Great Expectations

Some of my best old pals and me in the good ol' days
Photo Credit: Stacey Miller

All of my old high school chums know how I dreaded the end of every six weeks. A mediocre "B" on a report card would see my coveted phone ripped from the wall until straight As were once again achieved. The only time my mom willingly accepted a "B" was following a long period of daily trigonometry tutoring she certainly couldn't afford, but conceded to anyway, to keep me from failing. Oh, I shiver now at the thought of bringing home a "C". That meant no drinking beer in the woods, ahem, no movies for six weeks.

Last week, while reading Amy Chua's essay Why Chinese Mothers are Superior in the Wall Street Journal, a bell went off. I had a Chinese Mother.

My mom  and my sister Wendy, 1968

Of course I don't mean that literally. My mom was a blonde, green-eyed, Scotch-Irish beauty who lived life to the fullest. I've missed her everyday for over six years now. What I realized, after too many years, was that my mom EXPECTED me to bring home straight As because she knew that I could. Crap. She was right. Piano lessons and rigid music theory were a huge part of my life until my final pitiful guild performance of Starlight Waltz brought me to tears, and my mom accepted at last that I had not inherited her natural gift for tickling the ivories. In contrast to Mrs. Chua, however, I was always allowed sleepovers, and participation in school plays was cause for celebration.

This reflection on my childhood has caused me to examine my expectations as a parent. Not only do I expect straight As from my boys, I demand them. I expect and demand of them to be better than me in every possible way. Just like a good Chinese Mother, I hover over them after school until the work is done, and promptly send them outside to play, ride bikes, sprint or do plyos. A "B" on anything is never praised, but questioned. My boys know all too well that if they bring home a grade below a "B" that traveling for BMX is out.

Wyatt inherited not only my mom's blonde hair,
but many of her talents too.

The vast difference between my mom and me is that she was a single mother, which meant there was never anyone hovering over me to confirm that I was meeting expectations. It was up to me to motivate myself, or suffer the consequences.

Mrs. Chua states: "To get good at anything you have to work, and children on their own never want to work... Tenacious practice, practice, practice is crucial for excellence; rote repetition is underrated in America."


Hmmm. I agree, with one exception-- children on their own never want to work. Of course they do! It's called self-motivation, and it must be taught.

One of William's better gates in Columbus.
Photo credit: J-Rods Photoshop

William has been plagued with gate trouble since his elbow dislocations, first in August (read Delusions in my Head), and again in October (read Déjà vu). He has worked and worked to try and regain his "snap", which he says he no longer feels. This past Saturday, we took the boys to ride the ABA track in Middleburg. Without a word from his dad or me, William did gates repeatedly. By the end of the night, improvement was obvious, and he was visibly pleased with himself. On the drive home, I asked him what he felt he had accomplished during practice. "My snap! I felt it. It's back!" This, he accomplished through his own self-motivation and will.


One thing I've learned is to expect more from my boys than they expect from themselves. Many times they've crossed the line in first, grinning from ear to ear, and said, I didn't think I could do it. Their dad and I look at each other knowingly and say without doubt, WE knew you could.




BMX Mom

NBL Christmas Classic: Winter dreams do come true

The excitement of Christmas quickly abated as we headed north early on December 26th to race the NBL Christmas Classic in Columbus, Ohio. Flurries began falling before we hit Atlanta, and the boys actually chose the scenery over movies and ipads. Just north of Knoxville, the weather turned into what any Floridian would certainly call a blizzard. In the midst of watching cars swerve off the road, and snow plows rumble by, my dad calls to ask if we've packed an emergency kit with flares and blankets. Um, no.


With darkness falling, and Vann growing more weary by the minute, the snow finally stopped, and the road cleared before we hit Ohio. "See?" I said. "Winter dreams do come true!" My nerdiness brought chuckles from the back seat.

The next day we watched the President's Cup, and realized that with a 300+ moto count, we were going to have to extend our stay. William met his new team mates, and was so excited to get to know them. He was thrilled with his new gear, and it was like Christmas all over.

Thanks to Big Daddy, we were the first ones in the convention center on day 1 of the Christmas Classic. After a brief practice, Wyatt took a long nap, knowing it would be several hours before his first moto. He never seemed to fully awaken, and was unable to clear semis in his first novice (excuse me-- challenger) race.

