Wednesday, February 24, 2016

Good Things


Way back when I was a teacher . . . I attended a workshop at which we were told to greet students by asking them to name a "Good Thing."  While I won't go into the details of the horrors of teacher trainings, I will state that generally these well-intended ideas are actually insane in the real practice of teaching.  Like while trying to run to the restroom, fix broken lockers, take attendance, and grab a bite to eat in a 4 minute passing period, I should also stand at my door and have this meaningful exchange with all 42 students in my class.  Supposedly asking someone to name something good puts a positive spin on everything and sets a good tone for the class, blah, blah, blah . . .

For some inexplicable reason, I decided to employ this particular strategy with my World of Warcraft guild Officer Meeting.  This weekly meeting began at 11pm and lasted approximately 2 hours where we would discuss the week's raids, our raiders, plans, goals, problems, and upcoming content.  It included a written agenda, homework, and reports from each of 5-7 officers.  To my officers' credit, they tolerated some pretty crazy stuff from me (the Guild Leader) including having them write peer reviews of each other, and making them sit out if they were not completed on time. Looking back they were some of the most phenomenal human beings I have ever had the privilege of knowing.  Anyway, I started each meeting by making them each share a Good Thing.  A few of them protested or said it was stupid or that they couldn't think of anything - one guy even left the guild over it, seriously. But one guy, Penimus, told us each week about the sandwich he was eating.  Sometimes he even told us with his mouth full about what a great sandwich it was.  I am sure that he was just doing it to get me to shut up and move on, but I usually asked about the sandwich and its vegetables, dressing, or some other detail.  It became a weekly ritual to celebrate the sandwich. At the time I suspected that he thought I was insane, but looking back, he was brilliant. Pen found a way to celebrate a small thing in life and really, honestly answer my question each time.

Fast forward to tonight:  It was a rough evening.  All 3 of my kids wanted everything, at the same time.  I had had a taxing day with my plans being changed a million times, the painter no showed, my daughter got in trouble at school, and I'm stressed getting ready for this weekend.  Trying to get dinner on the table was a nightmare: husband would not be home till 9, daughter got baby's food all over him and everything else in sight, other daughter kept licking everything, food does not cook when you turn the incorrect eye on.  By the time we sat down to dinner an hour late, the fact that I put shiitake mushrooms in the pasta was irrelevant.  As is our nightly ritual, I asked my girls to name a Good Thing for the day.  My 3 year old responded with, "We are finally eating."

I started to tell her that her answer was unacceptable because it was shallow and a bit pointed (at me!), but I thought back to Pen and his sandwiches . . . and I agreed with her that it was a Good Thing.  Just like those sandwiches, tonight's dinner was Good.  We have food to eat.  We ate it together.  The girls even helped prepare it.

It took me a lot of years to realize that the point of Good Things wasn't the big stuff.  It wasn't about being valedictorian, winning the lottery, being homecoming queen, or making 100 on a test.  Good Things is about finding joy in the mundane.

So I ask you, name a Good Thing that happened today ________________________  .

What do you represent?

Recently, after making a bad decision about getting on the highway at close to rush hour, I had the pleasure of sitting in traffic with 4 toddlers in my car for over an hour, while listening to their favorite toddler music CD.  While stuck on a 2-lane bridge of stopped cars, each waiting patiently for their turn to move approximately 18 inches at a time, there was that guy.  You know the one, the one who cuts back and forth between lanes honking at everyone as if he is somehow going to go somewhere faster than the rest of us.  The one playing his radio loudly and glaring at all the other drivers who are complacently knitting while they wait. Everyone should keep knitting in their car . . . but I digress. Also, please note that my use of the word 'guy' does not necessarily mean that this driver is male - I just had to call him/her something.  So after watching this person's antics for about 15 minutes, while we were still both on the same bridge, his license plate caught my attention.  The custom plate featured a religious symbol, and the text on the plate referenced a part of the religion's cannon, more specifically an evangelical quote threatening others with the 'wrath of God' should they choose not to believe.  Wow! Based on this person's driving, I would be more fearful of the wrath of the religion's followers than their God.

