Socal Mom

The Importance of Keeping Your Mouth Shut

I did a bad thing today.

It was at Megan's gym.

It was the last day for the first of the coaches who are leaving this month. The mood in the gym was sad. All of us with daughters who worked with this young woman are happy for her, but sorry to see her go. There was a cake and presents and after the workout, most of us gathered for a good-bye dinner, even though it was late and a school night.

That's not the bad thing I did.

No, my crime was talking too much. One of the boys' team moms -- who has been away for over a week while her son competed at Regionals in Hawaii -- noted her surprise at seeing us there tonight. She had heard all the rumors that we were already gone. And she said she was happy to see we were not.

And that's when the floodgates opened. After our flirtation with the other gym (and the realization that discretion was not possible in this arena), I forgot about being circumspect, and I talked -- honestly and openly -- about our tryout, why we are staying -- and why losing our wonderful coaches prompted me to see if the grass was greener somewhere else.

But I also made some comments about another parent who has been driving me up the wall -- and was not there to defend herself.

If one phone call to a coach at another gym could be immediately communicated to the population at large... I have a feeling this parent already knows exactly what I was saying about her.

I grew up in a very confrontational household. Kids with parents who are always in people's faces either learn to fight back directly -- or become passive-agressive, like me. When this woman started badmouthing our gym to other parents, I should have spoken up. Instead, I crossed my fingers that she would get so fed up with the perceived problems that she would leave. When she began an active campaign to get some of the coaches fired, I defended them -- but did not tell this woman off to her face. She is a drama queen -- and having grown up surrounded by drama, I do all I can to avoid it.

I try very hard to be a nice person. I like most people, and if I don't like someone, I just stay away. In this case, limiting contact isn't really possible. And I'm afraid that the drama I want to avoid will be waiting for me on Friday when Megan is back at the gym. And I deserve it.

A Typical Day in Mom Land

We had a very low-key midweek anniversary dinner at the Northridge Macaroni Grill, allowing us to get home in time to watch the first hour of "American Idol" (Don't tell me how the second hour went -- we'll try to catch that tonight before we see the results show).

There's nothing like being married with children, is there? (Thanks to all who sent us good wishes!)

Today, we're back to normal. I spent the early morning pushing Megan into the shower, out of the bathroom, out of the door so we could get to school, late once again. (Only 10 minutes late this morning; the aftermath of the time change is getting better). We're really lucky that her teacher is always the last one on the yard; we arrived at the gate just as she was leading the class to their room.

I am dreading the mornings next year. It's nice that the middle school is only one block away -- but their school day starts 20 minutes earlier. It's not going to be pretty.

I had to stay at school today to run off and distribute our PTA newsletter, which I edit. Actually, as I cannot function without my latte, I first went to Starbucks to get one for me and another for our PTA president, who, along with her best friend (and the unit's treasurer), helps me do this task each month. Actually, J&J do most of the work. I just kind of bitch and moan about whatever is on my mind. So I feel that plying them with sugary caffeinated drinks is required each month -- otherwise, they might decide to just let me sink or swim all by myself. And I'm not much of a swimmer.

You know the saying, "You can't choose your family?" Well, the same is true of your PTA. For better or for worse, once your child gets settled into a school, you are going to be stuck with the parents of the other kids there. And while I've become very close to several of the other parents here (and like most of the others) -- there are times when they all make me CRAZY. Hence, the bitching and moaning.

So I was surprised when one of these ladies told me they were actually going to MISS me next year when I'm gone. "I'm not even talking about all the work you do here," she said. "We're going to miss being with you."

Aww. That was nice.

But I can guarantee you that's not a universal sentiment.

As we worked, the subject of the PTA's state convention came up. California is a large state; each year they alternate between a site in SoCal and the state capital in Sacramento. This is a Sacramento year, which means there weren't a lot of members volunteering to attend. So I did. As my parents and sister and her family all live up there, it's kind of a treat for me to go and be able to visit with them (on PTA's dime). I had registered over a month ago, but wasn't sure whether they were going to handle the rest of the arrangements or if they wanted me to do it.

In the past, the local PTA district held on to a room block and assigned them to our attendees, but this year, the state organization has everyone doing it on their own online. It's too bad I didn't know that when I first registered to attend, because when I tried to reserve a room today, I discovered that -- two months out -- all of PTA's rooms at the group rate were GONE. 

Having worked as a meeting and convention planner in my pre-mom life (with lots of Sacramento events under my belt), I KNEW better than to wait to book the room. I started checking the host hotels to see what they had at rack rate. Nothing at the Sheraton... but I could get a room at the Hyatt for $300 a night, as long as I prepaid in full. I could see that our PTA officers were not pleased at this -- we have a budget for members to attend (it's sort of a mandatory expense) -- but it's hard to explain to the rank and file membership why you have delegates spending this kind of money on a hotel room.

I checked out the Embassy Suites, which is farther away (not really a hotel I'd care to walk from, especially after dark) and they not only had availability, but it was $80 a night less AND you could reserve and cancel without penalty. So I booked a room there. In the end, it's not a bad idea, as there will be one other mom attending and with an all-suites hotel, if one of us wants to retire early, the other one can stay up later.

