This past weekend, we took a little jaunt over to San Antonio. And by 'little jaunt,' i mean 'a 4-hour drive.' It was fun though--really fun. We don't get to do stuff like this very often because, if you haven't noticed, for the cost of a weekend trip, we could probably buy a third-world country. However, sometimes, I just bite-the-bullet and go for it.
Way back in July, I bought Clairey tickets to the 'Kellogg's Tour of Gymnastic Champions,' which was being held in good 'ol San Antonio. As we moved closer to the 10/5 date of the performance, Jen hadn't asked for anything specific (except more Monster High dolls, which i'm not buying anymore of because her room looks like a ghoulish orphanage with pretty monsters littering the floor), so we figured she'd love the hell outta SeaWorld and bought a 'family 4-pass.' They said it was a good deal. Again, if 'good deal' means a car payment, then they're right on! Jeez.
Then I started stashing away money because a weekend means 2 nights in a hotel and food because these things eat. They don't eat a lot though, so i always get lucky in that aspect. Breakfast, an additional meal, and a cereal bar pretty much round out their day. Moving on...
Friday, 10/5:
The day of the cereal show. Clairey was excited, we were excited for her. We checked into our hotel, was was good stuff--I like Marriott hotels--we stay in them often. The girls just love hotels. LOVE. We dropped off our bags, and took to the Riverwalk. We had some time to kill, so we mosied around, stopped and had a late lunch at Fuddrucker's (it totally smelled like cat pee in there. Gross.), then found a Mexican establishment and ordered a margarita and a corona. There were plenty of ducks, which Clairey loved and Jenna hated. Apparently, she has a deep-seated hatred for fowl that we were unaware of. After watching Jenna freak out for approximately 40 minutes, we headed back to the hotel to get ready for the show.
We decided to take a taxi, rather than get the car out of valet, drive to the venue, pay to park, etc, etc.. The taxi was only $15 (with tip), and Clairey was happy that she didn't have to sit in a booster seat. We drove through a super-sketchy part of town, wherein Clairey witnessed a full-on crack party. Well, maybe not, but I totally missed this spectacle, and by the way she described it, I think it must have been a crack party. Although, I would have no freaking clue what a 'crack party' looks like, or what one is. But there were a bunch of shady-looking people in front of a ramshackle house, and they had started a bonfire. In their driveway. Doesn't that just say 'crack party' to you? Anyways, we get to the venue, and as the taxi driver was awaiting payment, we see another girl from Clairey's gym. So, we hung with them until we went in.
Our seats were RIDICULOUS. 4th row. I could have spit on any of the Olympians at any time. I probably would have missed, but my spit would've been really, really close. Clairey had huge eyes the entire time--just watching everything. Then she'd break out into a face-splitting grin, and clap wildly. It was awesome. I was trying hard not to cry, because it was just like a Folger's commercial, but without the coffee and with added spotlights. She loved it so much, and i loved that SHE loved it so much, that I took her to the 'refinance your mortgage and buy a trinket' table and spent over $100. For which we got a free cheap-ass shopping bag. But The Munch got a fancy leotard just like Gabby's, so she was thrilled.
Afterwards, we headed outside to call our taxi-guy back. He said he was too far away. Bastard. So, i called Yellow Cab. Their system was down and they said to call back in 20 minutes. Turns out, there was a taxi line WAY down the parking lot. So, we walked down there, and I kid you not, waited an hour and a half for a taxi. There was a huge line of people waiting, and every taxi in San Antonio and the surrounding area was apparently being used. We FINALLY got back to our hotel and ordered pizza. And it was gross. Has Pizza Hut changed their cheese??? I must know.
Back to the evening...
Anyways, it was somewhat perfect. Clairey had an amazing time, and we loved being able to do this for her. Made my heart feel all warm and fuzzy. :)
Part 2 later...
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 1, 2012
The Cheetah Girl is 11!
Jen,
Last night, after you were asleep, I climbed into bed with you and just snuggled with you and those crazy, long limbs of yours. I just kept thinking of when you were a baby, a toddler, a LITTLE girl, and you would fit so perfectly right against me--with your legs curled up, and your back against my belly. Now, we're nearly identically aligned. My nose nestles in your hair, your shoulders are on my chest, and our legs are like grapevines--weaved in and out with each other. But still...you are my baby.
