A friend is someone who's friendly

In my favorite episode of THE MARY TYLER MOORE SHOW, Mary dates a younger man and in order to fit in and impress his (also) younger friends, she goes to a hip and young clothing store to find something "cute" to wear to his party. There are so many wonderful moments, from Rhoda's bewilderment at Mary's insecurity to the salesgirl's complete disinterest, but my favorite moment is when Rhoda picks up a small book for sale in the store and reads it aloud...

"A Friend is Someone Who's Friendly - A friend is someone who's friendly. Even when it's raining, even when it's nighttime, even when it's snowing, even when it isn't. (She slams the book shut) Three-fifty!"

I love that. I remember books like that. ("Or even a white mouse," is from one of them.)

Watching my daughter grow up, I see her make friends like that. When she was three, just having the same shoes as another little girl was as good a reason as any to be friends. When she was 5, she just automatically made friends with the girl who sat closest to her in class. Now that she's older, I'm watching her become more choosy... thinking about the big picture, whether or not a friend will fit in with the friends she already has. Trying to decide if a new friend will be able to work around our crazy schedule or will just get frustrated and give up. Wondering if she'll fit in with the other kids' friends...

In preschool her friends' moms automatically became my friends. I had spent the better part of my life choosing my own friends based on our common interests and a good sense of humor and now suddenly "the boss" was assigning me my cohorts. The kids wanted to play after school - I couldn't very well just let some stranger take her home, even if she DID have an extra car seat and a house south of the boulevard. So we started slowly... a trip to the park, a walk after school, an hour at the indoor playground at the mall. They would play and we would talk. About what? Milestones usually. Kindergarten applications, public school versus private school, vaccinations, potty training, allergies, siblings, grandparents... And so I ended up with a new group of friends. One I had nothing in common with except the age of our children but at the time, it wasn't all bad.

Recently I had what they call a "milestone" birthday. Let's face it - it's just a good excuse for a party. But as I crafted the witty invitation that would be my online "evite", I was struck by the fact that NONE of the people I would be inviting were present at my last "milestone" birthday, 10 years previous. My current friends been collected at her elementary school. Again, no thought for our common interests, except we had all chosen this particular school for our kids and they had ended up in the same kindergarden class. In fact, I didn't even collect the group for myself. I just wormed my way into an already formed group of mommies. There were parties and girls nights out and hours spent gossiping in the school parking lot after drop off. I was set, or so I thought.

But unlike the friends we make ourselves, the friends our children "arrange" for us don't necessarily last a lifetime. We're still friends, most of us. Some closer than others, of course. But now the kids are old enough that we have friends based on their activities. We don't spend hours hovering around the classroom anymore. Now our hours are spent on the soccer field or swim team, ball park or ballet studio, sports boosters or PTA. And I can see it's going to happen again... it's not long until the kids will be at a new school and we will have to start all over again. But at this point, I'm not expected to make friends with her friends' moms. In fact, I think she'd rather I didn't. Just know them well enough to call up and arrange a sleepover or ask them to fax the homework she forgot. Not well enough to compare notes... ("I heard little Seymore went to the principal for fighting and isn't he your daughter Carly's boyfriend???" "Boyfriend?! My precious baby girl Carly would never have a boyfriend!!!") And the older she gets, the less she will want me to hover on the edges of her life. She will not want me to be best friends with her best friend's mother, the way she does now. She will want me to have my own friends and leave her "the hell alone"! (Screamed at me as she is slamming her bedroom door, no doubt.)

So I am going to have to remember how to make my own friends again. I'm experimenting - making a few new friends who are not parents at her school, who do not have children the exact same age. We still have stuff in common - and in a lot of ways we are very different. But it's kind of fun - choosing friends because we like each other, not just because our kids are friends. Not just because it's raining. Not just because it isn't. A friend is someone who's friendly. Even if her kid isn't best friends with yours. Crazy, huh? Maybe I should write a book...

A Friend is Someone Who's Friendly.

A friend is someone who's friendly,

even if their kids go to a different school,

even if they don't come to all the soccer games,

even if they aren't active on the PTA,

even if they are.

Hmmm... maybe I couldn't get $12.95 for it but I could probably get $3.50!

The break.

Sometimes all the hovering in the world doesn't make a bit of difference.

I spent the whole summer with the child - no camp, even - primarily sitting in the skating rink. It was all she wanted to do for the summer, so I didn't schedule anything else. Last summer I used to leave her at the rink and go get some exercise until the day she hit her head on the ice. (Whenever I try to overcome my hovering tendencies, bad things happen...) So I decided to stick around this summer and get my exercise by walking around the rink.

