii with him...wow!)

I know my mother loves me because...she says so. 

The Intuitive had something similar from his class in a letter form:

Dear Mom, 

You are the best!!  You are better than everything. Thank you for my allowance and choosing a great church.  Have a stupendous Mother's Day.  I love you.

I asked him if he really thought I was better than everything and he said,"Yeah!...except for God." 

I'm not sure I'm worthy of such high esteem, but it was very sweet.

Motherhood has been a source of great joy and extreme despair for me at times.  There are days when I doubt everything I do and wonder if I'm royally screwing up the whole thing.

Will I be the mother whose grown children cringe when she calls?  I'm hoping not.

I love these two boys and am grateful that I have had the chance to be their mother.

Field Trip Fun

This week I helped chaperone Intuitive Monkey's class field trip to the local Museum of Science and Industry.  Part of the fun of having your parent chaperone is having the ability to choose the members of your group.

Miss K-- slowly shook her head with a rueful grin when she gave me my group.  

"He's the one who chose his group members.  Good luck!"

The Three Amigos:

I spent a large portion of my time herding each of them as they would wander off, excitedly forgetting everything but the desire to check out the next greatest display.  

It wasn't that bad, really.  They were rambunctious but pleasant.

The best part of the Museum was the special "kids" area.  It was all hands on and had some extremely cool exhibits--a wind tunnel whose winds reached 80 mph, a tug of war fulcrum, a bed of nails that the children could lay on. 

Neat stuff.

The Sound of Imagination

...is silence.

You know life has changed when prolonged silence from your children isn't an indicator that they have either died, or are up to no good.

Watching them become avid readers has been fun.  During the week they read books for the Accelerated Reader program for school...usually at least 2 books per week.

On the weekends we go to the library and they pick out more books for school and books they think look like fun.

Their latest addiction:  AstroBoy comics/graphic novels....an early manga series from Japan. They read each one at least 3 times.

Parenting

There comes a time in every parent's life when you look at your sweet child, the fruit of your loins, the apple of your eye, and you ask yourself:

"Exactly how much therapy is this kid going to need to recover from having me as a parent?"

I have been crazy busy this past week.  

I had planned to have a garage sale at my dad's house after the New Year in order to empty out the rest of his things before starting construction on the termite-ridden structure.  DH was going to come with me, do the yard work, help organize things and be my garage sale assistant. At the last minute, we received word from the recreation dept. that there would be a basketball practice on January 3rd, the same day as my garage sale.  

I couldn't change the date.  Every other Saturday for the next two months will be chewed up by basketball.

The only solution involved taking two cars to the in-laws, DH 's parents, spending New Year's Eve with them, leaving the kids, bringing the dog, driving two cars to my dad's, working together for a day, sending DH back to pick up the kids, take them home, handle the practice on Saturday, and me staying behind to do the garage sale, meet a person who wanted to buy my dad's motorcycle, and clean things up afterward. 

I'm tired just typing about it.

On the upside, things went fabulously well at the garage sale.  I sold practically everything I put out and succeeded in putting a huge dent into the mess that was my father's workshop/garage. We should be ready to hire a contractor to begin repairs in a couple of weeks.

The only negative was dealing with avid garage-salers.  They are a special breed, these bargain hunters, simultaneously cheap and frivolous in their spending.  They nickel and dime you to death.  Everything I put out was priced incredibly cheaply: $10 for a circular saw and accompanying blades, $5 for a mini-chainsaw, $15 for an electric lawn edger.  The point was to move things quickly.  Yet, despite my rock-bottom prices, people still wanted to negotiate.

Most of the time I didn't care. Every once in a while someone would push me too far, like the man who wanted me to lower the price for my dad's 37-inch TV from $60 to $15, and he was serious.  I told him I would rather give it to someone than sell it to him for $15.

Another person balked at the $25 price tag on a brand-new microwave.  She wanted to pay $10. I said I would go down to $15 and she hesitated.  I finally told her that if she could find a brand-new microwave for less than that she was free to look elsewhere.  Her friend convinced her to buy it.

I had to remind myself that the primary goal was not to make money, but to empty the house. I'm sure my dad would have had another heart attack if he had to watch people buying his things at such low prices. 

Still, I'm glad to have one more giant task behind me.

While I was cleaning up the house, I decided to be adventurous and pry off  small pieces of drywall to see just how bad the termite damage was in the wall studs.  There's a reason they say "ignorance is bliss".  One wall had several studs that were eaten halfway through the wood.  The other wall...well, let's just say that ashes to ashes and dust to dust would be an apt description.  The area I had exposed had an empty space where the stud was supposed to be, and a huge pile of dust at the base of where it used to connect to the floor. 

That's bad...very bad.

