Erin spent the summer months at the ice rink. Not so little anymore, she's continued the metamorphosis from shy Little Bit into the more outgoing Skater Girl. Her self-confidence has grown along with her increasing skills level on the ice. She placed well in her first competition in July bringing home medals for a 2nd place finish in her compulsories and 5th place for her musical program from "Finding Nemo".
The decision to compete again in September saw a flurry of activity through the late Summer as new music was chosen for the program and choreography determined. That led to a new competition dress to fit the "DragonHeart" program and many hours practicing both on and off ice. The new program and compulsories brought third place finishes in both events. Skater Girl performed very well, and she's already looking forward to the next competition in November just after the close of her first year skating.Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Teeter Totter
After avoiding the procedures for a couple of years, both knees were partially replaced in July. A few weeks were blocked out for the recovery period. It turns out that the recovery period is more like several months. It's literally been baby steps from waking up post-op to discover that getting out of bed was going to be a Herculean task. In the past week or so, the final "assistive device" has been put aside almost all of the time. Without that cane, my gait is sometimes a bit off.
The mister says I look like I'm trying to sneak around. Assuming that the standard for, "sneaking around," is on par with a Scooby Doo cartoon villain that creeps about slowly with arms raised, he's pretty close in that assessment. Adding to the oddity, occasionally balance is lost and the creeping takes on a wheeling quality not unlike a small child playing at imitating an airplane or bird. Completing the picture, when tired, there's a lovely lurching gait when moving from place to place; otherwise, I just teeter a bit.
The family has taken to announcing that, "She's had both knees replaced recently." They figure this will prevent people from beginning to whisper that I drink. All the time. Because that's pretty much the appearance. When the Homecoming Date came in to meet us before taking Middle Child out for ice cream, he was informed twice because everyone wanted to make a good impression. As part of the rehab process, I've taken to walking a mile circuit through the neighborhood. Toward the end, not one, but two neighbor ladies were doing double-takes as I careened through the final two-tenths of the mile this morning. Awesome.
The mister says I look like I'm trying to sneak around. Assuming that the standard for, "sneaking around," is on par with a Scooby Doo cartoon villain that creeps about slowly with arms raised, he's pretty close in that assessment. Adding to the oddity, occasionally balance is lost and the creeping takes on a wheeling quality not unlike a small child playing at imitating an airplane or bird. Completing the picture, when tired, there's a lovely lurching gait when moving from place to place; otherwise, I just teeter a bit.
The family has taken to announcing that, "She's had both knees replaced recently." They figure this will prevent people from beginning to whisper that I drink. All the time. Because that's pretty much the appearance. When the Homecoming Date came in to meet us before taking Middle Child out for ice cream, he was informed twice because everyone wanted to make a good impression. As part of the rehab process, I've taken to walking a mile circuit through the neighborhood. Toward the end, not one, but two neighbor ladies were doing double-takes as I careened through the final two-tenths of the mile this morning. Awesome.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Tragedy and Comedy
Middle Child started high school this Fall. She whined and complained about taking Technical Theatre, but she will need a fine art credit for graduation, so she was stuck in the class. The first day MC came home and recounted with horror that Tech Theatre was a whole class of guys, a mute girl, our girl, and a Queen Bee mean girl. Two weeks later, our whiny girl is gushing about her favorite class of the whole day: Technical Theatre. There are the funniest boys in there. Hahahaha. Mmmhmm. There are two names repeated often, but we'll just call them Tragedy and Comedy.
She spends a weekend texting back and forth with Tragedy relating selected texts to me, and we end up in a department store because the topic of the texts is homecoming. She's going to need a dress for the dance if she has a, gulp, date, and she will still need a dress if she goes as planned with a group of friends. She tries on the first dress, but it's ho-hum at best. The second one is cute, but it's a little snug on her so Mom dutifully goes out and returns with the next size up. The dress is perfect on her. She inserts in her message to the boy that she just got her dress. Tragedy asks if she would say, "Yes!" if Comedy asked her to homecoming. Eh?
Before she responds, I explain that Tragedy may have been chatting her up to pave the way for his friend. (It happens. No one likes to be shot down, but, on the other hand, it would stink to go to one of the big events of the school year with someone who would just as soon go with someone else.) I then ask if she would be interested in going to homecoming specifically with Tragedy, or if she might want to go with Comedy. (I also warn her that this could be a trick question, so she waits a moment to answer him while considering the many possibilities.) She gives a careful, noncommittal response that leaves either avenue open without sounding like jerk.
