Rocky Mountain Moms Blog

Silicon Valley Moms Group Acquired By Technorati Media

2010-11-16T01:10:46-08:00

Reports of our demise, as the saying goes, were premature. The Silicon Valley Moms Group of sister sites is taking up residence in a new location. Look for that great timely, opinionated, poignant, and sometimes just plain funny parenting content you're used to seeing on this site over at The Women's Channel at Technorati. After 6 great years of blogging here, we've moved to a new home.

Fondly,

Jill Asher, Beth Blecherman & Tekla Nee

Co-Founders, Silicon Valley Moms Group

Running Again, Running With A Little Help From Some Online Friends...

2010-06-28T05:00:00-07:00

Just this month I started running, again. Again, being the keyword. For me running meets a need, which is working out on a regular basis (well, that's my goal). The beauty of running is that I can walk out the door and start my work out. I don't need a gym membership, I don't need to drive across town wasting time just to get to the gym. Out the door and go! The ugly side of running is that I am easily self defeated.

Running is one of my biggest mental obstacles. Quite often when I hit the trail, I find myself playing into the mind game that running has become for me. I tell myself, just get to the next tree, to the telephone pole, to the driveway past the intersection, to the bench, to the sculpture. Run, run, run, no keep going, run! Just last week I felt like I had a turning point in my running after two weeks of very consistent training. It felt good, I didn't have to coax myself into getting to the next thing. I just ran, with ease. Now let me clarify with ease, I am only running a couple of miles, like 2.75 to be specific. For now, it's more important for me to commit to consistently trying then a specific time or distance. Then the next day, I felt like I had my worst day running, since I began. I don't quite understand running, but I am just going to keep on trying.

To help me maintain my zest for running, I joined a website called DailyMile. It's basically the Facebook of the workout world. You find friends, make friends, and share your daily work out whether it be a walk, a bike ride, yoga, a fitness class, swim, etc. The best part of DailyMile is that it's a great place to be inspired. Take for example one of my DM friends has run everyday since January 1. Everyday. Woah! Even better, on the days when I might not feel motivated enough to hit the trail for my run, I think about DailyMile. I think about how I would be skipping two days in a row on my chart. So it helps me stay motivated and keeps me in check. If you are on DM and want to connect you can find me as eatplaylove.

Speaking of which, I just missed two days in a row, so I have to do a double work out today, maybe bike and run. Off to hit the trails.

This is an original post for Rocky Mountain Moms Blog. Denise can also be found over at her personal blog Eat Play Love. If you pack a lunch daily and need some inspiration, come by Colorado Bento and see Denise's latest blog adventure about packing bento lunches. On Twitter, you can follow her @eatplaylove!

Lighthouse

2010-06-24T05:00:00-07:00

For someone who is slow to see blockbuster hits, I’m not always sure what I’m getting myself into when I go to the theater or rent a movie. I don’t follow reviews, I judge DVDs by the cover and often times, my husband and I will rent a movie only to return it without the disc ever making it’s way into our DVD player. So, when my Mom and I rented My Sister’s Keeper, I had only a vague idea as to what the flick was actually about. I knew the subject matter may be a bit deep and sentimental and I was prepared for that – what I was not prepared for is the emotions that would come to the forefront and the mantra this movie about life and death would inspire in me.

To say My Sister’s Keeper “moved” me seems a bit shallow. The words do not do justice for the way the storyline of this film had a profane impact on my thinking. The message I gleaned spoke to my soul and sank my heart into a deep place I haven’t visited lately. There were many meanings one could have walked away with, each of them dependent on your past experiences and general outlook on life. And I guess I was taken off guard because after watching the characters act out the last few days of a leukemia patient's life while reflecting back on the past experiences the family had lived through … lighthouse was the only word that kept repeating itself over and over in my mind and the primary feeling I walked away with was that of deep gratitude.

