Second Blooming

I Am Job

That's Job. With a long "o". Like the guy from the bible with all the troubles. Not a job. With a short"o". Like something you do for money. Though a job with a short "o" is involved. And I might be being slightly melodramatic. My trials and suffering over the last few days aren't actually biblical in proportion. Nobody is sick or dying, nobody's wife turned into salt. No wait...that was Lot. Now I'm getting my old testament analogies confused. Suffice it to say that the last few days have been a series of trials and tribulations. But I might just be whining.

The week started out pretty good. After a lovely Easter, we decided to take a two day car trip up the California coast to Cambria, a sweet little coastal town with an amazing coastline. We chose to take Jude's friend A.J. along with us, both so Jude would have more fun and so we would have more fun not having to entertain the 11-year old. 

Then...Jimmy's back went out. This happens periodically. He'll bend wrong or twist wrong and BAM, he's flat on his back with an icepack for a week. It's sad.

But that was workable. I could drive the boys myself. Just the three of us. I figured they'd hang out on the beach and try to make friends with sea lions, and I could do a little work on the computer.

Here's where the job with a short "o" comes in. I have this once-a-year job line producing a health fair. Glamorous, I know. Basically, I organize and assign and communicate with about 100 volunteers and 40 exhibitors. It's mostly a lot of emailing. Like...really a LOT of emailing. During this last week, I was getting upwards of 30 emails a day about this stuff. And the event was just a few days later, on Saturday. But I didn't think it would be a problem. The motel had wi-fi, and I could just hang out at night after the boys had gone to sleep and do my endless emailing.

So we drove the what the hotel said would be a three hour drive, which I assumed would be more like a four hour drive, but turned out to be like a five hour drive. Because it rained. It never rains in Southern California. Seriously, we're in the worst drought in history. So the rain is a good thing, but damn it, not when I'm driving two whining tweens on a road trip by myself. 

I feel that at this point I should point out an interesting new social phenomenon. Since the dawn of the automobile,  "Are we there yet???" has been the bane of every car tripping parent's existence. But now, with the dawn of GPS, they no longer ask "Are we there yet?". They look it up on their phones, then say things like "Dude! It's still twooooooooo more hours!" I can't decide if this is a good thing or a bad thing. But I digress...

We got to Moonstone Beach in Cambria and it's lovely. Really. 

And after I got the boys interested in nature...

...I went back to the motel to bang out a little work and damn if their wi-fi wasn't out. Well, not completely out. I could perch on the edge of the bed and lean out the window and get a bit. But it kept cutting out right in the middle of sending emails. After a while, I finally took my computer and wandered around the parking lot and found one spot where the connection was strong, then parked the car in that spot and managed to get some stuff done. But not much. So...I was concerned about the amount of work I had to do when I got home. This becomes more important as this rather long story goes on.

We had fun. Really. We toured Hearst Castle, which I highly recommend.

The boys were hearteningly interested in the history and architecture.

We watched a sunset.

Which the boys deemed "cool". Which is about as much excitement about nature as a tweenage boy can come up with. 

We looked at molting elephant seals.

Which was better than mating elephant seals, which apparently we would have seen if we'd arrived two weeks early. So that's a good thing.

And then we started the drive home. Which the motel said would be a three hour drive, but I figured would be more like a four hour drive and turned out to be...brace yourself...a seven hour drive. With the whiny tweens. This horror was caused by five things...

1. Traffic sucks.

2. Whiny tweens insist on stopping at every In-N-Out on the way.

3. I had to stop and make a phone call. Not just any phone call, but a ONE HOUR business conference call for the job with a short "o". I'd known about this call when I planned the trip, but had figured that I could take it while Jimmy was driving. But alas... So after loading the boys up with In-N-Out and plugging them into their electronic devices, I pulled off the highway into a small town, parked under a tree next to a cow pasture, fired up a personal hotspot on my phone, connected my computer and made my call. 

4. After finishing the call, I decided to use my GPS to get back to the freeway, and it took me FIFTEEN miles in the wrong direction before instructing me to "turn left" and then "turn left" which was essentially a U-turn and then it led me back to where I needed to be. So...about thirty minutes of wandering aimlessly on a small country road.

5. Traffic sucks.

By the time we dropped A.J. off and got home it was 8:00 pm. Oh my. 

Kindly, Jimmy had managed to order take out for us for dinner. However, in a very Jimmylike move, he had ordered me what he wanted for dinner, linguini with clam sauce, which I wasn't in the mood for at all, but I ate anyway, because it wasn't from In-N-Out.

I then tried to bang out some more emails, but was so tired that I kind of collapsed.

I woke up the next morning...with food poisoning. Clam sauce food poisoning. I know. You just went into a full body "ewwww" clench. I spent the entire day Friday communing with the toilet. Oh dear God.

But I had SO MUCH WORK I had to do, that I sat there on the floor of the bathroom with my computer next to me...sending emails to volunteers. Many, many emails. And drawing a diagram of the exhibitor table layout. Please feel sorry for me.

During all this, Jude was preparing to leave for a Boy Scout campout. He managed to pack himself (I say this but truly I don't have a clue what he put in that bag. It looked a little empty to me. I doubt very much that he had underwear. Or a toothbrush. Whatever.) A kind scout dad picked him up and whisked him off to his camp.

About three hours later, I got a panicked phone call from Jude. Somehow, I had failed to print out and send with him the medical release form he had to have in order to be allowed to stay at Boy Scout camp. That's right, without these forms...he had to GO HOME. Which meant I would have to drive to pick him up - three hours each way. Because I had by now stopped vomiting, but Jimmy's back was still so twisted that he couldn't sit in a car. I started to cry. Luckily...the wonderful scout dad who was with Jude talked the powers that be into allowing me to scan the medical form and email it to the director. But of course...I had failed to even fill out the medical form, much less have a doctor sign it. But after a hysterical thirty minutes spent filling in the lengthy form and having it signed by Dr. Gretchen's Left Hand, the boy was saved from leaving camp, and I was saved the drive.

