The Breakout Interview

July 2012

Yesterday when I picked Addison up at her Serra Sport Camp (San Mateo, CA) I got a little tingle. I know, it’s crazy – hundreds of kids come to camp here and hundreds of kids attend high school here. But I still get the feeling like I’m standing on scared ground – somewhere someone famous lived. Maybe some of Tom Brady’s mojo will rub off on her, I think. But then, I realized I got a tingly feeling for another reason: My dream: The dream “Breakout Interview.”

A year or two ago I had a dream that Tom Brady granted me the opportunity to interview him. I got to ask him questions that no other interviewer was allowed to ask him: about Gisele, about the knee surgery. He talked to me on the football field at night under the lights. He drove a red porche and I got to ride as a passenger. And none of this was a big deal because, well, it’s my job. My breakout interview was then sold to Sports Illustrated and I became a sports journalist, made lots of money and paid off my house. Goodbye teaching!

But then, the article, “Tom Brady As You Forgot Him,” by Michael Rosenberg came out. That article wrote about Brady’s experiences at Michigan. Damn that Michael Rosenberg. Stealing my dream. I’d have to think of new content.

My other dream, fantasy really, happens when I’m teaching – up in front of the class – and Tom Brady shows up out of the blue to grant me that dream interview. We’d sit in 2 desks in front of the class and I would do my best Linda Cohn. The kids would all whip out their phones, record it, and post it on YouTube. I’d become a sensation. I’d go on the Today show, but I wouldn’t – I’d boycott the Today show because they fired Anne Curry. I’d say that the only way I’d go on is if they put Anne Curry on special assignment to interview me and Matt douche bag Lauer could be no where on the set. Then, I’d make money and pay off my house.

But in this dream, if Tom Brady were to show up, I’d really have to have my game on. I’d have to be current on what he’s recently said to the media (after all just recently when a reporter asked him about having another child, he said he likes practicing) but I’d have an advantage because I would ask him questions about parenting, questions that a man like Michael Rosenberg wouldn’t know to ask, but I’d also have to be cautious of how much he’d share with an amateur.

Here’s my FAKE interview why Tom Brady: All content is fiction.

How are you? How is the knee, the shoulder? Do you feel it when the weather turns cold? 

Chuckles, the knee is fine. I’m healthy.

But do you feel it when it gets cold. You live in Boston.

Sometimes.

So, you’re in town to play the Niners. How do you feel about that? 
Well, I grew up a Niners fan so I have great respect for that organization. But I have a job to do.

Are you scared of our defense? Come on, they’re big! 

Heh heh, No, there’s no room for scared in football. Besides, I have great protection and these guys are the best. We go out to eat once a week together to keep the front line stay unified.

I really liked that article in Sports Illustrated by Michael Rosenberg because it reminded people that success is a long road. You weren’t an overnight sensation. Persistence, determination and commitment are key. These are all things I tell my students, and my own kids. When you think back to high school and then to your days at Michigan, how did you know to keep going? What told you to keep going? Now, I’m assuming here that you had a supportive father, but not one who pushed you says like Andre Agassi’s father. Were there ever those days when you thought, “Maybe not.”? 

Well, I think deep down I had skills that kept developing and I believe just like any other kid that I could do it. Michigan was difficult because I knew I could play, I wanted to play, but politics were also a big part of that. Sure there were dark days. I definitely questioned my ability. But that’s when you really have to know yourself and know your ability and keep trying. If one avenue is blocked, then go another direction. I had very supportive people around me. But supportive is different than people who want you to do well so they can make a buck. You have to have supportive people around you who are good at heart and I have those. Still do.

Recently, in the NFL there has been a lot of talk of brain injury and concussions. Did you suffer any concussions when you played high school ball? And, what would you tell these high schoolers here about injury? Or better, what advice would you give their mothers? 

(Tom shifts position in the tiny high school desk he can barely sit in).

