Vacation Summary

Alas, the Missouri vacation has come to an end.

As I looked over my spotty entries, I feel an explanation is in order. Basically, June 25 marked the beginning of the 2010 Travel Season. It began with a family vacation to St. Louis and Lake of the Ozarks. July 1-3 the teenager and I are at choir camp in anticipation of the Europe Trip through Minnesota Ambassadors of Music. On July 6, the teenager and I fly out for England, France, Switzerland, Lichtenstein, Germany, Austria and Italy. We return July 21.

A few thoughts:

1) You know you're old when Nick at Nite is playing shows you grew up with! Since when is The Nanny a Nick at Nite show???

2) Mandating the family wear the same shirt for one day of vacation is embarassing, yet fun, for all :-)

3) Like they say on the airplane, make sure your own oxygen mask is in place before assisting others... in other words, I need to take time to destress so I can be a better parent.

Mini-Quest: Freak out? (Spa Day!)

La la la! Stress free is me... why the sudden change, you ask?

Spa Shiki.

A manicure, a pedicure, a body treatment to address the stress in my back, a dry heat and traditional sauna, a meditation room, and a whirlpool. Calming music, lemon water, a fuzzy robe... Daughter was relaxing watching her portable DVD player with headphones; Husband and teenager were doing a more active spa: sauna until they can't stand it, then run to the nearby pool. Everyone was taken care of.

We arrived at 11 a.m. The first hour or two was in and out of my zen place, as daughter was getting her hair cut and husband and teenager were roaming around. But between 1:30 and 3:30 I was blessedly alone! I saunaed, I read, I saunaed... and suddenly, I wanted to see my family! So I hung out at the whirlpool and caught the guys as they were in the middle of their active spa and convinced them to hang out for a while. Luckily, we had the place to ourselves because our laughter would have likely disrupted anyone else's peaceful zen!

Since Tuesday's spa, I have gained a little perspective. Daughter lost her headband somewhere between Missouri and Minnesota. Oh well. Believe it or not, I don't care!

Family vs. Food

Vacation is awesome because we EAT.

Teenager watched Man vs. Food, and insisted we stop at the St. Louis stops of Pappy's and Crown Candy. We did, and it was AWESOME.

We have had fabulous buffet breakfasts. Omelets, bacon, heavy cream and strawberries...

This evening we ate at the resort restaurant. Lamb chops, strip steak... and the desserts...

I won't lie and say the vacation has been perfect (see entries below) but it IS true that we laugh way more than we cry! :-) The teenager has been a particular joy this time around (which makes me think there is a lot of hope left for daughter!). He is a lot of fun - hard to believe five years went so fast!

Mini-Quest: DON'T FREAK OUT.

I had a monumental realization today. When it comes to family vacations, I can only handle so much, and then I FREAK OUT.

We're not talking the minor-freak out of yesterday. Like an earthquake tremor, it was merely a warning signal that the richter scale was about to be rocked. I love my family, and the first few days of vacation are always wonderful. But...

But I can only handle the terrible teenager for a few days before I blow. It used to be The Teenager - when we took the kid to Epcot he informed us that it "wasn't quite what he imagined," and that "next year, we should go to Magic Kingdom" (to which I responded "WE ARE IN DISNEYLAND, THE HAPPIEST FREAKIN' PLACE ON EARTH! GET HAPPY!!)

This year, it is daughter. Daughter, whose stubborn streak combined with PMS is enough to drive a saint to cuss (and as my family knows, I don't even pretend I am a saint), has been a little stressful. Usually, her care is spread out among two or three people throughout the day because she goes to school and then spends time with a Personal Care Attendant before returning home. I'm lucky - I usually get to see her after all her needs have been met and we are just chatting and relaxing.

But during vacation, besides her repeatedly telling me she wants to go home and go to school and lists off all the people she misses back home, I am also assisting her with independent living skills (remember, I said she was having PMS), encouraging/pleading/demanding she walk faster, counting to ten when she pouts when I give her an "unacceptable" answer...

So there I was today, crying on the deck with husband. Because I'm a terrible parent! What kind of parent can't handle a week long family vacation without constantly butting heads with her daughter???

