Cranky Pants in the House

Okay, warning, I have my cranky pants on tonight. Let the complaining began.

Today was an eventful day. I gave a presentation on behalf of the American Heart Association at a Kiwanis meeting in my hometown of Issaquah. I did give the disclaimer at the start that "views, opinions, commentary and/or jokes" were my personal opinion and not those of the association. After the Erectile Dysfunction sidetrack at the last presentation I figured I should add that disclaimer. Now I don't know if you have ever been to a Kiwanis meeting, I had not. They are a worldwide service organization and they do a lot of good in our community.
There were about 35 people ranging in age from 30-75. The first 30 minutes of the meeting was very entertaining. I was glad Scott had come to support me because I don't know if I can describe this adequately. But a designated Kiwani (not sure what they call themselves) carried a white hat around the room. People stood and put one dollar bills into the hat. They called it a "happy dollar", then proceeded to tell a story of something that happen to them that week or day. There was also "Sad dollars" and "nostalgia dollars". Here are some examples (edited for time, trust me they liked to hear themselves talk)
Happy Dollars
"Well you know that barn fire the other night." (hmmm...Happy? dollar) "Well that was our neighbors barn and I was the one that called 911. We woke up to popping noises and my husband looked out the window and saw a wall of flames thru the trees. He hopped out of bed swearing up a storm. I had to turn the light on to use the phone because you know now adays they are all portable and you have to turn them on and I couldn't find the on button in the dark. I had never called 911 before so it was very exciting. But I accidentally called 411, city and state please. Darn, finally got it right. The fire department came and put the fire out. The bad news is that the Rooster survived."
Now, if you know me, you must be so proud of me for sitting straight faced during this 30-40 minutes and not making any snarky remarks to Scott. Our favorite Happy dollar was when the gal across from us announced that yesterday she found out she was voted the Queen of Issaquah! So she would not be flipping salmon at the booth since she would be riding in the float during the parade! She was so happy she had tears in her eyes. Everyone Clapped.
No Joke, a woman that had already had her turn, whipped another dollar out of her purse and called the guy back to tell her story of how she was the Queen of Issaquah in like 2001. Not to be outdone, another woman stood, threw a dollar in and said she could top that she was the 2nd Queen in 1963 and since the first one had moved away (probably code for died), that actually made her the 1st Queen. Then a man stood up to announce "I was the King of Issaquah one year which means I am the King today with three Queens." Come on you know I had a list of comments for that one!
Scott later said that he was shocked that the women did that and that the first gal looked very unhappy about it, particularly when one of the gals had corrected her and said she would not be on a float but in a convertible. SNARKY! Loved it! I explained to him that Bitchy had no age limit.
Some of the Sad Dollars involved a detailed story of how a shower leak caused him a $900 plumber bill. Or the one where the man said he would miss the Auction because he had to go to California to deal with a personal and very complicated Family matter that he could not discuss. There were a couple of sad dollars for a wife that was having knee replacement. I was totally waiting for a happy dollar from someone saying their fiber intake was going well and that they had a bowel movement every day that week, hooray!
All I could think was I have a few dollars I would like to throw in that hat. So after the dollar chats it was my turn to speak. Not to be outdone I did mention that I marched in that parade three times winning 1st place ribbons for those performances. Top that Queens. It was a 30 minute discussion of heart health. Because the crowd was "older. I spent a large amount of time on the symptoms of heart attack and stroke. I also encouraged them to all take the time to watch a one minute video on the AHA website to learn hands only CPR. I figured at this age prevention was probably not the key anymore. The brochure I had with me to pass out is called "the seven simple steps". I resent that title. There is nothing "simple" about diet and exercise. Cause if it was "Simple" I would be a size 8.
I believe that the brain of a woman has one of those built in things that the eye doctor uses. You know you look thru it and he/she changes the lenses, "which is better, a or b, c or d". I feel that is the filter we use to see our bodies. Hence eating disorders. Mine seems to change daily. Some days, I am like okay, not bad, getting better. Then there are days or weeks, like now, where I look in the mirror at the gym and only see Humpty Dumpty. Really, forget apple or pear shaped, I am Egg shaped. Maybe it is all the Easter images. But I swear to you that is what I looked like tonight. With the sports bra strapping the girls down, I looked like a giant Easter egg on stilts. It was very distracting. I take two classes on Wednesday nights. The first is a weight lifting class to music called Bodypump. So every time I leaned over to row the darn bar, it was like watching Humpty bend over. So I got more depressed and cranky as the hour went on. It was not so bad when we laid on our backs on the bench and I could suck it in and gravity helped. But as soon as we stood up, Humpty was back. It didn't help that the British instructor who looks like a blonde Leprechaun was wearing a revealing tank and her purchased girls were like two golden eggs mocking me. Plus she yells at us and calls us "team". Trust me I was not feeling like a team player.
So lets say when my dance mommies arrived to join Pam and I for the second hour, a dance aerobics class called S'hbam, I was in rare form. The teacher walks in and it is not the regular (Jen, love her!) it was the Australian. What is this "work outs from around the world" tonight. I was distracted by her microphone pack belt that was bedazzled with the word "Shbam" and riding low enough to be right across her crotch. So I was already thinking of some snarky remarks and vajazzle (google it) jokes. She proceeds to pull out two little buckets filled with Chocolate Easter Candy (egg shaped of course) and four boxes of Peeps. She tells us they don't have peeps in Australia so she is excited to try them and if we work hard in class we can have some. She sets them below the podium directly in front of me. WTH? Are you kidding? Who brings candy to a gym work out class? This really ticks me off. That is like bringing a bottle of Jack Daniels to an AA meeting. Wrong on so many levels.
As we danced and sweat for 45 minutes the candy and the peeps were mocking me. All I could do was stare at it. I can even tell you that there were 40 peeps (my age) 30 pink and 10 purple. I told you it was very distracting. I counted the peeps and wondered how many of the damn things I could shove in the instructors "belt". I bitched and moaned about it the entire class to my "peeps" between tracks. I am sure I was very annoying. No joke, at the end of the class while the five of us collected our water bottles and our jackets, at least a dozen women headed for that pile of candy. I have an "angry dollar" for you gals.

