Sandra Tayler

Yesterday Howard was named “The coolest family dude in webcomics” by Peter Hayward of Weekly Webcomic Reviews http://www.thechainsawblokes.com/wwr/?p=38 This was information I already knew. I’m getting pretty used to Howard recieving accolades of one kind or another. I happen to know that he deserves them because I know how hard he works and how hard he is on himself because he never feels like he is working hard enough. In this case the accolades are a little different because Hayward doesn’t read Schlock Mercenary at all. He reads Howard’s livejournal and enjoys it, but apparently he reads this journal even more avidly. He had some very nice things to say about my writing. In fact Howard has to share his award with me. This isn’t a problem since we share most things anyway. (Except for his computer, car, and ipod those belong to him.)

I read this review late last night when I was too tired to put coherent words together. Then this morning was slurped into the black hole known as “preschool field trip.” Once I arrived back home and shuffled the children off to play, I sat down and scanned through my recent entries trying to figure out what exactly it was about my writing that Hayward likes enough that he’s trying to send masses of people to read my entries about potty training or dance lessons. I had to fight back an impulse to try to write something particularly entertaining to validate Hayward’s theory that my journal is worth reading. It was a pretty easy fight to win, because the truth is that this journal is primarily for me, not because I want to gain an audience. I know lots of ways that I could drive more traffic to my journal, but I don’t really want the word “traffic” associated with it. Drive by traffic sometimes throws rocks. Everyone who is here wended their way here through a personal connection of some kind. It is a filtering process of sorts and the people who are interested in the kinds of things I have to say will stick around to read and comment.

I love having people read my entries and respond. I love when a response gives me new thoughts on the subject du jour. I love having people comment on my writing or tell me stories about their own lives. I love the way this journal allows me to connect to people with whom I never would have expected to connect. I began this journal as a way to write entertaining/interesting entries so that years from now I could cruise through my journal archives and remember what life was like today. It still serves that purpose, but it provides much more than that. The unexpected gift of this journal has been a personal renaissance. Because of this journal I began writing regularly. Because of the online friendships that have developed, I’ve grown into a stronger and more confident person. I gain far more from this journal and the people who respond to it, than I put into it.

So a big “Thank You” goes to Mr. Hayward for his kind words. I’ll add “Welcome” to anyone new who has wandered here and decided to stick around for awhile.

I spoke with my sister-in-law today and she agreed to watch my kids for 4 days. This means I’ll get to attend Conduit with Howard. I’m really looking forward to it, although coming home at night to an empty house will be a little strange. Being able to attend Conduit is pretty critical this year because for the first time, we’ll have books to sell. I’m also looking forward to being able to attend panels and visit with adults and spend time with Howard. At the end of the weekend I expect to be exhausted and hopefully ready to go back to mommying again.

For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

The past two days have been high energy, cheerful days. I’ve figured out how I am going to manage a huge address list, and mail what will hopefully be thousands of packages. For those two days I was extremely task oriented and focused.

So today was probably inevitable. Today I want to curl up with some entertaining tv program and eat yummy food that I didn’t have to cook. Unfortunately what I wanted wasn’t in the cards. Instead I’m left to muddle through today’s responsiblities the best I can.

I don’t require gifts of flowers to reassure me that I am loved. I don’t expect them on my birthday, or anniversary, or mother’s day. And when they don’t arrive I do not feel slighted or sad or upset.

But there are rare occasions when I am gifted with flowers and I cannot deny the effect they have upon my mood. Recieving flowers makes me feel happy and cherished and honored particularly when the gift is unexpected. Howard brought me a single rose tonight. They were handed out en masse at the place he was, but he brought it home to me. And now I have a rose despite freezing temperatures outside.

The scent lingers on my hands and makes me happy.

I’ve been in denial for a long time, but the time has come for me to actively tackle potty training Patches. I’ve been mentally planning to wait until June when I wouldn’t have to babysit NotMyBaby anymore. But due to fortuitious circumstances NMB is going elsewhere for childcare and I have my hands and brain more available to ponder potty training processes.

I’m not going to be pulling out the underpants just yet. For the next week (or month) I’ll be encouraging Patches to sit on the potty about 15 minutes after every meal. Eventually the gastrointestinal reflex will work in my favor and I’ll get to reward Patches hugely for filling the potty.

Patches won’t get to wear underpants until I’m no longer changing stinky diapers.

I don’t like dreaming about my children being dead, but sometimes I do. I don’t dream of traumatic deaths, mostly I dream that a certain child is just gone. They are dreams about grief and about the huge hole the absense of that particular child would leave in my life. Last night I dreamed such a dream about Gleek. I dreamed that she never got to take her dance classes. Fortunately I awoke from the dream to discover that Gleek had snuck into bed with me. I was able to snuggle her for awhile before putting her back in her own bed so I could sleep the rest of the night.

