And We're Off

The Child has been on break for two weeks, me for one. Today everything gets back to the other normal...early rising, the trip into school and then off to work. I'm thankful that I love my job; makes the leaving behind of leisure a little less sting-y.

The Child has been doing really well in school this year. Finally. The whole nearly-flunking-out thing shook her up and she's finally determined that both doing AND turning in her homework has merit. She even studies for tests. One of the conditions of her returning to her school was being tested...her counselor wanted to rule out any learning disabilities that could be contributing to her struggles.

This was a fruitful thing. We'd always known she was mildly dyslexic and the psychologist confirmed this. It was also discovered that while she has better than average intelligence the processor in her brain works more slowly. So, for example, she has an excellent grasp of the workings of mathematics but it takes her a long time to compute formulas. Therefore, the gap between her intelligence and her performance is significant enough that she qualifies for certain academic accommodations: more time for tests, audio books are highly recommended and she'll be able to have more time for the SAT. And that first bit, more time for tests, should help her grades even more because this year it's test scores that are bringing down her grades. (Granted, she's getting As and Bs this year but there's been a little sliding in Science and it owes to test scores).

Anynoodle, point is, she is working much harder and performing to her potential and so, after a quarter of academic probation, she was allowed to audition for the spring musical. And landed a small role. (Not a lead but not in the chorus, either. Last year she didn't even make it into the chorus). She's very excited. And I don't know if all this school stuff is part of it or if it's the fact that she is nearly 17 or a combination of the two but she has, all a sudden, become a much more mature young woman. There are fewer and fewer glimpses of the little girl and more and more evidence of the woman she's becoming. Which is delightful and freaky all at once.

Of course, at this present moment she is still lying in bed despite having been called 20 minutes ago and I suspect that the moment I hit "publish" and go to rouse her again there will ensue the classic grumpy teen/irritated mommy routine but still.

Rise and Shine

There are a lot of issues that get people pretty het up these days. But the one that bothers me the most doesn't seem to get any attention from the right, left or center. The silence on this subject is deafening. And to me, offensive. Am I really the only person who thinks that there should be a constitutional amendment preventing school from starting before Labor Day?


The good news? Aside from the fact that Labor Day weekend involved copious amounts of sitting around? This year The Child is taking Zero Hour, an opportunity afforded upperclassmen to take an extra credit of something. That means she can't take the school bus in because she starts at 7am. So I have to drive her in. (Because public transportation would mean that she has to leave the house at, like, 5am and while I am, without question, the worst mother in the world, I'm not going to make her do that). But if she has to get up at 6am then that means I have to get up at 5am. Because mama just ain't happy if she doesn't get some time alone in the house. And staying happy is more important than sleeping in. Yes, I just wrote that.

"Good news?" you say. "How can getting up at 5am for anyone who isn't a farmer or commercial fisherman possibly be good news?"

Well, not only do I get my quiet time, without which I would quickly crumble to dust and blow away, but it means I get to the office at 7:30, a good 30 minutes before my tour starts. "At work a full 30 minutes before you have to be?" says you. "How can that POSSIBLY be good news? Why would you go to work when you don't have to? Who does that?"

Don't you see? Now I can blog from work just like all the cool kids! Who knows? Might even become a habit. Again.

Don't Quit Your Day Job

School has started, with the attendant joys of back-to-school shopping (love me some school supplies) and French onion soup (this year's requested menu by the student in question).

I can't believe The Child is a junior. No, really. She almost wasn't. The end of last year required no small amount of hard, hard work to keep her from flunking out. She pulled that off and went to summer school besides. Only, it turns out, not as much summer school as she needed. That was, on one level, my fault. With all the stuff surrounding Suzanne's death I confused some registration dates. But, as I mentioned to The Child when she attempted to ream me out for this lapse, if she hadn't flunked Algebra we wouldn't be in this mess to begin with. There were meetings and emails and no small amount of worry before she got the go ahead to register. She's making up Algebra in an extra class.

Here's the thing about The Child. She's smart. Plenty smart. She's just not an academician. She really could care less about things, unless she cares about them. (Civil War? Shakespeare? Bring it. Math? Not so much). And her strategy last year, the one that got her into trouble, was to work really hard on big projects and ignore all the little ones. What's 5 points here and there when you get 60 out of 50 on a 10 page paper, right? Wrong. Zeros, she's learned, add up.

She's also come to understand that while she may have every intention of being an actor, she's still going to have to graduate high school, go to college and have some options in life other than "Do you want fries with that?"

Last night, in a rather impressive display of intention, she sat down with me to review every single one of the syllabuses (syllabi?) for her classes. And then she talked about how excited she was about the subject matter ahead and her strategy for staying on top of her work and not letting things slide like she did last year. It was almost as if she finally got it.

Proof will be in the pudding, of course. Let's see what her attitude is like once the work actually begins. But at least she has the right attitude going into this, the sense that she can do this and that good grades are actually something of which she is capable.

Wish us luck. Meanwhile, I'm meeting Chouchou tonight for Bloody Mary dinner, our since-Rainey-went-back-to-work compromise on the traditional Bloody Mary Monday.

Have an Apple

One of these days I'll get around to downloading my pictures from Forks. Mostly, they are pictures of The Child standing if front of Twilight related stuff in Forks. The weather was gorgeous so there were no vampire sitings. Which is just as well.

