Second Blooming

Carnegie Hall Here I Come

I'm on my way to New York to sing at Carnegie Hall!

If you missed this amazing turn of events, read HERE.

I'm so excited I can't stand it. Five days on my own in the Big Apple! Actually performing Mozart's Requiem in Carnegie Hall! Getting to see a bunch of my old college friends! Swinging by Long Island to visit Mommy and Pop! It's all so good. It's just what I need.

However, I've been a nervous wreck all week. Am I worried about singing Mozart's Requiem? No. Am I worried about performing in front of 2000 people in Carnegie Hall? No.  Am I worried about what the hell I'm going to wear? Whether or not I'm going to trip and fall on my face? Come in at the wrong time? On the wrong note? No, no, no and no.

I am worried about the care and maintenance of Jude while I'm gone.

Yes, I know that Jude's a big boy, and Jimmy's an even bigger boy. And I know that I should trust Jimmy to take care of doing what needs to be done for his son. But...I don't. I just don't trust that he will get the boy where/when he needs to be for a whole 5 days. 

So I have prepared. Ridiculously. I have made a detailed schedule and posted it to the cabinet in the kitchen...

I have written out exactly what he needs to pack for Jude's lunch every day. With bullet points...

 

All lunch food is arranged and labeled on the counter below the sign.

 

I have pre-packed bags with everything Jude will need for his various activities, and clearly labeled them...

I have arranged for a teenage neighbor to come over and "hang out" with Jude while Jimmy works on Thursday night (apparently, he is much too old for a "babysitter"), and have left money for him in an envelope on the mantel.

I have arranged for a sleepover on Friday night, and a ride to a party at the beach on Saturday. I have printed out detailed directions to all of these places, with numerous phone numbers for everyone involved.

I have filled the refrigerator with a massive amount of simple-to-prepare and/or frozen foods. I have affixed Post-it notes to various foods saying things like "Eat this" and "Microwave on High for 2 minutes".

I have arranged for him to stay after school on Wednesday and Thursday to ensure that he has time to complete the THREE school projects he has due over the next two weeks.

Okay, Gretchen, breathe in...breathe out. It's all fine. It will all be fine. How bad could it get? No, don't think about it. Just think about this...

 

Carnegie Hall - the view from the stage.

 

I'll try to check in with y'all during the week. Ooo, maybe I'll even Tweet. I could do that, I could Tweet.

Wish me luck!! And wish Jimmy luck too!

RTT: Mothers, Buttons and Jackie Robinson

 

I had the LAZIEST Mother's Day. Jimmy and Jude allowed me to just dilly-dally in bed all afternoon - I watched tv, I played computer games, I read, I ate food that I didn't have to make off a breakfast tray. It was heavenly. I realize that most mothers want a nice brunch or dinner or something, but I was just too exhausted. I really needed the day to rest and recuperate. I hope all of you mothers out there had a beautiful day, and that you got treated with exactly what YOU needed.

Oh, and in honor of Mother's Day, here are some glamorous pictures of my two mothers...

 

Mama!

Mommy!

 

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I have been loving the latest season of Game of Thrones. The other day I found this article 16 Games of Thrones Characters Who Are Giving You Major Deja Vu. You know, I watch a ton of British tv, and I always see the same actors over and over, but some of these blew me away. I mean, I knew that the women who plays Margaery Tyrell also played Anne Boleyn on The Tudors, and the actress who plays Osha was Tonks in the Harry Potter movies...

and Ser Jerah was the dastardly Sir Richard on Downton Abbey...

But I was totally blown away to realize that Littlefinger is the same actor who played Tommy Carcetti on The Wire!

 

Oh my God!

 

...I mean, I've been obsessively watching Game of Thrones and The Wire concurrently, and it never occurred to me ever! A testament to Aidan Gillen's abilities as an actor.

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I personally would like to add "Please stop posting glamorous pictures of yourself and exaggerating your mediocre acting career." I realize that this doesn't resonate for most of you.

