What I learned this week: The momentum has shifted

When my youngest daughter, Andrea, was in high school, she joined the soccer team. She'd never played before, not in earlier grades in school, not on club or park & rec teams. But in true Andie fashion, she chose the soccer team over the track team because her sisters ran track, and she was determined to do her own thing. Plus, she figured there'd be less running in soccer than in track.

Andrea was wrong about the running, but she was right about choosing soccer anyway, as that girl rocked the soccer field. She even chose to be goal keeper when no other girls on the team wanted the position, a position that eventually garnered her a spot — and a scholarship — on her college soccer team.

During her high-school stint on the soccer field, Andie's coach for the first few years was a young male teacher, not long out of college. His youth and enthusiasm for his job, for his team, for the game were a boon for the girls he coached. They absolutely adored Coach D. (His good looks had a wee bit to do with that, too, I assure you.)

Now, Andrea's high-school soccer team was not the best in the district. In fact, they were pretty far from it. But they had grit, they had dedication, and they had Coach D cheering them on.

Jim and I were fortunate to be able to attend the majority of Andrea's high-school soccer games. Many times, her team struggled to keep up with their opponents, often ending up on the losing end of the match. Sometimes, though, they'd manage to pull ahead.

It was during those initial moments of pulling ahead that Coach D's enthusiasm spilled over. "THE MOMENTUM HAS SHIFTED!" he'd shout to the sky, to those around him, but most importantly, to the girls. To which the girls would then run harder, faster, as they heard the sound of hope ringing across the field.

In every game, no matter how bad the beating seemed it might be, there would be at least one point where the exclamation would be made.

"THE MOMENTUM HAS SHIFTED!"

Every once in a while, the momentum would shift fully in the girls' favor, and Andie's team would come out the victors. Always a sweet victory indeed.

Ever since those days of watching high-school soccer games, hearing Coach D exclaim the moment of change indicating hope on the horizon, I've often heard his words ring out in my head — sometimes even spoken the phrase aloud or chuckled when Jim would say it at just the moment I thought it. I've heard it in my head at Andie's college games, while watching live or televised sporting events, when my daughters have overcome a challenge, when most anything in my life warrants the exclamation.

Well, this week, I learned this: The momentum has shifted... in my favor!

You see, the years since I lost my full-time job at the newspaper have been a heart-crushing struggle in a variety of ways, from trying to get books published — with my agent quitting the business midstream — to trying to keep my bank account filled with at least enough money to turn around and send it right back out again to pay the bills.

Many people have similar stories to tell, all beginning about the same time my financial woes began. The year 2008 and most since have sucked for a lot of us. I'm not unique in the challenges I've faced, I know. That hasn't really made it any easier, and I've wondered again and again when things would start trending up instead of continuing the downward slide.

Finally, though, it seems the downward slide has ended. In one small but significant way, the momentum has indeed shifted. Thanks to the copy-editing position I recently started — with much thanks to my online friend Carol — I'm finally able to see a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel, finally see hope on the horizon.

I must admit that this new position is not a high-profile one by any means, and it doesn't pay huge amounts. But it's enough to make a difference.

It's enough to give me hope.

It's enough to make me feel things are on their way up.

It's enough to make me say, with all the conviction of Coach D:

THE MOMENTUM HAS SHIFTED!

photo: stock.xchng

Today's question:

What have you learned this week?

The challenges of grandmothers

Any woman who’s been a grandmother for even a short time knows that the grandma gig comes with a few unexpected pitfalls. For me—a long-distance grandma—it’s the 815 miles between my grandsons and me.

Here, some of the responses from the Grilled Grandmas when asked, “What is the most challenging part of being a grandma?”

Remembering my place—I’m not their mom and need to respect my daughter in her role. —Robin

I can’t fit them all on my lap at one time. —Alice

For me it’s the feeling of competition to “keep up” with the other grandparents. It would be very easy for it to turn uncomfortably competitive. —Vicki

Knowing that when I visit them I will have to say goodbye. —Mary

I am concerned about the future—what kind of world we seem to be living in right now, with the economy and the politics of mean-spiritedness. Heck, I worry about those things TODAY, not just for the future. —Olga

The most challenging part for me is not giving in to their every command. For the “serious” things I stand strong. But for those little that that it really doesn’t matter, GG let’s them do/have it. —Jules

I was not a perfect parent. So when I see my children doing things I know are not perfect but will do no harm, I am quiet. I save my comments for safety issues and answers to their questions. I am older and I have seen too much, so I could be a huge black cloud. I really do not want to do that. It is a challenge, to say the least. —Barbara

Wanting to keep them from all the bad things yet knowing that it is an impossible task. —Janie

Energy! How I wish I had more energy. There are so many things I want to do with my grandchildren, but I must remind myself to be realistic about what I can do. —Kay

