Grown Up Skills I Have Yet to Master

Among other things:

1. Being gracious while feeling very hurt.
2. Understanding why people act put out and indignant (or ignore you) when you actually take them up on an offer.
3. Projecting confidence.

There are more. Lots more. But these are highlighting my week so far. And it's only Wednesday.

Sigh.

There Are Soccer Moms and Moms of Kids Who Play Soccer. I Think (Hope) I'm the Latter.

Some days I think - no, I know - I don't fit in to this town.

This morning at M's soccer game I observed several moms yelling - YELLING! - at their 9 year old sons for not making plays and for how they were guarding the goal and things like that. It wasn't pleasant to watch. I noticed, though, that the moms who were behaving like this were some of the more "popular" moms in town. Cliques do still exist, long after high school. It got me thinking a lot about the social structure around here.

I was never very good at the superficial chitchatting that goes on at soccer and baseball games. I think that comes mostly from insecurity, but I understand that it can sometimes come off as being aloof. It takes me a while to really make friends - but if we become friends, I'm fiercely loyal (my friends become friends for decades, not just short periods). I don't tolerate stupidity and cliquey behavior very well. I commit to what I believe in.

Clearly this has cost me over the years. Mostly I've been okay with that. Some days are harder than others, though. It would be nice to have more of a local social life.

It may be affecting my kids more than I realize. I don't know what to do about that. Parents not wanting to have their kids hanging around with the kids of that uppity J.

In the last two weeks I have:

• Asked people (via email) I thought were close enough acquaintances and generally reasonable people to come to the school committee meeting to see what ludicrousness abounds. I said it didn't matter which "side" you were on in terms of the start time change, seeing the tone of the audience was important, and important to try to bring back civil discourse to this town. Not one responded - and two have refused to look at me at various town activities. What the fuck, people. Yes, I still believe the time change is the right thing. It's in place and the kids are doing great with it. Really! They've all adjusted just fine. It's the parents who are still freaking out, still trying to bully the administration and the school committee and I am doing by best to stand up to that.
  

• Called out a local mom who inappropriately culled emails from a school list to advertise for a private venture - which happened to be a introduction to field hockey series for four and five year old girls (fine) called "Junior Chix with Sticks". Euw. Lets start objectifying girls really young! I knew this because I have one email account that is school stuff only. If a friend had given her an email address, I would have received it on a different account - and still would have been grossed out by the title but just plain ignored it. I've been out on enough real estate lists by people inappropriately using class email lists that I have low tolerance for it now.
  

• Had an issue with the local Girl Scouts when I emailed the mother of one of S's friends about possibly attending sign up night together. S has expressed an interest and I've tried to be open even though my Girl Scout experience was terrible (worst bullying of my life was in Girl Scouts). Imagine my surprise when I learned that S's friend's mom had been contacted in the spring about signing up by a person who said, "I want to get a troop of girls and moms I like together before regular sign-ups." I kid you not - the mom forwarded the email rather innocently (I think). After asking around a little more, I learn there's now this troop of Kindergarten Daisies that are now known as the "good" troop and a waiting list has been established for it. What the hell? That kind of excluding going on when the girls are FIVE! Contacted the local council and asked if this was an accepted practice. Never heard back. My daughter will NOT be doing Girl Scouts.

So I guess with all that, it's no wonder people don't speak to me at soccer games. But do I want to be part of that whole culture? I don't know. I do want my kids to have the option to be a part of whatever it is they want to be a part of, and that may not be possible with me as their mother, at least the way I am right now.

The idea of putting on a false smile and pretending, oh, I don't know what, makes me cringe, but I'm starting to think I may have to do that. Maybe I do have to let my daughter join Girl Scouts and pretend "Junior Chix with Sticks" is so cute and shut up about the time change and all that. Maybe I do have to become a full-fledged soccer mom instead of a mom of kids who play soccer.

I don't know.

Mean Mom

That would be me.

On Friday, M had a little fiasco with frozen limeade concentrate. He decided, for unclear reasons, to take container of frozen limeade concentrate as his cool-pak for his lunch. At some point in the afternoon, the concentrate had melted sufficiently, and the tube was punctured, creating a really big mess.