Like any good plot, the story line unfolds with many unexpected twists and turns, allowing the viewer to see the movie through the eyes of all the characters. I was able to relate to each member of the cast – the Mom who’s love for her daughter is undying and blinding so much that it is hurting all other areas of her life, the sister who would do anything for a sibling, the Dad who struggles over what is right and what is wrong and Kate, the teenager who falls in love, battles a broken heart, yearns to go to the beach and overall – accepts the hand dealt to her with poise and grace by finding light in the midst of darkness. And again, I was filled with gratitude as I sat there trying to hide my tears as I re-lived moments in my own life that I have so blindly taken for granted… a first kiss, my Dad telling me I looked beautiful on Prom night, a family that loves and supports me, the freedom to enjoy a life absent of sickness, falling in love, the simple act of enjoying a sun-filled day.

This movie made me wonder why human nature allows us to carelessly dismiss these moments rather than savor them? Why does it take the diagnosis of disease, the loss of a loved one, the let-downs life comes with for many of us to experience and revel in all that is good? How is it that I’ve lived these past 30 years with an amazing family, an astonishing husband, a network of friends that allow more happiness than one could ever imagine and now, the blessing of Motherhood and a healthy, happy daughter who has light and life radiating in her eyes and her smile and yet, I feel as if my eyes have been re-opened solely by a movie that summoned a little voice gently reminding me that I have so much to be gracious for. I feel as if I found that little light that led me back to the place I so often intend to be. I found... my lighthouse.

After the movie ended, I went into my brother’s childhood room (now the ‘nursery’ at Grammy & Papa’s) and picked up my sleeping daughter and rocked with her in my arms as I gave thanks in prayer, shed a few more tears and just took in the moment. Sitting there, in the house I grew up in with both my parents still happy and healthy, missing my husband who was away with his friends - I promised myself I’d strive to find gratitude in daily life. I hope for people of like mind to gravitate towards me, to be a positive energy force, to stop and smell the roses as often and as frequently as possible. In a time where I am blessed beyond measure, I made myself a promise to fight to recognize and praise the positive moments so that when I am faced with the inevitable dark demons of life, the combination of my faith, friends, family and my own internal beacon of light will shine so brightly, it will guide me home, even in the midst of blinding darkness.

As I mentioned, my husband was away with some of his buddies on a camping trip. When we reunited after 6 days apart, on Father’s Day, and I tried to explain to him what the movie was about and how it made me feel – I got choked up all over again. Knowing he’d never be able to sit through a movie with such a dark side, I wanted to share with him how lucky we are and how gracious I am for him and for our life together. Unlike me, my husband wears rose colored glasses and sees every glass as half-full, even when it’s bone dry and empty. Lucky for me, I was able to convey my message to him with a walk in the park, a warm embrace and with the words, “I love you, babe” as they carried a meaning that reached a little further into my heart this time. His response... “Well, maybe we should see movies more often…”

When Kylie is not soul searching and constructing an internal light house, she can be found writing her blog with her kitty on her lap, daughter sleeping in her crib and classical music in the background – and loving every minute of it.

This is an original post to Rocky Mountain Moms Blog.

Girl in Translation by Jean Kwok: A SV Moms Group Book Club

2010-06-23T01:00:00-07:00

Transplanted from Hong Kong to New York City as a (very poor) young girl with her mother, Ah-Kim or Kimberley, struggled to make things better for her family, to learn English, to walk the line between traditional Chinese duties and the Americanized teenager she grew into. Join us today as we discuss the book Girl in Translation by Jean Kwok.