Every time I think about the situation, I wonder what my dad would have done when he retired and got ready to sell the house.  Probably, he would have done some superficial repairs and tried to sell it.  Although I know that he was aware of the termite issue, and was trying to battle them with do-it-yourself type treatments, I don't think he knew how bad the situation was. Without opening up the walls he wouldn't have known the extent of the problem.

I could imagine him going through the roof about it.....swearing, trying to find a cheap way to fix it himself, or letting the next owner worry about the problem. It would have seriously ruined his retirement plans and greatly upset him.

A large chunk of the money he had saved for his retirement will be used to fix the house.  That would have killed him.

I'm just grateful that he had done such a good job of preparing for his retirement, because there's no way we would have the money to make these repairs if he hadn't.

At the very least, when things are finished, the house should be in great condition and ready to sell, or rent out.

Now, I'm just recovering from my busy weekend and enjoying the first day of school after the Winter Break.  I was happy about it.  I have a long list of things I need to get done today. Intuitive Monkey, however, greeted the day with tears. While I was making the morning coffee I heard gentle whimpering.  I entered Monkey's room to find him half-dressed, sitting on the floor and crying. When I asked him what was wrong, he said he didn't want to go back to school because he didn't have fun there.  He then proceeded to sob uncontrollably, already mourning the long lost days of playing Wii, going to the park, staying up until 9:00 pm, and reading Power Pack comic books.

Life is tough for a soon-to be 7 year old.

"After School Special" moment

The Rationalist brought home a field trip form last week.  Because I'm not working this year, I was happy to offer to be a parent chaperon.  

"Oh neat, I can go with you on your field trip this year!"

awkward pause

"Do you want me to be a chaperon?"

"I don't know. Will your hair be back by then?"

"Uh....considering it's only a few weeks away, probably not. Why?"

"Well, I don't want you to go if you're bald."

"Why not?"

"It might be embarrassing. What if everyone says, 'Hey J--, your mom is bald?' What if people laugh at you?"

"What if they do?  Do you think your friends are that mean?"

"I don't know.  I just don't want them to see you bald."

"Well...I always wear a hat when I'm not at home."

"But what if it falls off, or the wind blows it off?"

"I don't think that's going to happen. Listen, if being embarrassed is the only reason you don't want me to go, that's not a good reason.  There will always be people around who can be mean and make fun of you, or anybody else, for no reason. If you don't do things just because you're afraid that someone might try and embarrass you, there will be a lot of things you'll miss out on in life."

thinking about it

"OK...you can come....just don't wear your Scottish hat.  It looks goofy."

Goofy's a little harsh....don't you think?

Why Can't I Be a Dictator?

My in-laws are celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary in a few weeks.

No big party, just a weekend with their two childrens' families.

The "supposed" gift for the 4oth is listed as "rubies".

Rubies.

Yeah, well that's not happening unless I can get my MIL some ruby lipstick, and my FIL a ruby tie.

We want do something special for them, but they are the type of people that already have everything they want and refuse to give ideas about what else they might like: "Oh...you don't have to get us anything. Just being here will be enough."

I came up with the fabulous idea that we should hire a photographer to come out and take a large family portrait of all of us together. I know that my MIL has wanted to do a casual version of this in the past, but something always went wrong, or there were always other extended family/in laws at family gatherings. And how do you tell other people you don't really want them in the family photo?

Anyway....so I have this great idea....and now I am running headlong into one of my personality quirks whereby I am annoyed when other people interject complications into a project I am working on.

Trying to include my SIL in the process, has created "discussion" that I didn't anticipate.

Debates about which photographer to use. Debates about which day to have the photos taken. Debates about whether we should tell them we are doing this. Debates about how maybe this is too complicated and we should do something else.

And I know that when I tell my MIL...it will continue the process. I will have to listen to her tell me how we shouldn't spend the money, or how she wants to pay for it, or how we shouldn't have gone to such trouble.

And I will have to bite my tongue with my in-laws, who I love very much, but who annoy me when they won't let us do a simple thing for them.

Life would be so much easier if everyone would simply do what I wanted them to without arguing about it!

:-)

A Worth-It-All Moment

After picking up the kids from school, and getting them started on their homework, I usually ask about their day.

Today The Rationalist described a race in PE between two third grade classes. He won first place for distance and time. It was some sort of timed relay in which individuals were eliminated and he was the last man standing.

That wasn't the worth-it-all moment, though I am happy for him.

The worth-it-all moment was when Intuitive Monkey looked at him and said, "That's really great, J--! Good job!"

They have become such good friends lately, not that we still don't have the occasional WWE Smackdown take place in our house, but they seem so much more cooperative.

Just this morning I heard Monkey ask The Rationalist to help him with something in his room, and instead of teasing him, The Rationalist matter-of-factly said, "Sure."

They are growing up so fast.

I can hardly believe it at times.