Summer is here!

My brother has a theory that everyone’s earliest memory involves a traumatic or negative experience.

In my first memory, I’m lying on the bathroom floor at my grandparents’ house in Castro Valley, CA. My head is on the shag rug and I can see the pink porcelain bathtub out of the corner of my eye. My mom is changing my diaper, so I couldn’t have been much older than two. 

My mom was one of the original hippies who made her own bread with whole wheat, fed us carob instead of chocolate, and owned moon shoes at one point. She and my dad were strong supporters of the public library and the only TV we were allowed to watch was a half hour of Mr. Rogers. On occasion, we could watch a half hour of Sesame Street as well, but only if dinner was taking longer to cook than intended. We were cloth diaper kids. 

On this day, however, I was in a disposable diaper.

I distinctly remember a sharp pain as the diaper was pulled from my inner thighs to be removed and seeing red marks where the edges had been cutting into my tender toddler legs. And I remember thinking “my thighs are too fat for this diaper.”

At two years old, I was ashamed of my body.

Even though my house was absent of a strong media presence, I grew up aware that my large, unconventional body was not ideal and tried to hide it behind baggy clothes. 

Visits to the doctor’s office, where my weight was spoken about in hushed, concerned tones, didn’t help. 

I struggled with body image throughout adolescence and young adulthood. I dieted and exercised and binged and counted points and bought a Fitbit and dieted some more. Four years into my marriage and during graduate school, I lost forty pounds, dyed my hair blonde, and for the first time in my life felt a modicum of self-confidence.

Soon after I became pregnant with our oldest daughter and 17 months later had her sister. Needless to say, I gained back those 40 pounds and then some.

Very early on, my husband and I agreed that we needed to be very careful about how we talked about our own bodies in front of our children. No “I’m so fat” comments or disdainful pinching of flabby areas.

When we first moved to Kansas, the girls were one and two. Unaccustomed to the hot, humid summers here, we sought refuge at the YMCA water parks. Each trip I found myself carrying the baby on a hip and chasing after the toddler with fake self-assuredness as my white, dimpled, post-partum body was on display for all of greater Wichita. Inside I was embarrassed and mortified, but I would be damned if I remained hot and sweaty one second longer.

And thus, a tradition was started. Each summer we get hot and sweaty and find ourselves headed to the Y for a swim. Every year the girls get older and taller and pretty soon I won’t need to get in the pool with them. Which is pretty ironic, since I have finally made peace with this strong, capable body of mine.

I’m not sure I can pinpoint when exactly the change occurred. Maybe it was the decrease in negative talk after my girls were born. Maybe it’s that now I care more about creating memories and experiences than meeting a superficial standard.

Or maybe it’s that I finally see myself through my daughters’ eyes.

A few summers ago, we all went swimsuit shopping. The three of us were crowded into the changing room and my daughters “helped” by taking all the suits off the hangers. As I began this dreaded process, my underwear poked out the bottom of each possibility, creating weird, extra folds on my thighs and belly. Some of the tops were a bad fit and the fluorescent lights accentuated the rolls cascading down my back.

And yet, with each new suit I tried, my girls would exclaim “that looks so pretty!” or “oooooo, so fashionable!” Their comments were pure and honest and they didn’t see the flaws that I was so quick to fixate upon.

What a gift I was given that day.

I have these two beautiful, precious girls who will undoubtedly have their own complicated relationships with their bodies. But for now, I’m doing my best to help them love who they are, bodies and all. I try to provide nutritious foods and encourage lots of physical play. I try not to comment on how they look, rather praise them for what their bodies have helped them accomplish, such as running fast, or doing a straight-legged cartwheel. 

My girls are now 7 and 9 and I’m very aware that lots of physical changes are coming our way. I know there will lots of struggles and a huge learning curve as we navigate puberty. But, one things I know for certain: we’ll keep having fun swimming together this summer and for many summers to come.

Another school year in the books

It's the last day of the school year!

I'm sure teachers are looking at summer vacation with visions of bathroom breaks whenever they need them, reading for pleasure, and later bedtimes.

