On Watching TV

I actually had planned to update long before now but had trouble getting into the system. Yeah, I know, terribly disappointing, ain't it?

Anyway, I've lost the chance to post a couple of good rants. One was on why does the Superbowl matter? I mean, really, it's not like I'm going to lose weight, win money, or get more friends if the Steelers win. Why is it so doggone important then? Why am I stressing out over whether they play well or not? How does it affect me personally? Why will it make a difference five seconds after the game ends? Yet here I am, reading any drivel I can about the game. The really sad thing is that I've managed to transfer my paranoia/strangeness/whatever to my younger daughter. She now knows that you have to lay on the couch in the direction the Steelers are heading. She knows that when the Steelers have the ball, you always point your index fingers (either for first down or touchdown) and when they are on defense, you fist your hands (the universal signal for 4th down). She knows that when the Steelers are either going for a touchdown or kicking a field goal, you put both hands in the air to signal the score (and, of course, when the other team is kicking a field goal, you make the no good signal). Who would have guessed that watching football required so much training?

I can't really remember much else I was planning to rant about other than Smallville last night: I mean, really, did anyone want Bo Duke to die instead of little Miss-All-About-Me? Raise your hand if you were relieved Lana lived? I thought so.

Can I Breath Now?

I may or may not have mentioned this, but I'm a huge Steelers fan. Always have been - growing up in Pittsburgh in the 70's has something to do with it, I'm sure. Anyway, since 1980, the team has really done nothing but break my heart. There's always something that keeps them from getting to the big game or (in 1995) winning the big game. It's usually that they are just good enough to not win. They only win enough to ruin any chances for a good draft pick. Always a bridesmaid, never a bride as they say. So as a Steelers' fan, you develop a sense of self-preservation and brace yourself for the game you are sure they can't win. For me, it was yesterday's game at Indy. Oh sure, anything can happen, but our pass defense had been so porous, and, well, the most I was hoping for was a close game.

Then, BAM! 14-0 and Manning can't complete a pass to save his life. Do my eyes deceive me? Can this be? Ah, but here comes Manning near the end of the half - surely he's going to cut the lead in half. And with the Colts getting the ball first in the second half ... well, it was nice while it lasted. But wait, the Colts are held to 3 points. Whoa, dodged a bullet that time. Maybe the Steelers can hang with them.

Second half - waiting for the inevitable Colts offensive explosion. But wait, the Steelers are now up 21-3. How can that be? I mean, yeah, I love my team, but come on. These are the Colts they are playing, everybody's appointed SuperBowl champ.

Fourth quarter and if you thought things were strange, you ain't seen nothin' yet. Steelers go for it on 4th and 1, not once, but twice. And make it twice. Despite the Refs "do-over" on the offsides/encroachment/illegal motion (don't know what should have been called, but something should have been). And then Troy intercepts Manning. Woo doggies, game over, right? Right? HOW ON G-D'S GREEN EARTH CAN THEY REVERSE THAT CALL??!?!?!?!?!?? We are so screwed. But wait, Manning's sacked at the 2 on a 4th and 16. That has GOT to be game, right? Right? Bettis fumbles? HUH? WHA? The man never fumbles. WHY? WHY? WHY? Thank heavens for Ben's tackle - at least they have a chance (however slim). Guess I should have been happy the Steelers stuck with them this long. WIDE RIGHT!!!! Vanderjagt is wide right! Oh my heavens, they just did it. They won the game. I'm stunned.

Of course, now I'm worried they've spent all of their emotion on this game and will come out flat against the Broncos. They can't win that game, can they? Someone pass the Maalox.

I'm Grouchy

Hubby's out of town and I know I should be getting a bunch of stuff done, but I'm tired, and I'm irritable, and I'm just downright grouchy. I couldn't wait for the kids to get to bed - mainly because I want to go to bed now too. Hubby called, and I don't think I could have sounded less interested. Kids were shooed off to bed with a grouchy grumble. And here I was thinking I'd get tons accomplished when he was out of town. I mean, it's not like I don't have anything to do. I probably have a good 8 hours of work that I brought home with me. I definitely need to exercise. The house needs cleaned, and tomorrow is garbage day. So what do I want to do? Eat raw cookie dough and go to bed. I guess I'll do the garbage ... and I really should get some laundry done so my older girl will have something to wear to her sleepover on Friday. But that's it. I'm not exercising tonight. And I am going to dig into that cookie dough.

Gee, wonder why I didn't lose weight last week?

