It’s always something

So, my opening day has come and gone. And huge sigh of relief - I currently have fifty more people registered than I did at this time last year, which is tremendous. It either means: this year will be even bigger than last year, or that everyone figured out how to get in on the cheap prices and now nobody else is coming. Personally...my prediction is we’ll fall somewhere in between. I don’t know if the event will be bigger but I think it’s fairly unlikely that I’ll lose people. New kitchen, here we come...?

Opening night was not without its stressors, however. A few hours before registration went live a customer told me my website was down. After a lengthy panicked search (remember, there’s no “IT guy” - I’m it) and phonecall to my domain host, I managed to see some tiny print on my web host’s site casually mentioning that they had changed their DNS settings. And didn’t bother to notify anyone. WTF? And on the day I open registration. So the kind GoDaddy guy helped me update everything and voilà, website back. Then I just had to email everyone back that had notified me my website wasn’t loading. Fucking hell.

Then as registration started rolling, the admin guy (in Texas) and I noticed some registrations were coming up as “completed” but with $0 as the amount paid. So we emailed those people and freaked them out...when it turned out someone else had paid for them. So that was another series of corrective emails. Sigh.

I was getting a huge kick out of checking my Stripe balance and wondering how soon the money would be in my bank account where I can use it - this new reg system requires I break with my old standby PayPal and use Stripe instead - until the next day I got an email from Stripe saying, “hey, it looks like you’re running an event, which we consider high risk, so we’re going to withhold funds until you answer this lengthy questionnaire and forward us copies of all your contracts.” Oh, and also they may decide to hold back a portion of the funds to minimize their risk. Um...what? How about give me my fucking money. So, I spent that entire night answering their questions and collecting the information they wanted. I won’t freak out until they get back to me - it might be some kind of formality and then I’ll get my money. But it’s ridiculous - and extremely stressful as my bank account is currently at 0 and I need that money pronto. I mean, seriously, wtf? And the worst part is, I can threaten to take my business elsewhere, but the reality remains that I can’t because my system only accepts Stripe, and they still have my money and I don’t. Ugh.

So, I managed to change the nightmare of last year’s massive feeding frenzy and hours of damage control and bad feeling by not doing tiered pricing, and the customers are all happy, which is great. But then there’s this other stuff. It’s always something!!

Anticipation

Two more nights until opening night. I’m pretty nervous, even though I know I shouldn’t be. I guess I’m having my usual pre-event “nobody’s going to show up this year!” freak out. It’ll pass. Somebody will show up. Right??

Friday night the kids and I went to an “Astronomy Night” at B’s school. What I was picturing was a group of kids sitting nicely while someone in charge gave a lecture on astronomy and let the kids look through telescopes. What actually happened was a large group of screaming kids clambering around playground equipment in the pitch black night while socially awkward older men from the Astronomy Society tried to prevent small children from getting nose prints and peanut butter fingers on their expensive lenses. It was so exhausting managing the boys’ intense energy and chasing them around in the dark that by the time I got home and wrestled everyone into pajamas I wanted to collapse. Ah, parenting.

Earlier that day was Bobby’s first time with the after school chess club. For this I had to pick him up after school and walk him to the lunch area to meet with the group. As soon as he saw the group, which mostly consisted of much older kids, he started crying and saying he didn’t want to go. As with all parents in moments like this, I started my usual routine of begging, coddling, threatening and guilt tripping to get him to relent and go to the club. In the end, what worked? The promise of a blue frosting-covered donut afterwards. Ha ha ha! He is his mother’s son. Sure enough, when I picked him up an hour later he was totally into it and can’t wait to go back. I delivered the blue donut. We were both happy.

How do we raise violin-playing, chess-playing children in this day and age when everything is iPads and video games? Am I just a dinosaur that has pseudo-intellectual fantasies of raising pretentious Luddite children? Am I handicapping them by not allowing them to be constantly inundated by technology, like everyone else? Am I trying to teach them skills that don’t even matter anymore in this digital age? I feel like I want to protect their innocence; but what’s most likely really going on there is a projection of my own childhood obsession with being innocent and aloof (the roots of which would fill a novel). Oh, how these children suffer for our own emotional issues, don’t they? All they want is to play MineCraft, for fuck’s sake. 

March on!

I marched on Saturday. It was a really good experience - the organizers really had their act together this year; lots of extra staff in the subways, lots of toilets. I thought for sure there’d be way less people and the right wingers would have a good laugh at our expense - I was kind of obsessed with this fear, actually, as in the days leading up to the march it seemed like all of my friends one by one decided they were going to skip it this year. However, the march ended up being huge and very inspiring. I decided to wear a witch hat and cape in homage to the feminists of the 70s who would dress as witches during demonstrations. I had such a blast wearing it and got such good feedback that I decided my new women’s march persona is going to be Resistance Witch.

I’m oddly hopeful about our future - the blue wave coming in November, not to mention the countless pissed-off women who’ve been inspired to run for office. Once this whole Drumpf nightmare is over, is it possible we’ll actually be better off than we would have been? Anger can be a spectacular motivator.

