September 2009 Archives

The other day, I went on a bike ride with my rented Trek road race bike. I call her Enterprise. Get it? It's a Trek and it's a rental...

Anyhoo, I went to put it in the garage, and the seat came up, kinda leaned over. It was hanging by a thread on the post. So, the next day, I went in and called Ricardo on the way to take the bike to be fixed,
"They are gonna make me pay for this, I just know it."

"Why don't you try to just start with being nice. Try a little sugar first, and if that doesn't work, use your regular venom."

Okay, he didn't say venom out loud.

But I promised I would try this whole nice gig.

I took it in, explained as nicely and briefly (both very difficult for me to accomplish) as possible, and they just fixed it. They told me over an over again how happy they were that it didn't break while I was riding it. One of the guys took the seat off, and said, "Wow, that's a warranty issue." It was about to just break off. Both bike dudes, again said how grateful they were that I wasn't hurt. Wow, that's nice.

The bike was fixed and I went home. And I never had to sign anything, explain my case, or pay a dime.

Whew. This new nice thing might work out.

That's how I roll.

Back in Texas, we'd say, "That ain't right" upon seeing this.
It's funny how a weekend with not much on the docket suddenly fills up. We went non-stop this weekend, and that's even with a few cancellations. What, with all the pneumonia and all, I was so mean and didn't let Max go to football practice. He was sick enough to not put up a fight about it.

So, by Saturday, Ricardo and I had to get to the gym and workout, and although it was well after the 24 hours of antibiotics and no fevers for the kids, still, we didn't want to put them in the kid care room at the gym. Ricardo took them to sit in the lobby where they could watch him play basketball. We were THOSE people. Ricardo could keep an eye on them and they had their video games and a tv to keep them still and out of trouble.

Meanwhile, I was picking up my ride for the upcoming triathlon. And then JulzHOLLA! and I were going to ride. Learning to get comfy on a road race bike is slightly different than the hybrid I'd been borrowing from Sven. Tack on that we had to maneuver through the Saturday afternoon everyone's getting their errands done before the game starts traffic and I think I had a couple of anxiety attacks. I actually looked at the grass separating my bike path from the traffic and thought, "Hmmm, I bet that's a standard 6' distance. And when I go flying off this bike my head will exceed that distance and probably land right in front of a car's tire. Good thing I have this helmet on. How do I downshift?" It went something like that.

To make matters worse, once again we were trying to find a trail that the guy at the bike store had told us about and couldn't find it. In fact, a couple of times, the trail just ended. Just done. Gone. Awkward. So, by the time we found our way through a subdivision, a church parking lot, and someone's lawn, we found the store, racked our bikes, and headed home.

And I got a text from Ricardo, "Don't freak out, but I need to take Lucy to Urgent Care and get some stitches in her head."

JulzHOLLA!: Uh, why aren't you freaking out?
Me: Because he specifically said not to.
JulzHOLLA!: Well, call or something! Why are you so calm!?

So, I called, and they were at home eating lunch, but apparently Lucy had run into a corner of a wall at the gym. Interesting, because she was supposed to be sitting peacefully and playing her Nintendo. But whatever.

I guess Ricardo let them play in the gym, and they were sworn to not go onto the court. So, you can imagine Ricardo's surprise when Max waited patiently on the baseline of the court patiently yelling, "DADDDDDDD! DAAAAADDDDDDD! DAAAAADDDD!" Ricardo ran over and Max very calmly said, "Uh, Lucy's bleeding from her head." Game over. No tears, just a look of "This kind of hurts, and I'm in big trouble, aren't I?"

So, I met them at home, and we tried to figure out if we could get to Urgent Care, get stitches, and get to the play Velveteen Rabbit on time. It wasn't bleeding too badly, but it was a half inch cut on her forehead, and it was pretty deep. It almost looked like a hole.

I stayed calm, because she was calm. When the doctor saw her, he took one look at the cut and asked, "Did she lose consciousness? And did she hit a nail?" No, she didn't. But I guess from the looks of it, she hit the wall pretty hard. And it did look like she hit some kind of object like a nailhead. It was weird.

