Friday, October 12, 2012

Stellar Moments

Lighthearted.
Surefooted.
Decisive.
Bold.

I have these words scrawled in marker on a beat-up piece of red construction paper, taped to my kitchen cabinet in a place that I am forced to view many times a day. Right next to a copy of the cherished photo Laura Fitch took of me on the bench at my first bout.

They appeared in my thinking after a meditation one evening last week. It had been a particularly exhausting kid-wrangling day with much emotional turmoil on their part. The kind of sobbing and dismay that as a mother seems to be wired directly to your central nervous system and slowly, agonizingly yanks at it. I was looking for some motivation to get myself to and through an 8:30 to 10:30 pm practice and those words came to me as I attempted to center myself and find some focus and strength. I'm still not sure if they are my mantra for derby or merely a description of my daughter.

I'm sitting here at my kitchen table after the peaceful hush of two toddlers finally napping has enveloped my home. With the absence of crumbsnatchers I can hear my wind chimes again and the lovely soft breeze. There is a beautiful sunny golden fall glow coming in my window.

But my heart is racing. I'm shaking. My breathing short and unsteady. The dog is looking at me funny. I can't decide if I should make another latte, use my phone-a-friend lifeline, lie down in a darkened room or just crack the bottle of bourbon.

Let me try and describe the scene at my house moments ago as I attempted to get the kids to nap today. 



The boy is running around the house chanting "000100010011000011111.....". After checking with Alan I am assured he hasn't been playing him the binary solo from "Flight of the Conchords." I'm also fairly certain he hasn't viewed any of my "Alias" DVDs and is reciting the Rambaldi Code that Sydney and Ana Espinosa had to memorize before the test tube cracked and that green chemical spilled all over and destroyed it in the suitcase in Berlin.

Although not ideal for a naptime setting, that's all quite manageable. The girl on the other hand has just taken a few more years off my life, contributed a few more gray hairs, and deepened the ever-growing creases in my face.

I've sung her "The Girl from Ipanema" several times. Played her Tom Waits nap time medley. Read about 26 books. Given her the "This is the last book. After this book it's time to go to sleep" warning. We take our time finishing up and then I pick her up to put her in her crib. 

I turn around long enough to switch on her nightlight, and as I turn back see her going from a handstand on the top bar of her crib to still holding on, flipping over backwards and dismounting with her butt and back headed towards the floor. Somehow my consciousness leaves my body and hovers over the scene unfolding. In slow motion I see all this, and see myself leaping across the room to catch her inches away from the floor and still holding onto the top rail of the crib. 

She is calm as can be. Unfazed. Smiling. For a second I completely believe I have created this in my imagination because I am so exhausted. But then I see the boy's face. He is literally saucer eyed and slack jawed and says "Mommy what did Oona just do? Mommy is that a yes or a no?" I also realize the whole time she was flipping she was saying "Mommy I just want to get out sit on the couch and reeeeaaaddd mooorrre books!!"

While I'm attempting to catch my breath we read about 45 more books and she finally allows me to put her in her crib. But then as I'm tucking her in my tiny Sydney Bristow informs me she wants to "kick her legs up AGAIN" when she wakes up after nap.

Her floor is now literally carpeted with every pillow and couch cushion in the house. I was considering blowing up the air mattress but I didn't know where it was.

She ran UP the steep slippery slide at the park this morning. As she was going up I rushed to assist her. As I touched her butt I realized she didn't need me at all. Her head was leading, her leg joints all deeply bent and her little pelvis was weightless as I attempted to guide her. It was effortless, and she ran her little purple converse up onto the platform in a blink of the eye. 

Perhaps I shouldn't have shown her those parkour videos this morning after she scaled the slide. Or the Cirque du Soleil. Maybe she's some sort of super hero like Monica Dawson with her adoptive muscle memory on "Heroes," and if she sees something she's able to then do it. By far the coolest super power ever. Just not so close to home or at such a young age.

Each time I look at that paper I can still hear my boy's soft voice as he read those words to me, leaning on me and carefully sounding each syllable out as I wrote them that night. They are very thick print because I went over each letter a few times as I explained each word to him over and over until he told me it made sense.

Some days I seriously doubt my ability to keep these children safe. More specifically, the girl. Daring and fearless. Stubborn and opinionated, incredibly independent. But so ridiculously sparkly, spunky, happy, goofy and loving. 