He came home, took his binder out, left it on the stairs and took the backpack and lunch bag to the basement to be washed, which they were.

All day long today I asked him to get his backpack together. At 7:45 he finally does. (Bedtime is 8:30 and he still needs a shower.) Of course, he can't find it. He expects all of us to drop everything and look for it. I refuse to.

His teacher this year is very good. She's all about personal responsibility and organization.

M is wailing, feeling sorry for himself, puttering around and sulking, not really looking. This is most definitely his responsibility, not mine - or his dad's or his brother's or his sister's. Unless he can figure out what he did with it in the next five minutes or in the morning, he'll have consequences with his teacher. I'm fine with that. He needs to learn this lesson.

I do feel bad for the kid - I do. But he needs to learn this.

Yeah, I'm a mean mom.

Conversations I Never Imagined

Soccer season started today. Sure, M was rained out, but C's game was on.

C will be taller than me within days. Seriously. He's already taller than his dad, with bigger feet.

This all means that soccer season was preceded by a trip to the sporting goods store for new soccer shorts AND new cleats.

While we were there, I asked, "C? Do you, um, need a pair of compression shorts under those soccer shorts?"

He looked at me funny. "I don't think so," he said.

Back in the car, I turned up the music so his siblings couldn't discern words well and I asked, "Do you know what compression shorts are?"

He admitted, "No."

"It's to, um, keep, um, everything.....well, secure. So, uh, certain parts of you don't bounce around too much. Because that could cause, well, kinda like bruising."

He gave me a sideways glance.

I asked, "Do you know what an athletic supporter is?" I was afraid of the answer as I'd asked my husband to have this very specific conversation with C.

C replied, "No."

"Ok, it's, um, a garment, kinda like, um, underwear, but tighter and there are just straps around your legs instead of an actual back, and it, uh, holds everything - you know - um, in place."

C looked at me with very wide eyes.

"So," I said, "when you think you need such an item of athletic equipment, please let me or Dad know." All the while hoping that person would be Dad.

I dropped C at soccer and I went home and had a beer.

Putting it in Perspective

We've been busy with start of school stuff. Today was the first day for the boys.

After several months of being deeply involved with this start time change issue, I've been as nervous for today as the kids. Apparently, in all my involvement, I wasn't communicating details well to the boys. C has been upset about the change because it will cut into his free time in the afternoon. (Interestingly, a friend has a 9th grade son is upset for the same reason - and his response is that he plans to do all his homework the moment he gets home so it's done out of the way, and he can enjoy the rest of the day. Kinda what we've been encouraging the kids to do all along...)

Last night, when trying to move C along to bed (M and S already were there) around 9:30, he and I had this exchange.

C: Why are you trying to get me to go to bed so early?

Me: So you get enough sleep. Haven't you noticed that Dad and I have been working to get you guys back to your school-year routine?

C: Yeah, but, it's still to early. Since I get to sleep later. So, you'll wake me up after you put M on the bus, right?

Me: No, I'll wake you up before we go out.

C: Why?

Me: You say you like to get up an hour before the bus. That will be an hour, if I get you up before I get M on the bus.

C: Wait. What? What time will my bus come?

Me: About 8AM, I think.

C: 8AM? What about the school start time change?

Me: That is with the school start time change?

C: I thought I'd get on the bus at, like, 8:30AM or something.

Me: Uh-uh.

C: So it's really only a 45 minute change?

Me: Yes.

C: Really?

Me: Yes, really.

C: All this time, I thought we had, like, and hour and a half difference in the time change. Only 45 minutes?

Me: Yup.

C: So why were all these people freaking out over 45 minutes?

Me: I have no idea.

C: That makes absolutely no sense.

He said it, not me.

He writes like a girl!

I listened to a great segment on this radio show this afternoon on the way home. As part of talking about anonymous online bookseller reviewers, there was one crack that such an anonymous review might say about George Eliot, "He writes like a girl!"

Beyond the piece being generally funny, I appreciated the discussion about the type of person who comments anonymously on those sites, as if they, and only they, are doing some great service, the only ones speaking truth to power, and all that. The guest, author of this book, then had this to say:

"They're like the 50,000 people at the Mets stadium screaming at Chipper Jones. They're speaking truth to power. But he's on the field getting paid, and you're in the stands screaming. He's going to Cooperstown, you're going home."

