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Personal Blog of Author Kathryn Thompson

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Archives for February 2009

Drill Team, Princesses and the Best Mom Ever, Who is Me

February 28, 2009 by Kathryn

I’m always looking for great new ways to play the hero to my children, while expending limited money and effort. Sometimes I really have to search for these opportunities and other times they just bonk me over the head.

drill-team-comp-004The past week Laylee’s been really acting up. We’ve made some changes at home, I’ve been sick and she’s been looking for attention in less than helpful ways. Around Thursday we made up and she’s been sweet as pie the last couple of days, no snotty looks, cranky backtalk and picking on her brother for no particular reason. I’ve been trying to think of a way to give her some good positive attention for the attitude transplant.

Enter an email from one of the high school girls I teach at church and a mother-daughter date afternoon was born. Today Layee and I attended the high school drill and dance team competition — princess themed. For the cost of $5, both of us got into the event, Laylee dressed in an elaborate princess-meets-sorcerer-meets-flower-fairy costume. Our friends Eve and Missy joined in the fun.

drill-team-comp-001Keep an eye out for this kind of thing in the local news section of your paper because it was a fun, cheap way to support the community and have an unforgettable time together. Laylee was absolutely smitten with all the dancers whose routines ranged from modern/jazz to drill team to pom to hip hop.

Laylee enjoyed the drill team stuff, crisp as lettuce with fake hair bouncing smartly. I’m sure she wondered why their hands were glued to the smalls of their backs whenever they weren’t dancing but she didn’t ask.

She thought the modern/jazz dancers were beautiful because they did pirouettes and arabesques like ballerinas. But when they finished and were followed up by the pom girls, she decided she liked the pom dancers better. “They were just SO much happier!” It’s true. They were happier. While the lyrical dancers were serious and dramatic, the pom girls had smiles that could not be chiseled off. I think it’s in the international pom code of ethics. If your smile is not atomic, you will be stricken from the team forthwith. I mean, if you’re shaking glittery poms and doing high kicks, your face has to keep up somehow.
drill-team-comp-010
At some point in the afternoon Laylee and Missy were eating snacks. Laylee had a giant chocolate muffin the size of her head and Missy was enjoying a dry white bagel. Looking for the perfect opportunity, she waited for Laylee to finish a bite and reopen her mouth before she shoved a giant piece of bagel into Laylee’s pie hole. Laylee sat in stunned silence, white carbohydrates completely plugging her mouth and Missy looked up at her mom proudly. “I always share,” she said. Laylee removed the bagel from her mouth and smiled at me confusedly.
drill-team-comp-008
Now the whole afternoon we were waiting for them to call the girls up to be led in a princess parade by one of the drill team girls. It didn’t appear to be happening. Rumor was that the parade would happen at intermission but intermission came and went and there was no parade. “Maybe we should go ask the announcer,” I suggested to Eve. “I don’t want to bug anybody though.”

“It’s okay mom,” Laylee said, grabbing my hand, “I’ll go up there with you.”

So we walked up together and I asked about the event. They didn’t seem sure but said they’d do it soon.

A few minutes later, they announced it was time for the parade and called all princesses to the center of the gymnasium. Laylee and Missy marched up proudly, followed by….. nobody. In the end, one mother carrying a baby princess joined the group and our two little divas, not at all intimidated by the bleachers full of adults and teenagers, twirled and flitted about with princessly grace. Their drill team leaders attempted to lead them across the floor and they followed them… sort of. But they were defninitely not going to give up their spotlight easily.

I love this video passionately and if you’re my mom or someone who knows Laylee, you probably will too. Anyone else can skip it. Just believe me when I say it was the experience of a lifetime for our little highnesses. My favorite part comes at the end when the music has stopped but the girls just stand like deer in headlights staring at the crowd and refusing to move until they are gently escorted back to their seats by their drill team idols. Priceless.

Best line of the day — when Laylee was watching a ballet-ish lyrical number, she leaned over to me and said, “Mom. I picture myself doing that someday.” Good job Laylee. Keep visualizing. I’ll be there to cheer you on. I won’t have poms though. They’re just not part of my past, present, or future skill set. I could wave a hanky or a program or something and if you really want me to, I’ll get my teeth whitened.
drill-team-comp-012

Filed Under: Around Town, women

Have Fun and Don’t Be an Idiot

February 25, 2009 by Kathryn

The kids are growing up and doing stupid stuff. It takes my mind back to the good old days when I was young and doing stupid stuff and couldn’t understand why my parents were concerned.