As I sat there letting my mind wander idly while the car's engine idled, I had to ask the question, "If you are going to emblazon your vehicle with a religious symbol, should people expect your behavior to be representative of that religion's ideals?"  Of course if we discount the corner-case scenarios like 'the car was stolen and the driver was actually the thief' and assume that the owner/driver did in fact pay extra money for the privilege of representing his views and values, one might also assume that  he wanted others to notice this.  Therefore, one could also assume that either he is in fact a member of this religion and chose to evangelize vehicularly, or that he spent a lot of money and effort to demean a religion.  (You know, like raiders who vote in the opposite party's primary election.)

If you look around, you see lots of examples of people wearing or advertising their values:
  • Boston Strong bracelets
  • A T-shirt that says "Nerd? I prefer the term intellectual badass"
  • A yard sign: Wow Windows and Glass
  • Kids in superhero capes
  • Dads in superhero capes
  • "I love Molly" on a tattoo
  • "Make America Great" button supporting Donald Trump
  • "My kids is an honor student" bumper stickers
  • 31 Bits jewelry made in Africa and sold to raise money
Each person is subtly (or not so subtly) saying "This is what I believe!"  They are also saying, "I want you to see what I believe."  They want to advertise their politics, religion, child-raising, socially responsible consumerism, or social status.  Some may want to start up conversations wth like minded individuals.  Others may prefer stirring up debate and controversy.  Some may hope to attract a mate or at least deter the ones they don't want to mate with . . .

The next step in this journey is of course to ask myself, "What do I represent?"

Well, my first thought is that I smell like an ad for Enfamil Prosobee baby formula.  And maybe Secret Unscented deodorant.  Im driving (ok, sitting in the driver's seat at least, even if it's not moving) of a large red SUV.  Yes red, a midlife crisis color of car.  It contains 5 car seats - thus I represent a preschool, right?  I am wearing Clark's shoes that may dad bought me (so do I represent comfortable, high quality, but not the highest fashion shoes? or do I represent the coolest dad ever who is an awesome shopper?)  Plus sized jeans (Don't go there!)  A Magic the Gathering t-shirt from a 5 day tournament in Las Vegas. A watch and wedding ring (like all good wives should).  So in summary I represent . . . a conglomeration of all the parts of me: A parent, a gamer, a person who values family, a person for whom fashion is not the top priority, a person who is comfortable with herself.

So if you see me, I hope that what you see is me.

And if I see you, well . . . maybe you should think about what I will see and what you represent . . .

Saturday, February 13, 2016

Failed!

I failed today.

I fail every day in the little things like 'I forgot to empty the cat box' or 'I wore my underwear inside out all day.' But failure in the BIG things is pretty rare for me.  It only happens when I step outside my box and reach for something new.  I love a challenge.  I love the feeling of learning, working, struggling, and coming out on top.

I've had a lot of success.
My accomplishments include:

  • Yearbook Editor
  • Spanish Club President
  • Golf Team Captain
  • High School Valedictorian
  • Bachelor's Degree
  • Master's Degree
  • Won UIL, MathCounts, and Future City competitions and awards
  • Married to the man of my dreams
  • World of Warcraft Guild Leader of a Top 200 US ranked guild
  • Bought the perfect house
  • 3 beautiful kids and a TON of parenting milestones
  • Gotten every job I have ever still wanted after the interview
  • And too many more to list . . ..
The last failure of this magnitude that I can remember was in the 7th grade (over 20 years ago).  I tried out for cheerleader.  I was not cute, terribly athletic, or perky in any way, but I saw those cool girls and wanted to be one of them.  I went to a few classes and thought I knew what I was doing, but I was in way over my head.  I came home, cried, and thought the world was ending.  (I was a preteen girl - the world WAS ending!)  My parents helped me to see that the world was not in fact ending, but that there would be other opportunities.  After some mourning, I got busy - I attended cheer classes, tumbling clinics, practices, and anything else I could for an entire year.  And the next year, I tried out again and made the squad.  While I still get that sick to my stomach feeling when I think back to that day of finding out that I didn't make it the first time, I'm now glad for the experience because it taught me how to fail - and fail hard - and still bounce back.  And as an adult looking back, I can see that I am a better person for it.  

