Welcome to This Wonderful World

October 21, 2014 charleneaross7 Comments

On Saturday morning I woke up at about 6:45, which was equal parts much too early and much too late. I walked the dog, came home and woke up Marley who surprisingly got up without the usual teenage grumble and we were out the door by 8:25 headed to my mom’s house. I was meeting my brother there, who was going to fix the ignition coil on my car and Marley and my mom were going to watch the Great Gatsby for the thousandth time because apparently you can never get enough Leonardo DiCaprio. (I don’t quite know how to break it to Marley that he’s pushing 40.)

I had planned on coercing my mom to do a Costco run with me (we were out of everything – surely she had to be out of everything too). I also had to pick up a few things at Target, maybe Bed Bath & Beyond. Then I’d head home and cheat on my hairdresser (again) with some long overdue root maintenance before meeting my girlfriends for a 6:00 dinner and then a concert at The Canyon Club.

But when I got to my mother’s my brother wasn’t there. I was slightly annoyed because I had rushed and was late (the story of my life) and had forgotten my Costco list and now wished I’d turned around to get it.

“Where’s Richard?” I asked my mom as I walked in.

“He’s at the hospital,” she answered.

And a smile spread across my face.

My little brother was about to become a grandfather.

“Did she have him?” I asked.

“Not yet,” my mom told me.

“Can we go to the hospital, Mom?” Marley asked me.

It was very considerate of my niece to have her baby on a Saturday so we could all be there. I was hoping for a speedy labor (for her comfort of course and not because I was rudely and selfishly thinking of my month-long plans with some girlfriends that I rarely get to see). She was only at four centimeters so we took our time and made eggs for breakfast; lingered a bit. I helped my mom clean up and made a new Costco list.

We headed over to the hospital a little after ten. My niece was doing great and we plopped down next to her boyfriend, my brother, his girlfriend. and my younger niece ready to meet the newest member of our family. At 11:30 Ashley was only at five centimeters and everyone was hungry so my mom and I decided to go to Costco and pick up a couple pizzas while we were there. My list was long, but we barreled through Costco knowing that the baby wouldn’t be coming for hours, but still nervous that we’d miss it if we took too long. We dropped the groceries off at my house, dumping them on the kitchen table and into the fridge (we’d worry about separating them later), gave Dave a couple slices of pizza and rushed back to the hospital. My older niece had joined the group and the pizzas (now warmish rather than hot) were devoured.

At 2:20, Ashley was moving steadily, but slowly. I took a risk and headed home to get ready for my night out, stopping for hair mascara along the way, taking my cheating on my hairdresser to a new low. At 3:40 my mom texted me 9 1/2 maybe 20 minutes. 30 minutes.

I unplugged my flat iron and flew out the door. On my way I texted back. I made it to the hospital in 20 minutes flat.

He still wasn’t quite ready to come out yet. Wombs are warm and cozy places. The nurse came back in the room to check her at 5:00. “The baby’s coming,” she said as she went to call the doctor. Ashley’s boyfriend and her two sisters stayed with her. And even though she left our earth way too soon, I know the girls’ mother was there too. Marley sat on the floor outside the room. The rest of us headed to the waiting area down the hall.

A little while later Marley texted me The baby is out and we rushed back down the hall.

“How do you know the baby is out?” I asked as the door was still shut. “Did someone come out?”

“No, I can hear him crying,” she said and we all pressed our ears to the door.

At 5:37 PM I became a great-aunt. He was 7 pounds 7 ounces and perfect. Mama and baby were both doing fine.

newborn — Welcome to the world little man!

We congratulated the proud parents and took turns holding our new little treasure. We called and texted family far away. We Instagrammed. We Facebooked. We were in awe and in love with our new little family member.

About an hour later I drove my mom home and left Marley there. I’d missed dinner with my friends, but still had time to meet them at the club. As I was driving home to change I thought about Ashley and her new little family. She is so young – just one year out of high school, two weeks away from nineteen. Yeah, her life’s going to be hard. Motherhood is so damn hard.

But also so very wonderful. Quite possibly the most wonderful thing in the world. They are surrounded by love. They’ll be okay.

Book Review – Early Decision: Based on a True Frenzy by Lacy Crawford

September 10, 2014September 10, 2014 charleneaross3 Comments

I read a lot of books.

Okay, maybe not a lot. In my fantasy life I read a lot of books. I’m always reading something, but I’m a slow reader and only seem to have time to read before bed, and reading puts me to sleep so it takes me a really long time to read a book. Like, if someone says, “It’s a really fast read, it will take you two days,” it will probably take me two weeks.

But I digress… I read (not) a lot of books and I recommend them to my friends if I like them (You HAVE to read this book!), but so far I haven’t reviewed any on my blog. I don’t think. I’m too lazy (make that blazy) to look through my archives and check. So we’ll call this my first book review.