Forks is a very small town. They only have 3 traffic lights and one of those is a 4-way stop. And it is not a pretty town. It nearly burned down back in the 50s so the rebuilding efforts were all mid-century and without inspiration. You can't even use the phrase "faded elegance" to describe Forks. It is po.dunk. But for The Child it couldn't have been more magical than if we'd been in Paris. And that's all that mattered. She had a blast and I had a blast being with her having a blast.

And now we're back to real life with a vengeance. I hit the ground running at work yesterday (after assuring MAB and the housekeepers that I was not "turned" while I was there). And today is the first day of school. When, btw, did it become acceptable to start school before Labor Day? Whose bright idea was that? August is still summer and it just does not sound right to say "I start school on August 27". Not right at all.

On the other hand, The Child is very excited to go back so there it is. It hit me this morning that, counting today, I only have 3 more mornings of saying, "Time to get up for the first day of school!" Only 3 more mornings of taking the obligatory back-to-school photos in front of her tree. It's crazy because it seems like yesterday that she was starting kindergarten. But I guess it wasn't.

Tonight Sandra and I will have our traditional back-to-school Bloody Marys, plus she's taking us all out to dinner. Then we'll watch "Project Runway". Then there's wedding stuff all weekend.

I need a vacation!

Programming Changes

Very little else is on my mind today other than the fact that "Project Runway", after a long hiatus, is returning to the airwaves tonight. I. Love. Tim. Gunn. When I first see him tonight I may just pee a little. Squeeeee!

I was telling MAB that I didn't think I'd be blogging recaps this year, what with the whole having-a-job thing. Those recaps may look effortless as a little black dress with pearls but I work hard on those suckers, people. It usually took me a couple hours to craft one recap and I just couldn't see gittin' 'er done, especially since the show will be airing at 10pm. When I told her this MAB gave me a look, a look you don't want to see. A look so rich with both disappointment and loathing that it turns your heart to stone.

"What?" she asked, her tones measured but loaded with menace.

"I don't think I can recap the show. There's not enough..."

She held up her hand and shook her head. "No, you WILL recap 'Project Runway' and you will recap it on Friday."

"But I..."

"I said you will recap PR on Friday. You will come in late to work. It is more important that you recap the show than get here at 8".

See why I call her My Awesome Boss? It's not just that she is giving me time to write the recap, it's that she understands the importance of PR in a young woman's life. How much do we love MAB?

That said, what I won't be doing is Friday Videos. And I dunno, I think I've sorta run out on that little franchise anyway. Our programming director thinks we'll still play the occasional video but the feature will definitely be retired until the end of "Project Runway". Priorities, people. Plus, ad revenues are down.

In other news, after work last night I drove The Child down to school to buy her books for the new year. They didn't have any of the texts she needed. Great. I fought traffic to drive 20 miles south and they didn't have her books. But since school is starting and we're veryvery busy, we had to accomplish this task. So we drove all the way back into the city and north to the U District to go to the U bookstore.

They had the required books AND we only needed to buy 3. We got 2 of them used so I was pretty happy as I sauntered up to the checkout stand. The total? 200 plus dollars. WHAT? Are these things printed on? Platinum? What a damn racket. Somebody had better get As and Bs this year. Just sayin'.

And You Thought Never Sleeping Because Your Newborn Cried All the Time was Hard. Pft.

On Friday afternoon The Child got a letter. It was a horrible letter. It basically said that due to her grades and her many discipline referrals she was on the short list of students under consideration to NOT come back to High School.

WHAT?

OK, we knew her grades weren't the best and summer school was a sure thing but how the H does a kid have multiple discipline referrals and this is the first the parents are hearing of it? The Spouse thought it had to be a mistake and intellectually I did, too, but holy hell! The Child was completely beside herself. (Which was the only good thing because it demonstrated how much she loves being at High School. The thought of not going back devastated her). And of course, since the letter came on Friday afternoon there was nothing we could do but stew about it for 2 days. Which I did. I was a nice juicy pot of mom stew by Monday morning. My heart was so heavy and my brain so buzzy I couldn't think to blog about it yesterday.

I called the school and the principal was in a meeting so I left a voice mail that I hoped didn't sound as freaked out as I felt. Then he didn't call back and I couldn't think straight. Plus, the VA has upgraded to Office 2007 and so my computer was buggy as a summer night in the back garden. (Show of hands: how much are we all hating Office 2007? That's what I thought). So I went shopping. Because I get to shop for work and yesterday was a good day for shopping.

I got back to the office and the phone rang and it was the principal, whose first words were, "I'm so sorry; that letter was a mistake". Thanks be to God. I mean, I knew it had to be but those words were some of the sweetest I've ever heard. We talked about the academic plan for The Child and then he emphasized that she is NOT a discipline problem, on the contrary she is a delightful kid. Then he apologized again very profusely.

I've already had friends who've expressed displeasure that such a mistake could be made. "You'd expect that from a public school," they say, "but not a private one where you're paying tons of money for the privilege of being there". Yeah, maybe. Except even people in private schools make mistakes. Tuition is supposed to guarantee a certain quality of education, not that nothing will ever go wrong with a computer. So I hold no grudges. Stuff happens, they made it right and it's all good. And frankly, it provided the sort of wake up call to The Child that no amount of haranguing from her parents could. Grades do matter. Now that she's had a taste of what it would look like if she doesn't shape up, she's determined to do her best next year. Sometimes you have to learn things like that the hard way. She's very sure she never wants to be in a situation where a letter like that could be the real thing.

