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Recital Night Notes

12 Jun

After three years of being an unofficial dance mom, you’d think I’d have the tricks for a double recital (about 8 hours in performance mode) down a little better. These are some of my notes from this year to help me for next:

  • Many moms use clothing racks to wheel all their child’s costumes and keep them crisp and easy to sort through during the quick changes. I use one hanger. One hanger for four costumes, a t-shirt and shorts. I’m thinking about getting a rack if Nia’s costume supply grows. Also, if for nothing else, to reserve our spot in the dressing room. Which brings me to the next thing …
  • Racks are the boss. I had Nia’s costumes and accessories all nicely waiting in a small spot near her other dancing buds. I got there earlier than half the room to make sure I’d have a space because I stress about this. I get anxious. (I’m weird about crowds and having an area to work.) Well, a mom who was armed with a rack big enough for three girls’ fancies parked right in front of Nia’s things. I got a little flustered but handled it as “me” as I could. “Um, excuse me. Let me just grab our things … (mumble) that were already here and ready to go …” I probably still won’t get a rack but even if I did, I wouldn’t use it to shove others around.
  • I missed the memo about good snack ideas. Pringles seem to be the chip of choice. I’m thinking it has to do with the tube to prevent crumbs during transit and dressing turmoil. Nia didn’t seem to mind that she was pretty much the only one without the tube of salty crunchies. After all, I couldn’t find Pringles dill pickle chips. I just dumped the dill pickle chips I did have in a plastic container. Voilá. My version of the tube. I will remember grapes and cheese squares next year though. Chippies make for a great mood changer treat but healthy is best!
  • Kind of in line with moods, baby wipes are a must next year for erasing makeup smudges after the very tired performer understandably gets emotional because “I need more lipstick!” or “People are stepping on my blanket!” or “My feet hurt!” (Nia held it together without tears but I want to be prepared.) The outbursts I did witness are quite comical to me because they are usually over nothing and the drama is so overboard only the Coast Guard with a helicopter rope could rescue it from sinking. Or maybe chips …
  • I need to remember slippers and a robe or a wrap to help with Nia’s privacy concerns and comfort.
  • For goodness sakes mom (me) remember the dang body spray glitter! All the girls sparkle with it and it seems like the amount of glitter on both mom and daughter the next morning is directly related to amount of fun had the night before.
  • Bring the makeup remover with us so Nia doesn’t look like an underage college student after a night of hitting bars that don’t card. Also, to help keep her eyes from swelling shut due to sensitivity to the stuff that shouldn’t be on her face yet. Remove it ASAP!
  • This one I don’t really have to remind myself about but I want to always remember that in the craziness of the night, keep my smile and let the happy tears fall, cherishing these years of watching her grow into a young lady. I love being able to give her special one-on-one attention and praise. I want to always be her biggest fan and source of encouragement – and, of course, ready with her emergency dance chips.

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Reckless Bidder

3 Jun

Lesson learned. Although, it’s a lesson I should have already known really.

If you don’t have a way to get it home, don’t buy it. Especially when you’re trying to get a deal. Renting a truck or paying for delivery would defeat the entire score.

Silly me to think that someone else would outbid my $100 for a large octagon-shaped wood table and chairs at a recent auction. Silly.

Andrew would likely use a different word to describe my action but he’s known me for some years now so there are things he’s used to – like how to react when I text him that I spent money on something that we don’t need and I can’t drive it home in my car – or his. He texts back, “Ok. Now what? We don’t have a truck.”

My response: “I know this.”

He can tell I’m now both stressed about my reckless purchase and unhappy with his response to my buyer’s remorse.

“We can strap it to the roof?”

“Yes.”

“Take a picture so I can see what I’m dealing with.”

Minutes later, he calls me and tells me he has a master plan.

Minutes after that, he pulls up to the auction in our neighbor’s pickup truck. (Rescued by dear friends!)

I can tell he doesn’t love (or even like) the table but he is a good friend and comedian and pokes fun at me by saying things like, “I had to be the guy who borrows his neighbor’s truck.” And something about “putting the cart before the horse.”

