Tiny Dancer

At some point in the life of most little girls, they will be subjected to The Recital.  This is the one event that parents adore yet cringe at simultaneously.   Little girls, all adorable in their toule and lace, tapping and piroetting for an audience of overexcited moms hoping their little angel will be the next prima ballerina (although after seeing Black Swan I don't know why any parent would wish for that, but eh, some moms are nuts).  The flip side is that for months you've been driving your kid to dance class every week, missing meals, torturing the rest of the family with the schedule.  You've also emptied most of your bank account paying for the The Recital outfit, which I remember as the itchiest thing I've ever put on my body and as a result the only pictures my parents have of me in said outfit involve crying.  To this day, I blame that dance outfit for my inability to relate to others.  OK, not really.

Lucky for us, we didn't have to drive Ayla anywhere for dance.  The lessons happened right at school during the school day.  I was never inconvenienced with schedule conflicts, however I did take out a small loan for The Recital outfit.  Really, the biggest pain was arranging a sitter for the boys during the rehearsal and Recital.  The last thing I needed to deal with during The Recital was Orion and Kai thinking they belonged on the stage too.  Just let that image sink in for a bit...feathers and tap shoes flying everywhere, screaming little girls, dogs and cats living together...mass hysteria!  Luckily, I have friends who watched them so all the attention was on Ayla. 

The rehearsal was great.  She danced and looked like she was having a great time.  All in all, I was impressed at the rehearsal and thought she dealt with being on stage pretty well. She is the youngest and littlest girl in her class, so my expectations were way exceeded.  Except for that one time where the dance instructor scolded her for jumping.  After that she stood there with her fingers in her mouth sticking her tongue out.  Yup, that's the attitude I'm looking forward to in 12 years. 

On the day of The Recital, we made it in time to prep in the school hallway with 40 other little girls in various outfits and dozens of tap shoes (the sound was deafening). The linoleum was like an ice rink with the tap shoes; little girls were flying everywhere just trying to walk.  It was like an episode of Dancing with the Stars, only with more talent. I thought boys were hyper, but apparently that award goes to anyone wearing tap shoes. Of course, if I was wearing itchy costumes (or wearing tap shoes) I wouldn't sit still either. It took all the willpower of the adults in the hall to get those girls out on stage. Once there, I was hopeful for a repeat of the rehearsal performance. But instead, my little darling stood on stage, fingers in her mouth, looking out at the big dark audience and said "Mommy...I want my Mommy" very softly through the whole song. It was the most pitiful and cutest thing ever! Other parents even started commenting, "Look at the little one on the end, she's so cute!" Sigh. Well, I suppose there is always gymnastics.  At least the outfits are cheaper.

It's Whiskey Then...

Remember those body fluids I didn't want to clean up?  Have you ever seen the look on a kid's face just before they are about to projectile vomit?  It's a mixture of surprise and "do I have to eat that liver" kind of look.  Then the mouth slowly opens and that gagging sound happens...right before you get sprayed with it.  Heavy sigh...I completely understand why single parents may choose to bury their sorrows in alcohol because honestly nothing else is possible to indulge in with kids around.  Food is impossible because they take all mine.  Can't online gamble or sext because the kids hoard the computer or try and steal my phone.  Really, it's only me and the wine after they are all in bed. At least the wine doesn't talk back.

Anyone concerned about my welfare, don't be.  I'm not going to become a raging alcoholic because pretty soon I'll run out of wine (or whiskey now!) and the thought of taking the kids into a wine store with ALL those glass bottles makes me sober.  And frankly, the fam camp posse has been quite supportive, even to the point of one guy giving Kai the "your the man of the house now" talk.  It was really cute.  And then he threatened to duct tape him to the chair, which was hilarious!  Kai's response was "I'll duct tape YOU to a chair."  Little man's getting sassy. 

News on the tornado front, "Lonnie" and I may have found a house to rent in the College Hill district.  It was a toss up between 2 places, one that had a nice layout and neat back yard but no one would be able to visit unless they slept in the garage.  The other was a bit worn, but bigger, fully fenced backyard, and fence opens up to the College Hill park.  We went with the latter.  At least if the kids escape the back fence, they'll have a whole park to navigate before finding a road.  Thankfully, it's not a dry county!

What Mother's Day?

