Category: The Boy

Aug 05

How I Became a Football Mom

Last week the boy started football. That’s right, my skinny little skater boy is playing football.

He’s wanted to play for some time now, but I’m not big on kids playing football, nor did I have the money to sink into such a huge commitment. The coach was hearing none of my excuses. He had found my kid in a tree and thought, “hey if he can climb trees and skate, he can probably play ball.”

So he called me and asked if I’d be willing to get the boy to practice the following Monday. I told him I’d do my best and sort of put it out of my mind. That is until the coach called me Monday afternoon to remind me and I had one more excuse: I don’t have a car. But that night the coach got the boy a ride and promised that if I got him to practice, he’d make sure we had a ride home afterward.

And I got him there. I was a little irritated when I discovered that I too would have to attend practice every day (as opposed to just dropping the boy off and going home), but I reminded myself that the boy was playing on sponsorship and that I was doing this for him.

As I watched him train with the other boys, I knew that this would be good for the boy. I knew that this organized play, in a disciplined environment was something that would help me develop the mentality that mediocrity is never good enough. When he looks like he’s hitting a wall, the coach tells him that he’s fine, to push through, that he can do it.

And yesterday when he came crying to me about a cramp in his side, I told him the same thing my coach did: Hands on your head, take deep breaths. I told him that being the best was hard work, to which he responded, “Who said I want to be the best?”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing out here?” I snapped. “Organized sports isn’t really about having fun, Imani, it’s about learning to be the best.”

He took another swig of water and fixed his chin strap.

“If you’re going to do this, you’d better get out there are work your ass off. Do you hear me?”

He nodded.

“Now get back to the line, and give all you’ve got until practice is over.”

And off he went as I looked around wondering if any of the other parents were scoffing at my tough love pep talk. I was relieved to see than none of them seemed to be paying me or my boy any attention. When he ran back to me after practice with a smile on his face, I could tell the pep talk had done the boy well. He had pushed all the way to the end and felt good about his hard work.

Here we are at the end of the second week and all I can say is that I am proud of how hard he works on the field. My baby is growing up, and I am becoming a football mom.

Share

0
comments

Posted in The Boy

May 27

“What’s Wrong With People?! I’m a Big Kid Now!”

It happened again…Quite possibly the biggest fear of any free-range parent: Someone called the police about my son being unsupervised.

This time the call came from someone who had my address, and probably, one of my neighbors.

Unlike the previous run in with the police, the officer did not yell or automatically jump to the conclusion that I was a bad mother. He didn’t assume that because my son was playing at the park, I was negligent.

Instead, he noted that my being home was an indication of supervision and simply asked if my son had a habit of getting into trouble. “Is he responsible? Can you trust him to be where he says he’s going to be?”

No, yes and yes.

And then we both stood there for a moment looking puzzled.

“Someone gave you my address?” I asked.

“Yes,” he responded. “I don’t know how long the call has been in the system, but someone reported that you regularly leave your 9-year-old son alone and unsupervised.” He paused for a moment. “It sounds to me like you’re doing alright. And obviously, he’s not unsupervised if you’re home.”

While I was heartbroken thinking that one of my neighbors might have sent the police to my home, I was encouraged by the officer’s lack of concern. He was kind and assured me that “this stops with me,” and that CPS had not been alerted. He was just investigating a call. He asked a few more questions, thanked me for my time and went on his way.

But I was frazzled by the visit. Again my mind wondered if I had done anything wrong. I began trying to figure out which neighbor or community member might have made the call and why. Was it time for another move? This time with the goal of landing in a more kid friendly community? (Later I realized that this was probably a hangover from the last police visit and the officer probably hadn’t been completely forthcoming in that regard.)

I waited a few minutes and then headed to the park to check on the boy, who was already on his way home. As we hit the stairs, one of the kids from our community ran up and noted that the police had been here. Was everything alright? I told her things were fine, as the boy and I made our way to our apartment silently.

“Why were the police here?” The boy asked once we were inside.

“They said someone made a call about you being unsupervised.”

He was livid. “Again?!? What is wrong with people?!” He said throwing his helmet on the couch. “I’m a big kid now!”