Early Decision: Based on a True Frenzy by Lacy Crawford

This is the story of Anne, a 27-year-old ambivalent college essay coach, and five of the students she is coaching through the college essay process. The author used to be a college essay coach herself, so she knows what she’s talking about. (Or rather writing about.) Remember when you The Devil Wears Prada and thought to yourself, “There is no way someone could treat their assistant that terribly,” but knew that there was? Or when you read The Nanny Diaries and thought, “I can’t believe there are parents that horrible,” but knew that there were? This book is like that, but about the college application process. Total insider stuff.

If you are a parent who is hoping to send your offspring to college one day, or just sent your child recently, I think you will enjoy this book immensely. And if you are like me, who is knee deep in the gut-wrenching, anxiety-inducing, nightmarishly overwhelming task of helping your child wade through The Common Application, you will love it.

If you don’t have kids, you can still read it, but I will admit that this book probably isn’t for you. (Unless you, yourself, just went through the college application process. Then trust me, you’ll dig it.)

Ms. Crawford, like our protagonist Anne, must have been very good at her job because she is one hell of a writer – this book is extremely well-written. It will piss you off, make you laugh out loud, and break your heart. It does a great job of fictionalizing the college application process, while also giving you some very good intel and insight.

Warning: You will want to hit most of the parents in the book upside the head with a very heavy laptop. On the flip side, you’ll be smugly patting yourself on the back, because you are certainly nothing like the helicopter parents and tiger moms in the book. At least I’m not. (No matter what Chandler says!)

So, if you like to read (a little or a lot) and have visions of your son or daughter attending Harvard, Stanford, or UCLA, or perhaps a highly selective liberal arts college, or even the state university ten miles away, I highly suggest reading this book. The earlier the better.

Are Yours Real or Fake?

August 21, 2014August 21, 2014 charleneaross4 Comments

When I first started blogging I didn’t really think about it. I just jumped in and started to write. I chose my name as my blog handle instead of something clever and cute because I wanted to get my name out there (and because try as I might I’m really not that clever and too old to be cute).

And one of the things I didn’t really consider was whether or not I should use my children’s real names when I blog. Some people do, some people don’t, but the point is, it wasn’t even a consideration with me. On my very first blog I wrote about my kids’ inability to get along and just typed out their little names for everyone in cyberspace to see.

Hello, Bad Mom of the Year Award 2008.

Of course I may be a bad mom putting my kids’ names along with their private business onto people’s computer screens, but I always change or eliminate my friends’ names when I have a funny or potentially embarrassing story about a girlfriend to tell.

For example, last week when my girlfriend told me that she was mortified because her cleaning lady found her vibrator under her bed and placed it standing up and her night table, I told her that that would definitely be something I’d have to work into my blog. (See how I just did that?)

“If you use my name I’ll sue you,” she told me.

“I would never,” I said. And I won’t.

Yes, I am a bad mom, but really, really good friend.

I have another concern as well: as my kids get older and I tell the world my story, do I have the right to tell theirs? I’m not very discrete and I know that I tend to over-share, but I really don’t tell all of it. Trust me, there are so many gems I would love to write about as they would be fantastic, interesting, sweet, funny blogs, but I don’t in the name of privacy. (And let me tell you – it kills me I keep them to myself!)

I’ve thought about going through every blog I’ve ever posted and changing my kid’s names, but considering I’ve written well over 100 and can’t even get to the things on my list that would only take 5 minutes of my time (some of which are incredibly & ridiculously important), I don’t see it happening any time soon.

And I wonder too, why does it really matter? I’m just a suburban mom who writes a little blog. I don’t think anyone cares or has given it any thought. (Until, you know, now.) We all know the names of famous people’s kids. Why not un-famous people’s kids?

Am I harming them? Have I told too much? Eh, that’s what psychiatrists’ couches are for.

Six years into blogging and seventeen and a half years into motherhood and I’m still trying to figure this whole Internet and blogging and motherhood thing out.

Has anybody really figured it out?

*Edited and slightly updated this post first appeared on the now-defunct skirt.com blog on January 10, 2011.

Road Trip: Next Stop – College

May 29, 2014July 18, 2014 charleneaross11 Comments

GOOD LUCK with the college visits. My heart is soaring and sniffling for you, my friend Julie emailed me before we left for our Memorial Day weekend college tour road trip. She nailed it. (As she always does.) In one year and two weeks Chandler will be graduating high school. Two months after that he’ll be heading off to college. Out of our home forever. Or at least until Thanksgiving break. My heart is indeed soaring and sniffling all at once.

Teaching him how to tie his shoes, how to cook (or at least how to make a grilled cheese sandwich), and (especially) how to properly clean a toilet has all led up my casting him off into the world to survive and thrive outside of our household. It’s enough to make me want to vomit. Happy vomit of course. If there is such a thing.

Thursday afternoon, right after the kids got home from school, we left on a 1400+ mile, three day road trip to visit three universities. Go big or go home right? (Or rather stay home in this instance.)