Motivated? Ask Me How....Tomorrow

Haven't felt much like posting in here lately. Job's been a bit hectic. So how about them New Year's Resolutions? I'm so proud... exercised multiple times last week (4 times, I think) ... watched what I was eating ... and guess what? I lost a whopping .. oh, let me think ... carry the 1 ... Zero pounds. That right. Zip, nada, zippo. Color me impressed. I know, I know, I'm doing the right things, it'll come, it takes time ... rinse, lather, repeat. Look, I'm not ambitious on the best of days, so without some kind of instantaneous gratification, I'm headed for the chocolate. Heck, I'm halfway there the moment I get out of bed most days. Chocolate demands nothing. It doesn't make inflict repetitive motion injuries on myself in 45 minute doses (unless, of course, there's such a think as chocolate elbow ... you know, from dipping into the box repeated ... but I digress). It just sits there and tastes good. I don't have to force myself to eat chocolate and in some wacky scientific corners, it's almost a health food, right? Right.

I know, I know, rinse, lather, repeat. Grumble, grumble.

And I Mean It This Time ... Honest

Another year, another chance to blow through some resolutions you have no intention of keeping. Yeah, I know. I have them too. And this year, I rilly, rilly mean it. I do. Honest. Is that a coookie over there? *ahem* Yeah, the weight loss thing is top of the list. I'm getting to the age when my family history of heart attacks should start rearing its ugly head so I should be motivated. It's just that .. well, food tastes so good ... and getting sweaty? Not so much. Oh, I've done the exercise thing twice so far (yay me?), and I've cut down on the snacking, but still ... I'd rather be eating bon-bons on the sofa while watching tv. Ya know, I think I should resolve to gain about 50 pounds - I'll either accomplish it or be happy that I didn't. I'm sure the doctor would love that one. And speaking of doctors, why do they always weigh you, no matter what you go in for? Got a sore throat, step on the scale. Broken leg? Scale again. I think they are intentionally trying to scare people away from going to the doctors. Look, I know I'm a load - I don't need the reminder ... trust me.

Oh well, what about the other stuff? I think Jynx has about the best list of resolutions I've ever seen. She's just so darned organized - I hate that. As for me, I have the standard read more, write more, have more fun things going, but they all feel a little fuzzy. What exactly is more anyways? If I read one more page than last year, will that allow me to check the yes box on that resolution? Going to be kind of tough as I don't know how much or little I read last year. I've tried with a anal specific target list - you know, X minutes doing this, X minutes doing that. But then I just get depressed when I realize that if I add up all my minutes I don't have time to do anything else. Anybody else want another cookie?

Mid-life Crisis? You Can't Make Me ...

Had an interesting dinner with a good friend last night. We both seem to be in a bit of a funk - from outward appearances, things are fine, terrific, swell even. But for some reason, we both feel kind of bummed out. After many glasses of soda (honest) and too long in a restaurant, we came to the uncomfortable conclusion that perhaps we're going through the dreaded mid-life crisis. Why is that bad? Well, I don't WANT to be old. When I think that way (which is probably fairly accurate), I have to admit my own mortality. I have to admit that half of my time on this planet has already passed. I don't wanna. You can't make me. *insert tongue sticky outy thing here*

Anyway, as we meandered through our conversation, it also became clear that neither of us are the time of people who folks gravitate towards, and that thank heavens we made friends in our twenties because new friends? It ain't happening. Part of the problem seems to be a latent rebellion. As I get older, I'm finding myself more and more annoyed by people who try to tell me what to do. I think it's because I was ever so obedient all my life, and it's starting to piss me off. Besides, it seems as though (particularly with family) what I do is never enough so why bother? Anyway, what it all boiled down to is the resurgence of a you-can't-make me attitude that while I don't necessarily verbalize, underlies much of my annoyance with life. Add to that a feeling that I'm tired of arguing with people (they should just do whatever "because I said so" - I'm often not really good at backtracking to how I reached a decision), and you end up with one crotchety old woman. Hmmm, maybe mid-life crisis isn't so bad afterall?

Chestnuts, Bells, and the Fat Guy w/ Cookies

Ok, can someone tell me how Christmas snuck up on me this year? I mean, it's not like I haven't been seeing the decorations for the last 3-4 months. And it's not like I haven't been accosted by people manning the kettles at every store. Yet here I sit, two weeks away and do I have cards done? No, not even made yet. Presents wrapped? Heck, I'm lucky they're bought. Tree up? What's a tree? Cookies ... mmmm, cookies ... wait, where was I? Anyway, suffice to say I am NOT ready for the holidays. And the more it starts looking like Christmas, the more Scrooge-like I feel. I guess I truly am a vile person.