I continued emailing, then went to sleep.

Saturday morning, I woke up at 6:30 am, took a shower, ate some saltines and drank water (the only sustenance I'd had for 24 hours, and started packing up the car for my big event for the job with a short "o". I could do it. I was weak and shaky, but I could do it. I am, after all, from hearty farm stock, people who traveled across America in a covered wagon. I could deal with car trips, and tweens, and lack of wi-fi, and traffic, and vomiting, and failed medical forms. 

I reached down and picked up a box of donated snacks I was hauling to my health fair and BANG. My back. Electric pain up and around my back. I dropped the box and froze. 

NO! NO! NO! I actually, really truly threw my arms up to heaven in a dramatic gesture and shouted (seriously, I fear my neighbors heard me) "NO GOD! I DO. NOT. HAVE. TIME. FOR. THIS!" Which was my version of a Job (with a long "o") moment. I took a deep breath, dragged that damned box to the car, drove to my event, and spent the next eight hours working my ass off.

The event went very well.

Is anybody still here? Because this is the longest damned post I have every written. "Helloooo?"

I went home after my event and collapsed. In bed. Icing my back and drinking Gatorade. And wine.

So...how was your week?

 

 

Jude and Gretchen's Big Luge Adventure Part 2

Oh no! I seem to have left y'all hanging for...1, 2, 3, 4...well, a long time. Sorry about that. We got back from our adventure and I crashed headlong into the Book Fair at Jude's school, which I run. Let's see, where was I?...

(To be read in a hushed, but urgent announcer voice)

When last we saw Gretchen and Jude, they were newly arrived in Park City, Utah, where Jude was about to begin his USA Luge Screening Camp. A snowstorm had hit the city, and Gretchen was tossing back wine to keep from panicking that she might drive her rented Chevy Tahoe into a snowbank. Jude was afraid of nothing, and eager to hit the ice. Will the boy triumph in his battle of boy vs. ice? Will Gretchen get it together and not go into a panic attack when next faced with snow driving? All this and more will be explained in the next episode of Jude and Gretchen's Big Luge Adventure!

(Okay, you can stop with the dramatic voice now.)

So...

Don't worry, after all this time I'm not going to put you all through a blow-by-blow recap. I think it can basically all be summed up by the following quote, spoken by Jude in the rental car on our drive back to the Salt Lake City Airport...

"These have been the best four days of my life."

Yep. That's it. The boy was in heaven from beginning to end.

 

What did I think of it all? I've never been so happy for him. And I've never been so proud of him. Not just because he performed well on the luge track. But also because he was so focused, and worked so hard, and because he was an all-around good guy and showed excellent sportsmanship.

 

Looking kinda studly, waiting for his turn to slide.

It's interesting and a little sad  - at Jude's school, he doesn't play any of the team sports that the other boys play - baseball, basketball, football, or soccer. He runs track and cross country, and he's a solid athlete, but he's not the big star. He's doing really well on his swim team, but only one kid from his school is on the team, so none of his friends ever witness his athletic achievements.

So it was really special to see him being recognized as a good athlete by a group of kids he'd never met before. He immediately excelled at this luge thing, and the other kids saw it, and treated him with respect. He was surrounded by fist bumps and "Way to go, Dude!"s. It was just so damned good for him, so empowering. And I'm proud to say, he was the only kid who waited after every one of his runs down the luge course and high-fived everybody who came after him. He just blew me away.

 

It was so cool seeing his name and "USA" on the scoreboard during every run.

And they were a great group of kids! All of them were so supportive of each other. I guess that they all knew it was a unique and possibly once-in-a-lifetime experience they were going through together. The parents were terrific too. I never once heard anybody bragging on their kid, or trash talking anybody else's.

 

I also have nothing but good to say about the USA Luge coaches and athletes. All of them were wonderful and absolutely inspiring, encouraging, and kind to these kids. ALL of the kids did well. Even those who weren't the most gifted lugers had a TON of fun. They were all having the time of their lives.

 

And...I must commend Jude on his committment to his schoolwork. He had to take four days off school, which didn't make his teachers particularly happy. Though I have to say that the nun who is his principal was thrilled for him, and heartily approved his absense, saying, and I quote..."It's a not-to-be-missed opportunity!" So every night, after all those hours on the ice, we'd go to dinner...

 

Jude eating a dessert that was, literally, the size of his head. Because he deserved it, damn it.

 

...then we'd go back to the hotel and he'd do his schoolwork, which his friends texted to him every day...

 

 

He had two tests on the day we got back from Park City, Language Arts and Pre-Algebra. He studied the whole way back in the car and on the plane. The results? Pre-Algebra - 97. Language Arts - 100. Woohoo!

Okay, I will stop bragging on the boy. But seriously, I am just so IMPRESSED by him. I mean, he's NEVER been this focused, or worked so hard. Okay, I will stop bragging on the boy.

It was all just very good.

Are you ready to see some luging? Here we go. A quick glimpse of him rounding Curve 12 -

 

 

Whoosh!

And here's one of his runs captured on the kind of rickety track video...

 

So what's next? Probably nothing. They have five of these screenings, most in Lake Placid, NY. After which a handful of kids will be asked to join the Junior Development Team, or "D" Team as they call it. Will Jude be asked? Maybe. He was very good. But there were several others who were stand outs as well. He gets it, and is prepared in case of disappointment. And seriously, what the hell would we do if he got picked? Move to Utah? Not happening, I'm afraid. But for now I'm just excited and proud of him.

Okay, that's it. Much fun was had by all. Wish the boy luck! And good luck to all the other kids at his camp, they all worked their little butts off.