That girl never cried. She got 3 stitches, and I think the part that bothered her the most wasn't even the shot she got to get stitches. It was the actual sewing of her head part that she really gripped my hand for. She said it felt weird. Yes, it does hunny. We got that all done, and jumped in the car to go to the play. And she checked her stitches out in the mirror and SMILED with beaming pride with how cool they looked! SHE SMILED AT HER STITCHES!

On our way home from the play - yes we made it just in time - Max explained it was a brick wall that Lucy hit. She hit the corner of a BRICK on a brick wall! That explains the depth and shape of the cut. That is one tough chick.

The next day we went back to the gym, and they were happy to be checked into the kid care room.

That's how I roll.

I'm not sure really what exactly it is. Maybe I have a sarcastic smart ass tone. Nah, that can't be it. But every time I call my doctor, I get a response of tone back like, "We don't believe you." or "You're an asshole" type of response tone.

When we moved to Omaha, we apparently left the small town comfort of a good doctor and moved to the big city. Big City? You say. I didn't think so either, although it's double the size of Amarillo. The only big city adjustment I had to make was expectations of the damned doctor. When I called to get in, they basically acted like they were too busy, tried to talk me down with what to do at home instead of bringing them in.

Needless to say, through trial and error, I've been around town keeping mental report cards of doctors in town, who get big the big F. Like this guy - So, then I had this little incident. And while waiting in one doctors' office, I called Dr. B, crying, explaining my case and please could she get me in. Yes. Yes she could. We've been with her and her practice ever since.

Maybe I should cry when I call, because after several years of having the whole family with Dr. B, I got apparently a new girl on the phone. And perhaps it was my tone, again. But the inn was full, and we were just going to have to have Baby Jesus in a manger. OR, I called on Monday with a sick kid and couldn't get him in until Thursday. I thought that was odd, but Max's croupe seemed to be manageable, and I really just wanted to review all the croupe stuff and make sure we were doing it all right anyways. So, I kept the appointment.

And lo, my Dr. B got called out to deliver a baby. Uh, hello, didn't she know I was coming? She should have given that woman pitocin and gotten back to me. MEEEEEE. They got me in to see Man Dr. B. I'm cool with that because I've only seen two doctors when I've been there. I think they have 4 in their practice. But they each have laptops they bring in, and put all the info on a central system, so that it's consistent history.

But by the time I got to our appointment, Lucy was barfing. So, I say to the chick, "Lucy needs to be seen as well."
And you would have thought she was a walmart worker who didn't know where the damned switch to get a manager's approval was. "Well, we can't just add someone in. She doesn't have an appointment."

"Look, they are twins. We'll go in the same room, I'll pay BOTH co-pays. And I'm not leaving here until they are BOTH seen by a doctor."

Panic,pause and stare down.

And then I added, "And do you have a barf bucket for her, because she looks like she's about to blow again."

They both got in immediately. I grilled the doctor. And he gave me some tips that I'm sure most of you guys already know, but here's two I think will help.
1. Acute appointments - if you call after 3p, they have acute appointments reserved for sick people who need to be seen next day. If you call before 9, or right when they open, they can probably get you in that day on the same reserved acute appointments.
2. Ask to talk to a nurse. Those people who schedule the appointments are trained to make appointments and make insurance claims and co-pays. Not diagnose. So, when I kept saying, "It's croupe." I might as well have said "I have a big wedgie". If they say they can't get you in, ask to speak to a nurse. A nurse CAN diagnose, AND, override appointments and get you in.

Because when I told the doctor that I called with croupe on Monday and they didn't get me in until Thursday, he stopped and helped me with phone calling tips. He just stopped and talked to me and saved the day. Lucy, got checked out and has a virus.

Then he listened to Max's lungs and it turns out he has Pneumonia. It's not bad, he's okay. It's what the doctor described as, "Don't freak out, it's just a tinge, just what sounds to be the very beginning, pre, seriously don't freak out Pneumonia."

Then he said, "He's going to need a shot."

Finally, I had the opportunity to stick up for my kids on a medical stand off. "Dr. B, I promised this kid no shots. He will NOT have a shot today."

