The Summer Scene

So the offspring have been on summer break for eleven days.  And I've yet to hear that dreaded phrase that so often accompanies summer vacation--"I'm bored."  This is, without a doubt, a personal record for my crew.

It may even be Guinness worthy.

The pool is getting a lot of use.  Like every day.  Which is a huge relief for me.  For several reasons.  #1--I was the one that pushed for the pool in the first place.  Better Half really didn't want one (which he reminded me of when we were fighting about discussing the $$ involved in maintaining it the other day.  Whatever.  :o)  They say a picture is worth a thousand words.  And the screensaver on his phone isn't a picture of me...or one of the kids...or one of our gorgeous mountain view.  It's a picture of the pool.  Not even kidding.).  #2--I'm too cheap to heat it.  And since the temperature actually drops into the sixties and seventies after the sun goes down around here, I was afraid that the water would never get warm enough to enjoy without a wet suit.  #3--I'm too cheap to turn on the central air in the house.  I figure we can run the pool pump, or we can run the AC.  I'd like to keep my 283 day streak of au naturale climate control going.  I'm shooting for an entire calendar year.  #4--I just didn't want it to be like the trampoline, the swing set, the "Dance Dance Revolution" mats for the PlayStation.  You know...used faithfully for a month, and then pretty much abandoned.

My mom's been here for the past week.  And That. Has. Been. Awesome.  I don't think I'm going to let her go back home.  You know that sign that gets posted in communal dorm bathrooms?  "Attention:  Your Mother Doesn't Live Here!"  Yeah, well, my mom is here, so when I set my coffee cup and cereal bowl on the kitchen counter, leave, and come back, they're rinsed and put in the dishwasher.   It's better than magic!  My kitchen has been clean every single day she's been here.  And not just SRS-probably-won't-take-my-kids-away-if-they-walked-through-here, but CLEAN.  With swept floors and everything. Which is probably another record.    And that's just the icing on the cake of chats on the patio over coffee, watching great and inspiring people give talks on YouTube,  or laughing every time we have an opportunity to remember the Polish proverb--"Not my circus.  Not my monkeys."  Which seems to be often.

So I kind of made this commitment not to buy any books from Amazon this summer.  Not kind of.  Actually.  Like--I even wrote it down and signed my name to it.  I didn't include any other specific bookstores in the agreement, but I think they're implied in the spirit of the thing.  So that's been kind of a bummer a great exercise in self-discipline for me.  Instead, I'm using the Los Angeles County Public Library.  Which seems like it would be really easy.  Not so much.  Our little branch has next to nothing.  EVERYTHING has to be requested.  The requesting part is easy.  It's the waiting for it to arrive that stinks.  I hope that when the books finally arrive, I still want to read them.

Speaking of reading--I just finished A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki.  It was fantastic.  My sweet sister sent it.  I enjoyed it almost as much as the handwritten note she tucked inside.  I'm working on Falling Upward:  A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life by Richard Rohr, which was a gift from my brother.  If it wasn't for the fact that the volume I have is a signed copy from the author, I would totally have the thing marked up with yellow highlighter and notes in the margins.  And Finding Yourself in Transition:  Using Life's Changes for Spiritual Awakening by Robert Brumet (a gift from my mother) is sitting on my nightstand.  Can I just say how much I love my book-loving family? Okay.  Fine.  Maybe I should be able to wait a few days for the library.

I'm attempting to cook a cast-iron skillet into submission.  All of my Google searches on the subject indicate that the secret is a good quality skillet (check) and  time.  Well, since I'm such a patient person by nature, you can guess how much fun I'm having with this particular adventure.

Better Half has been in Arizona for the past ten days with Nelly for a baseball tournament.  TEN. I cannot even imagine what that baseball uniform now looks like after ten days of hotel laundry facilities. They'll come home on Friday and then turn right back around and head back for another week with Corb. I guess we had so much fun living apart last year, we thought we'd try it again this summer.   I am quite possibly the only person ever to live in Southern California who is considering summer real estate in Arizona--where, according to Better Half, the temperatures were still hanging in the hundreds at 9pm a few nights ago.

