Momzilla: Notes from the Sidelines

Every Momzilla Can Learn from This Story

Momzilla just found this story when browsing the New York Times in search of information, culture, and pithy speaking points for the weekend's social gatherings.

Girls' Sports and Sportsmanship

As a Momzilla constantly battling the internal struggles to quell the Zilla and promote sportsmanship (as well as control portion sizes in order to avoid having to open a credit card at Lane Bryant), I thought it would behoove me to check out this article.

Well, Momzilla shed a few tears (which should surprise no one), while simultaneously appreciating the pivotal role of the umpire-jock whose ignorance of the rules of the game allowed this story to unfold. Mostly, Momzilla was encouraged that in the current era of competitive sports, such a showing of sportsmanship took place, and even better, was celebrated by a truly well-done story by ESPN.

On further reflection, this was softball, where all the girls (okay, at least many of the girls) love each other. What about figure skating?

Momzilla calls to mind the culture at our rink, where every ugly fall is quickly met by a kid or coach skating over to assess the okayness of the fallen. Sportsmanship is, thankfully, alive in individual sports.

I recently heard about an injury that resulted in paramedics carting the skater to the hospital in an ambulance. While the little thing remained immobile on the ice, awaiting her sirened chariot to arrive, one of the coaches asked a Momzilla in the stands for her fleece blanket to keep the injured skater warm. After (reportedly) reluctantly handing over the blanket, the Momzilla approached the coach after the skater was carried off to the ambulance. She professed no concerns about the injured child; she only wanted to know when she was going to get her blanket back.

Sadly, the Momzillae have a lot to learn from the kids. I hope that the kids teach, and teach well, before learning Momzilla's ugly ways.

The Outfits, They Are A'Changing

Yesterday, I realized that I have turned a significant corner in my career as a Momzilla.

I picked up my three year-old at summer camp to find her in one of her "extra" outfits. You know, the ones that populate the cubbies of little people who are in the interminable process of potty training. In my most patient Momzilla voice, I asked, "Honey, why are you wearing different clothes?" Her camp counselor looked at me like I was nuts.

Now, I'm not saying that I'm not nuts about an endless variety of things. But I really don't think this is one of them.

I looked back at my daughter. "Did you have an accident?"

She smiled. "Nope."

MOMZILLA [puzzled]: Um...are you sure?
DAUGHTER: Yes. [looks at Momzilla like she is a moron]
CAMP COUNSELOR: She just likes to change her outfit. [perplexed that Momzilla doesn't know this about her own child] She changes at least once every day.
MOMZILLA: But she didn't have an accident?
CAMP COUNSELOR: Nope.
MOMZILLA [still puzzled]: Are you really sure?

You see, until this moment, I had always understood the extra outfit to be a sign that my child has shat herself, or at least peed down her leg, during the day. Now, it seems, the extra outfit is just intended to throw the afternoon paparazzi off track in the event that they were looking for the pre-lunch duds.

I am, overall, relieved. Although now this means that I will have to make sure that the extra outfit is actually presentable. No more Gatorade-stained hand-me-down t-shirt from Summer Camp 2004. Well, actually, maybe that could pass as vintage. And recycled. That must count for something.

Okay, So It's Been Awhile

It has been a gloriously long time since Momzilla last posted.

As a means of update:

-- Momzilla is still Zilla-ing, and her license plate reflects her identify.
-- In the past nine months (just stop thinking that right now!), Momzilla has become an actual freelance writer and even took some writing classes online at the New School, thus dramatically cutting into available blogging time.
-- Fanzilla has migrated to a new home at http://mintmogul.blogspot.com

Momzilla intends to muse a little more these days, although she has reached some sort of peace with the stage mothers, she fears. So the musings may strike a bit more broadly. Not to worry, there is still insanity abound at the rink. It's just that Momzilla's eyes are observing with a wider net these days.

Momzilla is currently pondering the behaviors of Private School Momzillae...coming soon.

