The Trials of a Busy Mom

Category: whining and complaining (Page 9 of 12)

Uncle! I give up! I surrender! Just make it stop!

At last writing four out of the seven of us had been captured by the plague of the stomach flu, the bohemians of barf, the hellions of hurl, the pirates of the potty, the….the… Get the picture?

WARNING–this post is not for the weak of stomach. Maranda, I mean you. Just close the page and click away now.

My 14 year old son has been moaning and complaining about a headache since our hour stint at church, and he also said he was starving, but couldn’t eat anything. What? Well, I’m sick of your whining boy, so get up and eat something. I had made grilled cheese sandwiches and chicken soup for the rest of the crew, some of whom are starting to feel better and had been pleading for grilled cheese. So, I helped him up to the counter and served him some food.
“But what if I throw up?” he said in his saddest, most pitiful weak voice.
Full of compassion, I plopped a garbage can in front of him on the counter, and said, “Here you go. Throw up in that.” Because really, did I mention that I’m not feeling all that great, either? I’ve got a husband with the runs who’s upstairs napping, three kids who either are currently or have been throwing up in the last 24 hours, and a disaster of a house. There’s one load of barf laundry in the wash, another post washed barf load in the dryer, and then there’s the laundry pile up from yesterday that I didn’t get to. I’m kind of at the end of my rope here, kids, and I’m TRYING to take care of you, but you’ve got to help me out just a little bit.

So, my dear son takes one bite of soup and I hear that sound. THAT SOUND that is immediately followed by THAT SMELL! Now he’s throwing up, too. I wait until he’s done, take that garbage can and dump it out, then rinse it out, all the while thanking my lucky stars that I’m not a nurse. And wishing that I wouldn’t have to be a nurse for very much longer.

So, that’s five out of seven of us. Only Megan and I remain in the no barfs club.

When I’ve reached the end of my sanity and can’t stand to hear the droning of the television, I send the healthiest of the bunch outside with some bubbles. Go blow some bubbles. Or spill it all over yourselves. Just go outside for five minutes. Please.

A few minutes later my little boy walked by and smelled bad. “Do you need to use the potty?” I ask suspiciously.
“No,” he said, “I pooped.”

You know that movie where the lady’s head spins all the way around? Some horror flick that I’ve obviously never seen because those things scare the bejeebers out of me, but I’ve seen the references. Anyway, I must have looked something like that as I asked him WHY he would poop in his pants. AAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGG!!! And just in case you were wondering, No, it wasn’t normal poop. It was runny poop.

So. I give up. I surrender. You win, virus from hell! You win! You are stronger than we are! We give up! Now just please GO AWAY!!

Thank you, Father, for the gentle reminder

I got into the car and chewed out my daughter. My daughter who had yelled at me when I told her we would be late for HER practice. When I got into the car, I gave her a nice talking to about how she WILL respect me or I will NOT be taking her to her practices, buying her school stuff, and bringing her lunches when she forgets. I am not her maid, her chauffeur, her cook, and I am most definitely not her servant, and she will not treat me as such.

“Understood?” I glowered.

“yes,” she said.

As we rode along in silence, I turned on the radio. And who should I hear, but Whitney in all her 80’s glory singing….

Ok. I can take a hint. Thank you.

Some days just stink

This morning I awoke to a stinky house. Yuck. There was something in the kitchen or mudroom that was rank, and I couldn’t find it.

I started with the obvious–the dishtowels. I figured one of them must be midewy, and tossed them into the wash.

Maybe it’s the trash. We emptied that to no avail.

I then explored the possibilities that someone had left a wet sock or other article of clothing in with the shoes and that had started the funky smell. I found lots of abandoned socks and things, but none of them seemed to be the originator of the smell. Off to the laundry room they went, too.

Hmmm, a bag of potatoes? Those have ommitted some yucky smells in the past. Out into the garage they went.

I enlisted the kids to use their smellers and help me find the yucky smell. My nine year old daughter, who was laying on the couch, said, “I don’t smell anything!”
“Get up and help me anyway,” I grouched at her, “If I don’t get rid of this smell, my head is going to explode, and you will NOT like cleaning that up, I tell you.”

My four year old was certain that a half full squirt gun was the epicenter of the smell. I took a whiff and couldn’t really smell anything there, but threw it in the trash just to be sure.