I've been watching more TV than usual.  I'm not at all proud of this fact.  And I'm totally blaming it on the Amazon book ordering freeze.   But what I have discovered is that nothing highlights First World problems quite like every program on HGTV.

Except for possibly this blog.  :)









 

 

In The Event of an Emergency

Back in September a directive came home from J's school:

"Please pack a gallon Zip-Lok bag with a couple of juice boxes, a couple of non-perishable snacks, and anything that might help your child to feel calmer in the event of a disaster or emergency.  Please label the bag with your child's name, teacher, and room number, and turn it in to the school office."

I remember it like it was yesterday.  And I remember the flood of thoughts in my head:

I was NEVER asked to do ANYTHING like this in Kansas!  What kind of place IS this?

My kid won't even leave the house if there are clouds in the sky.  What on earth do you people possibly think I could put in this bag that might even remotely help her to feel calmer?

And this one.  The big one.

There could be a disaster at my daughter's school and she would be in the hands of total and complete strangers.  People I don't know--who don't know me and who don't know her.  People for whom she's just another one of the 500+ kids that the State of California requires this place to educate and protect in the event of an emergency.

See, here at this school, her principal isn't the wife of her T-Ball coach from kindergarten.  Her best friend's mom isn't the Early Childhood teacher just a wing away.  Her former teachers aren't here.  Neither is my friend from college, or the mother of one of the girls from our dance studio, or my friend whose son also plays baseball with my boys, or our wonderful friend from church who has known my kids since they were in diapers.

Those people care about my daughter.  I know with every fiber of my being that they would put the safety and security of my daughter on the same level of priority as that of their own children.

So with a horrible, awful, pit in my stomach, I packed the bag and dropped it off at school.

Today, when I was straightening up the kitchen, my eyes fell on this:

The school had sent home the bag, with all of the contents still inside (minus a juice box, which I strongly suspect was part of yesterday's after-school snack).

And I thought back to September and what I didn't know back then:

That even though J's principal wasn't the wife of her T-ball coach from kindergarten, she would take time out of her busy day  multiple times to visit with my daughter about her concerns and get to know us personally.

That the office staff would graciously allow me to sit for an entire morning in their small space so that I could be "on the premises" on a day that my daughter was particularly nervous.  And that these two ladies had the perfect mix of empathy and "You'll be fine. Go back to class."  that my daughter needed to overcome that nervousness.

That Thursdays would become my daughter's favorite days of the week because of 'Miss Michelle.'

That there's a second-grade teacher at this school who is so amazingly wonderful, I almost wish I could have another child, just so he or she could be in her class.  Almost.

That all three sixth-grade teachers would, in just a short year's time, get to know my girl as an individual.  They would provide her with opportunities to use her gifts and abilities, encourage her to stretch and grow, and improve her areas of weakness.  They would also provide classroom environments where she could easily and safely make friends.

That these friends would welcome us into things like their mother-daughter book club.

That Robert, the crossing guard, grew up in Manhattan, Kansas.  And nearly every day we'd talk about K-State, the Chiefs, or the Royals.

That all of these people would make my daughter's safety and security their top priority.  Not just because she was another one of 500.  But because she matters to each of them.

That my daughter has girlfriends with mothers who, if they got there before I could, would step right in and take care of mine like she was their own.

That I would hug every one of these people today with grateful tears in my eyes as I said goodbye and told them thanks for all they've done.  

And that even though I can see why it's nice to have families put together "disaster" bags for their kids, it isn't really necessary.

 Although I am so thankful that we never. ever.  had to test it, I am certain that what my child was going to truly need to make her--and me--feel more comfortable in the event of an emergency was the support of these amazing people. And that system was already in place.

Framily Ties

Framily.

I first heard this word used back in March.  Sprint apparently launched some kind of new cell phone plan.

I didn't pay any attention at all to the plan, but I snatched the word.

It's the portmanteau that I've been looking for to describe this beautiful thing that I have.

So here's the definition according to Casey:

fram / i / ly (noun)  A combination of traditional relatives and dear close friends who behave like relatives that assist in making this crazy, harried, wonderful life saner, calmer, and even more wonderful.

And my prayer for you, Dear Reader, is that you have one of these that is as great as mine is.

Because I've got framily in spades.  Not EVEN kidding.