Ooh. Great question. I can’t lie and never say that I haven’t had a concussion. It does happen. I’ve been very fortunate to play with guys who do a great job of protecting me. I have had my share of injuries. But I am an extremely competitive person. It is sometimes hard to know when to pull back to let my body heal. The rules are changing and there’s more research being done on brain injuries. For a mother, I would say that it’s important for the football team to have a trainer at every practice and a doctor at every game. I would say that it’s important to teach young people to give honest answers when they are being assessed by a doctor. And it’s important that there’s a culture that’s supportive if someone is hurt and that you don’t make fun of them for being hurt. I want my boys to be tough, but not stupid.

How has parenting changed you for the better as a son, husband and football player?

I think it has changed my perspective on priorities. And it reminds me to take time and enjoy.

It seems here in the Bay Area competition is fierce and that parents want their kids to participate in one sport year round – and take a language and learn an instrument. But I see as a high school teacher those kids peaking at age 16 – plagued by injury.  Not all the time, but it happens. What do think about parents who are pushing their kids or rather making their kids focus on one sport at a young age? I know I want my kids to peak at age 21, not at age 12. Like right now, I love that Serena won an age 30. And Natalie Coughlin is going to the Olympics and that Dana Torres at age 45 gave it another shot. 

Well, parents always mean well. I played lots of sports when I was young. It helps develop you as a well-rounded athlete and adult. You can learn about life through every sport.

 Will you train them year round in several sports? 

Gosh. Haven’t even thought about it. Right now we’re into the sport of potty training.

Oh right. For boys. That’s messy. 

You have no idea.
(students laugh)

When your boys are older, you can call me and vent about how ridiculous parents are these days. Or rather, how ridiculous the institutions are that allow kids in elementary school to practice more than one day a week or that All-Stars means 5 games in a weekend for 7 year-olds.

So, you’re going to let your boys play football? At what age will you let them play with pads? 

It depends what the school rule is, we’ll probably follow that. My dad didn’t let me play until I was 14, so I’d probably do the same.

So in terms of parenting, sometimes my husband and I disagree over things like, they need to finish their plate before they leave the table, or we had quite a discussion about our daughter playing on the softball all-stars team. Any parenting styles that you find challenging? 

What was your discussion about the All-Star team?

Well, she made the team. But I was leery of the commitment. I had heard that for a month they play a tournament every weekend. They travel. They have practice 2 times a week. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. My husband wanted her to play so she could develop her skills. I told him to go to the meeting, but I wasn’t going to do any of it: not volunteering, not bringing snacks, and not sitting in the dugout. 

Harsh.

I know, right? But in the end I said, it’s too much for a 7 year old. If we want her to develop, she can go to a sports clinic. He eventually agreed. And we both agree, we made the right decision to have her not play. I felt really good about that decision. 

Good. I bet it was hard to go against the culture.

A little bit. But we’re a happy family who enjoyed that summer. Who’s the disciplinarian in your family? 

Gisele. Definitely.

What athletes do you admire right now, currently – athletes that you look to or rather talk to for inspiration? 

You know, I admire Derek Jeter and Kobe Bryant; but really, when I get into the community and meet people who have gone through a particularly challenging time in their lives, I think of them and how blessed I am to play this sport at this level for as long as I have.

 Well, I know you have two sons, how do you maintain balance in their lives as well as your own. And I mean balance at that age is how you divide time with all four (now five) of you, time with just you, just Gisele. Teaching them normal things, vacations etc. How do you do it? Please tell me you have help. Because sometimes I can barely do it myself and I’m just a working mom. 

We do have help. Gisele found someone who she really likes and she helps with the kids and that kind of stuff.

Do grandparents visit you or do you visit them? 

We do both and sometimes we vacation together.  We don’t get back to San Mateo often, but it’s always refreshing when we do.

Okay, big game on Sunday. What is your preparation routine and how has it changed over the years? Any sleeping?  I know that Lebron James now reads books before games to quiet his mind. Anything like that?

Hehh hehh… I just get really focused and into the zone. I read the play book.

Okay, final question: What’s the last book you read? And anything you would recommend to these high schoolers? 

Oh gosh, we’ve been reading a lot of books to the little guys, Good Night Gorilla, Good Night Moon.

(Here I would hope he would launch into a speech about the importance of reading and to continue reading when out of school.)

Well, thank you so much for stopping by Mr. Brady! 

My pleasure.

