Monday, June 30, 2008

ok, okAY HERE I AM!

Sorry it has taken me so long i know i'm lame. SORRY!

i'm on my roof laying in the sun i'm sweating because it's so sunny, luckily not humid, yet. it's my day off and i'm going to a ballet class in a bit. (i'm saying all this to make Claire jealous and then she WILL come visit.) i'm listening to Adele, you should listen to her if you don't already.

So as Claire mentioned i have been crazy busy. Yes, i know everyone is but i HAVE been.

i had five college girls come visit me, so counting Grace and i there were seven nineteen year old girls in an apartment in New York City. it was crazy. i didn't really all. it was kind of hard to balance what everyone wanted to do/ hard to spend time with everyone/ hard to stay focused at dance/ hard to stay focused at work/ hard and impossible to have alone time (which is something i've gotten used to having since i moved here) it was ALSO hard to not spend money when we went shopping (i think i spent the most...shoot) which is partly why i'm broke
BUT i got a lot of super cute things and they were ALL good deals...i have a serious problem...i blame my mom.

Anyway i LOVED having the girls here. i miss them all a lot! We went out and a great time.

One of the True Joys

Logues's school has a phenomenal dance program (thank you Sara, for all your hard work, dedication and for inspiring these kids to move). In fact, during middle school, all the students have to take dance and tap. The philosophy is that it taps into different creative AND critical thinking parts of the brain. I love that! Being a former dancer myself, the hairs on my neck stood up when I watched my first born perform in his first dance piece. I admit, I was nervous. Would he trip over his own feet? Does he know how to keep time to the music? Would he decide he was too scared and sit out?

This is a child who wouldn't do team sports, or sports at all for that matter. So, no packing up all the rain gear into the suburban, standing in the freezing cold to watch the weekend soccer tournament. And I admit I'm not feeling the deprivation one bit. Nope, no soccer mom here and no Suburban either. BTW, I like my Prius in all it's 48 MPG fabulousness, snub snub. But, every mom wants to see their child in the spotlight of some sort...whether it's a science fair, spelling bee, piano recital or Karate promotion. Something where you can say, "See there, that's MY kid." But Logue just never wanted to venture into that spotlight much. We had to bribe him with Legos to perform in his first grade play as a bug in "A Bug's Life." What is it about us parents needing to dress up our children and put them on display? I think that'll be another post.

The wait seemed like the checkout line at Costco on a Saturday. I was breaking into a sweat with anxiety, (oh wait, that's my normal everyday occurrence) when finally, after some deep breathing, I calmed down, looked up, and there he was, in all his glory, dancing his heart out!
Look out, another stage mom has been born.

Saturday, June 28, 2008

There is Another Author Here...Somewhere

I've been bugging Anna to write more. I felt the world needed to get to know her better, read more posts from her--as she is my co-author here on Agent Zoey. I totally understand she's still getting settled in the big city, getting all SJP on me (minus the Manolos) and with her dance classes, acting classes and work, it's all very hectic. So, I conjured up a little interview to get her creative mind whirring (and to get some dish on her life in NY as it's been 19 years since I lived there, I have to live vicariously through her). Here's how the interview went:
Me: Yo Chica! What's the down low on the NYC foshizzle?
Anna: ------
Me: Ahem...So, what's your favorite thing about New York?
Anna: ------
Me: Ok, um, what's your least favorite thing about New York?
Anna: ------
Me: Did I lose ya somewhere back at hello? Was it the slang? 'Cause I can tone it down. Chillax and all.
Anna: ------
Me: Do we have a bad connection?
Anna: ------
Me: Uh, are you there? Anna?
--New phone call--
Anna: I have three friends visiting and the apartment all to ourselves. At 3am in the morning we turn all the lights off, crank the music and dance.
Me: (To myself) I gotta get my ass to New York.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Logue is a Writing Genius

I love the fact that Logue's end of the year self reflection essay at school was full of snarcastical (combination: snarky, sarcastic, fantastical) quips that even I nor Jay knew he had in him. We are so proud of our son snubbing his school...