First Stop UCSC

Chandler wanted to start off driving so I buckled down in the back seat with a semi-cranky why-do-I-even-have-to-go-on-this-stupid-college-tour-trip Marley. We battled Santa Barbara traffic, chowed on Double Double’s in Atascadero, and arrived in Santa Cruz about six hours later.

We can’t afford two rooms -in fact this was a budget travel trip with coolers packed full of sandwich-makings and our rooms booked on Priceline– so we slept boys in one bed and girls in the other since our children refuse to sleep together. We weren’t expecting much from our $50/night 2-star hotel, but it was clean, had enough towels, and the free breakfast included a make-your-own waffle station, so we deemed it a success. (Even though the coffee -if you could even call it that- was incredibly weak.)

I wasn’t sure what to expect from the university and didn’t know if Chandler would really like it or not. We chose UCSC because of the D3 athletic program (Chandler wants to compete in college athletics, but isn’t sure he want to at a D1 level), the majors it offers, and the beautiful location. But it has a reputation for being a bit of a hippie school and Chandler is 0% hippie. Well, he’s an environmentally-minded liberal, but a buttoned-down, rule-following, environmentally-minded liberal.

The campus was amazingly beautiful. It felt more like a mountain resort than a university.

“I think going here would be great,” Chandler said to me halfway through the tour. “I love everything about this school, except for this view.”

UCSC Beach View — Yeah, this view sucks!

“You’re crazy,” I told him. “The view is amazing.”

“Yeah, but the school looks like it’s in a forest and the view of the ocean doesn’t really fit.”

(Have I ever mentioned that Chandler is a little quirky?)

UCSC trees — Trees like this cover the campus of UCSC.

In my world forest meets ocean equals perfection. But apparently in Chandler’s world forest meets ocean breaks some kind of rule. And as I said, he’s a rule-follower. Wow, is college going to be an eye-opening experience for him.

Second Stop Humboldt State

You might think that taking our 0%-hippie, rule-following, buttoned-down, quirky son to Humboldt State with its reputation of schooling hippies with a capital “H” an odd choice. Possibly. But we do want Chandler to consider a state school. And since he has expressed a possible interest in environmental studies, apparently wants to go to school in some sort of forest, and would like to attend college out-of-state, we though that Humboldt -which is an environmentalist’s wet dream, has a 20,000 square foot forest attached to it, and is closer to Seattle than to Los Angeles- deserved a look. Plus we thought the idea of embarking on a seven hour, 356-mile journey that included driving through San Francisco at 5PM on the Friday of a three-day weekend sounded like lots of fun.

The two things (semi-cranky why-do-I-even-have-to-go-on-this-stupid-college-tour-trip) Marley requested of this trip was to see the Golden Gate Bridge and to swim in a hotel pool. Of course it is our goal in life to bitterly disappoint her (just ask her), so we made sure that even though we had to cross the bridge she couldn’t really see it.

We arrived in Arcata close to midnight, two hours after the pool closed, screwing Marley once again, and headed straight to bed.

Our tour of Humboldt didn’t start until noon, so after more waffles and weak coffee we decided to check out the town of Arcata and happened upon the 45th Annual Kinetic Grand Championship taking place in the town square.

What is that you ask? It is a 3-day, 42-mile bike race over land, sand, mud and water. Which means one must convert their “bike” to be able to successfully handle land, sand, mud and water.

And the crazier the conversion, the better.

Coincidentally I went to this race with my mom and brother 31 years ago with a “why-do-I-have-to-go-on-this-stupid-trip-on-a-holiday-weekend” attitude and ended up having an incredible time, so I was thrilled to happen upon it again. Unfortunately Marley was even more determined than me (at the peak of my teenaged surliness, I might add) to hate everything about our trip and sat on a bench claiming the kinetic sculpture race lame. But she later told my mom it was “kind of cool,” so while not as big a win as make-your-own waffles, I’ll take it as a minor victory.

shark-sculpture — This sculpture was called “Bite Me.”

After our tour of Humboldt, Chandler met with a coach and liked him a lot. He also liked the dorms.

Dorms-at-Humboldt-State — Yeah, I could see Chandler living here.

Marley loved Humboldt and decided she must go there. Plus we went to a really cool record store where she bought two posters (bonus – one of them I absolutely hate) and we both claimed the Ryan Gosling doppelganger who rang us up super cute.

Third Stop: UC Davis

After leaving Humboldt we drove three hours to Red Bluff with me taking most of the time behind the wheel. We got there in plenty of time to enjoy cheap delicious Mexican food from a place called La Corona (thank you Yelp) with a big ol’ margarita for me (hazzah!) and plenty of pool time for Marley after dinner. (So, Marley found her future college, talked to a cute -way-too-old-for-her- boy, and got to swim all in one day. Maybe Dave and I aren’t the worst parents in the world after all.)

margarita — It looks a little toxic, but it was pretty damn good!

