Butterflies

I wondered if butterflies set her stomach aflame as she waited, head dipped between arms stretched overhead.
Was she startled by the sharp tone of the buzzer, her body launching automatically into the churning blue?
Did she feel the shift in the current as her competitors tore through the water in neighboring lanes? Was she driven or intimidated by the scream of the crowd? Could she hear us cheering her name?
I wanted to ask her if she felt nervous. I wanted to know if there was any piece of this that brought out a competitive edge in her, anything that made her want to win.

But Ava is six and swimming competitively is new, competition in general, is new. What if my question scared her into an early bout of anxiety? What if my curiosity killed her growing enjoyment of the water?

Could an idea be that powerful a suggestion? I guess I’m not ready to find out.

The Magic of Coins

Just one year ago, Ethan struggled personally with his failures in baseball. Water streamed from his eyes during, just about, every game. Struck out…tears. Tagged out…tears. Someone cut in line…tears. It was hard for us to deal with. I know, he’s a little boy, but I wanted my little boy to behave more like a man. You know, take that disappointment and crush it! Arggg!!

I’m not creative.

“Oh, you’re sad; hey, listen to this lecture on overcoming.”

“Bummer that you struck out. Here’s what you did wrong.”

“Hey! There’s no crying in baseball!”

As you have probably guessed, nothing changed.

Then Lori, the coach’s wife, comes over one day and hands Ethan a little baggie of quarters. There were probably about 12 of them. She said, “I’m giving these quarters to you, but, every time you cry, you have to give me one back. At the end of the season you get to keep whatever you have left.”

Hmm…interesting. I had never thought of bribery… and it worked, like MAGIC!

At the end of the season he added eleven quarters to his piggy bank and we were all saved from an endless round of frustrated monologues.

I’ve never forgotten this magic and neither have my kids. This summer Ava joined a swim team and the practice pool was pretty cold. She was fine the first day, crying the second and third. This wasn’t shaping up to be a very good season for her, and so the magic bag of quarters made its second appearance. Her requirements were the same, hold back the tears and push past the discomfort. She has happily only lost one.

Today was Andrew’s first day of swim lessons. The pool is not bathtub warm and so he found his teeth chattering for most of the half hour. At one point he needed to use the restroom and the tears began to flow.

Enter; the magic quarters! He couldn’t wait to get his hands on that beautiful little bag of change. Only seven more lessons with no tears before those babies are fully earned.

Now, I don’t know how well they will work on my stubborn little almost 4-year old. He tends to think he can do whatever he wants. But I’m happy to let him try. I believe in the magic of coins!

Uncool Moms

I always knew the day would come when I’d regularly hear the words, “That’s not cool, mom.” Is there a more common phrase in the teenage vernacular?

Well, that time has come and it wasn’t from the mouth of my eight year old, nor was it said for any reason I had previously anticipated.

The other day Andrew burst out with an, “Oh my G--” expletive. Surprised, but keeping my cool, I asked, “What did you say?”

He happily, and matter-of-factly, repeated the offending phrase. You see, around these parts we don’t use the Lord’s name in vain and mom is not even comfortable with the substitute, “Oh my gosh.” But, the offender is only three, and being a three year old means repeating anything and everything you hear.

So, I calmly explained the rules and asked that he not use that phrase again. We’d been through this discussion with my older two kids and they were always willing to keep their language clean. This was supposed to be an easy one. Andrew, on the other hand, responded with a, “But that’s not cool!” and then became a repeat offender the very next day.

Of course, I pointed out the infraction with a more serious tone, and he responded, “No, Jacob says it’s a real word.” Jacob is his four year old baseball friend.

“Um, being a “real” word is not the issue. You may not say that word, ok?”

I got the “that’s not cool” response once again along with a stronger challenge to the rules. Wow! I’ve got a beast on my hands…a kid who questions everything, and without a natural regard for authority.

You could claim that I deserve this and I would have to agree. What is parenting if you aren’t challenged?

But on a positive note, I have finally entered the realm of the “uncool”, a milestone I am quite excited to have achieved.

Only REAL moms are UNCOOL!