Pom Poms and Touchdowns and Baskets, Oh My!

I don't know if blood is thicker than the water in the Monongahela, but I will admit that culture won out over bloodlines for a while. Despite the fact that she is part Hoosier and the fact that she is part AWESOME, Alexis was not born with a basketball attached to her hand.

I KNOW.

It's so wrong.

But! She was born in Pittsburgh and Pittsburghers only very barely even know what basketball is. The fact that she was born just before the Steelers appeared in the Superbowl confounded the sport loyalties confusion. It took longer than it should have, but the ship has been righted and Alexis has recently been learning all about hoops.

Finally.

She started playing in a completely informal and just-for-fun basketball league a few weeks ago. As expected, she loves it.

(She doesn't have a choice, so it's good that her choice is to love it. Ahem.) (I'm kidding about that "no choice" thing. Mostly.) (Sort of.)

Of course, Alexis is so very ... Alexis, so she takes every bit of her girlie, sparkly, spunky self to practice. She fusses with her hair and worries that it doesn't look right. She wants her nails painted to match her basketball t-shirt. She spends part of the practice trying to tie a cute little knot in the bottom of her shirt.

We won't even talk about how she spent part of her most recent basketball practice doing ballet steps on the sidelines. She did. We just won't be talking about it.

We don't always make the child do what we want her to do, so right alongside all of these basketball practices has been a little something else. It's a little something else that you wouldn't EVER catch me encouraging, but ... meh. If she likes it, so be it.

Cheerleading.

Like, on purpose, like.

Cheerleading practice is every bit as horrible as I expected it to be, but it's OK because Alexis LOVES it. As I tweeted after the first practice, "The groundhog is grinning so I guess that means six more weeks of cheerleading practice." I meant it. I don't enjoy the whole thing, but if she does, great. More power to her. I like that she's her own person, so as long as there is a little balance in her life, it's all good.

And, HOOBOY, is there balance.

Basketball. Cheer. Basketball. Cheer. Back and forth and round and round. She spends hours dribbling a ball in the basement and she spends hours practicing a cheer routine. Over and over and over and over. Back and forth. Round and round.

This evening I decided to ask Alexis to talk about cheer and basketball a little bit. I wanted to make sure she's not getting burned out or anything. I needn't worry, though, because she happily went on and on about how much she loves them both.

Balance. Balance is good.

But then she said it. The Thing.

"Momma, I like cheerleading better than basketball," she said.

I tried to control my horror as I listened to Alexis go on. "Cheerleading is WAY easier than basketball. That's why it's better."

She might have a point there. Maybe.

"Well, that," she continued, "and cheerleading has WAY cuter clothes than basketball."

I am so screwed.

Whoops! I Blinked Again!

In retrospect, it was a perfectly reasonable question, but when the husband asked me, "What do you want for your birthday?" a few days ago, I FREAKED THE HELL OUT.

I haven't finished putting up the Christmas decorations yet. Why in the world would he ask about something that's not for ... weeks. OMG, YOU GUYS, CHRISTMAS HAPPENED.

I know I was there for it and all, but how did that happen so fast? I blinked and we suddenly went from Thanksgiving to New Years and everything in between was a blur of wrapping paper and smiles and waiting and laughter and ... just a blur.

I know I was there that night a few days before Christmas when Alexis gleefully unwrapped present after present from us, squealing with delight at each and every treasure she discovered. She didn't really guide us with a list of specific wishes this year, but when she tackle-hugged us both after EVERY. SINGLE. PRESENT, it was probably a pretty good sign that she was happy with her books and Monster High dolls and such.

A $3 pair of fingerless gloves from Target? SQUEEEEE! THANK YOU SO MUCH! HUGS!

A Monster High doll never seen and therefore never wanted? SQUEEEE! THANK YOU SO MUCH! HUGS!

An admittedly boring pair of skinny jeans? SQUEEEE! THANK YOU SO MUCH! HUGS!

And on and on and on. She opened a gift. She squeed about the gift. She ran full-force to give hug after hug after hug.

The kid sure does know how to show her appreciation, but why couldn't it have happened in slow motion?

After Christmas at home, there was Christmas with that side of the family and Christmas with this side of the family and Christmas with those other people we adore and then Christmas again and again and again.

Somewhere in there Alexis opened a copy of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. It wasn't a "dumbed down" version but rather the original version I read and loved when I was in 4th or 5th grade.

It took her two days to finish it, but she did. Gleefully. It all happened so quickly.

Then we returned home and discovered that Santa had stopped by, except that Alexis already knew there were gifts waiting for her and that I had something to do with it because she had walked in on me when I was placing them in her stocking.

She seemingly ignored the total and complete unraveling of the magic and instead focused on the excitement of discovering things mom and dad have traditionally banished from the house. Gum and candy and even some Hello Kitty lip gloss rings were cherished and hastily hidden just in case.

The Monster High DVD managed to pause time briefly as it was so appreciated that Alexis was stunned silent. She just stared at it for a very long two seconds, grinning and grinning and grinning.

Then there was that moment when she opened the "snowman snow globe that changes color."

Santa was certain that the "correct" version was sold out everywhere and was VERY nervous that Plan B might have been a bad idea. It wasn't, though, judging by the fact that Alexis gushed and gushed and couldn't believe how perfect her little snow globe was.

It all happened so very quickly. I'm sitting here wondering if I have time to decorate an eleventh Christmas tree, but I guess I don't.

There's always next year.

Life Lessons For Her Pretty Little Noggin

"Momma, can I watch TV?" Alexis asked. Her voice dripped with sweetness as she continued, "Please?"

I glanced up and found that her eyes were open wide as she gently fluttered her eyelashes and stuck her bottom lip out in the most adorably pouty way ever. Never before has a creature been so very cute. In that moment, I would have given her a unicorn if I would have had one handy.

"No," I replied, not even cracking a smile.

"Maaaaaaan," Alexis replied as The Cute melted off of her face. She looked me square in the eye and deadpanned, "You're good."

As she stomped away, clearly unhappy that The Cute Act hadn't worked on me, I chuckled. Some day she will have a similar conversation with her own kids. Someday she will know they are trying to charm the pants off of her, but hopefully when that someday comes, she won't give in either.

It wasn't until the next time Alexis grabbed The Cute out of her back pocket and carefully applied it to her face that I paused. I paused in my reaction and I paused in my thinking. I paused. And I paused.

She was asking for a piece of gum. It's the easiest of noes, but yet I couldn't just say it. I couldn't just say "No" and go on with my day.

"Alexis," I looked deep into her Bambi-like eyes. "It's not a good idea to use your looks to try to get your way," I continued.

The Cute fell from her face as she pondered my words.

"If you really want to get your way in life," I continued, "You have to start learning to use your noggin, not your looks." My words were heavy as I carefully thought through each and every one of them.

Alexis sensed that I was telling her something that was very important to me. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"You have to be smart and tell people why they should give you what you want," I explained. "Tell them why it's a good idea and if there is a reason that benefits them, you should mention that."

Alexis thought for a moment then said, "Momma, can I have a piece of gum? If you say 'yes' I'll stop asking!"

I think maybe she understood what I was trying to say. Mostly.

I just hate that the real world will likely make a liar out of me, at least once in a while.