The Sixth Sense

We had a fabulous Dance Team Weekend. Even though it has been only about 52 hours since the whole thing started, it felt like an entire week! For those that don't know what I am talking about a Convention is a Dance Team Competition combined with Dance Classes and Shows put on by professional dancers. The Girls (and some boys) get to dance with people from the shows So You Think You Can Dance and famous dancer/choreographers. The guest teacher this weekend was the guy that is playing the lead in the new Footloose remake. (he was yummy) These things are super fun but super exhausting for everyone. This one took place at the Seattle Westin. We commuted from home but sometimes we stay in the hotel. Being Budget aware was why we commuted but I am starting to think it is the better route. I heard it took 15-30 minutes to get up and down elevators this weekend, ran out of hot water in the hotel,$49 overnight parking and lots of noisy girls and sirens kept parents awake. So I am glad to have saved the 400-500 bucks and slept soundly at home!

To give you an idea of how exhausting these things are, Hayley started after school on Friday at 3:15 with a Tap rehearsal, then hair and make up. Down to Seattle. Three costume changes, compete, and awards done at about 10:00 p.m. There was one trip to the lobby bar around 5:00ish. Then we left the house Saturday at 6:45 am and got home at 10:30 p.m. The competition actually didn't get done until an hour late at 12:30 am. I guess a dancer got kicked in the nose and bled all over the stage. Who said dance wasn't a sport?

But we were excused from the awards because I had a little episode during the evening. I had the Spins and Dizzy thing going on, Almost passed out in the back of the audience. How humiliating that would have been. Of course this caused me much anxiety because that is how I felt prior to my pacemaker surgery and when it happen then my heart stopped. I was totally stressed and self conscious about making a scene. I am so tired of not being normal. But this was another example of how tight dance families are. My mommy friends took great care of me, when I admitted to a few trusted moms that I was having a problem, they totally rallied. Mary had me lay down in her room after a trip to the blood pressure machine at Bartells. She took care of my daughter while I moved my van due to downtown parking limits and made a trip to the pharmacy. This was a huge relief. That way I could talk on the phone to my husband in the car and cry and pitch a fit about not feeling well without any witnesses except for the homeless crackhead that kept tapping on my car window. When I screamed "leave me alone", Scott almost hung up on me.