These answers were not intended harm Tom and Gisele. Some answers were based off of previous interviews. After all, I really do want to interview him. Maybe he’ll read this and say that my answers won’t be too far off. Until then, I’ll have to live with the tingly feeling every time I’m at Serra High School.

Oh la la

This weekend my husband took our girls down to Southern Cal to visit his parents. This left me with…well, with myself for a full three days. A working mom doesn’t often have time to clear her head, but that’s what I did this weekend. (I also did about 8 hours of grading papers, but no one wants to hear about that.) I spent a lot of time contemplating. I contemplated about how I would be a better wife, what I needed to make me a better wife (more alone time). And then, because I had ample time to watch the news, I pondered what would happen in Wisconsin and then what would happen in Egypt. Finally, after all that, “head clearing” I had a memory. I must have been thinking about teenage girls, self-confidence and identity because I found myself asking the question, “Was there anyone whom I dated (at a high school age) that made me break the (my parents) rules?” And wham my memory flashes back: It was the summer between my junior and senior year in high school. I was on Put-in-Bay under that tree near Perry’s Monument making out with "Mike," a sophomore in college, at 11pm at night. I knew in my head he wanted us to miss that last ferry ride back to the mainland; he was pretty suave, but I wouldn’t have it. Back to my alone time, and I’m thinking, what happened to “Mike?” So, I first searched on Facebook – it’s not hard to find someone if you know the college the person attended -- in 2 seconds there was a picture of Mike. Then I Googled. Then there was video of him speaking! He’s a congressman! Watching him talk made all these memories just funnel back into my head. I have a high EQ and I can literally remember a conversation we had on that date. I Googled some more. Wow! But those details aren’t really the point of my blog today.

As an adult whose fairly new to social networking and even the Internet. (I often forget I can get anything there; for example, a Snooki wig for Halloween). Having someone’s image and then voice pop up on a living room computer is mind-boggling. But that’s not really the point of this either. The point is, how does one digest all that information? And, what do you do with that information? Contact the person? No. Nothing, unless there’s a point to contacting and there isn’t. But the important part is… what was I thinking?! Why didn’t I date this guy longer???!!! No, just kidding. The important part is, it helps reaffirm where I fit in this world and that things have happened for a reason and somewhat according to a plan. Would I have made a good congressman’s wife? No. I am much too honest. I remember it was Mother’s Day weekend and I was home from college. Mike was in town and he wanted to take me out. I kept politely declining, “No, we’re having a family dinner, No this, No that.” Finally, I said, “Mike, stop asking. Stop calling me.” So no, I would have not made a good congressman’s wife – they would have had to put me through all kinds of “be polite” and “this-is-how-you-answer-a-political-question”-etiquette classes. Plus he never would have moved to California.

My college boyfriend? Well, he’s now a chef at a top restaurant in Chicago. I Googled him a while back too. Creeper, I know. He took some searching, but I really wanted to find out if he even graduated college – that part I didn’t find out. Another boy I dated is an acquisition and merger lawyer. Probably lives in a big house in warm Menlo Atherton. And another one is a lawyer, who worked in a governor’s office, but he got himself into a bit of trouble. It wouldn’t have worked out with him anyway, because his mother’s comment was, “You’re dating a Yank?” Would I have wanted to be a lawyer’s wife? They work too many hours and I probably wouldn’t be able to teach. I’d be a pent-up angry-stay-at-home mom. My point is that we all spent our twenties searching, wondering what would happen, how would we all end up? And now, we’re getting some of those answers, not by running into a person, like I thought I would, but by the Internet.

Does it make me regret? Nope. Not one bit. The only thing I wish is what Rod Stewart says in the song, “Oh la la.” He sings, “I wish I knew what I know now when I was younger.” In your twenties, it’s so difficult if not impossible to see the whole picture. That’s what is so great about getting older. Clarity. It’s a gift: I am here right where I am supposed to be: my heart is in San Francisco, my two beautiful daughters are with their awesome dad on their way home right now. I always wanted to teach English. I am here, making a go of it. Just trying to be the best teacher, co-worker, friend, mom, wife, and person I can be. Knowing where everyone else is just helps keep me grounded.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=--HaFAtC17U

My seniors 2009

My Seniors 2009

A few weeks ago, after school was out I had to run into my classroom to make sure I had properly taken care of my refrigerator. The school was dark, empty, quiet. As I walked down the lonely hall and looked at the classroom doors, I missed my co-workers – it seemed odd that I was at school and they were not. It seemed everyone should be in his/her assigned room busily working. But it is summer now and school has been out a week. I was curious to see how my classroom would look – had the janitors been in yet? Were things moved around? Floors finally cleaned? Who was I fooling? Most everything was in its place – posters from our last unit were up, a few last minutes signs about summer reading were up. And of course, all the pictures and good-bye notes my seniors had left me were up. Then it hit me --they are really gone.