I could write an entire BOOK on my framily.  A chapter for each person.  Or for each life event where they've swooped in to help, encourage, support, or celebrate.  And it would rival War and Peace for length.

And since we're wrapping up our first school year in a brand-new state, it seems appropriate to give a special shout-out to these amazing people who've helped me to get through it.

These people:

Spent countless hours and elbow grease to help us get our house ready to sell.

Stayed at my house until midnight the night before I left cleaning out my fridge and helping me get two weeks' worth of clothing into a carry-on suitcase.

Took days off of work to drive us to the airport AND to drive 3 1/2 hours ONE WAY to see us off at said airport AND let their daughter skip school to ride along and wave "bon voyage" to mine.

Sent me text messages, Facebook posts, and made phone calls--telling me how much I was missed and how stupid California is.

Sent email messages telling me how great California is and that I should be glad I get to live here.

Rearrange their entire lives and open their homes when I decide that I need to come back "home."  Even if it's at the most hectic time of year.  They make time for coffee dates in the freezing cold on their much-earned and needed vacations.  They arrange schedules to meet for dinner or drinks when I come into town.

Patiently answerd my medical questions even though after nine months, we really should have a local doctor.

And the visitors!!!  Oh, my stars!  The VISITORS!!

See, when you say you're moving to a place like California, everyone says they'll come visit.  Of course they do.  Beaches, Disneyland, The Hollywood Stars Tour :)...

But life happens.  And let's face it.  Plane tickets to Los Angeles aren't cheap.

And yet...we've had visits from:

This guy back in September.  Okay. Fine.  Technically, he was here for work.  But he asked ME to be his "and guest" for the Netflix After Emmy Party!!  Seriously.  I'm still swooning nine months later.  My beautiful sister-in-law was unable to attend, so she sent her shoes instead. :)  I did my best to physically and metaphorically fill them, and we had loads of fun hanging out with Nathan and a few of his "buddies from the office."

These special ladies in October.  They arrived just in time to celebrate our first Halloween California-style and stayed for an entire week--which went by way too fast!  I have no words to describe what these two mean to me.  Because when I try to think of some, my eyes fill up with tears and I can't see the computer screen.  The pain of missing them has caused me to have to pull over in parking lots and ugly cry.  Not once, but on multiple occasions.  Their visit made California not only bearable, but fun for me--even if just for seven days.  

This crew--who trekked out to gather around our dining room table and help us celebrate our first Thanksgiving far away from "home."  It was a wonderful weekend!  

My sweet sis--who, incidentally, was the first person to carve out vacation and book tickets to see us in a house we didn't yet own in a state where we didn't yet technically live. :)  Tickets were purchased last July, and it was really hard to wait until January!  But so worth it!!  What a lovely week we had!  Everyone should have a sister like mine and an "Aunt Mac" like my kids have.  I'm totally scoping out the job situation, and it's my new mission to get her to relocate.  Which my mother will, I am certain, kill me for.  :)

Some of our favorite couples ever!!  Neither had very long to stay, but they both made a point of stopping in and staying for a bit.  It meant the world to get to share our new little corner of the world with them!

My dad and his wife--who win the "love those wings" award--for flying in and out of the closest and most convenient airport to my house.  :)  We totally repaid the favor by treating them to a beautiful view of California desert and an afternoon of geeking out at the Nixon Library.  Okay.  Fine.  We repaid my dad.  We still owe Sue.

This. Girl.  Yeah.  She's amazing.  She used HER birthday gift of round-trip tickets to California to surprise ME for my birthday.  I couldn't ask for a better oldest daughter.  When she's here, our home is complete.  When she's not, it just isn't.  And the selfies are way better!  

These four ladies--who made the impossible happen.  They cleared busy schedules, spent money that I'm certain the family budgets could have used other places, so we could all be together for the same weekend. A quick blurb about these women:  I met all of them in my early 20s.  We were in the "young married" small group at church. These ladies watched me "grow up" as a "grownup."  They've seen the good, the bad, the crazy, the ugly.  And they love me anyway.  Unconditionally.  They're the friends that I can go months without seeing or talking to, and yet when we get together, it's like no time has passed. They ask questions, voice opinions, and share stories--and listening to and chatting about all of those things make me a better person.  