And there, as I was crying on the deck, husband consoled me and reminded me that I'm a good parent, I just have limits (interpretation: stop trying to pretend you can do everything!). And I realized that patience is not a personal strength of mine. And that I neeeded God's grace. And that "perfect" family vacations, where I play the role of the perfect mother, do not exist.

So... mini-quest for the rest of vacation? See the warning signs. And don't freak out.

Vacation Quest!

The great family vacation began on Friday at 3 p.m. We are currently in St. Louis - we went to the top of the arch this morning, spent time by the pool, and are likely heading to the zoo. Daughter dislikes change more than ever and has voiced her desire to go home and go to school. Other than one minor freak out this morning at the arch, things have gone smoothly. (And the freak out? We didn't have time to get breakfast, husband had to bury his knife in the forest because he forgot he couldn't bring it into a national monument, and daughter somehow rubbed herself in the face with a black, grease like substance and the only medium available in the bathroom was toilet paper).

OK, I guess my time at this kiosk is up!

Quest-less Day of Pictures

Co-clerk and I were scheduled to take pictures for the firm website this afternoon!
We planned to leave for our appointment a half hour before it began so we could ready ourselves in a relaxing manner.

We left at the half hour mark. And of course, it was raining. We took the skyway, following the map I had printed off... In our minds, it was so easy - the studio would either be 1) very visible, 2) very well-known or 3) easy to find.

Alas, it was none of these. The skyway map, or perhaps I the reader, did a poor job of getting us close to the right building, so we had to brave the rain. Luckily, co-clerk had an umbrella. We got to the building, and realized we didn't know the studio name... and none of the names looked familiar on the directory. For some reason, I had it in my head he was on the third floor, so we went to the third floor but were met by a locked suite.

At this point co-clerk has lost a little faith in me (I can't blame her) and calls the office to see where we're supposed to be. We were in the correct building. Well, apparently we're supposed to knock loudly in case he doesn't hear us.

So I POUND on the door. A guy comes out and says, what, doesn't the doorbell work?

Ooooh, awkward.

He informs us that no photographer is there. BUT were we aware there is another building with the same name on the other side of the block?

So we run around the block, in the rain, are directed into the wrong building AGAIN, but are quickly re-directed to the correct building. We shoot up the elevator and are greeted by our lovely photographer, who was just starting to wonder where we were.

So yes, we are the farthest from relaxed. I am wet - both from the rain and from my sweat. It is hot and humid in the bathroom we are supposed to primp in. I use up two paper towels just wiping excess sweat off my forehead and nose. And of course, we are now late! In the end, I think everything turned out OK (you'll have to watch my facebook for the link to the picture!). It just goes to show - why worry? For all the worrying I did, I NEVER thought to worry about EVERYTHING that could possibly go wrong happening at the exact same time :-)

Quest-less Day of Parenting

Today was the teenager's orientation at the University. There are parent activities (there is actually an entire parent orientation, but being an atypical parent and a recent - as in, less than 10 year - alumnus, husband and I did not sign up) with your kid, and although the teenager said he could do the whole thing on his own we were skeptical. I got today, husband has tomorrow.

Teenager is so different from me. At orientation, think Melissa Joan Hart in Can't Hardly Wait - you know, running around trying to get everyone to sign her yearbook? Yeah, I was meeting people left and right, being outgoing to a fault and obtaining addresses to begin our life long friendships. (Ask SuperSaver: our first meeting, she gave me the dirtiest look and asked, "WHAT is this?" To which I meekly replied, "Um, you can put your address down if you want to keep in touch..." I still tease her about her, er, less than warm impression!!)

Contrast that to calm, quiet teenager. He leads us to table on the far side of the room. His longest conversation was with the ROTC guy (and the ROTC guy initiated it). As I left him at the end of the welcome session, I was worried. I envisioned him sad and lonely...

I still remember the first time he left for a sports camp. I thought nothing of it, because I loved camp! But the night he called, banged up and sore and not having a very good time, I cried on the other end. I just wanted to bring him home!

