Brave

7 months ago, I finally relented and signed Julia up for gymnastics classes at the gym closest to our house.  One night a week, 50 minutes.  After a few weeks she attended a birthday party at the gym for a neighbor, and the coach for the party approached me and said Julia didn’t belong in the beginner class and would I bring Julia to her intermediate class?  Once a week, an hour and a half.  No problem – I was thrilled that someone other than me recognized that Julia was ready for more.  Two weeks after starting the new class, the coach approached me about the Xcel team.  3 days a week, two hours a day.  Holy cow.

Now, you have to realize, Julia was loving every last second in the gym.  She was progressing and begging for more time in the gym.  Even though three days a week sounded like a lot, I knew she would love it.  The clincher was, she’d be competing.  Mention the word “competition” and my girl sort of shrunk into herself.  When she played soccer last year, she loved soccer practice.  Games, not so much.  When we talked about her moving up to Xcel she was extremely uncertain about the competitive aspect.  Her coaches and I assured her that it would be ok – that it was a performance just like the dance recitals she’d done.  We tiptoed around the word “competition,” replacing it with the word “performance” for the first few months of practices. 

Then, she started to use the word.  And her routines starting coming together.  She’d made friends on the team, and most of them hadn’t competed the previous year so she wasn’t alone in her anxiety, and they were all there to support each other.  As the first competition got closer, she expressed only excitement about it. 

This last week, Julia was sick and missed the Wednesday night practice.  Friday morning, I received an email letting me know that one of the things Julia missed Wednesday night was an announcement from Coach Mariah that she was leaving the team to start nursing school.  My heart sank.  Not only is Julia extremely attached to both of her coaches, she’s also the kid who is completely thrown by having a sub at school, so I knew this wasn’t going to go well.  I let her coach know that I wouldn’t have a chance to talk to Julia before gym, and could she take a moment to talk to her so she didn’t hear it from one of the other girls.

When we got home from gymnastics Friday night, she fell apart.  She’d done a great job of holding it together at gym, but when she finally settled, the tears came.  The combination of the nervousness and losing her coach came out.  We talked for a half hour and she seemed to settle. 

This morning, she was back to being excited about things.  She got dressed, gave me a thumbs up in her photo by the fireplace, and off we went to the gym.  As I started the car, I asked her what song she wanted to hear.

“Brave,” she says, without hesitation.  It took all I had not to cry.  We cranked up Sara Bareilles’ “Brave” and sang at the top of our lungs.  Next she wanted to hear our current favorite car song, “Mama’s Broken Heart” by Miranda Lambert.  And just like that, the beginnings of a pre-competition routine was born.

We got out of the car and as we walked up to the gym she said, “I have butterflies in my stomach.”  I said, “Well, that’s ok, it means you care.  And you know what’s interesting about butterflies is one wave of your hand and they’re gone.”  We got inside and she took off with her friends.  After her floor routine, the first event, she cried.  She’d done really, really well.  But I think the adrenaline hit her and she wasn’t sure how to process it.  She sailed through the other events, even taking a fall off the beam in stride like a pro. 

After it was over, because she was starving, and trying to figure out how to deal with what she was feeling – having been so scared of something and making it through – that she was a major bear.  She was so emotional.  I let her pick where to go for lunch and promised ice cream afterwards.  She slowly relaxed.  She refused to take off her newly purchased sweatshirt sporting her gym’s logo and name all day long.  She was hooked, she just didn’t know quite how to deal with all of the emotions.  It will take some time for her to figure out that being scared comes hand in hand with the pride she feels at the end of doing the very thing she’s scared about. 

But she has so much to be proud of herself for.  And I’m so proud of her for getting out there and doing it.  I know she’ll be nervous again come January, especially since it won’t be in her gym.  I’ve already decided we’ll take a little field trip just so she can see what the inside of the gym looks like because it’s local to us.  But for now, I’m going to encourage her just to remember what a brave girl she is. 

Walk With Me

(Written Thursday Night)

When 1st grade started, the kids and I developed a routine that included me walking them to their lineup spots on the playground, waiting for the bell to ring while they played, then alternating which of them I walked with to their classroom.  I was one of many 1st grade parents who continued this pattern all throughout the school year.  The kids would fight over which day belonged to whom, so much that we started including whose day it was on our morning task board.  Often the teachers showed up separated by enough time that I could walk one of them to class with time enough to turn around and meet up with the other’s class.  It meant not getting to work until 8:30 and only getting a half an hour for lunch instead of an hour so that I could leave by 5pm, but the extra time I got with the kids in the morning, and even the extra socializing I did with the other parents definitely made it worth it.