So that brings us to the here and now.

But wait!

There's more!

My amazing mommy arrives in six days!! And she's staying for two weeks!! TWO!  She'll be here for her birthday!!  And J's dance recital.

I just got an email from my college roommate.  She just started this delicious new job with UNICEF (because she's really amazing like that) and even with no vacation to speak of, she's planning to fly out here and spend the 4th of July weekend with us!

My dear, sweet, amazing, strong, inspiring friend, Jen from Kansas City (who truly knows EVERYTHING about me and still wants to hang out--SMH) is bringing her kids out for a visit mid-July.  My kids + her kids = a wonderful friendship.

And I just got a Facebook message from one of Better Half's cousins.  He's bringing HIS crew out for a few days at the end of July!!  It is going to be so fun to share this place with people who have our same last name!  We haven't gotten to do that, yet.

Truly.  I have the most perfect framily for me.  I love each and every one of you.  

So take a moment if you will, Dear Reader--if you've managed to hang with me for all of this--and offer up thanks for the people in your life who belong to this amazing group.  

They make this beautiful life so much better.

Do You Want to Build a Snowman?

As far as I am concerned, this is not only a rhetorical question, but a silly one at that.

Having spent 40 years of my life in the Midwest, I've had enough snowman-building to last me a lifetime,  Plus, the raw materials are a little hard to come by where I live now.

But there's this movie that Disney released around Christmastime.  And unless you are living under a rock, you've probably heard about it/seen it 32 bajillion times/can sing every word of the soundtrack/have regular nightmares about it.

We aren't immune here in sunny Southern California for several reasons:

1.  I have a twelve-year-old daughter.  Disney movies about princesses are still "cool."

2.  My best friend has a daughter who LOVES Frozen.  Specifically "Snowman."

3.  My nineteen-year-old daughter had her heart set on giving the aforementioned moppet a stuffed Olaf for her 2nd birthday.

This shouldn't be a problem, right?  I mean, Southern California!  This is the birthplace of all things Disney.  The home of Disneyland.  There's a Disney store on every corner.  Finding a stuffed Olaf was going to be a piece of cake.

Yeah.  No.

The Frozen merchandise in every Disney Store we went to could be displayed on a two-shelf end cap and counted on one hand.

A swimming suit.  (Seriously?  A Frozen swimming suit?  Anyone else shaking your head?)
A winter coat.  (Okay.  That one, I get.)
Flip-flops.  (No words.)
A plate and bowl set with the good guy and his reindeer.  (I don't remember their names, and I'm not ABOUT to stick the movie in to find out.)

Store workers said it's been that way for months.  Apparently the Disney Elsa cheap dress-up dress made out of crappy itchy fabric is selling on Ebay for thousands of dollars.

We checked J.C. Penney, Target, Wal-Mart, Amazon.  Nothing to be had until the latter part of June.

My daughter was so bummed.  And even though she's nineteen and lives on her own and is technically a "grown-up,"  I really wanted to "fix" this for her.

So as I was trying to figure out what to do to help, my eyes fell on this--still sitting on the dining room table from poodle-skirt making a couple of months ago.

Owning this thing gets me into so much trouble, let me tell you.  I think that because I have it, that makes me competent to actually use it.

And I thought, Surely I'm not the only one needing a stuffed Olaf.  Surely some super-mom has figured out how to make one of these guys and 50 thousand people have pinned it to their Pinterest pages.

So I Googled "free stuffed Olaf pattern."  Can I tell you how much I love...and hate Google?

Because it came up with this

Anyway, I just want to give a shout out to this unbelievable mom at Crafty Creations.  I must confess.  I normally don't read blogs like hers.  They make me feel bad about myself.  I cannot throw ANYTHING together while I'm making dinner (not even dinner), let alone a stuffed Olaf.  But her post made it look possible, so I took a deep breath, printed off the patterns, and headed to Jo-Ann's.

Now I'm a realist.  So if the Crafty Creations Unbelievable Mom could make an Olaf in the time it took to make dinner, I took 1 hour and multiplied it by 24 to get the ETA of when my Olaf would be finished.  