I'm sure my kids are looking at summer vacation with visions of afternoons at the pool, frozen yogurt for dinner, and endless play time.

I'm looking at the summer months a bit more realistically. I'm sure the girls will be asking for snacks every 30 minutes and I know there will be significant amounts of bickering in the beginning. However, I'm also looking forward to hanging out with my girls, saying yes as much as possible, and reconnecting as a family.

(Side note, both my kids bought recorders at the music store yesterday, so there's that...)

This year has been so good for Ruby. I've seen her grow in confidence and bravery. I'm most proud of the way she faced some anxiety filled events and proved to herself that she is capable of doing really hard things.

(She's upset at me this morning because her teacher said not to bring anything in their backpacks today, but I put her lunch in there. We're not sure about the hot lunch situation on this last day, so I decided we should play it safe and send one. This is a perfect example of her tendency toward anxiety.)

Maia also had a great year. She's grown emotionally and is starting to form real friendships with some kids at school. She was a classroom representative on Student Council and we saw her demonstrate a real passion for this job.

At the end of this school year, more than ever, I see the age difference between my girls. Maia is starting to think about puberty and is dealing with more social conflicts than in the past. Ruby is still a "little" girl and always wants Maia to play catch or Life or dolls. More often than not, Maia would rather spend time alone.

They are so close in age, they've always been built-in playmates. The dynamic has shifted a bit and we'll all be figuring out how to navigate this new place.

I'm picking up the girls today from school so that we can give their teachers a small token of our gratitude. I'm feeling the loss that comes at the end of a chapter. I'm so enormously grateful to the women who shepherded their classrooms this year. They held my girls in kindness and love, while keeping them to high standards.

These women saw my kids more than I did some weeks and there are not adequate words to describe my gratitude for their commitment to helping raise smart, responsible, kind kids.

Cheers to the start of summer!

Great Bake Off: Showstopper

I know you've all been waiting with bated breath for our final Sternfeld-Dunn Bake Off challenge and a proclaimed winner.

Life became extremely busy and we kept putting off our final challenge. Honestly, I wasn't hopeful that we would actually get it done.

However, my mother in law had a birthday last week and we figured we'd take the opportunity to celebrate her with two "chocolate cakes that show off our chocolate work" while we are visiting.

The girls were very hopeful that our cake creations would take the shape of something other than cake. Knowing my limits, I decided to attempt a vase made of layer cake, with gum paste flowers coming out the top.

I decided to make cake balls out of the scraps and use as decorations.

The candy melts were ok for coating the cake pops, but I think the ones dipped in regular melted chocolate looked prettier.

I experimented with gum paste for the first time and definitely need more practice.

The final product doesn't really look like a vase, but by the end I was so over the entire project and more stressed than the experience merited that I'm just happy it didn't fall over.

The girls kept saying "it looks like the leaning tower of Pisa!"

Aleks made an "ice cream truffle" using layers of cake, ice cream, whipped cream, and ganache. He also made chocolate leaves from a mold.

The girls were very specific that they needed to taste every component.

The inside does look pretty and you can see where I attempted a crumb layer of frosting.

The inside of Aleks' was very pretty too.

The girls took their judging very seriously and took one bite of everything before moving to a different room to confer.

After much deliberation and heated debate, they came back and declared me the winner! Danni, was very diplomatic and said they both tasted and looked good.

So to recap:

Signature Challenge- Emily
Technical Challenge- Aleks
Showstopper Challenge- Emily

Overall best person/baker/champion of everything- Emily

Maia has decided that this will be an annual challenge. Aleks thinks we should do meat next year...

Snapshot

Just as dinner was ready, Ruby and Maia were given a time out for fighting (a discipline they've perhaps outgrown, but the babyish-ness sometimes brings home the point rather nicely) and Ruby had started dinner in a bad mood. When the girls asked for dessert, my first mistake was pulling the marshmallows out the of bag instead of letting Ruby do it. In doing so, I withdrew 12 mini-marshmallows instead of the typical 10. I pointed this out to Ruby with hopes the extra 2 marshmallows would change her emotional course. It didn't quite go as I planned.