Momzilla Convention

First of all, Momzilla must apologize for her protracted absence from the blog. New projects...a modest return to professional and educational activities...Momzilla has been swamped.

Last week, our rink was fortunate enough to have an Actual Olympic Champion conduct a skating clinic for the Little Champions whose parents love them enough to take them out of school for a chance at Olympic Osmosis. (My own Little Champions are not so loved.)

The Momzillas were out en masse. It wasn't the fact that about 80 tweens showed up in full competition dresses and hair. It wasn't the fact that about 80 tweens were distinctly not learning to read or write in favor of getting a picture with an actual Champion. It wasn't even the fact that each group of kiddos got to spend approximately 6 minutes directly soaking up the greatness.

No, there were two other things that drove me to write.

First, at the outset of the event, there was literally a swarm of Momzillae with various forms of recording equipment crowding the hockey boxes at the rink's edge. It sort of looked like bees working on hive construction. Except that bees probably don't make snide comments to one another as they jockey for better photographic position.

The other thing that really got me was the one Momzilla who also happens to skate and participated in this clinic. It is one thing to participate, and I frankly think that it is great to take advantage of such opportunities. However, it is entirely another thing to dramatically scold your Little Champion in the middle of the event. Furthermore, it seems to me that to skate around taking photos of your Little Champion from all possible angles in the same frame as the Actual Champion might obfuscate Momzilla's intended participation in the clinic.

Frankly, I think that this particular Momzilla is lucky. I would have expected the rest of the Zilla swarm to attack her for unfair photo opportunities as soon as she exited the ice. As it is, she survived to Momzilla another day.

The Little Momzilla That Could

One of the skating mothers at our rink had questionable Momzilla status. She is a great mother, don't get me wrong. But Momzilla material? Her tenacious retention of perspective and positive parenting skills brought into question whether she really has what it takes to be a Momzilla. (When Mom Might Not Have Enough 'Zilla)

Well, I can confidently report that Mom pulled out her 'Zilla today. She, being a proper lady, managed to avoid actually breathing fire to singe the eyebrows of the people who were making noise during her Champion's performance this morning at a test session. But those noisy revellers most certainly got a talking to, Momzilla-style.

The best part is that in an admirable feat of control, the newly-realized Momzilla proceeded to carefully pack her Zilla away and return to being Mom. It was truly heartwarming (with only the mildest hint of firebreathing to get there).

Momzilla Does "Dancing"

In previous blog entries, Momzilla has noted that Mark Cuban, owner of the Dallas Mavericks, is one of the most prominent Momzillas in the sports world today.  (Go back and re-read "Mark Cuban Is the Ultimate Momzilla".)

So it is with shock, awe, mild horror, giddiness, and some head-shaking that Momzilla read her daily e-mail from People.com (clearly a source of all news that is important and may not have made it on The Daily Show or in The New York Times).

This promises to be a fantastic reality television season for at least a week, because...

Mark Cuban is going to be on "Dancing With the Stars!"

That's right, kids.  The NBA owner, who has motivated basketball players to go on record with major media outlets to explain that his ridiculously overdone behavior is often a detriment in a game situation, will finally step on the competitive parquet floor himself.

I've seen his fury when sitting on the Mavs' bench, close enough to perspire on his players, who should receive a per-game bonus for attempting to not look completely mortified by his presence.  Just imagine how he will react when directly critiqued by people who value ruffled sleeves for men as a competition uniform.

I frankly cannot wait to see what happens and write about it here.  But for now, I'm afraid that I must put all further postulation on hold.  I have to drop everything and set up a TiVO season pass.  My soul simply cannot afford to miss a moment of this.

Momzilla Makes a New Team

We are so fortunate to have a new figure skating team training at our rink.  This team owes its formation, in gianormous part, to a classic Momzilla.  But wait...this is not what you think.  It is most definitely better.