I called my sister to discuss some vericose vein issues that are plaguing me (they also plague her) and I mentioned to her that I was trying to root out the stink, and she said, “If I were there, I’m sure I could uncover your stink in a second. I have my bionic pregnancy nose, you know.” Yes, I know. But she does not live close. And I can’t think of anyone in my neighborhood or friends of mine who were pregnant, either. Besides, that’s not really the kind of thing you call up a pregnant friend and say, “hey, I’ve got a really rank smell in my kitchen. Can you help me figure out what it is?” That’s not a really nice thing to ask of them, is it?

Eventually, after cleaning and throwing out and washing, the stench seemed to be gone. Almost. I still don’t know the cause of the smell, or if it’s going to be back tomorrow, but I don’t feel like I need to move out of my home because of the noxious smell. Not yet, at least.

Later I realized that, I could plug in a nice smelly thing! I have a husband, who, although he’s no help in rooting out the undesirable smell, if I happen to use a flowery lotion or stick in a plug in air freshener, he’ll notice that right away. And he’ll be sure to comment about how his nose is stuffing up after about 3 seconds, and he’ll bellyache and complain about it for quite some time. I’ve had to give away several lovely smelling lotions and soaps because they were ‘offensive’ to his sensitive nose. But he had left me this week. I’m a single mom while he goes galivanting around the world, so I deserve a nice smelling house, doggone-it.

I found an unused plug in from Bath and Body works, and plugged it in in the family room. Hooray! I’ll have something nice and pretty to smell after this whole day of nasal offenses. After about 1/2 an hour, it was too strong. That nice citrus/flower smell was just too overpowering. I need an on/off toggle for my air freshener. Oh, well. I unplugged it and now it’s sitting on the counter. I’ll plug it back in tomorrow. When HOPEFULLY I won’t be covering up the rank smell again, just adding a fresh nice smell to the air. Because some days just stink.

Temporary beef induced insanity

“Why do we always have to park next to the smiling girls?” John asked today.

“Maybe because you are so cute,” I said.

“No, I’m NOT cute!”

Allright. You’re not.

Today, in an effort to “get out of the house for heaven’s sake before I throw you out” yet not spend a lot of money, I took the kids to the library and out to lunch. The library was fun, although we still cannot find that one darn video. No more videos or DVD’s, kids. I MEAN it.

After the library, I scoured the Happenings Book and came up with a plan. We’d drive Burger King and get a buy one get one free burger, then we’d go to A&W and get a free burger and drink when we buy a burger and drink. A good plan, in theory. At Burger King, I ordered two of the hamburgers listed on the coupon, and they told me they don’t carry those burgers anymore. Oh. I asked if they would still honor the coupon on another burger, and she said yes, on the steakhouse burger. Um, ok. Two of those should be fine. When I went to pay, it was $5.15 for the burgers. Was that with the coupon? Yes. Uh-oh, who pays $5 for a burger? Whatever.

So, then we go to A&W and go in. We’re a little bit more successful there, although my two “Plain” cheeseburgers looked surprisingly like regular cheeseburgers with lettuce, mustard and tomatos. Does that say plain to you? No, they had to go back and I had to wait for them. I’m glad I decided that two of us could each share those monster Steakhouse burgers, because they are HUGE. HUGE. And As I was splitting them and giving them to the two girls who actually like flavor, and I see, what’s that? Onion ring crumbs? On the hamburger? Who does that? I had to tell them to just scrape those off, and ripped those off. Megan and Natalie each had a half, but no one else wanted any of THAT kind of burger. Cole and Jenna at the plain 1/4 pound cheeseburgers, and John just wanted fries. They shared the two rootbeers and the two large fries I got, and I was left with a whole big huge burger for myself.

Ugh. I should NEVER have eaten that whole thing. It’s like telling my body, “you know those 2 and a half miles you walked this morning? Just ignore that because I’m going to stuff down this entire burger which must have at least 4000 calories.” Burp. I have to kind of agree with this review here.

At least the kids had enough to eat, and I did share a few bites of my burger with Natalie, after I scraped all the offensive parts off. Burp. Oh, excuse me!