"Can I have 13?"

I swear when this kid sees the boundary, she is biologically wired to see if it will move. I said no, which was the momentum she needed to deliver a full blown tantrum. Having taught 14 lessons that day and in no mood to negotiate, I started clearing the dishes and went into the kitchen.

Aleks joined me shortly and over Ruby's cries, told me that she had looked him straight in the eye and stuffed all the marshmallows in her mouth while she continued to scream. We were laughing over the absurdity, when Ruby's cries changed from anger to panic. She ran into the kitchen with a mouth full of bloody marshmallows and a front tooth all askew.

"Spit those into my hand" I encouraged, as she hiccoughed back sobs. As I moved to wash my hands, Aleks grabbed a paper towel and pulled out her tooth causing the screaming to resume. Since the tooth was lost a bit prematurely, blood was slowly trickling out of her mouth. I handed Ruby another paper towel and she held it to her gums.

I pulled Ruby into a hug and felt her little body shake. Between the tantrum and trauma of the lost tooth, there had been a lot of chemicals firing through that little body. It took her a good 15 minutes to calm down. By the time we headed up to bed, she was exploring the new space in her mouth and speaking with an adorable little lisp.

Did I mention we keep the marshmallows in the freezer?

This kid challenges me like nothing else ever has. She is also such a light in my life. Her interpersonal meter is off the charts. She is immediately good at almost everything she tries. She has the best legs, muscular and long. She gives warm, firm hugs, is quick to make us laugh, and is extremely bright. She is also a lot like me.

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Things Maia has said to me this past week:

1. On Tuesday I was teaching at home and Maia had come in from playing outside. She walked from the kitchen and through the music room with her nose in a book. As she passed between the piano and my student, heading for the stairs, she said "Good day sir."

2. As I was folding laundry, Maia walked into the bedroom said, "Whacha doin'? I'm just groovin'" and walked out.

3. After her final basketball game yesterday Maia said, "There are 2 things we need to work on. 1) stealing the ball 2) passing the ball 3) getting rebounds."

4. The 2nd graders dissected a cow's eyeball last week. Maia was very stressed about the whole thing, but she did learn a lot about the eye. Her class has been talking about science and one night at dinner Maia said "What if Ruby and I are the first scientists in the family?" I immediately said "that would be amazing! What can I do to help you?" As much as I love my musical family, I think it would be wonderful to have a scientist in the mix.

I don't see Maia as much now that she's in school all day and then has her nose buried in a book when she gets home. She doesn't seem to need me as much as her sister. However, she is such a wonderfully weird and amazing child. It's hard to remember the colicky hell she put us through during the first 9 months of her life.

Maia is agreeable and kind. She is logical and matter-of-fact. She loves to read and is just beginning to say she's a tomboy. In fact the other day the girls were talking about makeup and Maia said, "I'm not a makeup girl. I'm more into sweating and basketball." Ruby immediately took offense and said "I wish I had a different sister. Maia doesn't like beautifulness!" The girls are still best friends and are continuing to learn how to respect and listen to each other.

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It's hard to write an update about Aleks. Our lives have been busy and full I feel like we haven't connected in awhile. We should plan a date night.

Honestly, recording our podcast has been a really great thing for our relationship. It's forced us to sit and focus just on the conversation at hand . I've really enjoyed the process and getting to know each other in a different way after 13 years of marriage.

We've got two more "What Makes?" episodes airing this season. Tomorrow's episode is "What Makes a Good Apology?" and I talk with a special guest. It's a great episode and I hope you can tune in. Our last episode is "What Makes Great Sex?" We've yet to record this last one; it's felt a little intimidating. I'm sure it will be funny. Or not. It may just be awkward. Why is sex so complicated?

You can check out our first season at www.whatmakespodcast.com.

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In the past 5 months, I can recall two separate times when I was so scared/nervous to try something new, I almost cried.