Half of this team is represented by one member of a former skating team, that also trained on our ice until, well, just about three weeks ago.  At that questionably auspicious time, the Momzilla of the team's other half veritably lashed out at her Little Champion's skating partner.  Momzilla, in a spectacular self-implosion, destroyed the team and her child's chance of achieving eventual frozen glory.  Perhaps more importantly, she eliminated her own Momzilla role, by driving her child (in a virtual Howitzer tank) out of the sport.

I must admit, I do feel a touch sorry for her.  There is little sadder in the world than a Momzilla who works herself right out of the Momzilla job.  Okay, maybe starving children in Africa and the end of the Harry Potter series were sadder, but you get my point.

The result?  A newly-formed team that already looks better than the old team ever did, even after months of hard work.

And the best part?  This team has much better music.  Everybody wins.

When Mom Might Not Have Enough 'Zilla

One of the high-level skaters at our rink is preparing for an upcoming freestyle skating test.  If she passes, she earns the right to compete as a Junior in this qualifying season.  If not, she stays at the highly respectable Novice level, which still culminates in competition at U.S. Senior Nationals.

This particular skater is unusually self-aware for a teenager.  In general, this Momzilla believes self-awareness to be a good thing, as it makes for an interesting and thoughtful individual.  However, self-awareness can also breed a somewhat neurotic athlete.

[Note: The preceding statement should not be taken to imply that all figure skaters do not possess some basic level of neurosis.  Because they do.]

This particular skater's Momzilla hails from the quietly supportive branch of the species.  Momzilla is present at tests and competitions, and is keenly interested in the goings-on of her child's training regimen.  However, she fails on the pushy front.  And herein lies the issue.

This morning, the charming young skater reported that her Momzilla offered her an "out" to her upcoming test, a stressful event to be certain.  Apparently, Momzilla laid out the option to avoid competing in this qualifying season, if the skater chooses.  According to the lessons learned from Joe Mantegna's turn as a chess Dadthra in Searching for Bobby Fisher, this is the proper parenting thing to do.  As parents, even Momzillas must strive and strain to maintain balance for our children so that life retains an equilibrium with competitive sports holding a place in check with other aspects of growth and development.

But the real question here is: WWMD?

A true Momzilla, of course, would offer no such option.  A passed test is the gateway to elite competition and new challenges.  A failed test leads to the inevitable purchase of a new competition outfit to outdo the other skaters at the lower level, thus boosting Momzilla's self-fulfilling role in the young skater's efforts at a chance for competitive glory.

So what is the balance?  Does this intellectual young skater need Mom or Momzilla?  We know that too much of a Zilla thing is...well...not good.  But what about not enough of the Zilla?  At what point does a young skater's self awareness of the need for the Zilla result in the ability to raise the Zilla within?  Will this young woman, in response to her mother's...mothering, be driven to early auto-Zilla-dom?  And will the Zilla persist to her own children?

These are questions for the ages, to be certain.  Perhaps I'll check back with answers in about 20 years.

Momzilla's New Plates

Courtesy of Dadthra, and with a desire to support the noble cause of organ transplantation, Momzilla can now be identified on the road as "MMZLA".

With some fascination, Momzilla noticed that the rink parking lot also sometimes features "MUMZLLA".

Oy.

Momzilla is not certain whether these are the proud wheels of a figure skating Momzilla, or a hockey Momzilla.  Perhaps mild stalking will ensue.

Momzilla Is So Proud

Momzilla's eldest recently interrupted Momzilla's laser-focused on-ice practice session to hold the following conversation:

Well-Grounded Daughter: [motioning to another adult skater] Doesn't she read the rules?
Proud Momzilla: What are you talking about?
WGD: You know, the rule that says that you have to have your stomach covered on the ice.
PM: [suddenly transfixed by the muffin-top emerging from the gaping space between the skater's stretch pants and exercise top, while simultaneously suppressing a snort of laughter and beaming with pride] I don't know, honey.  Why don't you go ask your coach?

Really, the sarcastic disdain sealed it.  That's definitely Momzilla's daughter.