This morning when Gleek woke up I took a few extra minutes to snuggle her on the couch. Gleek is only really snuggly when she’s sleepy, I need to savor the times when she is, because she’ll soon be too big to bundle up in my lap. When that happens I will grieve a little for the 5 year old Gleek that is no more, but only a little, because I’ll have a whole new Gleek to love. The thought of not having my 5 year old Gleek and the future being empty of other iterations of Gleek, makes me want to cry. And snuggle her lots more.

I don’t like these dreams, but I think it is good I have them sometimes. The dreams make me take a look at what I have and appreciate it lots more.

My parents offered to pay for a dance class for Gleek. This is a wonderful development because Gleek needs something to enrich her life and she loves both music and moving around. I’ve been feeling like a dance class would be good for her, but with our budget so tight I was holding off on enrolling her. With my parent’s offer I tackled the project of picking the right dance class.

Not all dance classes are created equal, so I knew I wanted to choose carefully. My first step was the yellow pages. There were more than 30 dance studios listed. I rejected any that were more than a 5 minute drive from my house. That brought the number down to 5. One of those only taught irish step dancing, not what I was looking for. I wanted a combination class that would introduce Gleek to several styles of dance. Another one answered my inquiry about classes with the information that enrollment was closed until May. That left 3 studios for me to evaluate. I figured that Gleek should be able to participate in the selection process, so I piled her in the car and we went to go see the three studios.

I was predisposed to like the studio that had “Ballet” and “conservatory” in the name. It sounded so high class and artistic. Once I got there and began talking to the lady behind the desk I realized that “conservatory” is a code name for “expensive.” The monthly class fees were reasonable ($37), but then there was a registration fee ($30). And you had to buy both ballet gear and tap gear which they’d be happy to sell at premium prices (about $50). And of course you had to buy a costume for the upcoming recital ($40), only they’d already ordered the costumes, so there would be a late fee (probably $30, but maybe more). I knew it wasn’t my money I was spending, but $187 sounded steep for start up costs on a beginner class. I decided to check out the other studios.

The next place had “club” in the name, which appealed to Gleek. The lobby was half waiting area, half shop for glitzy dance gear. This one actually had a class running that Gleek could watch. She loved it. She loved the shiny things in the lobby. I asked about prices, the registration fee was comparable, but they’d pulled a trick with the pricing. The monthly fee was $55, but if you paid before the 15th of the month they gave you a $15 discount. Why they didn’t just say $40 per month with a late fee? This studio didn’t require recitals or costumes and didn’t require any specific dance gear. I liked that part. I also liked that this studio focused on jazz, ballet, and tumbling. Gleek loves doing tricks, so tumbling will be right up her alley. What I didn’t like was the glitz. I looked at all the pictures of little girls on the walls wearing little slinky outfits with make up and I felt uncomfortable. I want my daughter to be able to dance, not to grow up fast.

Gleek loved the “club” and voted firmly in favor of it. I was tired and ready to just go home, so I was ready to accept the club. We didn’t have to decide right away because Gleek was allowed a trial class before we spent any money. But before we could go home we had to acquire the all important dance clothes. I happen to know that Kmart is a better supplier of dance clothes than Walmart, so we went there. Gleek fell in love with a pink leotard with silver stars. We got that, ballet shoes, and some tights. Yay, mission accomplished, we went home.

At home my brain wouldn’t stop running. I called some neighbors and asked where they had taken their daughters for dance. They’d all gone different places, but several provided low opinions of the “club”. They said it was pushy. I decided that it was worth my time to try the last studio.

This last studio failed to impress me over the phone because an unknowledgable teen answered and because they had no ad in the phone book to give me information. But it was closer to home than the other two (walking distance even), so I decided to give it a look. It was small without big shiny windows. The only thing they sold was dance lessons not dance gear. There were two classes running and I liked the interactions I saw. The classes were all combination classes of Jazz, Ballet, and Tumbling. But what I liked best of all were the group photos on the wall. The girls were all simply dressed and there were smiling confident girls of all body types even on their performing teams. The message was clear, you don’t have to be skinny to be good at dancing. The classes and registration fees were cheaper by about $5 each and there were girls in the classes wearing sweats and socks.

Gleek will be having lessons at this last Studio. For awhile she was holding out for the “club” but what she really cares about is getting to dance. Right NOW. Unfortunately her free trial class isn’t until Tuesday. I’ve got five more days in which to answer incessant reiterations of “Is it Tuesday yet?”