William's cruiser main (Photo credit: bmxnow.com)

William, however, was excited-- maybe too excited. In his first moto in 9 expert, he barely saved himself from flipping the gate, and did an interesting nose manual down the starting hill. He couldn't replicate it if he tried. Incredibly, he righted himself and raced on to take 3rd. After that, he had no trouble winning his remaining motos, and taking a 2nd in the main. There is definitely no shame in coming in second to DK rider Spencer Cole. That kid rides like greased lightening. William would love to come in ahead of him one day. The 9 cruiser class actually had semis, which is a first as far as I know. William perfected the day in cruiser, and felt confident for day 2.

Vann let the boys sleep in the next morning, knowing that they needed rest more than practice. Wyatt had a better look about him, and seemed ready to give it his all. He easily cleared motos taking a 3 and a 4. His semi brought tears to my eyes as I watched him qualify for his first challenger main with a 3rd place finish.
Winter dreams do come true.

William with team mates Coleman Habib and Samantha Brown

William had gate trouble again in his 9 expert main. He rounded the first turn in 6th, and turned on the jets. He crossed the line in a close third, not willing to accept anything less than a podium finish. Cruiser class was a repeat of day one, with William taking another perfect.

That night, the boys blew off steam running around with friends, while we relaxed at the bar. As exhausting as it was, we agreed it was the best race event ever. The best part was adding new friends to our bmx family!

The next morning, William, pale from fatigue, looked sadly out our hotel window. "Everything ok?" I asked. Quietly he said, "I don't want to go. I had forgotten how much I love to race." A moment later came the question... "Can we go to Indy?"
Maybe... IF...
Winter dreams do come true.

Felt 2011 (photo courtesy of Samantha Brown)

From our family to yours, have a happy, healthy and prosperous new year!

BMX Mom

A Tribute to Schanewolf: The Joy and Pain of Moving On

William and John Schanewolf at the 2009 Grands

For the first time in two years, William will be riding with new colors. He'll be sporting the red and white of Factory Felt. When the offer came, William's answer was an enthusiastic yeah! followed by a contemplative pause... What about Mr. Schanewolf?


A little more than two years ago, Mr. Schanewolf scouted a jumpy 7-nov who couldn't stand to lose, and his rookie baby brother who was happy to come in 4th. He saw potential in the older, and wasn't about to leave the younger one behind. That's the way Schanewolf rolls. If I started riding*, he would take me simply because of my boys.

The kids adore Mr. Schanewolf. He's akin to the awesome grandpa who sneaks the kids treats behind their parents backs. If I turn my head for a minute, my boys will trash their fruit and water, and head for Mr. Schanewolf for a Mountain Dew and Little Debbie cake.

He's always supportive, and understands when a rider has "bad luck". What he won't tolerate though is the "finish line fit". He won't even bring his own grandson, who he loves dearly, to the races anymore for that very reason.

I'm happy to say this isn't goodbye. When I asked him about Wyatt, he chuckled and said, "oh I plan on keeping him around for as long as I can."

Thank you Mr. Schanewolf for believing in my boys.

*At practice last night in Dothan, our friend Joe Herring, a new blog reader, flattered me by asking if I've ever considered becoming a professional writer. Later on the way home when I relayed this to Vann he said, "That's weird". With my feathers ruffled I asked, "Why on earth do you think I couldn't be a professional writer?" "Oh come on Heather", he said. "You don't even have a bike."


BMX Mom

Thanksgiving Holiday and BMX Racing by William Parker

Although we were not a part of the HUGE turnout in Morristown this Thanksgiving, we did have our share of time on the bikes. We spent our holiday in Watercolor, Florida, playing 2-hand touch, and riding bikes to nearby Seaside. 

Strategy: "Go left. No- go right."

Touchdown - Pink Ladies!!

Biking the trails in Watercolor

My sister Wendy thought briefly that we looked like one of those "normal" families.

Big Daddy basting that bird to perfection

Just before Thanksgiving, William was forced (and I do mean forced) to present a speech for the Florida Tropicana speech competition that begins in 4th grade. I share it with you now, exactly as he typed it. 

GO! GO! GO! GO! GO! THAT’S WHAT MOM AND DAD SCREAM EVERY TIME I AM IN THE LEAD! BMX.THAT’S MY SPORT.THERE ARE A LOT OF TIMES YOU WILL CROSS THE FINISH LINE WITH A SMILE ON YOUR FACE OR A HUGE FROWN.YOU EITHER WIN OR LOSE. IF YOU ARE A GOOD RIDER YOU WILL USUALLY WIN.THERE WILL ALWAYS BE A PERSON YOU WILL HAVE TROUBLE BEATING. IF YOU ARE A SMART RIDER, YOU WILL HAVE A BETTER CHANCE OF BEATING THAT PERSON. BUT YOU HAVE GOT TO TRY YOUR HARDEST.YOU CANNOT WIN EM ALL. BUT IF YOU ARE ON A TEAM AND THEY ARE COUNTING ON YOU TO WIN AND YOU QUIT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RACE BECAUSE YOU ARE IN LAST PLACE, THEY WILL NOT BE HAPPY WITH YOU. BUT IF YOU STILL TRY YOUR HARDEST, THEY WILL NOT BE MAD WITH YOU.