In my last 10 years of teaching, never I have I felt such passion for an entire class of students. “Some years are just like that,” my mom (a former teacher and administrator) said. I don’t know if these kids were different because they reminded me so much of my own senior class or because I saw how much affection and support they gave each other. The boys were not afraid to hug, or poke, or tap or push or pat and then hug some more. “He’s my brother,” they would say, “I’ve know him forever.” This year was different and because I left the 2009 school year with such fond memories, I thought I should get it down in writing because budget cuts are looming, class sizes will be rising and next year’s senior class has very big shoes to fill.

What is so admirable about this class is their heart. After reading their personal essays for college and reading their parent interview biography essays, I knew my students’ stories and their parents’ stories. So many had lost a parent at a young age; so many had a parent who suffered from cancer or another ailment; so many felt the bitter pain of their parents’ divorce; so many had parents who came to this country with nothing except the hope for a better life and education. And all of them, continued on with school, with extra-curriculars, with life without missing a beat and without complaining.

The rapport with these students laid its foundation their freshman year – I taught a couple of the freshman honors classes. They thought they were smart and I thought they needed to achieve much more as honor students. “Mrs. Murphy, don’t you remember freshman year, you asked me about my book The Diary of Anne Frank in front of the whole class? I was nervous and couldn’t answer a question and you didn’t think I read the book?!”

“I was really hard on you guys, I expected a lot.”

“It’s okay Mrs. Murphy. I like you now,” she said. But there were also the quirks that a particular class creates to make it memorable. In the 5th period freshman class, there was the bikini-clad Misha Barton picture that they had cut out. The TV show The OC was big back then, and we all watched it. She became our mascot, a character in our classroom during The Odyssey – would Misha make a good Penelope? Romeo and Juliet – no way Misha’s listening to that friar. But then, my principal attended a meeting that was being held in my room and Misha had to come down. He didn’t quite see the connection. Two years later, when they became juniors, I taught 3 very full classes. My 6th period was famous around school – 22 boys 11 girls. Holy moley. Just at the end of they day, when I was tired (and still sleep deprived from baby #2) I would have to psych myself up to teach this very loud, very active class. It was a challenge because I didn’t want the quieter, on-task girls to get over shadowed and at the same time I needed to funnel the boys’ energy in a positive way. Some how, I managed and they seemed to learn. By the end of spring semester, my classes were jamming. Out of the classroom, I watched how this junior class transformed itself into leaders for their upcoming senior year: They were determined to make their senior year great. And they did.

They motivated people to show up – to games, to dances, to volunteer events. On Fridays (red & white days) my entire senior class would be a sea of red. It was so cool. But what was special about these seniors that deepened my connection with them is that they were persistent in invading my space. My cell phone banner name was changed numerous times; the desktop picture on my computer was always changing to a picture of them; my down time at school was invaded with them coming to hang out in my classroom; and they invaded my spirit by tearing down my walls. On pressing matters, I could never say no to them, which by the way is my favorite word. “Murphy, I need your 2nd period class to be part of a dance video for the homecoming dance on BTV. Can we do it?” There I was dancing--for God’s sake-- leading my 2nd period in a conga line to promote the homecoming dance. My co-worker joked that I was becoming a Super Senior.

“Murphy, we need you to be a swing dance partner for the rally, will you do it?” Ugh.. Seriously? I did it.

“Murphy, we need you to play “shoot out” at the indoor rally. Will you do it?” Basketball? Really? I can’t shoot a basketball. But, I did it. Everyone enjoyed giving me a hard time for the half-court granny shot. As a teenager, I would have died inside, but now, who cares? They took my picture during that rally and hung it up on the Rally Bulletin board. I autographed it.

