be warned

When you are out and about anywhere in the Central Valley and you happen to see this beautiful child,

DON’T...I repeat, DO NOT call her a boy. She is going to throw some serious shade your way and will call you out.

But I’m a girl, Mom!, she loudly proclaims as you pass by.

BURN!

Seriously people! A ruffled blouse, jeggings, pink loafers with glitter?!

Oh well! Random strangers can say the stupidest things, I guess.

I’m sorry, Fallon. For what it’s worth, your mommy and aunties often were mistaken for adorable boys too…even when they were three years old and sometimes wearing the most feminine of dresses.. Except for Abby. For some reason, your Auntie Abby was rarely mistaken as a little boy. Abby had curly eyelashes and everyone knows little girls have curly eyelashes. Then again, Daniel has curly eyelashes too…and people often commented that he was a beautiful baby girl. Yeah, random strangers make stupid observations sometimes.

You keep giving them the side eye, fancy girl.

 

 

videotaping and photography is strictly prohibited

At most dance competitions this is the norm and, unlike SOME parents, I respect the rule. It really is for the privacy and protection of our children. Thankfully professional videos and photographs are available at the venues for us to purchase. Sometimes they are even kind of affordable like at this weekend’s competition.

Um…

Yeah, I paid for this picture.

How could I not?

JoAnn summed it up perfectly saying you can tell that all her hard work has paid off with this picture right here. Thankfully, that shot (and the fact that I paid for it) was the only fail of the weekend.

There was nothing but platinums at the end of this Rainbow Dance Competition for my favorite Dance Star.

 

the inconvenience of awesome

Aw, growth spurts! So much fun…said no parent who JUST bought their kid those out-grown athletic shoes or three pairs of must-have skinny jeans ever.

When I was a girl I discovered just how awful growth spurts could be as in Mommy-Dearest just bought me those shoes or those pants or just let out the hem of those dresses and pantsuits (we wore pantsuits back in the day, don’t judge) with no more material left to hem. She’d be frustrated and angry that I was growing like a weed and I would feel bad because I clearly should have better control of this growing thing…at least that was my perspective as a 12 year old kid not understanding the inconvenience of your kid growing like a weed when there are bills to pay and groceries to buy to feed your ravenous, growing weed.

Then I became a mother; a mother of kids that grew and grew like weeds. Often growing like crazy at the most inconvenient of times like when I had bills to pay or groceries to buy to feed those ravenous little weeds of mine.

I could not seem to keep Zoë in jeans that were soon too small or impossibly too short literally a month after I bought them. And replacing Jodie’s split sole, black tap shoes that were scarcely worn for only two dance competitions really sucked sometimes as did emergency alterations of custom made costumes that were custom made to allow for grow room.  I mean…how rude…how inconvenient…these kids are growing much too fast!

And then I understood.

Oh.

So now that Spring has really sprung, Daniel is ready to break out the shorts. But the shorts are much, much too small. Two sizes too small. Shorts he has worn for the last two years of Spring and Summer…perhaps more. Shorts that are clearly much, much too small.

Oh happy day!!!

Human growth hormones, I love you so much…except for the fact that this is a helluva time for the kid to have outgrown his clothes because there are bills to pay…too many bills…and these kids seem to be hungry all the time…especially that kid who is finally GROWING!!!

So inconvenient but so freaking awesome!!!

Don’t worry, the mom of the 8 year old who apparently is wearing shorts two sizes bigger than Daniel’s new shorts tempered my excitement and frustration by pointing out the fact that her 8 year old is two sizes bigger than my 12 year old….as moms of kids who are not growth hormone deficient do.

Thanks!

Us moms of kids well below the growth curve their entire life, with non-functioning pituitary glands, love to hear about the burden of your overgrown child. It’s so…encouraging. Thanks.

Still, it is pretty damn awesome to pack away forever the shorts your son has worn every Spring, Summer and Fall season since second grade as his fifth grade year is winding down because this is normal. This is what “normal” parents do with their kids as they grow. This is just more “normal” for us to celebrate as parents of this mighty, former micro-preemie of ours, as parents of micro-preemies do…celebrating the normal.

So damn awesome!

Now to figure out what Peter to rob to pay Paul for the new shorts, the shorts that fit. Hey, at least they were on sale!

 

 

the waiting

And the question on Facebitch, er, Facebook today is: how many people will you get behind in the drive thru at Starbuck’s instead of parking and going in?

We all been there at one time or another. We all have found ourselves stuck in what seems to us to be an ENDLESS line in a drive-thru.

OMG! The waiting! It just might kill some of us I am sure…like my facebitching friend.

So do you have a limit? Three cars? Six? Twelve?

On Facebook it would seem that six is just too much…and fodder for judge-y shaking of one’s head as they park their car and get out to go inside to get their latte. Twelve or more is just absolutely, positively ridiculous. Ain’t no one got time for that.

Right?!