The first was getting into a handstand at a CrossFit workout. I wasn't sure if my arms were strong enough to hold up my body and was worried that I would fall onto my head and mess up my neck. I was kind of hemming and hawing and I looked my coach in the eye and "I have three gigs coming up in the next few weeks. Are you sure I can do this?" She said "yes, you can" and with that I was upside down against a wall.

The second happened this weekend when I went to my first dance call.  It wasn't pretty. Well, all the other young, flexible dancers who could do the combination in the correct order were beautiful, but what I did in my group of four was not exactly that. Some of my students kept saying, "but you had fun, right?" and actually no, it was not fun. It was terrifying.

Both those things felt risky. There was a certain element of physical danger in the first and a potential damage to my pride and reputation in the second.

What I've learned from doing new, scary things is that it is an important and necessary step in self improvement. By putting myself in situations where I am massively uncomfortable, I have made dramatic investments in my ability to empathize.

I wish the moral of my stories were: do something scary and succeed immediately!

However, I'm still scaling my handstand with head cushions. My arms still wobble and I support more of my body weight on my head than I probably should. I don't think I'll see any immediate casting results from the audition I took this weekend.

What I have gained however, is the knowledge that I can do scary things. As I get older I realized several things:

1. The doing of whatever it is you are attempting is 80% of the journey.
2. Allowing myself to take risks gets harder each year.
3. Surrounding myself with a loving, gracious tribe has become incredibly important. My CrossFit family is always encouraging and excited for each other and any small steps forward. I was overwhelmed this weekend by the support of my friends and students who, after watching my Instagram story, sent me texts and messages of support.

I'll leave you with one last thought:
I truly believe that vulnerability creates bridges between people. In my experience, coming from a place of vulnerability and authenticity has always been met with kindness and grace.

So, go out there and try new, scary things and know that we're all rooting for you to succeed!

A Typical Practice Session or Why I Don't Teach My Kids Piano

It usually takes a good amount of coaxing and perfect timing to get her to sit down at the piano with an attitude that is conducive to efficient practicing.

If she's tired, or hungry, or had a rough day at school, or I pour her milk into the yellow glass instead of the red one I might meet a resistance stronger than the Women's March.

My mistake today was asking her to wash her hands with soap after getting off the bus. There was no way I was going to let her touch my piano with those hands that have been at school all day. I volunteer once a week and see what those kids put in their mouths. Everything. And then they touch everything. I've been on the front lines. Or rather, helping at the center with sensory boxes; sight words are buried beneath grains of rice so the kids have to dig around to find the cards. Also known as the Germ Center. But I digress.

I finally get her to wash her hands, after she's locked herself in the bathroom, but comes running out because of the dead bug on the floor. It's that small distraction that snaps her out of resisting the hand washing and she even uses soap.

Once we get to the piano it begins immediately. But it's so hard! she whines. I take a deep breath and settle in. I tell her that it will be easier today because we've been working on this material for 3 days. I tell her I can help her in ways that will make it easier. I say, come on, we can do this, let's see if I can trick you with these note flashcards.

That bumps up her competitive spirit and she nails all 15 or so of the flashcards. I can't trick you! I exclaim.

We move on to her music and she's lounging on the bench, with her knees pushing at the keyboard, on the verge of rocking the bench onto its 2 back legs. I can address her posture, which might set off an explosion or ignore it and continue. I decide to ignore it. She's probably just trying to provoke me anyway. On this first piece, we've broken apart several phrases for the last three days and so we can now begin to play through the section in its entirety. Ok! So let's remember legato and dynamics! I enthusiastically encourage. I have to be careful. She can read through any saccharine tone, so I work to sound authentically positive.

She makes it through the first two lines, but the transition from 2 to 3 always confuses her. I ask her to try something that will help with the transition. She is now slumped over the keyboard, hair in her eyes, and feet resting on the pedals, so that the keys are slightly ringing when depressed. She does what I ask half heartedly, but she does it correctly! Awesome! I exclaim, now let's do that 3 more times!