But when I returned at the end of the day, it was apparent he was going to be just fine. He barely acknowledged me, instead trying to keep tabs on his two new table-mates because they were on their way to dinner. While of course I was overjoyed that he wasn't going to be sad sand lonely, I admit - my drive home was definitely a little sad and lonely.

Quest-less Day at Work

Today was crazy - missed the 7:32 a.m. bus, which worked out OK because the next bus station gets more service and therefore, when I had to work until 6:45 p.m. today, it wasn't a problem (the last bus leaves for the most northern station at 5:50 p.m.). It was sort of weird to follow my usual bus down to the next station... and yes, at 6:45 p.m. I did have to sprint a block to catch the bus.

Since most of my day was spent at work, my laugh-out-loud moment of the day was work-related. At a firm-sponsored lunch meeting we had Potbelly sandwiches. Yum, right? My YUM is multiplied exponentially with the amount of onions I add. But somehow, after taking my seat, I became pinned in my spot due to a large number of people in a small conference room. My route to the onions was blocked by a coworker who was trying to get her chair around the corner of the table to the other side. I had a strong interest in helping her succeed because then I could get my onions.

However, on my right is a senior partner. I am a lowly clerk. As I was helping my coworker, awkwardly while sitting in my chair, I kept bumping into his chair. And I would apologize, and the voice in my head would tell me to stop obsessing about onions and act like a professional. But I just couldn't resist. And then, as I was leaning over to help the wheel get over his chair -- SMACK!

I hit the partner in the arm.

It wasn't a full-out punch. But it wasn't the aforementioned light taps. It was relatively solid, and after a stunned silence I started giggling. And luckily, so did the partner. Ironically, this is not the first time I've physically attacked my superiors. Last week, I watched horrified as the elevator doors almost closed on the arm of a senior partner -- and yes, I was the only person on the elevator.

Other than assault and battery, work is going great! (And yes, I did get those onions).

Day 10: End of Quest #5...and the Underwear Story

My SCARY ROOM is still SCARY. Sigh!

What does this mean? Must I resign myself to living in an unorganized cluttered mess for the next decade? On the positive side, I definitely got rid of stuff. I have a new perspective on paper, and have spent several hours chipping away at my four drawers of overstuffed hanging files. Cosmetically, the room needs a lot of work; but on the "inside" of the room (drawers, shelves, storage under the bed) things have really improved.

I'll keep working on it. Realistically, I'm not sure it's going to get done before the great vacation season begins on Friday.

On another note, in honor of Father's Day, I shall regale you with a few of my favorite father stories. I put quite a few gray hairs on my dad's head simply by being a teenage girl. In junior high, my dad and I shared a bathroom upstairs, and airhead that I was I left a used maxi pad (wrapped in toilet paper) on his reader's digest.

Closely related is the infamous Underwear Story. For whatever reason, I was carrying my most ugly, old, stained-and-holey underwear back to my room upstairs. I was downstairs, and my dad and the pastor were at the computer station working at the top of the stairs. I didn't want anyone to see this hideous underwear, so I tucked it into the elastic waistband of my pajamas. I went upstairs, hugged my dad good night, and went to my room.

I got to my room, shut the door, and was about to put the underwear into a drawer when... hey where's my underwear? And horrified I turned around, opened the door a crack and saw it lying an inch away from MY PASTOR! I shut the door and leaned against it, wondering what to do. Keep in mind, I'm in junior high; not only does my pastor now know I wear underwear, but that I wear disgusting ugly stained-and-holey underwear. Well, I couldn't just leave it there.

Resigned, I turned around, opened the door... and there was my hero-dad, walking toward my room while awkwardly kicking the underwear with an expression of "Is this my life?" on his face. He didn't say a word. For once in my life, I didn't say a word. He just kicked it into my room, our eyes met, and he went back to work on the computer with the pastor.

And that's why I love my dad. HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!

Day 9: Eighteen-ager

The teenager is now a legal adult! Happy Birthday Eighteen-ager!

The birthday reminded daughter of yet another change paving the way for her big brother's move at the end of the summer. She voiced her concern with tears this evening, prompting a family meeting where daughter shared her feelings with her brother (she loved him, she will miss him). Then she prayed for him (that he graduated, that he was an old man, that he would visit her). It was a beautiful, slightly comical and very joyful family meeting that ended with a four-part rendition of the Star Spangled Banner.