Must have scared the buhjeezers out of the doctor with my tone because he just said, "Ok, we can do a z-pack." I had to reassure Max four times that he was not getting a shot. Finally, he was so happy I'd told the doctor no and I was so proud of me.

My biggest problem (in this instance - there's others, I'm well aware) is I doubt myself because I don't know medical stuff. And when the kids get sick, it's few and far between now, so it catches me off guard. Still, I know my kids. Is it the doctor's fault that Max didn't get seen for 4 days when I called in citing croupe? Possibly. But I think I'll own up to this one. I really did say I wanted to talk to the doctor about managing it. The croupe lessened, but he still seemed sick. So, I missed it, not the doctor's office.

I gotta go. The Mother-Of-The-Year committee is calling to retract their recommendation. They say it's something about my tone...

That's how I roll.

I think next year, I'll just have to take a picture so I can scrapbook my scrapbook adventure.

Every year I go scrapbooking for an entire weekend of rustic luxury. We stay in cabins, and we bring snacks, and we have a chef who cooks for us. All of my non-scrapbooking friends are totally jealous. They laugh at me, but I know they are jealous. I just know it.

All these years, I've thought I was safe. But this time, some weird stuff happened. First of all, there were these weird guys on property for hours. We did what all moms do, we sent two moms out confronted them, while the rest of us waited back and if they weren't back in 5 minutes, we'd get help. So, the fellow scrapbooking moms found the weird guys still roaming around and asked if we could help them. And Darryll and his other brother Darryll just said, "We're looking for Mudfest...maybe that was for last year...we seen it at the internet." Gross. We told them we'd go call the authorities to help them find the Mudfest for them. They finally left.

Later, because we are such wild and crazy scrapbooking ladies, we stay up very late and have to go back to our cabins with flashlights. I think my incessant talking actually helped warn creatures we were there, because something snorted at us. It sounded like a growl meets a snore meets a heavy breather. Could have been Darryll or Darryll, I suppose.

That creeped me out, because it was no raccoon. It was bigger sounding. We hauled ass to our cabin, locked the door and went to sleep.

The next day, I asked our cook about it. I have assumed that there was someone in charge on the premises at all times for emergencies, but it turns out - there's not.

Cook: "We had a raccoon with rabies. We have a cat now."

Me: "Like, a house cat?"

Cook: "Oh, No, a big cat."

Me: "Isn't there someone that is in charge and stays on the premisise? Who do we call if we get eaten or abducted?"

Cook: "Oh, that's Tony. But he ain't nuthin. Just call 9-1-1."

Oh.

My.

God.

And I'll totally go back next year with my scrapbook mace, and a bow and arrow.
That's how I roll.

I'm a connisseur of cakes and this is one of my favorites. MMMMMmmmm.
There are so many reasons why I love Ricardo. Particularly when he really gets me. Last night, he got home from work, the kids were playing, I was mixing up a pineapple upside down cake. I really really love cake. Really. And while at the grocery store, I'd decided that for no darned good reason, cake was a good idea. And if I made pineapple upside down cake, it's totally justified because it doesn't have frosting, ANNNNND, it's a serving of fruit for crying out loud.

Lucy came in and asked to help. So, I told her my super duper secret for a great pineapple upside down cake, and then when she wasn't impressed by that, I let her do the brown sugar, pineapples, and her favorite part - the cherries.

So, Ricardo walks in to the kitchen, "Smells good in here!"

"Thanks, I probably shouldn't shop for groceries while hungry."

"What's for dinner?"

"Uh - I don't know. I just wanted cake."

Slight pause of questionable lack of responsibility as a mother, and then disregard that...

"That's cool."

God I love this man. I finished the cake and eventually made a very healthy dinner. And then we watched the Biggest Loser while eating cake.

That's how I roll.

Yeah, that's right, we're triathletes, and supermoms. Where's our effn ice cream!?

Somewhere in LeMars, Iowa is my swim cap. Although JulzHOLLA! prefers to call it a swim hat. I would go one step further and say it's a condom for your head, but whatever. I'd just gotten used to wearing one, and then I don't know if when you start getting nervous, your head swells or what. But it kept kinda shrinking up and sliding off my head, and there's 2 people to go before I get in the water. So, I did what every super duper athlete does - I totally bailed. On the swim hat. (We really like to call it a hat.) And I went all crazy with just my hair in a pony tail. I gotta tell you, I think I like it better. I think it's gonna be my signature move for future triathlons. Oh god, did she just say FUTURE TRIATHLONS? Oh yes she just did.