We shared carpool duties so today I slept in and felt much better. I was determined to show up for the parent class at 1:15. Hayley started up at 8:30 this morning, getting home after 6:00. I still was not feeling 100% but I have been referred to as "sickly" and it hurts. I am determined for my kids to not see me this way or be fearful that mommy is not strong enough. I know the previous evening worried my daughter, this was my way to show her I was just fine. The pain was worth that. The parent class is an opportunity for us moms and dads to show that the dancing talent of our children in most of our cases is clearly not genetic. At some of these things they actually have us learn a routine and dance it on stage in front of the teams and other parents at the closing show. I have fond memories of dancing to Beyonce's Single Ladies a couple of years back. I live to embarrass my daughter, just another service I provide. This year was Disco Inferno and out of all the hundreds of parents there were only about a dozen of us with the balls to show up and 7 were from our team. It was during the girl's lunch break so many of them were able to come in and watch us learn and perform. My daughter was a conflicted combination of horrified and proud. I know there are photos and videos floating around, oh no. But to my disappointment it was not performed in the closing show. Sorry folks the live webcast was a no go.

During the closing show, it is packed with parents and dancers. Probably a thousand people? The professionals put on a show that is worthy of any theatre on Broadway. They showcase the best dances from each studio. They also honor dancers with "scholarships" or awards for their performances in class and auditions. We have been attending these events for 6 seasons now. Never has Hayley won one. She is what you might call a "backrow Joe". She is a great little dancer but she is never the one that grabs the attention. That and her height generally puts her in the back. Our attitude has always been that it is a privilege and honor to even make the team so already you are special and you are clearly talented. She never complains. This past year I could see she really was envious of the girls singled out at conventions. One of her coaches noticed she has really been putting in extra effort this past month. She also has had to really work hard at Tap. She was told she needed to do some catch up and dance extra hours to maintain her spot on her team. She has. So it made it even more special when she was singled out during Tap Class by a very famous and amazing Tapper for recognition. When her name was called for a scholarship and she went on stage to accept it, I was so excited for her. It made all the hours of sacrifice worth it.

It was also during this closing show that I yet again (see spring break drug bust story) got to use my sixth sense, aka mommy sense. I am certain that when I am with either of my children I have a heightened awareness that I don't have when I am alone. Case in point, injuries that I have had at my own hand seem to happen when my kids are not around. I think my mind takes a break and allows the stupidity factor to come into effect. There must be some scientific way to prove this theory. I am certain that I can remember someones name way better when I am in Mommy Mode than when I am out with my girlfriends. Now alcohol may have something to do with this but who knows.

I am always on edge at these events. They are in public, generally free of charge and you are surrounded by hundreds of strangers. Add to that hundreds of girls from ages 7-18 in various states of undress in dressing rooms and in costumes ranging from chicken suits to something you might see on a stripper pole (not at our studio thankfully). I hate to admit it out loud, but seriously it is a pedophiles dream. It would be like someone giving me a key to the Top Pot donut shop after hours and saying help yourself and btw they are all calorie free. In the past I have been aware of security escorting photo takers or other creeps out. But it is not like they are checking a special id on all the adults that says "I am a parent of a dancer and have a right to be here". I have let Hayley become more independent at these events but today that trend took a hit.

I have a false sense of security at the Westin because the event takes place on the 4th floor away from easy access to the big bad world outside. Like a few rides on an escalator would stop a person. Prior to the closing show starting tonight I was trying to find a seat in the packed room. I had gotten a chair on the side but the standing folks were going to block my few. I noticed a friend sitting nearby. Next to her was a guy that set my mommy sense off. Initially I batted away the feeling and chastised myself for being such a judgemental bitch. The phrase don't judge a book by its cover came to mind. Didn't I just lecture my daughter on that recently. Didn't I tell her not to be upset about not being recognized because it is the flashy ones that get noticed not the steady eddies? But that she shouldn't judge those girls. Just cause they look and dress like little attention whores doesn't mean they don't have substance and talent. So here I was thinking I don't like the look of that guy cause he is dressed all in gray, jacket, sweater, jeans wearing a flannel baseball hat pulled low. He was white, very tall and heavy. He had a kind of dorky white guy buzz cut and may have been missing a couple of teeth. Talk about profiling, TSA has nothing on me. He had a McDonalds soda and really seemed to be interested in watching everyone around him. But this was only one person in a crowd, why was he bothering me. Maybe because he was sitting next to my friend, maybe cause he didn't smile. He left the room at one point and left his jacket on the back of his chair. I promptly moved his end of the row chair over one and put my chair in its place. This way I didn't have to stand on my chair to see the show, remember mommy danced disco a couple of hours before. I figured he wouldn't notice cause he didn't look very smart. (oops, see, book, cover etc.)