You have a spot right above your ear, that still smells like baby goodness. If I close my eyes tight, and think hard enough, I can still pretend that your hair is a mess of bouncing curls, that the hand holding mine is chubby and tiny (rather than thin and graceful) and that i'm fighting for bedspace with your "guys"--Pooh, Mr. Bun, and Duma. Funny enough, the 'guys' still have a special place in your bed--up by your head on their own pillow. They're such a staple, that I doubt they'll ever leave; I hope they don't. When you climb into bed at night, everything is still the same. The ONLY thing that has changed is you.
You are tall, willowy, limby, and beyond lovely. At a new 11, you are catching up to me quick--I give you one more year, and i'm sure you'll be taller than me. Even this morning, as I was making coffee and you came burrowing yourself into my arms, I realized that these days--these days where I am the taller of the two of us--are numbered. The days where I can still wrap my arms around you and feel like I am completely protecting you--are numbered. And, in all honesty, and for lack of a better word, it sucks. It makes my eyes well up with tears and a lump grows in my throat. Why? I'm not sure. I'm so proud of you and what you have become--who you are. I am so excited for your future and how you will mold it into what you want and believe. So, ultimately, I guess it makes me sad that you're growing. But, for all the times I want to stack bricks on your head to keep you small, even more than that, I want to shout out how amazing and wonderful you are. How brilliantly smart you are, how dumbfoundingly talented you are... It's a Catch-22, Love. I want you to grow, yet I want you to remain small. So, forgive me. Forgive me for pulling you into my lap. Forgive me for covering that precious and precocious face with a million kisses. Forgive me for still hugging you tight and breathing you in until my lungs can hold no more. And forgive me for forever--because forever is a long, long time--but that's how long you'll be my baby.
At 11, you are (still) quirky and silly, and at the moment, talk about 2 things: Cheetahs and Monster High. You're socially quirky--unless, of course, the topic of discussion is cheetahs or Monster High. Sometimes, you're a little out-of-control--particularly, when you're excited. Over the past year, you've started to question yourself. You started asking me, "Why am I different?" I just tell you, "Because your brain works differently than others." The way you compute things is just...different. To be honest, I wish my brain worked like yours. You have noticed that you're not like your peers. You've noticed that you're not interested in the same things. You've also noticed, unfortunately, that kids are now calling out your differences. And to that, your family says, "SO WHAT." You are, what the medical community calls, an 'intellectual badass.' Okay, maybe they don't use THAT specific term... We love you just the way you are: Quirky and cheetah-crazy. If you want to sit and play with your Monster High dolls for hours, do it. If you want to sit and draw for an entire weekend, then by all means, get all over it. You're an amazing kid, and we embrace you in all your "freakishly fabulousness." (Did you catch that Monster High reference? You're going to love that.) I guess what it boils down to is this: You are awesome. We love you for YOU. Not what your doctor labels you as, not what other people say you are--for YOU. Everything about you. We love YOU.
You, my Jenna, are everything I always wished for and hoped for in a daughter. You amaze me, you make me smile, you make me shake my head in disbelief, and you make me crazy. But those 'crazy' days are worth it, just to be your mom. I am so very proud to be your mommy. Happy 11th birthday, my crazy, quirky, cheetah girl.
I love you all the stars (and all the spots),
Mommy
xoxoxoxoxox
Last night, after you were asleep, I climbed into bed with you and just snuggled with you and those crazy, long limbs of yours. I just kept thinking of when you were a baby, a toddler, a LITTLE girl, and you would fit so perfectly right against me--with your legs curled up, and your back against my belly. Now, we're nearly identically aligned. My nose nestles in your hair, your shoulders are on my chest, and our legs are like grapevines--weaved in and out with each other. But still...you are my baby.