The last favor was the ultimate sacrifice for me, “Murphy, we need teachers to play basketball for the Hoops for Hope game against Carlmont.”

“Like in a real game? Full court?” Are you kidding me? I haven’t played basketball since 8th grade. “Ma-lissa git out of da key!” The PE teacher would yell. And I would think, “What in the hell is they key?” But, I rose to the occasion. I learned that when I’m on offense, I don’t play defense. It was awful, but I did it. I guess that’s what’s great about getting older, you can make a fool out of yourself doing something and your kids will respect you for it – ‘cause there ain’t no way they are going to make a half-court granny shot. They forced me out of my comfort zone and made me laugh almost every day.

Early in the school year, their enthusiasm to play in the 2nd period volleyball tournament could not be stopped. Even when the refs started to give us a hard time, the boys calmed down and had nothing but a respectful team spirit. I bought copies of a team picture and gave it to every student in the class. When my daughter was sick and I had to stay home with her, I received a text that said, “This sub sucks.” When I attended the boys’ basketball tournament game, they chanted my name. Yes, in the Santa Clara University gymnasium with my two daughters around me, they chanted: “Murph-y, Murph-y.” I thought well, this is the first time my name has been chanted at a sporting event.

At the end of the school year, I was assigned to “work” graduation, but I actually looked forward to it. Honestly, during the entire graduation– lining up, the procession, and the ceremony -- I couldn’t stop smiling. I was and am so proud of all of them. One student stopped his friend after he received his diploma, gave him a manly hug and whispered to him, “I love you man. Thanks for being there for me.” They did their handshake and I was touched. “Murphy, are you crying? Hey, Murphy’s crying.”

“I am not crying, people. This is a happy time. Shhhh.”

Afterwards, I was delighted to see how many wanted their picture taken with me. At my high school graduation, I don’t remember wanting my picture taken with any teacher (except one). Who wants to be around adults? When I was their age, I sure didn’t. I never wanted to grab a sandwich and go hang out in a teacher’s room, but they do. I never would have gone up to a teacher who was chaperoning a dance to say hello, but they do.

In August, when school starts up again, I will miss their energy when they come bouncing into my class.

“Can I run out to my car to get my homework? My book? My paper? My cell? My permission slip?”

“Murphy, you hungry? Can we go to the doughnut shop?”

“Can I use your laptop to check something?” (Fantasy scores)

“Can I step out to the hallway to call my mom?” (boyfriend/girlfriend)

“Can I print something out from your computer?” (paper that's due this period)

“Hey, your phone is ringing. No phones, Murphy!” (daycare)

“Murphdawg, what are THOSE pants all about?”

“Hey, are you going to get rid of those pants? Can I wear them to the rally tomorrow?”

“Murphy, you drive a mini-van?!”

“Can I turn my paper in to you tomorrow?”

“What if I…?”

“What if you just give me an A and we’re all good?”

“Murphy, what do you want for lunch, we’re going to get sandwiches?”

“Are you in a bad mood? Watch out, she’s in a bad mood today.”

“Can we just do nothing today?”

“Can we play volleyball, come on it’s Friday?”

“Uno! Lets play Uno! Come on, it's Friday.”

“She has a Face Book page?!” “Oh, I’m adding her.”

“I am not late. They bell was ringing. Don’t you even mark me tardy.”

“Oh, come on Murphy, you know we’re your best friends.”

“How was your day, Murphy? You good?”

I do hope upon their graduation that they travel our country and not just to Hawaii. I hope that they continue to show support and love for one another like they have this past year. I hope they come back to visit and rattle on to me about all their happenings, problems and heartache without, of course, missing a beat.

P. S. Flesh Kincaid grade level: 4.8 (ouch!)

Passive Sentences 2%

Olympian Couture

Ah! The Olympics: competition, cultural awareness, peace, harmony, American pride…the stabbing of 2 Americans, Russia’s invasion of Georgia while Putin attends the Games. There is such a swirl of politics surrounding these games. But come on, that can’t stop us from nit-picking athletic wear and hairstyles.