BEFORE YOU GO OUT TO THE TRACK AND START RIDING, PUT THIS INTO YOUR MIND: BMX IS A DANGEROUS SPORT. I HAVE BROKEN 2 BONES AND DISLOCATED 2 ELBOWS. I FEEL BAD FOR MY PARENTS HAVING TO PAY ALL OF THOSE MEDICAL BILLS. BUT I DO NOT THINK THEY MIND THAT MUCH. THEY JUST LET ME RECOVER AND I GET BACK ON MY BIKE. ALMOST EVERYONE IN THE SPORT HAS BROKEN A BONE. SO NOW YOU PROBABLY REALIZE THAT BMX IS A DANGEROUS SPORT. THAT SHOULD NOT STOP YOU FROM TRYING THE SPORT.

IF YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT BMX IS, YOU NEED TO KNOW. BMX RACING IS ON BIKES AND HAS LOTS OF JUMPS AND TURNS.THE RACE STARTS WITH A STARTING GATE THAT DROPS WHEN IT IS PROGRAMMED TO.THE STARTING GATE HOLDS UP TO EIGHT PEOPLE. NOW THAT YOU KNOW WHAT BMX IS, IT WILL HELP YOU UNDERSTAND THIS SPEECH.

THERE IS ONE THING NOBODY LIKES ABOUT RACING: LOSING. NO ONE ENJOYS LOSING BUT LIKE I SAID, YOU CANNOT WIN EM ALL. IF YOU ARE ON A WINNING STREAK AND THEN ONE RACE YOU COME IN FIFTH PLACE, YOU WILL BE UPSET. BUT IF YOU ARE USED TO NOT COMING IN FIRST, YOU WILL NOT BE AS UPSET IF YOU COME IN FIFTH PLACE.

 

I HAVE HAD MANY JOYFUL MOMENTS AND SOME NOT SO GOOD MOMENTS IN BMX. LIKE WHEN I WON MY NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP IN 2009.THAT WAS PROBABLY MY MOST JOYFUL MOMENT IN BMX. THIS YEAR UNFORTUNATELY, I DISLOCATED MY ELBOW 4 WEEKS BEFORE THE NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIPS. I COULD NOT BELIEVE I RACED.NOBODY COULD. BUT I DID AND I MADE THE FINALS. ANOTHER JOYFUL MOMENT WAS WHEN I WON THE REGIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP SERIES. BMX IS AN EXCITING SPORT, BUT IT IS NOT EASY TO WIN A NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP.YOU HAVE TO TRAIN EVERY DAY AND YOU CANNOT EAT JUNKFOOD. YOU HAVE TO STAY VERY HEALTHY. I HOPE TO BE THE WORLD CHAMPION SOMEDAY. I HOPE YOU THINK BMX IS PRETTY COOL. I DO.YOU EITHER WIN OR LOSE AND YOU WILL ALWAYS HAVE INJURIES.YOU SHOULD NOT BE AFRAID OF INJURIES.YOU ARE JUST HAVING FUN.BMX IS REAL COOL TO ME.


Happy Holidays from our family to yours! 


See you in Columbus!!


BMX Mom

Missing Dixie

Dixie Parker
October 6, 1994- November 13, 2009

Early last fall on a moonlit morning, I carried Dixie out. She stumbled a few steps into the darkness, as best she could, and struggled through her business. I suddenly felt a swoosh very near my cheek, and saw the large shadow as it ascended with a soft "whooooooo". The predator seemed ethereal, searching for the old and weak, and I quickly thought-- Not today. Please don't take her today.


I had learned to wake up in the mornings and grab the mop and clorox before heading to the porch where Dixie spent her last months. A bacterial infection had gripped her stomach that September, and wouldn't let go. Nevertheless, I clung to the hope that she would be the first dog to live forever, prompting some strange new religion.

On the morning of Friday, November 13, 2009, I opened the porch doors and flipped on the lights. My heart sank. Dixie, trying to get to the door, with no one there to open it for her, had soiled the entire patio, finally collapsing in humiliation in her own mess. I left Vann in charge of waking the kids, making breakfast, and packing lunches, so I could carry Dixie out into the cold for an unavoidable bath. While she dried outside, I nuked the porch with clorox.