Okay.  I am just going to say this  right now.  Nothing has made me a  supporter of Fair Trade Certified quite the way that sewing my own stuffed animal has.  I don't care if those folks in China do have an assembly line to make their Olafs.  They aren't getting paid nearly enough.  

I also now know why kids only had one or two toys to their names before the birth of sweatshops and outsourcing.

But with a little bit of pattern tweaking, a lot of patience, a good seam-ripper to fix the screw ups, and more hours than I'm comfortable admitting, I think we got something that will pass if you squint hard enough.  Or if you are two.

Real Disney Olaf

I know.  Mine pretty much looks like "Eating Disorder Olaf" in desperate need of a sandwich. 

But getting these text messages made it all worth it.

And don't worry. I'm not opening a shop on Etsy any time soon.  Or ever.  

I think I'll stick to what I know.   Reading books and drinking wine.  

It's a Sign

I've got this morning routine.

I wake up and IMMEDIATELY go to the bathroom sink and brush my teeth.  I don't pass Go, collect $200, or even start a cup of coffee.  I brush my teeth.

And there's really only one kind of toothpaste that I like.  It's Crest, and it's cinnamon flavored.

Yesterday morning, true to form, I woke up, hit the bathroom, grabbed a tube of toothpaste off of the counter, squirted it onto my toothbrush and stuck the thing in my mouth.

Not cinnamon.

Not even mint.

Bubble gum.

I would like fifteen minutes alone in a room with whoever thought it was a good idea to make bubble gum flavored toothpaste.

Anyway, I took this as a sign that yesterday was going to be, in the famous words of a little boy named Alexander, "a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad, day."

But it wasn't.

It was a great day!  The weather was beautiful. I had a great morning with some of my dear friends. I found hardback copies of all of the "Divergent" books for J dirt cheap at Costco.  I found OU vinyl clings at our Target for N.  OU stuff--at a Target in Southern California.  I'm still confused, but whatever.  We've been looking for some for months and I finally found them.  I spent the evening with my kiddos eating homemade macaroni and cheese and watching The Voice.  Then J and I read in bed for awhile before turning in.  It seriously was a really great day!

So this morning, I double-checked the tube of toothpaste when I woke up.  My brushing routine went off without a hitch. I took this as a sign that today was going to be a great day.

  I looked at the clock, remembered it was my spring break, and decided to start my great day by going back to bed for a little bit.  I had some extra time, due to late start at the high school on Wednesdays.

I apparently cannot read signs.

I woke up half-an-hour later completely panicked.  Sometime during my morning doze I remembered that Corb had to be at school an hour earlier than usual due to a field trip.  Good thing he's a boy, because he totally ROCKED getting ready in fifteen minutes.  We even got him to school with five minutes to spare.  I dropped him off, pulled out of the parking lot at school, and the phone rang.

"Mom, you're gonna kill me, but I left my permission slip at home.  And we're leaving in 10 minutes."

It's kind of hard to be rip-roaring mad at your kid for his lack of responsibility, when some of it is your fault.

I drove all the way back home, got the permission slip, and took it back to the school.  Then I went back home to pick up J and take her to school.  While I was waiting for her to get ready, I turned the water on in the pool.  The level had gotten a bit low.  I set the timer on the stove to remind me to turn it off when I got back from dropping her off.

J was out of sorts this morning.  Math tests do that to me, too, so I totally get it. But it made for a less than ideal ride in the car.  I got her delivered to her school and then headed BACK home to pick up Nelly, who has late start on Wednesdays.

By this time I'd been driving my car for an hour and used close to a quarter of a tank of gas.  I still hadn't had a shower or a cup of coffee.  But my teeth were clean and shiny!

When I got home, our power was off.  The security system was beeping, I needed some information off of the computer,  Nelly was trying to get ready for school with no electricity.  Lucky we have lots of natural light in our house.

And in the mad dash to try to find out what are electric company is even CALLED out here to try to look up the number and report the outage, I completely forgot that I was topping off the pool.  And since the timer on the stove that I set is electric, well...

I dropped Nelly off at school, went back to J's school and did some volunteer work (which went pretty well considering no coffee) and headed home.  As I pulled into the driveway, I remembered about the pool.

My pool is now VERY full.  I am certain it is also now VERY cold.  And our next water bill is going to be VERY high.

