Socal Mom

Remembrance Redux

It's been a while since I've posted anything here. I plead guilty to having to deal with the gear-shifting that occurs whenever school starts - coupled with the demands of a new Virtual Assistant job that I've had to fold into the Jenga of my daily tasks.

I had planned to write a new post today. Well, all week, anyway - elaborating on the movie premiere I attended last Thursday. (A belated public thanks to Plain Jane Mom, who referred the folks at Dove, who invited me.) I hope to have a review of "The Women" on this site tomorrow.

But today is September 11, this generation's day that will live in infamy. So instead of a new post, I'm updating the one I wrote last year. It was one of the first somewhat political posts I'd ever written on this blog (this was months before I dreamed that I would ever be comfortable enough to voice my opinions in print).

Reality Television

There's no rest for the weary in the Schwartz-Mills household.

Well, that's not entirely true. My family understood my jet lagged state on Saturday and Sunday after my incredible week at the Democratic National Convention. My intention was to write up a travel post about the joys of downtown Denver.

Did I do it? Nope.

Monday was Labor Day, and we received an urgent email from my brother-in-law in the United Kingdom. A friend of theirs had just finished the first of two weeks visiting a friend in Los Angeles, and as of then, she hadn't really seen anything. Would we mind showing her around?

Of course we didn't mind! Showing off my city (and its environs) to visitors is one of my favorite past times.

Did I write about it? Nope.

Yesterday was the first day of a new school year and the annual re-shifting of gears from summer time "relaxed" to autumn busy. We spent Tuesday doing our last minute back-to-school shopping (to make up for the fact that I'd spent the previous week in Denver) and hit the ground running yesterday. We were late to school, late to car pool, late to gymnastics and late getting home. And the battle to help my kid keep her life in balance begins anew. In the next few days, I will be making myself known to her counselor, her new teachers, and her new principal as I fight for less homework and (a longshot) a waiver from PE class (the child trains in gymnastics 16-20 hours per week and can probably out-perform her teacher. She needs a study hall; not more physical education).

Have I written my annual Back to School post? Nope.

My new virtual employer was very understanding about my time in Denver and has been really patient with me as I put off printing out mailing labels and writing her web copy and newsletter. I managed to eke out a couple of hours' of work for her this week, but not nearly as much as required.

So what have I been doing with my time?

Mostly, reading and writing emails and posts between my fellow MOMocrats. I thought the pace would settle down once we got back from the DNC, but that was before Senator McCain selected his running mate. Holy Moley. The most interesting election of my adult life is better than anything on Bravo.

The MOMocrats have been live blogging the Republican National Convention. Last night, we made the decision to raise funds for Barack Obama during the live blog... visitors to our site donated a total of $700 to the campaign.

As of now, I think we're live blogging again tonight - but alas, I won't be there. To paraphrase Senator McCain, tonight I am taking off my MOMocrats hat and putting on my SoCal Mom hat to attend the kind of event Los Angeles is known for.

Curious? Watch this space - I will be blogging about it.

If I can break away from the drama of the election.

It Was an Amazing Week

Updated August 30th. I've amended this post to reflect the fact that I DID see Hillary's speech - and was very impressed with it (That speech was on Tuesday - not Monday, the night I missed everything). I guess I was so tired yesterday afternoon that I was having trouble remembering my own timeline.

I feel jet lagged – five nights w/just a couple of hours’ sleep will do that to you.

It was AMAZING to be at the Democratic National Convention… but I have to say that I missed more of the event than I got to see! Our press credential allowed just one person to be on the floor plus two on the perimeter at any time and we had to share those passes among ten women.

Our first night there, we got caught in a riot so missed Hillary’s speech that night's speeches. I watched the second night on CSPAN alone in my room.

