To My Daughter, and Her Team

To my dear daughter:

I am so proud of you today.

You finished your last basketball game of the season with pride in your effort and joy all over your face.

You were born tiny - 5 pounds, 1.8 ounces. You have hovered between the 5th and 10th percentile for height your whole life.

You are the smallest girl on your team, and your team (the only team of 6th graders in a league of teams that have a few 6th and 7th graders and lots of 8th graders) is the smallest team in the league. There were games in which you were the smallest girl on the court, and the tallest girl towered over you by two feet or more. There were games in which the tallest girl on your team was about the same height as the smallest girl on the other team. Anyone would have predicted it and, indeed, it happened. Your team lost 11 games, and won only one.

And yet, I don't consider the season a disaster. There could have been tears, and frustration, and a "loser" attitude. You could have vowed never to play again.

Instead -- wow, what you learned this basketball season!

I'll never forget that first game. The girls on the other team ranged from 5'8" to 6'2". And they weren't twigs, either. Not a soul on your team is over 5'8". Your entire team looked wide-eyed and lost. You didn't know what to do, or how to do it. This was nothing like your team practices! You stood and chewed your fingernails and watched helplessly as the other team (Amazon women, I tell you - just huge!) shot basket after basket. One of your teammates saved you from a scoreless first game by making a free throw. I think the final score was 44 - 1.

But none of you gave up. You came back for the next game, and the next game, and the one after that....

And at each successive game, you all looked a little less lost, a little more confident, a little more capable, a little more competitive.

The heartbreaker of the season was the game that you lost in the final seconds, by one point. It was a close game all the way, but your team was leading throughout most of it. This particular team had only 5 girls - I'm sure they must have been tired by the end of the game, with no subs! - so even though they were bigger than your team, it was a lot more evenly matched. It was a fun game, but oh-so-painful to watch as the other team scored the winning basket just as the clock ticked down to zero.

But when you played that team later in the season, you won! It was your team's only victory, and oh it was sweet.

Another highlight, for me: You scored one of the only baskets for your team in last week's game against a bunch of 7th and 8th graders. I was so proud of you! How you managed to throw the ball high enough to get over that gal's arms, and still make the ball go into the basket, I'll never know. But you did, and it was amazing!

And your defense!! At that first game, the girls on the other team could easily walk up to you or your teammates and simply take the ball away, run down the court, and score.

Today, a girl on the other team tried that with you. She was at least a foot taller than you, and outweighed you by at least 30 pounds, but you weren't about to let her get that ball. No way, no how!! You held onto it as if your life depended on it. She grabbed the ball and pulled upward. You held on. She nearly picked you up off your feet. That would have been a sight, huh? Her holding the ball and you hanging onto it, with feet dangling in the breeze? In the end, the referee called a jump-ball, and your team got the possession!

Several times today, I saw you guarding the tallest girl on their team, and actually doing such a great job of getting in her way that she had to pass the ball and couldn't take a shot. Wow. You've really come a long way from the shy girl in the first game of the season. No more fingernail-chewing for you. Oh, no - now it's pure hustle and effort for the entire 24 minute game! Perhaps in recognition of your effort, your teammates even elected you team co-captain. How very cool.

There were some bumps along the way. You played one team - I'll just call them "team B" - that apparently thought they were a hockey team. They pushed and shoved and poked at you every time the ref's turned their backs. They body slammed your players, knocking them down. They called you all names and made mean comments and cursed throughout the game. It was so hard to watch as they literally caused three injuries to your teammates. Despite it all, your team continued to play by the rules, and persevered, and played as well as you could. You lost, as usual, but you won the moral victory. You didn't stoop to their level. And compared with the usual 6-50 or 4-47 losses, the 8-16 loss to Team B didn't seem so bad, really. I kept thinking if they would focus on playing basketball instead of trash-talking and sucker-punching, they might have beat your team as soundly as most of the other teams in the league did!

Your coaches, with the support of your team, decided to concede the second game against that team rather than subject you all to that again. But in the end, the league president called them to the mat. The Team B girls wrote letters of apology, and you all agreed to play them again. Sadly, you were sick and missed that game, but I heard that Team B actually played by the rules and were polite and kind throughout. Your team still lost, but at least it was a fair and fun game! And maybe Team B learned something along the way, too - they didn't have to cheat and trash talk to win a game.

All in all, it was a good season. The 1-11 record your team amassed says absolutely nothing about what you all learned, how hard you all played, the level of talent and hustle you displayed, and what you all accomplished this season.

Every game, you all gave it 100%. You improved steadily throughout the season. You learned the rules and strategies of the game. You learned to play good defense. You learned to take shots when you can. But most of all, you enjoyed it. Every game, you said you had fun. You never whined about losing, or about all the practices. You had fun with your friends. You supported each other. You cheered each other from the sidelines. You smiled a lot. You were a joy to watch.

I am so proud of you.

Love, Mom

P.S. Watch out, league. When these girls hit 8th grade, they will be unstoppable!

Happy Birthday; Happy Earth Day

Dearest Son,

Happy Birthday! You were born 6 years ago today. You were a healthy and happy baby. I was so blessed. You liked to eat a lot, which helped you grow so very quickly. For months, you never went more than two to three hours between feedings, so I didn't sleep much. I was tired a lot. Your sister was amazed at how big you were, and how fast you grew.