The two of them have been through a lot together, and I know it will be hard for her. Tonight, the teenager illustrated his maturity by the loving way he consoled his sister and prayed for her comfort. I am so blessed to be part of this family!

And the quest? I'm in the office, going through files... but I'm not sure it's possible to be done by the end of tomorrow!

Day 8: Running & Cupcake Suckers

Today I literally ran out of the office at 5:45. The last bus left at 5:58. I ran two blocks, briskly walked the third, huffed as I waited for the walk sign, ran the last block, saw my bus pull up to the stop down the street, so ran up the street the final block and collapsed on the bus.

Only to sit in the bus in cabin and Grandma's Marathon traffic (interpretation - we inched along the freeway). I didn't get to the lot until seven p.m. I was hungry. I was tired. I was frustrated with traffic. I didn't think it was possible to emotionally recover and enjoy my family. Especially after perhaps irrationally yelling at husband for a series of things he can't control.

Despite being slightly afraid, my family pursued me in love and we had a great family dinner. The teenager turns 18 tomorrow! Like any good mom, I baked (purchased) gourmet cupcakes and the greatest invention ever - cupcake suckers!

And the quest... ugh I don't know if I can finish it...


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Day 7: Rough Day

The day started off with a ticket. A $108 ticket for not displaying my tabs. As you can see, the officer HAD to see my tabs through my windshield when he gave me a ticket! I took this picture as proof.

I'm a lawyer-in-training. I was not about to let this stand. I went to the court house, took my number, and sat down to wait. This is not the first time I've done this; once, in undergrad, I got two parking tickets in the same day. The short story is that I was too close to a fire hydrant, and I had a miscommunication with the property office about which lot we could park in for free. It happened the first month in my first apartment the summer after Freshman year. I had about $70 to my name. I was in tears as I explained to the officer that I had no money, this was my first summer in the big city, etc. etc. I still remember that poor man, watching me cry. With a big sigh he said, "How much can you pay?" I think I paid $40.

This time around, I am blessed to have more than $70 to my name. Just like the first time, I told the truth with passion.

Me: "Sir, I'm here because I got a ticket for not displaying my tabs, but they were clearly displayed through my windshield."

Hearing Officer: "Is there a good reason why you don't have the tabs on your plates?"

Me: "No. None that are directly relevant."

HO: "I can appreciate that."

Now, in case you think I'm above playing the "kid" card, I did manage to throw that in as I was explaining that things have been really busy... you know, since purchasing them on April 13... because they expired the last day of February...

He cut it down to to $54. Procrastination cost me $3.60 each week. About $.50 per day. For less then a cup of coffee each day, you too can procrastinate like a pro...

And related to the quest, my family did run down to the basement for a few minutes while the worst of the storms went through (tornado sighted southeast of town). My thought? How furious I would be if all the crap in the dumpster got mixed back in with all my stuff in the SCARY ROOM if a tornado went through...

Day 6: Twins Game!

Twinsfan and I went to Target field on this lovely evening to watch the Twins beat the Rockies 2-1. The highlight of the evening included eating a Twins Big Dog (nothing like the Dome Dog, sad!), a heaping bowl of nachos, and the 3.5 mile back to Twinsfan's home (had to walk off all the food I ate!). Yes Dad, I am a believer - outdoor baseball does have some magical abiance that the Dome cannot match (at least, on a perfect Minnesota evening such as tonight

What quest?

Day 5: Falling off the wagon

My work today consisted of picking up a new three-drawer organizer that Coach picked up for me at Office Max. I fear I am falling off the wagon. And yet, I am consoled by the thought that my best home work is done over the weekend.

I need to be inspired. I am going to read one of my organizing books to get myself back into the mood. I have a lot of work left to do! And very little energy...

Day 4: Relapse

Don't tell Coach... but today I had a slight relapse. See, I was reading Amanda's comment to Day 3, and I wanted to take a picture of all the plastic sheet protectors for perspective, right? So I got out my stash, and then made the fatal error...

