Author's Note: This was started last year (but finished this week).
Olivia called tonight from college. She didn't call to ask for money. She didn't call to ask for help. She didn't call because she missed us (although I'm sure she does).
She called to ask a question.
The phone rang. I picked it up.
"Hey Bia!"
"Hi, Mom. I just have a question. How can Ted Cruz be elected President if he's not a natural born citizen of the United States?"
Now, the answer to her question doesn't really matter in the context of this story. You can be a Democrat or a Republican or a Democratic Socialist (go Bernie!) or whatever, and I think you can still appreciate this. Here was a nineteen year old, sitting in her dorm room on a Sunday evening of a three-day weekend, calling her parents to inquire about the current state of the presidential election.
So many things to appreciate.
First off, she is aware of the developing issues in this election cycle. She didn't stop with the above question. She went on to detail for me what she had been taught in her political science class regarding qualifications for becoming president, as well as her interpretation of the phrase "natural born citizen". She knew where Ted Cruz had been born. She thought the idea that a person could be a natural born citizen of two countries was ludicrous. And she wondered why in her own lifetime the whole "where were you born" issue seemed to keep coming up with regard to people running for President (John McCain, Barack Obama, Ted Cruz). It does seem odd, now that I think about it.
What made me a tad bit giddy was that I was having this discussion with Olivia at her behest. SHE called US to talk politics.
There are so many ideas and passions and values that I hope we are passing down to our kids. I have come to realize that almost all of those things we pass down by example. You can't just talk a big game with your kids. You have to walk the walk.
I'm glad to know that our kids picked up on some of our better habits. Steven chose to give his grandparents a Heifer International donation in their name for Christmas. Love that. Olivia called her grandparents from college just to chat and check in with them one evening because she hadn't seen them in a while. Nicely done. Both kids write truly thoughtful thank-you notes when they receive gifts (without me telling them to). That makes me so happy.
When I see our kids exhibiting some of our better practices, I'm reminded of a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson, which I think sums up the idea of this post: "What you do speaks so loudly that I cannot hear what you are saying."
Thanks for noticing, Steven and Olivia :)
Saturday, June 24, 2017
Why It's Fun to Name a Band
Our family likes to name bands. Okay, it's mostly me. I name bands. My family will occasionally jump in. But mostly they mock my band naming tendencies (and the actual band names I throw out there).
To be clear, I haven't actually ever named an actual band of instrument-playing people. I just like to think of names for bands. And really, I don't even try to think of them. It's not like I all sit around and try to come up with a great name. It occurs more as an afterthought during a conversation. My husband might say something like, "Hey, Steven, are you ready to go? The Savage taxi is on its way." (We have friends whose last name is Savage). And then I'll say, "Hey, Savage Taxi would be a great name for a band!" Because it WOULD be a great name for a band. That's how to play this game.
It sort of makes you listen with a different ear. You should try it.
Once you start doing this, a funny thing happens. You start also noticing phrases that would be TERRIBLE band names. And you start throwing those out as well. Those are almost more fun than the good ones. With the good ones, people will sometimes nod their head in agreement and perhaps mutter, "yeah, nice." They don't elicit a huge reaction. But when you casually drop in, "Oh, wow, 'Pop the Zit' would really make a terrible band name, you get people's attention. Then, just to try it out, you have to say, "Now coming to the stage, please welcome Pop the Zit!" in your best announcer voice (say "stage" three times getting softer each time, and do the same with Pop, the, and Zit). I'm grossing myself out here. That really would be a terrible band name!
Now that you know how this game works, you're going to start naming bands. You won't be able to help yourself. Have fun!
To be clear, I haven't actually ever named an actual band of instrument-playing people. I just like to think of names for bands. And really, I don't even try to think of them. It's not like I all sit around and try to come up with a great name. It occurs more as an afterthought during a conversation. My husband might say something like, "Hey, Steven, are you ready to go? The Savage taxi is on its way." (We have friends whose last name is Savage). And then I'll say, "Hey, Savage Taxi would be a great name for a band!" Because it WOULD be a great name for a band. That's how to play this game.
It sort of makes you listen with a different ear. You should try it.