So now I'm going to go pour that cup of coffee I've been needing since 6:30 and try to head off the rip-roaring headache that I know is coming.  I'm going to grab a book, set my alarm on my phone for 12:45 (when I need to head out to pick J up from school) and spend the rest of this "terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad, day" outside reading.

I had grandiose plans to clean the kitchen and start de-junking the garage, but with the kind of day I'm having, I'm going to play it safe.

Especially since I'm still not sure where the nearest hospital is located.

Things I Love About Living Here 2

I looked at the calendar the other day and realized that I have been a California resident for over six months.

Some days, it feels like it's been the longest six months in the history of my life.

Other times, it feels like we moved here yesterday. This could be because there are still unpacked boxes in my garage and pictures leaning against the walls where I'd like them to be hung.  Someday.

Looking at my calendar reminded me that I was going to put a note on my calendar to remind myself to periodically add to my list of things that I love about living here that I wouldn't have back in Kansas.

I never put the note on the calendar.  My personal road to hell is TOTALLY paved with good intentions.

But since I remembered I was going to do it, and I can't think of anything else to write about, today seems as good of a day as any to add to the list.

So in addition to Trader Joe's (which I now love even more than I did last August--totally due to the fact that a few months ago, a checker-guy had bona-fide plans to card me for my "alcohol" purchase until he realized I was buying olive oil), I would like to add the following things to my slowly growing list:

~The weather. I love that 50 degrees is "freezing."  I love that I feel justified in being completely teed off at weather.com if they post a high of 71 and it turns out to be 75.  I love that the difference between 71 and 75 here is a seasonal wardrobe change.

~Snow.  Yes.  You read that correctly.  I LOVE snow in Southern California.  Snow in Southern California is very well-behaved.  It knows its boundaries, limits, and purpose.  It stays where it's supposed to.  On the mountains, where I can see it as I stand in my 70 degree yard.  Where I can visit it and ski on it if I want to. Where it will eventually melt and replenish our depleting water supply. It doesn't intrude where it isn't wanted.  It's never in my yard, on my street, or covering my driveway.

~No state assessment tests for students K-8.  This is a fleeting thing.  Just for this year. But still. I think it was super-decent of the state of California to give teachers and students a free pass on testing this first year while everyone tries to figure out Common Core.

~I can buy wine at the grocery store.  And at Target.  And at Walgreens.  And on Sundays, even.  And since I don't know anyone, no one judges me for it.

~Bicycle helmets are legally mandated for anyone under 18.  My kids will actually ride bikes to school here and I'm no longer considered the crazy mom who wants my kid to look like a nerd and have no friends.  At least not as far as bike helmets go.  I'm working on figuring out how to get that job back, though.  I've kind of missed it.

~Two words.  Cheap. Produce.  Like, three entire reusable bags of fresh produce for under $25.  And year-round farmer's markets on Sunday mornings.

That's it.  For now.

Now lest you think I've become some blow sunshine all over the place Pollyanna, a quick reality check:

I'm still lonely.

Watching our kids play baseball here is one of the loneliest things I do.  We miss the kids' old teammates and their families and their coaches with a fierceness that is physically painful.

The traffic still sucks.

They still let kids out of school an hour early for the ENTIRE week of parent-teacher conferences.  I'm still not sure what parents did to teachers in years' past to get paid back with that one.

Stuff is still way too expensive.

There seems to be a corporate attitude of Bigger and More Expensive = Better and Necessary.  And yet the way all of these programs and activities seem to want to fund this mind-set is to ask me for money.  Or worse--to ask my kids to beg it from innocent family members and friends.

But it's growing.  Slowly, but surely...the list of good things about this place is growing.  So that's something.

Fleeting Moments

I love my children.

I want them to have happy childhoods.  I want them to look back on growing up and feel like they'd give the experience at least three-and-a-half out of five stars.

So we've put them in activities.  We've had play-dates and sleepovers.  I've baked birthday cakes and made Halloween costumes.  We've volunteered to be sponsors for stuff.

But all of this is contrary to my personality.

I'm not a joiner by nature.  I don't feel comfortable with it.  I don't want to be the room parent, sit on the executive committee of the PTA or be in the booster club.