See, I haven't taken out the last bag of trash yet. So I dug into the bag and pulled out my discarded sheets... you know, just for the picture.

So then I took the picture... and I was putting my stash away... but I realized if I smooshed them all together, I wouldn't have to throw ANY of them away!!!

I cringe as I imagine Coach's face as she reads this, her jaw dropped to the floor with a strangled, high-pitched scream emitting from her throat...

Day 3: Can you believe it's Day 3?

I am an amazing pack rat. But it comes in handy. For example, I opened up an anniversary card from my parents, where my mom had written "Can you believe it's been two years?" I then opened up another anniversary card, where my mom wrote "Can you believe it's been four years?"

I'm still laughing. Now, had I thrown them away I would never have known my mom had pre-written all my anniversary cards and simply changed the number...

The idea behind a Coach is that she makes you do what you don't want to do, but you need to do in order to reach your goals. Coach has all sorts of crazy ideas: for example, instead of filling up space with crap, think about what you actually really want/use and throw the rest. Example: Coach asks, why are you keeping all these old textbooks? I respond, because I bought them and they look nice. I realize I never use them, and since I am now in law school, I really have no need to reference "Educational Psychology." So now my bookshelves look like this:



I am also very happy that we moved the computers all to one desk.



And that we threw away an obscene number of writing utensils, binders and plastic sheet protectors. If you would like a box of binders and hundreds of plastic sheet protectors, let me know ASAP on the blog; I threw away at least two dozen binders and am donating another dozen to the thrift store, while keeping a dozen of my favorites. As far as sheet protectors, I am keeping about two inches worth and threw away the remaining inch. I pared down my writing utensils by 90% - at least a few hundred ended up in the garbage bag. Like children who hoard food, I apparently hoard select office supplies for fear I will run out.

As you can see, I still have some sorting work to do. Coach and I went to Walmart and purchased these beautiful clear, see-through "archive" boxes: one for each member of the family.




Until next time!

Day 2: The Depression

"Husband, I am going to throw away these Christmas cards."
"Have they ever been used?
"No..."
"Can't you just use them this year?"
"Husband, this is why we have so much stuff! I need you to be supportive of me and affirm me since I am trying to get rid of some of our crap!"
Honey, you married a much older man. Its like I lived through the Depression. Those cards still have use."

Sigh! A call to ChoirFriend, who will be called CleanSweepCoach for the next few days, produced the advice that, if I think I will use them this Christmas, store the card with my Christmas stuff. So I went through the pile and threw away some silver foil stuff I was into a few years ago, kept the cute reindeer ones, and continued on my quest.

CleanSweepCoach came over and helped me see some of the errors in my ways. I had always thought I was a relatively organized person, and when I read in organizing books about people who kept re-buying things because they couldn't find the initial product, I assumed that was someone else.

But the look in Coach's eyes as she took in my ice cream pail, shoe box and two cups filled with writing utensils, or my dozens of three ring binders (I'm afraid to tell her of the boxes of binders in the garage... I'm also afraid to show her the large box of office supplies hidden under the guest bed that was born in a U of M dorm room back in '99) -- well, let's just say I realized I wasn't nearly as organized as I thought.

On another depressing note, I am throwing myself into my project here in an effort to relieve some of my emotion related to my Grandma's current state of poor physical health. I found some notecards she gave me and yeah, I shed a few tears. As a reward for my hard work today, and because I eat my feelings, Coach and I made a DQ stop :-) Somehow, tears always taste better with DQ soft serve...

Day 1: Mental Preparation

Yeah... I didn't do anything on the room today... instead, after getting home from work the family went out to eat, then played Bocci Ball in the yard, then finished off the teenager's two-layered sponge cake with chocolate frosting and raspberry filling that he made last night after watching Cake Boss.

Maybe tomorrow...

Quest #5: Clean Sweep

The next 10 days will be spent decluttering and organizing THE SCARY ROOM. As ChoirFriend will tell you, it is really hard for me to throw things away... THE SCARY ROOM never had a chance, from day 1 it was the room where we stored all the boxes we hadn't unpacked when we moved... our poor guests have to somehow go to sleep despite the general chaos looming overhead... it is time to take a stand against my stuff!