The boys are doing well - I’ve planned their joint birthday at a bounce house/trampoline place where we attended a birthday party a few months ago. I feel like at 6 Bobby has outgrown the little kid playplace we’ve been using, and since I’ll be inviting all of his kindergarten class, I need to be prepared for any number of kids. Luckily this year Bobby’s birthday falls on a Saturday (March 24) so we’ll have it then. 

In three weeks we go join two other couples and six more kids at a cabin in the mountains. It’s been such a dry year that I’m worried there won’t be any snow, but I’m sure it’ll be a crazy good time. I’m also trying to plot out a family trip to Hawaii this summer, using the free flights we got from delays last summer. It will be the first time traveling with two kids since that disastrous trip when Theo was a baby. I can only hope travel with a six-year-old and four-year-old (not to mention another adult) will be dramatically different. 

But everything depends on how my event goes this year. I open for registration in just a week. My money has nearly run out. This year is a total wild card - the year after a big anniversary year; who the hell knows? I estimate I’ll lose 200-300 people to be back where I was the year before; but I could lose more, or I could keep my numbers up, which would be amazing. No plans can be made until after the 1st. 

I so hope I have a good opening night. Resistance Witch has bills to pay!

Edit: was able to add a picture!

Resolutions and such

It’s a new year. I’m pretty heartened to see the general attitude on Facebook about it is “let’s grab this year by the balls!” instead of last year’s fear and defeatism. Hey, we survived a whole year with an incompetent lunatic in the White House. I’m furious he’s still there - but we’re still alive and functioning. That’s something, right? And it’s all about those mid-terms. I can’t frigging WAIT for November.

As usual I’ve assembled myself a list of resolutions. I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep any of them. I’m still in Little Kid Mode - I’m still responsible for the every need of three people (sometimes four). It’s a lot, and I am always exhausted, no matter how much time off or rest I get. I figure this will continue at least until Theo is in kindergarten, which is still almost two years away. So just surviving the year is my number one resolution.

Secondary is learning piano (I have a cheap intro lesson with B’s violin teacher next Saturday) and resuming yoga finally (tentative plans to check out a local studio on Tuesday). I would also like to not buy any new clothes for myself for an entire year (except underwear and socks), sticking with second-hand clothes only. Being a seasoned vintage clothes shopper, this should not be an issue. But there is some comfort in just waltzing into a Target or an Old Navy and pulling things your size off the rack and getting in and out fast. Vintage clothes (even modern vintage) takes a lot more digging and time (and creativity). But somehow I got the bug up my butt that I really don’t want to contribute to the fast fashion industry anymore, so I’d like to at least try that. 

I would also like to take off the 5-7 pounds I packed on since the summer. I know this is laughable to some, and I’m pretty annoyed with myself that I even care about such a paltry amount of weight. But I know that not caring is exactly how you wake up and find yourself 20, 30, 40 lbs overweight one day and wonder how it happened. Being vigilant is how you stay slim. But oh, it’s so exhausting, and hard, and it’s so tempting to just say “fuck it” and let yourself slip into middle aged spread. To say I have a complicated relationship with weight at this stage in my life would be an understatement. 

What I would like for my life this year is this: try to get through the final full year of schlepping Theo between preschools and lots of childcare time with some grace; continue to have thriving, healthy kids; continue to be in a loving relationship; have another successful event that benefits from the many changes I’m making this year and makes enough to renovate my kitchen; continue to work on my mental health and not let intrusive thoughts ruin my serenity; be able to have those rare, elusive moments of just sitting in the moment and feeling grateful and proud of all I’ve accomplished. 

But mostly, be kind to myself. I do a lot, and I’m not perfect, and striving for perfection is a fool’s game. People always say, “everyone does the best they can,” but that’s total bullshit. I don’t always do the best I can; I assume this is true for everyone else, too. Sometimes you fuck up and you know you’re fucking up and you just don’t care. Welcome to being human. I know 2018 will have many of those moments of not being my best. Let’s hope I can have the grace to shrug my shoulders, chuckle to myself, and try to do better tomorrow (maybe). 

Mess Mahs

The final act in the holiday triptych is over. Like many families this year, we passed it all at various stages of illness - Bobby at the tail end, me right in the middle, and Theo just starting. Symptoms included fever, listlessness, aches, fatigue, runny nose, coughing. Bobby missed half his winter camp, Theo had to be retrieved from school early, and countless plans/projects had to be abandoned so I could malinger in bed. 

I did, however, rally just enough on Christmas Eve to create this, baked from scratch: 

The idea had been for the boys to join me in this venture, but the BF took them out to get them out of my hair and kept them out so long I ended up just doing it all myself. Honestly, after feeling like death warmed over while caring for sick, bored kids all week, an afternoon of an absorbing project while listening to true crime podcasts was just what the doctor ordered. 