So she was ready, REALLY ready for her competition in early September. It was even possible that she would land all her jumps (something that hadn't happened in a competition yet this season). She was scheduled to skate on the second day of the competition (which coincidentally happened to be her second day of school) at 7:30 in the morning. Now it may not appear that I am not a morning person (especially to those of you who saw me at the rink every morning) but I am most definitely NOT. So it was particularly unpleasant that morning when the alarm went off at 4:30 am. We got up. We got her dressed. We put her hair into a bun and even put mascara on her eyelashes. We both managed to eat something and then we were on the road - heading for the 6:30 "practice ice".

I don't love to drive in the dark. I never expect that I will be driving in the dark in the morning. But I was. We got to the rink and our friends had signed us up for the practice ice (which had actually started a half an hour earlier than we expected) so we were very happy. When she got on the ice, it was crowded and it took awhile before she could find the spots to jump. But she was good, she was strong... When her coach arrived, I wandered off... to chat, to register, to order a video, to see where she was scheduled in the skating order. She would skate 4th in the first group (of the first event) right after her friend. That was a relief. They would cheer each other on!

After awhile the coach had her get off the ice so she didn't get too tired out. It was still before 7 am after all. But she was hot. And then she was cold. I think she was mostly just nervous but I knew she was ready.

When the time came for the competition to begin, I was trying to find blush for her cheeks. By the time I found some, she had already been called out for the 5 minute warm up. I left her with her coach and went to find a spot in the bleachers for her dad and me to sit...

The next thing I knew she was sitting on the ice, her shoulders going up and down like she was laughing. But then the sound reached me across the arena and I heard the cries. Running, I managed to dodge parents, skaters and skating bags (passing my husband on the way) and got to the ice just as her coach and someone else were carrying her off. She couldn't put any weight on it. This was not a good thing at all.

Somehow we got her out of there... we didn't leave until her friend had finished skating but I honestly didn't see any of it. She had to be carried to the car, with her skate still on (we took the other one off) to go where? I didn't know - the pediatrician? The emergency room?? Her dad followed us in the car as I drove back to the valley in the midst of morning rush hour traffic, trying in vain to get the pediatrician on the phone and listening to my baby girl cry harder than she ever had in her life.

Okay, even I can't take this play by play any more... let's just say, the ER doctor gave us hope and that helped us get through the weekend. We thought it was possibly a slight fracture, maybe just a sprain - either way it was going to heal quickly and we just had to wait and see which of her upcoming competitions she would still be able to participate in. It wasn't until the Tuesday after Labor Day, 4 days after the "fall", that we would be able to see an orthopedist and get all the bad news... fracture, growth plate, full leg cast. It was definitely "suckish", to quote my daughter.

Four to six weeks in a full leg cast. Obviously we didn't need to worry about which competitions she would get to. She wouldn't get to any. It was not a sprain. It was a break. And that was what we would now be on...

It's been interesting to live a life without so many extracurricular activities. There is no more skating, no more dancing, no more basketball... she can't even go to choir practice because she'd have to climb a flight of stairs! Piano is the only activity that has survived but just barely... if she weren't flexible enough to hold her leg out to the side while she plays, piano would have had to go on hiatus too. (If only we'd had a grand piano!) I was home in time to make dinner. Homework didn't have to be started in the car and finished long after bedtime. She was asleep at a reasonable time and even had time to watch mindless television. I played game after game of solitaire on my phone and Plants vs. Zombies on my iPad.

We are one week into this thing. And at this point I can tell you two things - that silver sharpie looks great on a purple cast and I am so tense giving her a bath, I'm afraid I need to go on anti-anxiety medication!

So it's a break. It's not the ideal way to start the school year, but I guess it's not the worst way either. It's pretty intense though - having to get to school early to find a parking place close enough so she doesn't have to maneuver her crutches through the parking lot, carrying her absurdly heavy backpack into her classroom before school begins, getting back there early enough to get a good parking spot for pick up, and getting her from her classroom so I can carry the absurdly heavy backpack back out to the car... saying hello and thanks to all the sweet classmates who have carried her stuff all day, who have given her little gifts and written get well cards, who have written on her cast with silver sharpie and run off to play at recess, grateful that they are not weighed down by a full leg cast.

So now I'm required to hover. So far I'm not exactly loving it.

On Mother's Day...

I don't really remember Mother's Day when I was a kid - I'm sure we had them (I'm not actually old enough that they hadn't invented it yet), but my mother died when I was 19 and frankly my memory is not that hot. I remember her birthdays, of course! My dad would bring me with him to the jewelry store to pick out a gold bangle bracelet (what do you get the woman who has everything except good health?) and then to Lord & Taylor's to buy her a robe from me. But Mother's Day? I probably got her a card... maybe we made something in school? I do remember asking (just like my daughter does) why there wasn't a "kid's day" although I don't think my mother answered like I did with an exasperated "Believe me, every day is kid's day"!