Anyway, I'm also grumpy because (shock, dismay, astonishment) I'm trying to get into shape again. Yeah, yeah, I know, it takes time. But if I'm making myself miserable for two weeks, dagnabbit, I should see some improvement, right? I mean, it's not like I'm Twiggy trying to lose an ounce or two - we're talking about some serious padding that I need to dump. So is it too much to ask for a pound or two after a couple of weeks? Apparently, it is. *sigh* I'm such a whiner.

The Typhoid Mary of Television

What's the worst thing that can happen to a show you like? I'm beginning to think it's having me watch it. I am death to a tv show - pretty much everything I've liked either hovers in the edge of existinction (Veronica Mars anyone?) or gets cancelled after a couple of shows (Let's see, Firefly, Miracles, and [even though it wasn't that good] Threshold). Is my taste really that bizzarre? I used to think I was great at discovering future cult classics - I mean, I watched X-Files from day one, Xena from day one, Buffy from day one ... you get the picture. Now I just think my taste is weird.

What's even worse is when I pick up a show that's been on for awhile - you guessed, DOA. I'm talking Farscape and now Alias. Yeah, maybe Alias had seen better days, but it kind of reduces me to one show that I tape. Yes, one (the previously mentioned Veronica Mars). So beware. If you really like a show, don't tell me ... at least until it's already cancelled and available on DVD (yay DVDs).

I'm A Loser, Baby ...

Wow, blast from the past musically, but fairly reflective of how I feel. Tired and ready to give up on pretty much everything. Very burned out on the job front - tired of dealing with morons who don't give a damn about anything but their own bonus, tired of being blamed for everything except the bombing in Baghdad, tired of fighting everyone to get the simplest of projects done, just tired. I wish there was some acceptable solution here. Yeah, yeah, I know, find something else. Except there is nothing else in my area of expertise in my area. Moving elsewhere would have too much of a financial penalty, and so I sit. And because I'm so miserable, I get too tired to do much of anything else. Thank heavens the holidays are coming. At least I can forget about everything for a couple of days.

Moving Outside My Comfort Zone

which, by the way, I think is shrinking more rapidly than a wool sweater in boiling water. Anyway, today is one of those frustrating days where I've been spending a lot of time accomplishing exactly nothing. Everything I need to do depends on someone else who has a boatload less urgency than I do about the situation - which is fine, except I'm the one who has to explain why it takes 5 times longer than it should to complete whatever task has been assigned. No wonder I'm eating everything that isn't tied down. Not exactly the Alfred E. Neuman type - I live to fret ... or fret to live... or something like that. That's why I so totally need to win the lottery - it's not greed, it's a health issue. Honest. Think the insurance companies would buy it? Me neither. *sigh*

Other than work, I've had a whopping one good day so far this week. Exercised last night, cleaned a bit, read a bit ... all that good stuff (OK, I ate to much, but ...). Kids got great report cards - I get to go hear the rest of the story tomorrow (parent-teacher meetings). Just hoping the younger one has decided to hide her inner Haskell a bit better.

Speaking of Muzzles ...

Pat Robertson once again demonstrating the loving nature that the public has come to associated with "Christianity." Some background: the Dover schoolboard in York was taken over by a bunch of fundamentalist (who put the mental in fundamenta) who decided that what the district really needed was a court case (obviously there was too much money floating around the district, right?) so they put in a mandatory statement about how evolution was a theory and had "gaps" and "intelligent design" offered an alternative ... blah, blah, blah. Oh, and did I mention that the folks who push this home-school their kids ... and that the person who put the books in the school supporting intelligent design as a "anonymous donation" was the father of the driving force behind the whole thing. Anyway, the voters of Dover had the shits of it and kicked out all 8 of the board members responsible for this nonsense. Bear in mind, this has nothing to do with creationism vs. evolution or the value of either argument, just what is appropriate to teach in schools. (My belief is in a creator who used evolution as the method of His creation, but I don't depend on the schools to perpetrate that.)

