That Kinda Info Might Have Been Useful

It's official. I'm old.

My 20-year class reunion is going on this weekend. I was unable to attend, but I hope all who did are enjoying themselves.

I was talking to an "old" friend yesterday, and we got to reminiscing about our high school years. She said she wished she could go back and tell her high school self a few things. She asked me what, if anything, I would go back and tell my teen-aged self.

Hmmm...that's a tough one for me, especially since I firmly believe that every experience I've had to this point has helped make me the person I am today. Besides, I was so hard-headed, I probably wouldn't have listened to me anyway. (Shaddap Torrie!) Anyway, there are a few concepts I might try to impart to a younger me:

• Do you! You will never please everybody, so don't even try. Be authentic to yourself, and let the chips fall where they may.
• Live in the moment. Don't worry about what happened yesterday; it's over. Don't concern yourself with tomorrow; you can't control it.
• Your thighs are fine. Everyone is not meant to be a size 3; being a size 7 does not make you fat. And even if it did, so what! There are worse things to be in this world.
• You can't control everything. There are times in life to stand your ground and times you have to be flexible. Learn the difference.

That's all I've got. It's not much, but it might have made a difference. If you could go back and talk to yourself as a teenager, what would you say?

-e

Parenting Styles Are Like Day And Knight

I've just discovered I'm out of touch as a parent.

As I was surfing earlier this week, I came across an article about whether The Dark Knight is too violent for children. In it, one woman says she regrets taking her 11- and 14-year-old kids to see the movie because it was not appropriate for children. Another guy said he would not have taken his 12-year-old son had he known how violent the film was.

Now, after reading the article and the posted comments that ensued, I was immediately defensive. Why? Because I took my soon-to-be-10-year-old daughter to this movie on opening day. We enjoyed it. We even had a discussion of the film (the acting, the plot, the action scenes, etc.) on the way home from the theater. It never occurred to me that what we had just seen might be too "dark" for her.

So the folks in the article (and some of the comments) must be overreacting, right?

Well, maybe not completely.

Because then I spoke to my pal Joe. He and his family had also made an outing last Friday to see the film. He went with his wife, his mother, his daughter, and his niece who is visiting for the summer. Apparently, his 6-year-old niece has been having nightmares about The Joker ever since. But how could this be? My child didn't have nightmares, and Joe's own daughter (who is 8 years old) has been sleeping well also. Could it be the age difference? No. The parents in the article had children older than ours.

And then it hit me: it's because of the way our children were raised.

I nursed my daughter while watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel,and Charmed. And, later, when she was sick and miserable in the middle of the night, she snuggled next to me and watched Interview with the Vampire and The Craft. At the age of 3, she was sitting through (and comprehending) The Fellowship of the Ring and quoting lines from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.

So a criminally insane comic book villain is just par for the entertainment course as far as our kids are concerned. No nightmares. No trauma. Their only reaction was some very astute character analyses and appreciation for a very good motion picture.

Apparently, most children are not being raised in this way. Joe's niece certainly wasn't. That's why The Joker (and Heath Ledger is excellent in the role) gave her nightmares. And the parents in the article must not be the kind of people who read comics or go to sci-fi conventions. Because, after all, if you ever read The Dark Knight series comic books, you already knew this wasn't your garden variety superhero story. And they just thought it was going to be like Batman. Imagine that!

-e

Oh Where, Oh Where Has My Mojo Gone?

For those of you that don't know, I have a scrapbooking store in my house. Not a real retail establishment, but I have enough supplies that I could probably open one.

I've got more time on my hands than ever.

And, as you know, I take a zillion pictures. (I'm trying to whittle that down, though, 'cause my kid says I have a problem.)

So I really have absolutely no excuse for not scrapbooking. Yeah, my scrap space could use a little more organization, but that's not unusual. Besides, I've cranked out pages in the midst of more chaos than I've got now.

I just haven't been motivated lately. And I can't figure out why. I've been collecting mags and sketches, and still nothing.

