fine line

The summer that my third child was 3 1/2, I suffered a sort of mid-life crisis. I was bored, restless. I had three kids at home who required regular, but not constant, supervision. I was in grad school too, but took the summer off (I take every summer off) because when the kids are out of school I lack the energy to do homework after the kids go to bed (which is when I do most of my work). Although I didn't have big chunks of free time, I had more little chunks than I was used to and I didn't know what to do with myself.

So I was fully expecting a similar restlessness this summer, now that my fourth child is 3 years old. Actually the restlessness started before summer. 2010 was a very full year; summer and fall were my busiest months since grad school. Then winter semester I was teaching one class with an assistant and our youngest was learning to play independently--I had free time again. Don't get me wrong. I love being able to read whatever I want, exercise regularly, and watch a good show after the kids going to bed. But at some point I want to see results for how I spend my time. I need a project.

A few years ago the girl cutting my hair (at a beauty school--so yes, she was a girl, not a woman) asked what I did for fun. That seemed like such a weird question. I told her I taught piano and writing (hobbies, yes, but not entirely fun). She said, "So you like writing and playing piano, then?" Well, no, I don't write much or play piano much--I mostly teach.

In high school I did play the piano, though not exactly for fun, and I wrote for school--not fun. I was involved in a dozen extra-curricular activities, but I haven't found a way to transfer most of those to adult hobbies. As a former yearbook editor, I suppose I should like scrapbooking (I don't--at least not in a big way). As a former dancer I suppose I could take zumba.

So, with free time and free tuition, I'm contemplating going back to school. One thing I've enjoyed through most of my life is school. But I'm not quite ready. Our youngest still has 2 years of preschool before kindergarten, and I'm really not sure if I want to have professors dictating what I read and write about. I am committed, however, to taking the GRE in five weeks--the price is 50% in August and September, so I thought I may as well take it now (scores are good for 5 years; that's the sort of discount shopper I am).

The last couple of days, I haven't felt bored. Just when I thought I had free time, the independent study students start turning things in, family comes to visit, friends come to play, people have birthdays, preschool plans fall through, N lets me read the book he's writing, I find interesting books at the library. School is starting soon--I have a new textbook to read and a syllabus to write. I'll soon have plenty of papers to grade and study abroad to plan (the family end of things).

Sometimes there's a fine line between boredom and stress; the challenge is finding the happy medium. I'm lucky that for the most part my busy times are the result of my choices--having kids, going to school, building a house. I just wonder how many of these mid-life crises can one person have?

not-so-great salt lake

We're kind of pitiful when it comes to taking advantage of the amazing outdoor recreational opportunities surrounding us. When N proposed we take a field trip to the Great Salt Lake, it sounded like a super idea.

We decided to go to Antelope Island, which is west of Syracuse (20 minutes or so north of the city, then another 20 minutes west. I didn't watch the clock, so I'm totally guessing). The last 7 miles of the drive is on a causeway built through the lake, so there's water on both sides and distant mountains all around--it's gorgeous. Arriving around 5:00 p.m., we chose to start at the beach. It was a hot day--the parking lot felt like a barbeque grill. Between the parking lot and the beach is about 200 yards of sand, which had been cooking all day. I didn't know whether to wear my flip flops, which kept throwing sand up onto my legs, or remove them, thereby exposing my entire foot to the scalding sand.

Besides the heat, the other sensation we noticed as we approached the beach was the smell. It was ocean-like, but more pungeant--my son described it as a zoo smell.

We dropped our towels in a heap and headed into the water, stepping on hundreds of brine flies on the way. Now, you'd think that any person standing in the Salt Lake would have an irresistable urge to try floating, right? The thing is, the water isn't exactly clear--more greenish, with a top layer of small, rust-colored brine shrimp (you'd never know they were shrimp unless someone told you--they're tiny)--not exactly enticing. The only one of us who tried floating was our 3 year old and she loved it--couldn't get enough. She also practiced blowing bubbles.

The best thing about being in the Salt Lake, besides just being there, is skipping rocks. Littering the sandy bottom are an endless supply of flat rocks. After 30 minutes or so in the water, when I asked my older children if they were ready to go to shore, they declined--too busy skipping rocks. My daughter decided to keep one of the larger rocks. It looked like Arkansas; we named it Little Rock.

good to be home

It's nice to go away for a few days and better to come home.