“I know, honey…” I didn’t really know what else to say. I was still processing the whole thing myself. I was afraid, but didn’t want him to be. How could I teach him not to be afraid of the community if I was afraid?

“Maybe…” he started. “Maybe I shouldn’t go to the park.”

In that moment, I knew I had to reassure both of us that we were doing the right thing. “No. We will not be afraid and we have not done anything wrong.”

“But what if this happens again?”

“Then we’ll deal with it.”

I could tell that he was just as shaken as I and for a couple days, he didn’t ask to go to the park.

Thankfully, the fear didn’t last long and yesterday, he asked if he could go visit his friends near the big park. Still nervous about the visit from the police, I decided to escort him. And once he had successfully found a friend’s house at which to play, he quickly waved me away.

I left trying to ignore the nagging feeling, but knew he would make his way home on his own just fine.

If you enjoyed this post, subscribe and don’t miss a thing!

Share

2
comments

Posted in Parenting, The Boy

May 23

He went to the park without me. I checked on him. He didn’t need me

Last year the Boy and I celebrated a play holiday created by Free-Range Kids author Lenore Skenazy: Take Your Kids to the Park and Leave Them There. We biked to the park and I left him at the playground while I rode the bike trails. I was nervous at first, but when I came back 30 minutes later, he had made a new friend.

This Saturday was Take Your Kids to the Park and Leave Them There Day, but we didn’t celebrate. Well…not in any official way. You see, in the year since the one we did celebrate, it has become commonplace for the boy to go to the park on his own and hang out with the other kids…mostly boys. So today was really a regular Saturday for us.

I suppose the real difference is that we’ve learned a lot since then. We’ve learned that while most folks are free-range friendly, there are those who don’t agree with the free-range philosophy. As a result, I pulled back a little, and the Boy hadn’t been able to visit some of his friends at the skate park/community center near our house. Sure there was the school park a block away, but the the Boy was beginning to miss his friends from other other park.

I had worried. Maybe a half a mile was too far. Maybe the big intersection he had to cross to get to the “big park” was too busy for him to cross without my supervision. Honestly, I was more worried about what people would think and do about my son being unsupervised than I was about him being hurt by a stranger, hit by a car or doing something dangerous.

But he wore me down and I started letting him go back to the big park. First for only an hour. Then for two. Then one day he called and said one of his friends was having a party, could he stay? And when I went over to check on him, he was playing with all the kids he had met during our first summer in this neighborhood.

All of this lead to today, when he begged me if he could go to the big park and despite my fear, I let him go with a warning to be careful and call me if he decided to hang out at a friend’s house. Which he did. And later, he called me again to let me know he was at the skate park. I thanked him for checking in, hung up the phone and geared up for a surprise check-up. (I find doing this keeps him honest, he never knows when I’m going to pop up and if I can’t find him where he said he’ll be, he’ll lose some of his precious freedom.)

When I got to the park, he was there, happily surrounded by other skater boys, practicing tricks. I stayed back and watched because I didn’t want to break his focus. It was awesome to see him out there with the other boys, all of them so focused on landing whatever jump or grind they were working to perfect. He fell down many times, as skaters often do, and I resisted the urge to rush to his aid.

And then the boy caught sight of me and I became a distraction from his practice so he asked me to leave. He asked me to leave!

The boy didn’t need me. Now isn’t that what being free-range is all about? So I left him. And it was just another Saturday.

Did you take your kids to the park and leave them there this weekend?

Image by greenkozi

If you enjoyed this post, subscribe and don’t miss a thing!

Share

3
comments

Posted in Parenting, The Boy

May 20

A Lesson in Empathy for the Boy

During the day, I usually don’t turn on the TV. I find it a noisy distraction. The Boy often comes home and after completing his homework, wants to turn on the tube, but I refuse.

It isn’t until after we’ve had dinner that, I go to my room and leave the Boy to get his cartoon fix before going to bed. But last night he came to me and asked if he could watch TV together instead of separate. I was watching The Constant Gardener and hadn’t seen anything in it so far that I thought inappropriate, so I continued to watch it.