Cocktails anyone?

Girl Singers

I have shared before about the challenges of The Child's academic career which has been, shall we say, somewhat fraught. I have also waxed philosophic about the parental struggle to inspire her to her own particular brand of greatness, which need not be manifested in a straight A average but which, nonetheless should also amount to more than a shrug and a "So?" because she has to go to summer school. My maternal struggle is not and never has been about scoring one of those nifty "My child is an honor student" bumper stickers but about making sure that The Child leaves this house with the tools she needs to succeed. Tools like self-respect and discipline. And yes, I would enjoy it very much if she was someone who knew how to think and express that thought in intelligent ways.

Anyrant, academic successes being far and few between with her, yesterday was a red letter day. She was invited -by the director- to join the all-girl choir for next year. She had been perfectly content to stay in the anyone-can-join choir that she sang with this year. You don't have to audition to be in the Singers but the director reserves the right to tell you that you are not ready for it. Which is why The Child didn't sign up. She didn't think she was ready. But her teacher does. And she was veryvery happy and veryvery proud.

Here's another girl singer; a lass whose acquaintance I made through Sling a while back. She's quite delightful.







Lisa Hannigan "Lille"

A Few Little Things off a Very Short List

Yesterday I did faithfully execute my duties (teee...I said "duties") so that it won't be total chaos when I get back to my desk on Monday. Poor MAB, though...we have 4 check-ins today. She hates doing check-ins. (I kinda do, too, just because you are always in the middle of something else when people show up (even though we try to keep check-in to a prescribed period)) and have to drop everything and unless the person has been at The House before it takes 30 minutes at least, no matter what you do and then you have to try and remember where you were and what you were doing before the bell rang). But it's always good for her to remember how truly valuable I am. (Which she not only recognizes but generally mentions nearly every day but still).

I also finally got around to emailing some faculty at High School about whether or not there is any future for The Child. Turns out there is. Once again, the biggest culprit in her academic failures is....say it with me...turning in her work. OY! But the point is, she has time to turn things around and the teachers stepped up right away (I forget that teachers appreciate parents who give a damn) and I'm hopeful. It's like I told her this morning, I've given her thousands upon thousands of dollars to take to and turn in at school. She's never lost a check or failed to turn in the money when it's due. If she can understand the value and importance in that instance she is certainly capable of doing the same with her homework. Don'tcha think?

Funny thing, though. When report cards came out 3 weeks ago I emailed her counselor for an appointment. He told me he'd "try to call" but that his schedule wouldn't allow for an appointment for a few weeks. Then I heard nothing. I was a little annoyed but a) I know he's the only counselor for the Freshman class so that's probably a pretty heavy work load and 2) I was too busy to noodge him anyway.

Well, yesterday I decided to skip over him and go to the Dean of Academics, partly because she's one of the two faculty members I've even ever talked to (man, how things have changed) and partly because it was the old "may I speak with your supervisor" strategy. Can't get anything done on the lower levels, ratchet it up, right? I send my emails and went to get some lunch. Came back to my desk and 2 of the 3 people had already responded plus there was a message on my phone. From the counselor. Who apologized for not getting back to me sooner and was free to meet with me any time next week.

Then I read the email from the Dean, which began "I spoke to Mr. W and he will be calling you immediately". I suspect he may have done so with his tail between his legs.

Point is, that was all something I really needed to do before it was too late and it was a relief to do so.

I now just have some household puttering to do, one or two bits left to fling into my carry-on and soon I'll be winging my way to beautiful downtown Omaha. I talked to JP last night while I was packing (we had to discuss some of my fashion choices since it turns out that he and I are now throwing a party for a friend of his on Saturday night and that suggested some alterations to my original plan). He's excited. So am I. I always miss the fam when I go away from them but it's a good thing for Mommy to go away on her little Mommy-only jaunts every now and again. It's good for everyone.

Next blog posts will be from Omaha. I'll try and do a "video blob" (thanks, Sage) with JP. You'd all like that.

TTFN! (flutters lace hankie out taxi window as it pulls away from the house)

What I Will Be Doing at Work Today

1. Submitting a bunch of stuff for the foundation magazine.
2. Wearing beads.
3. Eating punzckis! (MAB & I don't say "punzcki"! without an exclamation point).
4. Shopping for andouille sausage.
5. Making big pots of gumbo for the houseguests to eat for dinner tonight.
6. Calling school and making a bunch of appointments that will probably mean at least half a day of NOT working at some point but it's that or have The Child practise "Hello, welcome to Walmart". (Oy vey).
7. Trying not to worry about number 5.
8. Thinking about pancake races.
9. Thinking about how awesome it is to have breakfast for supper on Shrove Tuesday.
10. Eating a lot of sweets since as of tomorrow I'm giving them up for 40 days.

Cool

Last night The Child was talking about school. It's been going really well. So far she's getting straight A's. Math is "easy" (owing to the fact that so far it's all been review of the stuff she learned last year). She has good friends and is planning a series of sleep-overs. She's already found a niche and it's the most wonderful thing in all the land.

"You are really enjoying school now, aren't' you?" I asked.

She stopped washing dishes, turned to me with a big grin and said, "I really am." She paused briefly and then added, almost shyly, "I just feel so cool when I'm walking with my friends after choir and carrying my bag across the courtyard to the cafeteria. I can't explain it". Her eyes sparkled.