Anyway, Robertson said (and I quote) "If there is a disaster in your area, don't turn to God, you rejected him from your city." He continued, "And don’t wonder why he hasn’t helped you when problems begin, if they begin. I’m not saying they will, but if they do, just remember, you just voted God out of your city. And if that’s the case, don’t ask for his help because he might not be there." OK, several problems with this nasty, vindictive little man. Did it ever occur to him that a God powerful enough to create the world might be able to control a schoolboard election? How does he know that it wasn't God's will that these people get kicked off the schoolboard? I just love his certainty that he and he alone knows God's will. Well, bully for you. That's something that even Abraham Lincoln never claimed. Lincoln said something to the effect that it doesn't matter if God is on our side but rather are we on God's side. I just wish these holier-than-thous would think about that one once in awhile.

Accentuate the Positive ...

Eliminate the negative? I fear that would lead to eliminating myself of late. The question that always comes up for me is who is in control of how I feel about things? I know no one can control circumstances, but can I control how I react? I have to believe that I can. So why choose to reactive negatively? It all has to do with control - who is in control, who can be in control, who should be in control. I've been letting circumstances frustrate me and control my reactions. This lack of control cascades throughout life when I let it. I'm frustrated so I eat more. I'm frustrated so I mouth off more (who, me? really? whoddathunkit?).

It might sound dorky, but I've been turning to the book of Proverbs lately. One loud and clear message that keeps being repeated over and over and over and over... keep your darn mouth shut. Yeah, yeah, there are multiple aspects of this idea, but the basic remains the same. Shut it. I think I'm too much of a big mouth. I tend to forget to sensor myself and oops, out it comes. So, anybody got a muzzle I can borrow?

Can You Really Enjoy Something You Don't Think Is That Good?

Went to see "The Boyfriend" last night with a friend. It's an old, old musical that's well past it's expiration date. The plot is trite and painfully shallow. Basically, it's about a bunch of rich 17 year olds who think that a girl needs a boyfriend to be complete by the time they are 17. Yeah, it's really that bad. Of course, two of the shallow rich kids pretend to be poor and hook up and live happily every after. The only thing missing was the line "It's 10:30, kiss her already." Oh, and did I mention the comic relief was a lecherous old man (bordering on pedophile)? And that the "17-year-olds" were all played by women on the downside of thirty? No?

At any rate, as is my habit, I went into critique mode with my friend on the way out of the theater. She just kind of shrugged and said it had music and dancing so she enjoyed it. She's used to my criticism and doesn't mind that I rip apart the show we see (in fact, I think she kind of finds it funny - at least I hope so). But the comment kind of implied that I didn't enjoy it. Not the case. It annoyed me, but the female lead had a good voice, and some of the male dancers weren't half bad. Did I think it was a good musical? No (you can only get away with that thin of a story if the music is Gershwin quality - it wasn't). Did I enjoy it? Sure. I don't really have to think something is good to enjoy it. Does that make me strange?

Tagged Twice, So I Gotta ...

Besides, it looks like fun (yes, I do have a perverted view of fun, why do you ask?)....oh, and thanks, Don and Jynx.

Three screen names that you've had: hftr, HereForTheRide, Bickett

Three things you like about yourself: my eyes, my intelligence, my honesty

Three things you don't like about yourself: my current physical condition (read body), my insecurity, my response to stressful situations (pissy and crying or eating everything that doesn't move ... or doesn't move quickly enough)

Three parts of your heritage: Scot; Irish; German

Three things that scare you: death, something happening to my kids, heights

Three of your everyday essentials: Diet Dr. Pepper, hugs from my kids, chocolate (oops, how'd that sneak in here)

Tree things you are wearing right now: Sweater, socks and khakis

Three of your favorite songs: Death Came A Knockin', The Sheperd's Wife, Rocky Road to Dublin

Three things I want in a relationship: Respect, trust, and the love thing

Two truths and a lie: I miss riding my bike, I love watching my kids play soccer, I believe there is a job out there that could make me happy

Three things you can't live without: my family, my car, my dvds (sad, I know)

Three places you want to go on vacation: Russia, Antartica, China

Three things you just can't do: Bowl, golf, not worry

Three kids names: Katherine, Sarah, Seth

Three things you want to do before you die: I'll go with the ever popular get published; wget back to my pre-pregnancy weight; be at peace with myself

Three celeb crushes: John Cusack, Richard Dean Anderson, Lenny Kravitz

Three of your favorite musicians: Kate Rusby, Seamus Egan, Sam Philips

Three physical things about the opposite sex that appeals to you: eyes, voice, smile

Three of your favorite hobbies: Photography, biking, cult tv series

Three things you really want to do badly right now: Go to bed; win the lottery; exercise

Three careers you're considering/you've considered: Archeology, English Teacher, Trust fund baby

Three ways that you are stereotypically a boy: FOOTBALL!! Hate shopping; play computer games

Three ways that you are stereotypically a girl: Self-doubting, emotional, want everyone to get along

Three people that I would like to see post this meme: Mo, hatgirl, and Izza

Here an Idea, There an Idea ...