You have a spot right above your ear, that still smells like baby goodness. If I close my eyes tight, and think hard enough, I can still pretend that your hair is a mess of bouncing curls, that the hand holding mine is chubby and tiny (rather than thin and graceful) and that i'm fighting for bedspace with your "guys"--Pooh, Mr. Bun, and Duma. Funny enough, the 'guys' still have a special place in your bed--up by your head on their own pillow. They're such a staple, that I doubt they'll ever leave; I hope they don't. When you climb into bed at night, everything is still the same. The ONLY thing that has changed is you.
At 11, you are (still) quirky and silly, and at the moment, talk about 2 things: Cheetahs and Monster High. You're socially quirky--unless, of course, the topic of discussion is cheetahs or Monster High. Sometimes, you're a little out-of-control--particularly, when you're excited. Over the past year, you've started to question yourself. You started asking me, "Why am I different?" I just tell you, "Because your brain works differently than others." The way you compute things is just...different. To be honest, I wish my brain worked like yours. You have noticed that you're not like your peers. You've noticed that you're not interested in the same things. You've also noticed, unfortunately, that kids are now calling out your differences. And to that, your family says, "SO WHAT." You are, what the medical community calls, an 'intellectual badass.' Okay, maybe they don't use THAT specific term... We love you just the way you are: Quirky and cheetah-crazy. If you want to sit and play with your Monster High dolls for hours, do it. If you want to sit and draw for an entire weekend, then by all means, get all over it. You're an amazing kid, and we embrace you in all your "freakishly fabulousness." (Did you catch that Monster High reference? You're going to love that.) I guess what it boils down to is this: You are awesome. We love you for YOU. Not what your doctor labels you as, not what other people say you are--for YOU. Everything about you. We love YOU.
I love you all the stars (and all the spots),
Mommy
xoxoxoxoxox
Sep 11, 2012
Bad Mom
I got the "Bad Mom" look at gymnastics last night. You know the look i'm talking about--the one where the other mom looks at you, arranges a slightly upturned smile to her mouth to hide the obvious disdain, then gives you a quick look and turns away.
It was one of those rare nights where i'm at gymnastics from beginning to end (430-730). I rarely stay the entire time because...well, let's be honest here, I have other stuff that needs to happen. It's called 'LIFE.'
I'd like to explain that I'm not a crazy parent that overschedules my kids. Jenna cheers and takes piano, and Clairey takes gymnastics. For 12 hours a week. Those 12 hours are not forced upon her. The kid LOVES the gym. And, i kid you not, when she's NOT at gym, she's still doing gymnastics. In our house. (Where she is often yelled at for doing gymnastics.)
So, back to the story at hand.
The mom was at the gym for the first time. (Any 'gym moms' that are reading this now absolutely and completely understand this story--even though I haven't really told it--and are nodding their heads.) Her daughter has never taken gymnastics before, and according to the mom, is a natural. Her little one (9 years old) had fallen victim to this year's Olympics, and has been begging to take gymnastics. So, her parents obliged. I chit-chatted with this new-to-the-gym mom and watched her child and oo'd and aahh'd right along with her. THEN...she asked, "How old is your little girl?"
"9--in fact, today's her birthday.." I answered.
"Where is she?"
"She's back there...on the floor...she's the one with the really short hair and navy leo."
"Oh...you guys were already here when we got here..."
"Yeah, we go from 430-730."
"Wow...that's a long practice."
"Yes...we're here four times a week."
"WOW."
[SILENCE]
The silence always indicates that the mom wants to say something, but is trying to figure out a 'nice' way to say it.
"That's a lot for a little kid."
"It is, but she's been in gymnastics since she was 2. She begs to be here. She loves it."
And, it's always here, right at this moment, that i feel the need to elaborate. Because i very much realize that that sounds like an excuse. Like i'm one of those crazy-ass 'Toddlers in Tiaras' mothers who is forcing her kid to do something she doesn't want to. So I offer, "I'm not kidding. She really DOES love it. She wants MORE hours, and would live here if I let her."
ENTER: Look of disdain and 'bad mom' look.
One part of me wants to keep going with the explanation, but i don't. It's extremely hard to explain to people that your 9-year old has a better work ethic than most adults you know. It's hard to explain that even when she's NOT at gym, she's on her bar or beam trying to perfect her routines, or simply "conditioning." It's hard to explain to anyone BUT another team mom/dad. And I think that's why we have such an awesome comraderie. Because we KNOW how driven these kids are. We KNOW how they love being at the gym. And we know that even if we tied them down, they'd find a way to do gymnastics.