I finally got my turn at Pepsi Center on Wednesday, but couldn’t find the blogger room until just before Bill Clinton came on and it was full and they wouldn’t let me in and the deal had been that another member of the team would take the floor pass to see Biden, but then I couldn’t find the media tent where the blogger lounge was (there were five tents around the Pepsi Center).  I got there just as Bill finished. I advised her to get her spot in the blogger room asap and told her where it was.

And then, just as Beau Biden started his speech, I started having technical difficulties with the internet connection and was dealing with that and ended up missing the rest of the evening’s speeches. So it was VERY FRUSTRATING.

Last night at Invesco, our press section faced the network news setups, so we couldn’t see the stage and had to watch everything on the JumboTron. But it was very exciting to be there and I think I got some good photos (have not had a chance to look at them yet).

Checking In Before I Go

Has it really been a week since my last post?

I've had periods before when my appearances at SoCal Mom were sparse, but that usually means that I've been busy writing posts elsewhere.

This week is different. My time has been dominated by preparations for the MOMocrats to attend the Democratic National Convention, doing car pool duty to and from Megan's new gym, administering the blog for my sister's company and completing virtual assistant tasks for my new employer.

I've had no time to write on any of the blogs I contribute to, including my own. My brain is so scattered, I feel like I can't even think. I definitely feel incapable of stringing my words together into coherent ideas.

And yet, there's a lot on my mind. Two days ago, I was shocked to learn of the sudden death of Congresswoman Stephanie Tubbs Jones. She was going to be a speaker at one of the events I'll be attending next week in Denver, and I'd been looking forward to hearing her.

That night, I received the sad news that a woman I'd known from our elementary school PTA is in the final stages of a cancer she's been valiantly fighting for years.

These sad events affect me a lot more than they would have 20 years ago. Maybe it's because I'm no longer young and I finally understand that I'm not going to live forever. Of course, everyone KNOWS that. But when I was in my 20's and 30's, my first reaction when I hear of someone dying of a brain hemorrhage or contracting cancer is "That's not going to happen to me" -- or at least, "That's not a danger to me for many years."

Many years have passed. And my mantra now is "There but for the grace of God go I."

I have no business flying to Denver on Sunday and leaving my family for a week. Megan's Bat Mitzvah training begins on Tuesday; I am missing a parent orientation. Her gymnastics trainings moves to afternoons and evenings - I am relying on others to get her there after watching her all day. It's going to cost me quite a bit of money out of pocket at a time when I've been trying to cut DOWN on expenses (an exercise that's not going all that well - hence, taking on the VA job with the beauty company).

But life is short. You can spend all your time on "shoulds" and "should nots," but when you have the opportunity to be part of something so much bigger than yourself, and witness history while you are at it... I just think you need to grab that opportunity and I think you need to run with it.

I'll see you here next month.

A Neglected List Gets Longer

One might have known from yesterday's post that I didn't FEEL like doing any of the tasks on my to do list.

That doesn't mean I intended to do NOTHING all day.

But that's what happened.

When we got to the gym, I was surprised to see a number of old friends there: Megan's old coach and some families who had left our old gym and were now trying out this one. So I spent the morning and early afternoon visiting with them.

I only felt a little bit guilty.

The afternoon was interesting. The mother of another new team member had invited all the girls to go with them to the beach. Actually, she invited them to come to their HOME at the beach. She's a smart woman; she knows that the quickest way to get the girls to feel like a TEAM is to get them socializing immediately. And if your house happens to be in Malibu, chances are that people will not hesitate to accept your invitation.

Of course, I had just met this woman. She was very friendly and nice and has three other daughters. She and her husband are responsible enough to afford some of the priciest real estate in the city. And she said she had experience working as a lifeguard. But that doesn't mean I can trust her with MY daughter. So I let Megan go off with them in their Lexus SUV...and I followed. I figured I could leave her off and then just go to a Malibu Starbucks and catch up on a little work there.

But I didn't. I was at THE BEACH. And the other mom turned out to be just as nice and friendly as she appeared to be at the gym. The girls had a great time playing in the water. And I enjoyed getting to know this new family better.