You ever have one of those days where everything just goes right?  A day where the kids, while challenging, are really just awesome and the rain that was supposed to ruin a Saturday never comes? A day where you have laryngitis so bad that you can't make a single sound, yet the kids don't take advantage of that weakness by running out of squeaking range?  I had that day yesterday.  We went to a street fair in Montgomery and the kids danced to music and got their bouncy-house fix.  Then later we rode the local paddlewheel boat up the Arkansas River with my friend Michelle, and then stayed at the riverfront for Second Saturday and watched the kids run all around to live music until the fireworks (when it actually did start raining, but we saw the fireworks from a dry car).  Only once did I consider that I should have brought life jackets for the boat ride (it was a triple decker dinner cruise, so not life jackets not required).  Only once did I worry that 10pm would be too late to wait for fireworks.  And only once did I lose Kai in the crowd--the train went by, I found him next to the fence watching it.  Yesterday was a day that makes you thankful you have kids to share the world with.

And then there was today.  Mother's Day of all ironies.  If I have to clean another stinking body fluid off the floor, so help me, I'm going straight to whiskey!  No one escaped at the grocery store (which was nice), but once we were home Orion found the street and figured that was a better place to play then the yard.  I, in my daze of head cold and laryngitis, left the car radio on while Ayla was sleeping and killed the battery (no it wasn't to hot to leave her in there).  Thankfully, fam camps guys are helpers (well, you would be too if a cute girl walked up and said "I have a guy problem only you can fix" :), and we jumped the car back to life.  And while we were jumping the car, naked and wet children started running out of the trailer having somehow opened the shower door.  Naps were non-existent, so by evening everyone was in rare form and I think the only reason the neighbors didn't suspect my kids screaming was a problem was because they were drunk. I poured myself a class of wine at 6pm.  It's still sitting on the counter.

This is Week One without "Lonnie".  For those of you just tuning in, here's the story.  Upon arriving in Alabama, we figured that we probably would not be returning to Colorado Springs.  We were expecting to go back to Colorado somewhere, just not there.  "Lonnie" was fed up with his job and had been scoping out things.  He interviewed for a few active guard positions (still National Guard but full time like active duty).  I requested to live in a green place with water, and "Lonnie" insisted on having mountains.  Neither us of got our wish, which means that we'll be perfectly happy...in Wichita Kansas.  The "arts center" of Kansas.  The home of Westboro Baptist Church.  It does have a river, or at least that's what the map suggests.  The college mascot is the flying broomsticks (which I find epically funny and very Harry Potter-ish) and Wichita State is a leading autism research center. 

One stipulation to the job was that "Lonnie" start immediately, or in calendar days 7 May.  After our whirlwind Talladega weekend, "Lonnie" did the entire 13 hour drive in one day to make it to work on time his first day.  This job is permanent, meaning that "Lonnie" will be a full time National Guard engineer with all the benefits of being active military (like health care and sex scandals).  We won't be leaving Kansas until he retires or unless we can't take the vast, mind-numbing flatness.  He is charged with doing his job, finding something redeeming about living in Kansas, and finding us a place to live before June.  I'm alone with the kids until I'm released from Maxwell in June.  I'm charged with not blowing up the trailer and getting everyone to Kansas alive and without ER visits.  At this point, we are both winning (and not in a Charlie Sheen kinda way).  "Lonnie" has been skyping me on tours of rental houses in an old city area called College Hill-I figure, no way am I living in the country with no scenery, might as well live in the city so I can try and forget that I'm in Kansas.  Other than the car dying and some minor scraps, things appear to be in order here (knock wood, throw salt over my left shoulder, cross myself, cross fingers, cross toes...).

Now, where's my wine? 