Awesome way to put it. The anonymous reviewers claim to know everything, yet they are not the ones putting themselves out there, submitting their ideas and writing to public perusal and hopefully acceptance.

It's something I hope I can remember.

The book thing is back on, and has been for a while. An outline was approved and a contract has been signed. I've found it hard to talk about; I am excited and nervous all at once. What if it's awful? What if I get hundreds of nasty reviews on that online bookseller site?

I've also been writing a heck of a lot - nearly 30,000 words thus far - and have to be rather disciplined in the evening to achieve that. And amid my regular work schedule and going on vacation. I turned in half the book on Monday (and all the publisher said was, "Thanks. We'll get back to you." After my huge push to have it ready, it felt more than a little anti-climatic). The rest is due in about 6 weeks. Amid my regular work schedule and school ramping up again.

I'm sending chapters around for various people to look at. I'm looking for moms to offer quotes (anyone? anyone?). I'm just generally overwhelmed - and I think I'm going to be happy when it's over.

A Memory

I think it was early 1979. Maybe March. I know I was in 6th grade.

My father had some business to do in Washington, D.C., though I have no idea what. He did these trips a lot, some or other meeting related to something judicial or legal (obviously).

This time Dad wanted to take me along, and after clearing it with school, I packed up my backpack and got on the plane with him.

Dad took me all over the place. He took me to the Lincoln Memorial where he recited the Gettysburg Address from memory, learned as a cadet at a Tennesse military academy decades previous. I met a couple of well-known judges - well, well-known in judicial circles; I can only remember one name of the bunch. I tagged along with my dad from meeting to meeting on Capital Hill, soaking in politics and the differences of the District from the desert I was used to.

Between two such meetings on the Hill, trudging along, I asked where we were going next. He told me, "Senator Kennedy's office."

"Senator Kennedy? Really?" I replied. I was impressed. Finally someone I had heard of! And a Kennedy!

My father, though, believing he was raising a very conservative, never-to-be-swayed-from-the-GOP kind of daughter, thought that he heard in my voice disdain. Because that's what he wanted to hear, really.

We continued on to Senator Kennedy's office and my father had his meeting with some of the Senator's staff, and, I think, the Senator's counsel (which, as I figured out this morning, might have been Stephen Breyer, a current United States Supreme Court Justice). I sat in the outer office, doing my homework. I remember it being fairly cramped. Stacks of papers everywhere. The staff was very nice to me. I tried to do my homework for the better part of an hour, but I was too excited and impressed. Eventually we left, on to another meeting.

For years, my father would recall that moment walking to Senator Kennedy's office at cocktail parties, using it as an example of what a good little Republican I was becoming. I never had the heart (or the guts) to tell him it was actually quite a different response. He wanted to think it, and I let him.

I remember some of that exchange as the first inkling that I might be different from my Dad, that I could have different political ideas.

Yesterday when we learned that Senator Kennedy had died on Tuesday, I was very sad. You didn't have to like him to see that he worked hard for what he would believe would better our country. You didn't have to be a Massachusetts Democrat to have been impacted - positively - by his legislation. Yes, he was a very flawed man and made some bad mistakes (particularly in his personal life), and I didn't like everything about him (his stance against wind power continues to perplex me, and the only letter to a senator I have ever written was to him on that topic), but he was an excellent senator, and his passing will be felt by many.

The Senator's procession is passing within a mile of my house, probably as I write this. My husband was hoping to take the kids to one of the overpasses to watch them pass and pay respects. I hope they were able to do so.

Another Mess In Town

If it's not one thing, it's another. This town needs to grow up already.

This time the coach of a very winning high school sports team has not had his contract renewed.

The big sport in our town is - well, it's the same sport as a particular team at a southern school that a few years ago had to deal with an untrue allegation of very bad behavior. Yes, the accusation was found to be untrue, but that the team was regularly acting in such a way that accusations couldn't be dismissed outright, that they could so easily have been construed as possibly being true based on other behaviors - well that kind of culture is what has developed with the high school team here playing the same sport. (And during that whole thing? Before it was ascertained as untrue? People here still 'proudly' wore team jerseys from that school. Ick.)