Here are what the SV Moms Group contributors ave to say today, all inspired by the book Girl in Translation:

Marinka from Motherhood in NYC tells her immigration story in America, Baby
Pamela from 2 Much Testosterone felt empowered
Emily from Mama Sick has hope for her son
Sharon from Channeling Ricky recognizes her own childhood embarrassment
Vanessa from Chefdruck Musings goes for a taste of America
April from It's All About Balance is a girl in gratitude
Emily Paster from West of the Loop examines secrets below the surface
Melanie from tales from the crib just wanted to fit in
Elena from Cara Mamma reflects on dreaming big
Lisa H. from Hannemaniacs has aunts just like Aunt Paula
Alma from Marketing Mommy had culture shock
Kristine from Mommy Needs Therapy or a Bottle of Wine was moved by the reality of immigrants who come to the U.S. for a "better" life
Rox from Rox and Roll has thoughts about honor
Julie from Just Precious opens her eyes in her own neighborhood
Jen B from Anybody Want A Peanut? tries to translate autism

Silicon Valley Moms Blog is hosting the book club discussion this month. Please leave a comment here to join in the discussion.

Past SV Moms Group Book Clubs have included:

I am Nujood, Aged 10 and Divorced by Nujood Ali
The Body Scoop for Girls by Dr. Jennifer Ashton
Just Let Me Lie Down by Kristin van Ogtrop, Editor of REAL SIMPLE magazine
National Geographic's Green Guide Families by Catherine Zandonella
Top 100 Finger Foods and Top 100 Baby Purees by Annabel Karmel
The Possibility of Everything by Hope Edelman
The Mominatrix's Guide to Sex by Kristen Chase
Coco Chanel & Igr Stravinsky by Chris Greenhalgh
See Mom Run by Beth Feldman
Close Encounters of the Third-Grade Kind by Phillip Done
This is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Topper
Do One Nice Thing by Debbie Tenzer
Birth Day by Mark Sloan, M.D.
What Happened to the Girl I Married? by Michael Miller
Testimony by Anita Shreve
Comfort Food by Kate Jacobs
Much to Your Chagrin by Suzanne Guilette
It Started with Pop-Tarts by Lori Hanson
Who By Fire by Diana Spechler
The White Trash Moms Handbook by Michelle Lamar
Writing Motherhood by Lisa Garrigues
The Vaccine Book by Dr. Robert W. Sears
The Other Mother by Gwendolen Gross

Click here to read all about the SV Moms Group Book Club.

Working on Just Saying No. Or saying something, anyway.

2010-06-07T05:00:00-07:00

Along with the rest of the blogworld, I've been reeling this week with the news of the death of attachment parenting guru Katie Granju's son from a drug overdose and assault. And like lots of other moms, one of the things I've been doing is to try for the first time to talk to my eight-year-old son about drugs. Only--and I'm guessing I'm not the only one, right?--I have no idea how to go about it. I keep remembering the baffling time my dad burst into my room to tell me to never, EVER ride a motorcycle without a helmet. I was about nine at the time, and about as likely to ride a motorcycle as the space shuttle. It was good information, and good to know my dad's position on wearing helmets, but I'm not sure how useful it was as a preventative measure (although come to think of it, I never have ridden a motorcycle without a helmet. Or, uh, with one. But still!)

However, my son *is* going to be asked to do drugs, and probably way sooner than I'm willing to contemplate. I want to let him know where I stand, I want to keep the lines of communication open (this somehow suggests that we're on opposite sides of an enemy engagement, doesn't it?), and maybe most of all, I want to give him the tools he needs to resist addiction (one) and the worst of the risky behavior that he's likely to soon be experimenting with (two). It's a tall order, and not one that's going to be filled by bursting into his room and saying, "Drugs are bad! Don't ever do them!"

I don't really understand addiction, and what I do know suggests that parental love and good intentions aren't tremendously effective weapons against it. However, I do know a little about risky behavior and what compels teenagers to engage in it. More importantly, I know, or think I know, the factors that caused one teenager (me) to mostly pull through okay.

1. Luck. This is obvious. Pretty much anyone who survives to age 25 has a hefty dose of luck going for them, amirite?

2. Unremitting nerdliness. Another obvious. It removes a lot of the temptations.

3. Dislike of situations in which I'm not in control. Generally thought of a personality minus, control freakiness tends to correlate well with timid teenage behavior.