She didn't have to explain. I feel the exact same way when I walk across the parking lot, carrying my briefcase, toward my office. Exactly the same way.

What makes you feel cool?

Bloody Mary Monday

The first day of school/work/everything-changing-pretty-much-overnight-but-we're-fine with-that went very well, thankyouverymuch.

The night before I had trouble sleeping. No, not what you'd think. I wasn't lying in bed worrying or getting all het up about starting work. Starting work feels, at the moment at least, like the most normal and natural thing to do. And this job doesn't have a lot of scary components to it. I know my boss. Not super, duper well but plenty well enough to feel at ease with her, to know that I can joke with her and that she's perfectly happy to answer my questions, listen to my ideas and generally trust me to do the best I can and let me know when I'm not and otherwise leave me to it.

Also, this is a new position. There will be a ton to learn and set up and all that but there's something different about being the one to do it first as opposed to learning how someone else did it, wrapping your head around the basics and then fiddling with procedures and how-tos to suit your own way of doing things.

Ever noticed that about jobs, btw? Like, there's the stuff you really do have to know: Finance needs this in triplicate, the code to the copier is 412, this report has to be updated once a week. Then there's the stuff that someone tries to tell you is part of the job but really it was the way they came to do it and doesn't really have to be done in quite that way? And how proprietary someone is when showing you the ropes of a job they are leaving behind? Well, anyway, there's none of that. MAB and I pretty much get to figure out how we want to do things, including where we put the electric stapler and how many big giant Ikea sunflowers leftover from the company picnic should be displayed in our bathroom. (4: 3 in a tall vase on the counter, 1 behind the commode. Because MAB is a bit whimsical like that).

And I was talking about not sleeping on Sunday night. So I couldn't sleep; mind just wouldn't shut down, even though it wasn't worried, certainly not on any conscious or even obviously sub-conscious level. (I don't think there is such a thing as what I just said). I finally got up and read for a while and went to bed at around 1:30 or so, which meant getting up at 5:45 was a little, uh, brutal. But I survived, powered by caffeine and a strong sense of "good golly I'm so happy to be here".

The Child had a lovely first day of Freshman orientation and has already made a couple of friends (well, of course she has).

The Spouse came home a little early so he could be there to hear about our days.

And ChouChou came over, as she has for 10 years, to have Bloody Marys. It has always been our tradition and even though we had to do it at cocktail hour instead of the morning as is our historical wont, we couldn't/wouldn't let the tradition die.

And yes, I know you wanted pictures but my battery was dead and so we'll have to recreate our looks later. We looked fabulous.

Thursday Morning Meeting

Could everyone please meet me in the conference room? I have a few announcements.

(Shuffles papers, adjusts "serious" glasses, pinches finger on clipboard. Ow).

First of all, thank you for wearing a shirt, Sling. Productivity in the secretarial pool is up 60%.

On the subject of dress code, just a reminder that "casual Friday" does not mean "no pants", JP.

Moving on, please note for your records that The Child will be attending Second Choice High this fall and we will now be referring to it as simply "High School" for the duration. We still had not heard from First Choice as of July 1 and since we now have to start paying tuition we are officially committed. Please know that The Child is quite content with this decision as is the Parental Board. Not to mention, I look way better in the school colors, which are red and white. Green and gold wash me out something terrible.

After months of trying, I am pleased to report that The Dog has slain his first rat. He is walking very tall and proud and we are going to get him a little belt and put notches on it.

Now then, I have asked Senator Russ Feingold to address the group with an important message. Senator Feingold?



Thank you, Senator. I'm sure we can all appreciate the importance of contacting our representatives while they are home for the 4th of July break and making it clear that the present FISA legislation must be stopped. I recognize that there may be those of you who are not concerned about the notion of illegal wiretaps and corporate collaboration, taking the position that you aren't doing anything wrong so you have nothing to worry about. While I applaud your character, I'd like to point out that this is a very naive position. When any government has unlimited power to spy on its citizens, the government ends up defining "doing wrong". History is replete with examples of people who were deemed "wrong" by their government by virtue of their religion, ethnicity, politics, or simply by the company they kept. Tomorrow we celebrate the founding of this nation. I think it would be a lovely gesture if we all did our part to see to it that the Constitution is not further sullied by the most unAmerican, unpatriotic administration in our nations history. Bastids.

Alright, looking ahead on the calendar you'll see that The Child leaves on her mission trip this Sunday, July 6 and is returning on Friday. Also, July 16th brings season 5 of Project Runway. I know you are all looking forward to some tranny fierce recaps. And let's see, what else? Oh, yes, the annual Forth o' Juleye Trailer Trash extravaganza has been cancelled this year. All the family hooha has depleted my will to wear pleather faux alligator capris and drink beer out of a can. I do still plan to make corn dogs, however.

I think that's everything. Thank you for your attention. There is pie in the break room and plenty o...Hat? Alrighty then. Meeting adjourned...you'd better get to the pie while you still can.

What the...

13 days, 7 hours and 15 minutes. That's the amount of time left in The Child's middle school career.

She's getting some pretty fine grades this trimester, except for math but her math teacher is confident that she'll be able to bring it up before the end of term. She only had 2 missing assignments on her last progress report. That's huge.

We still haven't heard anything from First Choice High, but I'm told that it's really just a matter of waiting for the dominos to fall. It's all good. The fact is, she got into high school. That's the achievement.