It really doesn't matter what the sport is. This is the kind of thing that tends to pop up around one sport or another if the team does well for a while. A totally unhealthy deification of teenagers. In fact, prior to 2001, I think it was another sport that had this issue in this town until that coach was removed for less then ethical behavior.

So anyway, this team sport. A number of state championships. Awesome. Except that the coach over the years has gotten cockier and cockier about that achievement and started acting as if he is above the rules. Lots of quid pro quo with parents. Throwing parties for the kids and supplying alcohol. Generally promoting the kind of behavior that contributed to the situation at the southern university. (I am NOT saying the team down there was to blame for the false accusation, but neither did any of the team have a track record of behaving in a dignified or respectful manner. Their mothers and grandmothers would blush at much of their behaviors, I am sure of it.) Generally speaking, when people mention that they know my town for this sports team, I grimace. Goodness knows what they have seen or heard. I do know some of the kids have been arrested but, gosh, never quite made the police log, never had charges actually filed.

Anyway, after a discipline issue with the coach a couple of years ago, the behavior only got more brazen. But the coach is a popular figure in town for all this winning, people like "heroes," and the superintendent has had her share of controversies in the last year. The superintendent, I'm certain, had enough reason to fire the guy for cause. She didn't. She gave him a gift by simply not renewing his contract, thus giving him his best opportunity to find a new job (else her reasons would have been public, and if they are the reasons I am rather certain they are, he'd never get a job coaching kids again). And given his relative popularity and those other controversies, do you think anyone in their right mind would invite this kind of additional scrutiny. Willingly? It just makes no sense. Anyway, I thought the local schools were supposed to put academics first. Silly me.

So people are up in arms. People who otherwise complain that the schools are awful and the administration is doing nothing to improve them suddenly are claiming how wonderful the schools are and the administration is ruining them, and this is a perfect example. People are throwing around words like "travesty of justice" and other ridiculousness.

But then I noticed something interesting. All the letters to the editor and other comments are either from 1) parents who don't have children in this sport at all, 2) players who graduated 4-6 years ago or 3) parents of graduated players. From what I can tell, no current players or parents are speaking up. Interesting. You think it might be because they know why the coaches contract wasn't renewed? Hmmm....

I don't envy the job of the superintendent and school committee over the next month as people bitch and moan. But I do know all of this will die down. The team may not win another championship next spring. Maybe it's time to turn the winning over to another sport in town. See you back here in 7-8 years for this issue all over again.

(Just hope the superintendent survives this and the other controversies. She's doing the right thing in every situation, but people around here are just so entitled. Sigh.)

Heartbreaking

M keeps asking to call and to see his friend P.

I keep putting him off. Making excuses.

Dead silence from A.

Scar Tissue

There's a piece in the New York Times today about scars. I read it early this morning and I've been thinking about it most of the day since, and mostly in context of C's scars from when he was sick. I love the bit in the piece about scars being "signposts of optimism."

As I've written, he's had some difficulty in accepting his scars in the past. For years he wouldn't talk about it, hid it, and the big scar had a name so he could talk about it in code. But in the last two years he's become more comfortable with his big scar and runs around at the beach and the pool shirtless regularly. I don't know if anyone has asked about it. I have noticed that - just as we told him it would - the scar has stayed the same size while he has grown (he'll be taller than me by Christmas, and I'm not short). The scar appears smaller now. Phew.

Anyway, I brought the article home for him to read. He did. He thought it was weird.

I don't know what I was expecting. He's thirteen, after all. I suspect it will hang with him a bit, and the line about optimism will percolate to the surface when he needs it. At least I hope so.

At any rate, in the accompanying Well blog piece linked to the article, there's a comment:

"I tell my children (and myself?) that if you die without any scars you haven’t really lived."

I don't know about you, but I have lots of scars.

So Wrong

Hubby and I were out to dinner last night, and decided to walk around the small town a little afterward, peering into the windows of the closed shops.

