Tippy Toes and Tantrums

The Maria Shriver Thing

When it rains, it pours. For some reason I had several offers of things to do last night and I had to turn down all but two, keeping my every other month dinner with my mom friends from Clover's old preschool and a well timed Silicon Valley Moms Blog meetup with Maria Shriver. I had to race between the events, arriving at dinner only about 15 minutes late, sitting down perfectly in time to order margaritas. When my friends asked where I'd been, I lamely tried to casually explain, "oh this thing with Maria Shriver." Every head turned as they shouted WHAT? which was probably due to surprise, but could have been that they didn't hear because I mumbled.

The deal, I explained, was that Maria Shriver has a new book out and had a private talk with us as part of the promotion, even if it was a very subtle promotion. The book is small, a really quick read that I finished here and there with dealing with Rocket. I think it is a perfectly sized graduation gift book, but as she pointed out on The Colbert Report, the book is really tailored to older people who are questioning who they are and what they want to do with their life. It's especially perfect for moms who are balancing life and children while trying to figure out where their families end and they begin.

Slightly cynical is one way to describe me and while it would be easy to write off her book by saying that she is in a much different place - at least financially - which allows her to reevaluate and recreate herself, that would be completely missing the point. I liked her a lot. She was witty and personable and what she had to say was absolutely relateable. In the book, she pledges to herself to take 10 minutes each day for "silence and stillness" and someone asked her last night how she manages to fit that in with four children and a busy life. Maria said the other night she had 10 minutes before dinner and everyone in the house was busy, so she laid down in her closet and that sometimes she has to lock herself in the bathroom for a few minutes of quiet. Seriously, what mother cannot relate to that? I've had to lock myself in the bathroom to finish brief phone conversations.

The effort to get to the event to meet her was so worth it. It was helpful to hear from someone whom one would assume has it all together, but yet has the same "who am I?" question to deal with that plagues me and most other moms. As Rocket gets older, I get closer to going back to work, but I cannot figure out what that means exactly and how it will fit into my family life. Last night was a reminder of how far away I've gotten from when I was reporter. I arrived to the event late (and for the first time in my life not stressed about it), without a pen or notebook and with my crappy playground camera. For the first year after quitting my job when Clover was a baby, I continued to take notes religiously. Every phone conversation was documented. Flash forward five years and I show up to meet Maria Shriver without a pen. So, yes, I have many questions to ask myself, but I think I'll steal the idea to take a few minutes each day for solitude. I wish I could steal her beautifully curly hair, but that ain't gonna happen.

Quitting Ballet: Learning to Love Dropping Out

"Ballet is boring," my five year old daughter told me a few weeks ago. "Is it? But you love it!" I'd say in an overly peppy voice as I dragged her there each week. Maybe she didn't love it, but she did enjoy it once she got to class, the hard part was ripping her away from her friends after school to rush home, get changed and race back out to ballet. When she told me she wanted to quit, I tried to change her mind, hoping that she'd stick with it through the recital in June, which felt like a natural end point to me. She agreed to think about it for a few days before deciding, even though I knew her mind was set. The next week I called to quit, feeling a little embarrassed and like a huge failure. There would be no more recitals, tutus or soft pink ballet slippers.

I knew my problem with Clover's quitting was just that: my problem, not hers. I had no dream of Clover growing up to be a ballerina that I needed to get over, I simply hate quitting. I can understand ending early over myriad reasons like an injury or a bad instructor, but with ballet everything was fine other than Clover found it boring. She told me she hated the repetition. I tried to explain that becoming good at anything - ballet, music, skateboarding, whatever - requires repetition, but Clover rolled her eyes and moved on. I wasn't so ready to move on, but in a unique coincidence I happened to catch a few minutes of a Simpsons episode that helped me change my mind.

I haven't watch The Simpsons in quite a while, but the last few minutes of the Smoke on the Daughter episode spoke to me as Lisa quit ballet mid-recital, saying that it was something that society was forcing upon children and that there are unrealistic demands put on ballerinas of all ages. Backstage her instructor said "you'll never take down big ballet!" I laughed and it allowed me to take a step back to see that while it wasn't my dream to be a ballerina, I was still forcing it on my daughter. Suddenly quitting "big ballet" was the thing to do.

Missing the first week of ballet felt awkward, but by the second week I loved having one less commitment. No more rushing away from school, turning over everything in the house and car to find the ballet shoes or waking up my son from his nap to get to class on time. Quitting ballet gave us time. I didn't realize how much stress that one class put on our life. Clover still has two extra curricular activities, but they are at a better time for her, which makes participation much easier on our entire family.