 

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Jude and I finally went and saw 42, the movie about Jackie Robinson, and we both enjoyed it very much. He wasn't so sure if he wanted to see it, as he has decided that he isn't into baseball anymore now that he has discovered the joys of track and swimming, but I suspected that it would appeal to him and his innate sense of social justice, and I was right. He's been talking about it ever since. Yes, it is a little overly earnest, and sentimental, but it's really well-acted and extremely moving. I highly recommend that you all take your kids to see it. It's a great story of heroism and strength. Be warned that the language is a little rough, and there is repeated use of the n-word (at one point, Jude actually covered his ears because of it), but it certainly was historically accurate, and the word is never used casually - the hatred behind it is very impactful. And there's a little sexy stuff, but it's all sweet married people who love each other sexy stuff, so I was fine with it. Go see it!

 

Chadwick Boseman, who played Robinson also happens to be super cute. Just saying.

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I stole this off a friend's Facebook page, and I'm fairly sorry for it - I don't know this woman, and she's probably horrified that a picture of her has gone viral - but really?

 

This is in a McDonald's. So wrong. On so many levels.

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That's the random for today. Go see Stacy!

Super Duper Whooperly

Jude made this for me for Mother's Day...

 

Typos and creative spelling courtesy of my son.

I will possibly recover from this awesomeness by next week. I love my child.

 

The Classics

Until a year ago, I had read aloud to Jude virtually every night of his life since the day he was born. I'll never forget holding him in the hospital and reading...

We looked!

Then we saw him step in on the mat!

We looked! And we saw him!

The Cat in the Hat!

Carefully holding the book up to share Dr. Seuss's pictures for his not-yet-focused eyes.

Reading aloud to him has been one of the greatest joys of my life. It perfectly combines my love of books + my love of performance + my love of the boy.

We have always had our nighttime reading ritual. Over time, he started reading on his own, aloud to me. Which I also loved. He'd read a while to me, then I'd read a while to him.

Then he stopped wanting to read aloud to me. He wanted to read to himself inside his head. No problem. We established something I called "tandem reading" during which time he would read his book and I would read my book, then we'd put our books away and I'd read something aloud to him.

But then...about a year ago...dum, dum, dum, DUM...he told me he really didn't need me to read aloud to him anymore.

This was truly heartbreaking. Earthshatteringly upsetting. But I survived. Never really got over it...sigh...but worked my way through it. He is growing up. Pushing away from Mom. It's all healthy and natural. But I still hated it.

Then, about a month ago...

We went and saw that 3D nightmare, Oz the Great and Powerful. That night, as Jude was going to sleep, he suddenly asked if we still had that old copy of The Wizard of Oz that I'd had when I was little. We did.

 

Love that old book smell.

My Mama had loved the book The Wizard of Oz because her father had been personal friends with L. Frank Baum when the author lived in Aberdeen, South Dakota, Mama's hometown. Apparently, his description of Kansas in the book is based on his experience in Aberdeen. 

I dug the book out and handed it to him, assuming he wanted to read it to himself, but instead he asked, "Could you read it to me?"

CUE: CHORUS OF ANGELS

I could! And I DID! And we enjoyed it so much that when we finished it, I pulled out another beloved edition from my childhood, The Wind in the Willows, and have been reading it to him!

 

Badger and Mole and Toad and Rat

 

Interestingly, these are books which he deems too "babyish" to read to himself, but are still very intriguing, and my reading them aloud to him seems to be the perfect solution.

I have started a stack on his bedside table of children's classics which he has never read, and we are both kind of excited about. Next up is Peter Pan, then Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.

It's kind of sad that Disney has ruined these books for kids and has them believing that they are too "babyish". They aren't. In fact, the writing is very grownup, with lots of big words. It's nothing that a little kid could read. I'm assuming that they were originally written to be read aloud. Lucky me!

All of this reading of classics has me loving my funny little man all the more. He has been picking up Wind in the Willowsisms. Three times now, I have heard him using the word..."posthaste". I can't imagine what his teacher is going to think if he works this into some comment at school.

And he completely lost it when we read the following sentence...

"Nor don't the ducks neither," replied the Rat cheerfully.

"Hahahahahahahah," said Jude, barely able to catch his breath, "that's HYSTERICAL! It's a TRIPLE negative!!"

I don't know whether to be proud that my child found a triple negative so hilarious, or slightly embarrassed. It's real English Major humor.

Nevertheless, I am really enjoying being the read-alouder again. I don't know how long it's going to last, but I'm going to relish every moment!

Mama Would Be SO Excited

The other day, Jude received this invitation in the mail...

