Stuff to Rock Your World.

The Taming of the Shrews

I just can't help myself - while there are probably more important things to write about like world affairs, social responsibility and other heady matters like my friends are so good at, lately I feel compelled to share my parenting stories...

Which brings me to the latest...My youngest daughter Gina is a junior in high school and is on the water polo team. You gotta realize that Tamalpais High in Mill Valley is not known for its strength in sports. In fact, while the youth at this school have won national Mock Trial championships and regularly win at the State level, athletics...well, pretty much suck! I spent recent years in the football bleachers with other desperate parents, watching defeat upon defeat as my son doggedly pursued one measly touchdown - let alone a victory! But I digress...

So Tam High is not a sports school. Got it. So what coach in his or her right mind would ever want to work at such a place?! I really can't say because I have never really had the opportunity to know any of them for any length of time to be able to eek out the question. In the sports my kids have been involved with in high school, it's pretty much been a revolving door.

It's been especially painful watching these poor coaches try to work with high school girls. Picture this: twenty or so teens, all talking at the same time, giggling, gossiping, and basically being catty towards each other, seeing pool time as a time to visit and catch up. Meanwhile, on deck, this poor coach is trying to get them to do drills. You get the picture. As I said, revolving door.

Enter Coach Brandon Williams, Tam's new water polo coach. I have not yet met this guy as school has only been in session one week, but from what I can see, he is definitely different. Clearly, he wants to win. And clearly, he seems to know what it takes to win. From what I can see, he's starting with a regimen. 

And he is setting out to tame the shrews.

6 am practice 5 days a week. (Today the girls had to do some pretty intense exercises...you try doing lunges up and down the gym...12 times back and forth, and you can see how Gina tonight is unable to climb a flight of stairs!)

7:45-9:45 pm pool practice on most nights, with one night a week being another "dryland" practice for strength training.

Most important for his tenure's success, he has instituted "Shut-The-Hell-Up-Week" where if the girls speak, he adds up the syllables uttered, and anything totaling over 10 syllables - for the entire group during an entire two hour practice - results in major practice punishment - sprints and the like at the end of an already grueling day of practice. 

Gina tells me that she has never been to a practice where there was virtually no word uttered, but this actually happened last night. Today, she can barely walk, but she plans on being back for more abuse first thing tomorrow morning at 6am.

Sometimes, all it takes is one person with vision to build a program. Who knows, maybe this coach will build something great for the school, achievements that all kids can be proud of.

He certainly started on the right foot. Before you can win, you must tame the shrews. 

Stay tuned. We'll see how goes the season!

--C.L.C.

The Keeper of My Children's Cat...

When your kids are young and you give them a pet, you never really contemplate what'll happen when they grow up, leave for school or their own life, and leave the pet behind. Dogs usually have a shorter life span, so maybe there isn't as great a chance that they will survive long enough to experience the exodus. But cats are entirely different. They live long, long lives.

Enter Rudy. My oldest daughter Laura's 18-lb orange tabby.

This cat is 10 years old, quite overweight, and with a very large personality that matches his girth.

He lived his early years curled up and spilling out of a box on her desk as she did her homework. He scratched and bit to make sure everyone knew his lion-like ambitions and that he was on top. He was definitely Laura's cat. Then Laura left for college.

So Rudy moved on to become my son Patrick's cat. He lived on his bed or on backpacks or stacks of papers - any least comfortable spot, Rudy would curl. He still randomly bit - only to find out that Patrick would not quite tolerate it the same way Laura did, so Rudy would find himself drop-kicked across the room. But Rudy would relentlessly come right back - needy as he was for attention, on his own terms, of course. Then Patrick left for college. 

So Rudy moved on to become my youngest daughter Gina's cat. He moved in to her room, slept on her bed and other very uncomfortable places. He stopped the biting, as he probably figured that he had established his place in the household (and maybe Patrick's training helped a bit as well). Then Gina left for an extended summer vacation.

Suddenly the children's quarters were empty. 

So Rudy bit the bullet and moved on to become my cat. He chose to move upstairs - once-foreign territory has now become hallowed ground. He follows me everywhere. Sleeps by my side. Curls up in my computer case - of course the most uncomfortable spot he can find. Lies down in front of the keyboard as I am trying to work. Waits outside the tub as I take a shower. And lies on the bathroom counter as I get dressed.

