Steely Eyes

The other night, Jack was working and the kids and I went to dinner. The kids speak more freely when their father isn't there, taking advantage of the "one parent versus two kids" shift in the power dynamic. 

Claire-Adele said she needed a picture of herself for her Facebook profile, and she asked to look at my phone to see if I had any pictures of her that she could use. My new smart phone came with a new operating system that organizes my photos by faces, which is both creepy and useful. The kids then started looking at pictures of me on my phone, most of which are crappy selfies. I don't know how to take a selfie--I always look at the wrong spot or I am squinting, usually both.

"Look at this one," said Claire-Adele handing the phone to her brother. I saw the picture as my phone changed hands.

Tofino, B.C., August 2014

"You have the best steely eyes in this one," said Claire-Adele. Steely eyes? I thought. Here is how the dictionary on my computer defines the word:

steely |ˈstēlē| adjective (steelier, steeliest) 1 resembling steel in color, brightness, or strength: a steely blue.2 coldly determined; hard: there was a steely edge to his questions.
Claire-Adele was refering to the second definition.

"You look like you are not going to take any shit," said the Boy.

"You look like you are female British Minister in wartime," said Claire-Adele. "Like Winston Churchill, but meaner."

Meaner than Winston Churchill? Seriously? And this was meant to be a compliment.

"Dad is smiling and I am in hiding in the background," said the Boy. "While you look like you are going to kick some ass." They both thought this was cool. Or they were making fun of me. Probably both.

How could it be that my kids could see me in such a way that I didn't or don't see myself? When I look at that picture, I think "I was so much skinnier before I tore my ACL" while they are comparing me to military generals. Where did they both get that idea, an idea that they agree on together, when I have such a different view of myself? Or maybe they don't see me much like this, and when they did, they found it remarkable.

This made me wonder if I should take the kids out to dinner alone anymore, especially when they are going to dissect me into bits. Or perhaps this is the reason I should take them out to dinner, to give them a chance to make me--their mother--an open topic for conversation.

Hot Seat

Monday night while Jack was at a dinner for work, I took the kids out for dinner.

"I thought we were having fajitas for dinner," said Claire-Adele as I loaded her and her brother into the car.

"I thought your dad was going to be home," I said. My greatest weakness is going out to eat when I don't want to cook. I didn't feel like making an overly involved meal by myself while the kids lounged on the couch.

We went to Santorini, a mom and pop Italian restaurant across the street from the Boy's former middle school. The food is good and everyone in my family will eat there. The waitstaff are the owner's* kids and are there every time we are there.

At dinner, I was tired, so I sat and listened to the kids, not saying much. The kids were talking about their social lives, and I am happy to be a fly on the wall for the conversation. Before the salads came, Claire-Adele turned to me and asked about my high school boyfriend. "When did you break up with Sean? Before or after you left for college?"

The Boy was quiet, waiting for my answer. "We broke up at the end of my senior year, but he wanted to get back together at the beginning of my freshman year. I was already on and off dating another guy who was a senior..."

Claire-Adele paused. "You were dating a senior when you were a freshman?" The Boy looked equally curious. "How did that happen? Were you hot?" she asked rather incredulously, as if she never could have imagined that possibility.

As much as Claire-Adele was surprised that I landed a senior, I was surprised at the question. I had never really thought about if I was hot or not before. I always had a boyfriend, and that was good enough. Since I always had a boyfriend, I didn't need to be hot. Or so went my logic when I was in high school and college.

With their father not around, both kids peppered me with questions about my college and high school dating life, and for the first time in a really long time, if ever, they were genuinely interested in me. I was in the hot seat, and didn't mind. They asked clarifying questions, and I answered them as truthfully as was reasonable.

When Jack got home from his dinner, I told him about my dinner with the kids. He thought it was hiliarious and "Were you hot?" became the catch-phrase of the day.


* Funny story. The owner is a woman about my dad's age. When my dad came to town, the Boy and I  went to Santorini for dinner with him. The owner came out to our table and started chatting with us, asking about our day, the food, whatever. She never comes to our table for small talk when it is just Jack, the kids and I. Just sayin'...