Dreams Do Come True; It Can Happen To You, If Your Mother Refuses To Let Go Of Childhood Angst. Or You’re Young At Heart, Either Way. | Whiskey in My Sippy Cup : Surviving Parenting. Kinda.

I was born with the ability to play the piano. This is no surprise; my parents are, and I’m not kidding, two of the most gifted musicians you’ll ever meet. My father taught Jim Croce’s brother to play guitar, not kidding. All of us are musically inclined, whether or not we choose to use those skills. And hell, have you ever seen my fingers? They’re like pipe cleaners sticking out of dough, I tell you what. They’re made for three things….guitar, piano and masturbation. Thankfully or unfortunately, I can’t decide which, I was so indoctrinated with cultish visions of damnation and hellfire that one of those three was forever ruined for me.

As for the other two, I taught myself how to play guitar with a book full of Janis Ian sheet music and my 4th grade music teacher realized one day that I could just play piano. He taught me basic notes and chords and sent me home, and my mother handed me the sheet music to The Incredible Hulk and a dry erase marker for the piano keys and told me to have at it. A year later, I could really play the piano. It’s the ugliest thing in the world, watching me hammer away on the keys, but it sounds right and hell, I’m sure that Beethoven looked like an asshole when he played, too, but no one’s smacking him down for form today, now are they?

I am no Beethoven. I am no Elmo on a piano, but if I wanted to be, I probably could rock that shit.

For a while, I wanted to be. We had two player pianos in our house, side by side in our tiny living room, donated to us by our church in what I can only guess was a misguided attempt at keeping our little fingers busy with anything that didn’t involve our naughty places. I used to BEG my mother for lessons, but she refused on the grounds that we couldn’t afford it, which was probably true seeings how we only ate a few times a week, and no amount of the Rainbow Connection and church hymns filling the air would also fill our tummies, but it didn’t make me want them any less. I was very understanding of the whole situation, though. I’d sit while my bat-shit crazy grandmother who thought she could channel George Washington and make the dog levitate tried to teach me how to play the score from Oklahoma with her squeaky little voice that wasn’t completely unlike that shrimp from Poltergeist’s demon voice. I’d hammer out Suicide is Painless, which maybe wasn’t exactly the smartest sheet music to hand a suicidal pre-teen in hindsight, but bygones, until I got it right, and I still fall asleep with Ted Cassidy’s voice in my head, telling me about science gone awry and Dr David Banner’s struggles with elastic waist bands, muscle shirts and finding a nice shade of lipstick to compliment his earthy skin tone. Or something like that.

And then one day, after spending the better part of a year teaching my little brother to play the Pink Panther theme, my mother announced that she was getting him piano lessons because he was clearly gifted and deserved the extra help.

Cue head explosion.

I swore, SWORE, that no matter what my kids wanted to be in life, I’d make it happen. If they dreamed of being a world-class marathon runner, I’d put down the cigarettes and strap on the Nike’s and train with them. If they wanted to be carpenters, I’d hand them a hammer. And a bandaid. If they wanted to be starving musicians, I’d buy them their first Les Paul.

Of COURSE I ended up with the kid who’s only goal in life is to beat every level of Guitar Hero and then become, not just a professional, but a sponsored skateboarder. I have a really hard time asking my husband for $8 when I need milk and bread, but I’m supposed to figure out how to get Element to pay my kid to skate? Christ on a goddamn cracker, yo.

The boy is dead serious. He will skate for someone, and well, and he’s not going to stop until this happens for him. Or he breaks his legs. Or he starves to death under a half pipe. Or he falls over backwards at the skatepark and hits his head so hard he cracked his Bell helmet all the way up the back. Oh, wait, that already happened, and it really didn’t stop him. It did stop any number of parts on me, however, but I think I’ve started breathing again and I seem to have a pulse, so I think I’ll recover. He thinks it’s pretty cool. Bastard. Bastard who now wears his helmet everywhere he goes, though, so I win.

Of course, I have these dreams of my boys winning Pulitzers and accepting Nobel prizes and graduating from Ivy League colleges but maybe that’s not in their cards. Do I want my kid to put everything he has behind skateboarding? Honestly, a little. Skateboarding is awesome. But there’s that grown-up in me that wants to tell him to have a “fall back” career, some “real” skill, something “substantial” to base his life’s dreams on. Because I didn’t even go to college and it’s taken me 34 years to even find a job that doesn’t require an apron. And if I want anything in this world, it’s for my children to know more than I did, to live better than I ever could have.

But my baby wants to skateboard, and I can’t deny that. I mean, look at that shit. It’s poetry.

God shield I should disturb devotion. So tomorrow, I’m packing these boys up and, under the guise of testing out the new Tony Hawk video game Ride, I’m lugging them down to San Diego to spend a weekend with His Holiness himself, Mr Tony Fucking Hawk. Because maybe I’d also like him to have a law degree, but I’d really much rather watch him have his dreams come true. And of all the things that matter to me, the fact that my kid knows I support him, in whatever, is the most important thing to me in this whole world.