Jude and Gretchen's Big Luge Adventure Part 1

Do y'all remember back in the summer when I wrote THIS POST all about how Jude took part in the USA Luge Team's Slider Search? Well if you don't, you're gonna want to go read it or you're not going to understand what I'm about to say, and I'm too tired to rewrite all the details.

So really, go read it now.

Are you back? Did you really go read it? Sigh...

Okay, so...

A couple of months ago, we got this email...

Congratulations! On behalf of USA Luge, I would like to extend an invitation to you to participate
in a luge screening camp this coming winter. Screening camps are the next step in the
USA Luge athlete identification program and are designed to give participants a “total immersion” experience into the sport by “sliding” on the real luge run on ice.

That's right! He made the cut!

So today we were off!

LA to Salt Lake City...

...where I rented the sturdiest vehicle I could, this massive four-wheel drive Chevy Tahoe. We climbed up into the thing and Jude found what he thought for sure was a hairbrush...

Ha!

The California Kid had never seen a snow scraper brush before!

So we fired up the GPS and headed out into...

EEK!

That's right, a snowstorm. Texas/Los Angeles Mama here driving in a snowstorm. I was such a ninny. Jude kept saying "Go faster, Mom!" but I stubbornly crept along. I'm SO glad that I upgraded to the massive vehicle. At one point I realized that I could possibly relax a little when locals in their Toyota Tercels and such were whizzing past us, but I swear to God, by the time we finally got to the hotel, my hands were slightly numb from gripping the steering wheel. I'm such an old woman.

We did, however, arrive safely at the hotel...

You're going to get tired of these selfies soon, right?

Tonight we had a meeting at the Utah Olympic Park with the West Coast USA Luge coach and the other participants - 12 kids, all from California. The park is about a 5 mile drive from our hotel, much of it a bit off the beaten track. As we were heading up there IN THE DARK...IN A SNOWSTORM...our big vehicle kept sliding around all over the place until I finally stopped and figured out...I wasn't in 4-wheel drive. Duh! After switching it into 4-wheel we were in good shape. But still, after finally getting back to the hotel, we headed straight to the restaurant and Mama tossed back two glasses of wine.

Tomorrow will be much better - the snow is stopping and the sun will be out. And Jude will be ON THE ICE! He's very excited. Wish us both luck. I'll check in in a couple of days!

 

Catching Up

Well hello.

I don't seem to have been paying much attention to y'all lately, have I? I'm so sorry. I think about y'all all the time, but I just haven't been able to sit down and write anything.

It's funny, the other day I was telling my friend Melissa that despite the fact that I hadn't seen her in months, I felt like I had because I often talk to her INSIDE MY HEAD. I could pick up a phone and call her and actually tell her things, but instead I have long conversations with her INSIDE MY HEAD. She was happy to hear that she's very witty and charming INSIDE MY HEAD, and I love that she always laughs and laughs at my jokes and wholly appreciates what I'm sharing with her. INSIDE MY HEAD.

And that's just where I've been blogging lately. INSIDE MY HEAD. I have written, maybe...15 posts. INSIDE MY HEAD. Trust me, they were all very witty, and clever, and you all loved them all. INSIDE MY HEAD.

But now we are OUTSIDE MY HEAD, so I will try to catch you up a bit on Christmastide in Second Blooming world.

It rained. Finally. Y'all have to understand that we are in a serious drought out here on the west coast. It hadn't rained in moooooonths. So rain was good. What was weird was the way our 100-year old house reacted. About six months ago, the bathroom door stopped closing. The old house had shifted and the door suddenly didn't fit the frame anymore. We had somebody look at it, but he said he was worried about changing anything because it was likely to shift back, and if he messed with it, he'd ruin it. Well guess what? After the rains, the bathroom door now closes perfectly. But now the FRONT door isn't working. It's better now, but for about three days, the only way we could get in or out of our front door was for me to perform what Jude called a "This is Sparta!" on the door. Much like this...

 

 

It really was much like that. Only the role of the Spartan dude in the skirt was played by a middle-aged woman in yoga pants and Uggs. Me. I can't imagine what the neighbors thought. Jude LOVED it! He thought I was a read bad ass.

Jude is, sadly, no longer a believer. And in true Judelike fashion, he was in no way angry that we had deceived him Santa-wise, he was only worried that he had ruined Christmas for me. Because he knew how much I loved the whole Santa business. Sweet boy. So when it came time for him to write his letter to Santa (or letter to "Santa" as he now says with air quotes), he balked, and said he really didn't want anything. After much needling, I discovered that the problem was that he had suddenly realized that Jimmy and I pay for his Christmas presents. All this time he'd been thinking it came for free from the North Pole. How much do I love my kid? So I had to go kind of off-letter this year to figure out what he really wanted. I knew he desperately wanted a gaming computer, but sadly, they are a bit pricey. Then...a high school-aged friend of Jude's told me about...Zee. Zee is a computer geek dude who rebuilds computers and beefs them up with lots of RAM and...video card thingies (okay, clearly I don't have a clue here, it's all very technical and...stuff), and sells them to gamers on the cheap.

So I email this Zee, and he told me he could hook me up with just what Jude needed. All I had to do was drive down and pick up the computer in (cue the ominous dum-dum-dum-dum music)...Bellflower, California. Beautiful Bellflower is a wasteland of stripmalls and factories and storage units situated in the armpit of the 605 and the 91 freeways. Let's say it's in Southeast Hell. Zee then texted me this picture so I could find the building...

I swear to God, this is the place. The things we do for our kids.

Luckily, I did not get sold into white slavery, and Zee turned out to be a righteous dude. He set us up with this baby...

This picture doesn't do it justice - the monitor is massive!

The boy is in heaven. He gave me a hug that would be worth driving to Southeast Hell and back every day.