Just read Don's post about where his ideas come from and it got me thinking about my own writing. I just realized that most of my ideas come from unexpressed frustration. The first thing I ever attempted was due to my frustration at church, at the shallow hypocrisy of it all ... mostly in myself. The next thing was due to my frustration at work, at the inability to make a connection with most of my coworkers and the realization of how easy it was to hide on the internet. The latest is based on my frustration with corporate America, how manipulative those in control are. Wow, am I a sad case or what?

I guess I write more because I have to than I realize. I think it helps me work through situations that I cannot control and probably cannot get out of. I won't stop going to church because I want my kids raised in a church environment, and in spite of everything, I still believe. I know that I can search forever and not find a church that fits me, so I go to the one I'm currently going to. Doesn't make it any less frustrating. I work because I like the money (yeah, I need it to a certain extent, but really, it's because I grew up with little money and I like that I don't have to worry about it - so long as I still have my job ... selling my youth [or should I say sold] for security). I can't stop seeing things the way I do, and for the most part, I can't change them, but at least I can work them out in my mind by writing about them. I guess that's why it really doesn't matter if I ever send out anything to be published. I need to settle the world/make sense of it somehow, and this is how I do it. I guess I'm pretty cracked, but it's better than going postal, right?

Halloween Pet Peeves

Sit down and let granny tell you a little story. When I was a young'un, back in the days of the dinosaur, we used to make our own costumes. We'd then go door to door in our own neighborhood (this was before the razorblade-in-the-apple scare), and the neighbors would try and guess who we were (this was back in the days when masks weren't considered safety hazards that cut down your peripheral vision). Surprisingly, our neighbors actually knew the kids in the neighborhood, and could make a fair guess. By the time you were in fifth or sixth grade, you graduated from trick-or-treat night (this means you didn't go out for the once-a-year candy grab).

Flash forward to last year. Well past the due date for trick-or-treating, I get to hand out candy. I dress the young ones in hideously overpriced costumes with no masks and dad takes them out. I know about 5 of 60 kids that come to our door over the next two hours. None of them introduce themselves. Few bother to say thank-you. Then we get the teenagers who don't even bother to dress up and just come for the candy. I harass them a bit but still give out the candy. They respond by trying to steal our pumpkins (guess they didn't like the harassment). Thankfully, hubby (who thinks Jerome Bettis is a wee little man) is home and chases them off. Happy Halloween, huh?

I'm sorry, but I think there should be rules for Halloween - the first of which is if you don't know the name of the people you are visiting, you shouldn't go to that house. Barring that, you should at least live within a 1 mile radius of the place. If you don't say thank-you, you should be required to return the candy immediately (as a side note, my husband mentioned he got a ton of comments on how nice it was to hear thank-yous - our kids have been civilized at least that much ... in fact, the younger girl thought they were going out visiting - she wanted to pet everyone's dogs and carry on conversations with the people). And this is the biggie - if you are old enough to drive, you are too old to go trick or treating. 'nuff said.

All's Quiet on the Eastern Front

Well, no more updates from the teacher on my daughter. Of course, the fact that the other kid has not been in school for a week may have something to do with it, but I'll take what I can get. Went to my first Parents Association meeting last night. Last year they held them during the day so I couldn't attend. Very interesting. Let's just say that I now understand more clearly than ever the differences between a public school and a private school.

When my older girl was in public school, I went to every meeting and ended up being an officer on the board - mainly because no one else wanted to. Their major concern was the upcoming skating parties. Blech. My husband promised to take on some other heinous task if I would just go to the meeting so he didn't have to. Flash forward to last night. First of all, I wasn't drafted for any position on the board (definitely to the good). They had the upper school college counsellor present to the group. That's right, a school that has a graduating class of about 30 max has its own college counsellor (compare this to one counsellor for all needs for a class of 600 at one of the local public schools). Apparently, she starts sending out information in the 7th grade, and has her first meeting with the families in 8th to plot out the kids' next four years of school. Junior year, everyone is required to take a class about what college they want to attend. She helps the kids and their parents pick out a couple of schools, then she researches them for the families. The school submits and tracks your application. They work with your on your essays and recommendation letters, and even have mock interviews in front of real college recruiters. It's like geek nirvana. I just wish I had all of this when I was graduating from high school. What's really cool is that they aren't really interested in sending the kids to Ivy League schools for the sake of sending them to Ivy League schools. The opinion is that undergraduates get screwed at name schools, and it's better to wait until you're going for an advanced degree. It's just so impressive.