I was worried that I was going to smoke all these people and have to pass them in the pool. Because we did things a little bass-ackwards and signed up for the tri before we ever got in the pool to practice. When you sign up for the tri, they place you in your take off time based on what your estimated swim time will be. We guessed 10 minutes. But after practicing and timing ourselves, we're really swimming it in about 6 minutes. So, the rule at this tri was to grab the ankle of the person you're about to pass and then they have to stop swimming and literally pull over. I didn't want to make anyone do that.

Another thing about tris is how you meet so many nice people all, for so many different reasons, there to challenge themselves. This one girl was an avid cyclist, does adventure bike races. And she's petrified of the water, learned how to swim a few months ago. She went right before JulzHOLLA! and I. So, I was nervous that here I was going to have to pass this girl, stop her in the middle of her panic attack - woops, I mean swim, and regress her ass back into therapy right there in front of everyone in the middle of the pool. But I did it anyways. I lagged behind just a bit and when we got to the wall, I tapped her foot, and she let me push off first. She looked a little pieved, but I chalked it up to the fact that we were both huffing, and went on.

I jumped out of the pool and ran with a towel around me to the bikes. Because my tri-pants aren't in yet, and there's laws against that much pasty white dimples with a blinding glare.

The bike - how do I say this with just the right words? - Ah, yes, The bike HATES me. I cannot emphasize that enough. It was a 7.5 mile ride out, and then loop and back. It was described as a ride on "rolling hills" on farm roads. I'd describe it as "uphill both ways". But whatever. I just couldn't get the bike going. I was told to do your bike ride as easy as you can so you can save your legs for the run, but I had to just kick it in and let my thighs burn for well over an hour. Why wasn't this bike moving faster? That was mile 4. And then I looked up and that girl I passed in the pool was already coming back. What the hell? She was out and back in the time it took me to just get started. Everyone else passed me on the bike. EVERYONE. I knew it was my weakness, the bike, but it'd just upgraded to complete humility. I was afraid when I got off the bike I wouldn't be able to stand, let alone, transition or even run.

Finally, I got back. My knees locked and I had to walk in the bike. Which was fine,because there were my kids and Ricardo cheering me on. So, I took the time to just listen to them cheer me on. It makes all the difference to hear them at each transition, because I felt so so so lonely on that ride. I hope they know how much that encouragement helps. The triathlon took me almost two hours to complete. My transition times added up to roughly 3 minutes of that. It's all I needed to keep me going. I felt so defeated from that ride, and then so uplifted when I heard them.

I got off the bike and took off running. Well, I think I was running. I tried to just put one foot in front of the other. Somewhere in there, I caught up to JulzHOLLA!, we grabbed some water, talked about our feelings and I took off to run again. It was our plan when we were training: She'd pass me on the bike, I'd oblige on the run. We just have different paces, which brings us to the finish line at pretty close to the same time!

I feel like a big woop ass because I told the kids they couldn't run along side me. They could run on the sidewalk next to the street I was on, but not with me. I don't really know why, but I was worried I'd be breaking some rule, like Mother of the Year or something if I let them run with me - and I can't let that happen. Then JulzHOLLA! came around and I have the cutest effn scrapbookable (if only she scrapbooked) pictures of her running in while holding their hands. She had no doubt she'd let them do that. It was so sweet. I'm such an ass.

So, we both accomplished what we set our goal for: FINISH UPRIGHT (not on a stretcher) and we did it!

Ricardo was a champ and didn't hand me the kids as I crossed the finish line. He hugged me, got me to the ice cream for me - you betcha there was ice cream at the finish line! With one hand, I hold my ice cream. With the other, I hold myself up. I'm just sayin.

And then he went back and got all my transition stuff, knowing I couldn't bend over. Well, I could bend over, but probably just not get back up. Max stepped in and took my bike for me. We headed straight for the food and awards ceremony. And Ricardo made sure the kids were all taken care of while I ate the hell out of a burger.

