Datebook: Monday, October 30th ~ 2006

With the holiday season just around the corner I thought we might want to go over the gift list again. Oh, not for the kids.

You know how the offspring always ask you, “What would you like this year mom?”

And we always answer, “Oh, nothing. I already have everything I could possibly want. I just enjoy watching you open your presents.”

This year I think we should do some inner reflection and give them something solid to put in our stockings.

So I’ve made a list which you can cut and paste and hand out to your dancing diva or divo. As you can tell, most of these are without cost since gifts with cost are merely an added expense to, well, us.

But remember, this makes them priceless.

Top Ten List of Presents That Kids Can Give Their Parents. A “top 8” spot on your Myspace list. Even if we do not have an account, the symbolism would be appreciated. I know there is much jockeying for position so I would not expect a 1 to 4 ranking. But please, even Tom is on 64% of teen Myspace accounts—so why not mom?

A “thank you” card that you have prepared in advance to be handed out during the year for exceptional parenting. This might be for something like a seven hour trek in the rain to watch SkateAmerica, giving you the suede boots before Christmas because they would look so cute with your jeans, or just for the extra fifty bucks so you don’t have to eat vanilla yogurt without fruit for the entire week.

A photo that you have requested during the year of the two of us. I know, I know, these are not as good as the 963 photos that you self shot at arms length of yourself with friends, but the gesture would be appreciated.

A photo that you have allowed to be taken during the past year when you actually did not complain, or roll your eyes, or sigh like you were taking a breathing analysis test. After this photo you would continue to smile and ask, “Was that good, would you like to take another one just to be sure?”

A coupon for a dinner with us, the parents. This would be used at our discretion and would involve dining, dinner conversation, and never looking at your watch to see how much longer you think you will have to sit there.

Breakfast at home, at the table, with everyone sitting down at one time. No one would have on pajamas and nothing with a Kellogg’s label would be on or near the table. Whatever was on the table would have pure vanilla as an ingredient,

A night at the movies—in a real theater for a just released, long awaited film—ah, yes and not a matinee, you might be seen out with me in the night hours. Afterwards we could go to Coldstone and try a new ice cream creation. This is best offered in the winter.

A snow day. Actual snow optional. This is a pajamas on the couch with blankets morning where we watch old movies like Dirty Dancing or something the Olsens were in when they were under 15 or one of the Mutant Ninja Turtle movies.

A book discussion. This is really an extended gift—you know, I get you a book you asked for sometime during the year--one that you have been dying to read and then you are so enthused about the plot and character development you ask me to read it too. I do and then we have this long discussion on the common threads the theme weaves through the book and the implications they have on the social connections in our real world.

And the Number One Gift we could ask our kids to give us…..if we suggest a song to skate to, don’t act like we tried to pair up 50 Cent and Charlotte Church—at least mull it over, consider making it an exhibition piece to be skated at the local rink if nothing else. Oh yeah, and numbers 2 through 10.

Remember, sneering and ridicule have no place amongst the mistletoe.

Mombo

Datebook: Thursday October 26th ~ 2006

It is hard to think of Halloween as a real holiday but it is my daughter’s favorite. Actually the candy industry sells 3 billion dollars worth of sugary treats during the last weeks of October with M & Ms hording the most revenue with a whopping 75 million in those little candy shapes that melt in your mouth and not in your hands.

I buy bags of candy every week as I grocery shop but oddly enough it is never around to hand out to the little ghosts and goblins that come to our house on the last day of the month and I am scrambling the day before to make an educated guess of how much more candy to buy for the big hand-out night. This time I don’t buy candy that anyone in my house likes—this is strictly Dum Dums and Hot Tamales time.

This year will be especially hard for me. With my daughter living in skater’s paradise in the urban Mecca, and my son “beyond that”, I am left at home to secretly miss the ghosts of Halloweens past.

Maybe some of you are missing the orange and black madness as much as I am because it seems like all ice dancers are Halloween buffs.

How else can you explain the love of dressing up in sequins and spandex and wearing elaborate make-up?

If you want to see the evolution of society in our country go back and look at the Halloween costumes that your kids have worn through the years. Most babies start off as either a pumpkin or a bunny or bear. This evolves into whatever princess is fashionable through Disney or whatever action figure has been promoted by Saturday morning cartoons.

We have a virtual “Stars on Ice” wardrobe at home with Jasmine, Mulan, Mermaids, and Sleeping Beauty. Of course we have coordinating costumes of Aladdin, Mufasa, the Red Power Ranger, Barney and Baby Bop, and a Orange M & M (not sure if the candy company got a piece of that purchase).