Last night at the retreat I was sitting with a guy I first met when The Child started kindergarten. His son is now a sophomore. It seems trite but there was a moment when we looked at our kids, remembering them as little tinys and said to each other, "Can you believe it?"

9 years ago she was all about the stuffed animals, the Madeline stories and the soundtrack of "Little Mermaid". Now the makeup and clothes are pushing out the toys, pop tunes are in the iPod and she reads chapter books. Then discusses them. It's inevitable and right, I know, and I've been here the whole time, every day watching her grow, but, as she used to say when she was a toddler, "I can't bebeeve it".

Speaking of the iPod, this would be a good time for a public apology to Dame Judi and Sean. I would like to formally apologize for all those hours I'd sit, plugged into the headphones on the stereo, which resided in such a public place, and sang along to Bread and Chicago at the top of my lungs. Really. I'm very sorry.

What is it about having headphones (or, in today's case, ear buds) that renders a person incapable of singing in tune? (shudders)

Mom, Dad...forgive me. I knew not how I sounded. I do now. (shudders again)

The school year is winding down. A cap and gown are hanging at the ready. I'm almost the mother of a senior high student.

13 days, 7 hours.

Golly Peepers

Interesting times with The Child these days. You know how she was in academic arrears with all sorts of missing assignments and freaking out about high school? Well, since she got her letter of acceptance to Second Choice she's been diddling around on the make-up work. Every day it's a new excuse...I left it at school...I could have sworn I brought it...I have the worksheet but I need my textbook...which is at school... But of course, anytime she was chastised, disciplined, or restricted for such excuses I'd get the quiver lip and a wounded "why are you pressuring me" thing.

Pressuring? No, that would apply to the parents who publicly reamed their daughter for not getting into the all-girl school they intended for her since birth. Pressure is demanding all As all the time.

But apparently, in the mind of a 14 year old, "pressure" is also defined as having to turn in assignments, having to study for tests, having to make up missing work.

We're the worst parents in the world. Waa waa.

The other morning I asked her why she wasn't taking this more seriously. Didn't she want to get into First Choice? "I don't know about that anymore," she replied. Ah ha! Of course she wants to go to First Choice. She's been talking about it for 2 years. She loved it when she toured. But now that the pressure is off, now that she's been admitted to Second Choice, she's taking the path of least resistance. Why work her butt off for First Choice when she has a school, right?

Except that all high school admittance is predicated on the assumption that one's grades will be as good or better than they were in the first trimester. If she starts pulling Ds and Cs again, Second Choice isn't going to want her, either. So even if there was a sea change in her choice, she still has to step it up. (Funny. Once this was pointed out to her, First Choice was back in the running).

Bottom line, she is now grounded until the work is done. Until she makes up all her missing assignments she is not going anywhere and no one is coming here. She gets no television, no computer usage (except for school work) and is this close to losing her iPod and cell phone. If she hasn't made up her assignments by the end of the weekend, not only is she grounded for the rest of the trimester but she's going to be pulled out of volleyball.

Sing it with me: we're the worst parents in the world. Wa wa.

We now pause for this important message:


Wow. That handheld camera thing is unsettling, isn't it? Also, there is a top to my head.

Anywhine, just when I was ready to knock her into next week (a line I used, btw) she got all compliant and perky. I hate when she does that. There I was, with a good ol' mad on and she starts getting the message. Rats.

From the day she was born, The Child has pushed boundaries. She never met a rule or restriction that didn't look ripe for the fighting. The bulk of our parenting has been spent holding the line against her fierce determination. Once she realizes we really aren't going to budge this time either, she relaxes into the knowledge that the world is as safe as we can make it and she has only to cooperate to find some peace and satisfaction in her existence. It's a crazy game. But I'm very clear that all her energy and will simply must be channelled for good and not evil. If we don't teach her how to work within constraints, how to pick her battles, how to use her energies to accomplish her dreams rather than thwart them, then we have failed. Her strong will can be a tremendous asset, but only if she learns how to regulate it. And that is our job.

Right. So later in the evening we had to tell her some bad news. Her long-planned trip to France has been put on hold for a year. Her "host family" is going through a difficult patch right now and we've determined that it is selfish of us to impose The Child on them at this time. I was braced for quite a hullabaloo but when she was presented with the facts of the case she was completely understanding and showed a ton of empathy for our friends and what they are dealing with. In other words, she could have looked at it entirely in terms of how it affected her but she didn't.

The Spouse and I gave each other a high five later; stuff like that almost makes you think you're doing a decent job as a parent. And we have to celebrate those moments when we get them.

Wish me luck this weekend. I expect it could get rather loud around here. Crockery may be heaved. I should make sure we have gin in the house.

Meanwhile, here's a song by another determined young lady.

Avril Lavigne "I'm With You"

Muuuuah!

You may now uncrossed and unplait everything. Sorry for the inconvenience...I know it can't have been easy to do whatever you did this weekend with all your digits entangled.

The Child was accepted to Second Choice High and is on the wait list for First Choice.

This is not a tragedy by any means. She will be just fine with attending Second Choice. And, of course, there is a perfectly fine chance that she'll get off the list and into the halls of First Choice. (Because, after all, these fine children all apply to more than one school. They all have first, second and third choices. For some, First Choice is their fall back. So you see, once FCH holds their first registration they will be more clear about how many spaces are left to fill).

Point is, that load has been lifted and even though there is some waiting now with First Choice, The Child knows for a fact that she is going to high school. She also knows that if she goes to Second Choice, she's going to take one year of Intro. to Drama as one of her electives.