Once you start doing this, a funny thing happens. You start also noticing phrases that would be TERRIBLE band names. And you start throwing those out as well. Those are almost more fun than the good ones. With the good ones, people will sometimes nod their head in agreement and perhaps mutter, "yeah, nice." They don't elicit a huge reaction. But when you casually drop in, "Oh, wow, 'Pop the Zit' would really make a terrible band name, you get people's attention. Then, just to try it out, you have to say, "Now coming to the stage, please welcome Pop the Zit!" in your best announcer voice (say "stage" three times getting softer each time, and do the same with Pop, the, and Zit). I'm grossing myself out here. That really would be a terrible band name!
Now that you know how this game works, you're going to start naming bands. You won't be able to help yourself. Have fun!
Friday, June 23, 2017
I Want to Spy on My Kids (but I won't)
Steven is down in Los Angeles visiting Olivia for the weekend. They both have season passes for Harry Potter World that are going to expire soon, so they wanted to use them one more time. I would absolutely LOVE to follow my kids around Harry Potter World.
I envision them, as they pass various Potter locations, quoting parts of the books, possibly acting them out. Without a care in the world as to whether anyone around them thinks they're dorks. And let's be honest--they're at Harry Potter World. No one there is going to think they are dorks for doing any of that. More likely they'll all be jealous. I think, although I can't say 100%, that Olivia might be able to quote at least one of the Harry Potter movies from beginning to end. I'm not joking.
In all honestly, I'd actually love to follow them around all weekend (in a disguise so as not to change their behavior). I picture them laughing a lot. I mean close to non-stop laughing. Because they're like that together at home, and away from us parents I suspect they laugh even more, and quite possibly they laugh at us (because again, they do this at home).
My guess is they also eat a lot. I envy them that. They're young and in great shape and if someone is offering them a goblet of butter beer, they're not going to pause to count calories or worry if it's nutritionally sound. Also, I ask them to send me pictures when they're together and a lot of the photos I get are of them eating.
I can absolutely guarantee you that Olivia will be singing lines from "Hamilton" the entire weekend. I will be interested to see if she turns Steven into a "Hamilton" fan. If anyone can do it, it's her. She not only knows all the lyrics, she is reading the biography that inspired the show and she's been researching various parts of the American Revolution because she's interested in the details beyond the story created by the musical. She'll have Steven discussing the merits of the National Bank before he knows what hit him.
He'll also be telling Olivia about his new apartment. Steven just moved to San Francisco and has his own apartment, all to himself, for the first time. It's downtown, just off of the Embarcadero, about a ten minute walk to AT&T Park (crucial information). Olivia has never been interested in living in San Francisco. She's always wanted to live in Los Angeles for as long as I can remember. But I think Steven might be the only person who could talk Olivia into moving north. I'm sure he'll be telling her all about his new digs, what's around, and all the cool things he has planned now that he's living in The City. Wouldn't surprise me if Olivia applied for jobs in San Francisco at some point in the future.
They're both also heading up to my brother-in-law's house in Palos Verdes to have dinner on Saturday night with him, his wife and their son, who is right between Olivia and Steven in age. They're going to have so much fun. Steve (my brother-in-law) has maybe the quickest wit of anyone I know, and he's unafraid to unleash it on our kids, which is great because I think he might just have met his match with Steven and Olivia. I would absolutely love to be at that dinner table. I predict someone ends up doing a spit take (Zack!).
I can't, of course, follow my kids around, so I will settle for hearing their stories when they call and when they come home to visit. And of course I will have all of the pictures they send me of them eating together.
I envision them, as they pass various Potter locations, quoting parts of the books, possibly acting them out. Without a care in the world as to whether anyone around them thinks they're dorks. And let's be honest--they're at Harry Potter World. No one there is going to think they are dorks for doing any of that. More likely they'll all be jealous. I think, although I can't say 100%, that Olivia might be able to quote at least one of the Harry Potter movies from beginning to end. I'm not joking.
In all honestly, I'd actually love to follow them around all weekend (in a disguise so as not to change their behavior). I picture them laughing a lot. I mean close to non-stop laughing. Because they're like that together at home, and away from us parents I suspect they laugh even more, and quite possibly they laugh at us (because again, they do this at home).
My guess is they also eat a lot. I envy them that. They're young and in great shape and if someone is offering them a goblet of butter beer, they're not going to pause to count calories or worry if it's nutritionally sound. Also, I ask them to send me pictures when they're together and a lot of the photos I get are of them eating.