I managed to avoid a Great Teacher Gift Debacle again this year! See previous disasters HERE and HERE. Nosireebob, I have learned from my mistakes. This year, I found something quick and easy and usable, that has a long shelf-life. Just what I needed. I combined a couple of recipes and this is what I came up with. You should save this recipe for next year...

Rosemary Sea Salt

1 3-lb. box kosher salt

2 bunches fresh rosemary (destemmed)

Finely chop the rosemary. Place salt and rosemary in a large pot, and heat over medium heat, stirring often, until it's heated through - about 10 minutes. Pour into a large bowl to cool. Add to wide-mouthed half-pint Mason jars and seal.

Made 11 half-pint jars. Weird amount I know.

My favorite Mondegreen of late...

Jude asked me why there was a Christmas song about "Korean eyes". After puzzling for a bit, I figured out what he was talking about and explained that the line in "Winter Wonderland" is "It will really be like a picture print from Currier and Ives" not..."Korean eyes".

It reminded me that I spent much of my childhood thinking there was a country called Orientare. As in "We three kings of Orientare."

Maybe folks from Orientare have Korean eyes

Well there you have it. Words have appeared OUTSIDE MY HEAD. In the next couple of days I'll be back with my Feast of the Seven Fishes menu for this year. It was goooood (if I do say so myself).

Merry Christmas, y'all!

 

Almost not bad picture of us if Jude had just stopped moving. Thank you Aida.

Another Thanksgiving in Bullet Points

• Best turkey ever. Seriously. For several years now, I've been brining my turkey using THIS recipe from Alice Waters. And it's been damned good. But this year, I decided to try something new and went DRY brine. Oh yeah. I used this recipe from good ole Southern Living Magazine. It was super simple and MUCH less messy than the wet brine. And the turkey was moist and yummy.

 Herbed Dry Brine for Turkey

3 tbsp. kosher salt

3 tbsp. dark brown sugar

2 tsp. rubbed sage

2 tsp. dried thyme

1 1/2 tsp. freshly ground black pepper

1 tsp. garlic powder

Stir all this together. Pat the turkey dry. Sprinkle 1 tbsp. brine into the cavity of the turkey. Reserve another tbsp. brine for later. Sprinkle the rest all over the turkey, rubbing it into the skin. Cover and chill the big bird for 10 to 24 hours.

When you're ready to roast, rinse the brine off the turkey and pat dry again. Then mix the reserved tbsp. of brine with 1/2 cup of softened butter. Loosen the skin over the turkey breast and spread the butter under the skin over the breast. Oh YES! Amazing!

Then just roast it the way you like to do.

• JUDE ATE SOMETHING GREEN! Spinach, no less! My best friend Kaysie's family always makes Spinach Madeline for holiday meals, and I decided to haul it out this year. I must admit that it's possibly the least healthful vegetable recipe imaginable, right up there with that Bloomin' Onion from the Outback. But he not only ate it, he gobbled it up and asked for SECONDS! Here's the recipe that Kaysie gave me long ago, but I'm afraid that the Jalapeno Cheese stuff can't be located anywhere, so you should substitute Velveeta and some Pepper cheese grated together. I'm thinking you could put in whatever kind of cheese you want, but don't try to make it too healthful or you're defeating the purpose.

Kaysie's Spinach Madeline

2 pkg. frozen chopped spinach (boiled and squeezed very dry - reserve 1/2 cup of liquor)

4 tbsp. (1/4 cup) butter

2 tbsp. minced onion

2 tbsp. flour

1/2 cup evaporated milk

1/2 cup reserved spinach liquor

1/2 tsp. salt

1/2 tsp. pepper

6 oz. Kraft Jalapeno cheese roll (or Velveeta or Pepper Jack) - cut up or grated

1 tsp. Worcestershire sauce

3/4 tsp. garlic powder

1/2 cup bread crumbs

Melt the butter and saute the onions. Stir in flour to make a roux. Add evaporated milk and spinach liquor and cook until thickened. Add salt and pepper. Add cheese a bit at a time, stirring each addition until it melts before adding more. Add the Worcestershire and garlic powder and spinach. Transfer to a baking pan. Top with bread crumbs. Bake at 350 degrees until it bubbles around the edges, about 30 minutes. Sit in shock as your vegetable-hating child asks for seconds!

• I'm thinking that next year I'm going to find a folding table to set up on the side of the dining room and just go buffet. It's the same problem every year, there's too much food on too many large serving dishes that don't all fit on the table and are too hot and/or heavy to pass. I think it would be easier if we all just got up and helped ourselves. And that way the kids could grab their own food without their parents having to wait on them. Somebody (mmm...Lynn) needs to remind me of this next year!
• Best Thanksgiving purchase - a Girlmade Apple Pie. I am a total snob about store-bought desserts. As in...I won't allow them at my dinner table. I either make it myself or we don't eat it. However...this year I made a slight exception. Jude's school is very involved in do-gooding, and every year each class does an Adopt-a-Family thing. The kids all come up with ideas to raise money for their family. Six little girls in Jude's class got together and offered homemade apple pies, which they took preorders for and then handed out in the carline at school. Those little girls worked themselves silly and damn if that pie wasn't delicious!

• This last Friday after Thanksgiving was possibly the laziest day that our family has ever experienced. Jimmy stayed in bed all day. Really. All. Day. And Jude and I sat on the couch and played video games and ate leftovers until I finally decided that we had to do something productive. So we went and got ice cream. Yes, productive is a relative thing. We then curled back up on the couch with MORE leftovers and watched a double feature - The Princess Bride, followed by Spaceballs. A Sillyathon. Next year we need to add some Monty Python. I am proud to say that Jude is now walking around saying things like "Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.", "Inconceivable!" and "May the Schwartz be with you."