The first few days of the trip were great: lovely I-70 to Denver/Boulder area, where I'd never been. The verdant hills and farms feel like home. Spent time with two brothers' families, including new babies. Saw an old friend. Browsed through a bookstore, ate Chicago-style pizza and Italian gelato on Pearl Street. July 4 fireworks with panoramic views. Amusement park had good rides and reasonable lines. Complimentary buffet breakfast.

Then we drove north to Laramie (N had a conference there--our going along saved 6 hours driving, a car rental, and hotel room). I'm afraid we had a bad attitude going in--at least, our two older kids did, which made it hard for the rest of us to enjoy the place. The hotel was very nice, which meant it did not offer complimentary breakfast. The good news was that we had two tvs and could hook up the Xbox to one of them. We swam in the hotel pool both days and spent most of the rest of our time in our comfortable hotel room. We did leave the hotel to eat meals and drive to the Snowy Mtns--not quite as close as they appeared on the map, but lovely (and genuinely snowy). The highlight of the drive was seeing two moose 50 yards off the road, but when we opened the window to snap a photo, several mosquitoes swooped in. Daughter A says that seeing two moose was not worth 1.5 hour drive (round trip) and 13 mosquito bites (pretty sure she got most of those July 4). We missed the rodeo by 10 hours, though we probably could have taken in bull riding or mutton busting. Surely we could have gone bowling or to a movie. But my kids didn't want to go anywhere--not even the park (we did go after some bribing/threats)--they just wanted to complain about how stupid Laramie was.

I'm glad to exchange the hotel suite for multiple bedrooms and bathrooms, a nice yard and swing set. And I'm starting to feel anxiety about the prospect of 6 months in a 2 bedroom, 1 bathroom flat, homeschooling my children (albeit in London, not Laramie).

Sticky Toffee Pudding

I've served this to two different book groups, to positive reviews.

Sticky Toffee Pudding (slightly adapted from Bon Appetit)
12 oz. (about 2 c) pitted, chopped dates
1 c boiling water
1 ¾ c flour
2 t baking powder
½ t baking soda
½ t salt
½ c (1 stick) butter
1 ½ c packed brown sugar
2 eggs
1 t vanilla
Toffee sauce or buttermilk syrup (recipes below)

1. Place dates in medium bowl; pour boiling water over, stir, let cool.
2. Preheat oven to 350. Butter and flour 13x9 pan.
3. In another medium bowl, mix flour, baking powder, soda, and salt.
4. Using electric mixer, beat butter in large bowl until light and fluffy. Add brown sugar and beat until blended (mixture will be grainy). Beat in eggs 1 at a time, mixing well. Beat in vanilla. Stir in flour mixture alternately with date mixture, starting and ending with flour.
5. Transfer batter to prepared pan.
6. Bake until tester comes out clean, about 40 minutes. Spoon ½ c warm toffee sauce or buttermilk syrup over cake, spreading evenly. Bake until sauce is thick and bubbling, about 8 minutes. Cool cake in pan until warm. Serve with remaining toffee sauce. (Every time I've made this the center has sunk and the edges were brown.)

Toffee Sauce
2 ½ c cream
1 c sugar
½ c. butter
½ c. light corn syrup
Bring 1 ½ c. cream, sugar, butter, and corn syrup to boil in heavy large saucepan over medium-high heat, stirring until sugar dissolves and butter melts. Reduce heat to medium and boil gently until mixture is thick and deep amber, stirring often, about 35 minutes.
Remove sauce from heat. Whisk in remaining 1 c cream (mixture will bubble vigorously). Strain into medium microwavable bowl. Can be made ahead.

A half batch of toffee sauce is enough.
For book group, I substituted buttermilk syrup for the toffee sauce—it’s faster and less fatty. It’s also delicious with pancakes, etc.

Buttermilk syrup
1 1/2 cups white sugar
3/4 cup buttermilk
1/2 cup butter
2 tablespoons corn syrup
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
In a large saucepan (3-4 qt), stir together the sugar, buttermilk, butter, corn syrup, and baking soda. Bring to a boil, and cook for 7 minutes. Remove from the heat, and stir in the vanilla.
Note: the mixture grows big while it cooks.

all we need is love

Last night I watched Freakonomics (spoiler alert--and yes, I know I should have read the book first), in which Steven Levitt argues that while many factors contributed to a drop in crime in the 1990s, the biggest contributing factor was Roe v. Wade. Fewer unwanted pregnancies in the 1970s led to fewer crimes in the 1990s.