I didn't have my daughter until my mother had been gone for 2o years and now she's 10 (go ahead, do the math - I'm old!) so sometimes I wonder if I know what I'm doing here at all. Not that my mother was so great... There were some wonderful things about her and my sister would argue with me on this, but her parenting (particularly of her youngest, late-in-life child) was not exactly stellar. My sister was off to college by the time I started kindergarden so instead of having siblings to be jealous of, I had the TV show JEOPARDY. Every day at lunch I would come home from school for an hour and I wasn't allowed to talk to her because JEOPARDY was on. Then she spent the next half hour on the phone with her sister in Colorado discussing the details of that day's game. My only solace was that surely my cousins were suffering the same indignity. Of course, it wasn't just my mother's attention I wanted. It was the TV too!!! All the rest of my friends got to watch BEWITCHED at lunch and it didn't seem fair that I couldn't. So I went to my best friend's house for lunch where her mom set up TV trays in front of the set and we ate hamburger and rice while watching Samantha and her Darren D'Jour. Something my mother would never have allowed! (Eating in front of the TV??? WE don't do that!) I did enjoy Samantha's parenting skills (wouldn't it have been nice to have had a mom who could wiggle her nose and send the bullies flying through the air into the cotton candy machine in front of the rest of the school?) but she really got the short end of the stick with her own mom, Endora. Made my mom look positively nurturing.

I grew up on a steady diet of TV moms and mom-substitutes... THE BRADY BUNCH and THE PARTRIDGE FAMILY had cute, hip, blonde moms. FAMILY AFFAIR, NANNY AND THE PROFESSOR, HAZEL and COURTSHIP OF EDDIE'S FATHER all had mom substitutes and LOVE, AMERICAN STYLE had no moms at all - but I wasn't really supposed to be up watching that anyway! I certainly didn't recognize my mom in any of those. I always thought I saw her in really disturbing films... ORDINARY PEOPLE and Woody Allen's INTERIORS to name two in particular but let's face it, I'm pretty sure my own teenage drama colored those choices just a little.

These days I find myself wondering what my mom would do in certain situations... When I was 19 and she was dying, I couldn't relate to her - from what I saw, we had less than nothing in common. Now that I am... well, old with a 10 year old daughter who loves to figure skate, I wish I could ask my 38 year old mother how she actually got up at 5 in the morning to take my sister to the rink! I would love to hear how she managed to survive watching her darling daughter fall over and over and over trying to learn a jump that seems ridiculous to even attempt. Did she bring the newspaper? Did she talk to other moms? Where did she get the skating dress made and what did she think when she watched that child glide across the ice, as graceful as a swan? I'd like to know how she managed with a toddler at home when she found out she had an incurable disease. Did she really stop watching soap operas cold turkey just because she kept getting suspicious of my dad? Did she know she was an alcoholic? Was she scared to die?

I have lots of photos of my mother. Many from before I was born when she was quite glamorous. There are a series of portraits where she looks like a movie star, with bright red lipstick and the cigarette that ended up killing her... She definitely doesn't look like a mother at all. I'm pretty sure those are before my sister was even born. There are serious shots of her posed in front of a microphone as Dover, Delaware's "Lady In the News" - I know she was a mother by then, but she doesn't look like one there either. She's not in a lot of my childhood pictures because like me, she was often behind the camera. And then as she got quite sick, she didn't really want any pictures taken of her anyway. But I have two photos that are of the mom I knew - the mom I loved, in spite of my angry teenage self. One is from when I was about my daughter's age - she is alone in the photo and she wears a green dress. She's not actually smiling but she is posing for the camera. It was taken in front of the house my dad grew up in and I'll bet my grandmother (her mother-in-law) took it. My grandmother LOVED to take pictures and she probably liked my mother's dress. I keep that photo in my wallet. The other one is from my high school graduation and everyone is in it. My sister, her husband and their kids, my grandmother, aunts and uncle and cousins... they came from all over to see me graduate from high school. I thought that was kind of ridiculous. Did they think I wasn't really going to make it??? But now I think they all just came because they didn't know if they'd see my mother again. She only lived another 14 months so I guess they were right. That photo is on my piano. I remember my next door neighbor took the picture so we could all be in it. If you look closely you can see the tubes from my mom's oxygen tank but she looks pretty happy. I guess she didn't expect she'd make it that long. And I didn't think she'd ever leave.