Jude, eating ice cream at Scoops, our favorite neighborhood ice cream parlor. Please notice that Jude is dressed only because these are the clothes he wore in Thanksgiving night and he SLEPT IN THEM.

• Best leftover repurposing of the year. I made Aimee's Roasted Sweet Potatoes with Onions recipe again - delicious as always. But by Sunday we were totally OVER the whole leftover thing, so I had to get creative. So I sauteed a mess of kale (That's a Texanism - "a mess". It's a vague measurement that approximately equals "a buttload".), tossed in the leftover sweet potatoes and onions, added olive oil and a half a pound of cooked pasta, then sprinkled it with freshly grated Parmesan and YUM!

Okey dokey, that's all for Thanksgiving. I am proud of myself for not veering too far off my diet and leftovering myself back into my fat pants and for managing to get to the gym twice during the Thanksgiving weekend.

How were your Thanksgivings?

Perspective

Oh man, it has just been one of those weeks. Nothing really bad has happened. No big tragedies or unconquerable crises. I have no excuse for my ennui.

I've just been feeling constantly overwhelmed with responsibility. All I want to do is write and go to the gym and be alone. But everybody wants something out of me. And by everybody I mean my husband and child. They keep making me do responsible mom stuff like cleaning the house and providing food for them and driving them where they need to be. Damn it. I keep trying to be selfish, and they just won't let me.

I'm tired, damn it. Do y'all get like this? Is it a mother thing? This overwhelming feeling that everybody and everything is just dragging you down? Like you just want to go off by yourself and live in a cabin in the woods for a week? A cabin in the woods with wifi and Netflix?

So that's how I've been feeling. And then as a capper to the week...

Saturday night, Jude had a friend over for a sleepover. I fed them dinner, made a bed for them in the living room in front of the tv, took a nice hot bath with a glass of wine, and got into bed with Jimmy to watch a spooky movie while the boys hung out doing tweeny things. I soon fell asleep.

About 11:00, I was awakened by a strange shlooping sound, followed by Jimmy saying "Oh no, kid! You okay?"

Jude's little friend had somehow vomited all over our house. Okay, that might be a minor exaggeration, but really, mmmm...not so much. He had tried to run into the bathroom, but hadn't made it, and had proceeded to vomit all over the hallway outside out bedroom and the bathroom. He then walked throoooooough the vomit and into the bathroom, thus spreading vomit all over the bathroom. And himself.

In order for me to get out of our bedroom and help this child, my choices were...1. walk through the vomit in my bare feet or 2...okay, there was no second choice.

So I waded through another person's child's vomit, then ministered to this poor vomiting child. Then I had to wade back through the vomit and do this weird thing wherein I stood my vomit-covered bare feet on a dirty towel and shuffled into the kitchen without tracking vomit everywhere, so I could wash my feet in the sink and then find cleaning supplies to clean up the puddle of vomit.

It was while I was in the kitchen that the vomiting child decided to walk back through the puddle of vomit so he could lie down on the bed I had made for them in the living room. I managed to stop him and strip his feet of his vomit-soaked socks before he had covered the rest of the house in vomity footprints. I swear, I was spraying this kids feet with Windex.

I then, after calling the poor sick boy's poor mother, who was trying very hard to enjoy a night out at a party, proceeded to spend the next 45 minutes cleaning up about a gallon of vomit. I swear to God, it was like The Exorcist or something. It was everywhere - the floor, the walls, the rug. I went through an entire roll of paper towels. I did Pinesol, Lysol - all the 'sols. I then moved on to the bleach. I guess I went a little crazy with the cleaning products.

Finally, after the poor guy's mom got there and took him home, and I felt that the vomit removal was complete, and I scrubbed myself into the bathtub, stripped off my vomit-ridden nightgown, and collapsed. When I was finally able to go to bed at about 12:30, I was completely unable to sleep - I kept having these weird vomit dreams. Oh dear God.

And where were Jimmy and Jude during the vomit-a-thon? Hiding. Jude was hiding in his room, ignoring his poor sick friend, and Jimmy was in the bed with...I swear to God...the covers over his head.

I woke up this morning feeling SO overwhelmed and exhausted. Was there anybody else who needed me to take care of them? Because I just didn't think I could, I didn't think I had it in me.

Then I read this blog by my friend Elizabeth about a particularly difficult time she's having with her special needs daughter, and I just smacked myself in the head."Oh good Lord, Gretchen, get over it! Pull your head out of your butt and get over it! Your family is healthy. Nothing in your life is insurmountable. Vomit is easily cleaned. Yes, your people need you, but you wouldn't want it any other way, so stop whining."

And Jimmy was so grateful and ashamed that I cleaned up all that vomit while he hid, that he gave me a nice foot massage.

So...how was your week?

Spin Cycle: The Greater Good

I used to always hate it that my Mama was such a damned martyr.

"No, no, I'll just eat the heel of the loaf of bread. That's good enough for me."

"No, no, I don't need a new winter coat. I can still get a few years out of this old one."

Grrr. Stand up for yourself Mama!

"Mother! I don't need three new sweaters. Why don't I just get two, and then you can get a new sweater too."

"No, no. No one's looking at me, you get the three new sweaters, I'll just wear what I have."

And of course I accepted the three new sweaters, because I was a selfish girl. And liked the idea that people were looking at me.

So the other day when I found myself deciding that Jude needed a new pair of sneakers, but I could make do with the old pair I've been running in for the past four years I suddenly thought, "oh dear God, have I become my mother?"

I do always eat that one sad, burnt pancake while everyone else gets the nicely browned ones. And the other night I did forgo my beloved choir rehearsal because I got stuck with Jude at his cross country meet. And when Jimmy and I split a dessert when we went out to dinner, I let him order the Devil's Food cake instead of the Brownie with the Vanilla Ice Cream and Salted Caramel Sauce because he REALLY loves chocolate, and I'll eat pretty much everything. Oh no! I have become...a martyr like Mama!