The best costume year we had, my daughter wore a skating competition dress and old skates and went as Michelle Kwan/Tara Lapinski, Olympian skater. It cost us nothing extra but seemed a bit over the top as far as Halloween costumes go—I mean what other 8-year old had a five hundred dollar dress on?

But now that she is no longer a “child” I tried to help my daughter come up with a costume idea. Please note she did not ask me to do this but I butted in as mothers are known and expected to do. My first ideas were these great vintage sequined dresses in hot pink and raging red that I have collected—(that is a long story and we better not get distracted with that now). These dresses could go into Motown, Vegas, or a Showgirl theme, but they were given the thumbs down. Without much consideration I might add.

My daughter said she wanted to be a “flight attendant” so I looked on line for a possible source of costume selections for her.

And I was shocked.

What flight school did these attendants graduate from?

I have never been served or assisted in the air by anyone wearing a four inch skirt and jacket with cut-outs.

It thought perhaps I had gone to the wrong website so I clicked out and went to another site that offered fire and police costumes.

Okay, I’m pretty sure that most police officers don’t carry handcuffs with fur on them.

When did Halloween costumes become so sexy?

Where are the pumpkins and ghosts?

How are kids supposed to go from being Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz to Sheena, sex goddess of the jungle when they turn 18?

My daughter told me she was making a costume so I decided not to ask her what it was going to be, as I may now never be able to fly United again and am afraid of destroying more stereotypes.

Since I was filling a little blue without the hope of wandering the sidewalks in a week decked out with flashlight and filled candy sacks, trailing squealing children yelling “Trick or Treat”, I went to my hair stylist for a body wave.

As I sat in the chair under those harsh lights I felt the irony of Halloween upon me after all.

“Don’t you just love those curls?” my hairdresser asked.

Great, I thought. Now I look just like Howard Stern for the holiday season. Hopefully no one will say, “great costume”.

Mombo #9

Datebook: Monday, October 23rd ~ 2006

I hate the part where your kids think they know more than you. Well, I mean aside from the VCR, DVR, and operational components of 20 remote controls.

My daughter has been driving for 2 and one half years, and my son for over a year. Somehow they feel this qualifies them to give information to the National Highway Safety Council.

If my daughter is forced to be in a position to ride with me it is major leg-shaking time. You know what I mean--the crossed legs, the free leg slapping time in annoyance instead of Bobby McGhee. She, of course, selects the music or brings her own CDs in case I might subject her to Toby Keith, Celine Dion, or the soundtrack from “Philadelphia”. Her CDs are typically compilations that she self titles “Sexy” or “Warm-up”. The warm-up is her rendition of my “Sweating to the Oldies” with Richard Simmons; she apparently shares her choices with the skating session during the four or five minutes of stroking. Now I get to listen to Justin Timberlake get sultry and out of breath.

Having her as a passenger is not as pleasant as it used to be, say when she was belted into a car seat with a juice bottle in her mouth. Now, she serves as the commentator for my driving. At a traffic signal she alerts me at the speed of light and sound when the device turns green-that nano of a second apparently adds up and takes away from her time that is needed for more important events, such as plucking her eyebrows or watching reruns of “Grey’s Anatomy”. If we are on the interstate she advises me that I can “get over” although I had no intention of repositioning my car. She also has the habit of leaning over and looking at my speedometer as if it is a cousin to Sleeping Beautie’s mirror and will advise her who is the “Slowest in the Land”.

She is also a human GPS. In her case, this means Girl Pestering System because she rarely knows where she is in actuality—I mean, she knows how to get there unless there is a detour or you ask her what state she is in, and then you just get the rapid blinking, no answer bit. No, the pestering comes from her apparent on-set of psychic abilities that renders her capable of reading other driver’s minds.

“I think that guy behind you wants you to speed up.”

“I think that car behind you wants you to get over so they can go around.”

You can never use humor in these situations.

“Really. Did he have a chili cheese dog for lunch?” is just greeted with a look that questions if she will need to take over the wheel because I have become demented.

My son does not have quite the skill that my daughter has in making me think I should turn in my license. He has another technique. He just won’t ride with me. He finds ways to avoid ever being a passenger, and if that is required he slumps low in the seat so positive identification is impossible. I sense his tension however and wonder if Jeff Gordon’s mother feels the same when Mr. NASCAR drives her to a doctor‘s appointment.

I wouldn’t mind if this sense of superior knowledge extended into other areas, say into toilet bowl cleaning, or dusting. I would love for them to whip the Clorox wand out of my hand in apparent disgust and say “It’s better if you go counter clockwise first!”

