Tag Archive for Maggie Preller

Maggie’s Post-It Note Binder

My daughter is a slob. Let’s get that out of the way up front. She makes messes and moves on — blithely.

Yesterday she sat at the kitchen counter with a stack of index cards, Post-It Notes, tape, a laptop, a variety of colored markers, a clunky three-ring binder, and scissors.

“What are you up to, Mags?” I asked.

She grunted, shrugged, hummed and mumbled in a barely-communicative manner. Something about decorating the cover of her notebook. Whatev.

I found the result of her efforts amidst the detritus this morning: scissors and markers and scattered paper scraps on the floor from all that cutting, cutting, cutting. Here’s the new cover of my fifth-grade daughter’s black binder:

Maggie has always left notes to herself around the house, usually in her bedroom, usually of the inspirational variety. I guess it beats photos of Justin Bieber.

I think she’s going to live an interesting life. To me, there’s a lot of stuff on here that I appreciate. But the most telling is the simplest, that smiley face in the upper right. That’s Maggie’s attitude, always has been. She’s genuinely baffled by people who aren’t happy. And in her mind, there’s nothing she can’t accomplish. Ah, youth and confidence. I hope she stays that way forever.

Crazy about her. To the point where we can live with the mess — without too much yelling.

The 2011 USA Women’s World Cup Team: Helping to Restore a Little Faith in Sports

“You have to keep the fun alive — if you are not enjoying it,

what’s the point?” — Joy Fawcett.

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Like a lot of folks these days, I’m loving the story of the American Women’s World Cup soccer team. My family took time out from a gorgeous, lakeside day to watch the USA Women defeat Brazil in one of the great comebacks in the history of American sports. Yesterday I ditched work to catch glimpses of the USA victory over France in the Semifinals. This Sunday, the USA takes on Japan in the Finals, and I’ll be glued to the screen, rooting for this team.

Back in 1999, I packaged a book for Scholastic titled, Meet the Women of American Soccer: An Inside Look at America’s Team. By “packaged,” I mean that I functioned as a mini-publisher. I was given a budget, worked as an editor, hired a writer (Wayne Coffey), a designer (Michael Malone), and through a publishing arrangement enjoyed full use of the photos taken by Michael Stahlschmidt.

That was a team for the ages, an inspiring collection of charming, talented, intelligent young women: Mia Hamm, Carla Overbeck, Julie Foudy, Kristine Lilly, Tiffeny Milbrett, Shannon MacMillan, Michelle Akers, Joy Fawcett, Brandi Chastain, Briana Scurry, and more. I loved the way the book turned out. There were limitations, of course. The book was only 48 pages, and designed as a photo essay with ever-so-brief profiles of key players. I came to respect these women so much, and in the process, from the safety of my desk, maybe developed a slight crush on #13, Kristine Lilly.

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Didn’t you hear? Athletic is the new skinny.

In a sports-minded family — both my wife and I coach, and our kids participate in many sports — we sometimes despair over the state of youth sports. At times we’ve felt discouraged and disheartened, and have questioned why we bother. Are we wrong to spend so much time on sports with our children? Each year we see more insanity, more mean-spirtedness, and it gives us pause. Have we done our kids a disservice by putting too much emphasis (time, energy, passion, money) into their sports activities? To be clear, we aren’t delusional about their talents. We don’t look at our kids as the next Derek Jeter, the next Mia Hamm. But we all enjoy sports, love to play, love to be on teams, love the games. We believe in being busy, being healthy and strong, inside and out.

And then there’s a team like the 2011 USA Women’s World Cup team, that celebrates the beauty and possibility of sport, and we fall in love all over again. Go USA, good luck on Sunday. We’ll be rooting for you, Christie Rampone, Shannon Boxx, Carli Lloyd, Ali Krieger, Lauren Cheney, Heather O’Reily,  Megan Rapinoe, Abby Wambach, Hope Solo and all the rest of you in red, white, and blue.

You’ve helped restore in us a little faith in sport. The team below has helped, too, especially the tall girl, center in the back row, my Maggie.

Overheard: “-ish.”

It’s how Maggie, my 10-year-old daughter, answers certain types of questions these days.

For example, “Maggie, are you feeling better now that you’ve rested?”

“-ish,” she answers. As in, better-ish. Kind of, sort of, a little, not really.

Or perhaps it’s spelled “Ish.” Hard to tell, though I prefer the hyphenated, lower case version. The questions that elicit this response tend to be qualitative in nature. But the range seems to be widening, with “-ish” covering more ground. Not dissimilar to, say, meh.

“How do you like that coffee ice cream?”

“-ish,” she’ll reply from the back seat, licking away without any great enthusiasm, waffling on the waffle cone.

No character in my books has used “-ish” in dialogue. But I suspect that’s going to change.

Maggie’s iPod Cake & Photos to Prove It!

Ten years ago today our youngest child, Maggie, was born in our bedroom at home. It was a cold, wet, blustery night and Lisa labored long and hard with two midwives at her side.

Today it’s a living wonder, how this . . .

led to this . . .

led to this . . .

led to this . . .

and now this . . .

Around our house, Maggie somehow acquired that idea that birthdays are a big deal.

A really big deal.

The other day I shared Maggie’s request for breakfast. And so Mom made it happen, with a small bit of grudging help from me . . .

Not too far off from the artist’s original rendering . . .

Maggie ate it up, happily, beaming, humming to herself.

Then there was the problem of the cake. Last week Maggie announced that she wanted Lisa to make a homemade birthday cake, and added, “I want an iPod cake for my birthday!”

An iPod cake? Lisa and I exchanged worried glances. A . . . what!? Where did that come from?

Undaunted, Maggie’s mom dug around, discovered this recipe and stayed up past 1:00 AM last night to bake and decorate this cake.

Mothers, you know, are just crazy about their kids. She’s a lucky girl. But I have to believe she’s not nearly as lucky as her parents.

Thoughts on Blogging . . . and Maggie’s Birthday Breakfast

I often tell myself, “I’m not going to blog for those creeps anymore!” But each day I find something that I want to say, or share, and return to this outlet. Obviously, I’m blogging for me as much as for you, and very possibly moreso.

Sure, it’s a drag that no one ever seems to comment. It can too often feel like talking in an empty room. But, hey, that’s the writing life. And besides, you’re here! (And I don’t really think you’re a creep.)

People have asked if it takes away from my “real” writing. I don’t believe it does. I may spend too much time on the blog some days, but at least I’m writing and thinking and entertaining myself. I love the archival aspect of the blog, too. It’s all here, neatly saved and organized. A document, a record. Another plus, this blog has been a vehicle for new, unexpected friendships. Crazy as this sounds, I’ve made a few real friendships out of this thing.

So if, Dear Reader, you’ve ever considered starting up your own blog, I recommend it.

The point is, today I had to share this:

Maggie turns ten on Friday, so she can have whatever she’d like for breakfast. When Lisa asked that question last night, Maggie smiled and said, “Let me draw you a picture!”

She hunched over for a few minutes, working with determination, and then explained the picture to Lisa, the banana cut in half for the mouth with chocolate chips on top, the pancake and whipped cream, a cheery for the nose, slices of strawberry on the edges, etc.

After two boys, I’m always grateful that I was blessed with a daughter, now soon to be ten years old.

My Maggie. Amazing.