..but holy crap I am home and I am inspired.

Happy Birthday SG!  I wish this woman a happy birthday every year.  While I have never met her, she saved my spirit.  At this point you may think that I am crazy so I will start from the beginning...

In 1985, I was in the second half of the 7th grade.  It was really bad.  My family had moved during the previous summer (from a smaller school) and transitioning to a new school was the hardest experience that I have ever been through.  (Yes, I am comparing my entire life to this time..nothing has ever been as hard as 84-85.)  I was 12, very awkward and uncomfortable in my own skin.  I felt socially stunted and academically, I was struggling.  It was very hard to get up in the morning and move forward.  Nothing inspired me.  This was a time when the prominent female figures were Mary Lou Retton, Sally Field, Cyndi Lauper and Geraldine Ferraro..and nothing.

During the Monday night of my February vacation, I settled in to watch some television.  My station of choice was CBS--this was an era when you didn't channel surf.  Starting at 8:00, I watched Scarecrow and Mrs King (meh), Kate and Allie (Kate was cool..Allie was a dud) and Newhart.  The last show almost made me go to bed..it was funny but incredibly sedate.   I was half asleep when the last show starts but as soon as it does, I am wide awake.  I am not sure if it was the story line or the timber of her voice but holy crap I am home and I am inspired.

Cagney and Lacey was the show that made me sit up.  (In a nutshell for the young people, it was a show focused on two female detectives in Manhattan.) Specifically, it was the character of Christine Cagney (portrayed by Sharon Gless) that got my attention.   In a matter of minutes, I wanted to be Christine.  She was very smart, funny, sarcastic, mean and so flawed but I felt like she was me.  And I was her.  This wasn't a Lifetime movie, this woman had issues all over the place.  During the entire series, she had a boyfriend who was a druggie, was sexually harassed at work, shot, raped (not at the same time) and had a drinking problem.  But regardless, she inspired me.

It did get weird.  Back then there was no Internet so I squirrelled articles and pictures of Sharon Gless thinking that she and Christine were one and the same.  I was obsessed and carried on and on about this woman.  A 12 year old carrying on about a 30-something?  Again, it was weird but I didn't see it and I am glad I didn't.  This woman got me to look forward to every Monday. I just needed a small step.  I got to see every tribulation that she experienced.  (AND, she was an amazing dresser.  My style..all Christine Cagney to this day.)

For many years, I have celebrated May 31 because this was Sharon's birthday.  I thank her.  I will never know her..but I am indebted.

So the likelihood that I could help my girls during a bad hair day is close to crap.

I got Rachel's spring portrait today.  (Some of you have probably seen the picture on Facebook.)  While she is beautiful, she isn't smiling..I feel like it is a personal middle finger to me for sending her to school all this time with that "hair do".  Rachel will be two in July and has never had a haircut.  She has so little (hair) that I didn't want to cut what she had.  Over the last few months it has grown into a wispy mullet.. and it looks like Edward Scissorhands got to her.

But even if she did have thicker hair like Laurel, the result would be no better.  Laurel goes to school with some sad, lumpy ponytail or a headband every damn day.

As a mother I really wish that I had better hair skills for my girls. Starting with me, I wear my hair long, all one length because I am not good with styling (you know, blow drying with a round brush) so a straight iron is all I can muster on a busy morning.  My hair wasn't any better when I was a pre-teen..so many mornings turning the the curling iron the wrong way and getting a frizzy crimp instead of a curl, needed a third arm to try to blow dry my hair smooth with a big round brush or using too much product. (The last two issues happened in adulthood several times.) Twice in a lifetime, I have cut my hair pretty short because I didn't have the patience for it.  (But of course that started rumors in my family that I now liked girls and I promptly started growing my hair out again.)