[Read more at Parenting.com]

Filed Under: Parenting

A Funeral for Hope?

February 23, 2009 by Kathryn

headlines
Yes, it’s true. According to the Saturday Seattle P.I., hope is dead. While the rest of the country was desperately doing chest compressions, the Post Intelligencer decided to cover up a yawn and just call it. Time of death – 2am, Saturday, February 21st.

It’s sad that they’re such Debbie Downers but they’re not the only ones. Despair makes for drama and drama makes for exciting news. I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard a news anchor use the words “Great Depression.” I keep waiting for the black and white street urchin photos to start being rolled out.

And have you heard the latest Hyundai promotion? If you lose your job within the next year, you can return the car with no penalties. My first thought was, “That’s nice.” And then I thought, “Oh wow, that’s depressing!”

I wonder if they’d extend the same deal to small business owners who lose so much business that they can barely keep their heads above water or people whose hours or commissions are cut drastically. Just because someone isn’t laid off doesn’t mean they’re not affected by the crappy economy.

It’s pretty scary out there and we’re watching the current economy affect everyone around us but I have to say that I still have hope. I’ve seen people reach out to each other with amazing acts of kindness and offers of help. I feel a sense of community and family growing because we’re all realizing how much we need each other.

That’s not hopeless. It may just be the most hopeful thing I’ve seen in years.

Filed Under: Around Town

Fare Thee Well JackAgain

February 22, 2009 by Kathryn

Poor Jack is dead. Poor JackAgain is dead. I noticed him laying on the bottom of the bowl a few days ago, his untouched pellets swollen on the surface of the water. This is not unusual for JackAgain. He will sometimes lie on the bottom of the bowl for days at a time as if sleeping or in deep thought, only to startle when the glass is tapped and then sink back down to the bottom.
This picture taken 2.5 years ago
I think he was always prone to depression, a little fish stuck in a bowl with no chance of escape.

When I tapped on the glass this time, his lifeless body just swayed with the motion of the water but nary a fin did he flap. I tried again, this time noticing that his body seemed to be covered in sort of a waxy film.

So I told the kids. They took it okay. Laylee was off and running in a few seconds. Magoo seemed fine until suddenly he was not. His eyes filled with tears. “JackAgain is dead?” he cried. “Yes buddy, I’m afraid he is. But it’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

Magoo reached out for some mama loves and I picked his giant boy body up in my arms and held him like a baby. Seeing the attention he was getting, Laylee came running over. “I can’t believe he’s dead,” she faux-sobbed in a voice vaguely reminiscent of a half-way decent impression of real sadness. “I just can’t believe it. Oh JackAgain!”

My eyes did not do a full roll. They just sort of drifted heavenward and my eyelashes only fluttered a bit as I reached out a hand to touch her un-Oscar-worthy play-grieving arm. “Yeah. We’ll sure miss him,” I lied.

So we held a bowl-side flush funeral for the fish. Dan asked for advice on what he should say and we came up with a Finding Nemo meets The Lion King sort of Christian sermon about how all drains lead to the ocean and he’ll then be eaten by a bigger fish in the great circle of life but his spirit will live on in fishy heaven. You see, I have a firm belief in an afterlife and resurrection but I’ll be darned if I could explain exactly what JackAgain’s spirit was doing at that moment. Honestly I didn’t much care.

I have disliked that fish with a fervent dislikishness since nearly the day we brought him home almost THREE YEARS AGO. We had gone through a series of fish rather rapidly. They would die or eat each other and we’d get a new one. I was sick of cleaning fish poop out of the bowl but each time I’d cave and buy another to quell Laylee’s grief. When she was 3, it was more believable.

The day I bought JackAgain, I told Dan he was the last fish I’d ever buy. In 3-6 months when he kicked the bucket, I was done. The kids loved him for about 2 minutes every couple of weeks when their friends were over but other than that, it was just me, Jack, and the stinking bowl of fish ish. He couldn’t do anything cool. I sensed he was unhappy in his little glass prison. He looked weird. My confessions of periodically forgetting to care for him earned me nasty comments from pet lovers who felt I should not be allowed to reproduce considering my inhumane treatment of Betta fish.

At some point, around when I read the first book in the Twilight series, I began to wonder about how he was living so long. Maybe he wasn’t alive but some sort of undead fish who would “live” forever, pooping and tormenting me, long after my children were grown and gone.