P.S. I found a pretty awesome "Clean Sweep Assessment" that will be helpful for future Quests!

Day 10: End of Quest #4

Quest #4 was a rousing success. Daughter and I are on much better terms. The biggest improvement is my tone - instead of angry and frustrated demands, I'm making calm and patient requests. And tonight she sought me out, sat on the couch next to me, and began chattering away. I'm glad I left my pointless nagging in my 20's!

Other Quest updates: Although I had to run to catch the bus twice this week, I haven't missed it! In the morning, the key is to park at the far end of the lot and then run towards the bus... would you be able to drive away if you saw a grey SUV careen around the corner (after running the red turn arrow, but seriously if nobody is coming what is the point of sitting at a red turn arrow?), park on the farthest end of the lot, out hops a harried Asian girl with no makeup (in the purse) and slight limp as she runs in her businessware the 1/8 mile to the bus in such a fashion that if you drive forward you would run her over? No, you would not drive away, and neither have the bus drivers I have encountered.

Day 9: My Penelope

As the Daughter Dare winds down, I've become more aware of daughter's needs. I've been listening more, observing more... and I'm realizing that she is very anxious about her brother graduating and leaving her. She has a major need for friendly and loving physical contact. And she has a lot to say these days.

Tonight daughter requested to watch Penelope (she also wanted to find Penelope on Netflix herself, she did a very good job!). The psycho-analyst in me wonders if she likes watching Penelope because, somehow, she sees herself as the girl everyone judged but ended up living happily ever after with the boy in the end. I see myself in Penelope's mom - lovingly cruel in her desire to protect her daughter. When daughter talks about getting married someday, I struggle with what to tell her. Will she get married? Or should I say, will she find a boy, a man, who won't take advantage of her and will love her and respect her? Should I instead prepare her that maybe marriage isn't for her? Do I forever tell her that Someday, she'll get married?

Day 8: Glee!

Tonight daughter joined me on the couch to snuggle and watch Glee. It has been a LONG time... I can't remember the last time that we cuddled up to watch TV and just enjoyed each other's company. When we're all snuggled up, and daughter begins to sing along with the Journey medley, it doesn't sting when I gently shake my head and ask her to listen to the TV. And when the show finishes with Over the Rainbow, I overrule my initial decree of no singing by joining in with daughter (hey, at least she knows the words to this one)! I've also noticed that my patience with daughter extends to increased patience generally. Try the Daughter Dare - you'll be surprised how quickly the benefits outweigh minor frustrations!

Day 7: Hair Hair Everywhere

This quest is worth its weight in gold. Many tension-filled moments have been replaced with happy conversations or acts of affection. And today, when the moment arose when some intervention was needed, I was able to act both calmly, and relatively guilt-free.

Daughter has pretty blond hair cut a few inches below the shoulders. A problem that has developed is her "flapping" technique of pulling her fingers through her hair and then flipping it over her shoulder. Flapping means she does it compulsively, almost obsessively at times. It isn't your typical nervous habit.

While doing some online research so I could better explain flapping, I came across an article that leads me to think daughter has some autism tendencies. And it also reinforces the importance of reducing flapping behaviors. When daughter first came to live with us, she had an elastic band that she flapped almost constantly. Mean mommy that I am, the elastic bands disappeared. Daughter has made significant improvements in the past five years, perhaps due in part to reducing the amount of time spent flapping and increasing her interpersonal interactions.

Anyways, this evening I gave daughter my kind, non-nagging prompt to stop playing with her hair. And when she did it again, I kindly directed her to bring me a hair binder and I french braided her hair. I was sure to tell her how cute she looked, and how tomorrow it would be wavy, and that if she didn't want it braided she needed to try not to play with her hair. Daughter was visibly unhappy about the braid, but when she was praised later in the evening for handling the situation maturely she proudly said she was grown up. If I had shamed her for hair flapping (my more typical and natural reaction), I am pretty sure the story would lack a happy ending.

Oh Daughter Dare, You are Changing my Life!

Day 6: Make a Joyful Noise

One thing about daughter is that she loves to sing. Choirfriend has mainstreamed daughter with the high school choir, daughter loves praise and worship at church, and she sings along with Hannah Montana nonstop.