I know i'm not a bad mom. Maybe 'new gym mom' thinks I am. But I know i'm not. And my 9-year old thinks i'm the BEST mom--because i let her do gymnastics all. the. time.
It was one of those rare nights where i'm at gymnastics from beginning to end (430-730). I rarely stay the entire time because...well, let's be honest here, I have other stuff that needs to happen. It's called 'LIFE.'
I'd like to explain that I'm not a crazy parent that overschedules my kids. Jenna cheers and takes piano, and Clairey takes gymnastics. For 12 hours a week. Those 12 hours are not forced upon her. The kid LOVES the gym. And, i kid you not, when she's NOT at gym, she's still doing gymnastics. In our house. (Where she is often yelled at for doing gymnastics.)
So, back to the story at hand.
The mom was at the gym for the first time. (Any 'gym moms' that are reading this now absolutely and completely understand this story--even though I haven't really told it--and are nodding their heads.) Her daughter has never taken gymnastics before, and according to the mom, is a natural. Her little one (9 years old) had fallen victim to this year's Olympics, and has been begging to take gymnastics. So, her parents obliged. I chit-chatted with this new-to-the-gym mom and watched her child and oo'd and aahh'd right along with her. THEN...she asked, "How old is your little girl?"
"9--in fact, today's her birthday.." I answered.
"Where is she?"
"She's back there...on the floor...she's the one with the really short hair and navy leo."
"Oh...you guys were already here when we got here..."
"Yeah, we go from 430-730."
"Wow...that's a long practice."
"Yes...we're here four times a week."
"WOW."
[SILENCE]
The silence always indicates that the mom wants to say something, but is trying to figure out a 'nice' way to say it.
"That's a lot for a little kid."
"It is, but she's been in gymnastics since she was 2. She begs to be here. She loves it."
And, it's always here, right at this moment, that i feel the need to elaborate. Because i very much realize that that sounds like an excuse. Like i'm one of those crazy-ass 'Toddlers in Tiaras' mothers who is forcing her kid to do something she doesn't want to. So I offer, "I'm not kidding. She really DOES love it. She wants MORE hours, and would live here if I let her."
ENTER: Look of disdain and 'bad mom' look.
One part of me wants to keep going with the explanation, but i don't. It's extremely hard to explain to people that your 9-year old has a better work ethic than most adults you know. It's hard to explain that even when she's NOT at gym, she's on her bar or beam trying to perfect her routines, or simply "conditioning." It's hard to explain to anyone BUT another team mom/dad. And I think that's why we have such an awesome comraderie. Because we KNOW how driven these kids are. We KNOW how they love being at the gym. And we know that even if we tied them down, they'd find a way to do gymnastics.
I know i'm not a bad mom. Maybe 'new gym mom' thinks I am. But I know i'm not. And my 9-year old thinks i'm the BEST mom--because i let her do gymnastics all. the. time.
Sep 10, 2012
The Munch is 9!
Oh, Munch...I can't believe you're 9 today. It seems to me that you should still be 4. Maybe 5 at the oldest. This morning, you requested breakfast in bed. "What would you like?" I asked. "Oatmeal, toast, and coffee," you replied. Easy. You had breakfast in your beautiful princess room on a pink, leopard-print tray. And you were ecstatic about it.
I measured you this morning, and it appears that you have grown nearly 2 inches since April. Indeed, Wee One, it appears that you hit a growth spurt. It's just that everyone around you hit one, too. Like "Poquito Tito--The Smallest of the Small Ones" in Skippy John Jones, you are, indeed, small. But you are fiesty. And so full of character. If height went by personality, you'd be at least 10 feet tall. Your personality is so fabulous. It shines out of you like the brightest star you can ever imagine. You are absolutely blessed, kid. There's not a person who doesn't just want to eat you all up. Your happiness is contagious and once you're in the room, there's not a single cure for it. You make the world smile.