I'm so glad that I have the guts to try - to go for it - to stretch myself into new territory.  I'm used to great success and little else.  In fact, so used to it that I've forgotten what it feels like to fail.  

To be fair, I knew I was reaching on this one before I even started.  I have been playing Magic for less than a year.  Many players were playing when I was in 7th grade - literally.  Most players testing for judge certification have played a lot more Magic than me, for a lot more years.  It's a complicated game.  It has a lot of complex rules to memorize and even more intricate interactions among those rules.  I have studied - a lot.  I have done everything I knew to do including asking others to help, reading the rules online, taking practice tests, playing JudgeTower, following forums, interacting with other judges, and trying to immerse myself in the mindset of a judge.  While I learned many, many things, it wasn't enough.

I failed.

And that's ok.  I knew going in that rules were not my strong suit.  I was still struggling with some concepts that I needed to know.  I also had some misconceptions in my head form mistakes I made while studying.  In the end, I failed by 2%, which means I was close, but I didn't get there.  

My judge mentor said, "I think you are ready for the task in attitude. And that is what makes great judges, not all the v rules stuff. :-)"[sic]  While his undeserved compliment certainly assuaged my bruised ego, it also led to some serious introspection.  I 'studied' the wrong things.  I worried about how judges look, how they act, and how they interact because I was worried about the interview.  I was worried that this man would see me, a female new player, as not worthy of being a judge.  I tried to figure out what questions he would ask me and how to answer them to convince him of my worth.  Looking back, my efforts paid off, and I must have seemed fairly competent because he only asked me 1 question, "Do you have any questions for me?"  Needless to say, I had no idea how to answer that one.  There were millions of them running through my head - tricky rules interactions, queries about working at larger events, fears of handling tough situations, details of infractions, and even wondering about the possibility of further advancement - but I didn't dare ask any of them right then.  He was busy simultaneously working with 4 judges/candidates and I was too nervous to think clearly, so I just took the test.

But I didn't know the rules well enough to pass.  I missed 3 questions about the exact same mechanic, giving the same incorrect answer 3 times.  I missed 2 questions by not reading carefully enough.  I missed 2 more questions by just getting them wrong.  And the last question I missed my mentor said he would have chosen the same answer as me.  So overall, I missed enough things in enough different ways to conclusively say that it was me - not the test, bad questions, weird wording, or any other reason.

I would actually guess that the rules test is a 'non-issue' with many judge candidates because the longer you play the game, the more rules you learn, which leaves me, the new player, at a decided disadvantage of my own making.

So while I could use this time for anger, frustration, sadness, or laying blame, I think I'll skip all of those and do what I did 20+ years ago when I failed.  I'll pick myself up and go study the rules a little harder, because when the opportunity to test comes up again, I will be prepared.

Thursday, February 11, 2016

Food Allergy Mom Tips

My daughter has a food allergy.  It took almost 2 long, miserable years to find this out.  We'll save that story for another day.  For today, here are a few tips for food allergy moms.

1. You are you child's advocate.  Be proactive.
This is the most important thing.  Your child does not drive and likely does not plan their own social calendar, so when you are making dinner reservations or booking a transatlantic flight, be sure to consider your child's needs.  Think in advance about where you are going and what food you might encounter there.  Call ahead and ask about the allergy menu or alternative meals.   Be willing to change plans for your child.

2. Assume nothing!
You would be surprised where allergens pop up.  Read the labels.  "I don't think this contains allergen" from a confused looking waiter or well meaning friend is not reliable information.  Do not feel bad asking for the package and/or not letting your child eat it.  Better safe than sorry.
Example: Carmel apples contain milk protein.  There is whey in the caramel.

3. Educate yourself.
Learn to explain the difference between a food allergy and a food intolerance.  Don't feel bad about educating people who want to criticize you, your child, or your parenting.  Lactose intolerance is a body's inability to process a sugar due to lack of an enzyme.  It is not the same thing as a non-IgE milk protein allergy.