I can absolutely guarantee you that Olivia will be singing lines from "Hamilton" the entire weekend. I will be interested to see if she turns Steven into a "Hamilton" fan. If anyone can do it, it's her. She not only knows all the lyrics, she is reading the biography that inspired the show and she's been researching various parts of the American Revolution because she's interested in the details beyond the story created by the musical. She'll have Steven discussing the merits of the National Bank before he knows what hit him.
He'll also be telling Olivia about his new apartment. Steven just moved to San Francisco and has his own apartment, all to himself, for the first time. It's downtown, just off of the Embarcadero, about a ten minute walk to AT&T Park (crucial information). Olivia has never been interested in living in San Francisco. She's always wanted to live in Los Angeles for as long as I can remember. But I think Steven might be the only person who could talk Olivia into moving north. I'm sure he'll be telling her all about his new digs, what's around, and all the cool things he has planned now that he's living in The City. Wouldn't surprise me if Olivia applied for jobs in San Francisco at some point in the future.
They're both also heading up to my brother-in-law's house in Palos Verdes to have dinner on Saturday night with him, his wife and their son, who is right between Olivia and Steven in age. They're going to have so much fun. Steve (my brother-in-law) has maybe the quickest wit of anyone I know, and he's unafraid to unleash it on our kids, which is great because I think he might just have met his match with Steven and Olivia. I would absolutely love to be at that dinner table. I predict someone ends up doing a spit take (Zack!).
I can't, of course, follow my kids around, so I will settle for hearing their stories when they call and when they come home to visit. And of course I will have all of the pictures they send me of them eating together.
Thursday, June 15, 2017
The Royal "We"
I swear this blog is not going to be forever about the crap that's going on right now, but since the crap that's going on right now is somewhat inescapable for me, indulge me. Please. Especially this particular post.
Are you familiar with the "royal we"? This is when people of high station (like monarchs) refer to themselves in the plural instead of the singular. "We are not amused," Queen Victoria is supposed to have said to someone about something she didn't like. Since we do not have a monarchy in this country we don't hear this type of speech very often, and consequently when someone does employ it that person is often mocked for it, as if he is aspiring to something beyond his station.
I have been using it rather a lot lately. When someone asks how I am doing, I say something like, "We're doing okay. This is hard, and we didn't see it coming, but we are making our way through it." When anyone queries about chemo protocol, my reply is along the lines of, "We have an infusion on Monday, and then a week later we'll have the second one."
I'm not trying to be someone I'm not. I have no aspirations to royalty. But even though I'm the one with the diagnosis, this is not happening just to me. This is happening to me and Dave. Of course it's also happening to Steven and Olivia and my parents and my brothers and my cousin and my best friend... I could go on. But on a daily basis, from sunrise to sleepless nights and everything in between, it's me and Dave, 24/7.
So when I say "We have chemo tomorrow," I mean Dave and I have chemo tomorrow. It's me who gets the drugs, but it's Dave who gets up in the morning with me and makes sure I take my meds and makes me breakfast and packs a bag of snacks. He drives me there. He sits with me and holds my hand. He refills my drink. He checks if I'm doing ok. He tells me I'm doing great.
And when someone asks me how I'm doing and I say "We're tired but staying positive and we're doing ok," I mean I'm tired from the drugs and Dave is exhausted from doing the shopping, the cleaning, the laundry, the cooking and the constant positive reinforcement it takes to keep me from dissolving into a puddle of tears on a regular basis. We stay positive because Dave is a never-ending font of affirmation and visualization and encouragement.
I don't know how anyone could go through this alone. It's a lot to process physically and mentally.
I can't begin to imagine the state I'd be in if it weren't for Dave, if he weren't so willing but also so insistent upon taking such great care of me. Of us.
So I will continue to employ the "royal we" not out of a desire to be someone I'm not, but out of a deep appreciation and gratitude and love for a man who demonstrates every day with his words and his actions that he is with me every step of the way.
Are you familiar with the "royal we"? This is when people of high station (like monarchs) refer to themselves in the plural instead of the singular. "We are not amused," Queen Victoria is supposed to have said to someone about something she didn't like. Since we do not have a monarchy in this country we don't hear this type of speech very often, and consequently when someone does employ it that person is often mocked for it, as if he is aspiring to something beyond his station.