After watching for about 15 minutes, the Boy turned his head and said he couldn’t watch the movie anymore. It was disturbing.

I was surprised. There had been very little foul language, no violence or no sexual content. Just a privileged white couple that was becoming increasingly fractured over the wife’s desire to help the impoverished people in an African country.

But I stopped the movie anyway and realized that the Boy was crying.

“What’s wrong honey? What were you disturbed by?”

“Its just…Its disturbing,” he said. “A 15-year-old dying?”

He shook his head as the tears slowly made their way down his cheeks.

There it was, he was disturbed by the depiction of the poverty. The 15-year-old mother of three, who was dying (probably of AIDS) had been just too much for him to handle. And while I realized that he was not yet mature enough for this particular movie, he was mature enough for a little talk about empathy — because that’s what he was feeling.

So I told him that while sometimes we have had some financial struggles, we are very fortunate. We have food, we have shelter, we have nice clothes, and clean water to drink and bathe with. But there are people in other parts of the world who sleep on dirt floors and drink the same water other people shit in. There are people who don’t have the privileged of attending public schools and for many of the children in third world countries, the lunch they get at school is their only meal of the day.

We are fortunate.

I held him close and told him that his empathy was a good thing. People who feel empathy are often compelled to help others. Empathy drives people to make it so that people don’t have to drink shitty water, eat rice mush and sleep on dirt floors. Empathy drives people to work to make it so that 15-year-olds don’t have to die of AIDS.

He nodded his understanding as I wiped away his tears and gave him a big hug.

And then I put on Kick-Ass, a movie with gratuitous violence and foul language, but one that I knew would not leave him feeling sad about the human condition. There will be enough for that when he gets older.

If you enjoyed this post, subscribe and don’t miss a thing!

Share

2
comments

Posted in Movies, The Boy

Apr 22

An hour of exercise a day and an healthy diet keep you skinny…

That’s what the commercial said.

I didn’t actually hear it. The Boy was listening to the TV with his headphones on.

“It said ‘an hour of exercise a day and a balanced diet can keep you skinny and healthy,’” he said removing the headphones and looking at the TV quizzically.

“You sure they didn’t say ‘keep you slim?’” I asked.

“Nope, it said ‘keep you skinny.’ That’s weird.”

And then he did a mini rant about exercising but not just to do it for 60 minutes, but because he’s always outside playing.

I just let the smile growing across my face (how can I not be a proud mama when my kid says something so innocently insightful?) and nodded my approval of his assessment.

But I’m still bothered by the fact that the healthy diet and exercise PSA was selling skinny, rather than health and fun in the sun. Which brings me to the deep feeling of sadness I have when I look around safe neighborhoods and see not a single kid outside playing. And yet, there are commercials telling kids they can be skinny if they exercise for an hour a day.

As the Boy so aptly pointed out, kids could spend the entire day exercising, if they were outside running around, playing.

While society is realizing that our collective health is deteriorating, instead of encouraging kids to go outside and play (and encouraging parents to let them), the TV (a serious play-killer) tells them that if they want to be skinny, they should get an hour of exercise.

There’s a serious disconnect here. So in keeping with the brave free-range steps recommended in Lenore Skenazy’s Free-Range Kids book (which I’ll post an official review of once I’ve finished reading), I gave the boy an index card to show people when and if they ask what he’s doing out there without an adult, and let him go to the big park near our house. Yes, the same park, less than a mile away, from which he was returning, when I was summoned by the police because he went into a fast food joint asking for water. The same park where he made his first friends in the neighborhood; friends he hasn’t been able to see since the incident.

Naturally, I’m nervous considering what happened last time. But we went over the rules, the Boy asked what time he should come home, gave me a hug and went off to enjoy his chance to play. Instead of giving in to the fear, I can rest assured that my kid will be out running around, instead of sitting in the house playing video games, watching TV and being sold 60 minutes of skinny.

If you enjoyed this post, subscribe and don’t miss a thing!

Share

2
comments

Posted in The Boy

Apr 08

Raising interesting people; not “kids”

For most of my life I was content to be invisible. While my younger sister was a fearless social butterfly, I was often content to sit inside reading a book. I made friends with people with huge personalities and let them be the center of attention. Even when I got married, I downplayed my accomplishments and felt bad that I was accomplishing, while he complained about his sacrifice.