So the likelihood that I could help my girls during a bad hair day is close to crap.  Even on a good hair day, my first girl squirms and yelps with every brush stroke.  (I swear, I am very gentle..my restraint should earn an award or something really glittery.) And her hair is so slippery.  What the hell is this, an art project? I can't do anything..but the lumpy high ponytail that during the day will start to droop.  Then the second one with very little hair..I mean, whose fingers can actually use those little rubber bands? So I leave it as is..

Laurel seems to know my weakness.  Recently, she yelled about a bad hair day (like she really knows) and I offered to help.  She looked at me like there was a bad odor in the air.

I wish there was a course for this..I would seriously take it.  But in the meantime, they will know the ponytail..and perhaps a baseball hat.

Laurel is going to read a short story that she wrote..like me and not like that spreadsheet loving Ching!

Recently, in Laurel's freakin' red folder (yeah, you know the folder) came home a white envelope.  I knew what was in this envelope and what I needed to prepare.  Because they never surprise, the moms' of Laurel's classroom gave all the parents a head's up about their request.  They are making a laminated book as a end of year gift for the teacher and aid.  The envelope contains stiff paper to make a self portrait, some simple questions for the child to answer by themselves and a "bubble statement" where the child can write their best part of the year.  (My kid chose learning fractions.  First of all..I am so proud (regardless) but this kid is all Wang all the time.)

But you may ask..aren't you a mom of Laurel's class?  Yes, but  no..not so much.  There are three classroom moms that represent Laurel's class.  While anyone can stop by and help, there are three moms that coordinate everything:  gifts for the teachers, set up the classroom art website (yeah,I know) or make sure there is enough food for any art show breakfast or conference situation.  They find a lot of options for the class that involve very little money.  But God damn, anything they ask for, I make sure they have it..because it is the least that I could do.

These moms are very nice (even from me!) and busy regardless of the classroom responsibilities:

G is a single mom of 3 adopted girls that works outside the home. (Previously, I have called her the alpha mom that kind of scared the shit of me but she has become very kind to Laurel and the Wangs.)
M is a stay at home mom of two but is in the throws of finding a new home. (Not tragic..find or build)  The chaos of finding a home caused her to miss a play date with Laurel and her best girl.  She called me very apologetic and practically crying.  I told her that I do this shit all the time. (Yes, I used the word shit..)  It didn't sink in..I think I should send her six bottles of Chardonnay and my Hint of Attijude card.
D..I don't really know D but I like her daughter..she has never approached me after the first Laurel/D's kid play date..oh crap..

(Regardless, none of these girls are ever regulated to lurk in the driveway prior to the play date..they are very nice girls. (And I hope their mom liked me too.))

I am constantly amazed at where these ladies find the time.  The recent gift that they are coordinating is being presented during author night. (Quick aside..Author night is a night where the kids read their short stories.  Laurel is going to read a short story that she wrote..like me and not like that spreadsheet loving Ching!).  Recently, for this event, there was a quick e-mail requesting Popsicles.  I jumped at the chance to do at least something.  The two boxes of juice pops are quelling my guilt.

I know what you are thinking..you find time to blog but don't volunteer in the classroom?  There's the rub..freak me! While I am guilty of not volunteering, I am also guilty for not wanting to volunteer. I hate group projects (that involves some of gift collection), a million e-mail exchanges and delegation.  Spending 20 minutes with Laurel's project (that goes back in the envelope) gave me enough anxiety for the day.  (I was afraid she wouldn't finish in time.)

During author night, I know what will happen. I will kind of skulk to the back of the room, knowing that I brought Popsicles but, other than that, I did absolutely nothing.  I feel guilty but escaped with 24 pops..Christ..the "moms" could have asked for a kidney and I would have tried my best.  But it's about being there for my girl who is anti-spreadsheet at the moment as she is reading her creative short story...

(There is a little boy named Luke that I would like to welcome to the world..Congrats Mike and Sue W.)

As soon as Ching saw the damage, he assured me that he could fix it. All he needed was an ax.

