Yearly Archives: 2011

Bewildered

September 23, 2011UncategorizedKirsetin

Last week I was writing a list of my strengths, the life experiences and traits I possess that are assets to me as a writer. (People, please. This wasn’t just for fun and hubris, it was an assignment for a class I’m taking.)

No problem. It took some time to think this through, but I have a fairly solid grasp of my strengths and weaknesses so it wasn’t a stressful assignment. Public speaking: strength. Getting clothes into the hamper: weakness. (Ooh, essay idea, right there!)

When I checked in with my classmates, an absolutely fantastic bunch by the way, here’s what I found: their strengths were really strong. Life as an expat with baby-in-tow, and illegal home births (Hello, Kentucky, really? Illegal?) are just a couple of things this talented group brings to the table. As I read through their ideas I was excited to get to know these women.

Fast forward one day: Time to get busy. I whipped through a query letter and felt good about it. Solid idea, probable market, all good. Then I tried to pitch the same idea from a different angle. Tremendous thud.

And suddenly, out of left field, the insults came flying. You’re ideas aren’t good, you’re not good at spinning stories, Listen up, Little Miss I’ve Had a Happy Life: you have a lot less to work with and write about than your friends who’ve been through the ringer.

This astonishing lack of confidence came from within, of course. I was taken aback; lack of confidence is not my modus operandi. I don’t have time to wallow in that kind of nonsense and so I don’t. But this time? This time it snuck in the backdoor, tiptoed around, and smacked me with such a stunning display of uncertainty that I was unnerved. So brazen!

I was tired the day of the assault, having played Let’s Pretend We’re Still In College the night before with one of my closest friends. To be fair, we solved most of the world’s problems after midnight so you can rest assured we’ll play again. But peeling my body out of bed the next morning wasn’t easy. And after three hours of work and at least as many Diet Pepsis, I was still a little groggy. When another friend showed up for lunch, I lamented my newfound uncertainty. With a sage smile my friend replied, “But you’re tired today. I always doubt myself when I’m tired.”

I’m quite sure I’ve never heard a better argument for getting a good night’s sleep!

Suggestions from a Seasoned Science Fair Mom

September 15, 2011academicsKirsetin

With two boys who’ve finished elementary school, and a third who appears to be on his way, I’ve attended my fair share of Science Fairs. If you’re at the front end of this grand adventure, allow me to offer a few tips:

1. Add some levity. When your precious pumpkin is designing his first science project, likely some sort of clay-and-Lego creation let him design away. Resist the urge to cut, paste, and suggest. Mmm, hmmm. I am proposing that you keep your mouth shut and stay out of it. Yes, the project will look like he made it out of clay and Legos. And, yes, he will be competing against the kids whose parents spent 3 weeks crafting something to demonstrate the Laws of Thermodynamics. No one likes these parents, especially the teachers. So go ahead and add a little levity—and reality—to the event by letting your child’s design look like what it’s meant to be: a child’s design. Trust me on this one. Your child will be much better off in the long run, and so very proud of himself, for doing this on his own.

2. Independent means independent already! A few years ago one of our boys entered a fancy Statistics Poster contests. There are all sorts of requirements and rules the kids have to follow to ensure that the thing is statistically accurate. Our son wanted to test whether a football would go farther when he threw it and punted it depending on its weight. “Too many variables,” we said. “You can’t make sure you kick it with the same strength every time. It’s not statistically accurate,” we moaned. The persistent bugger insisted, however, and away he went. He recorded the regular weight throw & kick distance. He let some air out and recorded the lighter weight throw & kick distance. Then, using an obviously kid-devised method, he duct taped a bag of rice to the football to see how adding weight would affect the kick and throw distance. (He also covered our entire cul-de-sac with rice, thanks to the broken bags, but hey, he got his data.) “Good luck,” we said, knowing how this would end. But we were wrong. Instead of getting tossed out for bad data, he was one of three winners of cold, hard cash. As for us, his statistically savvy parents? We learned an incredibly valuable lesson that day. It seems those professors know just what kids are capable of, and my guess is that they were thrilled to see duct tape put to such a fine, scientific use.

3. Let them have fun. Face it, moms. Science can be interesting and engaging, but how often do kids see it that way? For that matter, how often do we see it that way? To encourage your blossoming scientist, let her choose a project that has an element of fun and messiness. Miscible liquids and exploding volcanoes are two perennial favorites, volcanoes leading the pack by a mile. As you clean up the trial run, keep in mind that there are at least two goals with a Science Fair. One, of course, is for the kids to learn something about science. But the more important piece, at least for younger kids, is for them to enjoy the process. So let them get down and dirty, and foster the thought, if ever so brief, that science can be fun.

Bittersweet

September 14, 2011nostalgiaKirsetin

In a meeting the other day, several moms of young children were, well, complaining about the things mothers of young children tend to complain about: the sometimes excruciating boredom of playing dollies, the difficulty of potty-training, the trials at bedtime. I commented that before long, they’d miss these days.

Even as the words left my mouth, I knew they were pointless. What I really meant to say was, “Moms, hear me! I implore you to slow down and enjoy the present.” But I understand that when your child is small and you’re the center of their world that can be a tall order. Freedom feels like a memory from another life. It’s hard to imagine your little people growing big. It’s hard to comprehend that the day will come, swiftly, when they get their own lives and you’re not the center of their world anymore. You’re nowhere close. And the young moms, the ones who received my words, probably did a silent eye roll. They could hear me, these friends, but they couldn’t hear me.

I know because I have a hard time hearing this kind of counsel, too. When my oldest son was just entering middle school, I began hearing, “Oh, wait until he gets to high school. Those year just fly.” Since then, I’ve heard some variation of that refrain at least—at least!—a hundred times. Because I’ve been a parent for 15 years now I understand that these helpful souls are telling me the truth. But we’re at the beginning of the high school journey. Right now, it seems long and arduous. So although I hear them, these well-meaning moms of older kids, I don’t really hear them. I can’t. I’m too busy surviving and enjoying the day-to-day homework, soccer practice, soccer games, football practice, football games, social events (Powder Puff football!), groceries, writing, laundry, and friends that compose my world. My life.

When that same, now 15-year-old, son was born and they placed his tiny little self in my arms, the weight of parenting bore down upon me like the weight of the world. “It’s our responsibility,” I thought, “all of it.” The learning, the growing, the playing, the teaching; I was overwhelmed by the bigness of it all.

I struggled through those early months and when my baby could finally sit and splash in the tub, there was no greater joy. His smile, his laughter, his curiosity: I couldn’t get enough of him.

He grew bigger, and in the afternoons we’d sit in his room and read book after book, his small frame on my pregnant lap. Complete bliss.

“It goes so fast!” everyone warned. But it didn’t, then. The days were long and I was tired. I heard, but I didn’t hear.

He turned 6. Big brother to two, now, he was a classic first-born: helpful, bossy, and pretty darn sure he was right.

As he grew older, he tried all kinds of sports and liked soccer best of all. He read, early and often, and we spent more time in the library and more money buying books than I ever imagined. He fell in love with the Harry Potter books and read them so often that the bindings broke. He’s on his third set.

He’s also on his way to a Homecoming dance this weekend, with a girl. He bought a corsage and made sure his tie would coordinate with her dress.

A few days ago, a wise friend said to me, “Is there nothing in life that isn’t bittersweet?” And I heard her.

I heard her loud and clear.

Hang on moms, and try to hear her, too.