What happens when you have an 8 year old boy/soccer enthusiast raised by a 43rd mom/musical theatre officionado?
I'll tell you what happens.
1) You have a young boy who does his physical warm-ups and counts them off by half measures "1-2, 1-2, 1-2". And,
2) You have a mom who asks her son how he "felt about his audition...I mean try-out"?
We're living a boundary-crossing, metaphor-mixing, filled-with-possibility life!
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Feminist Sensibility versus Soccer Mom Competitor
Feminist Sensibility and Soccer Mom Competitor are engaged in an epic battle within me.
I am a feminist. Shatter the glass ceiling. Sports for young girls. Fight gender stereotypes. All of that.
So, a recent conversation between my son and his teammate on their way to a scrimmage against a "girls team" caused me concern. "I can't believe we have to play a giiiirrrls team", Gabe said. Daniel replied, "I know!". Gabe then did his imitation of girls "Oh, we are so BFF's", he said in a high-pitched voice. Finally, one of them said somberly, "How embarrassing if we lose".
Wouldn't you know my son's team played the best I've ever seen!
Now, my son struggles to play as well as he can on the field. He is good. He has lots of potential. He's not as aggressive as necessary for competitive soccer [the level of 8 year old play these days is a conversation for another day]. As single mom, I worry that he missing out on the day-to-day male influence that fosters competition and aggressiveness (Soccer Mom Competitor up by one).
This morning on the way to soccer, Soccer Mom Competitor pulled further ahead in the competition against Feminist Sensibility. I talked Gabe up as fullback..."no one can score against #32", I declared in my best announcer voice. I turned to trash talk against his opponent. Harkening back to the scrimmage, I said "The Cougars are girls". He said, "really?". I replied, they are "girls on the inside".
Gabe played well. He had my voice encouraging him to be aggressive and tough on the sidelines. With minutes left in the game, Gabe's team was ahead 5-1. Gabe got the ball away from his own goal, but incurred a penalty on the way...a penalty that led to a direct kick on goal by his opponent. That's not a light penalty. That's bad.
And do you know what my immediate and audible response was? I said "I don't care about that!". I only cared that he'd aggressively and successful played as defender. She shoots! She scores! Soccer Mom Competitor wins!!!!!!
I am a feminist. Shatter the glass ceiling. Sports for young girls. Fight gender stereotypes. All of that.
So, a recent conversation between my son and his teammate on their way to a scrimmage against a "girls team" caused me concern. "I can't believe we have to play a giiiirrrls team", Gabe said. Daniel replied, "I know!". Gabe then did his imitation of girls "Oh, we are so BFF's", he said in a high-pitched voice. Finally, one of them said somberly, "How embarrassing if we lose".
Wouldn't you know my son's team played the best I've ever seen!
Now, my son struggles to play as well as he can on the field. He is good. He has lots of potential. He's not as aggressive as necessary for competitive soccer [the level of 8 year old play these days is a conversation for another day]. As single mom, I worry that he missing out on the day-to-day male influence that fosters competition and aggressiveness (Soccer Mom Competitor up by one).
This morning on the way to soccer, Soccer Mom Competitor pulled further ahead in the competition against Feminist Sensibility. I talked Gabe up as fullback..."no one can score against #32", I declared in my best announcer voice. I turned to trash talk against his opponent. Harkening back to the scrimmage, I said "The Cougars are girls". He said, "really?". I replied, they are "girls on the inside".
Gabe played well. He had my voice encouraging him to be aggressive and tough on the sidelines. With minutes left in the game, Gabe's team was ahead 5-1. Gabe got the ball away from his own goal, but incurred a penalty on the way...a penalty that led to a direct kick on goal by his opponent. That's not a light penalty. That's bad.
And do you know what my immediate and audible response was? I said "I don't care about that!". I only cared that he'd aggressively and successful played as defender. She shoots! She scores! Soccer Mom Competitor wins!!!!!!
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Connections
My son and I returned from California Friday, and missed our late night connection from Philadelphia to Harrisburg. Because we have wonderful friends who live 15 minutes from the Philly airport, our missed flight led to a night of good conversation, a great night's sleep, and buttermilk pancakes before our Saturday afternoon rescheduled flight. Others, of course, weren't so lucky.