So now I parent out of books. When my daughter was a baby, I read Dr. Sears and Dr. Brazelton the way other people just called home for advice. I dog-ear articles in Woman's Day and read parenting blogs. Last year I even bought a book called "Your Nine Year Old" because a friend recommended it - a friend who still has a mother even! And sometimes I just do what I feel like... and then I know exactly what my mother would say. Because I hear her words coming out of my mouth. And sometimes that's okay. And sometimes I think "What would Carol Brady do?" and that's okay too. We all screw our kids up anyway... one way or another. Instead of the memories I have of a mother who was never there, my daughter will have memories of a mother who was always there, whether she wanted me there or not. And there will be plenty of times to come when I'll be hovering and she'll wish I wasn't... And she'll probably resent me. But today was Mother's Day and I got two e-cards, a poem and a t-shirt. And a LOT of "I love you, Mom"s. Today was a great day.

Happy Mother's Day to all you mothers out there!

The politics of volunteering...

What is that saying? "If you need something done, ask a busy person"? Well, apparently I must look pretty busy because everywhere I turn lately, someone is asking me to volunteer for something! Now don't get me wrong, I'm always happy to bake cookies for the bake sale, bring waters for the class trip or snacks for the basketball team. I don't even mind signing up on the volunteer sign up sheet to chaperone the occasional field trip or supervise the class at recess during teacher appreciation week. In fact, (and not to toot my own horn but hello! Toot toot!!) I run one of the largest fundraisers at my daughter's school, spending the better part of 4 months in slave-like devotion to a money-making, prize churning machine. So it absolutely pisses me off that I seem to be number one on everyone's speed dial when it comes time to find a volunteer. Aren't I volunteering enough for all of us??? Do they really think I have nothing better to do than give up what little free time I have managed to carve out for myself doing something I am not even interested in for someone who is not even a close, personal friend??

Okay, I'm particularly touchy about this because right now I'm in a position where I have to ask people to volunteer. It's a peculiar job - I'm on the nominating committee for the PTO board. I'm basically asking people to take on a HUGE job for little to no reward other than being ridiculously helpful to your child's school. Now, it's no secret that I continue to be the chairperson for said behemoth fundraiser year after year so that I WON'T have to take on one of these other jobs because I prefer to work VERY hard for 4 months and then recuperate instead of working VERY hard for 10 months and then self-destructing. Yet, somehow in addition to chairing "my" fundraiser, I end up "volunteered" as the person who ropes other innocent people into the very jobs I won't take. I know. It's wrong on SO many levels.

But what's REALLY wrong about this whole thing is the attitude of so many when a person says no. Don't get me wrong, I've certainly spent my share of time wondering what in the world little Susie's mother is so busy doing that she can't even return my email when I ask if she can volunteer 30 minutes of her time at the "weepul table" (don't ask) and I admit I have looked askance at the mom running away after drop off, dressed in tennis whites, when she has angrily explained that her job is simply too demanding for her to be anywhere but IN HER OFFICE from 7 am to 7 pm. Unless she is "tennis pro to the stars", I think I've been had. No, the thing that drives me crazy is the person who truly believes that your "no" is just an opportunity for them to KEEP ON ASKING YOU. Like the child who pleads for one more piece of candy, over and over and over and over and over, until you finally give in or go insane, this person will stand in front of you, speaking English and responding to light and sound, and yet act as if you are a TV with the mute button on.

I am in awe of those of you who can say no - just "no" without a long, involved, guilt-ridden explanation. Those of you who value your time (and your family's time) enough to protect it. I know that some of you really wish you could volunteer more but your job makes it impossible or you have family responsibilities that take up a lot of your time. When I say "yes" to a volunteer request, it's you I'm thinking of. I'm thinking that I'm lucky to have the time and energy to help. But sometimes... sometimes I just wish I had an unlisted phone number.

It's probably not a surprise that I'm a person who finds it hard to say no. I'm also the one who believes if no one is going to do it, I'd better go ahead and do it. But experience has taught me that if I don't step in and "save the day", generally someone else will. They may not do it the way I would have or the way you wanted it done, but they will do it because no one else did. And if I stepped in, they would never have had to. And what if someone doesn't volunteer? What if I say no and no one else says yes? Will the world fall off its axis?? Will California fall into the sea??? Will the school have to actually CLOSE???? Probably not. Sadly, I am not as important as I like to think I am. And if it's a job that no one wants to do, perhaps it is not a job we need to have. But I don't have to turn myself upside down, neglecting my family, friends and job, in order to fill your position. So I really DO resent when you don't hear me when I say "no". Because I say yes FAR too often. And I guess by saying yes too often, you think I'll say yes to anything. So no - I will not make your posters, man the cash register, run the arts and crafts class, help you move or head up the PTO. And it's not because I don't like you or think those are not important jobs or that I think I'm too good to do them. It's because I'm ALREADY TOO BUSY with what I've previously agreed to volunteer for and there are 6.5 billion other people on the planet and I would appreciate it if you would give one of them a chance to say yes. And I promise, if you say no to me, I will hear you.