When 2nd grade started, Julia told me the second week of school that she didn’t want me to walk her to class any longer.  She told me this in the car on the way home from gymnastics, which was good because I instantly had tears in my eyes.  I walked in the house and Heidi was cooking dinner, and I tried to shake it off, because I didn’t want Julia to know that I was upset about it – because I know this is the natural progression of things.  I didn’t want her to feel badly for wanting to have a little more independence.  Of course I couldn’t hide it and Heidi did say something but I made it clear that it was ok she wanted to walk without me.

Two days later, it was her turn again, and she had changed her mind.  She wanted me to walk with her.  I checked and double checked with her to make sure SHE wanted it, and wasn’t just saying it for my sake.

The past few weeks, the pattern has been just like 1st grade, alternating who gets walked each day.  Yesterday I prepped them that today I couldn’t walk with either of them, because I had an early meeting and needed to get to the office so that I could make the meeting on time.  This wasn’t a new thing, it happened more than once last year, too, so they were fine with it.

This morning, as I do, I reminded them that I wasn’t going to be able to walk with them.  Julia asked if we could do “curb” dropoff (instead of me parking across from the school and walking them to the playground gate).  I said that it would depend on how bad the car line was when we got there.

“I feel really proud when we do curb dropoff.  I feel…taller!”  Julia says as she’s finishing her bowl of cereal.  I take this in as I finish making their lunches.

We loaded up the car and I pulled around to the school to find the car line relatively small so I pulled in and right up in front of the gate.  Julia says, “SO EXCITING!!” and she leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek.  “Off you go,” I say, and as I turn around I see that Nate’s lower lip is starting to quiver.  “What’s wrong, buddy?”  He’s silent.  Julia says “I think he’s sad.”  I realize what’s going on and ask him if he wants me to walk him to the playground.  He nods wordlessly.  I tell Julia to go on ahead and close the car door and I pulled into a spot in the parking lot.  He holds my hand as I walk him to the gate and I start to give him a hug there only to realize he’s holding onto me fairly tightly.  So I walk him a bit further onto the school grounds and say my goodbyes from the playground and make sure before I leave that I catch sight of J (on the monkey bars, of course) before I hurry to my car.

It struck me, as I was driving to my office, how as hard as this age is for me as their mom it must be 10 times harder for them.  I want them to stay my babies – to be little and need me and want me around.  But I also want them to learn to be independent, and figure out that they have control over their environment and that they can be proud of their independence.  I understand intellectually that this is part of their development, even when watching it makes my heart ache.  Can you imagine, though, how confusing it must be to want your mommy but not want her?  And to not understand how to express that?  I was really proud of Julia for being able to tell me that it makes her feel proud to not have me walk her to class – it showed a really strong sense of emotional self-awareness that I’ve watched really develop since the start of summer this year.

I wish I could say honestly that when they ask me to walk with them, that I do it for them.  The reality is, they’re more than capable of being dropped off at the curb and running in to be with their friends.  I’m the one holding on to this vestige of dependence.  I can argue that I do it because I get very little time with them during the week and walking with them gives me 10 more minutes with each of them the days that I do it.  But if I’m really being truthful, I want to say, “Walk with me.  Please.  Stop growing so fast.  Walk with ME.”

I’m struggling a lot this year with their growing independence.  And I know I should revel in it, and I know I should be proud of us as parents that they are confident enough (most of the time) to push their own boundaries knowing all the while we will be here to catch them if they need it.  I am so very proud of them, and grateful that we are raising them to be strong individuals.  But at the end of the day, when Julia wants to sit on my lap or hold my hand as we walk down the stairs, or when Nathan sits next to one of us with his arms around us on the couch – I want to simply freeze the moment and breathe it in.  I want to make those seconds a part of the fabric of who I am so that when they're teenagers and they slam doors and yell “FINE!” and tell me I don’t understand what it’s like, I can reach for those moments and remember.

Tonight I’ll go in and set each of their alarms for school tomorrow, kiss them each on the forehead, and make sure they’re warm enough.  We’ll get up in the morning and once again we’ll eat breakfast, make lunches, and argue about how slowly they’re getting ready.  We’ll load up the car with backpacks and they’ll buckle into their big kid booster seats, and I’ll park across from school.

And I’ll think, “Walk with me.”

Brothers in Baseball

My son is a sports nut.  As I write this, he’s literally watching college softball and watching the ESPN ticker announcing the results of each MLB game that pops up.  He’s been known to watch college cricket, simply because it’s on ESPN. 