We finished the PTA business at 10 and I was off to see about getting my camera repaired. I'm having a hard time with electronics this week -- remember how my husband fried his computer on Friday and I lost my garage door remote on Sunday? Well, my beloved point and shoot camera also died over the weekend. I took it to a camera shop and got the news I pretty much expected: It would cost as much to repair it as it would to buy a new one. If there is such a thing as a rule of three's for electronics, then I hope this is it. I don't want any more stuff breaking for a while!

I had no idea how much I'd come to rely on that little camera until I didn't have it any longer. It's actually driving me a bit nuts to be unable to whip it out and take a quick snap at whatever strikes my fancy.

I went straight to Costco (was planning to go anyway -- really) to see what they had. The nicest one in my budget was one similar to this model. (The one at Costco only had a 10x zoom and from this photo, I think it's smaller. It also cost less than what's quoted here.)

I think I'll spend the rest of the afternoon surfing the web to see if that is the one I want or if there's another that would be better. (If you have any suggestions, send 'em on!)

Meeting of the Space Invaders

Brenda is everything I'm not: She's beautiful, successful and outspoken -- totally unafraid of looking like a fool in front of others. (I suppose the first two attributes make it easier to accomplish the third, but I wouldn't know; not having experienced them myself.)

I like Brenda, but I have to admit that I find her very intimidating. And I'm a little jealous. Neither of which helps me be at my best.

This year, Brenda is serving on our PTA board. She is a very good friend of Betty's, and together they are a formidable duo.

Brenda, Ophelia and I had a pre-semester planning session at Opie's office. I think I may have let on to Opie that I'm not all that enthusiastic about Brenda. It's hard when you can't help but compare yourself to her and are forever coming up short.

But for the most part, everything was cordial. Brenda greeted me with a hug and we engaged in some pleasant chitchat. Opie demonstrated some software she thinks we should use this year, to keep us all on track. Then, it was my turn to show them the redesigned PTA website.

As soon as I started talking, Brenda leaned over.

"Excuse me," she said, "but this is driving me crazy." Then she grabbed my eyeglasses off my face and proceeded to clean them on her blouse. "It's a nice soft polyester," she added, probably having noted the look of -- what? Surprise that someone would violate my space? Or the shame that my glasses were so dirty that someone I hardly know felt she had to clean them for me?

I wondered what Opie thought -- whether I'm the butt of some private joke between everyone because I'm walking around town with smudged eyeglasses. I buy these little Lenscrafters towelettes to clean them with, but often forget to put them in my bag -- and right now, I have about three left. Tried not to think about it. Moved on.

I turned on my notebook computer. It, too, was dusty and Brenda proceeded to clean it off, too.

"I'm sorry. I just have this thing about dust," she said.

I laughed and tried not to feel chastised. It's bad enough that I agonize every time someone comes to the house beause I don't want them to see it in its normal state. It's not that I don't like having a clean house -- I just find housework to be the most boring of all tasks and so it usually ends up at the bottom of my to-do list. Then again, it's a good thing we do invite friends over from time to time or it would never get cleaned.

We actually did do a nice bit of cleaning last week, so I wasn't too nervous when on the spur of the moment, I told Betty she and her kids should come over and use the pool. I figured we would order pizza for the kids, which we did.

What I wasn't prepared for was Betty getting into my kitchen to "help." Going through the fridge, opening cabinets, etc. She doesn't know where I keep anything; I didn't need the help, and it really bothered me. My kitchen is my space and I was surprised at how much I felt that when she was poking around in there.

Or was I worried she'd find something I'd missed in my admittedly hit-and-miss spot cleaning I had done after I realized I was having company that afternoon? Yeah, that probably has something to do with it. But even if I'm being neurotic... is this appropriate? Again, was I overreacting?

You see, I wouldn't dream of snooping through someone else's drawers and cabinets and opening their fridge unless I'm expressly told to do so. I'm also very slow to help when someone really does need help. Maybe because I'm a bit particular about how it should be done (which I know sounds weird after all the posts I've made talking about how much I despise housework, but who said one precludes the other?) -- I don't want to overstep the bounds. I need to ask what someone wants and I only do what I'm told to do. Which probably makes me an unwelcome dinner guest.

Last night, I told my husband how it bothered me when Betty was in the kitchen, and he felt the same way I did. Maybe it's the fact that he's British and tends to want to be very proper with people. Or maybe after 15 years together, he's as crazy as I am.

This afternoon, I told him what Brenda had done and he was outraged. "You should have told her to back off. She could have scratched your screen," he noted.

Yeah. I'm never sure how to clean the laptop screen. There have been a couple of times when I've used one of my eyeglass towelettes and it got too wet and left a spot (which eventually went away). I've tried the cleaners that are supposedly made for laptops and had the same effect. So I have been downright afraid to do more than run a Swiffer cloth on it and that doesn't do much with the electromagnetic field the thing generates.

And OK, I have a higher dust tolerance than most. Definitely more than Brenda.

"I couldn't say that to her," I said. "We were getting along!"

We're having a full PTA meeting tomorrow afternoon. Before I go, I'll be stopping off at Lenscrafters...