Holding pattern

Okay, this may be a surprise to you but I don't like being a "helicopter mom". I would so much rather be home watching TV! I really miss losing so many hours of my day to activities that I am not even participating in. Luckily, when I can drop her off and do my own thing, I do. And when I can't, at least it's skating and I have some friends at the rink. But what's really gotten to me lately is the fact that I will never be able to kiss her goodbye at the door in the morning and send her off to school. I will always have to drive her. Her school is not that far from us, it's a good healthy walk but she's a good healthy girl - she could make it. But see, people would think I'm a bad mother because anything could happen on her way to school.

I started walking to school by myself on the second day of kindergarden. The school was nearby but I was still 5 years old! Middle school was farther but still I walked, sometimes alone, sometimes with friends. We would walk home together, talking and laughing - decompressing from school. It wasn't until high school that I even had the option of taking a bus. And the possibility of my mother driving me to school??? Please - that didn't exist! Yes, it's a different world today. But I didn't live in Kansas. I lived in New York. True, it was the suburbs - that's different, you're thinking. Okay. When I was 13 years old, I would take the train into New York City with a friend to see a Broadway matinee. At fourteen or fifteen, every week I took the train into Grand Central Station to get on the subway to Times Square where I changed for the number 1 train to go up to 96th Street so I could get to my singing lesson. And you know what? Anything could have happened! Sometimes something did, but nothing so bad that I couldn't figure out how to handle it. But how would I have learned to handle it if I never had the chance?

Look, I know I can't let my 10 year old daughter walk to school. First of all, none of the other kids in our building go to her school. That would have made it easier - if she went to the local public school with the neighbors. It's even closer!!! But you know what, they don't walk to school either. We live near a high school - all those teenagers around - anything could happen. She would have to walk along a very busy street, passing bus stops with strangers waiting there for the bus - anything could happen. She would have to pass by a freeway on ramp - anything could happen. There are homeless people scattered around the neighborhood - anything could happen.

All of that is true and I watch the news - believe me, I know anything can happen. It just makes me sad and a little bit worried that I am raising a child who will have ZERO street smarts. If you are always with your mom, you never have to make the decision whether or not you might be safer if you crossed the street and didn't walk through that crowd of teenagers or past the drunk guy on the park bench because she makes that decision for you! When my daughter goes off to college someday, I'd like to think that she'll know how to trust her instincts but will she have had any practice? I got her a cell phone this past summer, not because I want to spoil her (although she probably is anyway) but because I wanted to be able to leave her places. To give her a bit of independence, but still keep her safe. I know a cell phone can't actually keep her safe but it gives us both a little more confidence as she steps out into the world. The world that is as different as it was when I was a kid as it is the same.

My cousin lives in a lovely community about 45 minutes away and when we go to visit her, my daughter gets to hang out with her cousins. Outside. Unsupervised. In the neighborhood. With the neighborhood kids. I am SO glad she gets to do that. Hopefully while they are out there, they are exercising their instincts. All our kids are going to need them someday and it's hard to trust them if you've never used them before. So while I'm always aware that at any time and in any place, anything can happen, I also know that our kids are bright, resilient and strong and if given the opportunity, can probably make safe and smart choices.

Of course, I'm still not letting her walk to school. And obviously I can't let her walk home from school. She has too many activities! So I'll just keep hovering. But maybe I'll try to hover up a little higher or go behind a cloud once in awhile so she thinks maybe she actually has to take care of herself. Because practice makes perfect - and how is she ever going to take care of my darling little grandchildren if she never learns how to take care of herself?

My skating obsession

The big advantage to the whole "helicopter parenting" thing is that I ended up with a hobby. Okay, hobby is maybe the wrong word... Obsession could possibly be more accurate. I only admit that because I personally subscribe to 14 skating blogs that I check on a daily basis. I pay $29.95 for an annual pass to a website where I can watch all the skating they don't show on TV, on my computer, live in the middle of the night while it's happening in Russia or wherever, so I don't have to wait to read about it on a blog. I didn't intend to be a skating fan. I didn't even intend to be a skating mom! If fate hadn't thrown my daughter together with another little skater in kindergarden, I might be following women's soccer today. But a mother can only hang around a rink SO LONG before she got to stop smiling and nodding and actually find out the difference between ISI and USFSA, what a salchow is and how to pronounce it, why your darling daughter insists on wearing tights and a dress when a nice warm pair of pants seems so much more sensible and how I can possibly watch her fall THAT many times without losing my mind.