But that hasn’t happened yet.

I am dreading the Thanksgiving drive to the aunt’s house with all the suggestions of when to change lanes, which toll booth is faster, and what the guy in the Miata thinks of the time I have had my blinker on.

Maybe we’ll take two cars.

Mombo # 9

Datebook: Thursday, October 19th ~ 2006

Writers note: Mombo #9 will now be published twice a week. New posts will be available on Mondays & Thursdays.

So now it is official. It is less than one month until Sectionals.

This is one of those concepts that bring laughter and tears.

I develop multiple personalities this time of year. I am thrilled that it is finally within a 30 day countdown. I am horrified that it is on the screen of my Blackberry.

I keep hearing about the “off” season and I wonder when that is. If I find out, I swear I will send out Hallmark cards. The season starts the moment Nationals are over (or Worlds). There is new music to find, new programs to choreograph, new costumes to design and have made. Then there is the push to “be ready” for Placid.

After Lake Placid, there are the three months to make changes (unless you are on either of the Gran Prix circuits) until Sectionals and then, if you’re lucky, the seven weeks until Nationals. So when is the off season?

We have not taken a week long family vacation in four years. We are lucky to have Thanksgiving-- Thursday-- not Friday, off. There are no day-after Christmas sales because “you must train.”

This is the time of year we should all be feeling pretty mellow. I mean, the kids are ready; the music is now playing non-stop in your head. You hum it while you are pumping gas. You hear it on the radio and it is now “X & Ys music”. You see another skater using the same music and you think, “Oh, they are skating to Z’s music”.

But, face it, we can’t be mellow. The reason for this is quite simple. Skating elements seem like shifting sand in the hourglass of judging. Why is a level 3 spin suddenly getting level 1 marks when they are doing it better? Then the question that I have asked the gubernatorial candidates to answer in their televised debate (not sure if they will take this on)—Is it better to skate a level 1 element and get plus 2s or risk a level 3 or 4 being downgraded and getting minuses? It is a bit like a tree falling in the forest I’m afraid. Coaches get a bit glassy eyed when you inquire. Maybe in a bonus round of the debate they could speculate on why it “seems”, please note I said “it seems”, the PCS scores can be manipulated much like the old 6.0 system to keep teams where they’re wanted to place.

No, these are not mellow times. In Atlanta, Birmingham, and in the State of Washington we will all face the nemesis in less than 30 days.

There are several ways to ease into this.

Many have tried Pilates and yoga. I personally cannot contemplate putting on black stretch pants and going out in public as a means of stress-relief.

Some have gone for a day of beauty at the Spa. (Just a note to the wise here—if you are getting a full-body massage, find out who your masseuse is before you are lying naked under a warm blanket and “Ronald” walks in to provide muscle relaxation--again, not a stress release). Some have tried hypnosis, but again, I have a bit of a problem with this, mostly due to a comedy show I saw years ago where one of the audience volunteers kept barking like a dog all night—maybe forever, I’m not sure.

I am afraid it is down to the one known aid to stress. And this is a medical fact. Dark Chocolate is a natural stress reducer. That’s right.

It’s going to be a six-pack of Hostess Ho-Hos every week for the next month.

Mombo

Datebook: Monday, October 16th ~ 2006

Although I haven’t seen any official countdowns, I am quite aware it is only about 8 weeks until Christmas.

I don’t say this in anticipation of a sequel to “Elf”, but with the knowledge that I have to buy presents for several people that are “hard to buy for.”

Let’s look at the list.

Two coaches. Each seems to make more than Donald Trump’s son per hour. Each drives a high end “work” car while the spouse drives the small Mercedes. One totes a Michael Kors bag and a Louis Vuitton wallet, while the other sports Burberry and Armani. So, what can I buy them to show how much I appreciate the fact that I get to pay them about 40,000.00 a year with no contracts and no questions asked.

In another world, some people might think the coach should buy the student a personal present, to show his appreciation for having them as cash paying customer all year. But that’s just crazy talk.

So I have to find some thoughtful, heartfelt gift that basically looks expensive, but isn’t too costly, like a Lenox framed photo of their skaters. But, I did that two years ago.

No, this will be an expensive gift year. Remember I have two young adult-children to buy for.
My son is easy. It will be electronic or in the snowboard family, or probably both, and it will be costly.

My daughter will be impossible.