Chandler popped out of bed at seven o’clock on Sunday morning ready to head down to the make-your-own waffle station before it got too crowded prompting us to get shaking and get started with our day. He was mostly excited to visit the Capital in Sacramento, but our first stop was Davis. I think he may have been overwhelmed by its size. And while there were plenty of trees, it was certainly no forest. He did not love it. But they have a viticulture and enology major (translation wine making), so it is my new goal in life to change Chandler’s mind and have him go to Davis. I think he owes me that.

The Mondavi Performing Arts Center at UC Davis

After touring Davis we took a tour of the Capital building and Chandler was in heaven. I know I’ve stated that he’s expressed an interest in the environment, and that is true, but he loves history so much, I think his calling is probably political science. With a minor in ~~viticulture and enology~~ environmental studies. Maybe.

After touring the Capital we had a (very) late lunch at a dive bar on the Delta called Wimpy’s where I was once accidentally abandoned Home-Alone-style by my family when I was a teenager. (That is a true story, but a story for another time.)

Then we headed home.

We’ve now toured five colleges total. I hope to have Chandler tour at least five more. This next year will no doubt, like his entire childhood, go by at warp speed. Six months from now his college applications will be complete. Ten months from now all of the acceptance (and rejection) letters will have arrived. Eleven months from now his decision will have been made. Fourteen months from now my son will be going off to college.

My heart is soaring and sniffling.

Happy Mother’s Day

May 9, 2014 charleneaross5 Comments

I think that most of my readers are probably moms. And to you I’d like to say thank you. We’re all busy. I know that. And the fact that you take a minute or two (or or seven because my posts are so damn long) out of your day to read the randomness that comes out of my head means more to me than you could ever know.

(And to you non-moms – I know you’re busy too. Thank you as well!)

As a token of my appreciation I’d like to give you a Mother’s Day gift. (Yes, even you non-moms. Jeez, for not being mothers you sure are naggy!)

What is this gift you ask? Flowers? An iPad? A spa day? A gift card to Trader Joe’s? Nope, sorry. As much as I’d love to give you all those things it’s not quite what my pocketbook will allow. So instead I’ve been trolling the internet (or okay, mostly Pinterest) to find things that will make you mothers (and non-mothers) laugh.

As my Mother’s Day gift to you, I’d like to present you with the gift of laughter…

To moms of toddlers (I hope)…

bed-wetting-humor — I might or might not have done this before

Why it’s important to like your kids’ friends’ parents…

parenting-humor-playdate — Uh, you mean playdates were supposed to be for the kids? Oops!

You know something is broken when this happens…

silence-is-golden-humor — so true… so true..

For moms who feel like they’re talking to walls (who are probably better listeners)…

And finally, as the mother of a teenage daughter who just spent her spring break trying to break the Guinness Book of World Records for continuous watching of YouTube videos on her iPod, I find this one especially funny…

And I have saved the very best for last. Please do yourself a favor and watch this hilarious video from MommyTonk. I promise it will make you laugh out loud. (It’s so funny you might be the one thanking me!)

To all of you mothers, from the bottom of my heart, I would love to wish you love, laughter, a brunch with bottomless Bloody Marys, and a very Happy Mother’s Day!

Applying for School

May 5, 2014May 5, 2014 charleneaross2 Comments

My friend’s son is applying to a private middle school. I’m in the process of high-school-junior-year-searching-for-college-stress, so I really do feel her pain. Of course her search is much easier. In the first place, it’s middle school. And she’s not even searching – her older son goes to the high school. I’m pretty sure her soon-to-be sixth grader is locked in – you know, legacy status and all.

But still, there are some steps they have to go through. Formalities. They have to fill out an application. There might be an interview involved. And her son has to write an essay.

Oh the dreaded application essay. I’ve been ~~hyperventilating over~~ contemplating the college essay prompts from the Common Application that Chandler has to choose from. All I can say is that I’m glad I’m not applying to college. Those prompts are hard.

For example, here’s one I’ll take a stab at:

Recount an incident or time when you experienced failure. How did it affect you, and what lessons did you learn?

I experience failure all the time. You see, I’ve written a book. I think it’s awesome. My mom and all my friends tell me its awesome too. (Except for the part when my mom told me my protagonist was a bit whiny. Or maybe that was one of my friends. Whatever.) I’ve submitted it to several agents and they do not think it’s awesome. Most have rejected it outright.

A couple asked for a partial and one requested a full manuscript, but they ended up rejecting it too.

One very junior reader at a literary agency seemed to like it and passed it on to some senior staff members. They suggested she might be better suited for a career in retail. (Okay, I might have made that last part up.)

This affected me by making me dive face first into my secret stash of sea salt and turbinado sugar dark chocolate almonds from Trader Joe’s and chase it down with my not-so-secret stash of freezer vodka. Every time.

