Blah blah blah...

School's out for summer. I have a freshly minted middle schooler (with the attitude to match, at least most days) and a sweet-but-strangely-cynical second grader...and not a hell of a lot else going on. We have reached the time of year that, historically, it takes everything I have just to endure, for a number of reasons. First, I find the heat and humidity of an Oklahoma summer to be extremely oppressive. Second, although it seems the opposite would be true, I hear less from my favorite people during this stretch...my amazing friends are scattered about traveling, and texts and phone calls drop off sharply...which I know means that they're probably having a great time, but still feels remarkably like abandonment at times. Third, my job tends to become e-x-c-r-u-c-i-a-t-i-n-g-l-y slow during the summer months. And finally, although this is exclusive to this summer, neither Tina Fey nor Lorne Michaels have come calling, and hits to this blog have dropped from 40-50 per day to--oh, about 6. I'm guessing none of you are scouting for either one of those people, but who the hell really knows?

What, then, is a girl such as myself supposed to do? I ask you--all six of you. How can I make this part go faster? How do I get past the unsettled feeling of having nothing to do and no one who's looking for me?

Bragging rights!

Yeah, yeah, I know...no one likes the parents who shove their kids' every accomplishment in the face of their friends...but forgive me this time, I had to do it! So stinking proud of her! (Plus, I missed the live version, as Sara's dance recital began a scant 30 minutes later and was 20 miles away...clearly I'm dealing with some residual guilt.) Love my girls! :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zCf0Jn5iJYU

Sara Logic 101

This afternoon, I attended Emily's fifth-grade graduation, which, I admit, was a little surreal. The program was sweet, and Emily was recognized for several accomplishments over the past year. After the program, the Northern Hills Elementary senior class made its way to UCO for the Fifth Grade Field Games. It was still 25 minutes early, but I went ahead and checked Sara out and took her home for a little one-on-one time. Lately, Emily is involved in so much, I feel like Sara has been lost in the shuffle sometimes.

I fixed her some popcorn and poured her an apple juice. We played Sorry and Connect Four and had the house to ourselves for a couple of hours, and it was fabulous. At one point, I caught her wiping her hands off on her shirt, and I reminded her to go get a napkin for the umpteenth time. At this, she raised an eyebrow. "You know, I'd rather have dirty clothes than be responsible for death," she said matter-of-factly, shrugging her shoulders.

I stared. "I beg your pardon?"

She sighed, clearly exasperated. "Well, I think it's much better to get my clothes messy than to waste a paper napkin. A tree had to die to make that napkin, and trees produce oxygen. By using a paper napkin, I'm not only killing the tree, I'm taking someone's oxygen," she explained patiently. I could see the wheels turning. That Mommy, she can be awfully slow on the uptake sometimes...

I opened my mouth to say something, and realized I couldn't exactly argue with her logic...partly because I was speechless. Score: Fifteen-love, advantage Sara.

True Colors...

Sometimes, in spite of your best intentions, your carefully assembled existence will go careening off the rails in the wrong direction, and a detour to Shitsville is inevitable. If this has never happened to you, I offer my congratulations...and I sincerely hope you never have to go. However, I recently spent over a year there, and I can say without hesitation that it blows. And while I don't ever care to return, there are some blessings that have come of it. I have learned who my real friends are, and a few people surprised me by showing their love and support in ways that I had never seen, and in some cases didn't know that I had. Of course, the flip side of that is that I had to discover that one or two people that I really believed in didn't have my back at the end of the day.

To those of you that hung in there with me (and you know who you are), I can never begin to express my gratitude. Even though you may not have understood, you stood by me and loved me without question or judgement. That kindness will stay with me always, and while I suppose it would be nice to be able to repay it one day, I hope you never have to go through what I did in order for me to do so. I hope you know I will always consider you family.

To the ones who didn't, it's your loss. I'm in a far better place than I've ever been, and you're missing out on the best of me!

Love my people! Thank you all! :)

Life With Sara...