Overall, our athletes seem to be responding well to the pressure to win. Some have figured out how to channel that pressure, while others are just trying to get through the competition. But why oh why do the women’s beach volleyball teams, who are nowhere near water, wear fewer clothes than the swim teams? The women volleyball players should just go for it and wear the thong… I’ve seen more of Kerri Walsh’s cheeks in the last 2 days than I have in a PlayGirl magazine. They must schedule their waxes ahead of time to avoid well, embarrassment. Are these the particulars that the Olympians worry about? The same could be said about the girl’s gymnastics team, but I don’t think they’ve officially hit puberty yet. I want to watch women’s volleyball for their athleticism, but each time I do, I worry about if they’ve had a proper wax before they put those uniforms on. Really? They can’t wear a fitted t-shirt and some spandex shorts? They would be so much more comfortable. Do you think we’d have equal interest in men’s beach volleyball if the men were wearing Speedos? Please. We would all change the channel.

These same thoughts go through my mind when I watch the women’s gymnastics team. Of all the advancements each sport has taken, why can’t there be a better uniform for women’s gymnastics? As a young 12 or 13 year old, I couldn’t imagine putting on an outfit like that -- making sure everything is in its place. Heaven forbid a young girl have her period and have to wear that outfit. They must just get used to it because they’ve been doing it for years. The men, on the other hand, get to wear loose fitting comfy pants; the kind you want to wear around the house on a Saturday. Surly they don’t worry about the mouse getting out of the hole.

The other advancement that the US women’s gymnastics team hasn’t discovered yet is a proper ponytail holder. Our girls are wearing white scrunchies from the 80’s and barrettes that look like the one’s my 3-year-old wears. But last night, as I was critiquing the girls’ appearances, I was also noticing their tense body language.

I always enjoyed watching gymnastics, but our girl’s team looked stressed, scared and robotic. I felt tense watching them. Simultaneously, the swimmers seem to be having a great time. As NBC does their mini-biographies, the older athletes from all countries talk about balance in their lives. And all of them seem to be enjoying the ride. When I watched the women gymnasts Sunday night, they looked young – some of them too young—scared and off balance. They all seemed too worried about the final outcome rather than enjoying the thrill of competition. The only one who seemed to be enjoying the pressure was Shawn Johnson. She was confident and preformed well. She walked around with an air of confidence as if to say, “I got this.” All the while, wearing the 80’s scrunchy and the uniform that gives her a wedgie.

The Runner I used to be.

On our first day of family vacation during the kids’ naptime, my husband declared he was going on a run. My youngest sister-in-law asked him to wait and said, “I’ll join you.” Her husband then chimed in and said, “Well, I’ll go too.” I watched as they all readied – tying their shoes and strapping on their iPods as they left. I had to keep guard while the kids slept.

From 7th grade on up, every spring I would go with my mom to Athlete’s Foot and buy a pair of running shoes, usually Nike. One time my sophomore year in high school I bought a pair of Reebok’s and I lost the middle toenail on both feet. After college I would try a pair of Asics and love them, but they were too wide and I ended up wearing 2 pairs of socks just to prevent blisters. Each spring, when I bought my new pair of shoes, I would take them home and perform my ritual of completely unlacing them and then re-lacing them taking all of the twists out of the strings. Then, I would put the strings through the loop on the tongue. At the top, I laced them in a special way so that if my shoes did come untied, they wouldn’t loosen. Lastly, I would place the Nike extra arch support in the shoe. Ahhh! Such comfort!

I joined the track team with my friend Amy in 7th grade and found that I was a pretty good ¼ miler. That is until I reached puberty, got hip and became slow. Then, in high school I ran everything just because. I really enjoyed the 800 but my coach rarely put me in that event. He would always torture me with the 400. I even ran the mile once so our team could get a point. After college, while in graduate school, I became an assistant coach for the cross country, indoor and outdoor track teams. I tried to absorb as much as I could about coaching track. That year, the boys’ team won the indoor state title. The next winter, I finished graduate school and moved to San Francisco, CA. The year was 1998. I ran 3-5 miles 4-5 times a week. On Sundays I would run from the Pan Handle through Golden Gate park, reflect at the ocean and then run back. I ran numerous races -- especially Bay to Breakers and Bridge to Bridge consistently.