I thought that being invisible was my strength. That it meant I was humble and gracious. Instead, it was me being afraid to be myself and speak my truth.

And then I realized that if I wanted people to see my value, I had to stop hiding behind the fear; the fear of actually achieving my greatness.

In fact, its the same thing most people are afraid of: their own success. From childhood, we’re discouraged from standing out — either by peer pressure or because our parents impose their style on us. How many of us were the weirdos and misfits and nerds, all because we were different from everyone else? Our society pretends to value conformity, while those who achieve true greatness are the self-reliant.

So when the Boy told me that his friend didn’t want to be his friend anymore because the Boy was showing off when he did handstands, rapping and dancing, I was a little saddened. I wanted to encourage the boy to work it out, tell him to be considerate of the other kid’s concerns. I understand that I am raising a confident, fearless, stylish and gregarious kid. I also understood that this friend was unhappy that the Boy could do things he couldn’t, and he was probably a little jealous.

So I told the Boy that anyone who couldn’t accept and appreciate him for who he was, who would tell him he should stop dancing, jumping and singing — all some of the Boy’s favorite activities — was not someone he needed to be friends with. Hopefully the other kid will get over it and find his own light within. Until then, the Boy will have to look for kids as confident as he is and comfortable with him being himself.

I want the Boy to know that its ok to be himself and to like who he is. I like who he’s becoming and I’m proud to say that I’m raising an interesting person, and not just “some kid.”

If you like this post, subscribe to my feed

Share

1
comments

Posted in Parenting, The Boy

Nov 08

All he wanted was a cup of water

I know there are people who think the world is not a safe place. I am not one of those people. Nor do I want my children to grow up with this belief. So I give them a long leash.

Just the other day I was gushing about how awesome my neighborhood was. It was only a couple weeks ago that the boy fell and a stranger stopped to ask if he was ok and let him use her phone to call me to pick him up.

Today, I got a rude awakening. My neighborhood, might not be as free-range friendly as I thought. I got a call from a number unknown and answered because the boy was at the park and it could have been him. It was the police, asking if my son was missing. No, I told him, my son was not “missing,” I given him permission to go to the park. The officer asked me to come to their location to pick up my child.

I hopped on my bike and was there in about 5 minutes. I was sort of hoping that I’d be able to ask the Boy what happened, thank the officers for their concern and then be on my merry way. I really should have known better. One officer came out to talk to me.

“So can you explain the situation that led to your 8-year-old wandering the streets alone,” he said.

“He wasn’t wandering the streets, sir. I gave him permission to go to the park.”

“But he’s 8.”

“Yes and we’ve discussed the rules, he knows how to cross the street, he has my phone number,” I said, adding, “there are lots of kids his age that come to this park to play. Its safe and I trust my son.”

“Ma’am,” said the officer with exasperation, “It is not safe for you to let your 8-year-old wander the streets without adult supervision.”

“Again, sir, he was not ‘wandering the streets,’ he was at the park, where I told him he could be, and he stopped in here to get some water.”

“He was scared and hungry.”

“Sir, I don’t believe he was scared. He comes here all the time. This is our neighborhood. Did he tell you he was scared? Or lost?”

“No, but…”

“Ok, so why are you here?”

“Someone called us about a kid here alone.”

“But he’s not injured…can I speak to my son please?”

So I go ask the Boy some questions. He just wanted some cold water. He thought the stranger who had called the police was the parent of one of his friends, so when the guy asked if he was hungry, he said sure. As far as he knew the cops had just arrived to have lunch. He still didn’t know that the police were there because of him.

I went back outside.

“So you guys came here to have lunch?”

“No, someone called us.”

“But why? Because a kid came in and asked for water?”

“Because an 8-year-old was wandering the streets alone, scared, and hungry.”

I repeated that, no, he wasn’t scared and he wasn’t “wandering the street.” He was well within the perameters we had agreed on and I don’t see how a kid walking into a fast food joint requesting a cup of water was a problem.