Now that it’s in our house, I’m not even sure I love it but it did help that after a few hours of it in its new spot, Andrew told me he thinks it’s a nice addition. (Even after all the jokes.)

Sold! – to the person who can’t get it home!

I have high hopes of refinishing it and then having it for a game/puzzle table. Eventually, when the next age group of “toys” replace the ones that live in our family room now, we will have a bar and finally hang my stained glass poker-table light that I’ve had for years to spice it up some.

In the meantime, I’m thinking we need to invest in a truck. I wonder if any are being auctioned …

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Mom “Types”

13 May

Hey, ma. You love your kid, right? You care about whether your child is sad, sick, hungry, happy, well-behaved, mannerly, respectful, treated right by others … right? I know there are trying times, but your love and protection is always there. I think that’s swell and I want you to know it.

I’ve read a few blog posts over the last few months that talk about mom “types” and they’re bringing me down. It comes to my mind even more after all the TIME magazine cover hubbub about “attachment parenting.” I’ve also heard a lot about “helicopter moms” and of course there’s always the ever-present and anger-causing divide between “working moms” and “stay-at-home moms.”

  • This blog post talks about “judgmental moms” then goes on to judge other moms by asking at the end, “Which parent type do you not like?”
  • This blog post labels all the different moms seen at the school – some are spoken highly of, some are questioned.
  • This one goes so far to talk about how much she doesn’t like moms who cut their children’s food in fun shapes but then concludes that she doesn’t like when other moms judge her.

Why are we so mean to each other? Why do we group people like this? Because it helps us relate in some way? To know our place? I can understand that there will be other people we don’t get along with or whose company we don’t necessarily enjoy, but are these moms endangering their children’s lives in some way? Are they demeaning, neglectful or abusive? Is she killing her child’s spirit? If that’s the case, I feel it’s a different thing because then she is hurting her child, not just offending others with her mom style. It seems to me the acts that the labels describe are not harmful to their children, just their mom esteem.

I am guilty of having a gut reaction to some of the parenting styles I see. I’ve actually written about it before: It’s Just Sad to Me and It Takes a Village and All That. In these cases, I feel like the parents are putting their children in direct risk of harm and I struggle with my feelings about it. I know I’ve done plenty of things that would get a head shake or a clicked tongue by some moms.

I let my kids watch tv – even in the car. They play video games. It takes me days to put away their laundry. Sometimes, they eat fast food and don’t get enough veggie servings in a day. I attempted breastfeeding for as long as I could but didn’t make myself – or my child – miserable when my body said no more. I co-slept with them. I let them cry themselves to sleep. I’ve raised my voice to them. I’ve disciplined harshly. I’ve questioned a low grade on a test and reviewed it with them to teach them. I’ve over-praised and bragged on them. I’ve loved intensely, letting their moods and feelings heavily affect mine. I’ve wondered how the heck to be a mom.

All of those things came from caring about them and about whether I was being a good mom to them, as I’m sure many of the labeled moms are trying to do. My kids seem to love and respect me – and generally think I’m ok, so far. (In fact, Nia just told me I’m the “best” and she didn’t ask for a treat after it.) Is there a mom type for that?

I kinda like them.

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Passion to Play

1 May

Sometimes, all I can say is wow. Wow. Did Nate just do that? How was he so quick? How did he see that happening? How did he know to do that?

At 6 years old, Nate knows more about the rules and design of baseball than many adults. (I still don’t get that infield fly rule.) Nate pays attention. He knows where the runners are and what he needs to do to help make the out. Tag the base. Tag the runner. Throw it to Second. Cover a base. He thinks without hesitation. He watches every move on the diamond, even when he’s not on it. In the dugout, he and his buddy, Jack, cling to the fence,  focused on the field excitement and anxiously awaiting their turns to bat.

I know that as they all get older, more and more players will grasp, practice and perfect all that is baseball. Now though, I just stand jaw-dropped watching Nate’s passion to play guide him out there. I was so amazed at a recent catch he made for an out while playing shortstop that I missed the immediate second out he made when he ran to Second Base to tag the runner heading toward him.

I did manage to capture some pre-wow pictures during that game. He just has so much heart and intensity. The love of the game is an incredible thing.