Now I come off as a born again quitter, preaching the benefits to anyone who'll listen. If Clover didn't love her remaining classes, I'd probably quit at least one of them too. Fewer activities means more freedom for us, even if we spend that time at home drawing or reading, which is what we usually do. The slower pace is nice and all it took was hanging up the leotard. Still, I will probably be a little wistful come recital season in June, but by Nutcracker time, I hope to be totally free of big ballet's clutch. My daughter has not looked back.

Alabaster is the New White

Painting our kitchen ceiling is a task I've been dreading since we moved in a few years ago and in my procrastination we've lived with an ugly ceiling in the meantime. Not the ceilings are are aesthetically a big deal, it is just that when we moved in, there was a huge florescent lighting unit in the kitchen with all the warmth and style that comes with warehouse-type lighting. We finally got around to replacing the lighting fixture, but then had a huge gap in the ceiling, exposing the attic. With his eye for beauty, Kevin covered it up with cardboard and packaging tape, but the occasionally windy day would produce enough gust in our attic that the ceiling patch would blow down. Why hasn't Dwell or Architectural Digest featured us? I don't know.

The hole the eventually patched (it seriously took getting three different handymen out here to finally get the job done) and I primed the spot, but didn't paint it until Saturday when I redid the entire ceiling paint. Alabaster looked like a warmer white on paper, markedly darker than pure white, but as I rolled away in the heat with paint splattering all over my hair and face, it became clear that alabaster is a nice word for plain old white. At least the new paint isn't as shiny as the old one, so while the color may be almost identical, there is less glare coming off the ceiling.

The rest of the weekend was spent at two parks as we allowed Clover to do a modeling job. I say allowed as if she asked. It wasn't for money and was for an outerwear company that meant the kids got to play in the woods with a photographer (the picture is from before the shoot). Still, I feel like Dina Lohan. I think this will be the end before I become the next obnoxious stage parent on one of those Bravo shows.

After our big show business morning, we hit up Daiso in search of the Japanese erasers that are becoming all the rage around here. Clover got a sushi eraser set from their limited selection, but we picked out a lot of fun paper, especially when I saw this note pad with the bottom line that made the trip totally worth it:

Rocket got an inflatable baseball bat that is longer than he is tall and he immediately morphed into Bam Bam, hitting everything with it, but he did not hit anyone in the eye, which I think is the warning from the package.

I love Japanese dollar stores!

Mortified, Cringe, All That

I've always wanted to attend one of Sarah Brown's Cringe nights - hell, I could perform if my parents saved any of my old diaries - because I've done many cringe-worthy things. Just thinking about the things I wrote in junior high yearbooks about my love for Michael Jackson makes my stomach hurt.

We arrived at Rocket's swim lesson a few minutes early this morning. I wear my suit there and change him just before getting into the pool because I am paranoid he will pee all over me if I change him sooner. We did that today and sat down on our towels before class began. Class went as usual where somehow I end up totally soaked, with dripping hair and face, while all the other parents still look reasonable. As we picked up our towels, I noticed mine had a red mark. Please let this be old, I thought. We high tailed it into the changing room where I confirmed that my time of the month came early and without warning (overlooking the giant pimple on my face), which means I'd been swimming around possibly with a red cloud trailing me. I was so embarrassed and grossed out about being in the pool in that state, I feel like I am back in seventh grade. I know we are supposed to report if our child poops or vomits in the pool, but this type of event is not covered in the rules. Am I the only mom suffering from surprise period? I thought as Rocket got his hand stamped on the way out, I could casually toss out "Oh yeah, I kind of leaked in your pool. Have a good day!" But, I couldn't bring myself to report my problem. I just wanted to get home as fast as possible. I cannot wait until Rocket is old enough to graduate from the Mommy and Me class. This does explain my mad chocolate cravings though.

Happy Earth Day!

Clover's class acted out a telling of the Lakota (Sioux) story of Earth's creation for her school this morning. Clover - along with two friends - dressed in white, representing air. Clover rarely wears white to school and you can see why from the dirt on her skirt after being at school for only an hour. The story is from the book Keepers of the Earth and was narrated by a retired pediatrician who volunteers in Clover's class. The story, as it was narrated, goes:

The Lakota people say that in the beginning everything was in the mind of Wakan-Tanka. All things which were to be existed only as spirits. Those spirits moved about in space seeking a place to manifest themselves. They traveled until they reached the sun, but it was not a good place for creation to begin because it was too hot. Finally, they came to Earth, which was without life and covered with the great waters. There was no dry land at all for life to begin. But then, out of the waters a great burning rock rose up. It made the dry land appear and the clouds formed from the steam it created. Then the life on the Earth could begin. So it is that the rock is called Tunka-shila, Grandfather Rock, for it is the oldest one. Because of that, the rocks must be respected. In the sweat lodge, when the water strikes the heated stones and the mist rises once again, it brings back the moment of creation as the people in the lodge sing to Tunka-shila, the grandfather, the old one.