In the window of a children's shop was prominently displayed a baby onesie printed or appliqued to look like a zebra-print bikini. I kid you not.

It was so utterly tasteless and so wrong on so many levels. We became more and more disturbed the more we thought about it, even as we tried to joke around about it.

Objectification of women and s*xualization of little girls is such a problem in our culture, and that onesie took it to a new low level. Euw, a million times over. Once home, I did a Web search and found it here. The woman's other stuff looks cute, but those onesies are just beyond tacky. I'm really tempted to get in touch with that shop and say so.

I guess the only good thing I can say is that I have a renewed resolve not to put my daughter in inappropriate clothing. Not that I ever did. But still.

Ick.

Maybe Not

So as of this afternoon, I'd say that this book thing may not happen after all. That's okay.

They contacted me in early June about this, and I put together an outline. They came back with some edits and wanting more detail. I gave that to them. Today they sent me an outline that they want me to fill out that is completely different in tone from what they first said they were looking for.

I wrote back stating some concerns. There are a million and one books on pregnancy and babies and toddlers out there. Another book with topics on "nutrition and vitamins during pregnancy" - and from a non-medical professional at that - is not what any bookstore needs. I wouldn't buy such a book.

Given what they said they were looking for, I gave them an outline of the kind of book I'd want to buy (or receive). A bit more about the emotional side of things, something reassuring, slightly humorous, letting me know that while I have to go through much of parenting alone, have to do it myself, I'm not alone. That others have had these crazy, hard, wonderful, scary, intense, beautiful moments, too. How every mother reinvents the wheel every time, with every child - and how it all changes you in ways you never thought possible. Encouraging women to trust themselves and ignore the well-intended free advice they receive in abundance. Not overly sentimental, not overly snarky and rude, either.

Ambitious, I know, but broken out into tidy 2000 word essays relating to specific ages and milestones.

Anyway, I don't know if they want that after all. I don't want to write a book that says, "Make sure you take your prenatal vitamins everyday! Some women may feel slightly nauseous when they take their vitamins, so try taking them with a small meal or a piece of fruit." Gag.

I've pretty much prepared myself for the response to be "thanks, but no thanks, we'll find someone else." Or at least I think I have. It was fun (and daunting) to think about for a while there.

(For a "communication" company, the communication has been lacking - and especially for their tight writing schedule. I can go a week between hearing from them, even as they say they are rushed. And the editors and production people I've been in contact with? All in their early 20s. Seriously.)

Oh well.

You Can't Make This Stuff Up

If you are going to go to the school committee meeting and start screaming about lack of ethics and threaten legal action, you'd better be sure that your name can't be tied to leaving behind several partial cadavers (in a freezer, thankfully) in an office when the company you led went bankrupt.

Just sayin'.

A Day I Was Dreading

My sister has requested my friendship on Facebook.

God help me.

What Have I Gotten Myself Into?

I had another phone meeting with a publishing house today. We're tweaking my outline and probably going to contract stage next week. 55,000 words by mid-October. In addition to my regular job, and a few other things I have going on.

I am utterly terrified.

I was approached about a month ago about writing a book about parenting. Kind of a "what the regular parenting books won't tell you" first five years kind of thing. I got into this due to some other writing I have been doing for about a year and a half now - I didn't dream it up on my own and never entertained the thought of a book on any topic (no Great American Novel in the bottom drawer). I think it's rather laughable that I have been asked to consider writing such a book as I have no freaking clue what I am doing on the parenting thing. I have screwed up so much! Yet the kids are still alive. Go figure.

Have I mentioned that I am terrified? So terrified I can barely talk about it. My family and a couple people know about it, but I am having such a hard time actually talking to them about it.

What if I am laughed at? What if I embarrass my family? What happens if the book is panned as the WORST. BOOK. RELATED. TO. MOTHERING. EVER? Will I ever be able to show my face again? Anywhere?

Ugh.

Time, or Lack Thereof

Much happening, not much time for writing. Later.

But there were some humorous bits in the police log.

Sunday June 14

6:38 p.m. Caller reports blown transformer on fire on W______ Street. Utilities notified.

6:51 p.m. 911 call to report power out. Officer informed caller that 911 is for emergency only.