4. Dedication to a difficult and demanding art for which I had to work overtime just to keep up with my peers. I played violin, and between the perhaps pathological need to practice two or three hours a day and its total domination over my weekends, I just didn't have time to get in trouble. I'm still trying to find the activity that will absorb my son this way--the catch is, of course, that it requires internal motivation. Parent-oriented activities need not apply!

5. Sudden and inexplicable devotion to health that sprang up at almost the exact same time I was starting to bum cigarettes and gravitate toward parties that involved drinking. I really don't even know where this came from, but I had the additional fortune to realize that the benefits of eating more fruits and vegetables would be totally canceled out by smoking.

So, the take-home points here? Be a cautious, socially inept, controlling health freak with a difficult and totally engaging hobby. Also, be lucky. Get right on that, son, will you?

Crap.

I did end up talking to Silas, though, and, while I was at it, my five-year-old daughter. I opened up my computer and showed them Katie Granju's website. I talked about her son, his family's grief, and how he didn't set out to hurt them or himself but that's what ended up happening. I told them that even though some kids can try all kinds of drugs and come out okay, some kids don't, and here was a guy who had so much going for him and he still didn't. I'm pretty sure I came off as ranty and one-sided, but that's okay. I'm going to keep talking to them about it--this is just the opening sally in a lifelong conversation.

Original to the Rocky Mountain Moms Blog.

Melospiza writes about the ups and downs of parenting two kids here.

The Work of 'Til Death Do Us Part

2010-06-04T20:21:40-07:00

Cross posted from our sister blog, 50-Something Moms Blog.

In the news this week it was announced that after 40 years of marriage, Al and Tipper Gore were separating. After the round of snorty, churlish jokes about who will get custody of the Internet, people began to comment on the sadness of it all. After 40 years it would seem that a couple would have a lock on a successful marriage, a marriage that withstands the tests of time, a marriage that will last 'til death do us depart. But it seems that this is not the case. In the case of the Gores, it seems that it wasn't a sordid affair or other ilk like that. No, they simply, in their own words, 'grew apart after 40 years together".Over time they had carved out separate lives.

So with the end of what always seemed to be an enduring love story where do we all begin to understand this. It doesn't just make us sad but it makes us a little scared.

Continue reading at our sister blog, 50-Something Moms Blog.

An American Girl

2010-06-03T02:00:00-07:00

There are a lot of stereotypes around the world about us, ladies. Loud, rich, obnoxious, ignorant, and sexually loose, to name a few. I’m sure you’ve heard ‘em all. I was reminded of just how prevalent these ideas are recently while sitting on a bus to Punjab amidst a sea of turban-clad Sikh men and their families.

Blaring so loudly I had to stick tissue in my ears, a popular Hindi movie screamed the entire five hour journey long. And when the token American Girl appeared in the film, she acted as to be expected. Boobs hanging out, butt cheeks exposed, the Bimbo twirled her bleached locks between her fingertips and popped her gum while the men in the film drooled and ogled, despite their wives’ scolding.

It was all quite comical, actually. The fact that there happened to be an American portrayed in this particular Hindi movie. The fact that I happened to be on that very bus, in the middle of India, as white and gleaming as I am. And it definitely got me thinking. However incorrect or at times, correct, that stereotype may be, I’m damn glad to be an American Girl.

In the past, when I’ve come home from traveling to third world countries, I often feel disillusioned with America. How can we be so wasteful? So petty? So superficial? So egocentric? But this time, upon my return, something different. Deep, deep gratitude.

For to be an American Girl carries with it so much potential. Having a daughter now makes me realize this more than ever. Of course there are many women thriving in impoverished countries, and to think that women there can’t find happiness would be foolish. But I do believe there are those whose voices we’ll never hear, who are suffering, just because they’re female.

