Caught

It was a matter of time before it happened. A kid tells a parent where they are going to be, only they really don’t go there. The parent innocently calls said place only to learn that the kid isn’t there. People at the place have no clue where the kid is. Parent puts life on hold until the kid is located (generally through a series of phone calls).

In this case, the kid is NOT my kid. But the place the kid was supposed to be WAS my house. As I walked Audrey this morning, passing the kid’s house, her dad asked me to take a key to the kid since she was at my house “for a sleepover.” It didn’t take long before we both realized that we were adults in the middle of a teenager’s lie. There wasn’t much I could do except to share as much information as I had (not much) and the offer to wake my daughter for anything she might know.

We’ve been down this road with this kid before, so the behavior and the lie isn’t surprising. What brought this to a new level was that it was overnight and from the point the kid said she was leaving until my conversation with the dad was a good 8 hours. Overnight hours. And this meant that she went out and didn’t come home. And while things like sex and drugs and other horrible things involving violence to teenage women can and do happen in broad daylight, they just seem more likely in the wee hours. And not in our own homes.

I’m very grateful that Alice hasn’t done anything like this. The object lesson involving her friend is a benefit to my own parenting because it’s a situation we can talk about. Compare her situation to. Compare our communication, issues of boundaries and expectations and consequences (which seems to be part of the problem here). I’m not saying it’s not possible, it just doesn’t feel probable.

Lost

It’s 10:30 pm. A school night. And my daughter is gone. I’ve lost her to vampires and werewolves.

Alice is off with friends for a midnight showing of “Twilight: New Moon.” She won’t be home until nearly 3am. Did I mention it’s a school night?

But all is well. She asked weeks in advance and gave reasonable justification for dispensation from the normal schedule and curfew. A new semester began on Monday. The work load is minimal. Homework is done. The girls she is going with are straight A students – meaning that their homework is done too. The most responsible of the bunch is driving.

And you know what? If only one quarter of this was true I’d still let her go. This is big stuff to a teenage girl. Opening night of a heart throb movie, one that’s been advertised all over and will make a ton of cash, with 3 of your friends (and hundreds of girls you’ve never met)? What could be better? She may run into a few of my female graduate students. It’s just that popular.

When I dropped her off at the driver’s house, I noticed that she was wearing vampire teeth. My little girl: she even went in costume. A chip off the old block.

The way I like my Phil

Just saw Pirate Radio. It was just as good as I’d hoped it would be. Only better. It was tons of fun, an incredible soundtrack (including a few songs that I’d forgotten about and immediately took me to another time), some surprises and an afterglow that I haven’t experienced from a film in a long time. This is the way I like my Phillip Seymour Hoffman: light hearted and in the center of a fun, well done film.

Enjoy the trailer, then go see the film:

Happy with normal

A couple weeks ago, Alice had the chance to meet with a representative from a New York modeling agency. She chose to go to to movies with her friends. Thank Heavens.

Considering that she’s only a junior in high school I couldn’t see the point of it anyway. And from what I’ve heard and read, it’s not a very positive environment. But I appreciated her priority to focus on the familiar, the known and the normal than to seek bigger things.

Recently I’ve encountered families and friends whose kids have not had such normal lives. In one case national, sustained exposure on a national television show; in another, cancer at an early age (perhaps we can put them at both ends of the range in my geeky image of a normal distribution). Extreme situations to be sure, and rare (in the latter case, not rare enough). In the first case, a situation sought for and won and seeing where the ride goes. In the other, a tragic situation that calls on every possible resource to endure. In both cases, off the normal path, a loss of control and independence, “opportunities for growth,” with hopefully only positive outcomes.

I’ve decided that normal is just fine, thank you. There are plenty of opportunities for growth and for learning, ways to find excitement and have our strengths and assets challenged, without going to such extremes. This semester I encountered a situation that consumed a significant amount of time over two weeks and that remains unresolved, around which I heard words like ‘pioneer’ and ‘everyone will benefit from what you are learning…” to put a positive spin on the effort involved in dealing with the issue. Maybe it’s my age and a lifetime of facing minor adversities and new experiences head on and with optimism, but I say, nuts to that.