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Makes a Catch for an Out

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Super Stretch to Make the Catch for an Out

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Finally, time to hit!

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Got It!

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Played Hard

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Why Is Nine Afraid of Seven?

29 Apr

Because eight was so great.

Department Store Catalog Pose featuring her Fashion Creation

I know nine will be too, I’m just going through the typical parent emotion of watching the years fly by. To see Nia’s sweet, smart and caring spirit adapt to and try to understand different experiences as she figures out how to respond and feel. To see her become her own person, create her own sense of style, humor and thoughts. It is wonderful, but wild.

Trying to be serious during a fit of giggles.

Her eighth year was full of firsts and new emotions. Riding without training wheels; keeping her Barbies in the drawer and, instead, spending more time with the door to her room closed to sing and dance to the latest pop music; watching less cartoons and more human-acted TV shows and movies; falling in love with Grease (and even seeing it live as a play – thanks, Aunt Ree!); and wanting to put a little more distance between her mom or dad as she plays outsides or explores a store. (I never let her out of my sight!)

Little Mall Shopper

Now, as she starts on her ninth year, I hope she handles her new adventures and challenges with the same thought and heart that she has shown so far. She tries her best, loves a good joke (which I attempted for her with the title), knows how to laugh at herself and how to make others laugh, and most beautifully, is caring to all.

Sharing the love while she sleeps.

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From Sick to Silly

29 Apr

Her birthday party invitations asked her closest girl pals to join her at the theater for popcorn, sweets and a cute flick called “Chimpanzee.” Her request for a red velvet cupcake was going to come true and the silly favors were ready – miniature Monkeys-in-a-Barrel. Then, Strep throat struck the star of the shindig.

Party postponed.

A very saddened and sick nine-year-old cried in my arms. I wanted to cry too but amazingly (unbelievably) I didn’t ( in front of her anyway). I told her we would still have the party, but we just couldn’t today. Yes, sweet Bean, you will still get a red velvet cupcake if you want.

She slept through the time she would’ve been celebrating.

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Sicky and Sleepy

The rest was needed. A day later, thankfully, she was back to her silly self and asked for pickles. Party on.

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Feeling Better

We held the party do-over a week later and it was a success! Bean loved her birthday at the big screen – complete with giggles and chattiness that couldn’t be helped among the girlies.

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Spring Break(ing Me Down)

19 Apr

I kid. I kid. Spring Break 2012 has been great, it’s just hard to keep these tiny customers entertained and pleased each day ’round the daylight hours without collapsing. It works out wonderfully that I get to have the week off with them and have my mom (“Honey”) here at the same time but kids will wear you down, man. I forgot what it’s like to have all the minutes in the day to enjoy with children packing limitless energy. I actually sent them to “school” for one of the days.

Really though, they got to shadow with their buddies who attend an area private school to see if it’s something they may like. They both loved it. I think we will wait a year and see how Nate handles First Grade at his current school before we decide on making a major move. It’s good to know that they both were happy there – and frozen yogurt with buds at the end of the short day was a sweet topping.

Frozen Yogurt Friends

We spent another day shopping. Nia scored her new favorite (slightly) heeled shoes and we all laughed as Nate busted a move near the CD samples of 60’s Swing near the greeting cards at Target.

Some other Spring Break hours were spent on a special daddy/son baseball night that featured Tim Hudson pitching for the Gwinnett Braves and a happy Nate with a ball.

Thanks to a Sharing, Stranger

Another fun (and brave) day involved a field trip to the Atlanta Botanical Garden thanks to my friend, Tracy, who gave us guest passes. Of course, we had an adventure figuring out how to get there when my GPS needed slapped to obey me. Then, Nate ran through most of the Garden like he was in a sprint race (and sighed out at one point, “You keep wanting to look at all the flowers!”). What I will remember most is this:

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Following the Map Readers

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Momma's Pack, Complete with Necessary First Aid Kit

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Enjoying the Exploring

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"What's in that cave?" "Boo!"

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Giant Caterpillar is Hungry

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Loved the Children's Garden

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Whoa! Bees!

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Favorite Fancy Flower

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Trying to get the frog to jump in his pocket.

