Helping Out

There were a couple of instances in the last week that made me realize how thoughtful the girls are.

Last week during one of the many snowstorms we had, I was out shoveling the car so I could get to work. After about 10 minutes, Stef came out in her coat and pajamas. "Dad, I want to help you shovel" This was quickly followed by Jess, who also wanted to help, and who was also in her coat and pajamas.

Yesterday I was trying to clear off what could easily be called "shrice" (a mixture of slush,rain, snow and ice) from the walkway. It was miserable out, but after a few minutes, both girls were at the door with their coats on. "We want to help," they said. It was way too shricy out for them, so I told them thanks but they should really go back inside. They did reluctantly.

Then last night I came home, and Stef had made my entire dinner herself, as well as an awesome brownie concoction with chocolate icing in the middle.

It made me realize that helping someone when they don't ask for it is even more impressive and appreciated then helping someone who does.

Time Capsule

Every once in a while Steffi will hear me talk about politics (imagine that). She recently asked me if I was a Democrat or a Republican and for the first time, I wasn't sure. I remember being about her age and starting to read the newspaper because I was just getting very into sports. Occasionally I would glance at the front of the paper or watch the news with my mom. Between this and comments I heard from my parents, what little I knew about the Presidents could be boiled down to this:

(then current) President Jimmy Carter: nice guy, peanut farmer, trying to make peace in the Middle East (I always thought Camp David should be called something more formal).

JFK: Great President. He was Irish (so are we) Catholic (so are we); he helped get man on the moon and challenged us to "ask not what your country can do for you..."

FDR: THE GREATEST President. He ended the Great Depression and improved the lives of millions of people with the New Deal. Built the middle class. Elected 4 times!

Nixon: He was a crook and then Ford took over and he was clumsy.

I bring this up because if Steffi were to ask me to point to great Democrats in history, I basically have to dust off the 1977-78 talk track above. Oh, and the current President is a Democrat who really wants to be Reagan.

Now excuse me, I have a sports page to read.

The Dance

Saturday was the annual daddy daughter dance for Jess and I. She was not feeling well but as expected, she did not want to miss the dance. As I noticed with Stef, the older Jess gets the more she actually wants to dance with me. Of course she spent a lot of time running around with her friends, dancing, comparing jewelry, outfits and the candy they took from each table, but we did get to dance to a few numbers before she ran out of steam due to not feeling well. The only thing we missed was the obligatory "livin' on a prayer" closer from the D.J., but I'm never sure if that one is for the girls or the middle-aged guys pretending they can reach the high notes of the chorus.

Overall we had a blast and we can't wait to see the pictures.

Basketball Personality

I finally convinced the girls to go to the open gym at the Y to play basketball. Last Saturday we spent a couple of hours shooting hoops, and I thought the way each of them played reflected a part of their personality. Stef had a quiet confidence about her, finding that being a few inches taller then the last time we went made all the difference in being able to reach the ten foot basket and make shots. She hit a lot of bank shots from all angles and was really getting the hang of shooting.

Stef also wanted me to teach her how to do a layup. She spent quite a bit of time determined to get the hang of jumping off one leg and hitting the spot on the backboard that I told her would guarantee the ball would go in. It reminded me of how she puts her mind to certain things in order to master them.

Jess, on the other hand, must have taken 700 shots and made about 4. She had a most unorthodox shooting motion, hopping on both legs, landing, then jumping up again, then shooting. I hadn't seen anything like it since the Felix Unger leg kick. She was getting nowhere near the basket, but she didn't get upset, angry, or defeated; she smiled ear to ear while chasing down every errant shot. She is always about being in the moment and enjoying it to the fullest, and if that included hopping like a bunny and shooting a ball 3 feet short of the basket then so be it. I gave her some advice on shooting but really, she seemed to care less about making a shot. I think she just liked being with me and Stef.

So the girls learned a little about basketball and I learned a little more about what makes them tick.

Words

I have been very conscious of trying to instill and reinforce confidence, self-esteem and a positive attitude in the girls. When they talk about the future, I tell them they can do anything they want if they try hard enough. So I was really forced to think through what I've sometimes used as a flippant remark about, of all things, the Dallas Cowboys. They were playing about a month ago and Stef asked, "Which team is that?" I said, "The Dallas Cowgirls".

"Why do you call them Cowgirls when the team is the Cowboys?" she asked. Which made me think "yeah, why do you call them that? Like the old comment, "you throw like a girl," am I trying to say that that is somehow inferior to a boy? Stef got the vibe that I meant it derisively. It did seem a little cavemanish the more i thought about it. Especially when I tell the girls there are professional women's sports teams that they could play for when they grow up.

Earlier today, out of nowhere Stef said, "Dad, remember you called the Dallas Cowboys the Dallas Cowgirls." "Yes," I said. "I don't know why I said that. But I do know one thing. A team of Cowgirls would beat a team of Cowboys any day of the week."

"Yeah!!" Stef yelled as she went back to her room.

Yeah indeed.

The Explanation

Stef is a cheerleader for the football team, but she's admitted that she doesn't really understand the game at all. I've offered for her to watch the Giants with me but she repeatedly declined, until this past Sunday. Having to explain why there are four downs, why they are called downs, why the first down is called first down, why they need to go 10 yards and not more or less became a little exhausting, and that was just in the first five minutes. Trying to explain why a quarterback runs or throws (hint - it has to do with the 10 yard thing), why yellow flags are thrown, what a punt is; it all became a little much for the both of us. Stef slowly stopped asking questions and left after I yelled at Eli for throwing an interception that was returned 101 yards for a Cowboys touchdown. She doesn't understand why I hate the Cowboys so much (it's like asking why does the sun rises in the East - I don't know, it just does).

The whole thing reminded me of one of George Carlin's best routines - the difference between baseball and football. I can't figure out how to link to it here - just search George Carlin baseball versus football and it will pop up.

Halloween

This Halloween was bittersweet, and not just because a neighbor handed out grapefruits and sweet tarts (okay I'm kidding. It was grapefruits and twizzlers). This was the first Halloween where Stef did the friend trick-or-treating thing. Because I was with Stef a lot on Friday and Saturday, I was privy to the extensive texting, phone calls, and in-person meetings necessary to get five pre-teen girls to agree (eventually) on a meeting spot. I didn't even ask her if she wanted to trick or treat with Jess and I, fearing it would shoot me into some type of Halloween-induced fourth dimension for interfering with the sanctity of the first ever friend-trick-or-treating-without-my-parents-plan.

I still vividly remember walking a 16 month old Stef through the Scotch Plains Municipal Building, her Blues Clues tail wagging back and forth as I tried to explain to her that if she held out her bag a stranger would drop a piece of candy in it. This was her first official active participation in trick or treating; at 4 months old we pushed her around in her stroller up the block for all of 5 minutes, her annoyance with an itchy pumpkin costume soon abundantly transparent.

It's another example of the "they grow up so fast" axiom, although she still isn't too old to share a tootsie roll with the old man.