He started Little League when he was 3.  We lived one town over and their Little League program had a t-ball age group for the 4 year olds called “Mites.”  And because Nate turned 4 before the end of April (barely), he was eligible.  He played two seasons while we lived there, and then we moved.  I was bummed that he was going to have to start over with kids he didn’t know, but he makes friends easily so we didn’t think he’d have much trouble.

Last year, he started in what’s called Single A “coach pitch” which is really coach loading the machine and hitting the button for the machine to pitch to the kids.  We didn’t know anyone around here on his team, but he quickly made friends with a little guy named Ryan.  Just as quickly, we made friends with Ryan’s parents and Julia and Ryan’s little sister Gracie would hang out during games.  Ryan and Nate are a grade apart (Ryan’s a second grader) but they’re pretty much inseparable at baseball. 

This year, Ryan and Nate requested that they be on the same team, and as luck would have it, last year’s coach got to keep about half of last year’s team together as many of us kept our kids in Single A for another year.  So you can imagine how thrilled Nate was when he and Ryan found themselves as “Ironbirds” again.

About a third of the way into the season, we’re discovering that Nate and Ryan not only are really good friends, but they work really well together on the ball field.  They have made some pretty great outs, whether they’re playing shortstop and second base, or in today’s case, third base and catcher.  They both have an instinct for the game – knowing where the ball should go even if they haven’t quite gotten the execution down.  I hope they will be able to stay on the same team as the years go on, because I’d hate to see what happens if they have to compete AGAINST each other rather than with each other. 

At last night’s game, Nate had a rough at-bat.  Our friend Paul said he thought maybe Nate’s bat was too heavy, so I went around to the dugout to see if he had a lighter one in his bag.  Ryan’s mom said Ryan’s bat was lighter, and Nate could try using it.  He got up to bat, and launched the first pitch he got clear into the outfield.  Now, Ryan isn’t a fan of the other kids using his bat, because kids tend not to take care of things that aren’t theirs as well as they should, but he had no problem with Nate using his bat.  And today, after Nate slid into home, Ryan came from the far end of the dugout to high “10” Nate on the field.  They never fail to be there for each other, whether it’s to cheer each other on or to give a pat on the back after a rough out.

I’m loving watching Nate grow as a baseball player, but I’m also loving watching him create what I hope will be lasting friendships bound by a love of the game.  It’s humbling to watch my child create relationships outside of our family, because I see them as reflections of the things we’ve hopefully instilled in him all this time. 

This morning, as we were talking about last night’s game, and Nate using Ryan’s bat again, Nate said, “Me and Ryan, we’re like brothers in baseball.”

Brothers in baseball.  I’m not sure there’s any cooler thing for a kid to be.

Almost 7

Dear Nate the Great,

You’re going to be 7. In exactly a week. I don’t understand how any of this happened. One second you were starting mini little league at 3 and now you’re taking batting lessons and reciting baseball stats.

You’re quite an amazing little boy, in my opinion. You’re so sweet and sensitive and such a kind-hearted boy. You are so smart, too smart, that we don’t know quite what to do with you. Your teacher is doing a great job trying to keep you engaged but you have me worried how we’re going to keep up with you here pretty soon. You’re doing multiplication and reading well beyond grade level, and you continually surprise me with your grasp of things that you really shouldn’t be yet.

You’re current obsession (other than sports of course) is Harry Potter. We are in the middle of the third book and almost every other comment you make is repeating something from one of the books and a lot of your “what if” scenarios are HP related, as in “What if I was a wizard?” It’s so much fun to have something that you and your sister are both excited about and I love reliving the books through your eyes.

You just finished your second season of basketball where you had an absolute blast. You struggled a little emotionally with the times when things didn’t go the way you wanted, but after a little mid-season pep talk between you and I, things got so much better. Now you’re in the first half of your 5th little league season (if you count the summer ball league you played) and it’s incredible how much your skills have improved. You’re hitting off the pitching machine fairly regularly, and you’ve made some great plays on defense. You still like to initiate the ESPN replay after every play you make, which probably will stop being funny at some point but right now it’s hysterical.

I’m so proud of you my little man. You’re growing into such a good kid. This year you had your first bout with teasing at school as well as a little girl asking for you to give her the answers on a math test. You handled both very well, and I probably was more upset by these episodes than you seemed to be. Your sister can be sort of relentless with you, and you’ve hit your limit with her more than once this year, but for the most part even she can’t force you not to be the sweet kid that you are. The other day we were sitting down to read another chapter of Harry Potter and while we were waiting for Sissy you said to me, “Mommy, everybody loves you. Even the dogs love you.” And my heart melted. This morning I wrapped my arms around you after I’d walked you to class and you looked up at me with your lips pursed for a kiss. I know you wanting me to kiss you in front of your classmates will abruptly end sooner than I’d like it to, so I just want you to know for the record that it makes me feel really good that you don’t care yet that mommy kisses you goodbye.