I keep meaning to tell my seven-year-old that she's only seven...that she is not, in fact, a thirtysomething divorcee living in New York with a cat and an attitude that comes from working too many nights as a cocktail waitress while she tries to sell her novel. But I have a hunch she wouldn't believe me, even if I told her...and that's okay, because she's been this way since birth, and I wouldn't know what the hell to do if she suddenly started acting like an actual first grader...

Sara perfected the eye roll at the astonishingly young age of 18 months. She is NOBODY'S fool. She knows what she wants, and she sets out to get it. When she decided she wanted her ears pierced at 3, I explained how it was done and that it would hurt. She was undeterred, and she sat still and didn't shed a tear as they did first one ear, and then the other. "Now, give me a mirror," she instructed matter-of-factly after the second earring was in place.

Tonight, she was relaying an exchange with a classmate at school. "My friend Laura's parents are looking for a bigger house, one with at least four bedrooms," she tells us. "I told her that MY parents are renovating a house to flip and that I'd make them a good deal."

On second thought, maybe she won't have trouble selling that novel, after all...

3 months old and thoroughly unimpressed...

 My girl today!

Babypalooza!

Two of my closest friends have been blessed with beautiful baby girls in the past week. It's funny...they were due 4 weeks apart, and instead, their babies were born 4 days apart. I don't get to bring home any more baby girls, but I'm happy to watch the people I love getting to know their daughters. It's hard to believe that I was there once upon a time...sort of. Lisa and Shana are a little older and a whole lot wiser than I was at 23 when I hatched Emily. I still vividly recall being handed my firstborn in the hospital and bursting into helpless tears. "I don't know what to do!" I wailed to the dumbstruck nurse, who finally recovered and assured me I would get the hang of it...and I did eventually gain a measure of confidence--which promptly flew out the window when I realized both kids were much smarter than I am.

I am confident that Shana and Lisa will get the hang of it much faster than I did...Lisa already has a sweet little boy at home. And I realize they'll get more than enough unsolicited advice, but this is my blog, so here is mine:

1) Don't rush. It seems like yesterday that I was in your shoes, nursing a baby through many a sleepless night, and now I'm buying bras and going to middle school parent orientation night. While I don't exactly miss those days, I won't get them back, just like I won't get these back...as much as I'm tempted to hurry Emily through adolescence, and just get it over with, already.

2) Love her! Tell them--and show them--often! And that doesn't just mean lots of hugs and kisses. Set boundaries. Remember that you're her mother, not her friend. That's not to say that you can't break it down to the Black Eyed Peas together in the kitchen or let her play with your makeup and heels. It just means that when she refuses to eat her vegetables, you have to convince her that you know what's best for her. (Because you do!) Your job is to teach her how to live in the real world, where not everything is exactly how you want it...and while you can't begin to imagine it now, eventually you're going to want her to move out of your house and live in that world.

3) Stay Calm. If you freak out, I can promise you, she will, too. Don't micromanage, and don't get hung up on things that aren't important. If she wants to wear a Cinderella ball gown every day for more than a year, let her. Who knows, you may have one of Broadway's biggest stars on your hands!

4) Let Her Make Mistakes. If you don't, she won't learn how to fix them. Just be ready to help her figure it out if she asks for your advice. (How do you get her to ask your advice? See above.)

Shana and Lisa, you are in for the adventure of a lifetime! Enjoy every step, and let me come along and play from time to time! :)

Teacher Appreciation..and a bit of Parental Desperation...

I asked the girls to write letters to their teachers for Teacher Appreciation Week. They found some decorative note paper and went to work. Sara produced the following draft for her teacher:

Dear Mrs. Evans:

I feel like I've really blossomed this year in your class. First grade is my favorite so far and my favorite part about it is you!

Love, Sara


Her sweetness touched me, and her choice of verbiage made me smile. She more than made up for her sister, who rolled her eyes at my suggestion, sighed often during her composition, then refused to let me read anything she wrote. I imagine it to say something like:

Dear Mrs. R:

My mother is making me write you a letter of appreciation, because she is ridiculous. But whatever, you've been a pretty nice teacher, and fifth grade hasn't been altogether lame. Thanks and have a great summer.

