Homework: Act Like a Lady...Think Like a Boss

When I picked Shea up from school today, we set off for home and had our daily small talk.  We covered our usual topics of school, play, her friends, etc.  We then set the agenda for the day.  We were going to go to the store and then return home for homework.  We agreed that both of us were going to do our homework.  She had a composition to write, and, guess what?  So did I.

I had to do my own daily homework of writing, and we agreed to do it together.  I hadn't planned on sitting down to write, but an opportunity presented itself, and I decided to take it.  Thus, you find me here in the blogosphere brainstorming on what to write.  This can oftentimes be the hardest part for a writer, discovering your subject, but today was easy as I latched on to a small detail from my drive to pick up Shea.

On the way to the school, I was behind a car with the bumper sticker, "Act Like a Lady...Think Like a Boss."  My first reaction was, "Right on, sister."  Then I stuttered a moment and had to rethink my original idea.  I wasn't sure if I liked the "Act like a lady" part.  I decided this would be a great chance for Shea and I to have a talk about it, to pick her brain and see what she thought about what it meant to "act like a lady."

After our initial small talk, I told her about the bumper sticker I saw and asked her what she thought.  Her first answer, "Good."  I had to press her a little bit to see where she truly stood.  I followed up with, "What is a boss?"

"Someone who tells other people what to do.  Like at work or a teacher."

"Is that different from being a lady?" I asked.

She had to think hard on this one.  "Yes," she said.  "Ladies are nice."

"Is it mean to tell someone what to do if you are in charge?" I asked.

"No," Shea said after a moment.

"So a lady can be in charge and tell people what to do, right?"

"Yeah," Shea said her voice rising in excitement.  She was on board with this whole train of thought.

"So...if ladies are supposed to be nice, then what other types of things are ladies supposed to be?" I continued.  I even air quoted the "supposed" to emphasize the point.

Shea struggled with this one, so I changed my line of questioning.  "Is there anything a lady is not?"

In my college lectures, I always tell my students that it is easier to say what they are not than to actually say what they are, so I took this tact with Shea.

Shea came back with, "Boys can lift heavy stuff."

"OK," I said, "But how often do you practice lifting heavy things?"

"Not a lot," she said.

"So what would happen if you practiced lifting heavy things?  Would you get better at it? Would you eventually be able to lift heavier and heavier things?"

"Yes," she said.

"OK," I said, "so are there girls who can lift heavy things?  Girls who work hard at being strong?"

"Yes," she said.

"So would you say that girls are strong?"

"Yes," Shea said, again her voice rose at the idea.

"So it's not just boys, is it?"

"Nope," she said.  She even had a hint of a giggle in her voice.

"So, let's run through some words and you tell me if it describes girls."

"Okay," Shea said through her smile.  She's used to me by now, and she knows my little word games with her.

"Strong."

"Yep," she said.  I lobbed the ball to her on that one.

"Smart."

"Yep," she said.

"Funny."

"Yep," she said.

"Pretty."

"Yep," she said.

"Powerful."

She took a moment on this one.  She asked me what the word meant.  I told her that being powerful meant that you could do things on your own, that you commanded respect from others, and that you were able to do things on your own without help.

"Yep," she said.

I reached across the car and gave her a high five.  "Sounds right to me," I said.  This girl makes me proud.  She has a natural sense of her own power, but I'm always careful to have conversations with her that reminds her of it.  In all my time as a college instructor, I saw so many young women who had lost a sense of their own power and were slowly reclaiming it through the process of a self-guided education, but it makes me wonder at how spectacular they would be if they simply didn't have to go through that culturally indoctrinated period of self-doubt.  As a parent, I know some of it will happen, but I hope to be an advocate of my daughter's own self-worth throughout her lifetime,  to maybe soften some of the trappings of adolescence.

It was a wonderful conversation, and one that I hope she remembers and takes to heart.  If she doesn't remember, then maybe she will one day read this and either remember or be reminded of how her daddy sees her.  When we got home from our errands, my daughter and I sat at the kitchen table together.  She did her school work and I got the chance to reflect on my day with her.  These moments are small moments, the moments that make up a life, and a good life at that.  I hope to spend many more hours working with her like this, showing her that writing, thinking, and questioning are all a part of how we navigate the complexity of life.

All in all, not a bad way to spend an afternoon.

Promise-ary note: You and Me Days

In my house, we have a tradition of "You and Me" days.  These are days dedicated to Shea.  My promise for the week was to spend some dedicated time with my daughter.  It may sound ridiculous to have to promise this, or to give it such a finite and specific time frame, but in the modern life, it is easy to lose track of yourself and your attention.  As such, I liked putting a specific time frame on it, a way of keeping myself accountable.