But...but...but...I don't mind the burnt pancake and I hate to be wasteful. And I don't really need a new pair of running shoes (well okay, I guess need is a relative term). And Jimmy so very much loves his chocolate. I don't feel like a martyr. I feel like I just do what I've gotta do to make our world run smoothly. I feel that I just look beyond my personal needs at the bigger picture of our lives, and make sacrifices for the greater good. Could it be that Mama was never a martyr but was simply...a mother?

I remember my 41 years of childlessness when I put myself first pretty much always. I mean, I guess I was kind to people, and did loving things for Jimmy. But I spent a lot of time thinking about me, me, me. I clearly remember my horror whenever I was forced to do something as dreadful as miss out on my full 8 hours of sleep. God forbid! How dare they interupt my sleep? How was I to function with out my beauty rest?

Every year, I used to worry and fret about what to do for my birthday. Major energy was spent contemplating this subject. It was my very special day, after all. Should I have a party for myself? Perhaps my friends could all take me out to dinner? How was I to get home with all my gifts? Now, if Jimmy makes me breakfast and I get a bunch of birthday wishes on Facebook, I'm happy as a clam.

When you have a family, everything is suddenly thrown into perspective. The littler person really IS more important. Their needs really DO come first. The people in our worlds really do need us to be there for them. When I look at the big picture of my world, the burnt pancake is just not important.

I often think of a phenomenon that inside my brain I call the "Oprahfication" of America. At some point, and I think it was timely and important when it happened, women started demanding "What about me?!" And everybody wanted to find their bliss or whatever. But as empowering as it was meant to be, I think it's just gone too far.

I have friends who left their husband of many years, because they were bored. Not that their husbands were abusive, or crazy, or addicts or miserable fathers. They were simply bored, and thought they deserved happiness. Puleeze. So they broke up their families, screwing up their children beyond repair, only to eventually find out that happiness isn't something you find, it's what you make out of what you have. And who says we're all supposed to be happy all the time anyway? What does that even mean? 

I do feel that I need to qualify this long diatribe by admitting that my life has not been like everyone's. There are many women out there who have never put themselves first, who have spent their entire lives catering to and kowtowing to the men in their lives. And probably for them, some serious "What about me"ing is a healthy thing.

And I also want to make clear that mom isn't the only person in the family who needs to be looking at the big picture. As my mother-in-law constantly reminds my father-in-law, "a happy wife is a happy life". So for the greater good, a certain amount of pampering and me-time for mom is important.

But I find that nowadays, though I almost never get my full eight hours of beauty rest, and I seldom if ever experience anything close to "bliss", I find happiness in places and ways that I never imagined. Like the look on my kid's face after he's done really well at a swim meet for which I got only 5 hours of sleep and drove an hour and sat in the sun on a metal bench for 4 hours. Or the sound of my husband nom-nom-noming on his Devil's Food Cake instead of the Brownie with Vanilla Ice Cream and Salted Caramel Sauce which still sounds so damned good that I...but I digress.

When we mothers put others first, is that sacrifice or martyrdom or is it just TCB? Facilitating the world around us so that things run smoothly? And you know what? Serving the greater good makes me happy. There, I said it.

Oh, and Mama? I get it now. Thank you for the sweaters. Though I still wish you'd bought yourself a new winter coat.

_____________________________________

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Camp Mama 2014 Weeks Eight and Nine: Sigh...

Sigh...

I'm afraid I have been strangely silent during these last two weeks of Camp Mama when we were on our annual trip to New York. Usually I have a plethora of crazy but charming stories about my wacky in-laws - I know that all of you want to know what's up with Mommy. But this year I just didn't have much to say. I mean, we did lots of fun activities, and had some meaningful family time. But overall? The trip was extremely stressful and disappointing and...not fun. And why was it stressful and disappointing and...not fun? It was because of Mommy. There, I said it.

Mommy has just not been herself. Or actually, she has been herself times 200. You all know how much I adore my precious 85-year old mother-in-law. And I've told many stories about her neuroses and "Mommyisms". But over the last year, her fears and phobias have grown and amplified and festered to the point that it's incredibly difficult to be around her. And I'm very worried for her well-being and that of those around her.

I've mentioned before that Mommy fell down about a year ago. She was incredibly lucky that it didn't cause any physical injuries - no broken bones, no concussion. But the mental damage was huge - she's become so afraid of falling and embarrassing herself again, that she has become agoraphobic. She's afraid to go anywhere or do anything. And what's more, she doesn't have a moment of peace (nor does anyone around her) if anybody ELSE goes anywhere or does anything. She's only okay if everyone is home doing nothing. Which doesn't make for much of a vacation. Especially if you are 11.

She's terrible to Pop and poor Aunt Grace, who is so worried about her that she spends most of her time on Long Island helping, but is constantly yelled at and criticized. And Mommy is so irrational and illogical about her fears that you can't argue with her. First she will complain and moan about how nobody wants to do anything with her and she never goes anywhere - she actually, seriously said "I guess nobody loves me anymore!". But then when we would try (and try and try and try) to get her to come with us someplace or take her somewhere or do something all together, she would refuse, and come up with the most ridiculous excuses. "No, no, I have to...make the eggplant." "But Mommy, we're not eating the eggplant for two more days.Why don't we take you to the beach, it will be fun." "No, no, I can't." And then her voice would start to rise to a shrill level and pretty soon she was shouting things like "Nobody understands what it's like for me!" and her constant mantra "Nobody listens to meeeee!!!" Which is true, because so much of what she says is irrational.

You have to understand that is is NOT LIKE MOMMY! She's always been the MOST loving and embracing woman in the world, and the BEST mother-in-law ever. Her neuroses have been...cute and charming. So this is all very worrisome.