But now after ACL surgery in 2004 and 2 kids, I don’t know where the runner in me has gone. When I started seeing the man who would later become my husband he did every sport but running. I encouraged him to run – and he did – slowly. But in the past 5 years, he has run the SF marathon 3 times, the LA marathon once and the Big Sur Marathon once – not to mention numerous other half marathons. He has taken my workout and trumped me. So much so, that my in-laws and their family see me only as one who runs sometimes with her husband.

At times I think, “I’m the runner,” I want to yell. “I got HIM to run! I’ve been running longer than he has.” I want to get upset, but really is it worth it? One can only do what the body will do. I did get back into running after our first baby was old enough to go in the baby jogger (6 months) and I jogged until I was 5 months pregnant with our second baby. But now since the second baby, I have been suffering from tendonitis in my tensor fasciae latae in my hip. I have only recently been diagnosed because I kept thinking if I didn’t run, the pain would go away. It’s been 9 months since I last ran. And those last 6 months of running came with a lot of pain afterwards. The thing is, since I haven’t been running, no one has asked me, “Hey, are you still running?” And that’s how I know that I am not the runner that I used to be.

Mom vs. Disney?

Disney is bad. I don’t need my daughters growing up thinking they need to marry a prince to be happy. In fact, they don’t even need to get married. They will be strong independent women capable of making themselves happy… right? Plus Walt Disney has been accused several times over of including racist pieces in his movies. You can Google it and check it out. But I don’t want this piece to be an analysis of Disney. It’s about how I have lost the battle of keeping Disney out of my house.

When my oldest was born, I did my hardest to stay away from Disney. I thought, ‘we don’t need advertisements in our home,’ and I was successful, for a while. But then it started with a pair of pajamas from Grandma… The Little Mermaid. . I saw the Little Mermaid in high school – even bought the soundtrack. Okay I thought. Then my husband bought the DVD Cinderella. I watched it. I don’t like that Cinderella gets married, but I like that DVD because it’s more about the mice and the cat than it is about Cindy. Plus, it’s so old that it’s done with an orchestra and I can handle listening to it. But why does Cinderella need a man to save her? Snow White? Sleeping Beauty? Ariel? Belle is the only one who falls in love for loves sake but she still ends up with a man. And need I mention that these princesses are all white?

Then, my downfall occurred. One day at the mall we were walking by the Disney store and they had indoor play tents on sale: Tinkerbelle Fairy tents. I don’t know what happened, but I wanted that tent. It was more about fairies than princesses, so I broke down. My first Disney purchase. And my daughter loved it. I began my tumble downhill and have been sliding ever since.

Our friends have dress up, we go to princess parties, and our cousins have Disney everything including pajamas and beach towels. But a couple of other events have happened that have made me stop and assess what I want to teach my girls. Playing dress up was fine, but then we were over to a friend’s house playing Cinderella. The girls lost the shoe at the end of the ball, but they were walking down the isle to get married. I looked at my friend and she said, “ I know, I know this is what we play.” And my daughter was having such a good time; that I couldn’t stop her from playing.

The second event happened at dinner a couple of nights ago. The oldest was talking about dressing up and playing princesses and she said, “I’m going to be a princes. I’m going to be a princess like you mommy and get maaaaaarrrrrried.” And she points up to our 8x10-wedding picture. Of course, Mommy was a princess and she wants to be like mommy. It was so sweet. I wonder to myself if Disney knows how powerful their marketing campaign actually is. They got my husband to buy DVDs because of tradition. They got me to buy because of the fairies (they’re not really Disney, right?) And well, now my daughter has bought into princesses & the institution of marriage.

I guess there will always be outside influences, but I need to constantly re-evaluate my beliefs about popular culture and what I want to teach my child about popular culture. And as a parent I always have to ask myself, “What is this really teaching my child? What are the underlying influences?” There are three traits I want my daughters to have: strength, confidence and independence. Because I want them growing up knowing that they are the sole providers of their happiness and they don’t need to marry a prince to get it. Guess I have a lot of work a head of me.