So around dinner time, I grabbed my daughter and drove back to my modest little 1961 ranch house in the Valley. I figured I could at least answer some email in the evening.

But my husband greeted me with the news that Time Warner was doing some maintenance in our area and our Internet was down and would remain down for several hours.

I'm not too heartbroken over playing hooky yesterday. But that damned list is looking might long right now.

But I didn't

Because I Need to Cross Something Off the List

I feel like I've been scattered to the wind.

No matter how hard I try, I can't shorten my To Do list.

I have more tasks than ever to perform, yet I'm doing less and less.

So, in the hope of crossing ONE ITEM off, I am dashing off this post while I wait for Mary Ellen to arrive with her daughter so I can drive them to gym.

We are getting used to the new routine: new place, new drive, new people. The moms at the Ventura County gym are disconcertingly Republican and blonde, but so far, everyone's been nice. The girls were invited by another of their new teammates to come hang out at her family's house on the beach after gym this afternoon, so we will be home late. (It's too far for me NOT to come along and besides, I've just met the girl and her mother and they SEEM nice, but neither Mary Ellen nor I are ready to let them go without one of us in attendance).

And I've been busy with my new virtual assistant gig. My employer does understand that I want to shift the work I do for her to times when I don't need as much brain power... however, this week she's giving me some tasks that do require a bit more effort than creating mailing labels. So I plan to tackle that while the girls work out.

And then there's my sister's latent business blog, which I've given short attention to. Need to get my act together there.

I owe posts to LA Moms Blog and 50 Something Moms. And I can't remember the last time I did something over at MOMocrats. Plus, I leave for the Democratic Convention in a little over a week and need to shop for clothes (I need a new wardrobe after shedding weight last year).

I'm already tired.

In Praise of Community

Moving Megan to a new gym took a toll on my emotions in ways I did not anticipate. I heard through the grapevine that the girls she left behind cried when they found out we had left. I was feeling pretty sad about leaving them, too.

I also heard of other repercussions from our departure, and that some folks had printed out posts from this blog and was making a case that I was being hurtful to the other families by writing about my own struggles and frustrations with my daughter's experiences in the sport.

I spent a great deal of time last week poring over every post I'd ever written about gymnastics, trying to decide if there was indeed anything in here that was in any way slanderous or untrue. This is time that I should have devoted to about a dozen other matters that I need to attend to before I join the MOMocrats in Denver for the Democratic National Convention.

My husband wasn't sympathetic. "I've told you repeatedly, you're going to get in trouble if you write about people you know," he said.

I know. I try to be discrete. I try not to be hurtful. I aim to be informative and funny rather than controversial. But I do not live in a vacuum, and frankly, if I did -- with no family members to boast or worry about, no friends to support, no PTA acquaintances to irritate me -- I'd have no reason to keep a blog (except maybe to complain about how lonely and bored I was). But every so often, something I've blogged manages to upset someone, and I find myself wondering if I shouldn't just quit. 

The thing is, I am part of several communities: The real ones, like my city, my neighborhood, my daughter's school, and her gym... and virtual ones, made up of people I know through this blog and others I participate in. Of course, now that I've been to gatherings like BlogHer and have actually MET many of the friends I first knew only online, it's hard to differentiate between the two.

I wasn't the only one dealing with blogging troubles last week. Several prominent bloggers got embroiled in another online controversy (similar to the "real world" ones I keep finding myself sucked into). Things were said, comments were pulled and feelings were hurt as several people weighed in on one side or the other.

Thank goodness I had the People magazine thing to distract me! Without something good happening in my life, I don't think I would have slept at all last week.

This was an impetus for my friend Jenn, who wrote a piece on the BlogHer site about the mom blogger community - what it is and what it takes to be part of it. (Do read it - not because Jenn was kind enough to quote me, but for the comments.)