I’ve learned that dark chocolate goes better with wine than with vodka. And also that I must be a big dum dum who is quite possibly incapable of learning, because I keep querying that damn book and pairing dark chocolate with the wrong alcoholic beverage.

Hmmmm….

I think it’s a good thing I already have my degree.

But back to my friend and her son’s quest to be accepted to a particular private middle school (which for the purpose of this post we’ll call Awesome Middle School). She shared her son’s application essay with me and it is so spectacular that I told her I needed to share it with you. Here it is:

What gifts can you bring to Awesome Middle School?

I bring a few gifts to Awesome Middle School, such as my strength as a leader, my athletic abilities, and my level of knowledge. The reason I said I am a good leader is because everyone is afraid of me, and it’s not my fault, it’s my height. I mean it’s not my fault that I’m five four, but it comes in handy sometimes telling people to be quiet. Also I’m not that scary once you know me. I have a good sense of humor, and am decent all around at sports playing defense. Defense is my best position in most sports except football, where I play offensive line. My grades are good all around and I have a love for reading an am really good at it.

The kid is obviously a shoo-in. Even without the legacy status. Maybe we can have him come over and help Chandler with his application essay. It couldn’t hurt.

Photo credit: Chris Drumm via creativecommons.org

My So-Called Fabulous (Yet Unlived) Life

April 10, 2014April 10, 2014 charlenearossLeave a comment

Throwback Thursday – This post was originally published on March 21, 2011 on skirt.com.

The other day as I looked at my pretty friend on the computer screen – tan and fit with her long blonde hair flowing down her back, I began to wonder about her life…and about mine. Somewhere between high school and Facebook she moved from Los Angeles to Miami. We were really only acquaintances in high school – I was better friends with her brother a year older than us – and now we are acquaintances through the world’s largest social network. I see photos of her fabulous single life and she sees photos of my rather suburban one (if she even bothers to look).

In her photos she sits courtside at a Miami Heat game, drinks umbrella drinks on the beach, and wraps her arms around equally tan and fit singletons at bars and barbeques. In my photos I’m trying my best to look cool mom funky rather than suburban mom frumpy.

At 45-years-old she still looks amazing in a bikini. Of course that’s probably a lot easier to do when you are blessed with the combination of being born with good genes, never experiencing the wondrous body-changing magic of childbirth, and have nothing but time on your hands to go to the gym before heading out to the local pub to meet your latest conquest on Match.com face to face.

I wonder sometimes as I stare at her beautiful face smiling at me if she is as happy as she looks. I consider myself happy in this life I’ve chosen for myself, but there are days when I trip over my husband’s shoes in the bedroom or get an aching back from doing eight loads of laundry on a Sunday that I wonder if I would be even happier if I had never married, if I had never had kids, if I had never given up my career to stay home with my children. If I only had to be accountable to me…what would my life be like?

A few years ago, when my husband unwillingly went from the security of fulltime employment to get-it-when-you-can-find-it contract work, I took a job at an elementary school as an aide in special education so that I could give my family the extravagant gift of health insurance. As an instructional assistant I have been bit, hit, kicked, pinched, spit at, peed on, and had my life threatened. And sometimes I even get to clean up poop! As an added bonus the pay is terrible. Of course I do get summers off and every December and June parents shower me with Starbucks gift cards to thank me for my patience with their little darlings.

But if I didn’t have kids, where would 15 years in the career world have taken me? I picture myself dressed in designer clothing checking my Blackberry as I tap my pedicured toes encased in $300 boots waiting for the valet to come with my Mercedes that only seats two so I can hurry from my business lunch to a very important meeting. My “what if” wardrobe seems a bit more stylish than my usual attire of jeans and tone-up sneakers sadly worn for function rather than fashion so my heels don’t sink into the grass as I attend my kids’ soccer games or so I won’t trip as I race around town running errand after monotonous errand.

Speaking of monotonous, my husband and I have been married for seventeen years. We’ve had our ups and downs, but all in all we have a happy marriage. He is a good partner and a good friend; we are very compatible and I feel like I’ve chosen well. Even during our toughest times the thought of divorce has never crossed my mind.

But what if we had never met? If I had never walked down the aisle, would the rush of experiencing first date jitters be greater than the joy experienced from the comfort of a long marriage? Would I choose to experience firsthand the phenomenon of online dating instead of only experiencing it vicariously through my friends? I am rather curious to know how many text exchanges with a man you’ve never met face to face it takes to get a photo of his penis in your inbox. And like many of my still-single or again single friends, would I also have a nice, incurable dose of HPV?

I look at my suburban tract home in a neighborhood known for its good schools. In my “what if” life I envision myself in my two bedroom condo in a much more urban part of town decorated Pottery Barn chic – no roses to dead head, no lawn to water or mow. There are no socks on the floor, no Lego’s to be stepped on, no princess toothpaste smeared on the bathroom counter. If the song “I Still Want You” were to play on the 80’s station of my satellite radio as I was cleaning my condo on a Saturday afternoon I’d probably think to myself, “Whatever happened to The Del Fuegos?” having no idea that front man Dan Zanes went on to be a Grammy Award winning children’s artist.