While on the bus ride I had a lot of time to stare out the window and think, one of my favorite pastimes. I remember seeing a young girl, no more than 14, carrying rocks in a basket that hung over her head. For a split second we made eye contact as the bus slowly trudged through town. Her belly swollen, she was clearly pregnant. For this girl there would be no maternity leave, no gift registry, no choice of midwife or doctor. As a mother, my heart ached for this poor child.

Yet what struck me the most about this sweet girl was that upon seeing me, she smiled. Widely and genuinely, she flashed a grin my way. It was no doubt funny to see a crazy white lady in the middle of her country on a local bus. But despite her apparent devastating situation by our standards, she beamed, exposing her innocence. It reminded me again that little girls are little girls everywhere, no matter the conditions.

The bus carried on towards Punjab, and the Hindi movie sang loudly as we rode. Within in two minutes of entering the scene, the American Bimbo was zapped and killed by the heroic, Indian Diva. Our antagonist had clearly served her purpose. As I watched the movie and thought of the little pregnant girl, I thought to myself that I’d take all those stereotypes and more in exchange for the life I am fortunate enough to lead here, an American Girl.

This is an original post to Rocky Mountain Moms Blog. When this Bleach Blonde Bimbo is not busy taking local buses and eating dhal bat in Asia, she can be found making light of life on her blog: Brie’s Blunderings.

I am Nujood, Aged 10 and Divorced by Nujood Ali: A SV Moms Group Book Club

2010-06-02T01:00:00-07:00

Married as a child into an abusive relationship in Yemen, this little girl had the strength to escape and demand a divorce. Interviewed by the New York Times over Skype, Nujood Ali, who does not speak English and worked with a French co-author to write her memoir, I am Nujood, Aged 10 and Divorced, tells her powerful story of becoming a child bride. It is a story that is, unfortunately, not just hers. Join us today as we discuss the book I am Nujood, Aged 10 and Divorced by Nujood Ali, with Delphine Minoui.

Here are what the SV Moms Group contributors have to say today, all inspired by the book I am Nujood, Aged 10 and Divorced:

Tiffany from Lattes and Life wishes we all had a little of Nujood in us
Grace from Tale of the Multi-Tasking, Craft-and-Design-Loving, Mother-of-Two, Singaporean-Living-in-US, Corporate-Working Mom Named Grace Hester was motivated to look up more into the practice of child brides in Yemen
Lisa H. from Hannemaniacs hopes other women can pull together the strength to reclaim their life and happiness
Kara-Noel from Eli's Lids: The Blog points out that Yemen is not the only place where 9-year-olds are on display
Sarah from The Travel Mommy considers when honor is at stake
Heidi from Coast to Coast Mom says that getting married at nine is like getting married at four
Garima from Mommy In Making determines that something can be done about it...it starts with education
Sharon from Channeling Ricky examines everyday bravery
Jen from Anybody Want A Peanut? asks what is hope?
Bay from Queen Mother Blog thinks this book should be fast-tracked to high school reading lists
Cheryl from SpecialSauce in the House views home as a springboard
Jennifer Z. from Dirty Little Secret says that many divorced people deserve a party grander than their weddings
Kristine from Mommy Needs therapy or a Bottle of Wine is given a book, a co-worker and some perspective
Melissa from Peanut Butter in my Hair shares lessons from Nujood
Helen P from I Want a Book Deal hopes it’s not for nought
Melanie from tales from the crib talk to her kids about "when I grow up..."
Michelle from Honest & Truly! examines childhood scars
Julie from Just Precious thinks about honor and family
Jill from Musings from Me on Kids, Preteens, and Teens reads the line "one less mouth to feed"
Lisa from blog on the wall is in awe of this little girl
Torie from Manhattan: For Better or Worse is thinking independently
Michelle from Wife and Mommy asks how old were you?
Nicole from Not Just a Working Mom "confesses" that she was married and divorced
Janelle from Mama Daisy is looking through a mommy lens
Zoeyjane from Raising Zoeyjane has a disclosure: how much is too much?
Linsey from Me Too You examines her other mother fantasies

DC Metro Moms Blog is hosting the book club discussion this month. Please leave a comment here join in the discussion.