4. Carry snacks.  
Since food opportunities will pop up unexpectedly, make sure you have something your child can eat with you.  Keep something non-perishable (dried fruit is great) in your purse/car that you child loves to offer when that unplanned treat stop does not include food that your child can eat.  If your sister suddenly decided to pull in to a frozen yogurt shop on the way home from the zoo, but they don't have vegan yogurt, break out the dried strawberries!

5.  Skip "Kid's Meals."
Many restaurants offer great, healthy options that are allergen free, but only for adults.  Don't be afraid to order them for your child.  Many places will let you substitute them into a kids meal for no charge. If not, just pay for it - your kid is worth it.

6.  Find cupcakes.
Since most children regularly attend birthday parties, you will need an alternative to the usual cupcakes/cakes/cookies served.  Locate a local bakery that allows you to purchase 1 allergen free cupcake as needed.  Before each party, contact the party mom and ask about the flavor/color of the cupcake or treat being served.  Explain your child's food allergy and that you will provide their treat.  This step saves you from their inquiring glare on party day when you do not feed your child their likely-expensive special goodie. Contact your bakery and have a suitable replacement created.  Bring it to the party and discreetly replace your child's dessert at the appropriate time.  Some party moms will be super cool about this, some are not, but do what's right for your child.
Note: I had one awesome mom friend who actually bought a dairy-free cupcake especially for my daughter and showed it to me before the party to confirm that she could eat it.

7. Teach your child to speak for him/herself.
No matter your child's age, he/she knows what's going on.  Make him a part of the solution.  It will reduce his frustration with not being able to eat foods to which he is allergic.  Empower him to make food choices that are safe and yummy.  My 2 year old daughter told a preschool substitute teacher that "I can't eat goldfish because I'm dairy free."

8.  Eat the allergen in front of your child.
Don't live in an allergen free bubble.  Your child will see other people eating it.  Make that normal and ok.  This is preferable to your child finding you hiding in the pantry sneaking a bite of a particular food. Explain that the food makes their tummy hurt, but that it is ok for other people to eat it.  Offer them a delicious alternative then have a snack together.

9.  If it happens, don't panic.
If your child's allergy produces an anaphylactic reaction, then please call 911 and use the EpiPen.  Panic will still not help in this situation.  Deal with the reaction and move on.  Note what caused it and be more careful.  You may learn the hard way, but you will learn.

10. Hope they grow out of it.
While this is unlikely in many cases, it's ok to hope.  And don't feel guilty about it.  Having a food allergy is stressful for you, and your child, and that's ok too.  You can work together to make it as manageable as possible without letting it put a damper on fun times!