Another chapter of Freakonomics explores using incentives to raise students' grades. A group of professors and students at the University of Chicago bribe (provide incentives for) 9th graders to improve their grades: $50/month if they maintain a C average and good attendance, with a shot at $500 and a limo ride. The incentives help D students become C students, but don't work for failing students. Passing rates increase by about 6%, which is lower than anticipated. The people running the study conclude they need to reach younger students--their next target population is preschoolers. Levitt asks will they be training the students or the parents? The answer is, both.

Which brings me to the first chapter: parenting. Levitt and coauther Dubner say that fancy preschools and expensive extra-curriculars don't matter. By the time a mother gives birth, she's already pretty well determined that child's future. Dubner doesn't say it exactly, but I think what he implies, if you consider the later chapters, is that what matters most in kids' lives is whether their parents want them and love them.

Reminds me of an interview with David Brooks, heard on NPR. Discussing his new book, he said that when he looked into why kids drop out of high school, he found that you could pretty accurately predict whether a preschooler would drop out of high school based on that child's relationship with his or her mother (I may be oversimplifying). Rather than inciting worry among mothers (Is my relationship with my children strong enough? How can I improve it?), and not having read either of the books I cite, I would echo Dubner in saying that if you're thinking about these questions, you're probably doing fine.

Now, most of us are aiming much higher for our children than high school graduation. But I'm not very worried about your children or my children. If we put together the various examples and arguments above, Freakonomics suggests that preventing unwanted pregnancies not only reduces crime, but similarly increases graduation rates and probably improves a long list of social measures. And educating 8th graders about birth control isn't going to solve the problem--we have to start younger, much younger. We have to start before birth (does that make any sense?). Wherever we start will not be the beginning--we're far past the beginning--but we need to try to ensure that all children are loved and all parents are loving.

My second grader, M, asked his friend, J, his greatest wish. J said, that everyone could be friends. M told J that's like asking for world peace only better, because if everyone is friends, we'll have world peace and more. Sounds pretty good.

entertain me

I wonder how many hours families collectively spend watching children's performances in the months of December and May. I'm afraid the shows bring out the Scrooge in me (I realize I kvetched in my last entry too--am I a really grumpy person?).

Crazy, I suppose, to complain, since I was an eager performer growing up and encourage my kids to do more extra-curricular activities than they choose to do. Taken individually I don't mind an orchestra concert, school play, or dance recital. My plea here is for all you teachers to please limit performances to an hour. Pretty, pretty please. Not 90 minutes, certainly not 2 hours. Especially not on a school night. And dress rehearsals need to be scheduled on a separate day.

Many teachers abide by these rules, and I thank them for it. Really I should be thanking all the dedicated teachers who teach my children and plan events to share students' talents, but sometimes I'm more annoyed than thankful.

For instance, Saturday we attended a matinee ballroom dance performance. Although all the numbers were good, we were there primarily to see our child perform for 3 minutes, and I'm pretty sure that most audience members were there to see their 7th and 8th graders. Anyone wanting to see the JV and varsity dancers would likely attend an evening performance, since they didn't include junior high groups, yet JV and varsity numbers dominated the matinee.

Worse is my daughter's dance performance next week, the last day of school. She's supposed to be at the auditorium 1:00-4:00 for dress rehearsal, then perform at 5:00 and 7:30, arriving 30 minutes early for each performance. We'll be lucky if we're done by 9:00 (plus we had to pay admission on top of recital and costume fees). Seems a bit much for dancers, teachers, and families.

On the plus side, the elementary school is not having their annual musical performance this year. For the past two years they've put on 2-hour musical shows, performed three times (2 evening, 1 matinee) to a full gymnasium. Two years ago it was a patriotic program, last year an earth-day program. The shows started at 7:00 p.m. on school nights, and the teachers had to babysit their students and keep them quiet during the shows (how unjust). Perhaps after the environmental show my conservative neighbors complained about liberal brainwashing, thus suspending the grand tradition--if so, I thank them.

I know my parents, siblings, and friends sat through marathon choir concerts (and piano recitals) each December and May when I was in high school, and I never heard them complain. I'm not so generous. I say, leave us wanting more.

Thank you for your time.

competitive dance

As I sat in the bleachers watching six-year-olds swing their hips and audience members whoop in appreciation, I asked myself a question Nick would later echo: What are we teaching our daughters? I also thought as I sat that the competitive dance scene must be similar to the beauty pageant circuit: stage moms, girls in expensive costumes, painted faces, curled and heavily sprayed up-do’s. Not my scene.