I have been using it rather a lot lately. When someone asks how I am doing, I say something like, "We're doing okay. This is hard, and we didn't see it coming, but we are making our way through it." When anyone queries about chemo protocol, my reply is along the lines of, "We have an infusion on Monday, and then a week later we'll have the second one."
I'm not trying to be someone I'm not. I have no aspirations to royalty. But even though I'm the one with the diagnosis, this is not happening just to me. This is happening to me and Dave. Of course it's also happening to Steven and Olivia and my parents and my brothers and my cousin and my best friend... I could go on. But on a daily basis, from sunrise to sleepless nights and everything in between, it's me and Dave, 24/7.
So when I say "We have chemo tomorrow," I mean Dave and I have chemo tomorrow. It's me who gets the drugs, but it's Dave who gets up in the morning with me and makes sure I take my meds and makes me breakfast and packs a bag of snacks. He drives me there. He sits with me and holds my hand. He refills my drink. He checks if I'm doing ok. He tells me I'm doing great.
And when someone asks me how I'm doing and I say "We're tired but staying positive and we're doing ok," I mean I'm tired from the drugs and Dave is exhausted from doing the shopping, the cleaning, the laundry, the cooking and the constant positive reinforcement it takes to keep me from dissolving into a puddle of tears on a regular basis. We stay positive because Dave is a never-ending font of affirmation and visualization and encouragement.
I don't know how anyone could go through this alone. It's a lot to process physically and mentally.
I can't begin to imagine the state I'd be in if it weren't for Dave, if he weren't so willing but also so insistent upon taking such great care of me. Of us.
So I will continue to employ the "royal we" not out of a desire to be someone I'm not, but out of a deep appreciation and gratitude and love for a man who demonstrates every day with his words and his actions that he is with me every step of the way.
Friday, June 9, 2017
The Lessons of Baldness
I'm bald. Full on, no hair left, shiny head bald.
And as it turns out, it's not as bad as I thought it would be. Of course I wish I weren't. Mostly because of why I am. But the actual bald part--reason not withstanding--is kind of an interesting learning experience. It's just hair.
I don't look half bad bald. My head is pretty symmetrical--Dave says I look great with no hair! My forehead, interestingly, looks way smaller now that I'm bald. I always thought I just had this huge forehead, and I would try to hide it with bangs and various haircuts. Not so bad when I have no hair at all.
I look good in scarves. In fact, today I went out and bought myself a few pair of dangly, bohemian-looking earrings (and I have not worn earrings of any kind in years--surprised I still have holes in my lobes), and when paired with a nice flowered black scarf I bought in Paris four years ago--I look downright chic! Seriously--this is a look I would do even if I had hair it's that good!
I have a couple of new little hats that look just adorable. You can totally tell I'm bald even when I have them on, but they still look really cute, and I would definitely leave the house wearing one and not think a thing about it.
I've gotten GREAT at doing my eyebrows. That's important right now, in my estimation, because all the sudden focus is on my face being framed by the hat/scarf, and for karmic reasons beyond my understanding (cause I think I'm actually a pretty good person) about six months before this whole fiasco started my eyebrows started getting all patchy. So patchy eyebrows, no hair... means you learn to make your eyebrows look good. Which I have. Thanks to my lovely daughter, who taught me this handy little trick: When you put your moisturizer on, don't forget to put it on your eyebrow area, and then apply your eyebrow powder to that--your entire eyebrow area is your canvas, the powder sticks great and it stays all day! Thanks Beebs :)
I've learned that I can pull of a hipster beanie. Or at least my family says I can pull off a hipster beanie. I'm inclined to believe them.
I've found that if you're bald and wearing a scarf or a beanie and you get warm, you can simply take off the scarf or the beanie and solve the problem. Not so much the same when you have hair. I'm not saying the former is preferable to the latter. I wish I had hair. But since I don't, it's nice to find some positive in the situation.
So all in all, being bald has so far helped me learn how to do eyebrow makeup, taught me I can accessorize to complement a look, helped me learn that I actually have more than one look, and maybe the most important thing it's taught me--it's just hair.
It's still me. My family looks at me exactly the same as they always have. They don't see bald. They see me. And they think I'm beautiful.