I watched Dixie carefully. I talked to her, wanting so badly for her to respond. I wanted her to answer the question for me. Are you ready? She was so tired, and I was too. I didn't want to let her go, but looking in her eyes, the answer was there. It was time.

Vann and Dixie, November 1994

Dixie was my first dog. Very young and very much in love, Vann and I added her to our happy home in November of 1994. Dixie was with us through all of the changes that young adulthood brings. During grad school, she would sit under my drafting table until I'd stagger to bed at 4 am when a project was complete. When William was born, she'd sit at my feet during my endless hours in the rocking chair, listening to my secrets. Sometimes, if I felt alone, I would wrap my arms around her and tell her all my worries. She would rest her chin on my shoulder, and let me hug her.

Busted!

Dixie had one weakness-- FOOD. She relished holidays, which always tested her food swiping skills. A black blur would go by and biscuits would be gone. One Christmas we couldn't figure out what kept happening to all the cashews. My sister must've put out ten pounds of nuts all over the house. Vann's mom, a perfect southern lady, had made a chess pie one Father's Day. When it was time for dessert, all we found was an empty pie plate on the floor, prompting some four-letter words in perfect southern lady fashion. At my best friend's birthday brunch, Dixie ate half a breakfast casserole, and a tray of chicken salad sandwiches. She would drive our baby sitters crazy by jumping on the table and eating William's lunch while Wyatt was being put down for a nap.

She was perfect.

I called Vann. I called the vet. The arrangements were made. I held Dixie as she let out her final breath, her fur soaking up my tears.

A few hours later, after breaking the news to the kids, we were on our way to High Springs for state qualifiers. We couldn't get out of it, as we had committed to taking William's friend Gabriel with us. Knowing we wouldn't leave the track until very late that night, Vann decided to check into our hotel-- The Days Inn in Alachua. It looked pretty raunchy on the outside, but I had seen worse. We headed to the track without entering our room.

I went about my race-weekend duties, registering the boys, and helping Vann set out the canopy and chairs, all the while feeling numb and stupefied. I told anyone who would listen that my dog died today. I loved on every dog I saw.

Around 10 o'clock that night, we finally headed to our hotel. The room was, to me, uninhabitable. Vann pulled back the 1970s bedspread to reveal sheets that I couldn't imagine crawling into, much less allowing my offspring to do the same. We grabbed our bags and retreated. The boys and I waited in the truck while Vann went to negotiate the return of our money. According to Vann, an irritable Indian woman, shrouded in a cloud of curry, appeared from behind the counter. I watched from the safety of the truck as Vann argued with this woman about the condition of the room, threatening to contact the Better Business Bureau, etc. Finally she told Vann he could obtain a refund if HE went and made the bed that the covers were pulled back on. Well, the answer there was not no, but HELL NO. Vann emerged with our refund just in time to witness the inebriated, elderly cowboy that was urinating in front of our truck. This day had been way too much for me.

With two exhausted boys, and a wife on the edge, Vann pulled into the Econo Lodge. This lobby had the tolerable aroma of burnt coffee and stale pastries rather than curry, and our over priced room was clean. Vann knows my limits, and he knew my mind was gone. Lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, I remember Vann saying, "boys, leave your mother alone."

William in the lead with Joseph Leto on his heels.

I felt like a zombie the next two days, but was grateful for the distraction of watching the kids race. William had an incredible weekend, trading firsts with Joey Leto in both expert and cruiser. Wyatt was entered in the "turkey open", where all main makers would win a turkey. Wyatt didn't make his main, and was very disappointed until he discovered that the turkeys were frozen. He thought he was racing for a live turkey.

When the weekend was finally over, we went home to the faint smell of a dog who was no longer there.

Now we have Zoey. Her life revolves around William and Wyatt instead of Vann and me. She may not know my secrets, but she will know theirs, and that's the way it should be.

Wyatt, Zoey and William

Dixie lies forever under an antique camellia, where in the spring, winter's pink blooms softly fall.

Déjà vu

No one ever said life was fair.


How many times did my sister and I hear my mom say those words? These words echo in my head, and I've accepted this statement and learned to live with it.

This was our first true weekend of fall in north Florida, and the boys only entered the staleness of the house to eat and sleep. Yesterday they rode bikes and played football, their dad joining them for an afternoon throwing session, while our lab pup Zoey ran alongside. All William did was go out for a pass...