I asked Renee if she knew him, she said no. I was relieved because I was hoping it was not her new boyfriend. He came back and we watched him go up and down the rows "looking for his chair and Soda". Hmmm, it was not hiding, it was obvious where it was. But he seem to be looking at the kids up front on the floor, the girls in costumes getting ready to perform. We waved and pointed to his chair, he sat. My mommy sense was buzzing. About 15 minutes into the show a group of girls age 7-10 came on stage in what can only be described as little slut costumes. Complete with bare midriff, knee high socks and pigtail dancing to a Lady Gaga song. At this point he seemed really alert. Before I made any snarky remarks to Renee about the costumes I decided to turn to him and confront him in my best polite manner. Best polite means bitchy with a smile.

"Excuse me, what studio does your daughter dance for?"

He had an oh shit expression on his face yet also took on defiant body language. "I don't have a daughter"
Ok, I turn my attention back to the stage. Okay, What would the bionic woman do? Ignore him? Hell no.

"excuse me, sorry, are you here to support a family member?"

"No, I am meeting someone"

Back to watching the little sluts I mean dancers on stage. Who the hell meets up with someone at a dance convention on the fourth floor of a hotel? "Hey want to meet at Denny's?" "No, meet me at the Jump dance tour closing show at 3:15 on the fourth floor of the Westin" I turned to Renee and told her what he said. She said maybe he is meeting a teacher or staff of the show. We both raised our eyebrows at each other and I was thinking "Renee way to try to be positive but does he look like someone these handsome and mostly very gay dancers are going to meet up with?"

Oh f*(( it, I have wanted to verbally kick someones butt all week.

"again excuse me sir, but which studio does that person work for or dance with?"

He starts to fidget and lean towards me.

In for a penny, in for a pound. "Cause this show is for family only so if you don't personally know someone here that you can introduce me too, you are going to want to leave right now"

He casually stood and grabbed his coat and started to walk towards the back. Again, penny and a pound, no way am I letting him go back out in the lobby where the dressing room is with the door opening and shutting constantly giving him glimpses of all these girls which at this point are now my honorary daughters. I marched after him. When I got outside the doors I started loudly asking for security which made him pick up his step. I could not find one person that looked like security so I grabbed the guy behind the counter selling sweatshirts. He happen to be the dancer that taught my parent class. I half expected I would have to take care of this myself. Again, don't judge the book. Cause this smallish (and hot) man that obviously didn't play for my team, turned into one fierce man when I told him about this guy and my suspicions. I pointed him out over by the dressing room doors. At this point the perv headed for the escalator. The fierce Gay who I now thought of as my own personal body guard, said "well it looks like he is leaving".

I said "Uh I want him out of this building completely, but I also don't want to miss the show" Hey I have some priorities and I pay a lot of money for these things. Maybe I scared him or he wanted to kick someones butt too, but he followed him. My daughter says I can be a little scary when I want something done. I like to call that look and demeanor "motivating" not scary. I didn't see Super Gay again but I assume he handled it.

When I headed back in I saw at the entrance a Dance Dad from our old team that is also my facebook friend. He also happens to be a pro body builder and a parole officer. Very convenient! So I gave him a detailed description and he said the guy would not make it past the door. I also told another Dance Dad near the back of the room who is a member of our fine military. I figured between those two Dads the man was not going to be a man anymore if he came back. Plus I am pretty sure Super Gay could pulverize him with just a look! I was then able to sit back down and enjoy the show.

Before doing this I very calmly said to a mom standing nearby who was trying not to look exhausted "excuse me you can have this chair. The man sitting there was a pervert and won't be needing it anymore because I chased him away". She didn't even question me she just said an extra warm Thank You and sat down to cheer on her daughter.

Yeah, that's the way I roll.