Past SV Moms Group Book Clubs have included:

The Body Scoop for Girls by Dr. Jennifer Ashton
Just Let Me Lie Down by Kristin van Ogtrop, Editor of REAL SIMPLE magazine
National Geographic's Green Guide Families by Catherine Zandonella
Top 100 Finger Foods and Top 100 Baby Purees by Annabel Karmel
The Possibility of Everything by Hope Edelman
The Mominatrix's Guide to Sex by Kristen Chase
Coco Chanel & Igr Stravinsky by Chris Greenhalgh
See Mom Run by Beth Feldman
Close Encounters of the Third-Grade Kind by Phillip Done
This is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Topper
Do One Nice Thing by Debbie Tenzer
Birth Day by Mark Sloan, M.D.
What Happened to the Girl I Married? by Michael Miller
Testimony by Anita Shreve
Comfort Food by Kate Jacobs
Much to Your Chagrin by Suzanne Guilette
It Started with Pop-Tarts by Lori Hanson
Who By Fire by Diana Spechler
The White Trash Moms Handbook by Michelle Lamar
Writing Motherhood by Lisa Garrigues
The Vaccine Book by Dr. Robert W. Sears
The Other Mother by Gwendolen Gross

Click here to read all about the SV Moms Group Book Club.

Naps ... the end of an era?

2010-05-31T02:00:00-07:00

Last month I called the pediatrician and inquired about their abilities to perform exorcisms. Something had happened to my perfect little two year old son. Sadly, I was informed that not only did this particular pediatrician's office not perform such acts, but that the separation anxiety, teething, sleep troubles, change in dietary selection and all around horrific behavior being exhibited by my perfect son was, well, normal.

Deep sigh.

I was also informed that this would merely be a phase and it would pass, perhaps in four to six weeks. Well, after about seven weeks, most things did return to normal. His molars were in, so that part was done. I was allowed to be out of sight long enough to quickly go to the bathroom without a tantrum. And

he started going back to his normal two to three hour naps (versus the 45-minute attempts of the weeks prior).

Then, what did we do? We dragged him off to Ireland on a family vacation for ten days! Yep, we screwed it all up again. You can read all about that adventure here.

He didn't enjoy the cribs in the hotels and thus, slept in our bed every night. Selfishly, we absolutely loved it! But, we don't practice the family bed concept at home and hadn't planned on starting it two years into parenthood. Not only was our son not in a crib, but due to the insane and wonderful travel schedule we had, most of his naps were spent in a car seat while we journeyed to the next town.

So, I guess I can't complain. Reap what you sow, right?

Fast forward to our getting home and back into a routine. Yeah, right. Sadly, he came home with a stomach flu that had him feverish, lethargic and experiencing all around irritation. So, back into our bed he went for all of his hours of napping and bedtimes. That lasted four days and then, thankfully, he managed to sleep in his own bed without fail.

Naps, however, we are not so lucky. I fear that he has decided (or have we conditioned him at this point?) that the only way he can nap is in my arms while we sit in the chair in his room. He manages to fall asleep peacefully and no matter five minutes or ten complete with snoring into his relaxing, if I go to put him in his crib, he screams as if I'm attempting to put him into a pot of boiling water. Horrific image, I know, but now you can envision the blood curdling screams I get. Awful. So, we rinse, lather and repeat ... back to the chair and back to the screams.

So, two days in a row ... no nap.

I joke that my son is passive-aggressive. He screams if I'm not with him in the room, yet he has taken to hitting me. Awesome.

I fear the days of my free time with him napping are few and far between. I guess I have two options and a choice to make ... suck it up and keep him awake and busy (and change his bedtime). Or, do what everyone told me to do, but didn't, when he was a newborn ... sleep when he sleeps. It's a really comfy chair, if I must admit ... and one that has some snoozing miles on it. Oh the dilemma ...