But do you know what I am motivated to do? Buy more supplies. How crazy is that? I've had to seriously restrain myself from adding to my collection. Because, at this point, that's all it is: a collection of supplies. I've resolved not to buy any more supplies until I start using what I've got. Unless, of course, it's a really great deal. :)

-e

Where Good Intentions Go Wrong

People mean well.

I know it, and I appreciate it. But it's very annoying sometimes.

Most of my friends are kind-hearted people. I get that. I really do. And being the kind-hearted people they are, most have invited my daughter and me to participate in whatever 4th of July festivities they are planning. And I really do appreciate it. I love them for it.

The problem is simple: I don't feel like celebrating the 4th of July.

Is this some political statement? A Chuck D style boycott about the freedom of my people? A quiet protest of this country's foreign policy?

No. It's much simpler than that.

My father passed away last year on the 4th of July, and I just don't feel like celebrating. Period.

Sounds simple, doesn't it? But it's just my luck to live in a country full of amateur psychologists. I blame Oprah and Phil.

People say they understand my feelings. Then they try to convince me that what I really need to do is get out among the masses. As if lighting sparklers or playing spades or endless banter about the NBA's ridiculous one-year-of-college rule will magically make me feel better. (Sorry, Mr. Stern. I had to get that out.) As if being around people will change the fact that, in effect, they are gathering to celebrate the very day I lost my dad.

Now, if they had real psychology degrees they would understand that people have to grieve in their own way. This is mine. No one has a healthier understanding of death than I do. I just don't like being around people when I'm feeling this way. And, trust me, I'm really no fun right now. They wouldn't want me bringing down their celebration anyway. Everything about this "holiday" reminds me of the day my father died.

So let it go. No more lectures about what my father would have wanted me to do. No more castigations on the necessity of being around friends during this time. No more advice on how to deal. I'm not staying in bed for a month, and I'm not pondering suicide. I'm simply passing up some parties to shed some very personal tears by myself.

In time I might get to a place where I can enjoy a good cookout on the 4th of July. But it's not likely to happen this year. Let me assure you--your BBQ ribs will not be safe from me on Labor Day.

Back To The Future Please!

I don't drive a De Lorean, but I feel like I've somehow been transported back to the 1950's or something. I haven't seen any poodle skirts, and there's definitely hip hop on the radio, but the things that come out of folks' mouths around here are all the proof I need.

I've been having the following conversation a lot recently. The other person (OP) is a composite of many people:

Me: I gotta go. My kid has football practice this evening.
OP: She's playing football this year?
Me: Yep.
OP: Why?
Me: Because she wants to.
OP: What team?
Me: A local Pop Warner team. The team seems solid. They've been champs a few times.
OP: And they have a girls' team?
Me: Uh, no.
OP: So she's going to be playing with boys?
Me: Uh, yeah.
OP: Is it flag football?
Me: Nope. Tackle.
OP: And you're letting her play?
Me: Uh, yeah.
OP: Has she been tackled yet?
Me: No. They're doing a skills and agility camp right now. It's kinda like spring training. There's no contact until closer to the actual season.
OP: Well...she'll quit the first time she gets tackled.
Me: Ha! You obviously don't know my kid very well. The whole reason she wants to play is to tackle someone.
OP: You're not afraid she'll get hurt?
Me: Not really. She's not fragile.
OP: Are you sure you're not making her play?
Me: Entirely her decision. I don't care whether she plays or not.
OP: But she's a girl.
Me: I know this. I changed her diapers.