During this beautiful, three day weekend so much yard work was done..lawns mowed, hedges trimmed, mulch spread and the Wangs did the absolute minimum any of this.  Ching did spray a little for ants but it's hard to spray for bugs when you don't like looking at the bugs.  Not sure how efficient his spraying was but nevertheless, it did count as yard work and that is probably it for the remainder of the summer.  We just don't care for it which makes the following story that much more comical.

I do have to thank my friend Tony for reminding of the tree story.  Over dinner on Saturday with both families, he asked if I had written about the tree and Ching's urge to flex his testosterone? (How could I have not told this yet?)...

During Hurricane Irene, I was standing in our master bedroom (folding laundry..because that is what I do) when a thunderous crack/crash shook this side of the house.    The noise was worse than it was..a small tree had snapped in the wind.  After the hurricane passed, we surveyed the damage and luckily (the tree) didn't hit the house but it also wasn't a clean break.  The tree was split and only part of it was hanging toward the ground while the over half was kind of attached but supported by the other trees.

As soon as Ching saw the damage, he assured me that he could fix it.  All he needed was an ax.  Are you kidding me?  These thoughts race through my mind:  If a portion (of the tree) is cut, it is possible that the remaining part of the tree could fall on him.  Or he could swing, miss and gouge the house.  OR, skipping the graphics, Ching could develop a serious limp.

Thankfully, we didn't own an ax but our friend Tony did.  (Fortunately we don't know anyone in the area with a chain saw. ) A few days after the storm, while he was at work, Ching sent me a text saying that he had asked (Tony) to drop it off while I was at home  (Getting a text that says,"TONY IS DROPPING OFF AN AX" is not the type of text that I favor.)  Thankfully, I got a call from Tony and through a couple of chuckles, he said he would let Ching have the ax but he needed to inspect the job first.  He didn't even have to get out of his car before he said no to Ching having the ax.  Like me, Tony also felt this could result in a new nickname for Ching..like The Gimp.  Tony convinced Ching that a professional needed to do this job.  Ching said he was crazy and bitched and moaned leading up to the day that our landscapers showed up.  This wasn't a regular grass cut job when one medium toned 60 something shows up.  As soon as Ching saw three huge guys, a couple of chainsaws and a wood chipper, he shut the hell up.

It boggled my mind why Ching wanted to do this so badly (with an ax no less.)
"I just wanted to feel manly."
"Manly?  How about I make you a big dinner of meat and potatoes and no vegetables."

Thankfully that did the trick..

To hear Laurel explain this routine makes Ching and I sound like absolute slugs.

Ching and I have a lazy, horrible habit that has gone on every weekend since Laurel was born.  I wish I could say it is sordid and dirty but again..just kind of lazy.

Before becoming parents, Ching and I loved a lazy weekend morning..sleep late, good coffee and breakfast, etc. But by 11:00, we got stuff done.  (In the name of holy crap on a cracker, that seems like a lifetime ago.)

During the weekend, we split who gets up in the morning with the girls.  Rachel usually gives us a break and will get up around 7:30..but not Laurel, she will always get up at 6:45..7:00 the absolute latest.  So on Saturdays, I will get up at 7:00 (or when Laurel demands breakfast) while Ching will sleep until 9:00.  But here is where is gets really bad..When Ching gets up at 9:00.. (small voice), I will go back to bed until 11:00.  And on Sunday, the opposite routine happens.  Granted this method doesn't really work with tennis, dance, math and that music class with the bohemian singing weirdo that Rachel favors..but this routine will start in the summer when there are very few classes to attend. (To hear Laurel explain this routine makes Ching and I sound like absolute slugs.)

It is also amusing what happens during the two hours when I get up first as opposed to Ching.  If I get up first, by the time it is 9:00, the girls are dressed, fed, groomed (you know, teeth and hair)..and honestly probably on their first snack of the day.  When Ching gets up first...a lot of this doesn't happen and usually I say something like "You gave her chips for breakfast?"