The airline agent endured loud, testy, and ultimately ineffectual protests from passengers on four departed connections. As my 8 year old and I walked away, we heard one young woman yell "NO F-ING WAY....I'M GETTING MARRIED TOMORROW!!" Gabe said, "she said a bad word" to which I replied "yes, honey, she is very upset". And he simply said, "I don't blame her...marriage is important".I smiled and said warmly..."yes sweet pea, marriage is very important".
I count Gabe's pronouncement a victory, a moment where hope triumphs over experience. Of course, his father and I separated and divorced when Gabe was a preschooler. Gabe's father is now remarried with a new baby. And two weeks ago, I introduced Gabe to the reality that mommy has a boyfriend. Gabe's questions and observations since my disclosure have included that Craig, too, "split up" [Gabe's term] with his wife. We also talked about how his kids live with "both their mommy and daddy", to which Gabe said "just like me". Sadly, my son's world is filled with divorce...including his mommy/daddy, one set of grandparents, an uncle, and many of his elementary school peers.
I conversed with our Philly hosts, incidentally a single dad and his significant other, about how kids today take it in stride when they and their peers have two homes and/or step and half siblings. It saddens us that divorce is so prevalent; yet, we are comforted that our kids are not alone in their split family experience.In a world in which marriage seems fragile at best and outdated at worst, I count it a good day in which Gabe recognizes that marriage is important.
And, I trust that the young woman made it to her wedding.
The airline agent endured loud, testy, and ultimately ineffectual protests from passengers on four departed connections. As my 8 year old and I walked away, we heard one young woman yell "NO F-ING WAY....I'M GETTING MARRIED TOMORROW!!" Gabe said, "she said a bad word" to which I replied "yes, honey, she is very upset". And he simply said, "I don't blame her...marriage is important".I smiled and said warmly..."yes sweet pea, marriage is very important".
I count Gabe's pronouncement a victory, a moment where hope triumphs over experience. Of course, his father and I separated and divorced when Gabe was a preschooler. Gabe's father is now remarried with a new baby. And two weeks ago, I introduced Gabe to the reality that mommy has a boyfriend. Gabe's questions and observations since my disclosure have included that Craig, too, "split up" [Gabe's term] with his wife. We also talked about how his kids live with "both their mommy and daddy", to which Gabe said "just like me". Sadly, my son's world is filled with divorce...including his mommy/daddy, one set of grandparents, an uncle, and many of his elementary school peers.
I conversed with our Philly hosts, incidentally a single dad and his significant other, about how kids today take it in stride when they and their peers have two homes and/or step and half siblings. It saddens us that divorce is so prevalent; yet, we are comforted that our kids are not alone in their split family experience.In a world in which marriage seems fragile at best and outdated at worst, I count it a good day in which Gabe recognizes that marriage is important.
And, I trust that the young woman made it to her wedding.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Lessons amidst the death of a parent
My father died on May 20th. It is still surreal. We had a lovely memorial service at his alma mater [and mine] Occidental College. Family and friends shared good memories of dad at a place Dad loved. Having a parent die is difficult; it suddenly catapults you into adulthood in new ways. In the days following his death, there was little time to grieve but there was much to do. Inform family. Get a flight to California. Plan a memorial. Write a eulogy. Order hors d'oeurves. Inform friends. Plan a burial. Write an obituary. At the reception following the memorial, a friend whose lost both her parents warned me..."this is weird. you are grieving, but you are the host of the party". She was so right. Amidst decorating tables, greeting family and friends, and communicating with catering, I sometimes looked to dad's photo's amidst the flowers to remind myself why we were there. It wasn't until everyone left...once there was a lull in my responsibilities, that I was able to feel the loss and cry.