I now realize that I have become the keeper of my children's cat. I tolerate his grooming in the middle of the night, his paw seeking out my hand to give him pets, his walking on my keyboard as I type, his yowls screaming for attention. 

Rudy is teaching me some great life lessons: the need for humility to know that it's okay to be at the bottom of the totem pole - I guess I'm better than nothing; and the need for adaptability for what life throws at you - if something changes, make do and find happiness regardless.

It's also comforting to know that as soon as the kids are in the house, he's back downstairs, waking them up in the middle of the night.

--C.L.C.

 

On His Own...Kinda

My son Patrick was home from school for a short week, and yesterday headed back down south for summer school. While he was here, we went shopping at IKEA so that I could help set him up with the essentials that he would need in his first off-campus apartment. Desk. Chair. Silverware. Plates. Glassware. Pots. Pans. Bed. Sheets. Mattress. Yes, don't forget the mattress. You got it...just about any essentials that are readily available at IKEA. Of course we started the spree with IKEA's world-famous meatballs, after which we ran around the store, diligently writing down items with those fandagled Scandinavian names.

Two full carts later, and we proceeded to the checkout stand, where we both agreed it would be fun to self-check ourselves out. Some of the items were large, starting with the blasted mattress that was big, bulky and rolled up like a sausage. We dealt with that first. Bleep, the scanner scanned, and we promptly set it aside. The rest was inventoried, the plastic card quickly flipped out, and we were outta there.

Next, I took him grocery shopping. What kind of Italian mother would I be without procuring at least the basic goods for my son's kitchen? As we wandered the aisles, I questioned his culinary desires, and threw in the basics he would need in his kitchen. Pepper. Salt (iodized, of course). Pasta. Canned tomatoes. BBQ sauce. Captain Crunch. Okay, you get the picture. Not really Jaques Pepin's kitchen, but give the guy a break - it's his first foray in to the world of do-it-yourself cooking.

He slept in on Sunday, and Dan woke him up by floating a slice of bacon under his nose. He just opened his mouth and ate it, while still keeping his eyes tightly shut. We urged him to pack the car, which he proceeded to do, so he could hit the road at a decent hour. As I walked by the car he stopped me.

"Um, mom...What happened to the mattress?"

"Crap! The mattress! The $229 mattress! Damn...Did we leave it there? Did we forget to load it in the car?!" I quickly ran in the house to peruse the photographs I took as we were loading like the maniac that I am - everything needs historical documentation...Sure enough - there was the stuff, about to be loaded, but no mattress! We forgot to load the mattress on to the cart after we paid.

Well, the poor kid had to drive back to IKEA, armed with the receipt...and after a while the customer service rep came out - sure enough, they reviewed the security cameras, and there were two morons, paying for cartloads of stuff, only to walk away without the most expensive item - the mattress! He stuffed it in the back of the car, and off he went.

Tonight came the first call...from the grocery store where he was shopping for the "perishable" food and for dinner. Some of my favorite quotes:

"Mom, what kind of meat should I cook that's not expensive?"

"Gee, this grocery store in Isla Vista is really annoying because it doesn't have the good type of food...It only has food for people who don't like to cook!"

"...they don't even sell chicken thighs!" ("Go check out the poultry section in the meat department...,' say I) "Oh, here they are!"

"How about saltimbocca, how do you make them?" ("You know, veal is really expensive," say I) "Forget the veal, I'm not buying no stinkin' veal!"

"I can't find the frozen ground turkey you use in tacos..." ("Ground beef works just fine for tacos," say I)

Needless to say, he got his bundle of ideas and hung up. He said he'll call me later. No word yet on how the first supper turned out. 

We've all been there. Done that. Taking the first steps to independence. Kinda.

--C.L.C.

A Courageous Man

Today is Father's Day, and in my life there is a hero whom we'll be celebrating in my house: a step-father. Being a step-parent must be one of the most challenging roles a human being can choose. It is one thing to father your own children, and then raise them. It is an entirely different challenge to raise someone else's. 