That’s when the other officer decided he was going to try to scare me. What if something had happened?Someone could have snatched my kid up. He could have hurt himself. I countered that it was highly unlikely that anyone would kidnap my son — or anyone’s son for that matter. It’s a safe neighborhood and I think he can handle riding his scooter a few blocks to a local park.

“Have I broken a law?” I was tired of the back and forth. We obviously weren’t going to agree and I wasn’t going to back down or act afraid. “I’ve done some research and as far as I know, there is no law against letting an 8-year-old go to the park.”

“What research?”

I explained that I had looked up crime stats in for the neighborhood. I’ve come to the park and checked it out. I also looked up latchkey kid guidelines and the guideline is that kids can be left without adult supervision starting at the age of 8.

At this point, the officer starts yelling at me about how he knows the penal code and that it is at their discretion to decide if I had been negligent. When I pressed the issue of whether or not I had broken a law, they called their Sargent to ask what they should do.

Now the Boy is standing outside, wandering what’s going on, crying a little because he can tell something’s not right. And this douchebag cop tells him that nothing is wrong and that’s when I snapped.

“Don’t lie to my son.”

“I’m trying to calm him down,” he snapped back. “He’s scared and crying. I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t need you to help by lying. Don’t tell him nothing is wrong. If that were the case, you wouldn’t be here…”

“I’m just trying to comfort your crying kid…”

“I understand that, sir. But I don’t want you to lie to him. He’s scared and confused because he knows something isn’t right. You just told me that you could charge me with child endangerment or negligence, which means that there is the possibility that things could go very wrong, all because I let him go to the park. So don’t stand here and lie and tell him everything is OK.”

I explained to the Boy that the police didn’t think it was safe for him to go to the park alone and since they think its dangerous, there may be consequences.

No sooner had I said these words than the douchebag’s partner walked over and explained that they were not going to charge me with endangerment or negligence and would I mind letting them see where we lived to be sure he had food, clothing and a place to sleep?

I agreed, in the essence of being cooperative. I don’t have anything to hide and I was afraid my refusal would make a bad situation worse. So I let the one officer come in and the Boy showed him the pantry and the refrigerator. Before he left, the officer reiterated that they could have taken me to jail and the Boy could have ended up in child protective services, but there wasn’t really any cause, so I was getting off with a warning.

Before the officer left, I asked how old he thought would be appropriate for a kid to go to the park without an adult. Definitely not 8 was his first response. When pressed, he said maybe 13 or 14.

So kids should be locked up until they’re nearly adults because of the remote possibility that something could happen. But honestly, I’m more afraid of the busy-bodies who call the police because a kid walks into a fast food joint and asks for a cup of water.

Share

27
comments

Posted in My Life, Parenting, The Boy

Oct 27

The Boy talks to strangers, and it’s good for him


One of my favorite things about the Boy is that he’s super friendly. Always has been. He waves and smiles to strangers and makes friends quickly. I’m friendly, but definitely not as comfortable with new people as immediately as he is.

And I love watching and listening to his interactions. It’s also why its nice to be in a neighborhood where others also wave, smile and talk to strangers. His friendliness is welcome and people talk to him.

The other day we went to our favorite local indie cafe, Sweet Elle, and there was a younger kid there. As is his style the Boy just walked over and started treating the other kid like they were old friends. A few minutes later I saw him ruffle the kid’s hair. I cringed, concerned he had perhaps crossed the personal space boundary, but the kid just smiled and skipped off.

There’s another kid…a teenager really. I had seen him on the bus several times on his way to school. Sometimes he catches the same bus we do on our way home, and the Boy immediately took a liking to him. And the older boy is friendly, answers all the Boy’s questions with a smile and seems to genuinely enjoy the Boy’s temporary company.

Everywhere we go, the Boy is a social butterfly. I think he has his dad to thank for that, because he definitely didn’t get it from me.

Not that it matters though. It’s wonderful to see the excitement the Boy gets from meeting a new person. And he’s always been partial to chopping it up with dudes. Funny how at the age of two, I knew, the Boy was a man’s man. He’s a social butterfly and makes a habit of talking to strangers. You know what? It’s good for him.