Besides getting to meet Tony Hawk, of course. I’m kind of flipping out about that one.

Darcie

Thursday, 8 October, 2009 at 12:28

Growing up as the oldest of 5 siblings, in a home where mom didn’t work, and dad sometimes couldn’t because of the economy in Maine. I so know about not being able to do, well, anything, because we…don’t…have…the money…(but then years later watching my younger siblings do band, sports, well, everything) and have had my share of “head explosions” (loved that sentence!)

I’ve so tried to encourage and support my kids in their every interest as well, and I wouldn’t miss a second of it!

Wow!! Getting to meet Tony Hawk is sooooo cool! 2 of 3 is a very lucky young man!

You are an awesome mom!

Avitable

Thursday, 8 October, 2009 at 12:44

My mother always wanted me to be a surgeon. She’s somehow still upset that I’m only a lawyer, successful business owner, and internet-famous pervert.

Joy

Thursday, 8 October, 2009 at 13:22

You, Mr. Lady, are my parenting hero…

MidLifeMama

Thursday, 8 October, 2009 at 13:29

Oh Avitable, all mom’s have their dreams and aspirations for their children. And even if he doesn’t end up making skate boarding a living, that kid is going to remember for the rest of his life that his mom made meeting Tony Hawk happen. I would kill myself just thinking about standing on a skate board, but I know who he is. And that is (cue Seth Green voice) AAAAAAWWWWESOOOOME.

tracey

Thursday, 8 October, 2009 at 13:30

Will you be MY mommy? I could really use someone who wants all of my dreams to come true.

Have an awesome time! Skateboarding is a slightly unknown territory in my home, though we love the hair and clothes. ;)

Jessi

Thursday, 8 October, 2009 at 13:43

Best mom ever. You are. I haven’t even been able to bring myself to sign my daughter up for cheerleading because I don’t want to be fucking cheerleading mom.

Stephanie

Thursday, 8 October, 2009 at 14:11

My younger brother wanted to be a skateboarder. He didn’t go to college, just kept skating. Now he is 39 years old, still skating, and travels the world building skateparks for a living. Go for it 2of3 !!

Lee

Thursday, 8 October, 2009 at 15:01

Well right the hell on. My dude, thank God, has said exactly what you say here. Support the kids in their dreams. His mom supported him banging on a drum set and rocking out with his high school rock band and defended the “noise” to neighbors who would complain. Even his successful lawyer of a father tried his best to support him in his 20’s while he played in bands trying to be a rock star.

At 30 though he had an epiphany – that he actually wanted to be able to support a family. And me. So he let go of the dream and trained for a job and now at 42, he is supporting me and three kids. I know it’s painful for him at times to think of what could have been but he is so damn proud to be able to bring home the bacon for his crew. And I am proud of him too.

What’s the point of this ramble? The point I guess is yes to the dreams. Young dreams are where it’s at. If you can’t chase them when you’re young, when can you?

My man has no regrets thank God. Because for most men, being able to be the provider is sometimes more important than the dream. Or it’s just another part of the dream.

So your skateboarding hero will find his way to get it all I hope. Who knows how it will all unfold but with you as his mama, I’m sure it’s all gonna turn out just fine.

Have fun in San Diego dude.

One Mom's Opinion

Thursday, 8 October, 2009 at 15:07

This is cool. Enjoy San Diego, this is something. Getting to meet Tony Hawk is a big deal. Take tons of pics.

pixielation

Thursday, 8 October, 2009 at 15:27

I can imagine the look on his face when he realises what you’ve actually gone and done for him will be priceless and worth remembering for the rest of your life!

My mother never stifled my dreams, but that’s because her mother stifled hers. At 15 she was a sprinter with times on a par with some of the quickest of that time. And her mother forbade her to run, as it was unladylike. Of all the reason’s to squash someone’s dream, that’s one of the worst.

a.larson

Thursday, 8 October, 2009 at 15:44

You know, when they live their dreams, we actually get to live them with them, which in turn is awesome! You go mom!

BusyDad

Thursday, 8 October, 2009 at 16:10

It was meant to be, injured ankles be damned. I’m really really really really good with ankle tape. I will bring it.

Julie

Thursday, 8 October, 2009 at 16:43

Good for you! That is an awesome attitude to have for your kids. I love it. This is why I don’t want a million kids. I want my 2 boys to be able to pursue their dreams too!

Coach J

Thursday, 8 October, 2009 at 16:50

You are awesome. As for me, I’m FORCING my kids to take piano lessons. Bwa ha ha!

Cori

Thursday, 8 October, 2009 at 17:13

If my husband could, he’d drive his happy ass out to SD and woo you so he could also meet The Man, Mr. Tony MotherFucking Hawk.
And that’s how he’d say it too.

Your kids sure are lucky.