I have mentioned in the past how envious I am of the mom bloggers who live up in Northern California, because they seem to have turned their online community into real world friendships. That's why I jumped at the opportunity to contribute to the brand-new Los Angeles Moms Blog. And yesterday, we took a major step in creating our OWN real world community, with a get-together at the home of the amazing Jessica Gottlieb (who I have a girl crush on because she has perfect legs and hair and a beautiful house and is funnier and smarter than I).

And I remembered why I keep on doing this: I love hanging out with smart, funny, articulate women. And when they are all women who blog, there's never a lull in the conversation.

I got to meet Florinda when she arrived at my house to carpool down together. We've known each other via comment and email for nearly a year, so we picked up as if we'd been friends for ages.

Kim and I both attended the blogger event at Sea World. She came late to the party because she was delivering a home-cooked meal to the family of Vicki Forman, who lost their son last month. Kim is not only compassionate and beautiful, but she makes a killer blueberry martini.

Karen is a gorgeous "recovering attorney" who looks at least 10 years younger than she claims she is and bakes the best "6 Minute" chocolate cake ever recipe here.   Nina is also too gorgeous for words, and actually IS young enough to be my daughter (which would make me a grandmother, as she has two young children of her own).

Liz, Sarah and Sweat Pants Mom both share my wonder at the craziness that is Los Angeles.

And of course, we have show business professionals: Amy, and Anna, professional comedy writers and performers (and they are hysterical).

Silicon Valley Moms co-founder Beth Blecherman (who I want to be when I grow up) arranged to be down in Los Angeles for our little gathering, which consisted of just about half the terrific bloggers she and her partners have assembled for our awesome Los Angeles collaborative.

Brangelina's Babies and Me

This week, I am enjoying my 15 minutes of fame: If you turn to page 128 of this week's People magazine, you will find a picture of ME, standing in front of my Wii Fit.

At least, I think that's what you'll see, because I haven't been able to get my hands on the issue yet. The reporter who interviewed me let me know last week that the article was on the publication schedule, but it's been postponed a few times before, so I wasn't holding my breath. (The interview and photos were done back in May!) Besides, I thought the magazine might send me an advance copy when it was published. Silly me.

So when I saw this cover at the supermarket on Monday, I didn't bother picking it up. And yesterday, when I discovered the article was out (because I received an interview request from a British news agency), I went looking for a copy ... and came up empty-handed. My husband went to seven different stores last night - couldn't find it. And I tried again this morning. No go.

One of my friends at Nintendo told me she had to visit a couple of stores to find hers, because this issue is selling out. "This will probably be their biggest seller of the year," she said. "EVERYBODY is going to see it!"

Everybody but me, apparently.

C'est la vie. My mom and dad and sister in Sacramento tell me the photos came out great. My niece called from her job at the entertainment law firm to tell me she was reading it there. I've gotten congratulation emails and tweets from friends all over the country -- and even heard from a former co-worker I haven't seen in 30 years.

I am going to assume that there's nothing in the piece that I would find embarrassing, other than the photos I sent, showing how very bad I looked before I lost 56 pounds.

So how does one get one's picture in one of the country's most popular general interest magazines?

It helps to have lost a significant amount of weight. Thailan Pham, the very nice writer who interviewed me, seems to be on People's weight loss beat. She had just finished the story on folks who'd lost 100 pounds each. I think those cover stories sell nearly as much as the ones with celebrity babies.

It also helps to have friends at a company like Nintendo. My PR contacts there knew that I had been on a weight loss program, and asked me if, by any chance, I'd used the Wii as part of my fitness regimen. And I had -- the counselors at the weight loss clinic I used wanted me to spend 45 minutes a day doing light exercise... and I wanted to avoid it.

Well, that's not entirely true. I knew I needed to change my lifestyle, and that included becoming more active. But it was summer. And it was hot. And smoggy. And I was busy. Walking outdoors was NOT appealing, especially in my hillside neighborhood.

