The Man at Dairy Queen

The lack of posts tells you that my type-A lawyer job has been keeping me quite busy.  But today, I had a chance to see what the Diva has been up to for the past few weeks.  And boy, did it shove my OCD into overdrive!
The truth is, the Diva is doing great.  She has joined a gym, her summer PCAs take her swimming, she is losing weight and she is being social.  She is happy and busy.  The hard part (for me) is that, when I ask her about her day, her explanations are somewhat limited and generally unreliable.  Yes, I have an example.

A few weeks ago, the Diva got a DQ giftcard from a teacher in honor of her graduation.  Tonight I asked her where the giftcard was.  She told me that she gave it to a man at Dairy Queen.  I asked her how much money was on it.  She said $2,000.00.

Uh huh.

I text her PCA, who tells me that the Diva told her one day, hey let's go to DQ - I have this gift card!  There was enough money that they went a few times.  But now the Diva can't find it, although the PCA thinks there wasn't much left.  For the faithful readers out there, I hate hate hate it when I lose things.  Multiply that by 10 when the Diva loses something.  But it gets better.

I then learn that the Diva lost her temporary membership card to the gym.  I asked the Diva where that card went.  She said she gave it to the man at Dairy Queen. 

This man at Dairy Queen is making out like a bandit, what with his membership to Lifetime and a $2,000 giftcard.

In the moment, when I'm trying to figure out what happened, these explanations make me want to scream, cry and otherwise shake the answers out of her.  Which is why I have to blog about them - to therapeutically help myself laugh about the Dairy Queen Man and my stupid insistence on caring about the expenditure of a (likely) $20 DQ giftcard. 

When I take a step back, I think how proud I am that the Diva used the giftcard in a socially appropriate way.  And how nice it is that the people at Lifetime were familiar enough with the Diva that they just gave her a new membership card without any fuss.  And how much the Diva has grown up.  By the time I'm done blogging, my frustration and "need to know" attitude is replaced with heavenly peace and a little bit of wine.

I mean, life is just too short to worry about whereabouts of a $1,980.00 DQ gift card... right?   

(A picture of my grown-up Diva from Prom 2013)

 

She Won!

We were getting pummeled.  It's play-off time in adapted hockey world, and since the Diva's team won zero games, we were pitted against the Victors of the South - top-seeded NP.  Our opponents were fast, agile and accurate.  They made goals from the opposite side of the gym.  They went after the puck with a vengeance.  They were trained to win, and win they did.  I think the score was something like 12-0 at the end of the first period.

It's not really the way you want to end the season, but as a wise coach once told me, only one team ends their season with a win.  And I had mentally prepared myself that it was going to be painful.  Our kids worked hard and did their best, but they were simply outmatched and everyone in the gym knew it.

Everyone, except the Diva.  The Diva was fired up.  This was her last game of her adapted hockey career, and she was hungry.  She banged her stick on the floor when she was in.  She went after the puck despite her significant size disadvantage.  She even stole the puck a few times - albeit from her teammate when he was bringing the puck down the court, but still. 

During the second period, we put in two goals of our own, and NP took out their ringers, so things evened out a bit.  I was very impressed with NP's coaches - they were respectful in their victory, and during the third period they told their big guy (the one making goals as a defensive player) that his job was to assist a lesser-skilled teammate in making a goal.  The kid could knock over a popcan with his shot, so for the last five minutes or so he sent her shot after shot after shot.  The puck hit her shoes, hit her stick, and although she didn't get it in the goal, everyone enjoyed watching him tirelessly try to give her that opportunity.  (Honestly, it didn't matter where he was on the court, he would shoot that puck within inches of her stick.  Amazing.)

Our coach put the seniors in for the last period, and I said to Husband, "Dear Lord, please let her make a goal."  But there wasn't much hope in the request.  And as the minutes ticked off to the end of her hockey seasons, I was more interested in watching to see if NP kid would get his assist. 

With a minute left, the puck made its way to the other end of the court.  All I remember was that Daughter was in front of the goal, and the puck seemed to fly in front of her, and I saw her stick move and the puck went in the goal.  And I asked the world in general, "Did Diva make that goal?"

I saw her fist go up, and her teammates start to applaud, and I realized the impossible had come true: Daughter made a goal against the #1 ranked team in the South.  In perfect dramatic fashion, she culminated two years of adapted hockey by making her first goal in the last minute of the last game of her career.  I was crying, and apparently other people were too, including parents from the other side who saw how ecstatic the Diva was with her accomplishment.  In the most unlikely of situations, God lined up the circumstances and reminded me that All Things are Possible.  When the horn blew, you would never had known we just lost 19-3 - the team hugged the Diva, fans from both sides congratulated her, and through it all she kept saying, "I won!"