I hope you know how happy you make me; how blessed I feel to be your mom. How LUCKY I know I am to have you in my life. You try my patience some days, but you are such a good kid. I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I am so grateful that you're mine. It doesn't even touch the surface when I say that 'you are special.' You're so much more than that. You are pure joy. PURE JOY. I love every single freckle on your face, every tiny little hair on your head. And you, my Munch, will always and forever be my baby.
I love you all the stars,
Mommy
I measured you this morning, and it appears that you have grown nearly 2 inches since April. Indeed, Wee One, it appears that you hit a growth spurt. It's just that everyone around you hit one, too. Like "Poquito Tito--The Smallest of the Small Ones" in Skippy John Jones, you are, indeed, small. But you are fiesty. And so full of character. If height went by personality, you'd be at least 10 feet tall. Your personality is so fabulous. It shines out of you like the brightest star you can ever imagine. You are absolutely blessed, kid. There's not a person who doesn't just want to eat you all up. Your happiness is contagious and once you're in the room, there's not a single cure for it. You make the world smile.
Speaking of smiling...at your most recent gymnastics meet, you decided that you were going to smile through your floor routine. You had everyone laughing. Coach Briana was laughing so hard, she was wiping tears from her eyes. I asked you, "Why were you smiling like that?" You said, "Because gymnastics makes me happy." We know it does because you NEVER stop doing it. You are constantly on your bar or beam. As soon as you finish your school day, you're on that beam. I walk into the workout room, and you're doing pike holds on your bar.
"WHY are you doing that?"
"Because Olympic Champions always condition and never complain."
"WHY are you doing that?"
"Because Olympic Champions always condition and never complain."
Touché, my girl.
May 7, 2012
Clairey Cruise tidbits
So, we just returned from our first-ever cruise. On the cruise, there is a 'no cash' policy--everything is purchased on these cards, which eventually, gets charged to my bank account. The girls each had their own card, and with those cards, they could buy their drinks (pop, smoothies, etc.) by themselves. I have to say, it's kinda funny watching a kid sidle up to the bar and order. Anyways, on one of our "Fun Days at Sea," which loosely translates to, "You're in the middle of the ocean, so there's nothing to do but eat and drink all day," Clairey asked for a Diet Coke. Now, the kids aren't allowed to drink pop EXCEPT on special occasions. I was dropping $13 a pop on drinks that came in coconuts shaped like a monkey head, so what the hell, I let the kid have a Diet Coke.
I smiled as I watched her little self walk up to the bar, hoist herself up on the bar stool, and wait her turn. The bartender gets to Clairey, I see her smile, and start to get Clairey's pop. Clairey hands her her card, and waits. The bartender hands Clairey back a little black folder with the receipt and a pen. Clairey opens it, sits there, then leaps off the bar stool and high-tails it back to me. She's running--on a cruise ship, by a pool--and it's slippery, so i'm signing, "WALK! WALK!" She comes to a complete halt in mid run, looks at me, and whispers (loudly), "What's a 'signature'?!"
haha!
_____________________________________________________________
On the last night of the cruise, we were all sitting in the main lobby listening to a random Asian guy that sounded like Johnny Cash sing. Weird, I know. I had promised the girls that they could purchase a 'surprise' from the boat before the cruise was over. We were on the 3rd floor, and the gift shop was on the 5th--so Jenna asked if she could take her card up there, and get her little present that she had picked out. So, I gave her the spiel of being a young lady, and responsible, and not getting ANYTHING ELSE BUT WHAT WE HAD DECIDED UPON. We watched her as she headed up the stairs, then again, as she came down the elevators, bag in hand, and a HUGE smile across her face.
Then, it was Clairey's turn. She had been eyeing these 'princess' earrings the day before, and she really, really had to have them. I told her okay, and sent Jenna with her. I told Jenna, "Let your sister get her princess earrings, and do NOT try to talk her into getting something else, do you understand?" and she answered 'yes.' We have to do this because if there's a random cheetah toy/anything with any kind of relation to a big cat, Jenna will sit there and try to convince Clairey that THAT'S what she should get. We felt okay sending Clairey with no pre-specified gift in mind, because she had said that she wanted 'those princess earrings.'