If I’d never had kids I would probably still think that Lindsey Lohan’s drug addiction and downward spiral is a terrible tragedy, but the true tragedy would be missing both her and Jamie Lee Curtis’ fantastic comedic performances in “Freaky Friday” because what kind of designer-boot-wearing, two-seat-Mercedes-driving, online-dating-still-hot-in-a-bikini-after-the-age-of-forty single girl sees a movie like that?

If I were single I wouldn’t have to share the covers in my bed, give up half my closet space, or watch NASCAR. If I were childless I wouldn’t have to make sure there was always milk in the fridge, referee ridiculous arguments, or worry about how the hell I’m going to pay for college. (Shit. How the hell are we going to pay for college?)

I look at my friend’s pretty face one last time before clicking off my computer and joining my family for popcorn –crumbs of which I will inevitably have to vacuum off the floor tomorrow- and the latest episode of The Simpsons. I snuggle with my daughter under the Snuggie she and her brother gave me for Mother’s Day last year and laugh a deep belly laugh as Bart tortures Homer.

If only my two lives were a Gwyneth Paltrow movie and I could watch them in parallel to see which path was better. But the truth is I really don’t have to wonder. I already know.

Follow me on Twitter @Rossgirl08 and connect with me on Facebook

Expressing Motherhood

February 10, 2014February 10, 2014 charleneaross3 Comments

My typical Sunday goes a little something like this:

My alarm goes off at 5:00 (yes even on Sunday), but I probably stayed up late on Saturday night – you know, until 10:00 or 10:30 and most likely had a good bit of wine, so I decide to be nice to myself and sleep in until 6:00. I get up, have some coffee, attempt to write my Monday blog post, hit a mental block and end up cruising Facebook or Pinterest instead. At 7:15 I realize I still have to walk the dog and get ready to run at 8:00 and curse myself for wasting so much time and not getting up at 5:00 (though if I had I probably would have just wasted even more time on Facebook and Pinterest.)

At 8:00 I meet my run club and ~~suffer through 25-50 minutes of torture~~ train for my 10K. Then my running friends and I go have coffee. After coffee it’s home to laundry, house cleaning, pulling my wardrobe for the week, grocery shopping (I usually hit at least two stores), and meal prep for the week (when you work 9-6 you’ve got to have a meal plan and at least a few things pre-made) . Sunday is always my busiest and most hectic day. I always aspire to take a nap. It never happens.

But yesterday was different. Instead of wardrobe and meal planning and laundry and shopping I ditched suburbia and headed out to Hollywood for a field trip with some of my friends from my writers’ group to see our friend Kim Tracy Prince perform in a show called Expressing Motherhood at the Lillian Theater. Sure, we have no vegetables in the house, we’ll be dining on grilled cheese all week, and I’ll be running around like a chicken with my head cut off in the mornings, having no idea what I’m going to wear. I’m pretty sure we’ll survive. Besides, I deserve a day out with my girlfriends, dammit!

Expressing Motherhood is a show where 12 women get up and perform monologues they have written about motherhood. Some of them (like Kim’s) are hysterically funny, some are incredibly poignant, and a few of them are just gut wrenching. All of them are fabulous. I do wish Kim had advised me to bring Kleenex and wear waterproof mascara (that would have been helpful)! I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed this show.

writer's-group — Suburban moms going rogue

The good news for you is there are 4 more Expressing Motherhood shows next weekend. (2/14 at 7:00, 2/15 at 7:00, and 2/16 at 2:00 & 7:00) If you live in the Los Angeles area, I strongly suggest you ditch your usual weekend routine and head out to the show. I don’t want to spoil anything for you, but listening to a 64-year-old woman talking about the rebirth of her vagina is truly one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen. And listening to another woman talk about her son’s cleft palate – one of the most heartbreaking.

Tickets are $25 online (buy them here) and $30 at the door. They sell wine and AWESOME lard-free chicken tamales that you can actually bring with you into the theater instead scarfing down quickly in the lobby like at most theaters.

I highly encourage you to grab some girlfriends, get out of your suburban rut, and go see the show. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll drink some wine, maybe eat a tamale. You might not have any vegetables in the house or your work wardrobe planned, but you’ll have a great time. And you deserve that don’t you? (The answer is yes, you do!)

P.S. This is NOT a sponsored post. I paid to see this show and would do it again. It really is so fantastic!

*Expressing Motherhood photo “borrowed” from Expressing Motherhood Facebook page – thank you, ladies!

So My Son Had This Heart Surgery Last Week

January 20, 2014 charleneaross10 Comments

Well, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. He had a heart procedure. But surgery sounds so much more dramatic doesn’t it? And a surgeon performed it. In a hospital OR. So yes, it might be an exaggeration. But it isn’t really a lie.