I should stop going back to bed..while I am not a morning person (just ask Laurel), it seems that this time of day is my wheelhouse.  I kind of own it--things get done.  Just going back to bed and sleeping just makes me tired and freaked out.  (Usually I have a really weird dream like not being able to find my shorts in the locker room when spinning is going to start in two minutes..tick, tick, tick!! I look in every locker, every stall..nothing..)

I know I could get so much more done..while I would pledge to not going back to bed next Saturday, I would also be pledging it by drinking a glass of wine. (Yeah, I know..)

The key is using your chin to hold the roll and the free hand to rip

(My apologies for missing two entries this week.  I seem to have a little block of creativity.  I call this block Bart..I am hoping to kick him to the curb soon but he is a real lurker. I think I would rather be constipated than have a writing block.)

So I guess you can call me Lefty.  Over the past couple of weeks, I have needed to do everything with just my left arm/hand.  Rachel has decided that she likes me best (over Ching) but with this decision, she has become a barnacle on my side.  She constantly wants to be picked up and or held.  If I try to put her down, her little legs wrap and squeeze around my waist.  Her strength is quite amazing..a little quadzilla that slightly takes my breath away.

While I appreciated the initial favoritism, this is getting old..fast.  I want to go back to the way it was..when she looked at me with disgust or ignored me.  And I was free and had two useful arms/hands.

I am right handed.  Do you know how hard it is to pour a glass of milk (from a full gallon container) with your left?  Getting dinner ready is ridiculous and don't get me started on trying to pee.  (In case you only have one arm in the bathroom, the key is using your chin to hold the roll and the free hand to rip.  Christ..I have truly stooped to a low level.)

This sounds terrible (but hasn't stopped me before) but when is she going to go back to Ching?  (And I think he could use the exercise.)  Perhaps she could be thought of similar to a wrist weight but more like a waist weight. Yeah..he could so use that.

I am talking- dirty-undies-in-the family-room disaster.

A couple of months ago, I was given the best compliment since I was carded at a liquor store last fall.  After I complained that it was hard to befriend other moms, a young man that I worked with, casually mentioned, that perhaps (the other mothers) were jealous since I was so put together.  Me?  GET OUT!  I don't care that this guy is still a child himself..a compliment is a compliment.

Flash foward to this morning..I keep the "together" this mantra in mind..I AM together..even when I start my day writing an e-mail to Lindsey, our sitter.  On Wednesdays, Lindsey picks up the girls, brings them home and makes them dinner.  This gives me the opportunity to stay late at work to get some things done.  While Lindsey has been with us for over three years, I still feel the need to e-mail her warnings:  Laurel is in a terrible mood, Rachel has a cold or the house is an absolute disaster--I am talking- dirty-undies-in-the family-room disaster.  So..this is my e-mail:

Good Morning,  (Good Lord, I should have said..hope you are well.)
        Just a few things that I wanted to give you a head's up about:
                I forgot to turn on the dishwasher before I left (this morning), so the pots that you would normally use to cook with are dirty (in the dishwasher).
                Tonight is bath night for Rachel..when you pick her up, would you double check her day sheet or ask to see if she has pooped?  This will gauge if her bath will be shorter than usual (You know..how Ching screams like a girl at the sight of poo floating.)
                AND..the Wang household is dangerously low on toilet paper.  There is none in the downstairs bathroom, about 1/3 of a roll in the girls bathroom and a full roll (well, it was full before Ching got in there) in our bathroom.  So feel free and move the rolls around.  I will be home with more TP.

thanks
Jude

Holy Christ..(My afterthoughts are in parentheses.)  I didn't even say please for freak's sake.  This morning I was afraid of not being together, now I cringe because I sound like...like...Kate Gosselin.  I would like to think then when I walked through the door with 12 rolls of TP, I also had some manners.