Excuse me, please, while the reality of all this sinks in.

It's Not Easy Being Teen

The Child had a complete meltdown yesterday. Her homeroom teacher had called me for a conference. You see, after getting the best report card of her middle school experience last trimester, she has now fallen back into some of her worst academic habits and at the moment is flunking half her courses. And yes, it's the same damn bugbear it's always been, missing assignments.

In the past she would do the work and not turn it in. This time around I think she's not actually done most of the work.

We have a little liturgy each afternoon:


Leader: Did you get your homework done?

Response: Yes, Muuuom. (Roll eyes)

Was I actually having her show me that the work was finished? Of course not. She's in the 8th grade. I can't be treating her like a baby. Right? Wrong, obviously. So anyeff, when she brought home this horrible progress report full of 0s (which indicate missing assignments), I asked what was up and she didn't really say so I gave her a lecture. And every day I'd broach the subject:

Leader: "Did you get the materials you need to finish those assignments?"

Response: "Yes, Muu-om". (Roll eyes).

Or I'd ask for an update on what she's been working on and she'd go into full drama queen mode: "I'm working on it! Geez, Mom! I don't need this pressure! I know what I need to do, alright?" Which, depending on my mood and how quickly she got to downright insolence, would either make me turn and walk away with a shrug or give her both barrels.

Teenagers are just awesome.

Cut to yesterday and the call from her teacher and she starts to freak. "He's concerned about my grades, he already told me that, you don't have to have a meeting..."

"Well, yeah, I do have to have a meeting because your teacher called me in for one". And then she started crying. Not drama queen crying, real honest to goodness, something-is-sitting-so-wrong-in-her-heart crying.

Her tears and sobs continued through the length of our conversation but the upshot was that she's so so so nervous about high school, specifically getting into First Choice. Or even more specifically, that she'll not get into First Choice. And, you see, the letters are going out today so we'll know by next Tuesday or Wednesday at the latest. The anticipation is eating her up. Which I totally get because I'm thinking about it a lot, too...

I'm not one of those people who reads all the "how to talk to your kids so they'll listen" sort of books. I don't do well with self-help texts. Times like yesterday afternoon always leave me wishing I were better prepared for this parenting stuff.

I told her I truly understood. I told her I wished I could say it was going to be fine and she was a shoo-in. But I couldn't. I said that the worst thing that could happen is she doesn't get in, in which case we'll regroup and figure out the next steps. I suggested that if she doesn't get in, it may be a blessing in disguise. Then I told her that the truth is, she's going to have lots more experiences like this: waiting to hear about college, waiting to hear if she got the job, waiting for mortgage papers to come through, waiting to see if the pregnancy test is positive...sometimes we have to wait and it's really hard because sometimes, after doing everything we can, the outcome is being determined by other forces and we have no control over it.

BUT, I sweetly told her, the thing one cannot do in such times is put everything else on hold. She can't not do her homework because she's worried about high school. She still has to graduate eighth grade and that is something she can control.

Then I held her. And then I gave her a valentine.

Say a little prayer for her today, if you would. (Or send her some good vibes or do a naked pagan fire dance...whatever your method). Poor little scutter. She's growing up and sometimes that is just really, really hard work.

Today's video is one of my favorite songs by this artist and is dedicated to The Child and all the waiting that comes with life; here's hoping she can learn to mine riches out of the in-between moments. And since the quality of this video is lacking a smidge, today you get a twofer, another song of inspiration.



Carly Simon "Anticipation"





Carly Simon "Let the River Run"

(PS: The sync seems to be off in the second video, which is weird because the version I downloaded was fine. Sorry about that).

This Is Starting to Be a Regular Feature

Thursday Placeholder. I should make a button for it. Oh, look. I did.

Quick notes:

1) The Child was finishing up her applications the other night (a painstaking process for someone with dyslexia and who has to also really concentrate, like a monk at vellum, to make her handwriting legible). She got it done, though, and smiled up at me broadly. "You know what I am really looking forward to about high school, Mom?"

I love these moments. She'd been copying out her very thoughtfully written entrance essay about her love of the arts and the importance of academics within the context of a faith-filled environment...

"What are you looking forward to, honey?"

"Decorating my locker!"

b) Then yesterday we drove up to First Choice High so she could drop off the last of her application bits. She went in by herself while I sat in the car and looked for my gas card which I had seen in the bottom of my purse just a few hours before . She returned, very pink and bright-eyed.

"Oh, Mama, everyone is so nice. There was a student who offered to show me to the office and when I got there I gave them my papers and then I asked if they had everything else they needed and then they checked and it took a while and I was nervous but then they said, 'Yes, we have everything! You're all set!' and I said, 'Oh, good. Now all I have to do is wait' and then, Mommy, they all applauded for me!"

After that she took a breath and then she started to quiver a little and dab at her eyes, having a very physical response to the relief of having completed the process. Because it's been arduous. It has weighed on her mind, sometimes more than I realized.

(Silly mommy...if it was weighing on me, surely it was having some effect on her. But kids, you know, sometimes they are very good at masking things. They watch Hannah Montana and listen to their iPod in the dark when they are supposed to be sleeping and sometimes snap at their parents but they don't come right out and say, "This is really weighing on me". And a better mommy would look at her own worries and wonderings and then go to said kid and say, sweetly, "You know, this whole thing sometimes keeps me up nights. You?" To which the kid more often than not will reply, "What? High school? Sheesh, mom". Eyes would probably be rolled. Can't really win for losing with them at this age. Just saying.)