And as it turns out, it's not as bad as I thought it would be. Of course I wish I weren't. Mostly because of why I am. But the actual bald part--reason not withstanding--is kind of an interesting learning experience. It's just hair.
I don't look half bad bald. My head is pretty symmetrical--Dave says I look great with no hair! My forehead, interestingly, looks way smaller now that I'm bald. I always thought I just had this huge forehead, and I would try to hide it with bangs and various haircuts. Not so bad when I have no hair at all.
I look good in scarves. In fact, today I went out and bought myself a few pair of dangly, bohemian-looking earrings (and I have not worn earrings of any kind in years--surprised I still have holes in my lobes), and when paired with a nice flowered black scarf I bought in Paris four years ago--I look downright chic! Seriously--this is a look I would do even if I had hair it's that good!
I have a couple of new little hats that look just adorable. You can totally tell I'm bald even when I have them on, but they still look really cute, and I would definitely leave the house wearing one and not think a thing about it.
I've gotten GREAT at doing my eyebrows. That's important right now, in my estimation, because all the sudden focus is on my face being framed by the hat/scarf, and for karmic reasons beyond my understanding (cause I think I'm actually a pretty good person) about six months before this whole fiasco started my eyebrows started getting all patchy. So patchy eyebrows, no hair... means you learn to make your eyebrows look good. Which I have. Thanks to my lovely daughter, who taught me this handy little trick: When you put your moisturizer on, don't forget to put it on your eyebrow area, and then apply your eyebrow powder to that--your entire eyebrow area is your canvas, the powder sticks great and it stays all day! Thanks Beebs :)
I've learned that I can pull of a hipster beanie. Or at least my family says I can pull off a hipster beanie. I'm inclined to believe them.
I've found that if you're bald and wearing a scarf or a beanie and you get warm, you can simply take off the scarf or the beanie and solve the problem. Not so much the same when you have hair. I'm not saying the former is preferable to the latter. I wish I had hair. But since I don't, it's nice to find some positive in the situation.
So all in all, being bald has so far helped me learn how to do eyebrow makeup, taught me I can accessorize to complement a look, helped me learn that I actually have more than one look, and maybe the most important thing it's taught me--it's just hair.
It's still me. My family looks at me exactly the same as they always have. They don't see bald. They see me. And they think I'm beautiful.
Tuesday, May 30, 2017
The Rabbit of Seville
How doooo!
Welcome to my shop
Let me cut your mop
Let me shave your crop!
Daintily! Daint-til-ly!
Let me cut your mop
Let me shave your crop!
Daintily! Daint-til-ly!
Hey yoooou!
Don't look so perplexed
Why must you be next
Can't you see you're next?
Yes, you're next!
Yoou're so next!
Don't look so perplexed
Why must you be next
Can't you see you're next?
Yes, you're next!
Yoou're so next!
...
These are the opening lyrics to the Bugs Bunny cartoon "The Rabbit of Seville", which is a spoof of The Barber of Seville opera.
Steven and Olivia serenaded me with this little ditty as Dave cut my hair off this afternoon. Those two goofballs singing in their best Bugs Bunny voices put a smile on my face when I easily could have been crying. I thought I was going to cry. I actually told everyone I would probably cry. But in the end I didn't. No one did. We just all laughed our way through "The Rabbit of Seville" as my hair got progressively shorter and shorter, all the way down to 5/8 of an inch.
I'm sure tomorrow morning when I look in the mirror it will be a shock. And I'm sure at some point I will cry because I have no hair. Or at least maybe I'll cry some more because of why I have no hair.
But today, the day we shaved my head, was a good day.
First off, Dave was okay with cutting my hair, for which I am so grateful. He could have easily said he didn't want to do something so traumatic and asked me to go to my hairdresser, and I would have understood. But he didn't. He approached it with clarity and tenderness, and that in turn made me feel calm and confident. Not an easy task, making a girl in my situation feel calm and confident. But he does it every day in a million little ways.
The kids came and sat outside with me through the whole thing. They sang (see above). They gave Dave compliments on his barber skills--we discussed the fact that perhaps Dave missed his calling. Olivia held my hand for a time. Steven told me with a genuine earnestness that I looked great with a shaved head--he thought I'd fit right in sitting at a table in a Starbucks with my computer, kinda hipster.