Christmas was fine - a pleasant day at home with no visiting, traveling, cooking or entertaining. The boys were delighted with all their gifts, even the dumb ones. I’m dreading the day they start being bratty about getting things they don’t want. In anticipation of this, I drafted this list of Christmas Rules: 

The next day we went “sand sledding” at Venice beach. A Southern California tradition I was unaware of, apparently every winter vast sand dunes are created as storm breaks along various beaches, and kids sled down them. I had bought the kids saucers for an upcoming trip to the mountains, so we used those. Honestly, it didn’t work out so hot - we should have brought boogie boards - but it was a gorgeous day and we all had a nice day at the beach. 

Today I went to the funeral of an old dance friend - a woman just a few years older than me with a young son who died of an aneurysm when I was in Italy. She was the ex-girlfriend and dance partner of one of the guys I kicked out of my Hall of Fame a year ago. I had a lot of trepidation going there today - and the guy did not disappoint, making a dig at my event in his eulogy and being pretty foul to everyone who dared approach him (not me - I stayed a mile away at all times). It was just terrible watching her young son touch her casket for the last time. Like all mothers, my biggest fear in life is leaving my sons motherless. I know that I am their whole world, and that they are whole and happy and safe because I am here. It’s a huge weight, existing for the well being of little people. And not one I take lightly.

Winter break

Bobby woke up today complaining of an upset stomach, and I thought “oh boy, here we go...” I gave him a hug, set him in front of the TV with a bucket, and waited. 

Eventually I had to go do the complicated switch over of the loaner car, trade out car seats, get my car back, which took half the day - luckily my sitter had the day free so she came to watch the boys while I did all this. 

We had an odd afternoon of bad TV and applesauce. Bobby never threw up but felt pretty hot (much to my annoyance I couldn’t get either digital thermometer to work properly) so I put him to bed shortly followed by his extremely bored younger brother. Now comes that experience every parent knows - going to bed yourself wondering if you’ll be woken up by screaming, vomiting children, or worse - very ill, feverish children that need to be rushed to an ER. Fingers crossed whatever this thing is will pass. I don’t know if he’ll be well enough to go on his winter camp field trip ice skating tomorrow - I guess we’ll find out in the morning! 

Yesterday I renewed my membership on the donor sibling registry, and signed up for a lifetime membership and added Theo’s information, too. Unfortunately in the years since I first listed Bobby on there there has been no activity except the one I already knew about - a woman who had reached out to me looking for vials for a sibling (I had already turned mine back in to the sperm bank). The birthday of her boy is on there, though - born exactly one day (!) before Bobby’s birthday but two years after (so ten days after Theo). Their location is listed as NY. It’s unlikely we’ll ever have any contact with this phantom brother. Which is too bad. I wish we could all just exchange pictures or something. I’m dying of curiosity to know what all these other kids at least look like (I say “all” because since the donor retired it means he met his maximum births - which I believe is something like 20 families. So there may be a lot of little musical redheads with sacral dimples out there). 

Ciao

Returned from Parma. My first trip to the Motherland (I am Italian tangentially through my Brazilian born father) went well. It was everything I had hoped - cobble stone streets, great food, musical language. I wouldn’t advise visiting Europe in December when you’re not used to cold - we froze our asses off - but hey, free trip. 

One thing strikes me every time I go to Europe (aka The Old Country). As much as I love the history and beauty of the place...I can see how for some people the weight, the responsibility of all that history and culture can be a bit stifling. It must be hard to break away and pave your own way in places like that. I even felt that way in New York - coming out West was a revelation; “nobody knows me here and I can do anything I want!” It’s immensely freeing. 

I returned to a real steam roller of a week. It will all be over by Sunday, but oy. Christmas shows, tons of candy making, tons of work, dropping off the new car for a moon roof installation and driving a quirky loaner, dealing with the aftermath of the house rewiring in which tons of things have to be fixed/tweaked/cleaned up after, all while juggling kids (and today my period), has been not fun. I haven’t even caught my breath. But luckily Bobby is off school after tomorrow, which means a couple of great things - we can all sleep 1-2 more hours each morning, we don’t need to rush around, and no homework. Once the multitudinous gifts have been made and distributed (Bobby’s class and teachers, Theo’s class and teachers, the band members, my friends, movie and book club people, the afterschool program, Theo’s morning school, my babysitter and cleaning lady and violin teacher, etc etc), which they mostly will by the weekend, I can finally breathe. 

It’s funny how things switch. I used to live in dread of time off school - now it’s the opposite, since it means being able to sleep in (kinda). And a five year old being off school is no big deal - Bobby is an absolute delight on his own; I actually look forward to spending time with him. Theo at three is still tough - and we have a LONG three weeks with no morning preschool. But I’m confident if we get up a little later it won’t be so bad. Bobby is at winter camp two, possibly three of the weeks. I look forward to focusing on some house projects and just relaxing after this. Could it be “vacation” actually means vacation once your kids are school aged???

In other news, I flipped the solar switch yesterday. Goodbye, cruel grid!