On Closing That Door
Filed under: Growing Pains, Mental Strain for Mama
When you have a plan in your head of what your life is going to be like, it's sometimes difficult when things don't turn out quite like you had planned. At one point in my life, I wanted to be a lawyer. I thought, at the time, that I was too busy for kids. My husband would be the stay-at-home parent and I would be the bread-winner. When my political science class didn't go as planned, I trashed that plan and only occasionally look back and wish I had that law degree. I'd never wish not to stay home with my kids though. That change to plans is one I don't ever question.
When Mr. BBM and I started our family, I set out with the intention of having three children. I didn't care if they were girls or boys. I just wanted three. Mr. BBM is one of three children and I loved the feeling of an extra sibling in the house. I grew up with just me and my sister.
But when I was a couple months pregnant with Lil C, I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. Suddenly I was regretting my decision to even have a second child. For some people, gestational diabetes isn't a big deal, but for me, I knew it could be potentially devastating.
When my Mom was pregnant with her second child, she got gestational diabetes too. Hers, however, did not go away. My Mom is a Type 1 diabetic with an insulin pump and has been for the past 30 years. Growing up, I would come home to find her unconscious sometimes, having gone into insulin shock from a very low blood sugar. She was in a serious car accident one time from another low blood sugar. The life of insulin shots and constant blood sugar monitoring was not one I wanted.
I spent my entire pregnancy fluctuating between being excited about the baby and just wanting the baby out so I could (hopefully) stop being a diabetic. Thankfully, my diabetes went away after pregnancy. I felt like I was granted a reprieve and so did my Mom.
My plans to have a third were shattered. Taking the chance of the gestational diabetes coming back and staying seemed too great. Did I really want to subject my kids to some of the things I dealt with growing up? The answer was a definite "no." My Mom, an RN, felt the same. "Don't take that chance. Don't do it" she's told me on more than one occasion.
So with plans for a third gone, the question of why I was keeping all this baby stuff kept coming up. I have a basement full of beautiful baby clothes and bassinets. Things I won't use again, but I can't seem to part with. Mr. BBM doesn't get it and just wants the stuff gone. For me, each little piece of clothing holds so many memories. They are physical pieces of my children's baby years that seem to bring me closer to that time in my life when I had a baby on my hip. Maybe it's because Mr. BBM has always worked full time and he wasn't here nearly as much as I was with them. But no matter what he thinks or feels about it, it's difficult for me to say "I'm done" and get rid of the things that represent a time I so loved.
I don't know what made me do it today, a week before Lil C turns four, I guess it was because I know she'll be getting some new clothes for her birthday and I needed to make room. Cleaning out the things from her closet that she wore in the past year didn't seem so hard. I kept a couple items that were her favorites (or mine) and put the rest in bags for her friends. She was happy to help me. I figured since that had gone so well, I'd go through some 12-18 month stuff for my neighbor, a little girl I adore.
While going through the containers, I had the hardest time. I had to keep stopping and taking a deep breath. I'd put something on the pile to give away and then decide I just couldn't do it. It was the closest thing to torture I think I've ever experienced. I did it though, and made my way through the three containers. I parted with about 40% of it and that was a huge accomplishment for me.
Because I knew that if it stayed here for one more minute, it wasn't going to happen, I immediately went down the street to deliver it. It was when my friend looked kindly at me and said, "Are you sure?" that I lost it.
I have two healthy children and came out of a scary pregnancy unscathed, but wanting another little person in your house and not being able to have it is devastating emotionally. During the day to day, when you can occupy yourself with other things, it's not a problem. But when you force yourself to go through these things and get rid of what represents what you wanted your family to be and it won't be. . . When you're taking steps that say you've accepted that you're finished with that part of your life. . . it's just really, really, hard.
Campaign Strategy
Because I definitely need another thing to do in my life, I am running for election at our country club to be on the Board of Directors. Over the course of a couple months, my realtor and I had several conversations about it and I decided to run. The Country Club is not your traditional country club. It doesn't have a golf course. It has a club house and two great pools, and there's a lot of untapped potential there. My family belonged when I was growing up and I also worked there as a lifeguard for two summers before college. It's been pretty much the same all these years, minus the addition of a second pool.
Right now there seems to be a huge divide. There are the people who have been there forever whose activities fill the montly newsletter with bus trips, fashion shows and dances to music my grandparents would appreciate. It's a wonderful social outlet for them, but it doesn't attract the younger families who join primarily for the pool in the summer. Then there are the younger families, many who live right across the street from the club (like I do); and I think I can speak for us all when I say that we wish there were more activities geared towards our demographic.