The most challenging part of being a grandma is remembering that your wonderful, caring child IS the parent. —Nita

Keeping it “fair” when there’s more than one around! —Joan

Working full time and not being able to go to all of their activities. —Connie

The most challenging part for me is trying to divide my time and attention between my three young children and my grandson. I feel like I’m missing out on some of the “full grandmother” experience because I’m young and have little one of my own to care for. I don’t want my grandbaby to feel cheated out of “grandma time,” too. —Kelli

Dealing with their parents! I don’t mean that in a bad way—it’s just that they all have their own parenting methods, and I have to remember about what that is for each family! —Angel

Balancing just the right amount of love and fun with discipline. —Rita

Balancing everything. I am also caring for elderly parents and there can be a lot of appointments, health needs, etc. at both ends of the age spectrum. —Kaye

For me it is learning how to just let go and have fun and play. I am still learning how to do that. —Marlene

Taking the back seat in how the children are being raised. Opinion is not always welcomed, especially since the mother is my daughter-in-law and not my daughter. —Merci

I haven't met a challenging part yet in being a grandma. —Terri

For more wisdom and wit from these and other grandmothers, check out the Grilled Grandma Archives. (Click on the months in the right sidebar there to peruse the entire archives.)

Today's question:

What do you find most challenging about being a grandmother? What has been most challenging about being a mother?

Brave chickens

My girls — No longer this crazy but now twice as brave.
 

The spookiness of the season seems to be taking its toll on my grandsons.

Mac, who's 16 months old and has been sleeping through the night for quite some time, has awakened screaming in the middle of the night for more than a week now. After ruling out illness, teething, earaches and pains, the only logical reason may be nightmares attributed to spider and ghost decor, plus viewings of Mickey's House of Villains at Bubby's side.

And Bubby, who loves those cartoons of Donald and Mickey braving scary places and villains in his current favorite DVD, doesn't fare as well with his own made-up tales. Megan said Bubby asked for a flashlight a few evenings ago and for Megan to join him in a spooky storytelling session. Only, once Bubby started telling the spooky made-up tale he hoped to share, he declared, "No, I gotta stop! It's too scary!" Megan tried to convince him that as he was the storyteller, the degree of spookiness was completely up to him, yet Bubby refused to go on.

Megan's concerned a bit by Mac's fears, chuckles a bit at Bubby's. I told her to consider what a chicken she was as a child. This is the daughter who, all the way up until leaving for college, would literally run to and from the bathroom if she had to pee in the middle of the night and who used a night light up until she got married. Heck, I'm pretty sure she still uses a night light—disguised as two baby monitors she swears she can't yet give up, for the boys' sake, of course.

Megan is a chicken. Her boys clearly take after her.

In so many other ways, though, Megan is far from a chicken, and brave far beyond what I ever expected of my chicken little girl. She was the first daughter to go far away to a college where she knew no one, a place seven hours from home. She also was the first to move far away from the family home after college to make her own home with her husband. And she was the first to bravely run an official half marathon race—a challenge she asked her sisters to do along with her, for their first times, in just a few weeks.

Her sisters accepted the invitation and will fly to the desert the first weekend of November to run 13.1 miles with Megan. Which shouldn't surprise me as my girls—typically so very different in so very many ways—are very much the same when it comes to bravery in the face of challenge and opportunity.

My youngest, Andrea, has from day one done crazy, daring acts that forever live in family lore. Things like the time she unexpectedly jumped from our boat while no one was looking, right into the cold waters of a mountain lake where we vacationed, just to shock us all. Or touched her tongue to the frozen wrought iron stair railing to see if it really would stay stuck to it (it did). And like yesterday, when she flew off—alone—on yet another solo vacation to parts of the country she's not yet seen.

My oldest, Brianna, may not (yet) take vacations on her own, but she regularly stares down fear and faces challenges of other sorts. One example: This weekend she is riding a bike down Pikes Peak. Yes, you read that right. Early tomorrow morning, Brianna and a friend will, starting at the summit, hop on bicycles—not motorcycles—and pedal down the 14,000-foot-plus mountain. For fun. Crazy, crazy, crazy. And brave, I must admit.

How that happened—how my daughters ended up brave in so many ways—I have no clue. They definitely didn't get it from me. They didn't get it from Jim, either, to be sure, as we're both rather chicken-like in myriad ways of our own.

So when it comes to Bubby and Mac being scared—whether at Halloween or of harrowing acts in the future—I'll continually advise them to look to their mommy and aunts as role models on how to be brave, how to feel most any fear yet do most anything anyway.

For models of bravery are what my daughters have been to me, and what they will always be.

Regardless of how long they use a nightlight.

Today's question:

What about Halloween used to (or still does) make a chicken of you?