Then, since we were out, we decided to go and wash the car at my favorite place, although it’s kind of counter productive to try and vacuum a vehicle while the 5 kids and their library books are still in it. They sat in the car and read their books while Megan and I tried to vacuum around them. Well, we tried.

And if that weren’t enough, we decided to stop at Target. Because we just haven’t had enough together time. And I kind of needed straws (which I couldn’t find), shoes for Megan, and birthday presents for both John’s friend and Megan’s friend. Now, when a mom pulls into a Target on a hot summer day and she and five of her kids pile out of the car, it’s like she’s wearing a sign on her back that says, “Go ahead–Shoot me now and put me out of my misery”. Because at least then the torture would be done. Instead I dragged them around the store making them try on shoes (oh, the torture!), while NOT buying John every single pair of shoes he wanted, and also none for you, Natalie, you little shoe hog.

After the shoes, I should have just left the store with my passel of whiners. But no, I’m stupid that way, so we proceeded to…. are you ready for this?….the toys. Yep. What was I thinking? You NEVER go through the toy department with children! NEVER!! You let them think that all toys come from the North Pole and they will only receive toys at Christmas time or their birthdays! But we’ve got these birthday parties coming up, and I must have been temporarily out of my mind from the large amounts of beef and crispy onion thingies I consumed earlier, and I trudged forward.

I won’t go into all the details, but we’ll just all agree that it wasn’t
a-pretty
b-productive
c-short enough

And whatever the heck we picked up for those birthdays will just have to do (silly string and poppers and a “It’s my birthday” badge for a 12 year old girl? Come on.)

Then we came home and I took a small nap.

Snot

Snot, sneezing and yelling. That would be the title of the past week for me. Really. After reading about my sister’s horrible day and trying to deal with all that with a huge COLD, I thought, I haven’t written about my lovely Friday the 13th, so maybe I’ll do that.

I had this horrible cold all week. I just wanted to lay down and have all the noise go away so I could sleep. For a long, long time. Unfortunately, the kids are out of school, and they have certain demands, like “feed me”, “there’s no bread”,”take me to band camp, pretty please” (only nobody ever says ‘pretty please’), and “why don’t I have any clean clothes?” So, while I tried to ignore their fighting and requests as much as I could, I still pretty much had to get up and do my job, haphazard as it may be. I also have rehearsal three nights a week and Saturday, so I’ve been really dragging. I didn’t even have the energy or the gumption to go shop at Kohl’s, even though I had a coupon for 30% off MY ENTIRE PURCHASE! Now if you know me, you’ll understand that I must have really been wiped out to let that one expire.

By Friday, I was feeling a bit better, and wanted to do something fun with the kids. So, I took them to Thanksgiving point for Dairy Days. They had fun ice cream cone samples, make your own butter and make your own ice cream displays, pony rides, and all the animals. The kids and I were especially intrigued by a Bingo Game where you write your name and phone number in a square, and hope that the cow poops in that square of the grid. It was called Dolly Bingo or something like that. They kept asking to go back and “check the poop bingo!” The kids were well behaved (partially because we brought a friend with us and that seems to make ALL the kids better behaved), and I did ok until we had been there about two hours. My head was stuffy and I felt weak and dizzy. I gave them the heads up that we would have to be leaving, and they actually did ok with that.

When we got home, I asked the kids if they could please just sit together in the family room and watch Disney Channel (I know, what a slacker mommy I am letting them watch such crap!) for a little bit so I could go and lie down. I think I was upstairs for about 45 minutes before I had to get Megan ready to go to a soccer practice. When I came downstairs to check on everyone, John was nowhere to be found.
“Where’s John?” I asked the kids.
“Huh?” was pretty much the general consensus. Nobody knew he had gone anywhere, nobody knew where he was. I made them turn off the tv, and sent them around the house and the yard to find John. When that search was unsuccessful, I sent them to ride around on their bikes, or go knock on the immediate neighbors’ doors, to see if they could locate the missing four year old. I started on the phone. It really didn’t take that long to find him, but it felt like hours. It turns out he was over at his friend, Noah’s house, about four houses away.
“I wanted to show them my new shoes,” he told me. Which in his mind totally justifies leaving the house without telling anyone, and walking ALONE to his friend’s house. I don’t ever let him go anywhere alone, and I thought he knew better than to just take off without telling anyone. He was placed on a time out while Mommy took a few minutes to calm down. I then took away the new shoes (which aren’t supposed to be worn until back to school time anyway), and explained to him the ins and outs of WHY we don’t just go over to a friend’s house without asking Mom. I tried to get it through to him how much I worry about him and all the bad things that could happen to him and that Mommy was very VERY worried because he didn’t tell me where he was going.
“It’s ok, Mom,” he said, “I didn’t get runned over by a car.”
Well, ok, then. That makes it all better.