We got some really good news for you at your last parent-teacher conference. Your teacher has been selected to pilot a program called “looping” which means that you and all your classmates will be with her in the same room for 2nd grade next year. Since we love your teacher and you have a great set of classmates, this was in and of itself fantastic news. But given the intense amount of anxiety you experienced the last three weeks of summer last year worrying about who your teacher would be and who your classmates would be and where your class would be, this new plan means we won’t be worrying about ANY of that come the new school year.

It’s really difficult for me to explain how much I love you. Watching you play baseball or basketball, listening to you talk about Harry Potter or whatever else you’re reading, having “what if” conversations with you, listening to you sing at the top of your lungs to Justin Bieber or One Direction or Glee, everything you are and are becoming just makes me so happy to be your mommy.

It blows my mind that you’ve gone from this:

…to this:

Thank you for choosing us. I love you more and more every day, and I’m so excited to know what comes next for you. Never ever doubt that we love you more than words and that no matter what you do, who you love, or where you go, you will always be our baby boy.

Happy almost 7th.

*********************

Dear Jujubee,

One day I was holding a 5 ½ pound baby in my arms and the next you were yelling “watch me!” as you swung from the monkey bars on the playground. One day you were barely saying your ABC’s and the next you were reading Harry Potter aloud all by yourself.

You’re a pistol, little one. You’re going to be keeping us on our toes for many years to come. You push all the limits you can, and then you turn around and yell “Mama!” and jump up in my arms and snuggle me so hard I can barely breathe.

You played your first season of soccer this year – your first sport ever. And even though you could really care less about sports, you seemed to have a fantastic time. And near the end of the season you all of a sudden exploded with understanding of what was expected of you, and had an amazing last game. You can’t seem to really decide what sort of activities you want to be in, hemming and hawing at everything. You love to sing and act, but the thought of being on stage seems to make you freeze. I think we’re going to try gymnastics again, since you seem to love doing cartwheels and handstands all over the house.

You seem to love Harry Potter almost as much as your brother, although you are content to read other things like Judy Blume. You love to draw and color and just about everything “girly.” Your room in the new house is as pink as pink can be, and you asked for “fairies and unicorns” and got exactly what you asked for.

You’ve struggled a bit with figuring out this crazy world of girl friendships. You often come across as a stubborn, strong girl but dealing with other girls can be so hard. I was so proud of you when we sat down and talked to you about treating other girls with respect, even if you aren’t friends with them, and you really seemed to take it to heart. Navigating those waters is going to be hard for a long time, babygirl, and I hope you always know you can talk to us about it.

You’re so bright and vibrant and full of life. I have to admit I’m loving your current phase of being overly attached to me, because I know it won’t last long. This year you’ve lost a bunch of teeth, and even though I worry your faith in the magic things of childhood is waning, you’re on board for the tooth fairy.

Little J, I have a hard time explaining to you the hold you have on my heart. You can drive me insane and bring me great joy all in the matter of 15 seconds. One of my favorite things to do is surprise you by picking you up from school, and watching you come flying out of the classroom into my arms makes me so happy just to have the privilege of being your mom.

From this:

Though she be but little…

To This:

…she is fierce!

I love you, Julia. You’re my mini-me and best girl. I adore every fun and infuriating minute with you.

Happy soon-to-be 7th.

Danann Tyler

Meet Danann. 

Please take the 51 seconds to meet her in this video first before reading ahead. 

Danann is the sweet daughter of a high school friend of mine.  She’s 9.  If you watch all the clips about Danann you’ll learn that at the age of 4 she was so depressed and despondent living as a boy she threw herself in front of a car.  Think about this for a second.  A four year old child was suicidal.  Can you imagine the amount of pain and heartache she must have been feeling at that time?  This wasn’t a case of mommy and daddy wouldn’t give her a toy she wanted, this wasn’t a temper tantrum over an outfit, this was clinical and serious.

Danann was born a boy.  In her own words, she knew as early as 2 years old that she was supposed to be a girl.  That her outside didn’t match her inside, and the incongruity she was living with every day, even at that young age, was the cause of more emotional turmoil than most of us experience in our lifetime.  Danann is transgender. 