Sunday, February 7, 2016

Tuesday Night Lights

Tuesday Night Lights

Brisk wind grazes my cheek, rushing past the edge of my plastic poncho’s hood.  I lean back, welcoming the rough chain links that support my tired spine.  I glance at the clock and see 4:39.  “Man, halftime is short,” I think to myself as I set the rusty scoreboard controller on the damp bleacher next to me and stand up to stretch.  It is a cool October night, with drizzling rain – perfect football weather.  Our 8th grade B team handily won the first game, now the A team boys are fighting for the second.
I glance around and my eyes take in the scene behind the bleachers in a field that is more dirt than grass.  Boys are grouped up by age, engaged in various football drills.  While there are no pads, helmets, or teams, these boys are learning to play.  Tough dads bark orders and little boys hastily comply.  The older ones are running tires, doing knee-highs, and perfecting a three-point stance.  They attack these simple drills with faces made of stone, never wavering in their determination to be the best. 
On one side of the field a teenager wearing a sling on his arm speaks to a group of rapt elementary age students, explaining to them how important the line is in protecting the quarterback.  They nod appreciatively and marvel at the high school jersey hanging from his broad shoulders. 
Preschool aged boys, egged on by proud fathers, take turns clutching a football tightly and running through an obstacle course of plastic cones.  “Take care of the football!” reminds a large man high-fiving them as they pass.  Off to the muddy edge, a group of toddlers play with nerf footballs under the supervision of older sisters as their mothers watch the ‘big boys.’  The girls point and stare at the boys practicing while feigning disinterest when the boys return their admiring gazes.  The mothers evaluate each boy as well as the men coaching them.  They exchange appreciative nods at jobs well done and knowing looks when a reprimand is given. 
“Miss, I got you some nachos,” chirps a voice behind me.  I turn to see a former student wearing a band T-shirt holding the nachos and a drink form the concession stand where she is working tonight.  I reach for my purse and she stops me saying “Don’t worry about it.  It’s on us.  Thanks for keeping score tonight.”  She grins and trots back down the steps towards the hut on the side of the field house.
I hear the twang of the aluminum bleacher as I plop back down to enjoy my snack.  My eyes travel off past the scoreboard to the varsity practice field where even from this distance I can hear the whistles blowing and the bodies crashing into one another.  I watch young men pushing themselves to their limit running, blocking, tackling, and kicking.  Tonight they wear simple practice jerseys, once white, now the color of grass, dirt, and sweat all worked in over many weeks. 
Past them, on yet another field, I see the junior varsity team doing conditioning drills.  Without complaint, each boy runs, drops, rises, and runs again.  With aching legs, they continue the drills.  I see a boy fall out, and 3 others grab him and pull him along.  The coaches don’t intervene, but they know that the bond these boys form will carry them through the toughest games of the season.  As their practice ends, some of the boys head for the field house, but many don’t.  They drag themselves back onto that well-trodden field for a few more reps.  The coaches watch in silence, with approving nods.
In the distance I can see the stadium.  The lights are on, and the grounds crew is hard at work mowing and painting, preparing for Friday night.  Its tall bleachers and covered press box would be much more welcoming than this cold bench right now, but playing on that field is an honor reserved for only the high school’s elite.
All too soon, the harsh metallic buzzing ends my reverie.  I set the clock for 8 more minutes and watch our soggy huddle break up as the boys rush back onto the field.  Their exhilaration seems contagious and the cheerleaders break into wild giggles.  Despite the rain and the mud, their love of the game shines through.  
As I watch them slog through each play, my mind drifts over the football memories in my head. Stories my dad has told me about his own playing days filled with tough coaches and even tougher players.  I remember watching games perched on my grandfather’s hospital bed in his final days.  Freezing while bundled in all my ski gear attending the playoffs with my dad. Buying and selling tickets in the parking lot and learning the language of the scalpers.  Attending South Grand Prairie High School’s homecoming with my parents and hearing my mom tell her drill team stories.  Listening to my Uncle Brent cheer on the Cowboys as my grandmother did her victory dances.  Football intertwines family, passion, and character. 
As I look around me I see another generation growing up under the lights – not the Friday night lights that bring prestige and honor. The ones filled with long, hot practices, tough coaches, endless conditioning drills, and no spectators – the Tuesday night lights.


Thursday, February 4, 2016

The Evolution of a Judge

I am preparing to take a test.  Not really just a test, a TEST.  A big deal opportunity for me to take a step up in the world.  In this particular case, it's a test related to a hobby I enjoy.  I'm really excited about it, but I'm a little terrified at the same time.  After 4 years of being a stay-at-home mom, it's a little weird getting back out into the gaming scene.  Keep reading to follow my journey into a whole new world.

In 2013, my husband and his friends wanted to play Magic: The Gathering at his dad's house while we were in Seattle visiting for Christmas.  I had never played before, and other than hearing the name, knew nothing about it, but decided that I like games . . . so what's to lose, right?

Background on me: I play to win.  Every game, all the time, every time.  I play for fun too.  Winning is fun.  When I learn a new game, I read the rules (all of them) and use them to my advantage while playing.  I ask questions, exploit gray areas, and generally push the limits.  Playing by the rules is important to me though - cheating is not ok, even if it means that you lose.

Magic is a complicated game.  Really complicated.  The rules are found in an app that is hundreds of pages long.  Clearly, I started out at a disadvantage.