Tomorrow will probably be hard. I'll venture out with a scarf or a hat. I'm sure people will notice. They will be polite and smile. They might feel badly for me. But they shouldn't.
Because today, the day we shaved my head, was a good day :) And that makes me the luckiest girl in the world.
Friday, May 12, 2017
I Got to Watch My Daughter Row Today
NOTE: This is being posted roughly a month after I actually got to watch Olivia row.
I got to watch my daughter row.
It's fun to watch her row. She takes it very seriously and not at all seriously. At the same time. It makes me smile to see her do this. Mostly because it makes her smile when she's doing it.
I think it's her approach to life.
Olivia is just plain and simple one of the happiest people I know. She is effervescent and optimistic. And also driven and pragmatic. She's a girl who drags herself out of bed at 3:45am to go to crew practice, actually pencils in a nap on her daily calendar, and giddily face-times me and Dave when she has successfully cooked herself a new dinner recipe.
She can simultaneously be overwhelmingly challenged by something and completely enthralled with it.
And that's her idea of fun. Thus, the crew team.
The girl had never rowed a boat in her life when she got to college. And early mornings were NOT in her repetoire. Yet when she got an email saying the crew team was looking for new members, she responded. She joined. She got up early. She rowed.
She made an amazing group of friends. Somehow an eighteen year old young woman with no crew experience took over the team! You know that person at a party, the one who everyone wants to sit at their table? Olivia was the girl everyone wanted in their boat. And it's not hard to understand why. She showed up every single day. She rowed as hard as she possibly could. She encouraged all of her teammates. She participated fully, throwing herself without abandon into every aspect of being a teammate.
I think the best story Olivia has told us about her time on crew (and there have been MANY stories) is the one when she's on an ERG machine toward the end of this last season. The coach has surprised the women's team with a 2K ERG piece, which means each teammate gets onto her own rowing machine and rows as hard as she can for 2000 meters (as measured on the electronic display on the machine). They don't all row at once, as there aren't enough machines, so half of them row and then they get off and the other half rows. When you're not on the machine you're cheering on the rowers who are. So Olivia is on her machine, and she's got a goal. It's been the same goal since day one of being on this team--she wants to row a 2K in under eight minutes. This is a thing. Every single young woman on this team wants to achieve this goal. It's a badge of honor if you do it. Not many do it. It's hard.
So Olivia is rowing, and the display is telling her that she's on pace to row very close to an eight minute 2K. She starts pacing herself. The machine is reading that she's rowing exactly on pace for an eight minute 2K. She's rowing as hard as she can, but she somehow manages to row just a little bit harder. Her teammates are starting to gather around her machine. They've noticed what's going on. They're yelling at her. For her. Cheering her on. Encouraging her. She doesn't think she can row any harder, but if she does she just might come in under eight minutes. To the screams of her teammates, she finishes the 2K in 7:59. She wants to throw up, but she starts crying instead. Because she's wanted to do this for so long. And she finally did it.
Olivia is not a competitive person. Except with herself. If a team goal is not achieved, but she's done her part and has given her very best, she won't stress over it. You can only do what you can do. But if she really thinks she can do something, she will try and try and try until she's exhausted herself of every ounce of effort. She doesn't need to win because it's winning. She simply needs to know she's given it her all.
So back to the topic of this post. Dave and I went to San Diego to watch the Chapman crew team row in the Crew Classic. This is a huge event. It's considered the opening of the season. There are teams who fly across the country to row at the Crew Classic. So Chapman, tiny little college that it is, is rowing against schools like University of Washington (have you read Boys in the Boat?), Cal, UCLA, Harvard, Michigan and Boston College--schools with powerhouse rowing programs.
The Chapman women's team knows they don't really stand much of a chance against a lot of these teams. But they're excited anyway. They're happy to be there, and they're happy to be there together.
And I got to watch my daughter row a 2K race in an eight-boat. I got to see her approach a race she knew they weren't going to win with the same attitude she would approach a race in which they thought they might take first. I saw my daughter, who doesn't love the racing aspect of crew, give it her all--and I mean her ALL!-- for a little over eight minutes. When the Chapman boat crossed the finish line, it didn't seem to matter much to her what place they came in. It mattered to her that the eight girls all worked together to try their hardest. She took the rowing seriously. She took her effort seriously. She took the race not at all seriously. I love that she can do that.