Just one last thing - a much needed shower. So, Ricardo and Sven took the kids to eat lunch while JulzHOLLA! and I went back to the hotel to shower. Ricardo just asked that we not shower together. I simply explained I would pack up the hotel stuff while JulzHOLLA showered and we were now racing to get to BLUE BUNNY, so no worries, our priorities were in order. Once we got done and met back up with the crew, I thanked Ricardo for making it all possible to do this tri, and all the stuff that goes with it and then I announced that I now have my mommy pants back on. And I will re-commence supermommyness by serving up ice cream.

The kids didn't give a flip because we were at the ice cream place. I like their style.

We got home from our trip, and within hours, I could not feel my legs. And then I signed up for another sprint triathlon in three weeks in hopes that committing to another one would justify more accessories!

That's how I roll.

After the whole, "I found a new bike route" thing, JulzHOLLA! and I opted to go to a route that we knew existed. And then Sven found another, and she talked me into that one. Well, I guess we could risk yet another bike route hunt and if we couldn't find it, I ofcourse know of ice cream places in the area. After all, this route was on flat land. I'd been bitching and whining about the steep hills (there's probably only two, but whatever) at our regular route. So, we went. JulzHOLLA! is a powerhouse on the bike. So, I told her to just go ahead, and do her own pace, I'd eventually catch up. She mumbled something about how windy it was and then took off.

And I embarked on what was proven to be the longest effn ride of my effn life. It just felt like I could barely pedal. Tried to pass the old man with no shirt on. And then I barely passed a jogger. JulzHOLLA! Slowed down at some point and I thought we'd gone halfway and she was ready to turn around and go back, but she was just slowing down to get me in eyesight said wed gone 4 miles and I wanted to cry. What is going on? Maybe I'm tired from the practice tri we did the day before. Or maybe I'm a weaker cyclist than I thought. I kept trying to bump up the gears and go faster, but inevitably just kept going down to the easiest and then just focusing on how many grasshoppers I could hit.

Finally, I came around a corner and there was JulzHOLLA! waiting for me. Oh please tell me she's stopped so we can turn around and not just for pity, and that we have more to go. JulzHOLLA! - the bad ass cyclist - is so bad ass, she has all kinds of technology on her bike and so, she had some kind of computer that told us how far we'd gone, so she reported that it just took us 48 mins to go 7.5 miles. That's not great. She must have seen my lip quivering in humility and promised me that it was the wind, and the ride back should be better. It was. It took her 28 mins to come back, I was five minutes behind her.

JulzHOLLA! asked me on the way home what I think about. Well, for that ride, I thought about drinking again. And then I just tried to kill grasshoppers. Put them out of their misery. They are so mean in A BUGS LIFE. So mean! And then I thought about the fire burning in my quads and how it's got to be good for me, because fat doesn't burn like that, so that's good right? Still, I hate it and switch the gears down.

That's how I roll - against the wind.

These two ladies are about to rock out Blue Bunny Ice Cream, AND a Triathlon!

This whole triathlon gig has got me trying new things I never imagined - ever. Like uh, exercising outdoors. Turns out nature's kinda fun. Simply training for this has changed me. And all I'm doing is training to just FINISH the triathlon. That's all.

Typically I have been bored with swimming. But now I love the sound. Usually my workouts involve loud rap. I love it. And that's a reason I've never really swam, swum, swomm? I know you can get all that high falutent waterproof stuff for your tunes, but I don't trust myself. And I love my music too much to risk it all on a techno-rave swim.

And now I love the sound of swimming forcing me to just go - think of nothing and hear the swish of the water, the bubbles of my breath in pattern. Swimming forces you to breathe well. When running I am a fairly short breather. In yoga they keep reminding me but its usually too late. In swimming you don't really wanna be too late for that. I'm just sayin.

And never in a bazillion years would I have voluntarily gone outside to swim in 60 degree temps. I even have a rule for the kids that Mommy will take you to the pool, but I won't get in until the temp outside is over 90 degrees. I have my limits. Until now - and tell no one but - I kinda like it.