I am getting dumber

And it's scaring me. It seems like more and more, I have conversations where I just can't seem to locate pertinent facts until much, much later. Case in point - this morning, I was talking about the King Tut exhibit that is touring the US. I really want to see it because it took the personal intervention of Egypt's president to get it out of the country. Who's that? Er...um...Sadat? No, no, no, that's the guy who was in charge when Camp David happened (another name I couldn't come up with over the weekend). Er...um...not Nasser... Begin? No, no, no, that was Israel. It took me a good 20 minutes to come up with Hosni Mubarak. No big deal you say? Just the latest in a long line of not being able to remember stuff, says I. I used to blame it on having kids, but now I'm convinced I'm just losing brain cells somehow. They must leak out of my ears when I sleep. The sad thing is that I don't really forget stuff, I just remember it out of order. Know where Sadat came from? I was talking to my husband about Jimmy Carter on Friday and I couldn't remember the leaders involved in the Camp David Peace Accords. I finally come up with the answer today - when I'm trying to remember the current President. Ay-yi-yi-yi. Should I start saving for my room at the home yet?

Mean? My Daughter?

Had an interesting couple of days last week. It all started when my older girl came home and told me she wanted to tell me something the Spanish teacher told her. She seemed very proud. I told her to just say it, but she said she didn't want to say it in front of her sister. Needless to say, this made me insanely curious. Turns out the teacher told her something to the effect that she couldn't believe she was so sweet when her sister was so mean.

Mean? My daughter? Knock me over with a feather. I was stunned. I mean, the girl is 4 years old - what could she have done in the two hours a week she had Spanish to cause the teacher to call her mean? Yeah, the teacher was totally unprofessional, but still ... mean? My daughter? As a parent you try so hard to raise your kids to be "nice". Very few people want their kids to be the school yard bully, yet somebody has to be right? But my kid? I fought with myself, half stunned and half in denial. How could we have been so blind?

Next step, of course, was to call her regular teacher. Turns out she has been having trouble with one of the girls in her class. Per the teacher, my daughter and this other girl are the two oldest kids in the class, and they bump heads frequently. I know of this other girl - she's basically a queen b in training (I know, I know, horrible thing to say about a 5 year old, but there you are). In talking to another parent, she said her daughter didn't like this girl because she acted one way in front of grown-ups and another way when no one was looking. Apparently, my daughter wasn't about to let this girl have her way (my daughter can be rather bull-headed). She even started being obnoxiously "nice" to the girl - sitting next to her and smiling at her (you know the way ... in case you don't, consider when I asked my daughter if this is how she would want to be treated, she said no). Part of me is concerned that I'm shaping the story the way I want to see it to make my daughter look good. I don't think so, but still...

Anyway, we're working through the issue with her. But it made me wonder, how nice should we teach our children to be? In their class, they are told everyone is their "friend". Well, I don't know about you, but if somebody takes things from me and pushes me, they aren't my friend, no matter what anyone else says. How do you get this across to a 4 year old? How do you teach them to be nice but not to be a doormat? I have to confess there is a small part of me that is proud of her for sticking up for herself. Does that make me a bad mom?

Just hope I'm not raising the schoolyard bully ...

Tales of Weekends Past

Well, we survived the soccer tournament. The girls seemed to have fun and actually won a game (their first win of the season). The net result is that it made me even more grateful for my daughter's coach. She was the only female coach in their bracket, and in my mind, was utterly fantastic in how she worked with the girls. She yelled only to get the ref's attention for a substitution or to remind the girls to position themselves correctly. She was firm but kind. She never bitched out any of the kids, and they all felt like a million bucks by the time they left that afternoon. Compare that to some of the other coaches. Some teams had two or three men yelling at them, telling them to do this, do that in real nasty voices. I just really don't think that's necessary at this age and talent level. It certainly didn't get any better performance out of the kids.

Oh, and I did end up buying Robots for the girls as a treat. All in all a good, but tiring weekend.