Watching Olivia row reminds me that even though it's daunting and really hard, it can also be a lot of fun to push yourself beyond what you think your limits are. As long as you're doing it because it makes you happy.
I got to watch my daughter row.
It's fun to watch her row. She takes it very seriously and not at all seriously. At the same time. It makes me smile to see her do this. Mostly because it makes her smile when she's doing it.
I think it's her approach to life.
Olivia is just plain and simple one of the happiest people I know. She is effervescent and optimistic. And also driven and pragmatic. She's a girl who drags herself out of bed at 3:45am to go to crew practice, actually pencils in a nap on her daily calendar, and giddily face-times me and Dave when she has successfully cooked herself a new dinner recipe.
She can simultaneously be overwhelmingly challenged by something and completely enthralled with it.
And that's her idea of fun. Thus, the crew team.
The girl had never rowed a boat in her life when she got to college. And early mornings were NOT in her repetoire. Yet when she got an email saying the crew team was looking for new members, she responded. She joined. She got up early. She rowed.
She made an amazing group of friends. Somehow an eighteen year old young woman with no crew experience took over the team! You know that person at a party, the one who everyone wants to sit at their table? Olivia was the girl everyone wanted in their boat. And it's not hard to understand why. She showed up every single day. She rowed as hard as she possibly could. She encouraged all of her teammates. She participated fully, throwing herself without abandon into every aspect of being a teammate.
I think the best story Olivia has told us about her time on crew (and there have been MANY stories) is the one when she's on an ERG machine toward the end of this last season. The coach has surprised the women's team with a 2K ERG piece, which means each teammate gets onto her own rowing machine and rows as hard as she can for 2000 meters (as measured on the electronic display on the machine). They don't all row at once, as there aren't enough machines, so half of them row and then they get off and the other half rows. When you're not on the machine you're cheering on the rowers who are. So Olivia is on her machine, and she's got a goal. It's been the same goal since day one of being on this team--she wants to row a 2K in under eight minutes. This is a thing. Every single young woman on this team wants to achieve this goal. It's a badge of honor if you do it. Not many do it. It's hard.
So Olivia is rowing, and the display is telling her that she's on pace to row very close to an eight minute 2K. She starts pacing herself. The machine is reading that she's rowing exactly on pace for an eight minute 2K. She's rowing as hard as she can, but she somehow manages to row just a little bit harder. Her teammates are starting to gather around her machine. They've noticed what's going on. They're yelling at her. For her. Cheering her on. Encouraging her. She doesn't think she can row any harder, but if she does she just might come in under eight minutes. To the screams of her teammates, she finishes the 2K in 7:59. She wants to throw up, but she starts crying instead. Because she's wanted to do this for so long. And she finally did it.
Olivia is not a competitive person. Except with herself. If a team goal is not achieved, but she's done her part and has given her very best, she won't stress over it. You can only do what you can do. But if she really thinks she can do something, she will try and try and try until she's exhausted herself of every ounce of effort. She doesn't need to win because it's winning. She simply needs to know she's given it her all.
So back to the topic of this post. Dave and I went to San Diego to watch the Chapman crew team row in the Crew Classic. This is a huge event. It's considered the opening of the season. There are teams who fly across the country to row at the Crew Classic. So Chapman, tiny little college that it is, is rowing against schools like University of Washington (have you read Boys in the Boat?), Cal, UCLA, Harvard, Michigan and Boston College--schools with powerhouse rowing programs.
The Chapman women's team knows they don't really stand much of a chance against a lot of these teams. But they're excited anyway. They're happy to be there, and they're happy to be there together.
And I got to watch my daughter row a 2K race in an eight-boat. I got to see her approach a race she knew they weren't going to win with the same attitude she would approach a race in which they thought they might take first. I saw my daughter, who doesn't love the racing aspect of crew, give it her all--and I mean her ALL!-- for a little over eight minutes. When the Chapman boat crossed the finish line, it didn't seem to matter much to her what place they came in. It mattered to her that the eight girls all worked together to try their hardest. She took the rowing seriously. She took her effort seriously. She took the race not at all seriously. I love that she can do that.
Watching Olivia row reminds me that even though it's daunting and really hard, it can also be a lot of fun to push yourself beyond what you think your limits are. As long as you're doing it because it makes you happy.
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