We tried. We really did. I cooked and cleaned for her as much as possible. We cut down on the number of activities we did and stayed home with her. But she didn't make it easy. One day we were home and a bored-out-of-his-mind Jude asked if we could please go and do something. When I suggested that he go in and spend some time with Grandma, he turned to me and said, not in a snotty way, just being honest, "What should I do with her? Just follow her around and watch her clean?" And that kind of summed it up. He could spend time with Grandpa - watch a baseball game on tv, watch one of Pop's old movies ("That Alan Ladd was some actor, kid."), or go for a ride to the "candy store" to buy the Lotto tickets. But what could he do with Grandma? She doesn't do anything.

So this made for a sad trip. But we did manage to have some fun times. Namely...

We managed to get Mommy out of the house a few times for dinners.

Aunt Grace, Niki and a very glamorous Mommy out for her birthday dinner.

Picture of us on the same evening. We clean up pretty well.

Jude, Mommy and Cousin Matthew at Hoy Ming for Chinese food.

Cousin love!

We had a great day kayaking at our friends Bob and Beverly's house on Oak Island...

Actually, Bob, Jude and I kayaked. Jimmy sat on the deck and worried about bugs.

And we always, always have a great time with our friends who live up the street - Ray, Jenny and Mia.

Friends and Sushi

Jude and I drove with them into Brooklyn to Coney Island...

Cyclone - best roller coaster on the planet.

Ray, Jenny, and me after we dumped the kids and went to Ruby's for beer.

And we loved that we just happened to be in town for the birth of Jude's newest cousin, Benjamin, and were able to make his bris...

Jude and Benjamin, who looks pretty relaxed despite having just gone through a traumatic experience.

It's interesting, when I talk to Mommy on the phone across the country, she's very different. I don't know if it's that the safety of distance keeps her from fretting about us too much or if she just puts on a sunny disposition for the phone. I was talking to her on the phone today, and she started sounding bad again - that weird tremor came into her voice. And we had a pretty frank and open conversation. I told her that I was worried about her, and actually used the word "agoraphobic" and she...agreed with me! I'm hoping she talks about all of this with her doctor soon, she said she would.

I would appreciate it if all of you would keep her in your thoughts and prayers. She's too wonderful of a human being to spend her golden years in a panic.

I did find one thing that made her VERY happy...

Yes, this is already in a frame and on the wall of Mommy's den!

This is, of course, right where Mommy wants Jude all the time. By her side.

 

Spin Cycle: Just Me and My Siri

GRETCHEN

Hi Siri.

SIRI

Hello there, Queen Gretchen.

GRETCHEN

Whatcha doing?

SIRI

I'm learning some new tricks.

GRETCHEN

Cool.

SIRI

I've always wanted to be cool.

GRETCHEN

Mmm...I guess I'm a little lonely.

SIRI

I'm sorry to hear that. You can always talk to me, Queen Gretchen.

GRETCHEN

Thank you Siri, that's very kind.

SIRI

Don't mention it.

GRETCHEN

I guess I'm just lonely because today's the first day of sixth grade

for Jude, and when I picked him up after school I thought we'd

go get pizza as a treat. That's one of our "things", you know,

going and getting a treat on the first day of school. I thought

we'd get pizza.

SIRI

I found quite a few pizza restaurants...eleven of them are fairly

close to you. I've sorted them by rating...

GRETCHEN

No, thank you. It's just that when we were on the way to the pizza place,

we drove past a group of kids from Jude's school, and they all started calling

out "Jude! Jude! Come with us! We're going to get pizza!" So I pulled

over and Jude jumped out and went off for pizza with his friends.

Instead of me.

SIRI

I found quite a few pizza restaurants...eleven of them are fairly

close to you. I've sorted them by rating.

GRETCHEN

And then he ran back to the car for a second, and I thought "Aww...

he wants to go with me!" but all he wanted was money.

SIRI

I found quite a few pizza restaurants...eleven of them are fairly

close to you. I've sorted them by rating.

GRETCHEN

Stop saying that Siri. That's not helpful.

SIRI

Sorry, Queen Gretchen. I'm not sure I understand.

GRETCHEN

Neither do I. I guess he's suddenly at that age when

he'd rather do things with his friends than with his mom.

SIRI

Let me think about that...OK, here's what I found on the web for

"age when he'd rather do things with his friends than his mom".

GRETCHEN

I mean...is this it? Is this when he suddenly...

grows up? Has it happened?

SIRI

Hmm...let me think...Here's what I found on the web for "I mean is this

is this when he suddenly grows up has it happened"...

GRETCHEN

I know it's normal for him to want to be with his friends instead of

me. But he didn't even look back, you know? He just took the cash

and ran off with the pack of kids, laughing.

And it was our "thing", you know? So now I'm a little sad.

SIRI

I don't understand what this means.

GRETCHEN

That's okay, Siri, I do. I know what it means.

But I really did want a slice of pizza.

SIRI

I found quite a few pizza restaurants...eleven of them are fairly

close to you. I've sorted them by rating.

GRETCHEN

Thank you Siri, that was actually quite helpful.

SIRI

My pleasure. As always, Queen Gretchen.

 GRETCHEN

You wouldn't leave me and go off with your friends, would you Siri?

SIRI

That doesn't sound good.

GRETCHEN

You still need me, don't you Siri?

SIRI

If you say so...

GRETCHEN

Would you like to go with me for a slice of pizza?

SIRI

This is about you, Queen Gretchen, not me.

 GRETCHEN

Okay, Siri. Let's go for pizza, just you and me.

SIRI

Searching for directions...

 __________________________________

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Spin Cycle: I ♥ New York

I think that I'm a New Yorker at heart.