Point is, she is finished, she's done the best she can do and all that's left is the waiting. (That and me making sure our priest's number is on my cell phone speed dial in case he has to pull strings. Oh, yeah. I'm not above that. At all).

I've got a few hours with my client this morning so you'll have to check back this afternoon for the Project Runway recap. All I can say is, remember the recap spoof JP did last week? Yeah. Well. Prophetic.

Hi! I Just Realized That Christmas is Only a Week Away

I got started on wrapping gifts yesterday. While being a fan of the beautifully wrapped package, I have no facility for that. My packages always look like they have been wrapped by a 5th grader, no matter what I do. (Hat, please to be adjusting expectations accordingly). I'm sure the fact that I don't much enjoy wrapping presents has something to do with it. Much as I appreciate seeing a box covered in glossy paper and festooned with ribbons and bows, it always seems a little silly. I'll spend 5 minutes wrapping something, only to have someone rip, shred and tear through it in 10 seconds. I am tempted, every year, to employ a technique Dame Judi resorted to: she sewed up six burlap bags in Christmas colors and filled them with unwrapped gifts. We'd sit on the floor, bags tightly closed in our eager little fists, taking turns digging in, without looking mind you, to pull out our gifts. I so totally understand why she started doing that. I just have to wrap gifts for 2 people and a handful of friends; but it's still just a glorified chore.

The chore part is the actual wrapping. The glory of it, which is what keeps me going year after year, is imagining the delight of the recipients. (Well, The Spouse not so much. He is one of those people who opens a gift and says, "Oh, that's nice. Thank you". Very hard to get a hearty "OH! WOW! FANTASTIC!" from him. It's not that he's not grateful but after 16 years I still don't think I've ever given him anything that made him plotz with amazement. And let's face it, isn't thrilling and amazing someone kinda the point? I digress). I know The Child is going to love her "big" present. I'm pretty sure The Hat will love her "big" present. And there are all sorts of little treats and surprises as well that will elicit some "yippees" and giggles. No one is getting underwear, which is always a good thing. So I enjoyed wrapping up presents and thinking about the joy and laughter of Christmas morning, because that's the point; not the fact that I can't seem to line up the ends of the paper (it looks like rows of Christmas ribbon) to match or make perfectly sharp corners.

---

I've lost about 10 pounds this week. 10 pounds of worry and concern, that is. My mind has been too much occupied with financial considerations and all the high school hooha. But I'm on the other side now. We signed papers last night to refinance the house; we didn't have a sub-prime loan or anything but with an interest-only equity line and some credit cards and me not working until the new year, it was all getting a little fraught. Especially when every time I turned on NPR there was another story about how bad things are going in the economy. I wanted to consolidate everything into something safe, fixed and low interest and now we have, freeing some nice handfuls of cash month to month in the process. So that's a load off. Mundane, but a load off.

As for high school, The Child had a pleasant enough time at Second Choice High yesterday but she came away sure that First Choice is indeed first choice. I asked if she'd be OK with SCH in the event that she didn't get into FCH and she said, "Oh, yeah", which was a relief (one doesn't want to hate one's back-up). Never mind that I now feel fairly certain that she'll be accepted to FCH. The email from our priest saying he'd sent "glowing letters of recommendation" on her behalf helped. (He's kind of a big deal in the archdiocese. Just saying). The fact that all of you have your fingers crossed helped. Seeing her enthusiasm and determination, that really helped.

She was so cute when I picked her up yesterday. She said, "I've made a list!" and pulled out some note paper (note paper, btw, emblazoned with a logo for FCH) on which she'd noted pros and cons of both schools, complete with scoring system. It ranged from the sensible (smaller classes at FCH) to the silly (awesome pizza bagels at FCH) but it was fundamentally thoughtful. It went to what she values, what she's looking for and I found myself more than a little amazed.

I mean, here we've been in charge of her decisions for nearly 14 years and we still fundamentally are for the next 4 but she's now arrived at that place in her life where she truly is thinking for herself, weighing her options, judging what she values and wants. It was a blessed thing to see because that is, after all, the point of parenting. Our job is to teach her to think for herself so that we don't have to hold her hand all her life. First Choice has been on Papa's and my radar for years but now she owns that, for all her own reasons. Realizing that yesterday was right up there with watching her take her first faltering steps. She really is growing up.

And now I must away. I've gotta cram for my emissions test, finish wrapping presents and bake the annual eggnog cakes for the faculty and staff. I've decided to gift everyone this year, not just The Child's teachers, because I'm feeling just a little varklempt about this being our last Christmas at St. G and I want to show my appreciation to all the hard-working angels at the school. I can't give them all a million dollars, so brandied eggnog fluffiness will have to do.

One Down

We stood in the green tiled hall, outside the office. Every time another parent came in we'd smile a polite greeting, maybe nod, then quickly look away. We were all waiting for our 8th graders to finish their tours, waiting to hear how they had liked First Choice High, full of questions and hopes.

But we didn't speak. Instead, we occupied ourselves with the display case, examining the awards for Student of the Month, searching the large black and white photo of the class of '58, the first graduates of FCH. We looked at the large and looming paintings of 3 dead and gone bishops, looking stern and pre-Vatican II in their red robes; searching for a hint of humor in their eyes.