After the class portion was finished, the music teacher led everyone around the big field to dance and sing songs to the Earth. At this point Rocket began melting down. I would say he is tired, but the meltdown timing and his newfound deep love for money makes me wonder if he's a Republican.

Plan A Was Much Better

Plan A was Much Better

Clover was kind of lethargic over the weekend which led me to decide on Sunday night to keep her home from school Monday to ensure she was healthy for the big hippie Earth Day celebration at school on Tuesday. I began to look forward to keeping her home, thinking it would be like a weekend extension for me, especially because she'd be so tired, she's spend her time resting and reading and not fighting with Rocket or bothering me. I almost slept in this morning as phase one of my plan, but I got up to check on Clover, who was wide awake, full of energy and ready to go to school. With a long sigh, I got ready and slipped into our regular school day routine, including rushing both kids into the car to try to get to school using the last 10 minutes of the carpool lane on the freeway, but then came the snag: my car would not start. My car is four years old and I've never had a problem until today and since the issue was totally unexpected, I felt panicky. I grabbed the kids out of the car and ran them back up to the house and into the bathroom where Kevin was showering to tell him. He jumped out, but by that time my brain was beginning to function again, so we came up with a plan that involved me taking Clover to school in Kevin's car, which looks lived in by a homeless man and his cat (the amount of dog hair is ridiculous. I think this car has seen a vacuum once. Plus it has a jumbo box from Costco of Frito-Lay Grab Bags on the passenger seat. Oddly enough, his car smells better than mine, which is reminiscent of the end of the day at a taqueria in a Spring Break destination town.)

It ends up the battery is dying, which gave my car some power, but not enough to start, which is really the easiest, least expensive possible problem. Rocket got to see a tow truck up close, making this a great day for him. My day is back on track, but I still wish I stayed in bed.
Clover was kind of lethargic over the weekend which led me to decide on Sunday night to keep her home from school Monday to ensure she was healthy for the big hippie Earth Day celebration at school on Tuesday. I began to look forward to keeping her home, thinking it would be like a weekend extension for me, especially because she'd be so tired, she's spend her time resting and reading and not fighting with Rocket or bothering me. I almost slept in this morning as phase one of my plan, but I got up to check on Clover, who was wide awake, full of energy and ready to go to school. With a long sigh, I got ready and slipped into our regular school day routine, including rushing both kids into the car to try to get to school using the last 10 minutes of the carpool lane on the freeway, but then came the snag: my car would not start. My car is four years old and I've never had a problem until today and since the issue was totally unexpected, I felt panicky. I grabbed the kids out of the car and ran them back up to the house and into the bathroom where Kevin was showering to tell him. He jumped out, but by that time my brain was beginning to function again, so we came up with a plan that involved me taking Clover to school in Kevin's car, which looks lived in by a homeless man and his cat (the amount of dog hair is ridiculous. I think this car has seen a vacuum once. Plus it has a jumbo box from Costco of Frito-Lay Grab Bags on the passenger seat. Oddly enough, his car smells better than mine, which is reminiscent of the end of the day at a taqueria in a Spring Break destination town.)

It ends up the battery is dying, which gave my car some power, but not enough to start, which is really the easiest, least expensive possible problem. Rocket got to see a tow truck up close, making this a great day for him. My day is back on track, but I still wish I stayed in bed.

30 Seconds of Driving to School

Rocket: Mama?
Me: Yes Rocket?
Rocket: Baybee woof woof!
Me: Oh a puppy? Did you see a puppy?
Rocket: (vigorous head nods)

one second later
Rocket: Mama!
Me: Yes Rock?
Rocket: Bayyybeee doggie!
Me: Yes, that's what a puppy is, a baby doggie. Is that what you meant?
Rocket: (vigorous head nods)

brief pause
Rocket: Mama!
Me: Yes?!
Rocket: Baybee doggie!
Me: Yes...
Rocket: TRUCK! Mama, truck!

If not this, then he is doing his running inventory of the vehicles we pass: "cah, cah, truck, cah, truck, cement mizzer, cah..."

I buy the big bottle of Advil at Costco. Some weeks it feels like Friday is never going to come.

For You. Yes You!

Today has been dubbed reader appreciation day and in appreciation, here is what I got you:

They may be a week old and actually from my husband to me, but regifting isn't always bad. My second gift is just as lovely: more random information about me, but this time in an almost-list, meme format! Woo hoo!