Zoey, running with William, was suddenly under his feet. William hit the ground in an ordinary fashion-- just as I've seen him fall hundreds of times. Suddenly there was yelling.


My elbow's out my elbow's out!


William NEVER cries wolf. I darted from the porch, and Vann was already to him, examining his right arm-- the one dislocated exactly two months ago (see Delusions in My Head). But William cradled his left! How could this be? No, life isn't fair.

We could see it. William knew it, and we did too. The end of his left radius was clearly amiss, leaving a strange crater in its place. Vann scooped him up and we headed for the bowels of the earth -- the ER at Tallahassee Memorial Hospital. We attempted the milder Urgent Care first, where William was doped with morphine and sent to the x-ray room. The first image showed that both the ulna and radius had dislocated. The doctor-on-call, who I wanted to personally strangle, ordered further images.

While I clutched William's shoulders, the x-ray tech wrenched William's arm onto the film, suddenly popping one misplaced bone back into place. William stifled a yelp, and then, "It's back in!" Yes indeed. However, the second film still showed the ulna twisted to the side. The doctor I would like to strangle grew confident, and proceeded to tell my 9-year-old to visualize his bone moving back into place while he yanked and twisted. William's face grew red, and then pale. I thought he would vomit. I thought I would vomit. We were promptly sent to the main ER for sedation.

One week ago in Tallahassee

William relaxed a bit in anticipation of his ketamine fix. After more waiting, William was doped, and his elbow was reduced, while a roomful of Tallahassee Community College EMT students watched and took notes.

What a day.
What a kid!

BMX Mom

The 2010 NBL Grands: The Great, the Bad, and the Good

I've been beaming with pride ever since both boys made the main Sunday. For both of them to clear semis unscathed is nothing short of miraculous. William, after perfecting motos, took a spill in his main no more than 10 yards from the finish line. Nothing made me prouder than the way he quickly picked himself up and finished with dignity. He was disappointed, and we had to remind him that he had done what he wasn't supposed to or expected to do. Against doctor's orders, he had not only raced, but raced hard and made the main.

By the time Wyatt's 7 rookie main rolled around the dust was a heavy fog around the track, and I'm convinced I've contracted the black lung. Wyatt shot out like a cannon and took the lead. I used what remained of my dirt filled air supply to scream my head off. On the second straight, he slipped to second. He held onto second to the bitter end, where he was passed at the line. No matter. We were ecstatic with Wyatt's third place finish. I ran around to hug and congratulate him, and he was coughing dust and gasping for air. When he could finally speak, he asked, "Can I PLEASE go bungee jumping now?" He had waited all day.

Now it's time to air the dirty laundry, and I'm not referring to the dusty clothes in our suitcases. We heard many complaints from dedicated NBL families about how ill they were treated on Wednesday. I'd share our own personal experience, but I don't have time to attend anger management. Why, I ask, could we not set up canopies during Wednesday's clinic? Three hours of melting in the hot sun is no way to watch kids work their tails off. Open parking at noon Wednesday. Why the delay? We're all lined up anyway. Let us in! I have an idea-- How about we skip impromptu parking lot meetings concerning who goes in first. Come on, really? Lastly, if you have to repeatedly remind people that you are track president, you're probably not acting like one.

Fortunately, the good far outweighed the bad. The volunteers were A+. Not once did I wait in a long line. Everything appeared smooth and efficient. The new BMX Nation magazine was a big hit, and helped lend excitement to the NBL changes. The bright vertical sponsor banners were not only aesthetically pleasing, but safer than the former low banners. One big improvement was the new gate, which I heard no complaints about. Although long, the race was run at a timely pace despite the many accidents. Speaking of accidents, I'd like to give the most kudos to the EMTs who were responsive and thorough, making the event as safe as possible.

When we finally arrived at our hotel Sunday night, William plopped down on the couch. "I'm so glad that's over." "Why?" I asked. "The pressure. You just don't know, Mommy." I listened to my 9-year-old describe staging. How he tried to talk to his friend who was stoically holding back nervous tears, while the other 9 experts, jittery and agitated, chattered amongst themselves about nothing in particular. Some of them are pressured by their team-- We're counting on you! Many of them by parents-- If you would just guard your line! A few are grasping at something they can't bear to let go-- I can't lose this title! Most of all, they are pressured by each other. I watched William's 9x class closely. It's chock full of great kids and skilled riders, and I commend them. I commend all the riders. They showed that it takes not only strength and skill, but courage and character to race at the NBL Grand Nationals.

See you next year!

BMX Mom