He had something called supraventricular tachycardia, which basically means he had an extra passageway from his heart’s upper chamber to its lower chamber that was causing him some occasional problems while running. It would make his heart beat too fast. (Like 250 BPM. Literally.) It wasn’t life threatening. (Whew!) But it’s still not something you want to have. Especially if you are a runner.

The procedure was simple and was done laparoscopically, so he wasn’t cut open. There were just tiny little tubes inserted into his groin area and pushed up to his heart. Then the doctor burned closed that pesky little hole. It was an outpatient procedure. It was done on a Monday and he was back in school on Wednesday. He should be running again this week.

The procedure was a success and he is 100% cured. This isn’t something that comes back. It’s like a paper cut. It’s super annoying, but once it heals it’s like it was never there.

No big deal right?

Except.

My son was in the hospital for an outpatient procedure. On his heart.

And I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t scare the shit out of me. But I held it together like moms do. I didn’t want him to know how nervous I was. I think he did the same for me too by acting pretty calm as well. He said the thing he was most nervous about was getting the IV. (He had a hernia operation a couple of years ago and did not like getting that IV inserted one little bit.)

But his surgeon was fantastic. (Or was he simply a cardiological procedurist that day? Since it was a procedure. And not a surgery. Hmmm, I somehow do not think he would like that.) He explained everything to us before and after. The procedure was a success. The only recovery really was the healing of the insertion points of the catheters.

Of course my boy is clever. He milked it a bit last week. “But Mom, I just had heart surgery,” was his go-to response whenever something was asked of him. I would remind him that it was just a procedure. But still. I let him milk it. I enjoyed babying him just a little.

I stayed home from work the day after the procedure just to be with him. I drove him the half mile to school all week. I eased up on his chores. I made his favorite dinners last week and bought him his favorite ice cream.

I’m just so glad to have this little thing (that I would often worry was a big thing) over with.

Done.

Cured 100%.

As I said before, “Whew!”

I’m the Cool Mom

December 24, 2013 charleneaross1 Comment

Marley is into screamo music. What’s sceamo music? I’d explain it to you, but I don’t really know. I’m pretty sure it has a lot to do with angst, wearing black clothes, having a heavy hand with the black eyeliner, and hating your parents on a semi-regular basis. And the lead singers scream instead of sing. (Hence the name screamo.)

So it’s the perfect music for teenagers. At least the angst-ridden moody ones.

Like my daughter.

Some of you may be scratching your heads as you remember me taking an excited Marley to see Miley Cyrus, Travie McCoy and Macklemore and Ryan Lewis at the KIIS Jingle Ball – definitely not scremo. Well, all I can say to that is sometimes when there’s no one around to witness it I listen to country music in the car. So I suppose it’s possible that she likes listening to guys with neck tats scream (rather than sing) just as much as she likes to listen to Miley ~~auto-tune~~ twerk her way through a broken heart. What can I say – she’s a complicated girl.

Marley found out that Austin Carlile, the lead singer of the band Of Mice and Men, was doing an autograph signing to promote his Neff clothing line at Tilly’s in Pasadena. I said that I would take her because I remember what it’s like to idolize a rockstar. I used to be a bit of a fangirl myself. (My old friends are laughing hysterically right now saying to themselves, “A bit?!”)

Austin Carlile Neff — Every mother dreams of her daughter meeting rockstars like this right?

Tilly’s was handing out wristbands at 8AM (for a 2PM autograph signing) so I told Marley’s friends to meet at our house at 7:30. (Goodbye Saturday morning kickboxing class.) We were on the road by 7:45 but I started to get a little nervous when an overturned big rig closed down four lanes of the 101 and added about 30 minutes to our trip. What if this was a bigger deal than I realized and we showed up to a strip mall full of 500 pink hair kids in sleeping bags who had been camping out for days, rivaling Black Friday Walmart shoppers willing to give up their Thanksgiving for the prize of a $200 flat screen TV, just for the chance to meet their scremo idol?

I enjoyed listening to the girls on the car ride over. They all thanked me profusely for giving up my Saturday and told me I was such a cool mom (Marley’s eyes rolled so far back into her head I think they completely spun around on that comment). They mostly talked about the bands they liked. All of them mentioned listening to Green Day first and moving on to screamo band from there. So the next time you get all weepy listening to Time of Your Life, just remember that Green Day is a gateway band. (Thanks a lot Billy Joe!)

We got to Tilly’s a few minutes before 9:00 and the line was long, but not too bad.

We ran in and I asked the girl if I needed a wristband. I didn’t want to take a wristband away from a kid, but I wanted to be able to go in and get photos of the girls.

“I don’t know. That depends on his people,” she answered.

If this was going to be the happiest 15 seconds of my daughter’s teenage existence I wanted to be there to witness it dammit! I gave up my ~~kickboxing class~~ Saturday for this. Sorry #401 – you should have gotten here earlier.