Dan has done this for my three children. He willingly accepted to be the educator, the disciplinarian, the friend, the surrogate father, knowing that it was not his "genetic material" that he was helping to raise. He had to put up with the moods, the attitudes, the challenges that any parent is faced with, but with the added burden of fighting those inevitable feelings that come from dealing with someone else's kids...The inevitable feelings of being somehow "on the outside looking in..."

Being a step-parent can't possibly be easy, but there are also rewards that are priceless because being a part of raising a family, even if not physically yours, means being able to participate in all the wonders that only children can provide.

Happy Father's Day, Dan - with love, admiration, gratitude and utter respect for the hard work and devotion you've given to Laura, Patrick and Gina.

--C.L.C.

Juice to Gin

I just got back from packing up my son from his first year at UCSB and moving him out of the dorm. The evening we got down to Santa Barbara, we went to the beach to enjoy the waning sun. Of course, we had to celebrate the end of the most difficult of the college years - that first major shift in young adulthood. As we poured the gin and tonics in to the multi-colored plastic tupperware cups, my son observed that these were the same cups from which he used to drink juice as a child.

The years from juice to gin fly by in a dizzying hurry. At first they creep, as we endure endless, sleepless nights caring for a helpless baby. They pick up speed as the child begins to walk, to explore his surroundings and become more independent. Then he begins school. 

Year follows year - one grade melting in to another. Before you know it, you've crossed milestones - elementary school turns in to middle school, hormones begin to kick in, and friends become ever more relevant. You move from project to project, test to test, and you lend constant support to help him live within your boundaries - pulling the reins when those boundaries are crossed. 

Suddenly, he is in high school...He is ever more independent. You suffer through his sports, celebrating the wins and consoling the losses. You teach him to drive. You follow the first romance. You coach him along, hoping for the best possible grades so that he can get in to a good college...And then the college acceptances arrive, and you know that his future is opening up for him. Then comes graduation - another milestone that moves him in to adulthood. He then leaves home for the great adventure called university. A place of higher learning. And you cry because while you are so proud of his accomplishments and the person he's become, you grieve because life as you have known it is now no longer.

You now hope that the values you have taught are a part of him and that he has a foundation upon which to build a life. You follow his progress, you lend whatever support you can when the going gets tough, and you hope and pray that he comes out unscathed.

You suddenly see his passions take shape. His thoughts about the world, the universe, space and matter. You listen and watch in wonder. And you see an appetite for knowledge. You see an adult taking shape right in front of your eyes.

We celebrated those years from juice to gin on the beach, and toasted to a young man's completion of his first year in his higher educational journey towards a destination that can only be but success.

We're so proud of you, Patrick!

--C.L.C.

 

Happy Birthday, Gina Bina!

16 years ago today you were born - huge baby that you were, all 9.5 lbs of you...I know that from wherever your spirit came, it was determined to manifest itself upon this earth, come hell or high water. That feisty, joyful spirit revealed itself on that fateful day, and it has stayed with you since. I am blessed that your spirit chose me to mother it while on this earth...You brighten my life, you lift my heart, and you drive me nuts as my clone, all in one magical bundle of wonder. You have enriched my life and for that I am grateful. Today is your day, Beanster and this post's for you...I love you very much!!

--Mom

You Have Talent, Dammit!

My youngest daughter just finished the Marin County Athletic League swimming championship meet and she did quite well considering...Considering what, you may ask?! Well, considering that she hates swimming (so she says) and really did a half-ass job of training during the season, she was great. She placed 18th out of 78 girls in the 50 free (and hence competed in the finals) and her 4x50 free relay team shaved a good 10 seconds off their best time and are going to the North Coast Section meet next week.

  

Imagine if she had really tried! 

So it brings me to the point of this post: why is youth wasted on the young?! Good grief - if only she could realize that she has a natural gift for swimming, and that with a bit of effort she would really bump up her performance, and possibly be one of the top ten swimmers in the league. I guess she may see it in retrospect...or maybe seeing these kinds of results, she may get inspired to crank it up a few notches. As parents we prod and we try to motivate, a difficult balance of part cattle poke and part gentle persuasion. In the end, we hope that the collective result is a positive, well-adapted human being, who knows her gifts and is able to leverage them for her own good. 

I love you, Beanster...Now just figure out that you have talent, dammit, and nurture it!! --C.L.C.