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Happy Day with Honey

I guess a good Spring Break is one where the adult supervision needs a nap during the day while the kids destroy one of their rooms.

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Passing the Test

16 Apr

The gas gauge dinged at me as I pulled out of my garage with 30 minutes until my new job’s pre-employment screening.

Thirty minutes? I got this. I can make it there on time just fine.

Stopped at first station – plastic bags over the pumps.

Stopped at second station – card reader wouldn’t work.

Drove out of that station and realized I failed to close my gas cap. Seconds tick away in a bank parking lot as I get out of my car for the third time in five minutes.

The third station was a charm but I was losing valuable minutes and it was a Texaco, not my usual gas go-to. (I’m a loyal-to-one-fuel-for-my-ride kinda gal.)

Got to Human Resources right on time by my clock, but five minutes late by theirs. Everyone was very nice and I didn’t see it scribbled on any paperwork that I was late.

Went through awkward pee in the cup drug screening, TB test bubble in arm and blood draw for concerning diseases. Couldn’t understand simple instructions to fill out a form half in pencil and half in pen. Somehow, my brain shut down when it was being explained to me. This also happened during the cup collection. I kept repeating in my head, “Don’t wash hands, don’t flush toilet.” Goodness, the pressure of peeing in a cup the proper way.

When I was finally allowed to wash my hands, water soaked the front of my dress. Yes, right in that questionable “Did she have an accident?” spot.

Luckily, my dress dried with time to spare before lunch with my new boss. She showed me my – probably temporary – office. Temporary because they are still determining where the new team will be located but it will be so great to have an office for any length of time! It even has a window. I don’t know how to act.

During lunch, we had a nice time talking about the job and getting to know each other. The only awkward moment happened when I couldn’t bite through a pita chip and she very politely pretended not to notice my struggle with food half in and half out of my mouth. Of course, I had to point it out to her though. “Boy, that pita chip was harder than I expected!” She was sweet and said she’s had the same issue with them. That’s cool in my book.

Despite the hiccups here and there, I have very good feelings about what’s ahead. Plus, it only took me 25 minutes to get home! (On a full tank of gas.)

First Round of Tests Done! Ready for Next Step!

It Was Fun

14 Apr

My employee badge is turned in, my desk is cleared out (I think … please let me know if I forgot something) and my see-you-laters were said through tears.

My time at Children’s has come to an end but the memories and friendships I made there will stay with me. I will keep them safe and hold them dear for always.

Best "Bye" Card Ever

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Release

12 Apr

With only four commutes to Atlanta to go, a Rooms To Go truck got the best of me today.

If you know my driving history, it may be tough to believe I have maintained a relatively courteous and calm commute style – avoiding tailing others (when possible), allowing others (who properly use their blinkers) to merge in front of me and, unbelievably, not losing my temper at every jerkface driver I encounter. I actually adopted the reaction of smile and wave, but the shame-on-you mom head shake is another option that I enjoy and use frequently. (Also, giving a thumbs up while mouthing the words “You got real far, didn’t you?” as I pull beside someone at a red light who cut off a line of cars a few seconds earlier. For my added pleasure, I’ll throw in a hand clap of rub-it-in for them.)

But today, just two days before I break up with multiple bumper-to-bumper lanes of traff*ck, a Rooms To Go truck squeezed itself nearly on top of my Maxx to get in my, also not-moving, lane.

Well, my fierce middle finger couldn’t be controlled. It fired – and fired and fired. The truck’s driver saw it fire as I evasively merged in the other not-moving lane.

The driver must have thought he didn’t deserve such an ugly reaction so he began to honk at me. He kept pulling up beside my passenger side window and honking.

I never looked over. I did fire another middle digit at him – and a head shake. (Had to throw that one in.)

That’s when the next response happened. I sobbed. Uncontrollably. I sobbed for a good two miles which translates to 10 minutes for Atlanta traffic.

I was a mess but then I felt so much better after the tears stopped. In fact, I wanted to catch up to the driver and give him the signature, “I’m sorry” wave, complete with the “whoopsies” facial expression. (Didn’t happen.)

I guess I just needed the release. So, thanks for that Rooms To Go truck driver. However, I hope I don’t see you during my last three commutes.

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