The good news is I learned all that stuff. And more. And the more I learned, the closer I watched her. And the closer I watched, the more I wanted her to do better. And the more I wanted her to do better, the more I realized I had no control over it. And the more I realized I had no control over it, the more frustrated I got. So I turned my attention away from the ice. I drank coffee in the snack bar. I read a novel. I chatted with the other mothers. Eventually I started to follow the sport. BINGO!!!! Suddenly, I had a way to participate without putting pressure on my daughter!! I could watch skating on TV and root for my favorites and my daughter could tell me what they were doing. "That's a good spiral, isn't it honey?" "That's not a spiral, mom - that's a spin. A sit spin followed by a camel spin." "Why is it called a camel spin, honey?" "I don't know. Can I go watch something else in the other room?" So had to I let Dick Button and Peggy Fleming, Scott Hamilton and Sandra Bezic take over. The axel is the hardest jump because it has a forward take off and an extra half rotation - so a triple axel goes around three and a half times. The jumps in the second half of the program get an extra 10% point value because the skater is tired by then. The whole judging system changed because of the cheating scandal in the Salt Lake City Olympics.

I got a book on the cheating scandal. And a Dorothy Hamill biography. And a Scott Hamilton self-help book. And a history of figure skating. I watched videos on You Tube of the skaters I read about. I watched regionals on the computer. I started reading message boards. I became obsessed. And that hasn't been all bad. Skating is a beautiful sport. A skater is not just a dancer on skates. They are amazing athletes who are expected to do the impossible while donning sequins and eyeliner and make it look so easy that most people think it's not even a sport!

This weekend was the first part of the 2010 U.S. Nationals, the competition which helps decide the members of our Olympic team. It was thrilling, frustrating, exciting, depressing and satisfying. And that was just watching it on TV. Imagine what it must have been like to be there. We were at Worlds last year (one of the perks of Mommy's obsession - my daughter actually got to skip school twice to come with me to the competition!) and there was nothing like seeing such amazing skating live. Tonight while we watched Jeremy Abbott take his second National title, my daughter told me I should be a skating commentator. Because she thinks I know so much. Sometimes at the rink she gets mad that I can't help her with her jumps - she thinks I should be able to with the amount of skating I watch. But the truth is, I STILL can't tell the difference between a flip and a toe loop and while I may be able to skate around the rink without falling, I can't stop unless I run right into the boards! I have a fan's knowledge - not a skater's knowledge.

But now skating isn't just "her" thing anymore. Sure, I take her to the rink and watch during her lessons. I might even go sit beside the ice and remind her what she needs to practice. But skating to me is an exciting, heart-breaking, exhilarating sport that I love to watch and probably always will. I NEVER wanted to be a figure skater. My sister was a figure skater. But years after she had given it up, and was married with kids of her own, my dad would call her on the phone whenever skating was on TV. "Are you watching the skating, honey?" he would say and my sister would laugh. "No, Dad. We only watch gymnastics - the kids do gymnastics!" So years from now I'll be calling my daughter... "Are you watching the skating, honey?" I wonder what she'll be watching? But me, I'll be watching the skating.

(Next weekend - Ladies and Ice Dance at Nationals on NBC. The big question... is Sasha Cohen really going to show and will she snag one of the two spots on the Olympic team?)

The trials and tribulations of sharing a computer

I suppose this post could be about marriage in general, since this is the same sort of thing that happens when two people share a bathroom, a refrigerator, a closet or a car... except my husband knows how to work the shower, close the refrigerator door, stay out of my side of the closet and leave the car radio tuned to MY radio station! (Well, that last part's not exactly true but it sounded good and probably could fall under the New Year's resolution "Thinking Positively".) The trouble is the computer. It's not that he doesn't know how to work it - he does, kind of. But really, he has just enough information to believe he knows what he is doing and that's how I ended up with a post on my blog (a POST!) about a motorcycle. He thought he was commenting on someone else's blog. I don't exactly know how that happened at all but if you checked out this page in the last 36 hours or so, there was a really weird post from yesterday. So, it wasn't me. Not that I wouldn't have enjoyed a Bizarro comic of a motorcycle with a baby seat on the back... but I WOULD have known how to post that on the Bizarro Blog - which I just taught my husband to do (also explaining how to NOT post his comments as "Helicoptor Mom".)