I used to gaze at you and wonder, what would your personality be? Who would you become? I still wonder who you will be when you are "all grown up." But at least now I can clearly see the personality of the wonderful child you have become.

You are generally a happy child, enthusiastic and excited about whatever fun things we plan, whether it's a walk around the block with the dog, a bike ride to get ice cream, a trip to the zoo or the children's museum, or a trip across the country to the beach or to grandpa's house. No activity is too big or too small to spark your happy smile.

You are also very bright. Your sister would have you think otherwise. She sometimes tells you that you are stupid, or that you don't know how to do things right, or that you aren't as fast or as smart as she is. This makes me sad, because when she says these things, I can see the self-doubt creeping into your expression. I tell you that of course you're not as fast as she is and you don't know as many things as she does... yet! She is nearly 5 years older than you and has had a lot more time to practice and to learn. I also tell you what you want to hear, that - just wait! - one day you'll beat her in a race. And some day probably sooner than either of you expect, you'll know more than she does about something! I just hope you can keep a realistic sense of how bright and smart and interesting you are until then.

I also tell you that you don't need to compete with her to be your own special, smart, capable self, who I will always love. I can tell that second part doesn't mean much to you now, but I hope that in time you will come to understand that your worth is not measured in comparison to your sister. You are your own wonderful person, with different interests and capabilities than your sister, but certainly no less valued for being a different person. I love you both, with all my heart. And I hope you will accept her for who she is, too (flaws and all), and not hold it against her that she is so wildly competitive at this age.

My son, I can already see that you will someday be an excellent father or uncle or perhaps a teacher or pet owner. You are compassionate and kind. Always the first child to comfort another who is crying. Always the first to ask, about a stray cat or dog, "where will it live? who will feed it? is it sad because it has no home?" You like to ask me how my day was, and you like it even better when I actually answer you and don't just say, "fine." You like to bring me water when I am sick, and you could sit for hours and pet our poor old doggy, who is probably not going to live a whole lot longer, while telling him what a good dog he is.

You are charming, and you have a great memory for details of things you have done, places you have been, and even things that people have told you. You remember details of our vacations from two years ago, and you remember all your preschool teachers' names.

You love to give gifts, and to watch people smile when they open them. You love to get gifts, too, and you are so unabashedly thrilled with everything you get, that it makes the gift-givers smile at how well they have pleased you. I wish everyone had your ability to make others smile!

I can also see that you will grow up to be brave and strong. You were so scared of heights at age 2 that you refused to even walk on a 1 foot high ledge without a "death grip" on my hand and you would not even go down the "baby slide" at the park. Yet, when you saw your sister taking gymnastics and walking on the balance beam, you said, "mommy, I want to do that." So I signed you up for gymnastics. You were terrified at first, and would not climb up on the trampoline, nor walk on the beam on even the lowest setting. But now, if somone will simply walk next to you, you will creep across that balance beam. I can tell you are still very scared, but you face those fears and do it anyway because you trust your coach to keep you safe and you want to conquer your fear. That is true courage: being afraid but going forward anyway. And now no slide is too high for you, and you love walking along low block walls, curbs, and ledges when we are out walking in the neighborhood.

School is not your favorite activity. You always tell me your favorite part of the day is lunch and recess. For a long time you resisted even learning your ABC's, I think in part because you were scared to compete with your sister and come up short. But, with some encouragement at home, you have learned to read and you are now so proud that you beg me to let you read me stories every night. I love that, and I always let you read one for me, sometimes three or four. I can see the pride in your face as you decipher each new word, and enjoy each new story. We need to work on your counting next.... I bet you will be adding and subtracting before we know it!

You like to tell long, elaborate superhero stories. I have to admit, sometimes I am just not in the mood to hear about who is fighting who and what bad guys they are catching. But I try to listen when I can, and to encourage your imagination. Perhaps one day you can be a writer for a tv show or a comic book... or even write a novel. You really are quite creative and imaginative.

You are a little bit of a picky eater. You don't like cheese (except on pizza), which I find strange since it is one of my top three favorite foods (along with coffee and chocolate). You don't like cake much, but you love hard candy and lollipops. You like ice cream cones. You are obsessed with bananas. You could eat strawberries until you turn red. Apples and carrots and black olives make your list too. And any kind of meat. And frozen peas, literally frozen, straight out of the freezer. But you don't like pasta much, or chicken nuggets, or other similar "kid favorites."

And sometimes, you can be so ... difficult. Obstinate. Ornery. Whiny. Argumentative. Ay yi yi. That is usually at night when you are tired, though, and by morning all is forgotten. Of course, sometimes in the morning when you are tired, it is hard to get you out of bed and you are whiny still. But other days you awaken eager to face the day, and you come bounding into the kitchen and give me a huge hug and a beautiful smile. I love those days.

You use logic well. A little too well, sometimes, when you remember details and know how to weave them into an argument for what you want that is hard for me to resist.

The bottom line, my son, is that I am very proud of you. I am enjoying your childhood and I don't want you to change and at the same time I can hardly wait to see who and what you will be when you are in third grade, sixth grade, ninth grade, a high school senior, a college kid....

Happy birthday, my son, happy birthday!

Love,
Mom


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And Happy Earth Day, too!
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