When we signed up for the dance class in October, we weren’t aware that it was a competing team, and by the time we knew, daughter A wanted to continue. So, here we were, having woken early, driven two hours to a 90 minute practice followed by 2 hours for hair make-up (I kid not). I wasn’t thrilled that my 11-year-old daughter wore more make-up than I ever have in my life, but I realized that stage make-up shouldn’t bother me too much—after all, I wouldn’t mind if she wore full make-up to perform in a Shakespeare play. But what put us (N & I) over the edge was that the teacher insisted the girls apply fake-tan make-up, and removed my daughter’s glasses before she performed. Apparently looking a certain way is more important than seeing correctly.

In answer to my above question, then, we’re teaching our daughters that appearance is important. I’m not one to disagree. We constantly judge books by their covers, houses by curb appeal, people by appearance. And how we look, or our perception of how we look, affects the way we act and interact with others. In competitive dance it’s not about finding your perfect individual look, but about everyone achieving “the look.” One group of dancers all wore white boots, flashy green flapper dresses, and long blond wigs. Their look was uniform and striking.

Another small group—only six dancers—was striking in other ways. The first group of the afternoon, they set a high bar for subsequent dancers. Their moves were right on, they all did center splits and standing splits, they were all a similar height and shape (thin), and appeared to be about nine years old. They were so professional that I wondered, Where do they go from here? and How did they get to this point? As I looked around I could glimpse the answers to the questions—from here, they could have long careers competing and winning awards. These girls were on track to be professional dancers, teachers, and judges. And these girls may have started competing at three or four years old.

So, a second message we might be sending our daughters is to train hard and specialize from a young age. I resist the idea that young children should be specialists. I don’t like the idea of 8 year olds having to audition for a dance team. But then I think, why not? Our two oldest children attend schools they had to apply for. Some kids who applied didn’t get in. We’ve never done competitive sports because my kids didn’t want to and because no one ever encouraged them to try out. But some children from a young age show great talent and commitment for a particular sport—shouldn’t they have opportunities to go beyond community sports? I believe in academic gifted and talented programs—shouldn’t there also be gifted and talented programs for dancers?

I guess what bothers me is that it may not be the girls’ dream to be competitive dancers. I don’t like pushy parents and teachers, and I don’t like that we’re teaching our girls to compete. Even if dancers love it, dancing shouldn’t primarily be about competition. Dancing is meant to be seen, yes, but by appreciative audiences; competition is about doing what will please the judges. It’s not necessarily about having fun, developing talents, bringing joy to others, giving everyone equal opportunities to shine. The teachers are aware of what judges are looking for, so they make sure the group has a variety of formations and give solos to top dancers. For one of our group’s routines, the teacher had her young son perform a run of back-flips. The team took first place in their division, and most positive comments were about the boy. One judge commented that the teacher should put him in more, so for the next competition she will. Never mind that he’s not in the class.

Competition can also mean sacrificing oneself for the team. I remember being in a dance line competition in high school. I’d pulled my right hamstring at the competition, but for the final performance the choreographers and advisors suggested I do the splits anyway and heal later (instead, I faked it). Competitive dance certainly isn’t the only place where coaches advise children and teens to work through the pain—football, track, swimming, basketball, baseball, cycling—in every sport you can find coaches who give bad advice (and other coaches who care more about their players than about winning) and players who have suffered serious injury or become addicted to pain killers.

This entry is long and I haven’t even gotten into hip swaying. Frankly, I think it’s cute when my 3-year-old wiggles her hips, so I understand how an audience would think the same about 6-year-olds. Dance is about bodies in motion—dance is sensual. I’m not sure at what point shimmying becomes suggestive. The standing splits show strength and flexibility, as well as the girl’s crotch. I don’t recall any of the dances I saw being overtly sexual, but most were flirtatious. We’re teaching our daughters to pop their chests and wiggle their hips—to flirt with their audience—to what end?

I’m not sure about the answers to my questions. Competitive dance is not my scene, and I hope my daughters decide it’s not theirs. Why? I don’t love the emphasis on appearance, conformity, judging, and competition. On the other hand, I love to dance and think my daughters are good dancers. If they choose to compete, I hope that they can enjoy being part of a team and recognize that eye shadow need not be an everyday thing, life isn’t primarily about pleasing other people, sexy isn’t the same as beautiful, and flirtation should be selectively practiced.