So, today, we are leaving to go to the triathlon. We've planned this for months. We committed to it to make ourselves get our butts to the gym to work out. And it worked. We've been working hard just to get to the gym. And it's been tough for me to make it a priority. Even moreso, for JulzHOLLA! I mean, the girl has been working around waking up 4 times a night, as well as coordinating workouts around nap times and lactationness. I cannot imagine and quite honestly, get caught up in my own little world and simply forget. Still, she's shown up every time. I love that we are meeting to workout more than meeting to go out to eat. And although we are different athletically, and she still has a functional uterus and all, we both love to eat and laugh. And we both need to do this for ourselves.

Tomorrow we're going in a pool outside at 62 degrees. And it's forecasted to rain the whole race. I'm actually looking forward to it. It's gonna be a great day. This really is the first physical challenge I've done since playing in college. I'm proud that I put this challenge on myself. I will be so proud to cross that finish line. And I will be equally proud to share this with JulzHOLLA! and our families. We've practiced the whole distance, we know we can do this.

That's how I roll.

I'm still trying to perfect birthday celebratoriness for the kids as mentioned here, here, and here. We started out having a massive party and merging family and day care/preschool/school friends. But they have the same bday and when they each get to invite pals - and momma invites all of her friends - 20 kids at a bday party is insane and starts scaring off the adults.

So then - last year we did the "let's just have a party at a place". No bbq. It was a great party but I guess I missed the insanity of hosting at home and so this year I insisted we have a smaller bbq- insisting that it's so not a party- and we opted to let the kids choose what they want to do for their bday. Ultimately your kids bday is a bigger celebration for you than them. And I like having a celebration at home. I missed that.

So, for this year, we decided to allow the kids to pick what they wanted to do, and let them have a separate this is my own birthday celebration type of a deal, and then have the bbq. They chose to each invite a friend from school over for a sleepover. Why not "let's do what you want AND what I want"?! Why? Because a slumber party followed by a bbq equals no sleep for the kids. And sleep and food are the end all and be all of a smooth running machine at my house.

The morning of their birthday was like Christmas, they got up early -6a.m. to open presents. That's early for us because I just trained these suckers to sleep in to a respectable 7:30a.m. They went to school and then had their friends come over. Max and his pal went to a game place with go-karts and amazing pizza if you know what I mean. I took Lucy and her friend to a kids salon where they got little manis, pedis, a chocolate face masque and a hair updo with glitter, y'all.

Then the kids stayed up too late at their sleepover, we knew they'd need some downtime the next day to rest up. But they were both so tired, we demanded a nap. Max was crying over everything. INCLUDING crying over whether he was tired or not. Really? So, I sent them upstairs to take a nap. A full on nap. They asked how long did they have to stay in their rooms, and I just told them after they slept. Not laid there, read a book. None of theat. A nap. Go up to your room. Lay down. Close your eyes. Keep them closed until you fall asleep. An hour after they went to sleep, Max came out crying with something like this,
"I can't sleep and I'm not tired, Mom. I'm just not. I'm just not tired. Whaaaahaaaa."

Oh God. This is going to be bad. So, I asked his favorite person in all the land, Ricardo, to take a nap with him. The look on Ricardo's face when I ASKED him to stop cleaning and getting the house ready for the party and go take a nap was priceless.

But we all know how tough it is to catch up on sleep. So, after the bbq, we sent the kids to bed at their school bedtime. They both took their DS games with them. I probably shouldn't have allowed that, because at 10p.m. - wayyyyy after their bedtime - I was going to get ready for bed myself, and Max met me at the top of the stairs. I thought to yell at him, after all, the birthdayness was over, and he needs to know I'm mean business. But He had his DS in his hand, his face was red and tears were welling up in his giant blue eyes. So, in my really sweet and compassionate voice, I said,

"Max, what's wrong?"

"I don't want my ds anymore."

"WTF?" I thought - I didn't say it. Geesh.

"This game is too hard, and I can't do it. I JUST CAN'T DO IT! And I keep trying to go to the next level and they tell me I'm a FAILURE! A FAILURE! And that's not nice! That is just so mean to tell someone they are a FAILURE! That's not a fun game at all!"

