I'm No Dance Mom, But...

I'm not the type of mom that feels like she needs to live vicariously through her kids.  My parents gave me lots of opportunities growing up, so I had my own time on the court, field, stage, etc.  However,  when my girls (led by Coach Spicy Chicken) earned the opportunity to play in the Virginia Basketball Academy 5/6 Grade Girls Championship game on the University Hall court this weekend, I may have gone a little 'Dance Moms' about it. In all of my years of competition, I never played in a championship, let alone one on a big court like that.

I'm writing about this not to brag about my girls (while I am extremely proud of their efforts, there were only 4 teams in their league so they had a 50% chance of making it...) but rather because I thought the whole experience was so cool.  Actually, I'm pretty sure I thought it was cooler than the girls did, but they're young, what do they know?

I say that sarcastically, of course, but the truth of the matter is that they really don't know how lucky they are.  Most young players never get the chance to play on the floor of the University Hall court with the blue and orange under their feet, lights shining all around them, a real announcer calling their names, Eminem playing at timeouts, complete strangers cheering them on, a former hoopster placing ribbons around their necks.... 

I never did. Until today.  It was awesome.  Oh wait, I didn't actually play, did I? 

Don't worry - I didn't do anything too idiotic (unless you count yelling "Come on ref, you gotta call that - she's hacking my baby!" that one time...).  I did, however, Tweet and post on Facebook about how proud I was of them a little more than they would have liked.  Oh well, there's nothing wrong with being proud, is there?

They ended up losing the game by 4 points, but in my mind the experience itself was worth it.  While the odds that either will find herself playing across the street at John Paul Jones Area some day are pretty slim, it's fun for them to get a little taste of it and dream that it might happen some day.  And in the event that it doesn't, at least she has the memory of playing under the lights that one day in 2013...

Best Ever

If you have had the pleasure of raising a 12-year-old girl you can probably understand when I say I feel as if I have lost both my daughter and my mind recently.  Somehow, over the past year my sweet, adoring, happy-go-lucky little girl has all but disappeared, and left in her place is an angry, hostile person I hardly recognize.  

I admit I am being a little dramatic (there's a lot of that drama thing going on around here lately), but there is a lot of truth to it, too. The general consensus among my friends is that sixth grade, twelve-year-old girls are, well, from hell.  Don't get me wrong - M has her moments. When she is on she is fabulous. She has the best sense of humor, does great in school and has tons of friends who adore her. The problem is that we don't get to see her in "ON" mode very often lately.

So that is why I was completely taken aback when she said this to me yesterday out of the blue:

"Know how you're bummed that you haven't lost any weight lately, Mom? You shouldn't be because muscle weighs more than fat and you're super muscular."

I know it doesn't sound like much, but when most of what you've heard lately have been things like "You're the kind mom that nobody wants!" and "I hate you!" you take what you can get. And really, "super muscular"? I'll take that from anyone any day!

Bookworm

On our fifteen minute drive to soccer practice the other day M pulled out and book and started reading.  "Am I that boring?"  I asked her jokingly.  "No. I'm just really into this book right now mom. You know how I am."

And I do. M has had a book in her hands since they were large enough to hold one. At any given time her backpack will be filled with three - maybe more - that she is currently reading, and her nightstand will be piled high with current, pending and completed reads. She loves reading so much that a few months ago when in a puberty-driven hormonal rage she found herself using a few choice words to let me know exactly how she felt about me her punishment wasn't to take away her iPod, computer or television time like most kids, but rather her books. She was devastated. And yes, I thought to myself "I cannot believe I am doing this".

While the voracious reader in her is definitely inherited from my mom and sister, M and I definitely find common ground in literature. When making a list of our current favorite books yesterday, for example, we overlapped on three different books including The Help, The Hunger Games (which I started reading only to make sure it was okay for her and then couldn't put down) and Little Bee (which I read for a third time after she decided she wanted to read it).  I too find myself reading more than one book at a time. Right now, for instance, I'm in the middle of five different books, most of which you will find in my suitcase-sized, Mary Poppin-likes purse (I've tried to downsize several times but always wind up back with my Big Buddha). 

But while M's choices are largely based on what her best friends are reading, the New York Times Best Seller List and whatever Auntie Paula has recently suggested, my choices are more based on the season, my job and my exercise of choice at the moment.  

For instance, here is what I am currently reading: 

Train Like a Mother, Dimity McDowell and Sarah Shea Bowen, (follow-up to Run Like a Mother)

My six-week hiatus from running while the stress fracture healed has come and gone. It's time to get back out there.  These women know their stuff.  They're funny, strong and REAL.  They've created an entire movement around their writing.  Totally inspiring.

Balancing in High Heels, Eileen Rendahl

I'm of the school of thought that summer reading should not require too much brain power. Okay, so it's not quite summer yet, but close enough for me. Though this isn't nearly as witty as the last Rendahl book I read, it's at least kept me mildly entertained while waiting for soccer practice to end and I am still curious to see how it ends.

Why My Third Husband Will Be a Dog, Lisa Scottoline 

I came across this book while searching for a different one and bought it because it looked funny.  I was right. Her writing style in this book is similar to mine, although she usually writes murder mysteries.  A lot of great anecdotes to life in general, and as I've said a million times before - I love to laugh. 

Fifty Shades of Grey, E L James 

So I haven't actually had the nerve to crack this one open yet.  Not sure if I'm quite ready for the "marked improvement" in my sex life that I keep hearing I will have...

The New Rules of Marketing and PR, David Meerman Scott

A far cry from 50 Shades of Grey, but all play and no work makes Amy poor and unable to buy great new summer shoes!

So, now you know what I'm carrying around in that suitcase-purse of mine.  I probably don't have a pen or a stick of gum if you need it, but I will have something entertaining to read if you're in the market for that (and I usually have at least 3 not-quite-right shades of lipstick).  

And when you see M walking down the road with a backpack that weighs more than she does don't blame the school system - blame JK Rowling - she's currently re-reading books 4 and 5 of the Harry Potter series!