Because I think these two dichotomies can co-exist peacefully, I decided to run for election. Appointments are for three years and I've heard that it's difficult to get elected. Only members in attendance at the Sunday afternoon meeting are allowed to vote for the board members and it's difficult to get younger families out on a Sunday afternoon.
The newsletter came out this week and there was my name along with five other names. There are five open positions. Even with my realtor acting as my campaign manager and asking aquatic team families for their vote for me, as I sat at the club last night for Wing Night, I told Mr. BBM, "I'm going to lose." I just didn't think that enough people knew who I was or cared enough to come out and vote. How sad it would be if I'm the only one to NOT get elected.
And then my attitude changed.
One of my neighbors down the street, who knows a lot of people at the club, walked out of the bar area and into the dining room and told me she was excited I was running. Then a couple other people said something to me about seeing my name in the newsletter and running. Then I heard that a new friend of mine was talking about me running at a neighborhood breakfast that took place yesterday morning (Thank you A!). And let me just tell you, if this lady is talking about me, people are going to hear about me. I started to feel a little more confident about actually getting elected.
I have a little over a month until elections happen, and I've decided that I need to put in as much face time as possible at the club. I need to get to know the people who don't know me and tell them some of my ideas. If I can be the social coordinator for the dojo and throw cool parties, there's no reason why I can't extend that into a Board of Directors position.
Anyone want to join my campaign? Do you have any suggestions for me on how to get elected? Let's hear your ideas!
Holding My Own
Filed under: Fantasy Football, Mental Strain for Mama
I can't seem to get my life organized these days. We just have entirely too much going on around here. With after school activities four days a week, Saturday swim classes and enough grading to literally bury me for months, I am not managing well. Last night, I had every intention of getting in to train at the dojo and then Big I walked in the house wearing her muddy sneakers and wrecked the kitchen floor. I couldn't leave it; I have white carpet in the rest of the house. I had no choice but to mop and then my mop broke and I had to go get a new part to finish the job. By the time I was done, karate was starting. I had missed my chance.
Because I'm not finding much time for physical fitness or karate, I quit the gym yesterday. Well, I should say that I mailed my notice that I'm quitting and I'll probably have to reincarnate Johnny Cochran to get me out of my membership. I've heard they're a pain like that. Instead of paying all this money to go there, be harassed by trainers and have my kid get sick all the time from the Germ Zone, I went to Dick's, bought a step and decided I have enough equipment at home to do my workouts. And yesterday, they started.
I took Lil C on an hour long walk through my neighborhood and today, I'm breaking out my step and free weights. Lil C said she wants to work out with me. This will be much better than leaving her in the Kid Zone screaming for me. And when I have a few minutes, I can do something here instead of driving 15 minutes to get there. Plus, I'm saving some cash. When my work-outs get stale, I'm going to head over to this new personal training business and get a session or two to get some new ideas. I'm going to see how this works out. I'm hoping it does.
One area where I happen to be holding my own is over at BullsnBalls. I'm writing a fantasy football column over there and am having fun with it. I love fantasy football and am looking forward to doing nothing this weekend except watching every single game. As a writer over there, I have to make picks for college football. I'm not really knowledgeable about college football teams AT ALL. Mr. BBM was going to help me but he's been busy, so I've been picking them myself, based on "a feeling." Head over there to see how I'm doing. I'm pretty proud of myself.
Back to the Stomping Grounds
The University of Pittsburgh is not what it used to be. It has changed so very much since I was there and it made me wish I could hit "rewind" and go back in time a bit. Gone is the old Pitt stadium. Now the Panthers play at Heinz field.
Gone are the tiny band and pathetic sports teams. Now Pitt's football team is currently undefeated; their basketball team was #1 last year and the band is massive.
The student section at the game is no longer a clique-like divided up mish-mash of students. The students seem to be as one, throwing people up in the air, singing songs, painting their stomachs with "PITT" and making enough noise to seriously disrupt the plays on the field.
This is me with my awesome friend. We've been friends since 7th grade.
Thanks to my friend's company being a major sponsor of Pitt football this year, we were given a pass to the VIP tent before the game and we also got escorted onto the field for warm-ups.
That was amazing. Not only are you standing down there where the Panthers play, but the Steelers play there too. Mr. BBM was beside himself with joy. Then we were escorted to our awesome seats in the end zone.
We got to watch an awesome game where Pitt beat Navy, and the fireworks after the game too.
After the game we caught a crazy cab ride to the South Side, complete with cab commentary that made us almost die with laughter. "Can you see that with your brights?" was just one of the cabby-isms. You can do the rest with your imagination. We hung out in various places and had a blast people watching and catching up with one of our good friends from our college days and his lovely wife.