Dance Dance Dance

Have you watched Toddlers and Tiaras? Well, it is not quite as extreme as that but Competitive Dance can be some of the best people watching ever. As I type I am sitting in the hotel lobby at the Westin in Downtown Seattle. Angel and I have been having a great time enjoying our own company and periodically other dance mommies company. We were here from 6:00 pm until 10:00 pm last night and back in Seattle at 7:15 this morning. We knew it would be a good dance weekend when it started with a trip to the lobby bar within 5 minutes of dropping the girls off in the dressing rooms. We had a blast watching and critiquing all the other studios in the competition last night. Simon Cowel has nothing on us. I snort laughed so many times I thought there was a farm animal in our aisle. You can't help it when you or your friend say something like "those pants are an unfortunate choice for a costume" or "that poor boy is going to get his ass kicked in high school"
We are tired. Now the trip to Top Pot Donuts where I proceeded to pull out a thermos of Baileys and offer to spike every ones coffee, well that may have something to do with the strong need to nap right now. Basically our role here is to serve our daughters. Like the hired help. Not only do we get to pay large amounts of money for the privilege of being on a team, we get to sit for hours watching dance after dance, bring them lunch and snacks, put on make up, eyelashes and do their hair. See why I live to embarrass her? It is pay back for the dance mommy servitude.
After doing this for six years now, I have to say this is the most relaxed year ever for me. Even with all of the other stress in my life, dance has been a nice enjoyable anchor. Part of it is the people. Angel and I were commenting on how some mommies show up at 7 am, fully decked out. Designer clothes, full make up and hair and jewelry. Really? It was all I could do to shower this morning and get my medical id bracelet on. I am sorry but if I am going to run around and also sit for hours I am going for comfort; no heels, tennis shoes, yoga pants, tshirt, sweatshirt, pony tail. Wait that is pretty much me every day. Angel and I were making fun of ourselves and our matching outfits. She said it was worse in Texas where they used to live. The women would dress to the nines at football games and then say passive aggressive things like "Angel, you are so silly" "look at your simple clothes" "You are so confident to dress like that" We have also heard: "You just don't care what people think, that is so great" People say Northwesterners are so polite, wrong!
Let me translate what they are really saying "I am so glad you dress like a slob, it makes me look good" or "I wish I could wear comfortable clothes too but my self esteem is way too low"
Love it! I told her I want to go get this tshirt made next door at the mall that says "I would love to chat, but you are a total bitch". That should be what I wear sitting in the lobby!
Bottom Line, the girls are having an amazing time dancing with pros from the shows "so you think you can dance" and the new lead in the remake of movie "footloose".
So while those mommies spend their day shopping at Nordstroms trying to find the perfect outfit, walking around Seattle in their high heeled uncomfortable boots; Angel and I will walk to Top Pot Donuts for the second time with our draw string pants and sneakers. Who do you really think will have more fun?

The Adventures of Dawn

Seriously I swear I don't make any of this up, this is the stuff that actually happens in my life. So I was sound asleep in the guest bedroom, referred to in our house as "the blue room" or "mom's cave". I have this lovely red Pottery Barn Day Bed under the window. Lots of pillows, an ipod player and my pile of books on the nightstand right next to my bottle of Ambien. I stayed up too late again last night chatting with Tamese, searching the internet, blogging, playing lexulous and registering my Heart Walk Team. I am highly productive at night! Wish that Ambien would just knock me out! I finally fell asleep about 1:00. I had warm pajamas, lots of blankets and cracked the window to enjoy the fresh crisp snowy air. All of a sudden I heard the scraping of metal and was fully awake (which if you have ever witnessed a morning with me, that is quite a feat, I don't wake quickly) The dog was on red alert too. My cell phone said it was 5:00 am. I kneeled under the window and looked out. I expected to see the black bear that had recently been photographed at a neighbors. I thought maybe he might be trying to open the door of my minivan and get all the leftover crap the kids leave all over the darn van. We had received City Alerts lately about a rash of car prowls and Garage thefts. Our area has a habit of leaving their doors open. What I saw was a Medium sized, yellow, Penske, Moving Truck Parked in front of the neighbors dark house across the culdesac. It blocked my view of their porch and garage doors. I could hear what sounded like stolen goods being loaded into the back of the van. I then spotted a person with a headlamp, it appeared they were coming from the side of the neighbor's house. I know the kids at that house go to private school maybe they are away on Spring Break. Yes, I grabbed my cell phone and called 911.

"911, What is your emergency?"

"I think my neighbors house is being robbed by a moving van. Well, I mean a guy driving a moving van"

"What are they doing" "I can't tell, the neighbors might be out of town, but why would a moving van be at their house at 5 in the morning"

"We have three officers on their way" ( I love that the City of Sammamish has such low crime that I get the entire force to respond )

" Oh, no, hurry, they heard me talking and now they are running to the truck and have started the engine. They are leaving"

"mam, which way are they heading"

I run to the master bedroom on the back of the house. "Scott wake the hell up, the neighbors house just got robbed" "The Truck is heading down Main towards the traffic circle and they are driving really fast, tell them to hurry!" "Do you want my husband to follow them?"