Em

Tomorrow is Parent Orientation at the middle school she'll be attending next year. Of course I want to know all about the school's dress code and severe weather policies, but I wonder if they will hand out some sort of Survival Guide for Mothers of Preteen Girls. At the very least, a list of appropriately witty, sarcastic responses should be given out, along with some situational guidelines...perhaps a flow chart.  Hmmmmm....I think I smell a project....

Touche...

Yesterday, I let Emily get feather extensions in her hair...she is now adorned with 6 thin rooster-tail plumes in fuschia, black, and white that peek out from the front of her shoulder-length bob, which can be blow-dried, straightened, or curled right along with her real hair. She's been asking for them for weeks, even offering to pay for them herself at one point--and so, today, as a reward for her hard work in preparing for Thursday night's Academic Bowl competition, I obliged her request. I stood by silently as she considered--and, mercifully, discarded--a neon green ensemble that made my eyes hurt. After a lengthy period of consideration, she settled on the fuschia striped bundle, and ten minutes later, she emerged from JC's Funky Hair Ranch a new woman.

This morning, after she'd showered and dried her hair, I asked her how her new accessories were holding up. Her response? "Very well, I think!" I smiled at this, and told her that I loved that she knew when to use "well" as opposed to "good." At this, she rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated with me. "Mom, I'm eleven, for crying out loud!" I laughed, explaining that there were plenty of adults who didn't know which word was appropriate, to which she replied:

"Yeah? And how many of THEM have YOU for a mother?"

Keeping Vigil...with a smile!

Last night, we went to the Easter Vigil, as has become our custom. I love the candlelight liturgy from beginning to end...the readings and the music, and the moment when, after the baptismal covenant, the priest announces He is risen! and the darkness is replaced by the sanctuary lights blazing forth. It is a solemn affair, more formal than our usual relaxed, contemporary Sunday Mass...but I love it. And I like the kids being exposed to traditional services sometimes, too, because while I understand the need for the casual, relaxed atmosphere that has prevailed in most 21st century churches, I don't want them to think of their relationship with God as something to be taken lightly.

The Easter Mass begins at 8:30, and usually takes about 2-2.5 hours, depending on the number of baptisms taking place. When we arrived last night, we learned that there were no acolytes on hand, so Emily quickly threw on a robe and Brian acted as Beadle, so they were sitting up front together after their procession, while Sara and I were seated with the rest of the congregation, towards the middle on the right. Sara held out her candle to be lit by the Paschal candle during the procession, and proudly held it very still...right up to the moment when her head dropped back against the back of pew and she fell asleep. I took the candle from her little hand and blew it out, and continued with the service, figuring I could wake her for the Eucharist.

Then she began to snore. We're talking seriously snore. Sara's bedroom is the furthest one from the living room of our 2400 square foot house, and we still sometimes have to turn up the tv if she's in bed, even if her door is closed. My tiny little blonde can put most grown men to shame with the sheer volume she emits. Such was the case last night. I startled a bit when I heard her, in the middle of a reading, and as the people surrounding us began to smile and nudge one another, I leaned down and tried to wake her by patting her cheek and whispering her name. This only caused her to turn her head to the side and mutter a few unintelligible sounds mid-snore before resuming at an even louder volume, which our neighboring parishioners found utterly hilarious. The guttural sounds continued throughout the Gospel reading and baptismal covenant. When the lights came on, she opened her eyes for a moment and laid down on her side in the pew, finally silencing the snores. During the passing of the Peace, the little old lady immediately in front of me, who had remained stoic throughout, turned and grinned at me, and said, "now that girl knows how to sleep!" Several others came up to see the source of the racket, laughing at the sight of the dainty little girl in her Easter dress drooling all over the pew.

So, in the end, the beautiful liturgy was still beautiful, and the little girl in her Easter dress snoring like someone's grandpa was also beautiful...and funny...and a good reminder that children are simply the sign of a Living Church, even a traditional one. Happy Easter!

I am not Tina Fey...but I want to be...