Now, don't get me wrong. I had expected a few folks to balk at her playing football. I'm not naive. I know that old prejudices die hard, and little girls playing tackle football is not something you see every day. But, come on. It's not like she's the first girl to ever play the game. It's Pop Warner, not the NFL. I mean, girls have been participating in Punt, Pass & Kick competitions for as long as I can remember. And my nephew, who plays high school football, says there's a girl playing on his school's team. (This is not the first time I've heard of girls participating in Texas high school football since I graduated. I seem to remember a lawsuit...) In fact, Detroit has its own female professional football team. (No, Joe, I'm not talking about the Lions.) And, although they got eliminated in a playoff game three days ago, the Detroit Demolition have managed to win four championships over the past several years (only one since joining the IWFL in 2006...they lost in the championship game that year but won it last year). The Detroit Lions, meanwhile, are perennial bottom-feeders who want to charge you a small fortune to watch them lose. They might try recruiting some players from the Demolition. They couldn't possibly be any worse. But I'm not one to gossip, so you didn't hear that from me. LOL

And on the subject of injury. Why is it that people are so concerned girls will get hurt playing football? I mean, hello? Have you seen competitive cheerleading these days? Or gymnastics? Both are infinitely more dangerous than football. I ought to know. I used to play tackle football regularly when I was her age. Only I played on the front lawn without pads with my brother and his friends, all of whom were older than me. I never sustained a single injury. By contrast, I can't even tell you how many sprains, strains, and pains I've gotten from cheerleading and gymnastics because there have been so many. If you think getting tackled hurts, try taking a header off the balance beam or the high bar, or crashing onto the asphalt when a partner stunt or pyramid goes wrong. My daughter did try cheerleading last year (and hated it), and strangely nobody questioned whether I was afraid she'd hurt herself then.

But, I digress.

By far, the most ridiculous conversations I've had on the subject have gone something like this:

OP: I don't think you should let her play football.
Me: Why not?
OP: Because she's a girl.
Me: So?
OP: So you don't want to make her gay or something.
Me: You sound like a fool.
OP: I'm serious.
Me: You can't possibly be serious, because that would make you an idiot.
OP: Well, it could happen if you keep letting her do boy stuff.
Me: Boy stuff? What does that even mean anyway?
OP: If you let her act like a boy, she'll grow up thinking she's one.
Me: And that fantasy would come crashing down the moment she got her period.
OP: Be serious!
Me: I am. And here's a newsflash for you: whether or not she is gay was more than likely already determined before she ever took a breath in this world. I doubt letting her play football at the age of 10 will have any bearing on her sexuality one way or another.
OP: You could turn her gay if you're not careful.
Me: That's ridiculous. And, even if it were true, there are worse things she could be.
OP: Oh yeah? Like what?
Me: Like intolerant. Like ignorant. Like afraid to try things because she seeks approval from the insignificant masses that don't contribute one iota to her worth as a person. Like an idiot. Like you.

Okay. So you see where that discussion always ends up. But I'm still quite baffled. This is, after all, the year 2008. Or is it? I mean, are we really still having the whole nature vs. nurture discussion as it relates to human sexuality? Apparently so. And I've found that out. There are still people out there who think that if put my child in frilly dresses and buy her baby dolls, this somehow guarantees that she'll be heterosexual. Whatever. I hate to break it to you, but science has proven time and again that this is not the case. (Not that it's important, although I might as well note it here, but I've known my kid is firmly heterosexual since she was about nine months old. But even if she wasn't, I'd love her anyway.)

But, there is hope. While a couple of the coaches were caught by surprise when a girl showed up to camp, they seem to be fine with her participation. And, although many are amused by her presence, they have all embraced the opportunity to teach her the fundamentals of the game. (I can tell some of them don't quite know what to make of her yet, but that is perfectly understandable.) And most of the boys don't seem to mind having her on the field. Sure, a few have made comments to her. But most of them seem fine with it, if they notice her at all. At her last practice, one little boy's father seemed surprised to see her leaving the huddle:

Man: Are you playing football this year, young lady?
G: (calmly) Yes.
Man: (enthusiastically) Good for you, young lady! Show these boys how it's done!

And on that note, I've gotta go. Cause I think I've spotted Doc Brown, and he's the only one that can fix the flux capacitor in my Malibu...