 

It's Cotillion, y'all! That last bastion of civility, graciousness and good manners. It's so high society and SOUTHERN. I love it! And even though Jude is fairly resistant about the idea of learning how to be a proper gentleman and needing to dress up and dance with an actual girl, he will be MADE to join Cotillion because...well...just because. Because it's what well-bred young men do. And because his Grandmama is up in heaven wearing her good pearls and her Coach bag, and jumping up and down with joy.

For those of you unfamiliar with the Los Angeles Cotillion, it is a hundred-year old tradition, offered to the children of the Hancock Park area of Los Angeles. While Beverly Hills is the trashy, new-money area of LA, Hancock Park is the elegant, old-money area. Though we don't actually live in Hancock Park. We live in what realtors would describe as "Hancock Park Adjacent", which is code for the armpit where Koreatown, Little Armenia, Little El Salvador and Thai Town intersect. So Jude has not been invited because of his blood-lines or wealth, but simply because I'm friends with half of the "Patroness Committee", and the 5th Grade Chairman is the mom of one of his best friends.

According to the invitation...

Cotillion is a multi-year series of semi-formal dancing parties with etiquette instruction where girls and boys are afforded the opportunity to develop social skills, acquire and practice good manners, increase self-esteem, and prepare themselves to experience any social situation with confidence.

Don't you love it! From what I hear, the dance parties are led by a husband and wife who have been running Cotillion since the dawn of time, and have, in fact, taught etiquette to the parents of many of Jude's friends. And they seem like a rather well-mannered group to me.

Girls are required to wear modest party dresses with covered shoulders and backs, white gloves, socks or hose, and low-heeled dancing shoes. Boys are required to wear suits or sport coats with dress slacks, dress shirt and tie, dress shoes and dark socks.

WHITE GLOVES, y'all!

From the website...

Basic social dances, traditional good manners and the importance and relevance of interpersonal relationship skills are taught in graduated levels, progressing each Cotillion year in difficulty and variety. Each party typically consists of a short receiving line, group dancing instruction, various etiquette lessons, refreshment service, and a fun party game or friendly contest.

Hehehe!! I am giddy with excitement! A receiving line!

Jude is going to HATE it, but I don't care! It's everything Mama wished for me, but was never able to deliver. She was dying for me to put on the white dress and have my debut as a debutante, but alas, our social status just didn't cut it.

Do you want to hear the BEST part? The Christmas dance is a Mother/Son, Father/Daughter dance! That's right, I will get to put on a nice dress and dance WITH HIM. I'm getting all misty and hormonal just thinking about it!

And hopefully, the boy will learn a thing or two about how to behave. My friend Rachel told me that when she first went out with her now-husband, Nick, she knew there was something special about him when, despite his hipster style and laid-back demeanor, he always opened the car door for her, and held the door when she entered the room. How did he learn this? Cotillion! The very same one.

Ooo, I'm going to have to go brush up on my fox trot. And clean Mama's pearls.

Double Digits

Ten-years old today.

 

Jude = 10

Happy Birthday my love. Your kindness and loving spirit stun me every day. I can't imagine what I could have done in my life to merit receiving you as my child. You are my blessing. I love you, sweetest boy.

 

Freeways

Oh look, it's another post in which Gretchen whines about driving her child around Los Angeles.

My day on Saturday:

6:45 - Wake up.

7:15 - The 101 (in LA freeway parlance, the one-o-one) to the 110 (one-ten) to the 105 (one-o-five) to the 405 (four-o-five). This got us to Manhattan Beach by...

8:00 - Jude tries out for Junior Lifeguards. Has to swim a 100 yards in under 1.50 to make the lifeguards - he crushes it in 1.21. Welcome to Junior Lifeguards.

9:00 - The 1 (also known as the PCH, Pacific Coast Highway) plus a bunch of side streets got us to...

9:30 - Track meet in Torrance, CA. Run, run, run, run and more run.

3:30 - Leave Torrance and drop Jude's friend Nick at his house - The 110 to the 10.

4:30 - Home.

That's 6 different freeways in a day. Which I consider too damn many freeways.

I know that mothers everywhere in the world endure this kind of torture every weekend, but I truly believe that mothers who taxi their children around on the freeways of the Greater Los Angeles area, endure a special breed of hell. I have no idea how mothers with multiple kids do it. I really don't. I have friends with 3 kids who have games/meets/tryouts all over the place at conflicting hours, and spend hours stuck in mind-numbing traffic.