Poor guy. I removed his grip from the DS, took it away, laid it on the floor in the hallway and walked him back to his room. I got him in bed and reassured him that indeed, that was not nice at all to call him a failure. And he doesn't have to play that game if he doesn't want to.

So, I think I've almost got this perfected. I will need to either separate weekends for their celebrations and mine. Or, strategically plan the bbq before the sleepover so that if the kids are worn out, it might suggest those suckers pass out and go to sleep at their sleepover. Clearly I'm a slow learner, it's taken me seven years to figure this all out.

These kids are so fantastic and I am so proud of them and the mom they've made me into. Their birthday really is a celebration for me!

That's how I roll.

Give me an hour and shower and it really makes this big of a difference.

So, the other night, at that ballet class, one of the moms was all, "Where do I know you from."

I get that a lot, from my pro-comedy tour and/or my modeling days. OR, I'm just really tall, and loud, and people remember rolling their eyes at me at some point in their life. None the less, the two places you'll find me at are my gym or the school just about every day.

So, I suggest to the nice lady that she's seen me at either place. Nope. Hmmm, maybe she reads the blog? I didn't have the arrogance to ask. But if she did, that would be so cool. I'd be like an Omaha celebrity or something.

We couldn't figure out where she knew me from, and then class was over and we went on our merry ways.

The next day, I went to work out. And then my day was hectic and I needed to go by the grocery store, the good one, not WalMart. Typically, when I go to the grocery store, or play the consumer role at all, I shower, brush my hair and put make up on. You are welcome Omaha.

Because I really do look like two different people:

1. The fairly "it'll do" look if I have make up on. Not too shabby. Not a supermodel, but I don't scare children either.

2. And without make up on, "Meth head, but with all of my teeth" type of look.

I've said this all along, and my friends and Ricardo simply oblige with a pathetic octave-raising, "No you don't! You look great without make up on!" And then a mumbled, "Bless your heart."

But this day, I had on my workout clothes, my hair up in horns on top of my head with a headband on, and no make-up, including blemishes and dark circles under my eyes. I resolved that I don't sweat much, even when working out, and didn't stink - because I soooooo checked. And I'd just brushed my teeth, so, hygenically speaking, I was okay.
And if not, maybe the store employees would take pity on me and help me out, maybe a free case of coffee or something. There's always that. Right?

I only need a few items anyways, this will be quick. I round the corner in the health food area, and who do I see, but that lady from ballet who couldn't place where she's seen me before. OFCOURSE! The grocery store! My other daily hang out. Seriously y'all, I'd rather walk aimlessly through the aisles of a grocery store than the mall any day. And I'm okay with that.

So, I start laughing, and say hello, extend my hand out. She shakes it, and I say,
"Well, now you know where you know me from."
Long pause and look of confusion from the lady.
"Uh, I'm Leslie, I just met you last night. Our daughters are in ballet together. You said you knew me from somewhere..."
Still shock, possibly horror on this woman's face, mostly confusion.
"I just got done working out and look nothing like I do with make up and real clothes on."
More pause. Understanding and relief that I'm not the meth head she thought I was.
Finally, a light goes off and she says, "OH hi! Wow, no, you don't look like the same person at all!"

I'll take that as a compliment that I'm a wizard with the ol makeup brush.

That's how I roll, freaking out one grocery shopping mom at a time.

Lucy had her first ballet class tonight. I dragged the entire family to her debut as a ballerina. As expected, she was the tallest in her class. I wish she was in a sport where her height would be an advantage. But momma's trying out therapeutic baby steps of not being so controlling and so, Lucy picked ballet. Still, I think her extensions and plies and all that are gonna be beautiful with all that height anyways.

I'm a little concerned I'm a bad dance mom. What!? Shocking, I know. I watched endless girls walk around with what THEY call booty shorts. I call them underwear. And they call them dance tops, I call them bikini tops. Most of the girls were older, wearing make up.

Until three of these older girls came up to a girl in Lucy's seven-year-old class and said to the poor girl, seriously y'all, right out of Heathers:
"Oh mah gaw Julie, you're go to this dance studio? I totally didn't know that. You're in this regular class? WE are in the COMPANY." The COMPANY is the select sport version of dance, I guess.