She is at a moment in her singing career that I, too, remember having. It was the day that I thought I could sing along with any song, even if I didn't know the words, because I was SUCH a good singer I could simply hear the word and then sing it and nobody was the wiser.

My loving father put an end to that ("Let's just listen to the tape!"). And while I kind of understood why then, I TOTALLY understand now.

Perhaps you, too, have been around a singer who obviously has no idea what the words are, but sings along anyways. And I admit, in the privacy of my car, I still often belt out the wrong words ("Se-cret Asian Man! Se-cret Asian Man!"). I don't have a solution for every moment, but I found out on Sunday that one way to reduce Sunday-morning singing-stress is to sit next to the speakers.

(And yes, the family found this out because we were a little late getting into church. But that's another quest).

Day 5: Laundromat and the Flashback Puke Story

Five years ago, when I was a new mom, I first realized why one would ever go to a laundromat.

The details are kind of fuzzy. I think daughter came downstairs with puke all over herself. I had never been responsible for cleaning up another human's puke before, and I was grossed out to say the least. I think I stuck her in the shower (fully clothed) while I went upstairs to find clean clothes. Or perhaps teenager was the one puking first, and then daughter puked in sympathy.

Either way, I remember walking upstairs, gagging at the smell, and hearing a child's retching fill my ears as I ran back downstairs to implore husband to take care of the puke-filled bedding. (Seriously, BOTH of them on the SAME day? They couldn't initiate me slowly?). Yes, I am ashamed I couldn't courageously stand my ground. An auditorium full of people hearing me speak is no problem; jumping off of a cliff into a river in Belize is cake. But battling the puke smell before coffee? Husband is the only one strong enough to take that on.

I think husband had to put the bedding in the washer because 1) every time I got a whiff I started gagging and 2) I was busy in the bathroom hosing off daughter. What I do remember is pulling teenager's comforter out of our washer and reeling in horror as I realized there were still puke-chunks and stains attached. Apparently, there wasn't enough room for the stupid thing to agitate in the washer. Now I had wet puke on a blanket. Great.

I was ready to throw them away and start over. I don't remember who told me to go to the laundromat, but I took their advice, and low and behold, the HUGE washer and dryer did the trick. Which made me think about my own bedding... it became clear to me that I wasn't actually washing my own comforter in my machine, I was simply getting it wet.

This long intro concludes with the following daughter dare moment: I sent daughter upstairs to get dressed because we were going to the laundromat. I got ready, and yelled up the stairs to see if she was ready. She said no, she was still getting dressed. Hmmm, she has been upstairs for about twenty minutes. I walk up to her room, knocked, and there she is with only a new shirt on. I asked what she had been doing, and she pointed to her ball.

Oh my word she has been playing up here for the past twenty minutes after I SPECIFICALLY told her to get ready.

Five days ago, I would have given her quite a scolding. Today, I swallowed the aggravation, told her we needed to get to the laundromat, and asked her to hurry. And amazingly, it's OK. At the end of the day, the loss of the ten minutes it took her to get herself back downstairs has not affected me at all. Yes Michelle, this quest is making me realize how great life could be if I just stopped nagging the poor girl.


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Day 4: Towels and Dog Hair

Daughter is doing pretty good. She wore a very trendy jean and and pink Viking-jersey combo. I did ask her to try again with her elastic headband (that doesn't count as nagging, if you ask once in a really nice voice).

The Daughter Dare Moment occurred within the context of laundry. Daughter had clothes in the washer that needed to be put in the dryer. I had towels in the dryer. I asked daughter to go to the basement and change her clothes over. When she came back upstairs, I asked her where the towels were and she replied downstairs. I asked her, where downstairs and she said the dryer.

I realized I was wasting time and patience so we went downstairs together to investigate.

She, like a pro, had placed them in an empty basket. I then asked her to take them upstairs and fold them while I proceeded to get ready for the day. As I was finishing up in the bathroom, I had this image of daughter folding the clean towels on the carpet... its been a week since the last vacuuming... nothing like getting out of the shower, wrapping yourself in a "clean" towel only to find yourself plastered with a million, inch-long black hairs...