Kristin

Thursday, 8 October, 2009 at 19:17

When my daughter proclaimed she wanted to DRAW as her career in life, I groaned in my head and had the same grownup thought as you – fall back career? This past year (and she’ll be 16 in January), she decided she wants to be a pastry chef. At first I inwardly scoffed because this is the girl who doesn’t like to try new things and she wants to go to culinary school? But she seems serious about it (and isn’t everything serious at 15?), but I’m really pushing it now. Do something that makes you happy. So yeah, let the kid skateboard. Isn’t it an Olympic sport now? You still have some grand dreams to dream…gold medals! Or heck, maybe your kid will have an entire toy line designed after him. Or at least a cool teeshirt.

hollysmom

Thursday, 8 October, 2009 at 19:22

Two words: Bam Margera.

Dawn

Thursday, 8 October, 2009 at 20:26

Growing up I was told I could do anything I wanted/I wasn’t smart enough to do… Mixed signals…eh?

My daughter wants to be a fasion designer…I can barely sew a button on a shirt…ugh. I got all my grams old fabric, patterns and tons of thread…that with the sewing machine my mil bought me on my first anniversary…We’re all set…Except I don’t know how to use any of it…

I believe, my daughter will be a star one day…not because I could sew…but because I did what ever I could to help!

You rock mom…

Melanie @ Mel, A Dramatic Mommy

Thursday, 8 October, 2009 at 23:53

San Diego? As in Southern California? As in, where I live? My heart just stopped. Oh, and that’s cool about Tony Hawk.

Thursday, 8 October, 2009 at 23:57

PS- There’s a skate park not too far from my house. My son likes to go and watch the big kids sometimes. Just throwin’ that out there. :D

Elisa

Friday, 9 October, 2009 at 1:18

You are clearly an awesome mom.

I seem to be one of the few parents who do not dream of her kids being lawyers, doctors or something else that requires a shitload of school years and has crazy hours but may, makes lots of dough.

I would just be happy if they found something they are passionate about and it didn’t turn out to be working as a stripper. Or a call girl. Because those are just about my worst nightmares when it comes to how they will grow up.

rita

Friday, 9 October, 2009 at 8:48

You are the best. mom. EVER. The memories they’re making will mean so much to them later in life.

Print Brochures

Friday, 9 October, 2009 at 17:22

You’re so lucky that you were born to a musically inclined family. I love music too and I admire people who can really make good music. Thank you for sharing this beautiful post.:)

Jaina

Friday, 9 October, 2009 at 17:38

WAIT!!! You are going to San Diego this weekend??? Seriously!? OMG. OMG. OMG! Dude. Email me!!!! Where are you staying?!?!?!?!

Friday, 9 October, 2009 at 17:39

K…may have misread. But dang, email me!!!!

pgoodness

Friday, 9 October, 2009 at 19:24

WOW, what an awesome experience this weekend!! Can’t wait to hear what your son thinks (and maybe Tony can give him so pointers on making his dreams come true).

I always wanted to play the piano – my mom was concert pianist level and gave it up to marry my dad (yeah, THAT was worth it). I had lessons as a kid, but hated it then. Sure wish they would have made me stick with it.

Vixen

Friday, 9 October, 2009 at 20:59

Hawt damn you are a great mom. And you get to meet Tony Hawk? Hell, I LIVE in San Diego and I don’t get to meet him. Lucky lady.

Jennifer A

Saturday, 10 October, 2009 at 10:20

As someone who grew up in a very hellish house that DCFS would remove me from now, not back then, I always swore that I would try and give my kids the opportunities that I never was allowed or my mom claimed I never asked for(mommy’s booze costs a lot, ya know?)
My kids are still in the lets try things once and move on phase, except for scouts and Adventure guides. The only things I limit for them is: if it costs more than my second mortage, power tools, handguns (rifles are ok with supervision), driving my car and Bratz dolls. Bri wants swim lessons and join choir. Jimmy wants swim and rollerblade lessons. Thank god for the Y.

You kick ass as a mom and enjoy meeting Tony Hawk.

Amy

Saturday, 10 October, 2009 at 12:39

Beautiful post.

I was lucky enough to have a parent who supported me in whatever my dreams were/are, and I can say with certainty that you’re onto something there. I try my best to be that way for my kids, too, but it’s such a tough line to walk, isn’t it, between your agenda and theirs.

And ‘fall back’ plans are evil, yes, but the protective side of us know they’re often a necessary evil in this world. How I wish that wasn’t so.

Love the pic of your boy rocking the skate park! That IS poetry in motion.

hubs

Saturday, 10 October, 2009 at 16:33

My mom was so supportive of my skateboarding that we missed a flight from San Diego back to Denver so I could get my first real deck. It was a Rodney Mullen (he invented the kickflip [back then it was called an ollie impossible]). My dad was pissed but the rest of the family was all smiles.

Careful though, I one of the things I loved about skating (and still do love about skating) is that it has absolutely nothing to do with my mom.

Saturday, 10 October, 2009 at 16:35

Also, what kind of weird skate thing is your boy riding in that bowl?