The girls set up camp on a couple of blankets and I wandered around the strip mall for a bit. I had intended to camp out in the Starbucks all day with my laptop and new Bridget Jones book (new Bridget Jones – squee!), but the lure of Old Navy and Nordstrom Rack proved to be too strong. I eventually made it to Starbucks around 11:00 (truly the worst Starbucks ever, BTW) and was lucky enough to procure a spot with an outlet.

I was there about 30 minutes when Marley and one of her friends showed up to get some sugar drinks (guess who paid). They had drawn song lyrics all over their arms with Sharpie. One of the girls had taken a picture of their five hands and tweeted it. Austin Carlile retweeted it and it was then retweeted over 200 times. (OhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGod! Austin Carlile retweeted my tweet!) I don’t think the girls really needed the sugar.

At 12:30 I went to get the girls a pizza and myself a salad. They allowed me to sit on their blanket with them to eat. As we were finishing the line started to push forward. He was here! Or about to be here – I’m not sure which. We cleaned up the pizza box, Starbucks cups, and all the other trash that accumulates from sitting on a blanket for five hours while waiting to meet a rock god and waited.

And waited.

Well, they waited. I went to Nordstrom Rack to use the restroom. (And maybe check out their boots.) I walked down the street to the little thrift store I saw on my pizza run. Closed at 3:00 (It was 3:20.) 3:00? Who closes their store at 3:00 on a Saturday?! I sat on the lip of the fountain and read Bridget Jones and chatted with other parents.

It turns out that despite the scary tattoos, Austin Carlile is a very inspirational guy who tells people to follow their dreams, that things will get better, and to love, not hate. (Teenage angst is mere putty in his hands.)

He was incredibly gracious and generous with his fans and would hug anyone who asked for a hug (they all asked for hugs), listened to what they had to say, and would sign more than one thing (any celebrity handler will tell you that to move things along it is imperative to only sign one thing).

His fans were in heaven. (His publicist? Not so much.)

Austin Carlile at Tilly's — I have to admit, he’s pretty cute.

I joined Marley and her friends when they reached close to the front of the line (at around 4:45!) and two incredibly beautiful girls came up to me. You know the type – the type who look like they are used to getting what they want with a few blinks of their extra-long eyelashes and a well-placed pout.

“Are you here to meet Austin or are you just a mom?”

Just mom, grrr! Was it my gray roots and desperate need (that shall never be fulfilled) of botox or my lack of black eyeliner and black clothing that gave me away?

“I’m a mom, why?”

“Well, I see you have a wristband and it’s not really fair to take one from a kid. I got my wristband from another mom and I was wondering if my friend could have yours so we can meet him.”

“My wristband won’t slip off. It’s on too tight.”

“Well, that’s okay. We could wait with you and you could tell them that my friend is your daughter and you want her to have your wristband.”

At first I felt bad for her. Like I said, I know what it’s like to be a fangirl. Then I remembered how long these kids in line had been waiting. “Really? What time did you get here?” I asked her.

“Um, I don’t know a couple of hours ago.”

“A couple of hours ago? Well, my girls have been here for eight hours. And you want to hop in line with us, in front of the 100 people behind us who have also been here for eight hours? I may have ‘taken a wristband from a kid,’ but it still would have been long gone by the time you got here. You should have come earlier like everybody else.”

She slumped her shoulders and walked away.

“Was I wrong?” I asked a wristbandless dad next to me whose girls were in line right in front of mine? Maybe I was an asshole for taking a wristband from a kid.

“No way,” he told me. “Those girls didn’t earn it.”

At 5:00 the girls got in. Marley was over the moon. Austin chatted with her for about 30 seconds and then gave her a 10 second hug and a kiss on the cheek. She was shaking when she walked away.

Austin Carlile hugs fan — She’ll remember this hug forever

“What did you say to each other when he was hugging you?” I asked her.

“I’ll never tell anyone. That’s just for me,” she said.

Good for her. I hope she never does tell anyone. I hope she keeps just for her for forever.

All of my girls, like the girls I saw coming out before them, were crying – the anticipation and excitement and emotion of meeting Austin Carlile overwhelming them.

“Let’s go home, Mom. I’m so tired,” Marley said to me after they all went through.

All of the girls looked wrecked. Happy, but wrecked.

I sent out a tweet with a picture of the girls that said: “Next in line. Totally worth the 8 hour wait to see @austincarlile He’s so gracious to his fans. Happy girls.” Austin Carlile retweeted it Saturday night. (OhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGod! Austin Carlile retweeted my tweet!) It got 20 retweets and 220 favorites. I have about 40 new teenage followers. I’m sure they’ll be unfollowing me immediately upon discovering that I’m just a mom and not a fangirl.

But when Marley’s friends thanked me again and told me I was a cool mom on the ride home Marley didn’t roll her eyes. Now that’s worth giving up a Saturday for.

Charlene Ross

Category: Motherhood