There’s a lot to be said about the value of normal and average, because even within that there are peaks and valleys and ‘opportunities for growth.’ Sure a little excitement is good; ego boosts and surprise events; speed bumps and guard rails. But for Alice, specifically, I am thrilled that this modeling thing (or the ballet thing, or the tennis thing, or the writing thing, or the art thing) are in the realm of normal. It’s not to deny her opportunities (which is what much of this modeling venture has been) but for now, for her learning and growth, I am – and I think she is – happy with normal.

Costume Drama

Another Halloween has passed. Let’s put this one in the ‘underwhelming’ category. Alice and her friends came to that consensus about the party they attended last night, and I’d say it’s a fitting description for this year’s holiday over all. Yes, Halloween happened at our house – we decorated, gave out candy, carved a pumpkin and watched something appropriate for the occasion. But the decorations just came out yesterday, we were left with lots of candy due to meager traffic, the pumpkin is now in the sole possession of the neighborhood squirrels and I had to sit through a truly horrible film (Coppola’s Dracula). It was, just OK.

But leading up to Halloween things felt pretty familiar around Alice’s costume choice. Every year she agonizes over what to wear. She did this as a kid though I’d try to set a decision deadline of September 30 to give me time to find or make her costume. It’s gotten a bit easier since she’s taken over nearly all aspects of pulling the costume together. And this year she had a truly great idea: Vampire Barbie. Trendy, ironic, and she looks the part. Alice even made a t-shirt with the Barbie name and found a light pink tight fitting mini skirt. She’d experimented with make-up to be appropriately ghoulish and had the fangs.

And then…

She decided against it  – no, she felt compelled not to wear it because of the thing that every teenager fears: being associated with a former boyfriend when you are “so over him.” Alice learned that the Ex had a costume selected for him by his friends and that he was going to the party as Malibu Barbie. Cute idea, if she wasn’t also going as Barbie. For them both to show up a la the Plastic Princess of Abnormal Body Proportions would seal the idea that they were still going out. And Alice would have none of that.

She was back to square one. And spent two days back in agony trying to figure out what to be, and what to where. And believe me, nothing that I could say would shake this resolve.

But her friends did. There were six of them buzzing around the house yesterday in preparation for the party. They were loud and chatty and happy and quite fun to listen to. One of them marched into the kitchen and informed me that Alice WOULD go to the party in what they wanted her to wear. Five friends clearly trumps one mother. And when they left, Alice was, in fact, Vampire Barbie.

And the Ex didn’t even show up.

The Passing of Soupy Sales

Sad news today: Soupy Sales died. He was one of my most favorite children’s TV personalities and I always enjoyed seeing him later on talk shows and game shows. Here’s a bit of Soupy (with Fang):

The thing about Soupy that was so cool was that he was funny, but he wasn’t sappy, syrupy, kids show funny. And now as an adult I wonder why he went into children’s TV and if, when he did he just decided to do his own thing. Because he did – because he ad libbed, looked off camera to whatever crew was nearby, because he looked like he was making it up as he was going along – he was really funny. At 9 or 10 I could see that there was value in double sided children’s programming; that it can be good and funny for kids, but have adult humor too. And by that I don’t meed crude, violent or porno-like. It didn’t need to be 100% for children. Sesame Street knows this and certainly the Muppets people know this. Shows like The Addams Family played right in the middle. And it’s the reason that Fractured Fairy Tales and Rocky and Bullwinkle were waaaay more funny than Woody Woodpecker or the Flintstones.

It doesn’t take much for kids to get the humor thrown at them. Tossing in a bit for the grown-ups helps kids learn other types of thinking about comedy – satire, for instance and information that adults are talking about (Rocky and Bullwinkle dealt squarely with the Cold War).

Back to Soupy. I haven’t thought much about him in the last 30plus years. Then I saw the note online about his passing. And I was reminded what a really cool guy he was. And probably someone who, rather than offering the network a conventional kids show, told them that his slightly twisted, hip way of playing in front of the camera and mugging to furry hands and jazzy hand puppets would work. It sure did for me.

So. Much. Fun.

When your little and you imagine being a parent, mostly you think of cuddling a little baby. As you get older and notice families together in the park or a pool having fun together, and that’s what looks fun about parenting. You think of your kid successful in school, or doing good things for the community and you think of the proud part of parenting. Maybe you consider celebrating holidays, making crafty things or baking cookies, or walking with your kid as she goes trick or treating.