About 10 minutes later, we see the girls hop into the elevator and start on their descent. Clairey walks into the bar and proudly announces, "I got a watch!" I think, "Ah, she got that crappy princess watch that I told her was junk yesterday..." then she continues, "Just like mom's in the green box!" At that point, my face goes blank, then I start laughing hysterically.
--backstory-- The cruise ship has a lovely jewelry store on level 5, which carries all types of designer watches and diamond jewelry, as well as costume jewelry/watches. On the last day, they had a huge watch sale on the 'everyday' watches, where they were clearanced for $19.99. They're pretty, stainless steel watches that come with a necklace and earring set--for adults. --/backstory--
So, Clairey had gone upstairs, bypassed the 'princess' collection, and purchased herself a 'grown up' watch out of the case. Thank GOD they were on clearance that day, because they WERE selling them for the MSRP-listed price. Her explanation? "I wanted the necklace and earrings, and I wanted to get the watch for Gamma."
I can only imagine the cruise guy's face when she went up to the case and said, "I'd like THAT watch set, please." JEESH.
AND...we asked Jenna, "Why did you let her get that?!" and she says, "Because you told me NOT to talk her out of anything!" Of course...the ONE time she listens....
I smiled as I watched her little self walk up to the bar, hoist herself up on the bar stool, and wait her turn. The bartender gets to Clairey, I see her smile, and start to get Clairey's pop. Clairey hands her her card, and waits. The bartender hands Clairey back a little black folder with the receipt and a pen. Clairey opens it, sits there, then leaps off the bar stool and high-tails it back to me. She's running--on a cruise ship, by a pool--and it's slippery, so i'm signing, "WALK! WALK!" She comes to a complete halt in mid run, looks at me, and whispers (loudly), "What's a 'signature'?!"
haha!
_____________________________________________________________
On the last night of the cruise, we were all sitting in the main lobby listening to a random Asian guy that sounded like Johnny Cash sing. Weird, I know. I had promised the girls that they could purchase a 'surprise' from the boat before the cruise was over. We were on the 3rd floor, and the gift shop was on the 5th--so Jenna asked if she could take her card up there, and get her little present that she had picked out. So, I gave her the spiel of being a young lady, and responsible, and not getting ANYTHING ELSE BUT WHAT WE HAD DECIDED UPON. We watched her as she headed up the stairs, then again, as she came down the elevators, bag in hand, and a HUGE smile across her face.
Then, it was Clairey's turn. She had been eyeing these 'princess' earrings the day before, and she really, really had to have them. I told her okay, and sent Jenna with her. I told Jenna, "Let your sister get her princess earrings, and do NOT try to talk her into getting something else, do you understand?" and she answered 'yes.' We have to do this because if there's a random cheetah toy/anything with any kind of relation to a big cat, Jenna will sit there and try to convince Clairey that THAT'S what she should get. We felt okay sending Clairey with no pre-specified gift in mind, because she had said that she wanted 'those princess earrings.'
About 10 minutes later, we see the girls hop into the elevator and start on their descent. Clairey walks into the bar and proudly announces, "I got a watch!" I think, "Ah, she got that crappy princess watch that I told her was junk yesterday..." then she continues, "Just like mom's in the green box!" At that point, my face goes blank, then I start laughing hysterically.
--backstory-- The cruise ship has a lovely jewelry store on level 5, which carries all types of designer watches and diamond jewelry, as well as costume jewelry/watches. On the last day, they had a huge watch sale on the 'everyday' watches, where they were clearanced for $19.99. They're pretty, stainless steel watches that come with a necklace and earring set--for adults. --/backstory--
So, Clairey had gone upstairs, bypassed the 'princess' collection, and purchased herself a 'grown up' watch out of the case. Thank GOD they were on clearance that day, because they WERE selling them for the MSRP-listed price. Her explanation? "I wanted the necklace and earrings, and I wanted to get the watch for Gamma."
I can only imagine the cruise guy's face when she went up to the case and said, "I'd like THAT watch set, please." JEESH.
AND...we asked Jenna, "Why did you let her get that?!" and she says, "Because you told me NOT to talk her out of anything!" Of course...the ONE time she listens....
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