"NO! Do not follow them" "Ok, we got the truck stopped, an officer will be contacting you shortly"

"Ok, let me call the neighbor and see if they are home"

"Patty? Are you home?" (duh I just called her) "I think you just got robbed, get up. There was a Penske moving truck loading at your house, I called the police."

"Uh, well I did order predawn Amazon Fresh Delivery"

Uh Oh..."Would they deliver it in a moving truck"

Call Waiting.... "This is the police, we have the vehicle, they say they were delivering something"

"Yes the neighbor said they were having Amazon Fresh Delivered and I have walked outside and it is on their porch"
"Yes, this is the neighbor's phone number to confirm "

"My Name?"

No, it is not Gladys Kravitz.

My Go Red, Dress collage

Spring Break...

Of course my kids complained all week about how boring Spring Break was and how so and so was in Hawaii, and so and so was in California. Well hey kids, we did fun stuff too, HELLO. Budget conscious much,children? Mommy needs a new job. But aren't you happy I am home for you?
Older child: "No, I want you back to work so we are not poor, I can dance and I want another pair of vans" Younger child, he won't fail me" "Yeah mom, I want some more ds games, so maybe you should get a new job" Nice, I have made such an impression on my children, so I was going to give them some fun things to talk about for their Spring Break. See "this is how we roll" for our day in Seattle. For gosh sakes we broke up a drug deal? Hmm, did the Smiths do that in Maui?
Then we went swimming with the Spencers at the Gym Pool. I sat and read a book and pretended I had a fruity drink. See kids just like the pool in Vegas.
Then we had movie day at the nice theater, Lincoln and Saw "Hop". As an easter themed movie I brought all the kids goodie bags full of easter candy heaven. When Hayley and I walked in and I saw Karen waving, I waved back and said loudly for all to hear "We are here now the movie can start" My daughter actually kicked me. Oh bring it on. So when a hip dance song came on, Karen and I were dancing erratically with lots of arms in our seats while all the girls tried to pretend not to know us. But they would not go that far since I had the candy. But about halfway into that movie we had to find things to entertain ourselves. Cause clearly we were not getting that 90 minutes of our lives back. I am so having tshirts made for me and Karen that say "embarrassing my children: Just another service I provide" Plus I was giddy for it to be done since I was going to be dropping Hayley with Scott and heading to Hood Canal for my spring break of solitude, books, some collage crafts and Glee marathon.
I was disappointed in most of the Second Season Glee episodes. The Jumping the Shark phrase came to mind. But I did get to collage which is me making use of all the catalogs I get that my spouse bitches about. I rip them up, glue them in a design and paint modge podge on them. I love it! It is my version of knitting. Photo attached is of the Go Red logo. I made this one to inspire me to interview well for that job! Cross your fingers for me!

Need to start moving again....