By now, Megan is severely late for her soccer practice, and I wouldn’t have even bothered with it except that this was the day we were supposed to turn in our registration forms and money for next fall’s season, and I had to do that. So, there we are 15 minutes late, and I’m supposed to run home, feed the other kids and be back to pick her up in 30 minutes so we can go to her softball game. Right.

Dinner consisted of bagel bites pizza and bananas. What a culinary delight. I also stuffed a bag full of pretzels and grapes so we could at least have something to snack on during the game.

I didn’t get there in time to pick her up until nearly 6:00, then encountered a detour on the way to the softball game. She looks at the clock in the car and says, “Mom, we’re LATE!” in her disgruntled way. I should have just shoved her out of the car right then.

As we all piled out of the car and walked to the softball field, the kids are in various states of complaining. There’s nothing to do, I didn’t get enough to eat, I’m thirsty, can we go play at the park over there?
“Nope,” I told them. You will stay within 10 yards of me at all times, and none of you will leave my sight. EVER.” I said. Always the smarty pants, they said, “But what about when we go back to school?”
“Well, you’d better hope I’m over this little incident by then, won’t you?”
Needless to say, there was no playing at the park. They did, however, play in the grass, and run up and down the bleachers, dropping grapes and pretzels on the ground below. I took two tylenol and drank a diet coke, hoping to quell the headache that was threatening to explode in my head.

After the game, the kids and I moseyed back to the car, and I was thinking that maybe I’d take them to Wendy’s or something on the way home. They didn’t have much dinner, after all. Oh, how much things can change in a matter of seconds. By the time I reached the car and unlocked it, one child was crying, two were complaining, and one was whining about something or other. As they got in the car, the teasing continued. This was where they pushed me over the edge. I won’t go into my whole tirade on the way home, but I let them know in no uncertain terms that I would NOT be taking them out to dinner, or for a snack for that matter, and that they would NOT be spending the entire summer lounging around the house expecting me to cook, clean, do their laundry and drive them everywhere they needed to go while they just complained and picked fights with one another. When I finished, we drove in silence. Feeling pretty awesome about my skills as a mom at this point, let me tell you. As we approached the house, I told them to go upstairs, get in their pajamas, and they could fold their laundry and read a book IN THEIR ROOMS. There would be no snacks, no goofing around, and no noise. Well, there was noise, especially the stomping and door slamming kind of noise.

Eventually everyone got in bed and I did actually soften up enough to read John a story and tell each of the kids I was sorry that the night had turned out like it did, and tell them I loved them.

Funny thing, but as I sat there in my horrible mood, feeling guilty for having yelled at my kids, yet still angry at them for their behavior, my mom called. She reassured me that some days are like this, and no, I wasn’t a complete failure. Later, when everyone was in bed, my sister called. My incredibly patient sister with 10 kids. I told her about our bad day, and she could totally sympathize. I didn’t think she had days where she feels like a horrible mother, but she assured me that she does. That made me feel a little bit better. Then I wrote out the job lists for the next morning, and let me assure them that they were not short.

Of course things like this blow over. Kids aren’t constantly monsters and mother’s aren’t always at their wits end and not feeling good, but I still feel guilty about it. I wish I could have handled things in a different way, or perhaps been a little more patient.

When I said my prayers that night I thanked my Heavenly Father for allowing me to be the mother of these kids, and asked him to please please please bless me with wisdom and patience and understanding so that I could do a better job of raising them, and asked for His forgiveness for the way I had treated them. And He did forgive me, and loves me anyway.

Doctrine and Covenants 121:41-43
No power or influence can or ought to be maintained by virtue of the priesthood, only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned;
By kindness, and pure knowledge, which shall greatly enlarge the soul without hypocrisy, and without guile—
Reproving betimes with sharpness, when moved upon by the Holy Ghost; and then showing forth afterwards an increase of love toward him whom thou hast reproved, lest he esteem thee to be his enemy.