Desperately, really...I just downloaded her book, and am now considering stalking her a little. Or a lot. I don't know...surely, if she just met me and hung out with me once or twice--or allowed me to speak to her for a few minutes as the security guards are leading me away in handcuffs--she would recognize my own comic genius and want to be my BFF...which, of course, would lead to a writing gig on 30 Rock. Or perhaps she would introduce me to Lorne Michaels, and I could become a writer for SNL...because, let's face it, that show has nowhere to go but UP right now. (No offense to Kristin Wiig, as you are truly, madly, ridiculously, wet-your-pants hilarious...but honey, you really are doing virtually all the heavy lifting there, you know? Well, you and Seth...) Speaking of, once my position on SNL is secured, I can flirt wildly with Seth Meyers as much as I like...because it's not as if it'll ever get me anywhere, seeing as how I'm ME and he's Seth Meyers...who, although adorably dimpled, rich, and funny as hell, is single at 37 and never seems to be dating anyone. Hmmmmmm...I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that it's not because he's waiting for ME.

Now, don't worry, once I'm a famous writer, I won't forget my people! I hope you will all visit me in New York often...okay, well, maybe not ALL of you...but most of you, I'll want to keep. Then the Thursday Girls can have brunch with Tina and Kristin Wiig...maybe Chelsea Handler can join us if she's in town, too. And E can come along to brunch, because he's the only one I know who appreciates a good Bloody Mary as much as I do...and Shana can come for some amazing shopping, and Bethie and I can hit The Great White Way, and.....

SHIT. Sorry...got lost for a second...rest assured, I am still sitting in my windowless office entering accounts payable invoices--just until the earth stops spinning--if anyone needs me...

Nightwatch

Sara weighs 49 pounds and is 49 inches tall right now. That's a smallish 7-year-old, especially when you consider her hair accounts for at least a few pounds...but her personality is so BIG that people seldom notice...she is fearless, and she is one of the funniest people I've ever met. She has trash talk down to an art form, refers to her 35-year-old daddy as "my old man" and has a flair for the ridiculous. Last year her list to Santa included 3 items: a million dollars, her own planet, and new socks. A few months ago, she came to me and asked, "Hey, Mom, can we lose these training wheels already?" After we took them off, she refused all offers of assistance, and simply took off down the street alongside her sister. That's Classic Sara.

She never really seems small to me. But I have to say, right now, as I'm listening to her having to work to breathe in her sleep, she seems pretty tiny...in spite of the fact that she is taking up 85% of my queen-sized mattress, and she seems to be most comfortable draped across me like a blanket, with her head smashing my left boob and her arm flung across my face. I'll take that gladly, as long as she gets some rest and I get some peace of mind...but what I would REALLY love is some rain that might actually bring her some relief from this little asthma/allergy hell. Don't get me wrong, she doesn't complain much. She's a trouper, but me? Not so much...

And so, to review...

Obviously, I had a hell of a week. I'm relieved to say it DID somewhat improve...on Friday, I took my Girl Scouts for self-defense lessons, and proudly watched my 88-lb daughter throw an adult to the ground...not only that, but the adult in question has about 60 pounds on her and is solid muscle! All the girls did really well, and I'm told that some of them promptly went home and began practicing on their siblings. (Sorry about that.) Miss Ashley was amazing with them! Suddenly Emily's heartfelt campaign to walk to school next year holds a little more promise...not that I'm going to tell her that...yet!

Yesterday, we took the girls to the Red-White game in Norman. The weather was fabulous, and I have to say, it's a rare treat to only have about 30,000 in the stands. You can actually let your child walk a few feet away from you without wigging out. I even let the girls go down and sit on the steps that lead down to the field, so they could get close to the action. Sara was having a hard time grasping the concept of a scrimmage, and kept asking who we were playing against...but they enjoyed being outside, not to mention a never-before-seen spring serving of Stadium Nachos, complete with extra radioactive-yellow cheese product.

A good weekend was made even better by good company, which was in steady supply from Friday morning onward...for this, I am more thankful than I can describe. And the best news yet? Today is Sunday, and we ALL get a do-over every seven days...and so far, it's off to a pretty good start!