I learned the point of flowers amidst a death too. Somewhere I got the idea that a grieving family would prefer something other than flowers, something that lasts or doesn't have to be carried. In actuality, the flowers that arrived for the memorial meant a lot. I didn't mind carrying them at all, and it didn't matter one iota that they'd be temporal. When one person who brought flowers to the memorial took them with her when she left [yes, very odd], I was thinking like "hey, those are for us...". When I got on a plane to return home, I couldn't take the flowers with me. I was suddenly home without any visual reminder that I'd experienced a loss. I felt the gap and told a friend, who thankfully came through with a lovely bouquet. Flowers are not a burden. They are, perhaps, alongside sympathy cards, an opportunity to sort of sit shiva, a period of time the grieved is given just to be sad. Slowly the flowers and cards that sit prominently on my kitchen table and mantle will come down. That will be a sign that I'm ready to move to the next phase of grief. In the meantime, I will let them remind me to care for myself amidst loss. And, when a friend loses someone in the future, I will send flowers.
I learned the point of flowers amidst a death too. Somewhere I got the idea that a grieving family would prefer something other than flowers, something that lasts or doesn't have to be carried. In actuality, the flowers that arrived for the memorial meant a lot. I didn't mind carrying them at all, and it didn't matter one iota that they'd be temporal. When one person who brought flowers to the memorial took them with her when she left [yes, very odd], I was thinking like "hey, those are for us...". When I got on a plane to return home, I couldn't take the flowers with me. I was suddenly home without any visual reminder that I'd experienced a loss. I felt the gap and told a friend, who thankfully came through with a lovely bouquet. Flowers are not a burden. They are, perhaps, alongside sympathy cards, an opportunity to sort of sit shiva, a period of time the grieved is given just to be sad. Slowly the flowers and cards that sit prominently on my kitchen table and mantle will come down. That will be a sign that I'm ready to move to the next phase of grief. In the meantime, I will let them remind me to care for myself amidst loss. And, when a friend loses someone in the future, I will send flowers.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
My Son's Platform
The joys of the evening ritual.
After a story from the Bible and a chapter from The Magic TreeHouse, Gabe and I always enjoy a bit of conversation after lights out. Two nights ago, Gabe expressed his wish to have a "million dollars". Of course, I'm trying to do motherhood for social change, so I asked him what he would do with a million dollars fully expecting to educate him about using our gifts and finances to helps others. To my chagrin, Gabe said he'd spend it on " healthcare".
And then I hear a story from Gabe's babysitter....she was driving him home from soccer when she suddenly experienced a vibrant scent from the back seat. Gabe had gotten into her hand sanitizer, and was rubbing his hands together vigorously. When she asked what he was doing, he responded incredulously, "Well I don't want to get the Swine Flu!".
Where does he get this stuff? His dad and I recognize that Gabe takes everything in....even when he appears to be distracted, it becomes obvious that he stays attentive to surrounding conversation. Apparently, he's gotten the message that healthcare is an issue...so maybe it's good that kids are exposed to the issues of the world at an early age.
Of course, we have to take the good with the bad. Our evening ritual last night taught me that. After our Bible Story and a Magic Tree House chapter, Gabe again asked God for a "million bucks.......in cash". As if I hadn't quite gotten the message that consumerism has also impacted his young consciousness, he clarified for God that he also "accepts credit or debit".
After a story from the Bible and a chapter from The Magic TreeHouse, Gabe and I always enjoy a bit of conversation after lights out. Two nights ago, Gabe expressed his wish to have a "million dollars". Of course, I'm trying to do motherhood for social change, so I asked him what he would do with a million dollars fully expecting to educate him about using our gifts and finances to helps others. To my chagrin, Gabe said he'd spend it on " healthcare".
And then I hear a story from Gabe's babysitter....she was driving him home from soccer when she suddenly experienced a vibrant scent from the back seat. Gabe had gotten into her hand sanitizer, and was rubbing his hands together vigorously. When she asked what he was doing, he responded incredulously, "Well I don't want to get the Swine Flu!".
Where does he get this stuff? His dad and I recognize that Gabe takes everything in....even when he appears to be distracted, it becomes obvious that he stays attentive to surrounding conversation. Apparently, he's gotten the message that healthcare is an issue...so maybe it's good that kids are exposed to the issues of the world at an early age.
Of course, we have to take the good with the bad. Our evening ritual last night taught me that. After our Bible Story and a Magic Tree House chapter, Gabe again asked God for a "million bucks.......in cash". As if I hadn't quite gotten the message that consumerism has also impacted his young consciousness, he clarified for God that he also "accepts credit or debit".