On the way home, I thought about the Diva and the miracle that she is.  She is always surprising me.  It isn't that I have low expectations of the Diva (I'm a Tiger mom, remember?) - it's that I've watched her for two years, and during that time she has only attempted a handful of goals.  Usually it's stolen long before she gets close enough to take a shot, and whenever she does shoot, it is light enough that the goalie easily makes a save.  She was at the exact right place at the precise right time to be blessed with a fairy-tale ending. 

So go forth, and keep hoping.  Miracles happen when we least expect them - maybe tomorrow your autistic child will initiate a hug, or your nonverbal child will speak, or your typical teenager will say thank you.  It's these little Big things that get us through the down days, so rejoice with me!

You can see the Diva's pink shorts as her team hugs her after the buzzer.

Each diva in this picture made a goal tonight!

The happy Diva.

Senior Pictures

The Diva's Senior Pictures are at Twin Cities Home Repair because Wordpress allows ones to password protect a post.  Amber Shuey did a great job!

Sparkler Exhibition Season

 The Diva has been practicing for months with her fellow Sparklers. They had three exhibition events, where the team performed their own adapted version of a cheer team routine. I had to watch the first to performances on Husband's phone, so I was very excited to see the Diva perform Live!

The event was at the Roy Wilkins Auditorium, for a very full house. The girls perform in the middle of the arena, with bright lights and every eye following the team's every move. I wondered, would the Diva be nervous when she saw all the people?

The team cheered "GO SPARKLERS!" behind the stage, and as the house lights came up, the Diva ran to her spot and waved to her fans! I giggled with relief.  Nerves were not going to be a problem! 


The Diva was grinning from ear to ear throughout the routine.  First, the team does a dance routine.

Then they do a cheer - the Diva gets to use the bullhorn, which is half as big as she is!

At some point each girl gets to "tumble," and while one girl can do cartwheels and backwards somersaults, the rest do something that looks like a burpie.

 
They end with a pyramid.

 

And then they take advantage of their captive audiences!

Yes, I cried.  I am so happy the Diva could be part of this group - she shines as she cheers with her friends.  I am so proud of her performance - the girl that needs to "speak up" was yelling at the top of her lungs!  And when I see the Sparkler's ability to change the room, to see an entire auditorium cheering because they support what's on stage - oh yes, I cried.

Thank you to the high school cheerleaders and advisors who donated their time to coach, mentor, and befriend my Diva.  She loved being a Sparkler.

As the team walked off the floor, she turned around and blew a kiss.  What a Diva!

Tiger Mom on a Down Day

Every since my post about the Diva's Up Day, I have been somewhat frightened for the other shoe to drop.

Well, today it dropped.

When I came downstairs this morning, I was greeted by a somewhat disheveled Diva. She was wearing a purple sports bra, which generally isn't a bad thing except today she was wearing it underneath a white t-shirt. She was also wearing a pair of blue jeans that were several sizes too big...because they were a pair of MY blue jeans! Of course, she didn't notice - or care - but she obediently trudged back upstairs for a wardrobe change.

These types of things don't both normal people. They certainly don't bother Husband. But they bug the hell out of me. Why? First, because I'm a Tiger Mom. I haven't read Amy Chua's book "Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother" yet, but I read a review somewhere, and I still remember the moment I learned that my crazy, perfectionist parenting style had a name. According to Wikipedia, a "Tiger Mother" is a mother who is a strict disciplinarian, who adheres to traditional, strict child-rearing versus a more indulging, self-esteem-focused approach. In my case, take a crazy, perfectionist parent and add some obsessive compulsive tendencies - viola! You have a Tiger Mom on crack.

I tried to prepare myself that the Diva was having a Down day, so her soccer game would likely suffer a bit. But her lackluster kicks and lazy jogging was too much for her Tiger mom to handle, down day or not.

"DIVA, YOU GET GOING OUT THERE!" I heard myself yell. During warm-ups. A startled Diva added a little bit of effort for about thirty seconds, then reverted back to her amoeba movements. She looked lost. She was one of the captains in coin toss - how cool is that? - but she wasn't into it. After the coin toss, she sat way down on the end of the bench, away from her teammates. I hissed at Husband to tell her to sit with the rest of the team (my own Jed Rubenfeld). He complied in a nice, normal and pleasant tone of voice.

The first half of the game was agonizing for me. Daughter was back in her small three foot box. She wouldn't leave no matter how loud I yelled/pleaded/begged for her to RUN TO THE BALL! There was a moment where she chased the ball into the corner, and a large boy chasing the ball somehow slid and tripped underneath her, such that the untrained eye might think my little Diva shoved the boy over. I felt a wave of pride wash over me. But it soon passed as the boy ran away with the ball, probably to score yet another goal.

So there I was during the second half of the game, thinking to myself, how am I going to pull out some genuine mom approval here? Do I just plain lie and say she did a great job when it is apparent that she is playing far below her average performance? Do I praise her attitude and avoid the skills conversation? Do I tell her she looks great in her uniform? When all of a sudden, a big kid kicked the ball hard - directly into the Diva's gut.