That same night, Tragedy nearly causes a fire in his kitchen trying to get a homecoming invite into a fortune cookie. This seems significant because the week before, Middle Child had posted her fortune from another cookie on her Facebook page. (Facebook would be one of the easiest places to get clues about her for a guy who has had limited opportunity to figure out her likes and dislikes.) He specifically asked her if she liked fortune cookies in the intervening days, so it's looking increasingly likely that a homecoming invitation from Tragedy is forthcoming. She will probably say, "Yes." Even though she has heard that Comedy likes her, he has not been texting as much as Tragedy.
Monday dawns, and she (Well, we... I hope I'm not one of those creepy moms who is way too into her kids' lives...) anticipates that the day will bring a homecoming invitation. It doesn't because Tragedy gives what may well have been a custom invite for our girl to another girl with the same name two class periods before he sees our girl. His thin explanation is that he, "...freaked out, and [he] thought, she'd shoot him down." Really?! Tragedy is now marked, "Clearly Unworthy" after this disappointment. Comedy was absent, but it gives Middle Child a day to think about whether she just wants to go to the game and dance with her friends, or if perhaps Comedy is going to ask her.
The next day, in the Drama Room, Comedy delivers a note asking if Middle Child will go to homecoming with him. (He manages to give the note intended for her to her, so he's already looking pretty good in Mom's book.) She accepts. Butting in, I also mention to her that it would be wise to simply rewrite Tragedy's plans assuming that he gave his invitation to the girl he really liked. In accepting Comedy's invitation, she needs to be sure she's not even a little moony-eyed over Tragedy. She appears to have accepted this advice along with the date. So, now it's on with the show.
She spends a weekend texting back and forth with Tragedy relating selected texts to me, and we end up in a department store because the topic of the texts is homecoming. She's going to need a dress for the dance if she has a, gulp, date, and she will still need a dress if she goes as planned with a group of friends. She tries on the first dress, but it's ho-hum at best. The second one is cute, but it's a little snug on her so Mom dutifully goes out and returns with the next size up. The dress is perfect on her. She inserts in her message to the boy that she just got her dress. Tragedy asks if she would say, "Yes!" if Comedy asked her to homecoming. Eh?
Before she responds, I explain that Tragedy may have been chatting her up to pave the way for his friend. (It happens. No one likes to be shot down, but, on the other hand, it would stink to go to one of the big events of the school year with someone who would just as soon go with someone else.) I then ask if she would be interested in going to homecoming specifically with Tragedy, or if she might want to go with Comedy. (I also warn her that this could be a trick question, so she waits a moment to answer him while considering the many possibilities.) She gives a careful, noncommittal response that leaves either avenue open without sounding like jerk.
That same night, Tragedy nearly causes a fire in his kitchen trying to get a homecoming invite into a fortune cookie. This seems significant because the week before, Middle Child had posted her fortune from another cookie on her Facebook page. (Facebook would be one of the easiest places to get clues about her for a guy who has had limited opportunity to figure out her likes and dislikes.) He specifically asked her if she liked fortune cookies in the intervening days, so it's looking increasingly likely that a homecoming invitation from Tragedy is forthcoming. She will probably say, "Yes." Even though she has heard that Comedy likes her, he has not been texting as much as Tragedy.
Monday dawns, and she (Well, we... I hope I'm not one of those creepy moms who is way too into her kids' lives...) anticipates that the day will bring a homecoming invitation. It doesn't because Tragedy gives what may well have been a custom invite for our girl to another girl with the same name two class periods before he sees our girl. His thin explanation is that he, "...freaked out, and [he] thought, she'd shoot him down." Really?! Tragedy is now marked, "Clearly Unworthy" after this disappointment. Comedy was absent, but it gives Middle Child a day to think about whether she just wants to go to the game and dance with her friends, or if perhaps Comedy is going to ask her.
The next day, in the Drama Room, Comedy delivers a note asking if Middle Child will go to homecoming with him. (He manages to give the note intended for her to her, so he's already looking pretty good in Mom's book.) She accepts. Butting in, I also mention to her that it would be wise to simply rewrite Tragedy's plans assuming that he gave his invitation to the girl he really liked. In accepting Comedy's invitation, she needs to be sure she's not even a little moony-eyed over Tragedy. She appears to have accepted this advice along with the date. So, now it's on with the show.
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