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Our Lord has written the promise of the resurrection, not in books alone, but in every leaf in spring-time. Martin Luther, Theologian
Our sermon this morning was on John 11:17-27; Pastor Dalton observed that this passage is about "Practicing Resurrection". Jesus raises Lazarus, in spite of Martha's objection that the timing is too late. Resurrection is beyond time and beyond space; it is about a person, Jesus. Resurrection is greater than death. Poverty, divorce, addiction, job loss....each of these is a death of sorts, but the resurrection is stronger than death.
I only have to look at my own life and the lives of those I know well to see the truth of the resurrection. The love of Jesus and the love of community have seen me through more than a few "deaths". The realization that I survived and, in some moments, thrive amidst these losses is testament to the power of resurrection.
As we celebrate the Resurrection of our Lord, alongside the books and nature that Luther observed, may we also see the love of community and the resilience of the human spirit as witness to promise of our Lord's resurrection.
Where have you seen witness to the promise of the Resurrection?
Our sermon this morning was on John 11:17-27; Pastor Dalton observed that this passage is about "Practicing Resurrection". Jesus raises Lazarus, in spite of Martha's objection that the timing is too late. Resurrection is beyond time and beyond space; it is about a person, Jesus. Resurrection is greater than death. Poverty, divorce, addiction, job loss....each of these is a death of sorts, but the resurrection is stronger than death.
I only have to look at my own life and the lives of those I know well to see the truth of the resurrection. The love of Jesus and the love of community have seen me through more than a few "deaths". The realization that I survived and, in some moments, thrive amidst these losses is testament to the power of resurrection.
As we celebrate the Resurrection of our Lord, alongside the books and nature that Luther observed, may we also see the love of community and the resilience of the human spirit as witness to promise of our Lord's resurrection.
Where have you seen witness to the promise of the Resurrection?
Friday, April 10, 2009
Tolstoy and Privilege
Tolstoy's search for the "meaning of life" is chronicled in his A Confession. He seeks answers from the "experimental sciences" and the realm of philosophy, only to find them wanting. He analyzes the ways that those in his social circle - wealthy, educated - have responded to the quest for meaning; again, he comes up wanting. Tolstoy's quest turns a corner when he opens his eyes beyond his social circle and realizes that his circle does not reflect the "whole of humanity" and that in his blindness, he has missed out on a crucial path to realizing life's meaning.
Tolstoy reflects, "It seems so strange to me now, so utterly incomprehensible, that in my reasoning of life I could have overlooked the life of humanity that surrounded me on all sides and that I could have been so ridiculously mistaken as to think that my life, and the life of Solomon and Schopenhauer, was the true, normal life, while the lives of millions was not worthy of attention".
Tolstoy's narrative reflects the danger of unrecognized social and economic privilege, a blindness to the whole of experience. Typically, we consider privilege in terms of recognizing questions of justice, particularly as it applies to notions of race and gender. Tolstoy broadens the implications of privilege to matters of faith and meaning; and, as Tolstoy asserts, "Without faith, it is impossible to live".
The question of privilege is not, then, a late 20th century question of the social sciences. Rather, it is one with broad implications for the humanities. How does privilege blind us in our quest for answers to the "big questions"?
Tolstoy reflects, "It seems so strange to me now, so utterly incomprehensible, that in my reasoning of life I could have overlooked the life of humanity that surrounded me on all sides and that I could have been so ridiculously mistaken as to think that my life, and the life of Solomon and Schopenhauer, was the true, normal life, while the lives of millions was not worthy of attention".
Tolstoy's narrative reflects the danger of unrecognized social and economic privilege, a blindness to the whole of experience. Typically, we consider privilege in terms of recognizing questions of justice, particularly as it applies to notions of race and gender. Tolstoy broadens the implications of privilege to matters of faith and meaning; and, as Tolstoy asserts, "Without faith, it is impossible to live".
The question of privilege is not, then, a late 20th century question of the social sciences. Rather, it is one with broad implications for the humanities. How does privilege blind us in our quest for answers to the "big questions"?
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