Pretty good so far

Since it’s summer here at Casa Erickson, we’ve set some new goals for summer. We do jobs, we help our around the house, and we read scriptures. Well, we’ve had a lot of complaining about the jobs. In fact, Jenna left me a note on my computer this morning that said, “I hate jobs”. I thought it said, “I hate JOHN”, and was quite upset when I saw it. I’d rather she hate jobs than hate John, I guess. So, no, the kids aren’t getting up anxious to see what their job of the day is, and I guess I’m ok with that.

What we have done well so far is reading the scriptures. We’ve had most of the family up and ready to read at 7:30. We read for about 15 minutes give or take, and we haven’t missed a day (well, except Saturday, and I decided that we could take Saturdays off) for almost two whole weeks. I know that may not sound like a big deal, but I’m pretty proud of us. I’m hoping we can make it through the whole summer!

And this dumb cold? Well, it’s still here. Sunday night when Ryan offered me some Nyquil knock off, I turned my nose up at the suggestion. By Monday night I was drinking the stuff. I just had to get some relief, and even if it tasted nasty I was going to drink it. Today is Wednesday, and I am on the upswing. Still taking some cold medicine, so I’m in a bit of a fog, but I think I could actually function, if needs be. My kids are tired of me shuffling around and the horrible noises I’m making, but I’m trying to avoid giving it to them. Oh, and I just went to the store and bought 10 boxes of Kleenex, because I think I was down to my last box.

Let me share with you

I will NOT share with you the nasty cold/allergies I currently am suffering. My throat hurts, my sinuses hurt, and I’ve gone through more Kleenex than I want to count. I’m hoping it goes away soon, and, NO, I’m glad you aren’t here, because I wouldn’t want to share it with you. What I would like to share with you is an awesome recipe. I saw this recipe in Better Homes and Gardens and thought it looked easy and yummy. I was right on both counts. Oh, they are good. Like English Toffee but easy to make. The problem, however, is that they are too good. I should have just taken the whole batch over the neighbors immediately, but we ate it all day Sunday until there wasn’t enough to make a decent sized plate to give away. I’d better not make this again unless I have a pot-luck or someplace to take them. But if you want to try them, here’s the recipe. Yum!

Oat ‘n’ Toffee Grahams

* 12 whole graham crackers (rectangles)
* 1-1/2 cups rolled oats
* 3/4 cup granulated sugar
* 3/4 cup packed brown sugar
* 3 Tbsp. all-purpose flour
* 2/3 cup butter, melted
* 1 egg, lightly beaten
* 1 tsp. vanilla
* 1 12-oz. pkg. semisweet chocolate pieces
* 1/2 cup smoke-flavored whole almonds, coarsely chopped

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line a 15x10x1-inch baking pan with foil, extending foil beyond edges of pan. Arrange whole graham crackers in a single layer in prepared pan. In a large bowl combine the oats, sugars, and flour. Stir in melted butter, egg, and vanilla until well combined. Spoon over graham crackers and spread evenly to edges of pan to cover graham crackers.

2. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes or until oat mixture bubbles and is lightly browned on top. Remove from oven and sprinkle with chocolate pieces. Return to oven for 1 minute. Spread melted chocolate over top to cover. Evenly sprinkle with almonds. Cool in pan on a wire rack. Use foil to lift from pan. Remove foil. Cut or break into bars. Makes 32 bars.

Ow

Today, while leaning into the van to get some groceries, I banged the top of my head on the top of the van doorframe. I just didn’t duck enough. The pain shot through my head and neck, as I guess my neck didn’t like it when the body that was moving in a forward motion was suddenly stopped by a head that wasn’t moving in a forward motion anymore. It hurt so bad that I put my head down on the seat and held it while saying, “Ow, Ow, Ow!”. I did not swear, as Jenna was in the car. But I guess I wasn’t hurt enough for her to worry about me, because she just continued into the house. By the time I made it into the house, I was crying, it hurt so bad. And I was mad. Mad at myself that I would get hurt doing something so routine. And embarrassed, because I must be really really stupid to get hurt banging my head on the van, for Pete’s sake.

5K? No way!

I need about a week to recover from Saturday. I was so tired last night I didn’t even have the energy or will to blog!