Let's face it. I don't think he even knows I do this! I mean, he notices me at the computer. And he sees I am writing something but in the same way he tunes out the sound of American Idol coming from the TV as I watch it, he tunes out the whole blog process entirely. Even as he is posting as me. We don't read each other's email (at least I don't read his and I assume he doesn't read mine) but that doesn't mean that once in awhile he doesn't accidentally click on something of mine. The only reason I know that is when I get online to check my email and something I haven't read is marked as "read". The thing is, he doesn't even notice he did that! If I did that, I would mark the email as "unread" so he wouldn't miss it. But I do everything in a much more conscious way, I think. He can't possibly be thinking - otherwise how would he have NOT KNOWN that he posted on my blog!!!!

I guess you can see that it bugged me. Particularly because my first thought WASN'T "my husband inadvertently posted on my blog thinking he was commenting on someone else's blog" - no, my first thought was "someone hacked my computer and now they're going to steal my identity!!!!" This caused me some stress. For awhile. Until I read the post... about a BMW motorcycle. It is safe to assume that if a BMW motorcycle is being referenced, my husband is in on it. I guess I should be glad he's gotten past the "replying to me when I've forwarded an email to him" - I told him about it the first few times. Then I just started copying and pasting and sending it for him. Sometimes it's easier if I pretend I'm his assistant. Like when I hit "send" for the emails he has just left sitting on the desktop, addressed and ready to go, but sucked into "drafts". I used to ask first but now I just make sure it's complete and there isn't a duplicate in the "sent mail" folder, and then I hit "send". It's not so bad to be an assistant - I get to flirt with my boss and he doesn't even know why! Or be a total bitch and not have to worry I'll get fired. But sometimes I'd just like to know that he has "quit" all the programs and not just closed all the windows and that if he accidentally clicked on an unread email of mine that he'd make it look like he hadn't so I wouldn't have to end up explaining, a week later, how I missed that important email.

On the other hand, sharing a computer is an act of total trust. I could read his email, see where he goes on the web, read his documents, proof his resume. But I don't. Because after 20 years, if we don't have trust, we don't have anything. So 20 years, we have trust (and he has typos and I have a random post on my blog) - I think it's a pretty fair trade off.

And besides, I can't read his email - I'm too busy hovering over my daughter!! (And no, I don't read her email either - because she's too busy texting to use email!)

Headlines

When I made Yahoo my home page (and then customized it to be "My Yahoo"), it never crossed my mind that the day would come where the competing headlines would be "More Than 100K Feared Dead in Haiti Quake" and "Simon Cowell Leaves Idol". I find it disturbing that we live in a world where those two facts can legitimately be placed side by side as if they are of equal importance. Now, I'll be honest - I am an Idol viewer. Even an Idol fan. But under no circumstances is millionaire Simon Cowell's job drama even remotely important enough to warrant space in any sort of news website unless it's listed under "Entertainment". And even then, several paragraphs below Conan please!

Perhaps it's my fault. I probably selected "entertainment" as one of my interests on Yahoo (along with ACTUAL news) and now "My Yahoo" thinks I am as concerned about Tiger Woods marriage as I am about the collapse of the Haitian presidential palace. That's the trouble with the computer. Lots of info - no common sense. It's safe to say that when there has been a catastrophic event in the last 24 hours, keep the entertainment "news" under wraps for the rest of the day. Save it for Entertainment Tonight or TMZ. Let some actual news come through. It may concern someone that Simon is leaving it to Randy after this season, but probably not someone who has relatives in Haiti.

That said, I thought I'd mention the new phone books actually DID come yesterday. And I yelled "The new phone books are here, the new phone books are here!" just like I always do and then promptly tossed them into the recycle bin. As sad as it may be, I haven't looked in a phone book in years. I do it all on the computer now. But luckily I still get the newspaper - two even! So I can report that while the front page was appropriately dominated by the terrible news from Haiti, Simon Cowell's employment plans did not make the page. However, this being L.A., Conan's job situation did. In a state where movie stars routinely become governors, I suppose it's the best we can hope for.

The new phone books are here! The new phone books are here!!

Okay, I didn't really get a new phone book today. It's a line from the movie THE JERK (one of my all time favorites). Navin R. Johnson (Steve Martin) is working at a gas station when the new phone book arrives. In typical enthusiastic Steve Martin style he crows "The new phone books are here! The new phone books are here!! Things are going to start happening to me NOW!" Of course at that point we see a crazed madman pick Navin's name out of the phone book as the person he is going to hunt down and shoot. Not nearly as creepy as it sounds - trust me, rent the movie!