Currently I'm attempting a feat. It's conquering an old and very stubborn habit. One which has spread its dark cloud over all activities I have been involved with for the entirety of my 41 years. I am striving to shift my perspective to dwell on the stellar moments of my derby life. The ones that leave me smiling with all of my face, eyes twinkling, instead of tirelessly and cruelly reminding myself over and over of mistakes I've made and things I wish were different. I believe if I can achieve this feat in my derby life, not only will I be a better skater, but there's also a chance it will spill into my regular life and allow me to enjoy it more fully.

One such moment came the other day in scrimmage. All the tractor-trailer training we've been working on finally clicked. I was decisive. I saw the opposing jammer coming on the outside. One of my teammates had gotten in front of her and I picked up my feet and momentum, grabbed my teammate's hips and swung my hips into the jammer with everything I had. She went out of bounds and came back in. I was right there and so was my trusty tractor, stepping right along with me. I swung into the jammer again, knocking her out a second time. We were so ridiculously proud of ourselves that we almost started high-fiving right in the middle of the jam. We had a good laugh about that one after the whistle blew.

Applying the new derby outlook I'm attempting sheds a slightly different twist on my hypercritical and not-so-useful way of thinking about my parenting skills. Instead of bemoaning my daughter's independence, frightening boldness and the years they are shredding off my life, I will look to her for guidance in my pursuit of derby badassery.

I believe she was the perfect second baby for me to have, that she joined our family at exactly the right time (i.e. 10 months before I had the guts to attempt my 20 year derby dream). Perhaps it's slightly harsh, but to be honest if she had come before Aldo (who seriously spoiled us by being such an incredibly easy baby) we probably never would have attempted a second child after her. She put us through hell the first 6 months of her life.  It's totally bizarro, but I had a dream a when I was pregnant with Aldo about this bright eyed, ringlet-covered red-headed girl. It was clearly Oona, and we were shocked when the sonogram tech told us Aldo was a boy. But then there she was, my little Beatrix Kiddo, one-inch-punching herself out of me 19 months later.

Last Sunday was the league championship bout. I had a few goals for the evening. I held my daughter in my lap for a large part of the day, just soaking in her calm, joyful, powerful, confident, radiant, effervescent energy. She is truly small but mighty, and when she allows you to hold her for an extended period of time it is extraordinary. She goes full out with everything she does, and when she finally sits still she is a master of peacefulness. I let it pass through me, the feeling that is the essence of Oona.

My first goal was to allow myself to inhibit my nasty negative habits and self judgement and attempt to let myself experience the bout with a little more Oona in me. My second goal was to challenge myself to have more 360° awareness, be very conscious of the two jammers' positions in the pack when I skated, and attempt to anticipate the opposing blockers' moves and interfere with them to assist my jammer's path through the pack. My third goal was to try and stick to my derby mantra, scrawled on that piece of red paper in my kitchen.

I put my head down to sleep after the bout with no regrets. I was smiling big and was completely pleased with my skating, able to suspend my harsh self criticism and simply relish the amount I've grown this year.

A few posts ago I wrote about high fives and my love of them. One memory that will stick with me my entire life was the introductions before the bout. As I stood there with my team waiting for the announcer to call our names out, I could see and hear my girl in Alan's arms, her ecstatic little voice yelling "That's my mommy!! Number 40eeeeee! Bowskiii! Mom you are awesomesauce!" My whole team was cracking up, and I was pointing out where the kids were so my teammates could try and make sure to high five them as they skated past. I saw my dear friend and teammate Killy Loveless, off her crutches and standing unsupported, with her arms around my boy, them both just beaming, waiting for us to skate by. And when they called me and I got to skate that line of people along the track, all with their hands out smiling and offering their hands for high fives it was amazing. Even more amazing were the looks on my kids' faces when I skated by and touched their little soft hands. I will hold that memory with me forever, and I hope they do too.

The night of the championship was truly a stellar moment. It and the night last November we passed our WFTDA test make perfect bookends on the volumes of experience, challenge, learning and pure joy this first derby season has offered me. Two shining, extraordinarily stellar moments I will remember forever. One of the most positive experiences of my life, one of the best choices I've ever made, allowing myself to pursue a dream after so many years. I am filled with derby love and guaranteed eye twinkling smiles with each memory I have. So looking forward to next season.