Skate Mom

We've become acquainted with the parents of two of the littlest skaters from the rink. The Dad is a hockey guy, and the Mom is a real skater. (Real skaters can do jumps and spins. They know the names of the stuff they do, too. Most of our rink's Skate Moms are not real skaters. We generally are content to live vicariously through our children in this instance.) Last week they entered a Family Spotlight event at the Worlds competition that had a certain silliness with Dad playing the role of Darth Skater and Mom as a floral-robed Jedi Master with her two wildly careening and spinning little floral-patterned Paduwan learners. It was a cute piece relating to the reality that hockey and figure skaters do not always play well with one another that ended happily with Darth Skater gliding off hand in hand with the uber-girly figure skating Jedis as a Star Wars theme played. Those little skater girls will forever have the very cool memory of skating with their parents at the World Team Championships.

Since skating is a central part of our own Skater Girl's world, the mister and I are joining her on the ice. We will not be joining her in a competition setting. She will be skating with her friends in their advanced weekly workshop while Mom and Dad will be joining the Adult Intro to Skating class further down the ice surface. Okay, we'll get on the ice half way through the first class. Or maybe the second class. Either way, it's a step toward better understanding what our girl does almost every day.

Our class registration includes open skate passes so we can join the lovies when they go to skate for fun. Best of all, the kids seem genuinely pleased by our plan to join them rather than continuing to watch from our rink side seats. The mister will likely match Middle Child's skill level in a reasonable amount of time, and they will lap me over and over again while Skater Girl does little spins around them in turn. That's acceptable. This mama just wants to leave the sideline seats and join in the fun- even if the fun is really, really slow.  I suspect Darth Skater and Jedi Master Mom will be tickled to learn that they served as an inspiration to finally sign up for that introductory class, too.

Questioning

Last night, the Waits came to dinner. Despite a coffee with Laura during one of Skater Girl's Saturday workshops and a trip to the rink for the Waits offspring to skate, there was much to catch up on and discuss. Even with the evaporation of hours, it seems like we scarcely touched the tip of the conversational iceberg. Not unlike a doctor's appointment, there were many questions regarding their ministry in Puerto Lempira that went unasked as well as tidbits about their family, daily life, and mutual friends and acquaintances. (That can all be fodder for e-mail and blog surfing in the future.) The dangers of too little time, and the best sort of visit that leaves one wishing for more at the close.

One of those intriguing topics with Laura was her questioning why people sometimes feel the need to trot out justifications for purchases, possessions, behaviors, etc. with her. (Ah, my humble friend...) She isn't the sort of puffed-up person to recognize how the comparable lack of material things in the family's life challenges those who know them. It's not that they do not wish for, enjoy, or acquire stuff, but they did sell everything to head off to the relative wilds in service to others. Shedding the creature comforts and excesses inherent in an area that has been relatively unscathed by the recent economic downturn is going to bring about some justification. Justification not born of any real or imagined judgment on Laura's part necessarily, but out of questions that one might ask oneself when faced with the cost in time, money, and energy to maintain the suburban dream while seeking Christ.

This opinion is formed of experience in giving consideration to life and priorities between their home and our own. Having known the family in their American Dream achieving days and experiencing some of the trepidation felt by Laura regarding the transition to their big adventure, there is much to admire in the changes they chose to embrace on discovering God's call. Comparison of the relative cost of a child's sponsorship providing education and basic necessities to the far more frivolous expenses of a pretty dress for Middle Child or the scheduled time devoted to the rink with the fluid daily work of Reach Out Honduras helps to put our use of resources in a perspective that can be lost in the bounty of Plenty. By living with Enough (or less), the Waits gift our family (and apparently others) with the opportunity personal examination in a light that can bring about purposeful giving, personal appreciation of what one possesses, and temperance of excess.

Homecoming

In case Gentle Reader is unaware: High School Football in Texas is a BIG deal. The annual Homecoming Football Game and Dance are an even bigger deal--- even for those who aren't particularly enthralled with the score board. Middle Child rarely misses a game, but eclipsing her enthusiasm for the Friday Night Lights is the topic on many of the high schoolers' minds over the last few weeks: who has a date and who doesn't for the Homecoming events.

Middle Child planned initially to go with a group of friends, but that plan was out the window when she was asked to be Comedy's Homecoming date. Middle Child and Comedy exchanged the traditional mum and garter on Thursday night. They wore their Homecoming Bling to school on Friday and to the Varsity game Friday night. Saturday followed with a dance at the high school. Comedy scored big points for the little things like opening the car door and bigger things like confirming the time Middle Child was expected home.