This is an original post to Rocky Mountain Mom's Blog. When Mandi isn't dozing off in the chair with her son, she can be found escaping the craziness and blogging at Starbuck's at 8:30 at night!

The Art of Losing

2010-05-30T02:00:00-07:00

I'm fluent in baseball. I know the light tink of the bat just grazing the threaded ball ("Foul!"), the whistling swish of a bat swung hard against the empty air ("Strike!"), the hard thonk of a baseball caught in leather ("Out!"). I know the ringing thud of a bat striking ball, the cleated feet tearing up the first base line, and I swear I know the cut of the umpire's arms against the air--"Safe!" That's when I can open my eyes and enjoy a few moments of my eight-year-old son's baseball game, before the next player comes up to bat.

It's been a hard year for Silas's baseball team. They're currently 1 and 13 or so with two more games left to play. It's become something of a masochist's art, attending their games. "Nice try, Ethan!" we parents have become adept at calling. "Way to stop the ball, Trevor!" Sometimes another mom will lean into me after a good inning and say something like, It's only four and seven! I think they might have a shot of winning this one--wouldn't that be GREAT!

And I'll nod, tensely, my eyes squinted just enough that I can't see but it isn't obvious I have them shut. I'm concentrating on the next play, and I don't want to jinx it by hoping too much.

If someone asks how Si's baseball is going this year, I'll lie and say it's going great. "They aren't winning too many games," I'll say, "But they're all trying really hard, and they play great in practice. In the end, that's really all that counts."

I'm totally lying through my teeth, of course. After every unsuccessful play I wilt a little inside, and another lost game adds a pall to the day that's hard to dispel, partly because it's so hard to justify. I mean, it's a darn Little League game. They're eight. And most of them, including my son, don't seem to tremendously care one way or the other if they're winning or losing. So why is it that the season has had such a dispiriting effect on me?

Partly, of course, it's that there's nothing as satisfying as a well-played game, with the kids I know out on the field making all the right moves, catching those pop flies, stopping those grounders, whaling the bat so that the balls soar into the outfield and beyond. Duh. That's why people like sports.

But the other thing that dogs me is this: Si loves the game, and I want it to love him back. It's the only extracurricular activity he's ever wanted to do, and I feel like it's betraying him. For baseball, he's learned how to practice (a little), hustle (some), and in general lean into the cold, invigorating air of hard work. The least it could do, I think, is let his team win once in a while.

It's a complicated variety of vicarious parenting, in other words. I want him to win not because it's what he wants (although to tell it straight he wouldn't MIND winning), not because I thirst after the reflected glory, but because it just seems like he and his team SHOULD win. It's the right thing to happen: they've worked hard this year, put in extra plays and practices, and they're playing better than ever. That kind of dedication just ought to pay off.

Somewhere I read that one of the key ways to build a child's character is for him to work all-out to achieve something and fail. This is one of those aphoristic nuggets that seems both true when applied to other people and like utter bullshit when applied to someone I know and love. I can see Si's struggles. I know how hard he and his team work. Couldn't they just have one lousy winning streak--just one?

And that's when I realize that maybe the character in need of work here is my own. I want my son's team to win--but it's not like the Baseball Fates care when I wince less-than-subtly at a fumbled play. It's not the Fates whose feelings trudge a little lower as I call with patient disappointment after another strike out, "Nice try." No--it's the wide-open ears of the sweet, hard-working, eternally hopeful boys out on the field. The boys--my boy--feel my disappointment as keenly as a Geiger counter feels radioactive particles. And while I might be disappointed at Life that it doesn't see fit to grant them a win, on the field that comes across mostly as disappointment that the boys don't see fit to grant us a win. And that ain't right.

So I take a deep breath, stand up out of my folding camp chair, and cheer them on. To another hard-fought loss. And I make sure it's obvious how proud I am.

An original Rocky Mountain Moms Blog post.

Melospiza also writes about the struggles of balanced parenting here.