Last Friday was a free day for Shea.  Her school observes Good Friday, so she her day, and mine, were free to do what we wanted.  She spent the night at her grandparents house the night before, so Tracy and I could go experience the awesome-ness that was "Captain America: The Winter Soldier".  I promised her that I would pick her up at 11 after I got some work done and the "You and Me" day would begin.

When I arrived at the in-laws house, she was ready to go!  She was excited to have me all to herself, and I was excited too.  She quickly got dressed, combed her hair, and literally dragged me along to the truck as we waved goodbye to her grandparents over our shoulders.  The day had begun.

First stop, Red Robin for a quick bite of lunch.  Shea had eaten a late breakfast, so she wasn't hungry, but I hadn't eaten a thing.  As a compromise for being patient while I ate, She scored this:

Strawberry milkshake deliciousness

She barely drank any of it, claiming it was too sweet.  Shea doesn't get a lot of sugar, so things like this can kind of be an overload.  While we sat in the booth, Shea told me about school, made up stories about the different decorations around the restaurant, and simply caught me up on her life.  She was on OUTPUT!  I don't think she stopped talking the whole time we were there.  It was nice to hear about her friends, how she was getting along at school, and just listening to how big she is getting.  She's beginning to have a sense of fairness-unfairness about the world, and some of those distinctions bother her at times.

After lunch, we were off to the Family Fun Center in Wilsonville.  Tracy, Shea, and I have been here a couple of times now.  We've celebrated birthdays with Shea's friends and just popped in as a family for a little bit of mini-golf.  It's a great place to hang and play if it isn't too busy.

Because she's been there a couple of times, Shea knew exactly what she wanted to do.  She shot across the arcade the minute we were inside the doors and ran to the bowling game she loves so much.

Ready for some frames!

I made a concerted effort to keep my phone in my pocket pretty much the whole time we were there (beyond snapping a picture or two).  We played arcade games, climbed through the KidZone play structure, shot some mini-golf, and played a wall-sized version of Connect Four, which was a big hit for her.  What surprised me was how good she'd gotten at the game.  She didn't need any encouragement from me on where to place her pieces.  She's grasping concepts and strategies more and more all the time.

While the point of all of this is to simply make myself available to Shea, I reap a ton of rewards as well.  When I give dedicated time to her in unusual environments, then I get to see her capacities in a whole new light.  My little girl is growing up fast, and her development is only accelerating.  I was amazed at how social and outgoing she was with other kids in the KidZone.  She was especially sensitive to the little kids, making sure they were doing okay and giving up her turn on slides and things so that they could go first.

While mini-golf was more a comedy of errors than anything else, I can see her working her body in new and interesting ways, which is a blessing for a father who has watched her go through years of physical and occupational therapy.

Fore!

She was crushing the ball, and starting to get a sense of form down (when she wasn't running after the ball and smacking it willy-nilly!).

More than anything else, I walked away from the day realizing how much more of a conversational partner she is these days.  She tracks stories really well, remembering interesting details and pieces of dialogue.  She has a sense of social justice, or fairness, that exceeds anything I think I was aware of at that age.  There are times when I wonder if this is because she is slightly "different" from the other kids, has other challenges, and so she sees the world in a way I don't fully understand.

When we got in the truck after the Fun Center, she turned to me and said, "Can we have another You and Me day?  This is only our first one this year."  It simultaneously thrilled me and broke my heart.  I thrilled at the thought that my daughter loves having this time together, that she seeks it out, and isn't growing up too fast.  It breaks my heart because it is April.  It is April and I haven't made the special effort to organize a day where I make her feel special too.  I'm with her a lot.  We are together as a family a lot; it isn't that she doesn't have time with me.  It is that I haven't made that special and concerted effort to carve out a space for her that is unique, special, and, above all else, fun.

I'm going to work harder to find my way to her, to find the space in my days to take her to the park, to take her on a hike, to hit up the zoo.  You and Me days are not about extravagance or spectacle; they are about making sure that one of the most special people in my life knows that they are.

In the days that followed, Shea dropped a couple of heart bombs on me.  She said, "Do you know what I love the most about you?  That you are nice and kind to everyone." Heart palpitations nearly killed me.  This was followed a couple of days later by, "I love you, daddy.  I just wanted you to know that."  We were driving to school and it came out of her completely unprompted, just a spontaneous expression of her affection.  This closeness, this bond of affection, is built on You and Me days.  It's built on the idea that love is paying attention.  If you love something, you pay attention to it.  Simple as that.  I need to make sure she feels my attention.  If she does, then she'll never doubt my love.

I wonder what we'll do next?