 

But then...I guess it's all worth it for your kid's summer of...

Woohoo!

Spin Cycle: I Am the Tree

When Jude was born, he looked just like Jimmy. According to this New York Times article, scientific studies have shown that infants usually look like their dads. The theory is that nature helps out Mom a bit by letting Dad know for sure that the kid is his. When Jude popped out looking like he belonged in Jimmy's family, I was fine with this idea. I did, after all, love Jimmy, and liked the way he looked.

But then, when the boy was about a year and a half old, he  started changing. He started looking...like me.  A lot like me. And thus, a lot like Mama and Daddy. He has the blond hair, which I had when I was little, as did Mama...

 

Little blond Jude

Little blond me

 

 

Little blond Mama

 

Sometimes, I'll look at my hands and see Mama's hands. Right there on the end of my arms. And Jude's hands? Just the same. It's eerie.

I first realized that Jude had started looking like me when Aunt Grace made a comment that Jude could "do that thing you do with your legs." And it was true. I hadn't noticed, but he can do this...

 

 

Weird thing Jude can do.

Weird thing I can do.

I guess our knees are double-jointed or something, but we both think this is totally comfortable. And it blew me away when I realized he could do it. I've never known anyone in my life who could do it. I can't tell you how it made me feel. There was someone LIKE me.

Because...I have no family. Well, not much, anyway. No brothers or sisters. No parents. And I adored my parents so much, that the thought of their gene pool fading away into oblivion just made me so overwhelmingly sad.

However...

Now I'm starting to worry that he is too much like me. Not physically, the physical similarities are fine. It's the behavioral similarities. Sometimes, the kid will say something, a Gretchenism if you will, and I'll just gasp. He sounds just like a middle-aged Southern woman. I fear that this is not a good thing.

I'll never forget one particular time, several years ago, when a bunch of moms and kids were at our house for an afternoon playdate. The kids were playing in our little above-ground pool, and the moms were all drinking margaritas (please don't judge), when suddenly, Jude fell backwards into the pool and got his foot stuck in the metal pool frame. Instead of shouting "Help!" like most little children would, the boy shrieked at the top of his lungs, "Oh Lordy! Oh Lordy!" He sounded just like me. And...Mama.

A couple of weeks ago, my friend Carol gave Jude a ride to swim practice, and afterwards she said "Jude's so funny. He's fun to listen to when he talks. He sounds so...well, like you." Oh no. When asked to define this, she said that he used big words and sounded sort of formal and old-fashioned for a little kid. Then, the other day, the 7th grade teacher at school told me that she'd finally connected that Jude was my son. She said she could tell because he spoke just like me. When I asked exactly what this meant, she said that we used the same syntax. Sigh. I'm afraid that the chicks won't dig this.

Now all this isn't to say that Jude is in no way like Jimmy. He is. He has his dark brown, Italian eyes, his eyebrows, his feet. Certain mannerisms. They both love The Beatles.

But very often, Jude and I will find ourselves sharing a moment, a joke or a common interest, and when Jimmy walks in the room, we stop and look at each other, and realize that Jimmy just doesn't understand. The other day, Jimmy came in and asked what we were watching on tv, and Jude started to try to explain Doctor Who to him, but after about 30 seconds, just said "It's a show that Mom and I like."

And I feel a little sorry for Jimmy. The same way I felt sorry for Mama when Daddy and I shared a joke. Because Mama never understood our sense of humor. Daddy and I had inside joke after inside joke, and she never got any of it.

I must admit that I don't feel that sorry. Jimmy has his mom and dad and brother and countless cousins who are all just like him. But for me? I just have that one little boy.

So I'm happy to be the tree. I hope he's not too embarrassed to be my apple. And I know that soon, the little apple will roll farther away, and become his own tree. And maybe his little apples will have the same blond hair and the same hands and do the same weird thing with their legs.

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You absolutely must go and read our other Apple/Tree spinners!

Jan at Jan's Sushi Bar

Lynn at Curly Girl's Music World 

Vandy J at The Testosterone Three and Me

Ginny Marie at Lemon Drop Pie - NEW on FRIDAY!