If you’d like to read some titillating articles about Disney and racism you can check out the links below.

http://www.surlalunefairytales.com/boardarchives/2005/dec2005/racismdisney_1.html

A more balanced article: http://animatedfilms.suite101.com/article.cfm/floyd_norman_on_animation

http://www.mediaed.org/videos/CommercialismPoliticsAndMedia/MickeyMouseMonopoly/studyguide/html

Torrey Pine golf U.S Open

I don’t know if it’s the fresh sea air or the small of wet fresh cut grass, but watching the U.S. Open at Torrey Pines is awesome. My husband and I had been planning the trip for a year. We dropped our kids off with his parents in Southern California and had 4 days of kid-free-adult golf watching. Boring? Not in person. Being a golf spectator is the best. You’re outside: The Pacific Ocean against the golf greens and the Torrey pine; getting some exercise: walking the beautiful greens, watching the pro golfers: Tiger bogeyed hole 17; meeting the nicest people, and drinking beer. At $100 a ticket, there is little riff raff. The majority of men have collared shirts on; everyone is congenial, helpful, nice and chatty. I love meeting golf people. As far as sports events go, it’s the most relaxing to watch. That is of course, if you don’t really care who wins.

This year, of course, we were in for some history making golf. My husband and I went of Friday and Sunday of the U.S. Open. On Friday, we arrived at the course at 9am, got some breakfast, walked the course and watched golf. It was beautiful. Until, that is I saw this guy, Vanderplank (who I later named Vanderplunk), walk into the out-house located off the side of the green. Is he really going in there? In front of all these people? A father behind me with his two sons said, “He’s droppin’ the kids off at the pool.” I almost lost it. Which is hard to do at a golf match because quiet is usually in order. Did he wash his hands? Where? (I later discovered in my own outhouse usage that there is now a Purell container located on the inside of the port-a-potty.) And the port-a-potty, or Johnny on the Spot, is a funny little happening. Around the course, there were about 20 or more of these port-a-potties fenced off with green lattice fencing. It almost looked nice. But once one entered the “bathroom community” all talking ceased. Everyone waited in line, if there was one, did their business and got out. There was no talking or socializing in this quarantined area. But, I digress…

The golf. Yes, the golf. We saw a lot of good golf and we saw a lot of bad golf. The bad golf makes us all feel human. I saw one player throw his club into the ground. We’ve all been that made. Isn’t it wonderful? We saw Tiger warm up. There were hoards of people following him and Phil Mickelson on Friday. So much so that we had to go 7 holes in front of Tiger. As I mentioned earlier, we saw him bogey the 17th. Not a happy Tiger. We left the course at 6pm, exhausted. And all the while, reports of Tiger’s knee were trickling out: it hurt, it was sore. Nothing more. Fiift thousand people went to the course on Friday. We realized that we would really have to have a strategy to see Tiger on Sunday.

Here was our strategy: Watch Tiger at the driving range, leave and set up along the green of the 1st or 2nd hole, watch him on the 6th and then head over to the 18th. That’s what we did. It would be perfect. Tiger would drive the first hole, the ball would land right in front of us and then we could watch him put it up on the green. Well...Tiger banked the ball so far left that it landed in the crowd! Then, it hit the tree and bounced back. Humility. His third shot hit the branches and then landed on the green in front of us. There was Tiger in all his glory: built, focused and in red. The 6th hole went more smoothly. As we walked over the 18th we tried to get beer and a snack but it was getting crowded already. The grand stands were not a possibility. We walked along the other side and set ourselves up just about 50 yards down the right side of the 18th hole. There we waited for 2 and half hours. We were set, we had a nice couple on the left of us with the TVs we had a nice young couple on our right. And if front of us, was the shortest Asian couple I’d ever seen. Someone I could actually see in front of. Tiger and Rocco were on the 18th green. Tiger hit the ball RIGHT in front of us. In fact, all the camera people (hoards of them) were in front of us. Had they taken the shot from the other side, we would have been on TV. Onto the green he went. When it came time for the put, everyone was silent, breath was held. People positioned and repositioned, I stood on my tippy toes peaked in between ears and hair and heads. Between 2 inches of space, I saw Tiger hit the put, but then a head with a brown hat on it moved into the inch of space I was looking through and I missed the final shot.