Saturday I got up at about 6:00 to get ready for the Running with Angels Race. I met my friends at 7 and picked up our “group shirts”. DaNae had put the “Highland Road Runners” on some blue shirts from her husband’s company, so not only were we doing a little advertising for him, we all matched and looked cute. Well, not really cute. I mean how cute can you actually look when you are running? Not very. To avoid any hair in the face, I had my hair in pig tails and bobby pinned to the max. Because I hate it when I’m all sweaty and hair gets in my face, don’t you?

race

So, we drove down to Thanksgiving point and got our stuff. It was a beautiful day. We even got those little electronic shoe chips to tell your time. I kind of felt like prisoner on house arrest. If you step outside the marked path, this thing will zap you and send out enough wattage to curl your hair–forever. OK, not really, but that’s what I was thinking. I was surprised at how many people I knew at the race. And I was a little embarrassed. I mean, I’m not the kind of person you would expect to see at one of these things, and besides, we already discussed how great I looked. As we made our way over to the starting line and waited, I just kept thinking, ‘What in the world am I doing here with all these runners? Why am I even here? Whose idea was this?’ and of course I thought, ‘Now should I go to the bathroom before we start, or can I make it for a whole hour?’ One look at the line for the bathroom convinced me that no, I don’t need to go.

Then, all of a sudden, we were off. I was carried in a sea of runners–well, I wish I had been carried, that would have been more fun–I was running with some runners! I was actually running. I don’t know how far it was that I jogged before I started walking, but soon I was walking, having all kinds of people passing me. I should have just started at the back. I would walk for a while, then jog for a bit, then walk for a while… You get the picture. I really should get a digital watch so I can keep regular about the whole walking/jogging thing, but I just kind of jogged when I felt like I could, and walked the rest of the time. Several times I saw my friends running the other way, and I would wave. That must have made them feel good–“Oh, look how far ahead of Paige I am, Hooray!”

We started at the Children’s Garden at Thanksgiving Point, and then went through the gardens. Since it’s been so cold this spring, the tulips that would normally be spent were at their full blooming glory. It was a beautiful sight. Too bad I couldn’t really appreciate it because I was huffing and puffing along. I soon found my pace and found a few target people to try and stay close to. Id’ like to thank that one girl with the long brown ponytail wearing black shorts and a race t-shirt. I stayed as close to her as I could. Sometimes I was ahead of her, sometimes she was ahead of me. We really should have paired up and done the race together, because I was probably annoying her, always trying to pass when she was walking. There was also a little girl in a pink shirt who made me laugh. She was maybe 7 or 8, and cute as can be. I don’t know where her parents or group were, because it seemed like she was alone. When I came up and passed her, she looked at me, and I smiled at her. Then she picked up her speed and ran to pass me. Then I would slowly come up on her and pass her again, but she would run to pass me. She was probably thinking, “There is no WAY I’m letting that old fat lady beat me on this race!” I don’t remember if I beat her, or if she beat me.

I finally came to the finish, and my time was 45 minutes and 38 seconds. That’s faster than I normally go on the treadmill, so that’s a personal best time for me.

When I looked up my results, I can see that I came in #33 in my age group, (only 12 forty year old women behind my friend Lisa) and 529th out of 754. That means that 225 people were behind me. That makes me feel better. I can also look up my friend’s scores and see that….Wow, they rocked! This categorization system leaves out a little information. Maybe they should rank you by your age, weight, and fitness level. Then I could know, that in the category of out of shape, overweight 40 year old women, I came in..eleventh, or something like that. Or, Look at this, Walter, there were only 5 people older and fatter than me who came in before me! Right.

When the torture was finally over, I grabbed a water bottle and chugged that thing down. I also ate an orange slice or two and those were some REALLY sweet oranges. Hardly worth three miles, but still, yummy. Even though I did not enjoy the race, there is a certain sense of accomplishment in having finished. I am proud of myself, and I’m glad I did it. Do I want to do it again real soon? Oh, hell no.

Well, that was fun….NOT

You’ve heard that saying that every day you should do something that scares you? Well, I’ve got that covered. I just returned from an audition. For a play. And it did not go well.

Arrgh.

Talk about embarrassing and demoralizing. Why would I do that to myself? Why? Because I’m just that stupid, I guess.