We began with a draft.  This means that we sat in a circle and each opened a package containing 15 cards.  We then selected 1 card, and passed the rest to the person on our left.  So next we are each holding 14 cards.  Pick 1, pass 13 to the left.  You get the idea.  After doing this for 3 packages (passing the second package to the right, third package to the left again), you hold 45 cards from which you assemble a deck (stack of cards) to use to play against other people.

I took my 45 cards and looked at them.  They were all the same color (good, right?) and had various skills and abilities, none of which I knew anything about.  I chose the best ones for my deck by looking at them and guessing how good they were.  Let's just say . . . I lost every game.  In fact I lost every game badly even while my opponents tried to tell me the rules as I repeatedly broke most of them.

That night, one of the guys there was D'Art.  D'Art said he was a "judge."  That sounded pretty scary, but it turned out that he has a passion for helping new players.  In fact, the way he explained the concepts to me made the game accessible to me.  It changed 'something I didn't understand' into 'something I could learn.'  He took his time and didn't rush me, explaining the same thing over and over again if necessary (and it was very necessary).  He broke concepts down into smaller parts and explained the complicated vocabulary of tapping lands for mana, declaring attackers and blockers, casting spells, and responding to triggered abilities.  While I can't say it improved my play that night, I am forever grateful to D'Art for opening that first door for me to learn the game.

We played again a few nights later.  We even went to a game store to buy more cards.  (Yet another enlightening experience . . . )  My play didn't improve much, and after that trip, I twice went to a local game store in February, and lost badly.  My husband kept playing sporadically, but I pretty much stopped. (I did play once in May - badly.)

In Seattle again for Thanksgiving 2014, we played more Magic with the same guys.  I was still terrible, but I had learned a little from watching my husband play.  It was more fun than the first time.  (This is where the addiction starts.  Golfers, you understand this too.)

My husband and his brother started playing pretty regularly.  He went every Friday night to play and sometimes even entered tournaments on Saturdays.  I, still clueless, tried the game store once more in December, and then just watched him play from time to time, and was a little jealous of the fun he was having.  He made new friends, built decks, traded cards, and got invited to drafts at people's houses.

May 2015: While I was pregnant with our 3rd child, I for some inexplicable reason decided that I wanted to go to Las Vegas with him for a Magic Grand Prix tournament.  I had never been to Las Vegas and thought the trip would be fun.  He could play; I could explore.  We could eat, enjoy shows, and I could watch him play in the tournament on Saturday.  His dad had a timeshare we could use; my mom agreed to watch our 2 toddlers . . . it was a plan.

Somehow the idea came up that I could play in the tournament.  It wasn't that expensive.  The format was sealed (you get your cards there and do not have to bring a premade deck), so it didn't matter that I had no cards.  It sounded like more fun that just watching.  Plus, you could sign up for a VIP package with cool perks like a name badge and a 'meet and greet' with famous Magic players.  (It turns out that this VIP thing also entitled you to 4 days of free freshly baked Mrs Field's cookies -served warm anytime you wanted one.)  So while I was nervous about the actual playing, I registered. More accurately, my husband registered me, despite my trepidation.

Several other local guys went to this tournament.  They all had matching shirts to represent our local game store.  (Thanks Area 51!) My awesome husband got me a shirt too!!  (Please note: I'm pretty sure that the local store was in no way actually affiliated with me since I had darkened their door a grand total of 5 times before this experience.  I'm also pretty sure that they would have been horrified to be represented by my inept play.)  I was excited to be a part of the group, even if I wasn't really 'on the team.'  I felt so proud to be a player.

I quizzed my husband on the rules and on how tournaments work, having never been to one before.  He kept telling me to "call a judge" if I had questions or needed help.  That sounded like a terrible idea - ask the lords of the game to waste their time on me? Plus, I didn't want to get penalized for being terrible. I mentally resolved that calling a judge would be a last resort and that I would never be that desperate.