But sitting here at the computer tonight, I realized that one of my thoughts about the fun of being a parent, now of a teenage girl, is being realized right now. There are five girls sitting in my living room, alternating talk to the TV and to each other as they watch Project Runway. They are having a lot of fun, and as Alice’s Mom, sitting in another room, overhearing them, so am I. She is a part of a good group of kids. And they are enjoying themselves and each other, laughing and chatting, together in my home.

Four letter fall

Yesterday was October 10. This is what I woke up to:

Honestly. Snow? On October 10? October 10 as in one month from Labor Day – three weeks BEFORE Halloween – leaves still changing color – I haven’t gotten out my sweaters yet – October 10? Yeesh. Every where I’ve lived the natives have shared the joke about how quickly the weather changes, but I must say that Minnesota takes first place.

This must be karma since our summer was SOOOOOO lovely (as in not too hot, not too cold, not too rainy) for ever. And our September was warmish to the point of wishing it felt more fall like. OK, maybe I wished too hard or too loud. I didn’t mean for it to feel winter like.

College search 2.0

So my understanding of how teenagers have looked for prospective colleges is rather dated. By about 40 years. But my interest in technology is fairly up to date*. So it came as fascinating but not a total shock how Alice is looking for schools. Among other, more traditional methods, she is using a social media site to look at colleges. The site is called College Prowler, and it’s pretty cool.

She can put in her gradepoint, subject interests, regional choices and other information and get matched with schools. Each profile includes her probability of acceptance, and probability of match to her interests. And stable information like details of the school, a link to their website, contact info, some pictures, and messages from students. And, each page offers grades for about 15 features of each school. So she can quickly see how big athletics, academics and greek life are at a glance.

Fun. And cool.

Sure beats combing through boring text-only guides that we had in the 1970s. Big compendia of schools listed alphabetically, meaning that once you found the U’s you still had to wade through pages to find a specific University of… of interest.

Of course it’s not the only way she’s learning about schools. She’s still going to college fairs, talking to people, has a few early favorites (including Wisconsin and Maryland, and including a few schools whose costs have given me chest pains). But for this early stage, it’s great that she has something fun and interactive to explore.

Fan mail

Here’s another thing I love about my daughter: she’s not too old to write a fan letter to a favorite author.

Alice has long been a fan of the Alice series of books by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor. They don’t have a hook like being a detective (Nancy Drew), or part of a group (Babysitters Club) or deal with wizardry or the supernatural. They seem to be a series about a pretty everyday girl whose experiences and exploits are familiar to other (probably white, suburban, middle class) girls. The initial attraction for Alice was that the series featured a character with her name.

Alice was my grandmother’s name. But it’s not very common among the kids born in the early 1990s. So, the good news is that I usually didn’t need to put more than Alice’s first name on things for a teacher to know which was her’s. The bad news is that she may have slightly felt out of place with no one else sharing her name. When she was little and books made a steady entry into the household, we looked for books with her name in the title (Alice in Wonderland, natch, but also Alice and Greta and Angelina and Alice). And somewhere about 3rd or 4th grade she discovered this series.

She’s been hooked ever since. I think the Alice in the book is well into high school now, so like other good young adult fiction, my Alice sees herself in Alice’s experiences. But more than that, the Alice books are written by an author who lived near where we did in Maryland, went to the church we occasionally went to, and featured a friend character whose name is very close to one of Alice’s best Maryland friends.

On her own, Alice told me a couple weeks ago that she’d written a fan letter to the author. I was shocked and surprised and absolutely thrilled. Aren’t teenagers supposed to be known for their apathy and disinterest in others? Especially an adult other, whom they’ve never met and can’t get anything out of? She read the letter to me, then asked if Ms Naylor would like it? Like it? If I were her, I’d start crying, it was so great.

Yesterday Alice discovered that her letter was featured on Ms Naylor’s Alice blog.

The only downside is that not too surprisingly, the author receives a lot of fan mail from readers younger and older than Alice. Her response to Alice’s letter was very nice. But I don’t think my Alice felt too rewarded (I’m reading into her reaction). Perhaps if she’d gotten an email back, or some other personal recognition (which is what she was going for, I believe). But this is the reality of a busy author’s life. She may have someone else do her blog and her fan mail. Or maybe posting letters with a brief response is about all she has time for. Who knows.

I believe Alice’s letter was an honest and pure gesture of appreciation, whatever the reaction. And that gesture has made me an ever bigger fan of my own daughter.