Just her normal daily operating costs are expensive. Example, she blew out her Chi hair straightener last month and it had to be replaced. The real irony of this is that her hair is so straight normally that I think she could do a Pantene commercial. Apparently Chi hair products are the best and can not only straighten hair, but curl it as well, for say, ice dance competitions. This makes it a paradoxical tool. This little gem costs about 150.00 dollars (or one and half Longaberger baskets). Since it is “skating related” it can’t be a gift since skating is her mission or her “job” so to speak. So, her new Chi was like 150.00 of office supplies.

So, I think you see the problem with buying gifts for her. She is small but she likes nice things. And she is known to be, well, let’s just say “selective”. There is no stopping by JC Penneys for a sweater. It would have to be JC-rew.

Her skin is allergic to alloy metals. It must be at least 14K or sterling silver, but even this is like running low-grade gasoline in a hemi-engine. Platinum never causes a rash.

So today, I did order a few items from one or two of the 581 catalogs that come to my house everyday. In case you do not know, Victoria Secrets is having a great sale on shoes and boots. The have the cutest navy blue mini bootie Uggs for 100.00 (page 42)—and a 15.00 dollar off coupon to go with them. Think jeans, winter…I know, hard to pass up and the salesclerk said they were down to their last hundred pair.

Don’t worry. I’m not ruining it for my daughter or adding to the style of her coach.
I bought those for my husband to give to me during the Yule season. Maybe by then he will have forgotten my recent spurge in the shoe department at Macy’s and just appreciate how easy I make his holiday shopping.

Mombo

Datebook: Saturday, October 7th ~ 2006

My husband doesn’t quite understand my shopping methods.

Today I returned a pair of shoes and bought three pair during the exchange.

It is actually very logical. I bought the first pair during a major coupon sale when all the seats were taken and it was so chaotic I think I saw children running with scissors.

Anyway, it is impossible to really be sure about a pair of shoes when you have to battle for a pole position for the little knee to toe fun-house mirror tucked away in the corner.

So I had to bring the shoes home, try them on with my own real stockings instead of those little bank robbery numbers they offer as “complimentary footies”.

In the privacy of my own home, making sure to stay on the carpeted area, I immediately ascertained that the black Anne Klein demi-boots made my lower extremities look like I had cankles-- and swollen cankles at that.

So back I go. This time, in the comfort of a non-coupon day, just regular 15 percent off Tuesdays, I discovered a very attractive Nordic Clog by Clarks. While it might seem true that there would be limited wearing ensembles I immediately envisioned how attractive they would be with any denim item. True, these were not on sale. There are certain items that are excluded from the sale and the list can be obtained from the customer service office.

I also noticed the new “sport” shoes. I do own a pair of sneakers and they are actually several years old. Some might say there is little chance I would ever wear them out, but I prefer to think of it as maintaining my equipment. So, yes, I do own your basic lace-up Nikes, or New Balance, or whatever the brand. But, they are white. Very white.

The new sports shoes have little Velcro straps and look a bit like ballerina slippers, which puts them into a new category of multi-purpose shoe. Easy Spirit has a new line with “gel” insoles and I must say, I can understand those inane commercials after trying it on. I decided to wear the black and silver ones home.

Well, I am a professional woman. It isn’t all fun and games. Sometimes you must restock. In the spring I had attended an ice show where my daughter and her partner were invited to skate. The club was selling tickets for the bleachers or “on the ice” seats. I, wanting to be supportive, bought “on the ice” seats.

The show lasted three hours. After about six and a half minutes I realized the bottoms of my chocolate Ferragamo’s were literary frozen to the mat on the ice. During intermission I went to the pro shop and bought hockey socks and put them OVER my shoes. No help. During curtain calls my daughter took a gander at my footwear and pretended she didn’t know me. The bottom line, no shoe leather should be that thin, even if it is fashionable. There must be some good deals at Goodwill if you don’t mind cold feet.

So, the point is, I waited six months to replace the brown shoes. Since I had to regroup my closet, it makes more sense to restock all at once.

My husband came in from the garage where he performs trash transformations—seriously he seems to do some origami creations with cardboard for the recyclers and asked, “I thought you were taking those shoes back?”

It is not really a question, since he has just made something like swans out of the three shoeboxes.

“I did,” I offered, “but I decided to take your advice and consolidate trips to the store.”

“So you bought three pair of shoes on my advice?”

“Exactly. I probably saved four or five dollars buying all the shoes I needed today instead of going back two more times later.”

Of course he is so humbled by my admission he is speechless and I, well I am just ‘gellin’ in my new ballerina/sport shoes…that also come in brown and beige.

Mombo #9