Culture Immersion...I speak fluent redneck

I'll eventually get to the blog where I talk about being a single parent again.  Sorry, ya'll are gonna have to wait for it because something WAY more monumental happened last weekend.  We did a full cultural immersion into Southern living.  We spoke the language, we wore the clothes, we heard the live country music, but avoided the beer (sorry, some things I won't do)...ladies and gentlemen, we camped on the infield of Talladega superspeedway for the Talladega 500 NASCAR event!!  We figured, as long as we are living in Alabama and experiencing the South that we may as well attend the Holy Grail of redneck sporting events (no, not closeline highjump, old tire toss, or name that gun), it's not just NASCAR, it's Talladega! And for the record, Ricky Bobby is not a real race car driver, however Dick Trickle is :)

So, a little background to this situtation.  My Dad loves NASCAR.  He and friends used to camp out at Watkins Glen (a NY NASCAR track) frequently.  So when we moved to Alabama I immediately knew that my Christmas present to my Dad would be a Talladega weekend.  I conspired with my Grandma to arrange the logistics and it all worked out.  "Lonnie", my Dad, the kids, and trailer all left for the race on Thursday in order to get to our infield campsite during an afternoon track downtime.  Basically, you have to drive over the race track to get big rigs into the infield, and rather than trying to do all that with kids at night, they left early.  I joined them on Friday after my classes. I arrived in still in my uniform.  This is apparently a license to be hit on and harrassed about having guns in the same conversation.  Thank you track security, camoflage does not automatically equate to being heavily armed.  Oh wait, I'm in Alabama...I withdrawal my objection.  When I got to our site, literally 50 yards from Turn 2 (yes, that's close), there was a race going on and the boys were in their kid-headphones enthrawed with the cars; Ayla was passed out in the trailer with her headphones still on beccause she refused to take them off.

NASCAR itself is pretty simple...all the cars go left in a circle really fast.  Many people don't even watch the actual race. They sit outside their campers and watch it on TV!  We got to know the "neighbors" who were all enthralled with the kids and thought we were the best parents ever by bringing our kids to a race (we were called "A true NASCAR family" more than once, not sure if I should be proud).  I'm a bit scared that was the standard I needed to exceed here.  I went walking with Kai and Ayla during Orion's nap so that I could get a lay of the land.  We walked down the party street made up of young people and trailers tricked out with stereo systems, stripper poles-not kidding, and lots of alcohol.  It was only 6pm-still daylight-so I didn't imagine I'd be exposing the kids to frat life so early.  They fit right in by crashing a party when Ayla started dancing and slapping her butt to some music while Kai tried to steal a watermelon.  We were invited to stay and offered the watermelon, which I politely refused.  Kai also managed to scrouge food from almost every trailer we passed.

Saturday it rained. And rained. And rained.  I felt really bad for the people in tents...and those who passed out outside.  You can't race when it rains because, like everyone in the state of Colorado, NASCAR doesn't know how to drive in the rain.  We were camped on a grass site, meaning that there was standing water and no chance to avoid mud.  After a few hours, I was stir crazy with all the kids couped up, so we went for a drive to make them sleep.  The rain amazingly stopped and with special jet engine dryer trucks, they were able to dry the track enough to race.  There was a good crash right in front of us (best part of the race) and the final laps were sublime at sunset.  I know, NASCAR and sublime in the same sentance...didn't think it was possible. 

 

After the kids were in bed, "Lonnie" and I walked down to the 'lude and decivious' area for a live Chris Young concert.  We saw the stripper poles being used (not by strippers, just by drunk 40-somethings in cowboy boots), specially crafted beer/music wagons with lights!, and a lot of drunks dancing in the mud.  I will take this opportunity to note that NASCAR fans can seriously constuct some of the most amazing structures out of plywood and 2x4s.  Simply add a couch and voila, perfect track-side viewing. 

 

The morning after inspired me to consider that NASCAR is what you get when you have the people of Walmart/state fair/flea market as one unique species all mixed with alcohol.  It was Animal House with more mud, minus teeth and college educations.  And Danica Patrick's pinup (shes' the girl driver).  Because I always make sure that when I go somewhere in my RV that I pack the tiki bar, disco ball, and mechanical bull.  Oh, and the flag of my favorite college football team (which would have to be Alabama if I didn't want my trailer set on fire by a rival).

 

 

Now, I won't go into the moments when we were able to sign our names on the racetrack finish line, watched all the drivers do the catwalk, or got a tour of pit row before the race.  Nor will I go into how Kai and I snuck back into the pits for the "Drivers, start your engines" part.  What I really want to impart on everyone is that, despite all that cool stuff, my kids were more interested in throwing rocks into the leftover puddles than in watching cars go 200mph. That and getting beads from anyone offering them.  I have to say, they understand this whole immersion things better than the rest of us.  We'll have to work on curing them of the accents!