Now, keep in mind the soccer ball is a nerf, sponge-like thing. There was no way the Diva could be seriously hurt, and besides, she basically blocked what was likely another goal. Like any good (Tiger) mom, I cheered as loud as I could, "GOOD JOB!!! WAY TO STOP THE BALL!!!"

The Diva just looked pissed.

She grabbed her side a few times, obviously annoyed that such a thing had happened to her. I yelled encouraging things like, "YOU'RE FINE! YOU'RE A TOUGH GIRL!" During a time out, when Diva was looking at me, I pantomimed holding my side and rubbing it, as if I had been hit by a soccer ball. She started giggling and said, "Mother! What are you doing?" Then I pantomimed to Husband to rub my tummy, and Daughter said, "NO! I'm fine!" We all laughed.

Wouldn't you know, it happened to her AGAIN! She got in the way of a goal-bound ball, I cheered as loud as I could, Daughter looked pissed. And when the coaches asked if she was alright, I held my breath...and sighed with relief when she nodded that she was fine. At the end of the game, I stormed the floor and gave her a big hug. I asked her if she was alright. She smiled, laughed, and said "Yes, I'm tough."

And they say Tiger parenting doesn't work...

An Up Day

Today was an Up Day.

Every so often, the Diva has a "Down" day. Husband and I made up the phraseology to get me through those mornings where no amount of prodding, pushing or threatening could get the Diva to move faster, follow directions better, or even generally comprehend what I was telling her. I'm sure we all have Down days here and there, but in a Diva the contrast is amazing. For 30 consecutive days she will independently dress herself, make herself breakfast, and be ready for the bus in 90 minutes tops. And then one morning, you will find she put her shirt on inside-out, she made herself a marshmallow based breakfast, and the bus is waiting at the end of the driveway while she tries to get her shoes on the correct feet. Those days are the worst.

But today is a happy day - today was an Up Day.

My first glimpse of Up-Day-Daughter was at her soccer game. Last week we had a little chat about keeping your eyes on the court, and not on your "fans" (a boy who graduated last year was at the game, and she was smiling at him 99% of the time she was on the court...I told her in the car that if she did that again, I would most certainly yell across the gym for her to "STOP LOOKING AT THAT BOY!" She promised me it wouldn't happen again). We also encouraged her to run to the ball. Thus far, her participation has been limited to a 3 foot square that she guards with her life, or until another player runs full-speed at her, then she gets out of the way.

But today, she was a lean, mean, Diva-machine.

We were playing last year's state champions (for context, last year we didn't win a single game). Their players were mostly huge boys, who kicked the ball so hard it would fly through the air and hit the end wall at least 10 feet above the ground. I was a little concerned about my sweet, passive Diva being on the floor. What if she was beaned in the head, or was run over by Big Foot?

I had nothing to worry about. Tonight, she was all about kicking that ball. She must have kicked the ball down the court at least a dozen times. She left her square and pursued the ball. She pursued the ball even when big boys were bearing down upon her. And at the end of the game, she actually seemed a little disappointed that it was over! As the girl who fouled-out of every basketball game her 8th grade year, I was ecstatic about her aggressive attitude, and praised her improvements in the car.

Then, as we were chatting about her day, Daughter told me the entire story that she read in school that day. It was about a family of bears with surprise seeds. Instead of flowers, squash grew. The brother bear made fun of the bear, and he was sad. But then then mother bear cooked the squash, and it was Yummy! For Daughter to be able to recall, and then retell, a story with that much detail - I was amazed. I gushed again at the great day she was having, and then she said, "I talked loud today," which is another skill we are working on...for her to offer that little tidbit made me want to cry.

And here's the kicker. Daughter had such an Up Day, such a super-steller day, but none of it really mattered to her. What she enjoyed the most was all my gushing over her. Her bedtime prayer was essentially, "Thank you for my mother. I love her so much. World's best mom."

There is a deeper lesson here - along the lines of, a mother's praise is the best prize of all, and that maybe I should be a little more generous with it. But I'm a Tiger Mom, and today is a day for reveling in my Diva's improvement and success. She's come a long way, and I'll need the memory of this day the next time we hit a Down spell.

Talking to God

It is a family joke that the Diva has supernatural powers to see the future - or at the very least, that her prayers are given extra weight. Tonight, I asked her whether we were going to end up getting the house we bid on earlier this evening. She said she didn't know. I asked her whether she had talked to God about it. She said yes.

Naturally, without missing a beat, I asked her what he said.

In her God voice, which sounds a lot like her Santa Claus voice, she said, "Yes, you should buy the house."

I stared and whispered, "Did God really say that?"

She smiled and said No.

Dang it. Maybe if I shake her a few times, like a Magic 8 ball...