I was tagged by my friend Suzy at Pris Place, but I'm not going to tag anyone else, allowing me to maintain my perfect record of not forwarding these type of things on that goes back to grade school when I received my first chain letter. Did one of those old chain letters cite the drummer from Def Leppard losing his arm or am I totally misremembering? Here goes:

1. I hoard gift cards. We have a large stash of cards because I always forget to use them and I cannot keep them in my wallet because Rocket frequently dumps and hides the contents. Credit cards can be replaced, but not gift cards.
2. During the summer before seventh grade, I cut a spike in my hair, which to those who missed the 80s, was a spiked up line of short hair down the center part of my hair. Kind of a mini mohawk and kind of a lame idea. Actually, it was a fully lame idea, especially when I added the peroxide.
3. I keep a journal for each of my kids in lieu of a baby book. When Clover was young, I updated almost every day. Now I update once a month, if I am lucky.
4. I hate all nuts other than peanuts.
5. Tote bags have become my latest obsession. I cannot explain it, but I love them.
6. I've been to Graceland.
7. Almost all perfumes give me a migraine.

If you're let down by the appreciation gifts, I'm sorry and I can empathize. Last week Kevin told me he ordered me a gift, but it was a surprise. I had no idea what it could be and this isn't something he normally does, so I had little frame of reference. I bought another Tub Trug yesterday - like the totes, I'm obsessed with the trugs  - but before I did, I asked Kevin if that is what he bought me. "No, it is much better than a Tub Trug." This is huge because I love my trugs and he knows that. Suddenly I was thinking that despite my protests, he bought me an iPhone. I was so happy that he was finally getting it and me after I've been talking to him about feeling unappreciated and how I don't get positive feedback about my "job performance," but now he got it and was showing his appreciation. He spilled the beans on the gift last night: 1 GB of additional memory for my computer! Wooo hoo? I'm reminding myself that this is how a computer nerd (not meant disparagingly) shows his love, through faster processing.

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, Off to School She Goes

We survived Spring Break. As we used to say when I worked at the Alzheimer's Association, "Nobody died, nobody went to the hospital" when trying to keep a tough time in perspective (the funny thing is that even though this was adopted from an adult care facility, I worked in an office that did not deal directly with Alzheimer's patients).

I was able to have a minute to myself Sunday morning, which is supposed to be a regular weekend thing - coffee and a few quiet moments to read the news - but it doesn't always happen. Of course there are many days like Saturday when we or I am up and out the door and there is no time, but then there are days like Sunday when the people I live with seem to forget how important this time is to me. It was quiet for a few minutes, but then Rocket walked over to me excitedly saying "Mama!" as he held out one of our Advent stockings and my scissors. After I took them away from him, we both went looking for Kevin, who was supposed to be watching the kids. A few minutes later I decided to check up again on Rocket because I had a feeling he was again unsupervised and I was right. This time he was filling up the cap of my shaving cream with water and dumping it over his head. I wish I could say I counted to 10, calmed down and quietly explained to Kevin that I needed him to really watch Rocket while I have a moment of peace, but while that is what I intended, it may have come out as more of a yell. That possibly could have been heard by the neighbors.

After going with Clover to a birthday party, we made salsa and guacamole and watched the Red Sox. Spring Break was finally over.

Cluck! Cluck! Cluck! Cluck!

We've made it to Thursday of Spring Break, which almost comes as a surprise to me. We've had a few ups, outweighed by many downs. I had to be on an hour long phone call today and when I got off the phone, it looked like our house had been burglarized. Lunch was knocked over and being eaten by the dog, a bag's worth of cotton balls (?) covered a hallway floor, the potty chair was in Rocket's room upside down, Monopoly houses were thrown across the floor, looking like a post tornado scene and about two thousand stuffed animals were scattered. I had to struggle to follow the call as Chicken Dance Elmo clucked on and on, Rocket kept yelling "MAMA! POOP!" while holding something that Clover made in clay class that really does look like painted and glazed poop, so I did understand his confusion and then finally Rocket wanted me to pour Gatorade into my empty Diet Coke bottle for him to drink and the crazy thing is that I did it, only about an ounce, because I really needed him to shut up. I eventually went into my bedroom and locked the door.

Yesterday when I was fighting a migraine and started to win, Rocket kept pressing the button on Chicken Dance Elmo's foot, making it start it's brain piercing chicken dance again. I took four more Advil which stopped the headache, but cannot erase the Elmo (or "Melmo," as Rocket calls him) noise from the loop that keeps playing in my head.

I wonder what would happen tomorrow if I stayed in my room the whole time and let them have at the house. It sounds really tempting. I could stay there until my special "End of Spring Break" closing ceremonies where I am going to take Chicken Dance Elmo out front with a baseball bat and tee off on his head.