We didn't speak and I was glad of it. No sense in getting to know each other. There will be time for that if we wind up at the parent mixer during freshman orientation. Not that I'm any good at those things anyway. I'm never the one to make the first move. All the friends I've gained from The Child's school years made the first move. I'm painfully shy in those situations, largely because I've never had much facility for small talk. The mere fact of having a child in the same school has never been enough for me to scrabble together a decent opening line.

And I fear the direction those opening conversations might take. I've mentioned before that my generation of parents tend to be very competitive. I feared talking to "that parent", the one who would list her precious baby's myriad accomplishments: the straight A's and bountiful civic awards. I didn't want to talk about how competitive all this business supposedly is and how lucky they are to have a personal recommendation from Benedict. I was perfectly content to appear self-possessed and smug about my child's chances for being accepted to First Choice, and Second Choice, for that matter.

I am (finally) more confident, of course. The Child has a B average, with a nice ledger of activities and service, stellar recommendations, a principal and teacher who will do everything in their power to get her into First Choice. But I didn't want to talk about that with these strangers, even if they too were just as concerned and hopeful for their babies as I was.

Then The Child rounded the corner, her eyes shining.

"Mommy, I just toured the drama department. It's so awesome!"

We're Going to High School

If you came to me with a million dollars in a cute Kate Spade bag and said, "You can have this if you will relive one year of high school," I'd say, "Do I get to keep the bag?" and you'd say, "Sure," I'd say, "Can I pick the year?" and you'd say, "Yeah, any one of the four" and I'd say, "Could I have the bag in red?" and you said, "Sure," and I'd say, "Um, no. But thanks". Not for a million dollars in a red Kate Spade bag would I want to relive high school. A day, maybe, if I could pick the day. But not a year. Thank you, anyway.

I hated high school. I hated being a teenager. I hated being a pastor's kid. I hated the jocks and the soshes and the stoners and the a/v geeks, who broke my heart because they were even less cool than I was. I loved my little group of friends and the good, clean fun we had but I rarely had any classes with my buddies. I hated biology. I loved English. I hated PE (except when we learned square dancing). I hated being in love with the wrong guy and the way his sister tormented me when we weren't together. I hated not being allowed to go to dances but I probably would have hated dances because I was skinny and gawky and wore glasses and had a bad shag haircut (it was the 70s) and when I had a boyfriend he was older and didn't go to high school so I wouldn't have had anyone to dance with even if I'd known how to dance, which I didn't.

I wasn't pretty . I wasn't cool. (Golly, I was so totally the opposite of cool). I hadn't learned to value any of the things that were awesome about me, like my sense of humor or my compassion or my talent. I didn't fit in my skin and high school was, in short, nothing I'd want to do again for a million dollars in a red Kate Spade bag; not even knowing what I know now.

It is my fondest hope that it's going to be different for The Child. Grade school hasn't been a picnic for her. Between the bullying and the dyslexia and the struggle to fit in once she transferred from the bully school and the drama queens in her current class, she's had a rough go. She's paid her dues, people. I'd like to think that she's going to start high school, fresh from a life altering summer in France and armed with the self-possessions she's gained from all her hard knocks and will, consequently, find her niche, snuggle into her niche and rock it. I don't have dreams of her being a cheer leader, ASB president, homecoming queen and starring in every play. But I like to think that she'll find some nice friends, settle into her school work, get involved with the drama program and feel like she belongs.

I know. It's a bit much, considering that very few people I know speak with adoring fondness of their high school experience, but I still hope that for her. And when I hear people I know talk about the two schools to which she's applying, I think it's possible. Because they all speak fondly. I was wearing the sweatshirt for First Choice High at Trader Joe's one day and a clerk stopped me and said, "I went to First Choice. It was the best four years of my life". From her lips...

Today and tomorrow The Child is touring both schools, all day sessions, paired up with a current student, going through the paces and living the life of a high school student. She's psyched. She picked out an outfit (after carefully studying the dress code), put herself to bed at a decent hour, got up on her own and hit the shower (hello?). She is currently watching the news and eating a banana-yogurt-granola parfait. She's got homework packed in her messenger bag and money for lunch.

Saturday was the last of her placement exams. She feels really good about both of them. She said she finished every section before time was up (a huge accomplishment for little miss Freak-out-during-timed-tests). She said the math portion was really easy and she even felt good about the essay she had to write (pick a hero from literature and tell why you admire that person. She picked Hermione Granger from the Harry Potter books, because she respects her work ethic. "Way to suck up," said The Spouse). Having those tests behind her is a huge relief. Did I mention she had a very decent report card? And that she's written a fine essay about why she wants to attend First Choice (which will be adapted to argue for why she also wants to attend Second Choice)? I haven't written my essay yet. Oh, yeah, I have to write an essay about why I want her to attend these schools, too. Lordy, lordy, there wasn't this much paperwork involved when I applied to college. Letters of recommendation have been requested, the Pastoral Associate at church has written to confirm we are parishioners in good standing, forms have gone to the teacher and principal, lists of awards and community service and volleyball championships are being compiled and once all the i's are dotted and t's crossed, the whole bloody mess will be submitted (by January 17) and then we wait to see if she's accepted. Which of course, she will be. Who wouldn't be thrilled to have a kid like The Child in their student body.

Two days ago she was an itty bitty baby with chubber chubber cheeks and now she's going to high school.

I need a tablet.