I watch people who do this sort of stuff and like it.  I'm even friends with them.  I admire them.  But I don't understand them.  At all.

So when we moved here I figured that I could be more true to my personality.  My kids are older.  The parents of the kids they go to school with aren't my friends, so I don't care what they think about my involvement--or lack thereof.

I've somewhat adopted a "don't ask" and "don't offer unless specifically asked" policy.

If my kids don't ask to do it, I don't offer it.  If someone doesn't specifically ask me to do something, I don't volunteer.

When the automated computer calls every evening from the school, I don't answer.

I know.  Lazy.

J brings me the papers in her backpack once every three months or so.  I think when it gets so full that she can't get her own stuff in it anymore.  The last time she brought me the stack I realized we had missed deadlines for a basketball camp, volleyball camp, after school choir program, and tryouts for the community theater musical.  I don't ask for her papers every day because honestly?  I don't want to know.  I don't want to know that I'm supposed to be selling raffle tickets, getting sponsors for a Spell-A-Thon, making soup for teachers, or taking my kid to a dance team clinic.

I'm already overwhelmed by the position papers, debates, and science fair projects that are for a grade.   And frankly, that stuff already takes way too much time away from the full-scale depression and pity-party I'm trying to have here.

Enter the elementary school sock hop.

I got the email last week sometime.  It said "sock hop" in the subject line.  I didn't even open it.  Whatever it was, I wasn't interested.

But then J and a friend were hanging out one day.  And J's friend's mother mentioned it.  In front of J.  As in, "Is J going to the sock hop on Friday?"

You know where this is going, I'm sure.  Yep.  Sock Hop.

Which meant a costume.  No problem.  We have a dress-up box.  It has a poodle skirt in it.  With a huge sticky stain on it.  Fantastic.

So one late night and four hours of sleep later, we had this:

Poodles are so 1950.  The 2014 sock hop girl wears a cat skirt.

These people who organize this stuff weren't born last night, that's for sure.  Turns out, this sock hop isn't drop-off. If your kid wants to go, you have to stay.  It's sold as a fun evening for the "whole family."  Which I totally get.  I do.  You couldn't pay me enough to be in charge of any activity where as many as 800 kids might be left in my care with no parent supervision.  It's why I've never aspired to be an elementary school principal.  Ever.

But let's face it. There's nothing about this evening that was going to be fun for MY whole family.  

So at 6 pm on Friday night, J, her friend, and I head to the school for two hours of sock hop fun.  They looked amazing.  Really.

And I prepared to endure two hours in a dark multi-purpose room, surrounded by hundreds of strangers.  Say what you want about e-reader apps on smartphones, but the Kindle app has proved to be a very faithful friend in these situations.  

I told the girls to have a great time, found a corner, and settled in with my "book."

I'm not a totally rotten mother.  I looked up every now and then to check on the girls.

And as the evening wore on, I found myself looking up more and reading less.

There was a "best dressed" contest.  These guys got second place.  

It may be second place, but it got the best prize.

I watched my girl giggle, dance, laugh, and hang out with her girlfriends.  

She even dragged ME out on the floor and tried to teach me some moves.  The upside of knowing absolutely no one is that I don't think the dance lesson disaster was caught on film anywhere.

At some point during the course of the evening my perspective changed.  

Instead of seeing this experience as a "good mom duty,"  I began to view it as the treasure it truly was.

My baby girl is twelve.  

There will be more dances.  Some of them will even have themes.

But all too soon, they will start being drop-off.  

There's a possibility that she will promise me anything she can think of to keep me from volunteering to chaperon them.  

Instead of giggling and laughing and dancing with her girlfriends in a costume that I got to help make, she'll shyly navigate dancing with boys.  She'll tell me that she's not wearing a costume, because none of her friends are.

Some day, boys will come pick her up at our house and take her to these dances.  My job will be to pay for the dress and  take some "before" pictures for her to post on Instagram.

Hopefully, she'll still come home with a smile on her face and tell me that she had "the best time," but it will be a different kind of "best time."  

In the grand scheme of things, this is such a short season of her life.  And last Friday night was an inconsequential event.

But I'm so glad I got to be a part of it.