It turns out the booty-pants-wearing-Heathers were in Julie's school class. Which means the booty-pants-bikini-top-and-make-up-wearing Heathers were also seven-years-old. Gross.

Another girl walked by with her booty pants pulled up a little too high, making a giant beginning to booty thongs. Eww. I don't think I can take it.

Then I met some of the moms. You know, the really excited and exciteable ones right out of the gate. And they were nice enough. Actually I know one of them, and she rocks. I'm so glad I get to see her once a week.

However, there was this one. She was tall and chatty. The nerve of this woman to be tall and chatty. And her daughter is so tall, that she puts her up in age groups so she's not a head taller than everyone else, because that is so embarassing. Her daughter is five. FIVE-years-old. I suppose it's okay, for now. But from one tall girl to another, about our tall daughters, eventually she's going to not be able to go up in age groups. She'll be a head taller than them as well. I'm just sayin.

The "tall" mom (I was her height back in junior high, but whatever) takes a breath, and asks me which one is my daughter. I couldn't resist,
"The one that's a head taller than everyone else."

That's how I roll.

Maybe next time, we'll take a map like this with us...
We were told to go to this road to train for the bike leg of the tri. When I got in the car, I told JulzHOLLA! "I stopped listening to the directions when she said something about a gravel road and the highway. So, I hope you were listening."

And JulzHOLLA! said, "Oh yeah, I remember."

Uh-huh.

It was win-win for me. If she did remember, it was sure to be a flatter ride than the current route we have. And if she didn't, well, I was tired from swimming that morning - outside, in 60 degree temps. I'd already accomplished a serious adventure in the "Things I said I'd never ever do" department, and so, I would be okay if I didn't get my bike ride in. I'm just sayin.

We drove out to some desolate place. We were supposed to go out past 204th on Q street. We did. And then we just kept going and going and going. We MIGHT have been distracted by talking about our feelings and then laughing hysterically at them, but whatever. JulzHOLLA! is that girlfriend that I can talk to six times a day and still think of things to tell her or ask her later.

The sun is now starting to go down. We have no clue where we are, and there's no shoulder to ride a bike on that I can see. But there's lots of corn fields. Dear God, is that a sulfur mine? Where the hell are we?

Woopsie, the gas light just came on. And we'd been too busy chatting and laughing to see how far we'd gone out on Q street to know if we should turn around or keep going. We resolved that we had our bikes if we ran out of gas, so that's good right?

Did you know that if you go far enough west on Q street in Omaha, that you'll eventually run into West Center Road? Me either. But we did, and lo, a gas station. JulzHOLLLA! got out to get gas and I reached for my Blackberry to take note of this fantastic adventure that was now necessitating I journal either for the blog, or in case we turn up missing. Either way, journaling, yet again proves to be a necessity.

That's when JulzHOLLA! Get's in the car and says, "What are you doing?"

"Uh, blogging. As a responsible writer, I don't want to lose this moment."

"Okay, but that lady forgot to put her teeth in before she left the house."

"It's getting dark, I don't think we can ride now."

"Yeah, but let's go check out that other bike route you were just talking about and then I think right after that is TCBY."

I really think she is my soul mate at this point.

So, we found a different bike route and resolved to go do that one some other day. Then we sported our spandex at TCBY. Hey, if you do it right, eating is a workout. I'm just sayin.

When we got back to my place, because our husbands insist we live separate from each other. Whatever. But when we got back, Ricardo knew instantaneously that we'd been up to something. Had we pulled over and made out in the back of the minivan, he'd have been completely fine with that. But since we'd gone to get ice cream and not brought him some back, he was shocked and betrayed. And then he just started talking about how someone needed to go get him some Nutter Butters to make it right. I laughed and blew it off.

But 5 minutes after JulzHOLLA! left to go home, she called and simply said,
"Tell Ricardo to meet me out in the driveway."

That fantastic human being had gone to the store and got my man Nutter Butters. And now, he too loves her a little bit more now.

I think we've learned our lesson here: in the midst of crisis, eventually, sweets will fix everything. It wasn't the end to a perfect day, but it was definitely a perfect ending to the day.

That's how I roll.