In any case, for the first time since January 1st, I finally feel like the new year has arrived. Things are going to start happening to me now! I went to two workshops today, one with a TV casting director and the other with a voice over coach/actor/casting director and both left me feeling like there's still something for me out there. I had been toying with the idea of going back to school to become a teacher (certainly a noble profession but far less entertaining than driving onto the Warner Brothers lot to get paid for saying a few lines and loafing around the craft service table) just so I could have some consistent cash. This economy hasn't been fun for a lot of people but I'm really getting sick of wondering if we're going to have health insurance next year. And teaching gigs really work with the over-scheduled child's after school activities. If I temp in some office, who is going to get her to the rink, tie her skates (I know, I know, it's time...) and be there to comfort her after the emotional and physical pain from 200+ attempts to land a fully rotated double toe loop? But going back to school for teaching (and the ensuing school loans) really would mean I'm planning to be a teacher. Not an actress who plays a teacher. Not a substitute teacher who is really an actress. A teacher. Day in and day out. Assuming I can even find a job! After 18 months of school (including 6 months of unpaid student teaching!). With none of the showbiz glamour and perks I've come to know and love - okay there aren't that many perks but it IS nice to get DVDs in the mail in January (thanks SAG!). Let's face it - I am really happy to take a step back from that bridge and lounge on the shore of possibly soon to be employed voice over actor or even unemployed actor who still has residuals coming in and is really working on making connections.

In any case, it's a new year and I feel optimistic. I'm still hot, off and on, but I'm also still talented. And more than that, I'm much more at ease than I've been for a long time. I'm finally old enough and have enough on my resume that I can go in to a casting director workshop and just do the work. Not spend the time freaking out about whether he'll like me or not, whether my scene partner thinks I'm talented or whether I should have worn a pair of stiletto heels like the girl named "Chartreuse" who just moved here from Atlanta. I know I'm not the next Julia Roberts - let Chartreuse worry about that! But for now, I'm an actress (who's still available to substitute teach) and I'm hoping 2010 just might be a GREAT year!

Is it hot in here or...?

One of the challenges of late-in-life parenting is being surrounded by thirty-somethings who don't realize that one night in the future, they will wake up and be hot. Not hot like Paris Hilton, hot like "OH MY GOD, IS THE HOUSE ON FIRE?" and when they realize it is not, and have thrown all the covers on top of whatever significant other lies beside them, they will quietly wonder... "Is it me?"

Welcome to the winter of my discontent. For the past 6 weeks, I have been intermittently hot, kind of hot, and "OH MY GOD, IS THE MALL ON FIRE?" hot. At first I blamed it on the geese or ducks or whatever we get the down from combined with California's unseasonably warm winter weather, until I found myself in hotel in North Carolina during a snowstorm tripping over the comforters I had thrown to the floor in an effort to find the thermostat so I could turn on the air conditioner... and saw that the temperature in the room was 70 degrees. Not exactly hot like the face of the sun. Since then, I have come to terms with the fact that no, it's not hot in here and yes, it is just me. But really... is it JUST me???? Surely there is some other 49 year old mother of a ten year old who occasionally has the desire to rip off all her clothes and stand in front of the open refrigerator in the middle of the night!

Ah, the middle of the night... that brings up some more uncharted territory - insomnia. It's one thing to wake up in the middle of the night sweating, kick off the covers and go blissfully back to sleep. It's another to get into bed at a reasonable hour and still be awake two and a half hours later, having already completed 4 or 5 rounds of cold (covers on), hot (covers off), really hot (pajamas off), only warm (just the sheet), hot (kick covers onto sleeping husband), cold (put pajamas back on), warm (kick sleeping husband just because), hot (tear off pajamas again). cool (just sheet), cold (pull on corner of comforter), comfortable (ready to fall asleep), fine (any minute now I'll be sleeping), not hot (is that the clock ticking in the bathroom?), starting to get annoyed (why do I not feel tired?!), worried (I'm never going to be able to get up in the morning if I don't get to sleep right NOW!), hungry (maybe if I eat a banana...), mad (how can he sleep when it's so hot in here?!), HOT!!! At which point I get up and log onto Facebook, change my status to my bra color and play wordscraper.

On the bright side, I have no trouble sleeping in the morning. Except - I don't have time to sleep in the morning!!!! I need to be up!!! Breakfasts to make, daughter to wake, vitamins to take - those lazy days of summer are long gone. Except, to be honest, it's still winter break here. (No, I don't know WHY we get so much time off here? So we can travel to YOUR neighborhood where it's cold and snowy and we'll appreciate where we live more?) So I sleep in. For one more day. Then, WHAM! That alarm will go off and we will catapult into the day like a raccoon shot out of a cannon. On the bright side, maybe I won't be hot.