Dream girl

I dropped the budding actress with a small case of nerves off at the theater and waited in the parking lot for my date. Tonight was opening night of "Those Were The Days," but the curtain wasn't going up for an hour and a half. My husband picked me up and we headed off for a quick slice of wood fired pizza and a Peroni. Pizza was delicious but I was too conscious of the time to enjoy the great cheese and fresh herbs. I might have enjoyed the beer.

Boxed up the extra slices and headed to the theater to watch our April daughter in her first big theater performance outside school. Truthfully, she's only had a few performances in school; this seemed so much bigger. Real lights, tech people, upholstered seats, tickets, a stage. She told me once, when I urged her to try out for the freshman field hockey team because she had years of experience playing that game, "Mom, that's your dream, not mine." She played in every game that year. Tonight was her dream. She's always danced like Britney, sang to all the hits, pop, country, and rock, and had a knack for playing mean girls. Her role as Cindy, the cheerleader has a little of e) all of the above. Double dream.

I watched, my Thursday coffee friend on one side and my husband on the other and laughed at all the right times and often. The musical comedy was a bit about high school cliques and characters, complete with a principal who doesn't realize the students are running the school. Our star was a sassy, cheerleading star. No case of the nerves was evident. All lines were recited with comedic timing, and everyone fell together in a dance off at the end with all the right moves.

No easy feat for this ensemble formed seven months ago as the "Showcase" group for the Arlington Inclusive Theater Company. The actors on stage, save a few "mentors" happen to have intellectual disabilities. Ages range from 18-??? They are all young at heart and it's obvious they are all sharing this dream to perform.

I couldn't get over how far they'd come in a few months. I couldn't imagine how much work their directors and producers put into getting everyone to tonight. They had taken shy, quiet adults and had them looking out into a crowd with mischievous grins while they stood in the right spot on stage. Great show. It's going to have a good run.

A number by any other name is January

I'm going to have to disguise this post a bit. My January daughter is a little shy about some things. Like attention. She's also brilliant so who am I kidding when I think I can disguise anything enough so she won't get it? She's the one who reads Margaret Atwood after me and figures out the "who dunit" long before I had in the book which of course is at the end. She is a scientist who loves research. She also figures out the whole plot of movies early on. She is at least kind enough to not share her thoughts until everyone's seen it. She's got her dad pegged. Well, maybe we all do. I have three daughters. But, her theories often come quicker and seem funnier.

Today she came to my school and delivered a chai soy latte, iced (my first ever) on her way home after her visit to another college. It's her spring break. The latte and she were both a little piece of mamma heaven. So... it's really hard to call her my middle daughter or my number two daughter or my second daughter. So limiting.

Pondering the adjectives for birth order last week, I decided I'd describe my daughters by their birth month instead of an ordinal number or other age superlative. "Hi, let me introduce my January daughter. She's a college student." "Have you met my August daughter? She's working for a publishing company and loves living in Charleston." "I know, can you believe my April daughter is graduating from high school? Remember when she was in that preschool in Oceanside?" Specific yet unbound by custom. Descriptive but with a bit of mystery left. Sassy yet sporty. (That last one, a family favorite for describing wine.)

I think this is going to work for me. I hope it does for the girls.

title IX, moms and daughters

My daughter's field hockey team just qualified for the NCAA Sweet Sixteen. I'm a proud mom. It is resurrection for a team that has risen in the last year above challenges athletically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, collectively, and individually. I'm an empathetic mom. In a few ways. I played college sports (tennis and field hockey), too. I was in that first generation of title niners in the mid 70s whose favorite subject after English and Geometry was recess. The year Title IX became a federal mandate (1972) our girls high school basketball team was still wearing the boys hand me downs over white t-shirts. Legislation rarely ensures immediate compliance- federal or otherwise. Hey, at least we had a team. I remember riding in a parent's car instead of on county buses to matches and games, some of which were over 2 hours away. But, at least we had a team. We did not get meal money for away trips like the boys who played football. We ate at McDonalds while they sat down and had steak and pie. Booster money was for football and boys basketball. But hey, we had a team. Pretty progressive stuff for a little high school of 600 students in the middle of the high desert. Now this next generation is enjoying the fruits of a year round labor, all expenses paid, hotel, per diem for meals, gear, shoes, coaches with impeccable reputations of the international ilk and most importantly, the joy of playing a physical and intellectual sport hard with your best friends!

As I write this I'm en route to my college field hockey team reunion. It's been almost 30 years. Talk about dilemmas! I had to make a choice between attending her game or this reunion. I have my daughter's blessing even though it could be her last collegiate game. Love that kid. As I torturously pondered the choices I finally realized I wanted to go to honor two coaches and some teammates who were such a positive and powerful influence on me personally and professionally. These were mentors who brought out the best in you, who developed your every dimension through a daily dose of sport and hard work, and did it without yelling. They were my family and women before their time. So after almost 30 years I'm acknowledging the bonds of friendship, family, and sport as much as anything else. It is the same bond I know my daughter will enjoy for the next 30 years with her coaches and team... and hey, do they ever have a team!