On poker and parenting

Last night my nephew Tyler and his friend Katie drove down from Greely to have dinner with us. Scott and I have learned to love these visits, partly because we have no other relatives in the state and partly because these visits always culminate in a game of poker. Now while an enjoyable game, I don't necessarily love poker except for the fact that my sullen sixteen-year-old Hank, who is a card shark within his group of buddies, will succumb to play with us when Tyler is in town. Scott and I are so ecstatic on these nights. These days, we are desperate parents, sorely missing the little boy who once demanded so much attention, so for us it's all about bonding.

Playing poker reminded me of a little episode several weeks ago where the stakes were far more important that the seven dollar kitty. It all began with a bout of verbal jabs between sons that culminated in a round of boxing in the mini-van in a quickly aborted bowling outing. After careful deliberation, Scott and I banished the boys from the house for the afternoon and confiscated the highly coveted Xbox for an unspecified sentence. After a week of brotherly love and suck-up, the boys approached us to see if they could reclaim their technology.

"We'll think about it," was our reply.

Now, if you have teenagers you will understand that parenting is kind of like stategic warfare during times like this. These days, it seems that Hank in particular lives his day avoiding as much contact with his parents as he can. How could we turn this into an opportunity for more interaction with our phantom child? Ah--but with a game of poker and a friendly wager, of course.

The bet was simple: If either one of them won, we would return the Xbox. If one us of us won, we would keep it. Understand this, dear reader, I never win at poker, so my children were smug in the knowledge that the Xbox would be theirs that evening. Yet the stakes being what they were transformed me into a she-Doyle Brunson. Within these parameters, I kept my focus. I would not bet against Scott. Son number two, the cocky bluffer, could not hold his own against his mother. Within four hands, he was out. Son number one, our beloved Hank, knocked out Scott. But Lady Luck was on my side, and she dealt me playable hand after playable hand. Man, did it feel good to beat the child who didn't think I could do it.

Lesson: A mother with resolve can accomplish anything.

As for last night? Round one rendered Scott and me the last two players. However, when the bet is a buck, winning against kids isn't so amusing. In round two, I was second player out. Round three, I was back to my sorry self.

At least I know I can win when I really, really want to.