[I guess it's all in how you say it. Same issue: one thanked, the other chastised.]

Wednesday June 17

8:58 a.m. Caller reports squirrel will not let her out of home. Animal ran around side of home upon officer arrival.

[Let's review food chain basics. You, dear lady, are likely 5'4"-5'6", and over 100 pounds. The squirrel is a couple pounds, max. Humans can eat squirrels in a pinch - or regularly in certain areas of the south - and IT won't let YOU out of your house? Also, every house in the area has such a thing as a side or back door.]

High Drama

Many doing at the police station this week. The selectmen have overturned the town manager's decision not to renew the police chief's contract. We're learning that a recently elected selectman (by an extremely narrow margin) does indeed have an agenda. People are taking sides. I want to just stay out of the way.

Thursday June 4

8:15 a.m. Investigation of suspicious acts directed to gas station owners on T______ Street.

[That same guy from last week's police report, I guess. ]

2:31 p.m. Report of male party sitting on the side of the road in high grass. All okay.

[Were those last three words mixed up? Should it have been "high on grass?"]

10:02 p.m. Caller reports loud party near H_______ Landing. Officer reports noise is not a party, youths taking boat out of water.

[Those darn youths trying to take appropriate care of property! And having fun while they do it!]

Friday June 5

10:19 a.m. Caller reports motor vehicle all over the road on S_____ Street. Officer stopped operator. Out testing front end for repair. All secure.

[God forbid a resident might want to make sure their vehicle was generally safe.]

Saturday June 6

12:23 p.m. Caller reports two motor vehicles parked in front of no parking signs on P_______ Avenue.

[Such brilliance for persons attending a school graduation.]

Sunday June 7

5:27 p.m. Caller reports parents on field, child ejected from game. Request police. All parties spoken to and told to leave. Police car standing by until all parties have left the area.

[Those 3rd/4th grade baseball playoff games are getting tense!]

Tuesday June 9

6:05 p.m. Suspicious motor vehicle on T_____ Street. E-mail sent and detectives notified.

[E-mail? Really?]

Wednesday June 10

2:37 p.m. Caller on A_________ Way reports he was assaulted by his brother.

[Within a couple years, this may be my boys. Sigh.]

6:35 p.m. Caller on W________ Street reports cut off finger. Ambulance transported to hospital.

[Ouch. Apparently time to check the dismemberment table in your insurance policy.]

Someday

Someday I will tell C what an asshole he's being to me right now.

Adolescents suck.

Big Gulp

I had an interesting conversation this afternoon. With a project editor at a publishing house.

So, um, I'm writing a table of contents and a sample chapter for a book proposal.

Oh. My. God.

Not a done deal by any stretch, but it's interesting it's gotten this far.

Gulp.

A Quiet Week...

...for the police log, that is. Oh, we had the now expected animal issues - dogs, raccoons, horses, swans. The Animal Control Officer is working overtime, it seems.

The police station itself is a hot mess, however. The chief's contract is not being renewed, letters and such are being "leaked" all over the place, and there are lots of accusations going back and forth in the comments section of the town paper. Part of me is glad there is another controversy in town to deflect attention from the school start time thing (so maybe we on the implementation committee can do our job in peace!), but part of me thinks that Prozac in the water supply isn't such a bad idea. Calm down, people!

Anyway, there were just these bits that caught my eye in the police log:

Thursday May 28

12:42 p.m. Resident of C----- Street complains of speeding vehicles in the area day and night. Advised patrol of the same.

[Day and night, I tell you, day and night!]

Tuesday June 2

2:24 a.m. Suspicious person walking on C------- Street. Officer shuttled party to P------- line.

[What do you want to bet that in that town's police log there's a similar entry time stamped closer to 3:00AM? Each town's police picks up the "suspicious" person, transports him/her to the next town line....kind of effective, really, for the person trying to get somewhere.]

Wednesday June 3

11:48 a.m. Report of a male approximately 30 years old in green sedan yells swears out to owners of gas station on T------- Street every morning at approximately 8:55-9:10 a.m. Patrols notified.

[So the gas station overcharged yet another resident on a repair, it seems.]