I rush out of the bathroom to tell daughter to fold the towels on the bed or couch or table... but there lie the towels, folded (not perfectly, but folded) in the basket. I swallow the question of where she folded them, I deny the desire to shake out the towels and redo them, and continue with my day. And I laugh - seriously, was I about to have a minor crises over the fact someone in the house immediately folded a load of laundry upon mother request?

I'm not gonna lie, it does take some concerted effort to not be an OCD freak parent. But so far, I'm really happy with the results. Not only has daughter been slightly more playful with me this week, but I find our conversations are improving in quality as well. Yesterday she teased me because she heard me burp (I didn't think it was that loud) and said Nice Burp. She has never done that before! I like it.

Day 3: Chips

It's been a long day. Six hours of sleep, took the late bus home, hungry...

Daughter is excited to see me, and runs into the kitchen.

"You're home!"
Hi daughter. How was school?
"Great!"
Tomorrow's the last day of school - (I say as I dip a corn chip into some guacamole)
"Yup!"
Are you having a party?
"No."
Oh, what are you doing for the last day of school?
*Shrug* "Don't know."
Are you cooking?
"Yes."
What are you cooking (I ask as I take a bite of chip)
"Chips."

Really, I ask myself? Really, you're cooking chips? Or are you just saying that because you're watching me eat chips? I'm tired. I Obsessively-compulsively want to know if she really IS making chips, or if she is just saying chips because she sees me eating chips.

But, since I am striving to reach a better me, I let it go. OK, I didn't let it go at first. FIRST, I asked daughter if she was really cooking chips, to which she replied No. That is the WORST - when she changes her answer. Now there is a 50-50 chance that she really IS making chips, or that she is just saying chips because she sees me eating chips, and now realizes that she was telling a lie. Although I'm not sure daughter is truly capable of telling a lie; more than likely, she doesn't really understand the question.

On the bright side, after the 50-50 answer, I really did just let it go. But I might send her teacher an email asking if they are cooking chips tomorrow...

Day 2: Shirt with stain

Today was blue plaid bermuda shorts, and a blue shirt with a small stain on the chest. I was pretty sleepy this morning, so I wasn't too concerned.

I didn't get to see daughter much today; I was a guest to a Jewel concert this evening so I missed seeing her besides our time together while I laid in a half-sleep stupor on the couch and she watched TV while waiting for the bus.

Yes, Jewel was AWESOME. Second row tickets. She is amazing - and she played lots of stuff from Pieces of You, a high school classic!

Day 1: I am not the fashion police

It was hard to get up this morning - the weekend was pretty tiring! As I slowly got up, I realized daughter was no where to be seen... did she oversleep? As I stood at the bottom of the stairs and began yelling for her, slowly it crept into my mind that I was on the Daughter Dare. Oh yeah. I heard her yell that she was up, and instead of demanding to see what she was wearing, I left the stairs and began my day.

I admit, I am the self-proclaimed fashion police of my home. It is the big fish in a small pond phenomenon; in the real world I don't stand out by any means as a Sex in the City fashionista or a Vogue trendsetter. But in my home, I know what NOT to wear, and I am as ruthless as Simon Cowell. It began with citations for flagrant violations - the daughter trying to wear sweatpants to school; putting on shirts that were too short because she had outgrown them; or wearing a sweatshirt when it was 80 degrees outside. But slowly, over time, it became more about color coordination. Or preventing daughter from wearing the same three shirts all month long. And things that were once passable became horrible, and I was sending the poor girl upstairs to change on a daily basis.

But I want to change. So today, when daughter came down in pink plaid bermuda shorts and her white and pick baseball jersey, with a black and white polka dotted tank top underneath, I smiled. Last week, the black and white polka dotted tank top would have been an instant pullover; but today - well really, who cares? I did make a swimsuit change - I am 99% sure the one she chose would be borderline obscene because of how much she's grown - but that is a good, just reason to impose my police power. Polka dots is similar to going five miles over the speed limit - an infraction, but who has time to deal with them?

And I admit, today daughter and I had some good rapport. We're off to a good start.