That's a friendly arm around Middle Child. MC suspects the boy was trying to avoid touching skin in front of the 'rents. I suspect that is quite probable.

Comedy walked Middle Child to the door after the dance. (I made enough noise from my perch on the sofa for it to be extra-obvious that I was waiting up just in case there was any question in their minds.) While they were out, the mister and I had ordered prints of the pre-dance photos and picked up copies for Comedy to share with his family. He took his photos, and away he went.
Middle Child proceeded to describe every aspect of her first "real" dance. (The ones in middle school involved herds of girls dressing up in theme outfits. That's not quite the same.) It's probably better that I didn't know before she left that kids at her school are "known for grinding". (*Choke. Gag...* Do I dare ask?! Wondering is probably worse than knowing.) She doesn't see the expression on Mom's face, which is likely turning a very unflattering shade of horrified, because she's rummaging through the fridge. As her one-sided conversation continues, Middle Child mentions that she didn't grind. (OhholyhallelujahthankyouJesus.) She sounds genuinely disgusted with the practice while also fascinated that the teachers didn't do anything about it besides looking embarrassed. She did mention that, "Comedy kept wanting to slow dance." And she was fine with slow dancing, but she really liked the fast dancing because it was so much fun with all her friends. (And I'm feeling really okay with slow dancing after the near-trauma of even hearing the word, "grinding," pass over the lips of my daughter. I don't particularly care if the fast dancing comment was possibly for my benefit.) It sounds like a good night without anything that would make a mother cringe. Whew.

Tragedy and Comedy

Middle Child started high school this Fall. She whined and complained about taking Technical Theatre, but she will need a fine art credit for graduation, so she was stuck in the class. The first day MC came home and recounted with horror that Tech Theatre was a whole class of guys, a mute girl, our girl, and a Queen Bee mean girl. Two weeks later, our whiny girl is gushing about her favorite class of the whole day: Technical Theatre. There are the funniest boys in there. Hahahaha. Mmmhmm. There are two names repeated often, but we'll just call them Tragedy and Comedy.

She spends a weekend texting back and forth with Tragedy relating selected texts to me, and we end up in a department store because the topic of the texts is homecoming. She's going to need a dress for the dance if she has a, gulp, date, and she will still need a dress if she goes as planned with a group of friends. She tries on the first dress, but it's ho-hum at best. The second one is cute, but it's a little snug on her so Mom dutifully goes out and returns with the next size up. The dress is perfect on her. She inserts in her message to the boy that she just got her dress. Tragedy asks if she would say, "Yes!" if Comedy asked her to homecoming. Eh?
Before she responds, I explain that Tragedy may have been chatting her up to pave the way for his friend. (It happens. No one likes to be shot down, but, on the other hand, it would stink to go to one of the big events of the school year with someone who would just as soon go with someone else.) I then ask if she would be interested in going to homecoming specifically with Tragedy, or if she might want to go with Comedy. (I also warn her that this could be a trick question, so she waits a moment to answer him while considering the many possibilities.) She gives a careful, noncommittal response that leaves either avenue open without sounding like jerk.
That same night, Tragedy nearly causes a fire in his kitchen trying to get a homecoming invite into a fortune cookie. This seems significant because the week before, Middle Child had posted her fortune from another cookie on her Facebook page. (Facebook would be one of the easiest places to get clues about her for a guy who has had limited opportunity to figure out her likes and dislikes.) He specifically asked her if she liked fortune cookies in the intervening days, so it's looking increasingly likely that a homecoming invitation from Tragedy is forthcoming. She will probably say, "Yes." Even though she has heard that Comedy likes her, he has not been texting as much as Tragedy.

Monday dawns, and she (Well, we... I hope I'm not one of those creepy moms who is way too into her kids' lives...) anticipates that the day will bring a homecoming invitation. It doesn't because Tragedy gives what may well have been a custom invite for our girl to another girl with the same name two class periods before he sees our girl. His thin explanation is that he, "...freaked out, and [he] thought, she'd shoot him down." Really?! Tragedy is now marked, "Clearly Unworthy" after this disappointment. Comedy was absent, but it gives Middle Child a day to think about whether she just wants to go to the game and dance with her friends, or if perhaps Comedy is going to ask her.
The next day, in the Drama Room, Comedy delivers a note asking if Middle Child will go to homecoming with him. (He manages to give the note intended for her to her, so he's already looking pretty good in Mom's book.) She accepts. Butting in, I also mention to her that it would be wise to simply rewrite Tragedy's plans assuming that he gave his invitation to the girl he really liked. In accepting Comedy's invitation, she needs to be sure she's not even a little moony-eyed over Tragedy. She appears to have accepted this advice along with the date. So, now it's on with the show.