OK we're not normally this jaded BUT when your kid's school suspends your 7th grade kid for a bogus plagiarism charge for a WEEK, doesn't talk to the kid first about the "crime", doesn't talk to the parents at all, threatens expulsion to an otherwise extremely compliant, rule-following, A and B student and questions the kid's entire body of work because the kid copied and pasted some facts (not opinion or fiction) and left it in a different font and font color so the passage sticks out like a sore thumb as if to say "here, look! Over here is where I plagiarized! Make sure you don't miss it!" --breathe, mom, breathe--
IT IS ASININE! -- to say the least.
But whenever I get that anger bubbling up, working it's way to my fingers that want to type a really nasty email to the school (like the "You Suck" short and sweet version of an earlier post), I read Logue's essay and all is right with the world.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008


I'm late saying "Happy Father's Day" to my Dad. Not because I forgot, but because he was in France, mad cycling with Erickson Cycle Tours in Dordogne. He rode 600 miles with 40,000 feet of climbing, for two weeks. Yep, my Dad rocks! I won't give away his age (let's just say he was of the average parental age when I was born, and I'm celebrating the first anniversary of my 36th birthday soon) but while most men are on the couch watching Tiger score another birdie, my Dad is on his bike.

This isn't the only reason Dad rocks. He is my real life Superman. Graduated from Stanford and Stanford Law, Dad is my encyclopedia, dictionary and thesaurus of life. I never went through the phase where you find out your Dad doesn't know EVERYTHING. He does. He won't admit it...but he does. Dad is more intelligent than I can comprehend, speaks several languages, cooks fabulous food, knows about great wines and restaurants, the ins and outs of all things technological and if I need to buy a car...he's the man.
He's probably hating that I'm saying all this...Hi Dad.

My Dad has always been my champion. When my career path was going the polar opposite of what most father's hope, Dad cheered me on. Becoming a professional dancer was not a lucrative dream and yet Dad always gave me positive reinforcement. I will never forget the time I was scared to death to tell him I was getting married at 23. He was half asleep when I went to tell him and when I did, he said, "Cool, let's go celebrate!" Dad proves his unconditional love that way over and over again. You'd think he'd get exhausted with a nut like me! Dad has always been generous with his time, advice, encouragement and accolades. He's kind, diplomatic, practical and has a fantastic, dry sense of humor. He's there when I need him, or when Jay needs him, or when my Bean and Logue need their Papa. Sniff.

I love you Dad....Happy Father's Day.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008


The adult version of me and the 10 year old version (who's still stuck in me) are at war. It's not so much a multiple personality thing...which might be better since then I could score a ticket to a little vaca in arts and crafts and green jello heaven.
Not so much... It seems to happen when the chips are down and there is so much floating up there in the vast configuration that is my brain and BOOM! I digress. My somewhat witty, articulate thoughts burrow deeper into my cerebral cortex and all that's left are the ingrained thoughts of my much, much younger self. And it's funny, those childish thoughts, emotions and urges just seem to take over. I can't be held responsible for things like calling the neighbor, "grumpy-pants-meanie-old-man" or telling Jay (husband) he's not my BFF anymore.

Of course this started happening after many years of being passionate about my Highly Gifted, teenage son, Logue's education and running into many administrative road blocks. I have read a trazillion books, consulted for countless hours with child psychologists and education specialists and done enough research to have earned myself a degree in child psychology. I have written enough letters, emails, dissertations and education plans to put together a Master's Thesis on how to educate children.

Sidebar: Children should be treated as individuals in school-- not cows in a herd.

So, maybe it's the exhaustion of beating my head against the wall that's pushing the intelligent, grown up me aside when I try to complete an arduous task such as writing a thoughtfully composed letter to Logue's school.

I've started...It goes something like this:

Dear Logue's School Administration, (Names have been withheld from me to protect their wellbeing privacy)
First and foremost, I would like to impress how many wonderful aspects of the school Logue has experienced. The school has many passionate educators who have conquered the arduous task of disseminating a quite challenging curriculum.
However, I am writing to present my dismay with the arbitrary use or misuse of policies and procedures. I expect a school where the philosophy is: "...based on the research of noted educators, especially Howard Gardner, whose work on multiple intelligences revealed the importance of arts-infused curriculum for the benefit of all students," to be apprised of the multiple needs of those types of students.
A private school that touts accepting "bright and highly creative students" with one of the most exorbitant tuition rates in our area is not above criticism. It is a school's responsibility to take the emotional welfare and individual educational experience...

That's about where my brain said SCREW IT and the ten-year-old-me wrote this one:

Dear Logue's School Administration,
You suck.
Most Sincerely,

At least I didn't swear.

(No Anna, I didn't REALLY send it)

Sunday, June 1, 2008

One Girl...

Admit it. You have said to yourself at one time or another, "One person cannot change the world." Some even say it's hopeless, there's too much to change...
Put those notions aside for a moment and visualize the possibility of hope.

This is a challenge. Go to Girl Effect and donate something, anything--for one girl.