The second time isn't quite right and the third time she intentionally uses a wrong finger. I'm not going to give in to the increasing tension in my brain (I swear this kid is going to give me a stroke). That's ok Ruby! I'm still upbeat, yet firm. Let's try it again, I know you can do it because you just did it! She tries one more time, it's not amazing, but it was generally correct and I let it slide.

We make it through the end of the piece, the part we've been working on a lot, and she nails it. I say, that was so good! See how it gets easier because we've been practicing?! I'm so proud of you!

We have two more songs to get through. Mercifully the second one is easier and she can play it pretty well right off the bat. The third one is long and hard and she knows it. I dig deep into my well of patience, which miraculously seems to get deeper the longer I parent. We somehow make it through; I lower my expectations and ignore a lot of eye rolls and sighs coming from her end.

When we're finally done I say something about how it seems like she's having a hard time looking ahead and is pausing a lot. Her arms are folded and she's kicking the pedals again while she whines, but it's hard!

As a private music instructor, I work with a lot of high school kids. I see a lot of personalities. There are some days that I am very aware of the important role of solid parenting. I'll be damned if I'm going to raise an entitled, lazy child. I just don't know if I'm doing it right. What's the parenting difference between the student who knows how to listen, be empathetic, and work at something even if it doesn't come easily the first time and the student who is vapid and apathetic?

It just feels like right now is a critical time. Maybe it's got to suck now, so it won't when the consequences are larger and more permanent? It just feels like I'm failing all the time. Like I'm shouting into the cold, brittle Kansas wind.

I respond to her whining with a lecture about how if we always say something is hard, then we will not enjoy it or get better. If I say, I hate tap dancing! I'm not good at it! Then I'll hate going to tap class and hate putting on my tap shoes and it won't be any fun. (I'm using hate, which is a bad word in our house with the hopes she'll know this is serious stuff) Guess what? I'm not good at tap, but I still go with an attitude of having fun and trying something new and I am getting better!

Her sister pipes up from the stairway, yeah! have a growth mindset!

I'm trying to positive and have a learning moment and I finish and look up and she's got the meanest look on her face and is rolling her eyes and I'm done. You know what, I say, I try really hard to be patient and helpful and even make this fun for you. This kind of attitude is not ok.

I say, no sticker on your practice chart today. I take a pencil and write in the box "practiced, but had a bad attitude." She stomps over to me, looks at the chart, and demands, I need an eraser. No ma'am I say and she storms up to her room.

But you know what, the practicing got done and I am done giving a shit.

I do other things for the next 15 minutes. I help her sister practice. I tidy up the kitchen.

Then I head upstairs. Her room is locked. I knock and wait a minute before using the little unlocking metal thingy that sits on top of her doorsill. The light is on and she is nowhere to be seen. I look around the bed and she is lying on the floor with a huge stuffed dog pulled over her face.

I sit down and place my hand on her leg. Can you tell me what you're feeling? I ask. Angry, comes the muffled reply. Why? Because I didn't get a sticker on my chart. Do you remember the rules about the chart? No. You get a sticker on your chart if you practice with a good attitude. Did you have a good attitude? I don't know. Do you think you could have been more polite? Yes. Well, you can't be mad at me, I was only following the rules. I stand and leave.

We have to be at a basketball game in 45 minutes. Getting her into the car could take that long. Or she might come willingly when asked. It's impossible to know which it will be today. I decide to take a risk and wait 15 minutes before starting to herd everyone outside.

Not even 10 minutes later I look up from my phone and she's standing next to me.

I'm sorry I threw a tantrum.

Oh Ruby I exclaim, I forgive you. I'm sorry I was impatient with you.

And just like that we have time for a snack and a book before we get in the car for Maia's game.

Probably 80% of the time I feel like I'm swimming in the ocean, not totally sure I'm headed in the correct direction. I don't suppose I'll ever know if I did it right. Check back in with me in 10 years and we'll see if anything has changed. Hopefully we'll see two empathetic, thoughtful, motivated young ladies. And maybe one mom who feels like she did something right.