So my exercise train has slowed down. I am getting in a few classes of bodypump and shbam a week. But it is not enough. The fatigue and the stress of waiting to hear if I can get a job at my dream location is weighing on me. But I am glad that Kristen got me to go Shbam tonight. I almost didn't due to a bad ride with the red curry train at lunch with Tamese. But Kristen and I were there.
It was a large and ecletic group of "flygirl wannabes". Women of all sizes, ages and dancing ability! The thing I noticed today, from my position with K in the back row, besides the flashing butt cracks on those that need to go up a size in their work out pants, was that it seems that there were an abnormal number of shoulder blade tattoos going on. Is this the new trend? Seemed it was the tramp stamp or the lower back butt crack ones for a while. Are those out of vogue now? Age didn't seem to be an issue on the ones I saw today. With my high school drill team training I can follow along pretty accurately and my arms are sharp. Plus if there is any marching in a routine I am all over that.
But I look around and just am amazed at the amount of people in the room that can not even hear the beat or coordinate their left from their right. It does not seem to be an age affliction. Some of the worst ones are the young sorority girl types. Maybe they are too hung over, who knows. But I am telling you it is so good for my ego, Kristen and I actually look decent. We stay on track and we are moving and sweating that is all we can ask for. And when we have to do the "shake em" moves, you know what "em" is. Us chesty, breast fed more than one child, women, we can shake it for sure. We might give ourselves whiplash but we go all out. Today we decided before next week we need to find out what bra Karen uses cause she is well endowed and those babies are so well strapped down they don't move.
The instructor Jen is our favorite. She is fun, she is enthusiastic and she makes me want to perform for her. Except today I was still recovering from my tummy issues so I spent more time being distracted by the other dancers. I was snarky mom tonight. Jen kept catching me smiling and laughing and was like "yes that is what I want to see, smiles and enjoyment of the movement" Uh, no, Jen, sorry I was laughing at that chick in the front that is acting like the white half sister of Beyonce that they keep hidden in the basement. Gasp! Bad DAWN, I know! Sorry.
We ended the class with a Flashdance song, shoot me now, was what I was thinking. And I do not do a conga line ever, so Jen next time you try that fun trick with 40 sweaty people leave me out of it or it's gonna get ugly. At least I like having Kristen there, I know if I pass out she is strong enough to take control and know what to do. Plus she would have my back in an anti-conga line battle.
Okay, I will admit it, it is time to go back to Hot Yoga. It will be like starting over so I better review the start of this blog and "what I learned about hot yoga" before I go again. My hip is not healing with the rest and ice and etc, so I might as well go back to what seem to be working. At least it was so difficult and made me so delusional that I won't notice I am still fat.

Play Ball!

It is that time of year, Baseball Season has started. It is the time of year when my husband gets sad about our daughter. She still chooses to compete in Dance and not Softball/Baseball. Poor guy, he had such high hopes, she played boys baseball for a few years until dance took over. She is good with no practice. I think he imagines a UW scholarship down the road and the College world series. But no it is not to be at this point. He has to settle for our 8 soon to be 9 year old son playing AA coach pitch for another year.
Here is Henry the first practice "Baseball? I didn't sign up for Baseball, who said I wanted to do that, I want to play Basketball"
Me "Henry you play every year, Daddy and I really like watching you."
Henry " I want to play basketball"
Me "that season just ended, you will play again when it starts back up, now you play baseball"
Henry "I am not playing baseball"
Me "yes you are"
Henry "no I am not, you can wear my cup and play"
Me "very funny young man" (of course I am thinking mommy's balls are too big for that cup), "but we are going to practice at 4:30"
We got to practice and he had a great time with his new team. The deciding factor seem to be that his team is the "Mariners" this year. Scott is only hoping that he pays attention this year, doesn't pick grass in outfield or get beaned at first base cause he is chatting up the runner on base.
So I went shopping at Sport Authority to get him new gray baseball pants since last years are white and look like knickers and he could be waiting for a flood. Also, he needs a new cup since the puppy chewed up the one from last year. They are required to wear them which I never understood because really what's to protect at this age. But then I saw a kid take a ball off the cup and that sucker ricochet pretty hard. So there I am at Sports Authority looking like a lurker or perv. I was holding up pants and seeing if there were any kids in the store about his size to see if I was getting the right size. Then I found the hidden rack of cupville. Holy Crap, this is what Dad's are for damnit. There is an entire wall of these things. Come on I don't even know which way is up on the thing. Plus they are different colors and have gel sides in some of them, boxers, briefs, wth is a slider short. This should have been a Dad job and I immediately decided that their Dad would be the one to go buy Hayley her first box of tampons when needed.
So I fingered the many packages and was lurking about when a handsome man about my age walked by. I startled him by accosting him. I nudged him towards what I am now calling the wall of doom.
I said "Please help me out here since you have the parts and I don't, but which size would I buy for my 8 year old"
Him "Well my 8 year old is big so I would get this one" (bright blue) flustered he says "I mean he is a big kid."
I say before I can help myself "Isn't that what all the Dad's say?" "Okay, mine is a tall skinny thing of about 55 pounds and I don't want to question his or my spouses manhood by buying the one for 5-6 year olds called PeeWee cup; so do you think I could get away with the neon green one for 8-9 year olds? Can you pad them like a training bra to make it more comfortable? Do you go by like crotch/hip size or the volume of the junk you put in the cup?"
At this point he was slowly edging away from me...looking for a sales person to save him from the crazy lady.
"Thanks for your help I think I will go with the green one, my son likes green"
He quickly switched aisles. I can't wait to see if he is a dad on our team or if we play his team.