Let’s back up a little bit.  What is transgender?  According to the American Psychological Association, “Transgender is an umbrella term for persons whose gender identity, gender expression, or behavior does not conform to that typically associated with the sex to which they were assigned at birth.” (http://www.apa.org/topics/sexuality/transgender.aspx) Being transgender doesn’t mean a person is gay, although they can be.  Being gay doesn’t make someone transgender.  At a basic level, being transgender is a state of identity in which a person’s brain is wired for one gender, and a person’s genitalia are wired for another.  Transgender is not the same as cross-dressing. 

This is a very real, very documented state of being.  There have been transgender figures throughout history and you can easily find the research and information by using amazon and google.  That’s not what this post is about. 

This post is about Danann and her acceptance in society as her true self.  We all want to be seen for who we really are.  Regardless of what our individual struggles are, we want people to see us, our authentic selves, and we do our very best every day to present our authentic selves to the world around us.  Danann’s parents were advised from a medical professional that it was in Danann’s best interest to let her present as female much earlier than many transgender kids because of the extreme distress that she was experiencing in being forced to live as a male.  Almost immediately, Danann’s parents could see the difference in their child.  She became happy and engaged in the world around her.  The sparkle came back into her eyes.  And who can blame her?  All you have to do is watch that video up there to see what a joy her presence is in the world. 

One of the things Danann wanted to do was be a Girl Scout.  As we all know, the Girl Scouts preach inclusiveness and diversity in ways the boy scouts never have.  The Girl Scouts would be a perfect place for Danann.  That is, until the CEO of the local girl scouts in Danann’s conservative California county caught wind of Danann’s appearance on Ricki Lake.  Girl Scouts of Orange County, through the CEO, informed Danann’s mother that Danann could not be a full-fledged girl scout.  She could be an “independent” Girl Scout, who would be allowed to go on field trips but not participate in troop meetings or earn badges.  The CEO felt it was her duty to inform other parents in the troop that Danann wasn’t a “real” girl, and told her mother that this was all her fault for their activism in raising awareness about transgender children.  This sort of “separate but equal” treatment of Danann is unacceptable.

Now, lest you think that all Girl Scout councils are created equal, they are not.  A transgender girl in Colorado was allowed to join her local troop.  When Danann’s mother brought this information to the Orange County organization, she was told that all states are different.  So if you are a transgender girl living in Colorado, you have access to the Girl Scouts and everything they provide, but if you’re a transgender girl living in Orange County, California, you’re out of luck.

Let’s be clear.  A 9 year old girl is being denied the opportunity to participate in Girl Scouts because she is different from the other girls.  The Girl Scouts of America publishes a document entitled “The Architecture of Inclusion,” and nowhere in the document does it say that this inclusiveness of the Girl Scouts does not extend to transgender girls.  When you tell a transgender girl that she isn’t a “real” girl, you are perpetuating the myth that she is just playing dress-up, that what she is feeling and dealing with isn't real.  You are telling her she isn’t worthy of being seen as her true self. That she is less than.

40% of transgender adults admit to having attempted suicide.  The same rate in the general population is 1.6%.  Let that sink in.  In a world where kids and adults would rather DIE than live as someone who they are not, don’t you think we have a responsibility to understand these kids?  Don’t you think we have a duty to include them in the walks of life they want to participate in?  Why do we cheer when a girl wants to be on the football or the wrestling team, but we can’t wrap our minds around a little girl wanting to be a girl scout like all of her friends?  Because that’s all this is.  A little girl, who is bright, and erudite, and just happens to have been born in the wrong body, wants to contribute to the world by being a Girl Scout.  What’s so wrong about that?

I want to believe that once the National Girl Scout organization catches wind of this, things will change.  And that’s why I’m posting this.  To get the word out and to hope that someone who can do something for Danann, and all the other girls like her, will read it and take action.

The Girl Scout Law says:

I will do my best to be

honest and fair,

friendly and helpful,

considerate and caring,

courageous and strong, and

responsible for what I say and do,

and to

respect myself and others,

respect authority,

use resources wisely,

make the world a better place, and

be a sister to every Girl Scout.

Honesty.  Fairness.  Respect.  Courage.  I don’t know of another girl who more exemplifies these traits than Danann. 

With or without the Girl Scouts, you make the world a better place, Danann.  If only the rest of us could make the world a better place for you to be, we’d be a lot better off.

If you’re interested in emailing or calling the Girl Scouts of Orange County, the contact information for them can be found here:  http://www.girlscoutsoc.org/who-we-are/staff-directory.