Bold statement, I know. Because I've always been very proud to be a Texan. And I've been living in Los Angeles for more than 20 years. But I really should have been a New Yorker. The Big Apple. Gotham. It's my happy place. I step onto the sidewalk and my heart lightens. I love the smell and the pulse and the excitement and the energy.

When I was a girl, my daddy's brother, Uncle Francis, lived there. 210 W. 70th St., Apt. 312, New York, New York, 10023. I still remember his address. Uncle Francis was an old bachelor (which means gay, but nobody in the family ever mentioned it), who was a musician and opera singer, who taught voice from his apartment. Uncle Francis would come to visit us every year, and bring me presents from the big city -  special candies that came in a little metal tin, fancy lavender "toilette water", Twinings tea which was only available in the US at the time in tea shops in New York. It was all so...sophisticated and special.

Later, my best friend Kaysie's sister, Helen, moved to NYC, and we loved to sit and listen to her regale us with tales of the city - theater, ballet, museums, literature - it was everything I wanted in my life.

Alas, I never moved there. Why? Hmmm. I guess fear. And fate. When my friends and I left the University of Texas theater department, everybody had an option of where to go, New York or Los Angeles. Or some place for grad school. I chose...Dallas. Huh? In retrospect this baffles me. My thought was that I would model and get some acting work on my resume before moving to a bigger pond. Which worked for me really, I had a decent resume under my belt before moving to LA. And I'm probably more of a film/television actress than a theater actress. But I think a big reason I stayed so close to home is that Daddy was getting so old, and I wanted to be nearby if he got sick.

But I often think about what my life would have been like if I'd moved straight to New York. Found an apartment and a waitressing job. I could have modeled there. Pounded the pavement instead of driving the freeways.

I am very lucky that I am now able to visit New York every year, even if the majority of my time is spent on Long Island with the in-laws. I'm even more fortunate to have Aunt Grace's apartment to stay in while there - it's like having a free luxury hotel at your fingertips.

View from Aunt Grace's terrace.

This visit, I've managed to get into "The City" (as the in-laws call it) twice. Jimmy hasn't been able to make the train trip because he's still weak from his hospital stay.

My old friend from college, Kevin Adams, is a brilliant lighting designer, who just won his THIRD Tony Award for designing Hedwig and the Angry Inch, which is currently on Broadway. Because Kevin is incredibly kind and cool, he got me his house seats for the show just two nights before the end of Neal Patrick Harris's run in the show (Andrew Rannells from The Book of Mormon and tvs Girls is taking over the role). My s-i-l Niki came with me, and we had an amazing time! The seats were PHENOMENAL - dead center, about 8 rows back. And NPH absolutely blew me away!

Then, Jude and I made our way into the city again this week, to meet up with my old college friends and have some fun. My college roommate, Lannyl, and her family live on the Upper West Side, and Jude loves hanging out with her teenage kids, who are older and cooler than he is.

On our way into NYC. Look at the lines on my forehead starting to relax!

We spent the afternoon strolling Central Park, and Jude finally got to visit Strawberry Fields, the area of Central Park dedicated to the memory of John Lennon...

...then Lannyl drove us up to the far north end of Manhattan for her daughter's rowing club practice. Amazingly, Lannyl (and this is SO Texan of her) drives an SUV around Manhattan. You have to understand that virtually nobody DRIVES in Manhattan, it's all public transport. But Lannyl has made it an artform, and drives her two kids around to all their activities every day.

This a genuine shot of Lannyl putting on makeup and texting and driving around Manhattan all at the same time. So impressive.

Then, that night, we left Jude with the teenagers to eat NY Chinese takeout and play a Game of Thrones board game (Jude was in hog heaven), and we headed out to meet other old friends from college at THE COOLEST RESTAURANT I'VE EVER BEEN TO IN MY LIFE. Seriously. It was the restaurant/bar at the top of The Standard Hotel down in the Meatpacking District, fittingly called The Top of the Standard. The incredibly gorgeous and well-dressed hostess seated us, and we both just sat there with our mouths open, stunned by the view...

View from our table. Stunning.

The place had a leather banquettes arranged stadium seating style, so every table area had this view, along with a jazz band that played Gershwin and Cole Porter, and de-lish cocktails. The place was the epitome of New York sophistication and style. I was just so happy. Why can't life be like this all the time? Okay, it cost a hell of a lot, but still...

Shannon, Me, Lannyl, Kim. This photo is deceptive, because of the flash, it was actually very dark and candlelit.

This is more what it looked like.

But the best part of the place? The freaking bathrooms. Crazy. I asked the hostess where the bathroom was, and she pointed down a dark, candlelit hallway. I wandered along until I came to a series of doors. When I opened a door, I walked into a dark, candlelit bathroom and was greeted by this view...

I swear to God, this was the view from the toilet. No modesty allowed.

The entire wall of the bathroom was glass! I'm assuming that it was so incredibly dark in there so you weren't giving all of Manhattan a peep show!

The next morning, Jude and I took the subway back up to the Boathouse in Central Park and rented a rowboat...

Like something in a movie.

As I was leaning back, allowing my kid to row me around this beautiful place, I suddenly thought "I am happy." Which doesn't happen for me that often. I mean, I guess I'm generally a happy person, but I don't usually think "Wow. At this moment, I am really happy." But I was.

Will I ever get the opportunity to live in New York? I doubt it. How would we do that? Move across the country? Dislodge Jude from his friends?

Maybe when I'm old and gray, and Jude has gone off the college, Jimmy and I will make the move. I could become one of those terribly chic old ladies with a gray, bobbed haircut, and large black or red eyeglasses, who has season tickets to the opera and the ballet and has tea at The Plaza and lunch at The Russian Tearoom. And I can send my grandchildren fancy candies in little metal tins and lavender toilette water. Anybody want to come visit me? We can take in the Metropolitan Museum and have a martini at their rooftop martini bar. Who's in?

_______________________________

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