But then again parking and getting out with two or maybe three or, oh dear god, FIVE kids to go inside might give one pause; especially if kids in car seats are involved. It also will guarantee that the family-size police will jump all over that…extra points when it is the vice principal of one your kids’ schools because he’s like the captain of the family-size police.

Or perhaps the weather outside is frightful and the seat warmer in your car is so delightful.

Maybe you just finished a 5 mile run and , well, you’d rather not share that sweaty, stinky, hot messiness with anyone…that is if you sweat so bad running five miles or more that you look like a salt lick. It’s a public service you are performing. You are welcome Starbucks’ customers!

You just might be THAT mom who drops the kids off at school while you are STILL in your jammies. No one needs to see that…except your favorite barista. Y’all know they can see all of you in the car as they hand you your order? The former baristas I birthed have told me stories. Oh dear glob! And my favorite barista loves to tease me when I do manage to put on clothes.

Oh, and then there is  my favorite barista. He handles that twelve-plus car line like nobody’s business while the counter guy is still trying to figure out how to spell your name on the damn cup. Just in case you were wondering, counter guy never spells my name right. But my favorite barista knows what my favorite drinks are and will often just ask if I want it hot or cold. I pull up to the window and it is there ready for me. Counter guy, on the other hand, would be asking me to repeat my drink order to him…for the third time…because a non-fat white mocha, no whip, two pumps raspberry can so freakin’ complicated.

Then there are the times where I just enjoy sitting in the long drive thru line. I have come to appreciate the time in the line to just be still, not be in such a hurry and to just get lost in my quiet thoughts and meditations.

I’m thankful for the waiting sometimes.

Bonus when everyone is paying it forward…okay except when the guy behind me ordered four drinks and pastries.

 

 

things that don’t go together

A weekend in a hotel for the Hollywood Vibe Dance Convention and Competition and YOU have to study and take the online portion of your Neonatal Resuscitation Program renewal test. Doesn’t that sound like a workable thing? Oh, I forgot, you are bringing along your 12 year old boy because your darling husband is working through the weekend. You know, the sweet boy of yours with sensory processing issues? Don’t forget that your grandgirl, who also dances, will be there for part of the weekend too.

No! YOU thought this would be totally easy and doable.

Of course you did. Until you got there at the hotel…where the dance convention is being held…crowded with lots of other families from lots of other dance studios there…with lots and lots of very excited kids because OMG!!! Kent Boyd is here too!!!! A lot of dance moms were overly excited too. Still, you imagine this will be doable. The kids will be in dance classes from 7:30 AM until well into the afternoon and then they dance competitively through the night until around midnight all weekend long. You’ll have time for sure you tell yourself.

Heh!

Did you forget the son you brought along?

But there’s a pool. He can swim. He has video games. He can keep himself entertained while you are studying and logging on to take that 9 part test. He’s a good boy. Your husband will be picking him up Saturday afternoon. You end up repeating that last sentence over and over again because he is a 12 year old boy and the last thing he wants to do is entertain himself. Your husband will be picking him up Saturday afternoon…

Did I forget to tell you that there is a hockey tournament happening here too and there are all kinds of hockey teams here with hockey players the same ages as all those dancers? Oh, and with hockey teams come hockey parents. Hockey parents who are more than okay with letting their kids play hockey IN THE HOTEL ROOM NEXT TO YOURS in the evening…until you asked them not to because it sounded like someone was being murdered in the next room which distracted you from studying and REALLY stressed out your 12 year old…the one with sensory processing issues. Apparently hockey dad didn’t think this was a problem until you told him that you thought that it might be…so he sends the kids out into the hall to play hockey. Yes. Because apparently on every floor there are kids playing hockey. They are also playing hockey in the hotel lobby too while their parents are doing celebratory shots Saturday night because their kids won the tourney.

YEAH Junior Kings!!!

Did I forget to tell you that the Internet connection is very spotty? The Internet connection you have to pay for because of course this hotel isn’t going to offer complimentary wi-fi to their guests.

So the connection keeps dropping while you are taking your test. There are hockey games, loud hockey games happening everywhere. Your son wants to go back to the pool an hour after he decided that he was tired of swimming but can’t possibly wear the swim trunks he wore because he wore them and they are wet. Any parent with a kid on the Spectrum gets that. If you don’t get that all I can say is, I’m sorry. Your grandgirl is REALLY upset because she can’t go swimming because her day is filled with dance classes and dance competition. You’re very thankful that your dancer is old enough to get herself to and from her dance classes but there are still the dances she is dancing in…and the grandgirl is dancing in. What kind of dance mom/mima would you be if you didn’t watch these kids dance?

You know what? None of this mixes well together at all.

Not.

At.

All.

So the next time you find yourself in hotel with your kids for a dance convention and there are also lots of hockey teams there too with hockey kids and hockey parents and you have work you must do for work that requires Internet access DON’T DO IT!!!

Just don’t.

Dance convention and competition is enough. It really is.

I know that my dancers think so. Hang in there girls…only five more hours to go then we go home.

YEAH!

Excuse me, I have to get back to trying to take my test before the wi-fi cuts out again.