So somewhere along the way, out trip got extended.  We flew in Wednesday night and left Monday morning so that we would have 4 full, glorious days of playing Magic.  I had also booked us to see several shows and checked out Grand Canyon tours and other local Magic-free adventures.  As I waddled my 7 month-pregnant self from the airport to our room, I realized just how HOT it was in the desert in May.  Any outdoor plans were immediately nixed.  That first night we enjoyed walking the strip, saw a show, purchased a few necessities at an exorbitant price from a convenience store, and went to bed.

Thursday morning we arrived early to check in for the tournament and claim the all important VIP badges.  We pre-registered for a Sealed Trial (basically a practice Magic tournament).  We played a few small side events, and then in the Sealed Trial, I actually did pretty well.  (I went 3-1-1. Three wins, 1 loss, 1 draw.)  That was a turning point for me.  It whetted my appetite for winning - a dangerously insatiable thing.

As the weekend continued, I immersed myself in not just the game of Magic, but the culture as well.  We met up with our local team guys and enjoyed hanging out together.  We met artists who created the cards, professional players, and lots of other gamers just like us.

The Magic community is a very inclusive group.  No one seems to care if you have purple hair, lots of piercings, a wheelchair, makeup on, or anything else.  There are players of every race and nationality.  Players from all over, speaking all kids of languages. Players who are brand new to the game (me!), players who have played for 20 years (literally).  Everyone just plays with and against whoever they are paired with, happily, without judgment.  Note: While bathing is encouraged, even that is not required!

By Friday, I never wanted to leave the convention center.  The strip was hot, crowded, loud, dirty, and really not that much fun.  Inside that building I found a community of people that embraced me and valued one another for their skills, not their looks or other superficial things. I knew I was home.

While I can't say that I played well the rest of the weekend, I can certainly say that I had fun.  I loved every minute of it.  I started to feel the flow of matches and games.  I learned the little things, like how to shuffle the cards, and how to keep life totals.

I even called a judge a few times!  These judges were not tyrants or rulers.  They were actually really cool guys.  They seemed to like helping players (even really bad ones).  They explained the rules and I learned a lot.  Their rulings generally caused me to lose - but it was my own fault, and I accept that.  Each judge smiled at me, looked me in the eye, clearly detailed the situation and what occurred, and corrected my misunderstandings. I am ever so grateful for these gentlemen who took the time to be kind while dealing with a newbie like me.

On Saturday, in the main event, my husband and I were slotted on opposite sides of the room for an 8,000 player event.  I was a bit nervous reporting to my table for the player meeting, but the judges walked us all through deck registration, construction, and the tournament itself.  I lost my first 3 matches pretty quickly . . .

My husband did well, and one of our friends did even better.  He made it to the second day of the event!  Seeing that success was energizing - it made me crave more as well.  I knew that Magic was no longer my husband's hobby.  It was mine as well.

In the 2 months following that trip, I attended a couple more Friday Night Magic (FNM) events and a couple of larger tournaments.  Then in July I played in another Grand Prix, this one in our home city.  It was still a couple of weeks before my due date, so I explained to my husband that if I went into labor, we would finish the tournament, then head to the hospital.  That way he would not hastily drop form the tournament if my water broke!  I didn't play well again, but had a blast!

My husband told me that the way to get good at Magic is to lose a lot of games.  Well, I worked hard towards that goal - and lost a lot of games!

I took a few weeks off in August to have a baby, but otherwise, I was at FNM as many weeks as I could find a babysitter.

I did notice that our local store rarely had a judge around.  The rounds were always running late.  No one knew what was going on. The store owner often made rulings on games, which a player looked up afterwards and they were often wrong.  I missed the more structured, well run atmosphere of the Grand Prix events.  Note: Our players were always gracious and accepted the situation for what it was.

I decided to pursue my judge certification.  My husband was working on his, so I knew the steps, and set about following them on my own.  In October I learned how to take practice tests online.  I downloaded the rules app to my phone and began studying.  The I took test after test, failing most of them.  While I didn't score well, I learned a lot.  I saw my weaknesses and worked on learning those things.