Let me tell you a little about it. Alpine Community Theater is putting on the play Seussical. ‘A play,’ I thought, ‘that sounds like fun. I think I’ll audition.’ So I got 16 measures of a song ready and memorized, and went over to the school.

Well, right off the bat the humiliation starts. They have everyone get a number, then take their pictures (not so bad just yet, right?), then you fill out the application, and then you go to the next station where they *measure* you. For costumes, they say. Well, if I wanted to get measured, I would go Curves (where they also measure you when you join). Height, neck, arm length, waist, bust, hips, inseam, shoe size, hat size, dress size. HOW FUN IS THAT? And there are tons of people there. Theater
people. Now, I must admit that back in high school I was one of those theater people, but I haven’t been around them for quite some time and I forgot how flamboyant some theater people can be.

They put us in a group of about 25, and took us into one of the music rooms to learn the dance. OH, let the humiliation continue. Did I mention that I’m not a dancer? Well, I’m not all that coordinated, and me dancing is really not that great to watch. Ugh. So, we learned a few minutes of a dance, and then she had us do it in groups of five. Oh, JOY of JOYS I’m in the first group. I was pleased that there were not all ballerinas and dancers there, and some people even looked as bad as me. But only some.

After we did that step, we moved on to another room where she was supposed to warm us up. We did some vocal warm ups and then we were each supposed to sing our audition piece, and she would give us a suggestion or two to get us ready for the real audition. One guy gets up and sings a fabulous song (Theater major at UVSC who doesn’t even live anywhere close to Alpine, by the way), and then someone comes in and says, “They’re waiting for people, so just send in the first 10.” That would be numbers 80-90, and since I was 86, that included me. So, no warm up, no practice, just go onto the stage for the audition.

We go onto the stage (the same stage where Natalie and Jenna had their dance recital last night, by the way), and hand the pianist our music, then sit back down and wait for instuctions. Ok, they say, let’s have you up and dance. We ran through the dance piece once, and then had to do it in two’s. OH MY HECK, WHAT WAS I THINKING? ‘Do the dance, don’t trip. Just do the dance and then you can get out of here.’ Positive self talk, you know. I did the dance. I maybe wasn’t the worst dancer there, but probably in the bottom 3, I’m thinking. And I’m so thirsty! Why didn’t I bring in a water bottle?

After everyone did the dance, we did our songs–the one thing I had prepared for. I was fourth to sing. I was singing “Think of me” from Phantom of the Opera. Just the first verse. I get up there and started, and somewhere in the middle I totally forgot the words. I kept singing, but it wasn’t pretty. It went something like… On that day, when I forgot the words, and you are far away and free….. Oh, yeah, let’s just let the public humiliation continue shall we? Even David Archuleta forgot the words, once, right? So I guess I’m in good company. I can’t really compare my voice to the others singers, because I know they were all nervous, too. I was better than some, not as good as others.

I did get a tiny moment to shine when they asked if anyone had circus-type acts, and I said, “I can do balloon animals,” and they seemed impressed for a second. I made the judges a weiner dog, and the guy with the great voice who can also dance did a back-flip across the stage. I felt very old and fat and out of place.

Finally we got to read lines, and we all turned to whatever page they said to turn to and read the part they asked. I got to read TWO LINES for Mrs. Mayor. Two lines! How can they find out anything about me from TWO LINES? I did put my whole heart and soul into those lines, but really, since I had already botched the song AND the dance part, I’m pretty sure those two lines won’t carry me to a part.

So, there you have it, folks. As we were walking out, a nice girl named Jennifer mumbled, “I think I need to go shopping,” and I said, “I hear you, girl.” The last time I went to an audition (for the bell choir 3 years ago), my friend Melinda and I went to lunch and shopping afterward “so that the day wouldn’t be a total waste.” I felt like I needed to go out to lunch and go shopping after, this, I’ll tell you what. I auditioned because I thought being in a play would be SO MUCH FUN. But auditioning? Not at all fun.

Luckily a friend invited Megan and I to a mother and daughter pampered chef party today. I can’t wait. I’ll see if I can bandage up my bruised and trampled self esteem enough to go to a party. And why, oh why, did I tell my neighbors I was going to take part in this stupidity? Oh, yes. Because I had to borrow some music from them.

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