Later, we went back to our free hotel room suites and caught some much needed z's. On Sunday morning as we were heading out, Jamie Dixon appeared. He was in our hotel recruiting a basketball player for next year. I noticed him standing outside as Mr. BBM sat in the car nearby waiting for me and my friend. I told Coach Dixon that Mr. BBM was probably freaking out that he was standing right there and told him what a huge fan of Pitt football Mr. BBM happens to be. He immediately walked over to the car, shook Mr. BBM's hand and happily posed for a picture.
I don't think this weekend could have been any better!
Miles Behind: The Pressure We Put on Kids
Filed under: Growing Pains, Mental Strain for Mama
I don't talk about it often, because it's a huge embarrassment to me. When I was a Junior in high school, I hoped for a permanent spot on the Varsity field hockey team, but I didn't get it. Instead I got tons of time playing on JV where I worked hard and did a great job, but literally only seconds during many Varsity games. Sometimes those seconds came during the last 30 seconds of the game, as my coach looked back, realized she hadn't played me at all, and would throw me in for an embarrassing stint that made no sense. I think I would have preferred not to play at all.
I worked hard at field hockey, playing on weekends in my back yard and inviting my friend over to hit around with me. I wasn't the best player on the team, but I wasn't horrible either. I showed up to every practice and busted my butt, even when I really wanted to just go home and deal with an upset stomach or a super runny nose. Even when sick, I would be there.
Sometimes I think that if my parents had been at more of my games, I would have seen more playing time. But my Dad had a busy schedule at work and we rarely saw him before 6 p.m. at home each week night. My Mom was busy working too, and running my sister around to her activities. They came sometimes, but they weren't the vocal parents on the sidelines that you see today. They blended into the background, kind of the way I obviously did on the sidelines.
During a playoff game my Junior year, my coach forgot to play me at all and tried to put me in with only 30 seconds left in the game. This was the last straw for me. I already felt like she picked on me unnecessarily and I wasn't going to suffer through another embarrassing amount of playtime. I pretended I didn't hear her until it was too late to sub me in, and I made up my mind.
I was done.
Every girl knew that you had to be dressed and on the field running when she came out of the building to start practice. My friends couldn't believe what I was about to do. As she was about ready to grab her stuff and come out, she found me standing at her office door, completely dressed in my school clothes.
She started having a fit on me and asking me why I wasn't dressed. I told her it really didn't matter if I was on the field or not since she refused to allow me to contribute to the team whatsoever. She started to come back at me and yell at me, but I was done. My body shook as I firmly told her that I worked just as hard as everyone else, and that my playing time was a joke. I told her I was done, handed her my uniform, turned my back to her, and walked away as she continued to yell at me and tell me she'd try to give me more playing time in the next game. I was always respectful to my teachers and coaches, and this time was no different. But there was no way she was going to intimidate me into getting back out on the field. I was so done.
Fast forward to present day.
Big I started playing youth field hockey this fall. She's in 3rd grade and the program just started this year for 2nd graders through 6th graders. The program should be a big boost to the already very good junior high and high school field hockey programs as these kids grow up and get on those teams. Around here, if you don't start a sport by the time you reach your 1st birthday, you're pretty much screwed when it comes to future success and playing time. Soccer programs start at the age of 2. Swimming starts at the age of 6 months. If I hadn't found out about the field hockey program, can you imagine how far behind Big I would have been when she hit 7th grade?
Last week they started scrimmaging. Big I was a wreck. She was so worried about playing the right way and doing a good job. With very little actual instruction on how to play the game, the kids went out on the fields and played six on six. I thought she did a great job for having no clue what was going on. She played somewhat aggressively and I was proud of her.
However, there were two girls on the team, both her age, who were amazingly good. One of the Mom's was serving as the coach for her team as she subbed kids in and I commented about how well her daughter was playing. "Oh," she said, "Yeah well she played on a club league all last year with the other girl."
My heart sank. Wanting to spare Big I the same disappointment that I did, I signed her up for the program thinking she would be ahead or at least at the same level. Once again, we seem to have missed the boat. Clearly, if I don't want her to be warming the bench in the later years, I'm going to need to find out about club hockey, and push her to practice all the time.
The thing is, as a 3rd grader, how is it possible to know what you want to do? How is it possible to not get burnt out from a sport if you start it so very young? What if she decides she wants to play tennis four years from now? Will she get cut because she didn't start swinging a racket when she was three?
I know that sports are great for confidence building, especially with girls. But I can't help but wonder if all this youth sport business isn't setting a huge amount of kids up for major disappointment later in life.
In a couple weeks, I'll be signing Big I up for age group swim team and I'm so afraid that she's already going to be starting miles behind everyone else.
If you had as dismal a fantasy football week as I did, go check out my latest column at Bulls N Balls.
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