After a while I felt like I should just drop it.  I was terrible at the rules and my husband constantly pointed that out.  Even when I thought I made a correct ruling, he shot me down.  Then one night, we disagreed on a ruling while playing at home.  I explained my ruling and cited the relevant rules text and he still told me I was wrong.  A few days later, he looked me in the eye and apologized.  He explained that I had been correct and he disliked that he was incorrect.  That moment was another game changer.

Since then we have disagreed on many rulings, but we have looked them up to see who was correct, and I'm proud to say that my percentage is improving.  My confidence was waning, but seeing that he could accept my rulings changed that.  Realizing that knowledge and correct application of the rules would gain me respect regardless of how long I have played was refreshing.  My excitement grew and I studied harder.  The local store even let me help judge a few casual events.

For Christmas 2015, we returned to Seattle and I got another chance to play with the guys who saw my first Magic draft.  It was quite a different experience! They played with me as an equal.  I even got the chance to thank D'Art for showing me how cool judges are as well as helping me learn to play.  I came home excited about joining the ranks of judging! I set a personal goal to complete my L1 judge certification before our anniversary trip (to a Magic Grand Prix of course!) at the end of February.

I joined a Magic Facebook group and started following the local scene, especially noting the local judges.  While I don't get to go out and play as much as I'd like (babysitting is expensive!) at least I'm in the loop. I also set up a profile on the judge website and learned how to apply to judge at larger events.  I've also tried to help out the local store with their publicity by promoting them on Facebook and updating the in-store calendar.  I'm excited to help grow the game of Magic in our local community.

In the past weeks, I played in several larger competitive events, paying attention to how they were run as well as the judges roles and behaviors.  I also took and passed the online L0 test and the L1 practice test.  I joined a Facebook Magic study group, and familiarized myself with our regional coordinator.  I am gaining more and more confidence in my rulings, and I feel like I'm ready.

A few days ago, I contacted a local L2 judge who can test me for my L1.  This particular judge was recommended to me by my husband as a quality judge who is working on his L3 and looking to certify new judges.  Note: He certified my husband.

Background on me: While I love my husband and enjoy gaming with him, it is important to me that what I achieve, I achieve on my own.  (Warning: I might get a little militant about this part!)

I messaged the judge on Facebook, but received no response after several days of excitedly checking my phone.  Grudgingly, I asked my husband for the judge's Hangouts name and sent a message.  He replied instantly!

I introduced myself and said that I was looking to become a judge.  He immediately asked who referred me to him. Fair question I suppose, but I was hoping to avoid the 'tag-along-wife' moniker.  I simply stated my husband's name.  The L2's response, "By the last name am i correct in assuming you are related? :-)" [sic]

*sigh* I didn't want to go there.  I wanted to do this on my own.  But no way to dodge that question.  I told him the truth.

"Has he been working with you on the rules . . ."  No!!!!!  Well, actually yes, he has.  At my insistence.  As I'm studying, I ask him about concepts I need clarification on and we work through scenarios together.  I do most of my studying on my own.  I just practice with my husband.  And yes, our pillow talk is about Magic.

Again, I don't mind that I study with my husband, but the way the question was phrased sounded to me like it implied that the impetus was on my husband - and that is not true.  My desire to be a judge has nothing to do with him.

The judge finally moved on to asking about my qualifications. I have met all of the requirements to test, so he invited me to meet up with him in 2 weeks for the test.  My excitement was tempered when he suggested that I bring my husband.

Maybe I'm reading too much into things here, but I think I can test on my own.  I can drive myself (I know, woman drivers!), I know the material, I will rock the interview - I'm ready for this.  All my work and studying really felt belittled by "bring your husband."

I am quite certain that this judge meant no offense.  In fact, he was probably being nice and trying to make me feel more comfortable.

I internally ranted and raved about feeling like a lesser human being due to 'lack of penis,' but outwardly I kept my cool and responded politely to the judge.  I know that the only way to change the  initial opinion that a female, newer player, whose husband is a judge is not as good is to be THAT GOOD.  So in 2 weeks, I will go alone, pass my test, ace my interview, and show that judge (and more importantly myself) that I am qualified to judge and that I will be an asset to the Magic community as an L1.

Then I'll start work on my L2 . . .