Apparently he was un-undead because now he’s actually dead and I think we all know that’s impossible for an un. I can’t say there wasn’t some glee as I cleaned out his bowl for the last time, running his little glass rocks and plastic plants through the dishwasher to remove any deadness that might have rubbed off on them.

Since he left no last will and testament, his home and other personal effects will be donated to my neighbor Natasha, the marine biologist, to be used in some sort of humane and deeply noble project that will possibly absolve me from openly admitting my failure to love one of God’s creatures.

Filed Under: Faith, Save Me From Myself

Laylee’s Mite

February 19, 2009 by Kathryn

Laylee’s been trying to interpret and apply the biblical story of the widow’s mite. I blogged about it over at the Parenting Post.

…She replied, “Maybe Jesus just decided he didn’t want people to give as much money to the treasury anymore so he was happy that she understood what he wanted and only gave a little bit.”…

[read more at Parenting.com]

Filed Under: Faith, Parenting

In Mourning

February 11, 2009 by Kathryn

I’ve been struggling with a stomach bug this past week and recently its friend the head and chest cold came to join the party so I pretty much feel like pathetic death on toast.

But worse than that, my laptop experienced a hardware failure and has been gutted and shipped off to the computer hospital for emergency surgery. I weep for it. I crave it’s closeness. I find myself in mourning.

Out of respect for my injured friend and due to the earth-shattering plague rocking my body systems, I may not be blogging for a while. But like the terminator I will be back eventually and for the time being I’ll blog at least once a week over at parenting with a link here to my musings.

Today I wrote about time. Laylee’s recently learned how to tell time and our lives will never be the same again. [click to read more at Parenting]

When we put my laptop, let’s call him Timmy, to rest in his Fedex casket, we needed to trim some of the shipping materials for a better fit. Magoo took the leftover pieces and fashioned them into some sort of weapon laser thing. When he was done with it, he left it on my bathroom vanity. Do you think it’s a sign? Because it’s sort of creeping me out.

DSCN0722

Filed Under: Technology

The Castle

February 4, 2009 by Kathryn

Laylee’s planning on moving out soon and I don’t think I’m invited. It has something to do with my personal appearance.

Read more at Parenting.com

Filed Under: Parenting

I am Not Responsible for Josh Groban

February 3, 2009 by Kathryn

Dan has a hard time distinguishing between Josh Groban and Michael Bublé. I can understand the difficulty. They are both male and they both sing songs and both of their careers were created by the United States of Oprah, respectively. The difference as I see it is that Josh Groban is Oprah’s version of Andrea Bocelli and Michael Bublé is Oprah’s version of Harry Connick Junior. He still gets them confused so I say Groban — Vibrato, Bublé — bubbly brass section.

I’m pretty over Josh Groban at this point and it’s not because most of his songs sound identical or even the vibrato, because although he has a lot of vibrato, it is not constant and therefore can be tolerated. I’m not sure what it is but I’m just over him. Except for one song.

Remember When It Rained.

I love this song. I have no idea what it’s about. I think it may have religious connotations and I know one of you will google-wiki it for me and tell me what it means but I’d rather not know. In my mind, I prefer to think that it’s about making out in the rain, one of those completely unrealistic kisses where you just run to someone through the pouring rain, probably in the dark, likely wearing a dark-colored prom dress, and the first thing to connect is your lips and you’re maybe crying but you can’t tell because the rain is pouring down on your faces… or something like that. It’s not like I envision this scene every time I hear the song and sing along at the top of my lungs while planning the rain kissing chapter of my next book or anything.

So today I was driving along when that particular song came on my Zune completely by happenstance and for some odd reason my mind was drawn to that particular line of thought (the rain kissing thing), which caught me completely off-guard and I was forced to sing along with such fervor that I lost track of my speedometer. Blame it on the strings. Blame it on the rain. Blame it on Josh Groban if you must but I feel fairly convinced that I was not responsible for my temporary breaking of the traffic laws of this good land.

As I slowed down I started thinking, what would I have told the officer if I’d been pulled over during my…erm…performance/brainstorming session? I think I would have had to tell the truth. “Josh Groban made me do it. He’s in league with Dr. Phil and Oprah. I had no choice.”

In high school I had a friend who totaled his father’s car while taking it off a jump with some friends. He proceeded to tell his dad matter-of-factly that he was not responsible. He only did it because he was listening to the Beastie Boys at the time.

I imagine my Josh Groban defense would go over about as well. I haven’t seen that boy in… a while…

Filed Under: Around Town, Save Me From Myself

The Best Dance Song EVER

February 2, 2009 by Kathryn

Filed Under: video

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