Nain at View From Down Here - NEW on FRIDAY!

Janice at I Got Nothing - NEW on FRIDAY!

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Next week on The Spin Cycle...

Bucket List

What things do you desperately want to do before you leave this earth?

Learn French? Buy a motorcycle? Visit the pyramids? Climb Kilimanjaro? Make a successful souffle?

Write it. Post it. Let me know. I'll link it.

Check back next Friday for my spin on Bucket List, and get the next week's Spin topic!

 

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Night

Shhhhh.

At this very moment, I am lying in bed. In the dark.

Jimmy is safely asleep next to me. He has the tv on, and is ostensibly watching an old episode of The Twilight Zone. But really he is asleep. I know this because he is snoring.

Jude is safely asleep in his bed in his room. He read himself to the point of exhaustion, then accepted a kiss and let me tuck him in, rolled over and was immediately asleep.

Fancy, our little dog, is safely asleep on Jimmy's feet. She was asleep on my feet, but it drives me crazy, so I carefully rolled her across the bed onto Jimmy. This didn't wake up either of them.

The bedroom is lit by the soft light of the television and of the laptop, which is resting on a little tray on my lap. The rest of the house is dark.

A fan is blowing on me, serving the dual purpose of cooling me off and providing soothing white noise, which blocks out Jimmy's snoring. The curtains to my right flutter softly in the breeze of the fan.

I have just taken a nice hot bath, put on my nightgown and slathered my body with all of my various creams.

The sheets are clean.

This is my favorite time of day.

Everyone is fed and bathed and safe, right where they should be. It's peaceful and quiet and nobody is asking me for anything or needs me to do anything. It's the time when I can be completely alone, and yet completely surrounded by my loved ones at the same time. It's the time when I can be completely serving of my family, nurturing and protecting, and at the same time, completely selfish.

This is when I watch my Netflix shows. And play my computer games. And nibble on naughty snacks. And sometimes even have a nice glass of wine or a cocktail. All by myself. It's very indulgent.

Happy, happy.

Shhhhh.

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This post was inspired by...

Prompt #2 -  Write a blog post inspired by the word: Night.

Aha! Moment

Lately, I've been having this ongoing issue with Jude's hair. I mean, it's  always been a mess, he hates to comb it, and it sticks up all over his head like a crazy man. He considers it his "look". And I'm always chasing him around with a brush, trying to do a little something about it.

But now it's starting to stick up all over his head like straw. He'll come out of the shower, and his hair feels like it's stiff and dry. At first I thought he just wasn't washing out the shampoo, but he is. I know this because the other day, despite his alarming modesty, I forced my way into his shower and rinsed it myself (difficult when the boy is screaming "Don't look at me!! I'm naked, don't look at me!" and I have to grope around with my eyes shut). We've started putting in a leave-in conditioner, but it doesn't seem to be helping.

Then the other day, I suddenly had an "Aha" moment.

One of the other moms said "Jude's has the same hair as Nicholas now." Nicholas being an older boy who is a Junior Olympian swimmer. "It's that swimmer's hair thing."

Aha!

The boy has "swimmer's hair". It's totally fried by the chlorine and the sun. Apparently, it's a genuine phenomenon.

 

Jude, stubbornly refusing to pose, but clearly exhibiting "swimmer's hair".

Finally agreed to "pose" and this is what I got. Sigh...

 

On Sunday, Jude had a swim meet, and I started noticing other boys with the same bad hair. They were everywhere, especially the teenagers! I started to go around and take pictures of these boys for all of you to see, but suddenly realized that parents might object to my taking pictures of their sons in their Speedos and then posting them on the internet. But trust me, they were everywhere.

And a lot of these boys are amazing specimens of young manhood, especially the teenagers. I mean, really rather well put together. If you understand what I'm saying (trying to say this without sounding like a pathetic old cougar, because I'm not). But then on top of their heads is this shock of frizziness!

 

Random unknown swimmer I found on the internet, who illustrates what I'm saying. I apologize if you are his mother.

 

Even the big dudes have it...

 

Ryan Lochte. Oh my!

Phelps cuts his short, which seems to help, but he's still got it.

So does anybody have any ideas? Any miracle swimmer's hair cures? I just bought him some Anti-Chlorine shampoo, but haven't seen any results thus far.  I'm open to ideas!