He’s confident and resilient. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him bother anyone who didn’t seem open to being bothered and most of the time people are downright delighted by his inquisitive conversation. While I’m sometimes uncomfortable with his comfort with strangers, I usually resist the urge to interfere. Instead I watch and listen carefully while he learns a skill that will make him a success later in life.

And that, is definitely a good thing.

Share

0
comments

Posted in My Life, The Boy

Oct 18

The Boy, the fall and the helpful stranger

I’m always reading about people and their kids being harassed by paranoid, busy-body, safety police at the Free-Range Kids blog. I even had a parent who lives close to The Boy’s school “report” me to the school admins because he showed up at 7 PM asking if their kid could come out to play (to which I responded incredulously: I told him he could go and we live around the corner. I can hear kids playing during recess, we live so close. And there was still sun.).

So, understandably, when I send the Boy out to the park, I worry sometimes that someone will see him and think he’s too young to be out there by himself. But the Boy has always been free-range and living in an upstairs unit in a quiet gated condo community, having parks within walking distance is a necessity for all parties involved. In fact, one of the first things we did when we moved into our new neighborhood was find the closest park and check it out together.

The closest is the school park, which the Boy generally finds boring. But just a little further away is a park with a community center, a skate park, and all sorts of things he can do. Best of all, there are lots of other kids for him to play with as well (with the only adults hanging around to watch the younger kids). He’s even made friends and always makes sure to have their parents call me if they’re concerned with his being out there without adult supervision.

Generally, we’ve learned that our neighborhood is fairly free-range friendly and the Boy goes back and forth from the community center park and home without a hitch. Except yesterday…

He fell and hurt himself on his way home from the park. I figured it was pretty bad because he called me from a stranger’s phone and asked me to come get him. After asking him if he was too injured to ride his scooter home and hearing the distress in his voice, I hopped in the car (rented for the weekend of errand running) and went to pick him up. There he was sitting in a booth by himself, waiting so patiently. When he saw me, he looked so relieved and thanked me for coming so quickly. He exaggerated a little limp and told me that his whole right side hurt from the fall. I could see a bit of evidence, but I decided not to press the issue that he could have totally made it home.

When I asked him whose phone he had used, he said that a lady saw him fall and asked if he needed any help. He asked if he could call his mom to pick him up. He said she didn’t ask about why he was out there alone or anything indicating any disapproval, just let him use her phone told him to wait for me and went on about her business.

And when I picked him up, no one was hovering. The whole situation made me proud of the Boy and my community.

Share

4
comments

Posted in Parenting, The Boy

Oct 10

Street Food Festival Saturday

As you can tell from my absence, I’ve been out doing stuff. Haven’t been back boogie boarding yet…I kinda gotta get a boogie board. But I’ve been out and about, living life instead of watching it pass me by.

So today I took The Boy to the Long Beach Street Food Festival where a bunch of gormet food trucks gathered for some hungry folks. I pre-paid and got there early. I wanted to go to yoga, but I also didn’t want to spend all day in line, instead of eating.

We arrived just as they started letting people in. I wanted to look around a little, but I could tell I needed to decide what I wanted to try before the lines got out of control. We started with Knock Out Taco. The blackened shrimp set my mouth on fire and the Con Carne was seasoned beautifully. I ordered Lumpia from the Manila Machine but the fryer wasn’t on yet, so I told them I’d be back and jumped in line for the Grilled Cheese Truck.

Aside from having to wait in line FOR AN HOUR, the grilled cheese was freaking fantastic. The boy and I both got Grilled Mac n’ Cheese; his with just the basics, mine fully loaded. I know it sounds crazy. I was skeptical too. But The Boy insisted that he wanted a Grilled Mac n’ Cheese. So thats what we had.

The lumpia from the Manila Machine was great to top of the savory before we moved on to the sweet. And the tropical shaved ice was the perfect refreshing desert on a hot afternoon.

The Boy really did enjoy that Grilled Mac n’ Cheese. And I enjoyed his company. A great time was had by all.

Share

0
comments

Posted in My Life, The Boy

« Older Entries

Array