So early on in the program, I fired up my Wii and practiced my tennis, then turned to boxing, which actually had me working up a sweat.

I soon realized that boxing on the Wii was not going to cut it as a daily exercise regimen. I joined a health club and hired a personal trainer to force me to get fit. I did supplement that with occasional play on the Wii on days I couldn't make it to the gym.

I actually benefited a lot more from another Nintendo product: I was addicted to puzzle games on my little handheld DS, and I discovered that playing them at night while watching TV broke me of my night feeding habit -- which made it easier to stick to my 600-calorie a day diet.

It wasn't much, but Nintendo thought it was good enough to pitch me to People. Thailan contacted me, we exchanged information and then -- nothing happened. I forgot all about it.

Until a couple of months later, when Thailan emailed me again. This time, we set up a phone interview. We spent about an hour talking about my life, how I gained all that extra weight (having a child at the age of 40 is probably not the best way to keep slim and trim), what prompted me to finally take the steps to lose it, my dieting misfires, my dieting tips, my favorite low calorie recipes, etc., etc., etc.

Thailan could not guarantee that the story would get into the magazine, but it seemed more of a sure thing when I got a call from People's photo editor. Olga Camacho wanted to set up a shoot at my house, ASAP.

Uh-huh. Have any of you ever SEEN my house?

Of course not. But you've read my complaints about my deficient skills as a homemaker. There was no way I was going to allow a photographer from People magazine in there without an emergency weekend visit from Merry Maids. Olga seemed disappointed that I couldn't do the shoot until Monday, but that's the way it had to be.

Olga's call was followed by one from Kevin, the stylist. That's right -- I had my very own red carpet stylist, and professional makeup and hair. The photo agency also sent a catered breakfast, which I  couldn't eat, because that was one of the days when I have to eat nothing but awful weight clinic food -- but the breakfast wasn't really for me anyway... it was for the photographer, her assistant, the stylist, and the woman who did my makeup and hair.

Kevin wheeled in a rack with several changes of clothes. They wanted a couple of me in workout gear, in front of the TV (including a shot with these cute pink boxing gloves, which I wanted to keep). They also wanted one of me dressed up, and possibly a shot in nicely fitting jeans.

When Kevin told me that over the phone, I realized that the size 2 Luckys I'd been wearing were now a bit loose, so I went out and bought a 0. Yes, I know how obnoxious that sounds -- the jeans I wear on my "fat days" are a 2. It's also an illustration of how clothing manufacturers have played with sizes to sell their products to us. Who doesn't love wearing something labeled with a small size? In my opinion, a size 0 shouldn't even exist - it's stupid. And even though I lost 56 pounds, I am NOT skinny. I have short, fat little "duck legs" (my husband's description of them), which I warned Kevin about.

I suppose that's why he brought me a pair of Spanx to wear under my workout clothes in the People shots. I never tried them before -- they wouldn't have done me much good when I was 184 pounds. But now -- I like 'em. I bought a pair of my own to wear at BlogHer.

The crew from People arrived at my house promptly at 9:00 a.m. and stayed until noon. I thought the photographer was going to have a heart attack when she discovered that my small, 1961 house still has several walls of mirrors left over from a previous owner. I hated them when we first moved in, but realized that they truly did make my tiny home seem bigger than it is and I barely notice them any more. However, it did limit her setup. A lot of furniture was rearranged so they could get a shot of me in front of my television without getting a reflection.

At one point during one of my changes, I glanced at myself in the mirror and was shocked at how pretty I looked after having my makeup and hair done by someone who customarily works on TV and movie stars. I have never looked that good in my life. I desperately wished I had somewhere nice to go that night so I could take advantage of it. (But it was a Monday -- I would spend the rest of the day chauffeuring my daughter between school and gym and then back home again.)

She set up again outside my home for the shot of me in street clothes. She didn't like any of the dresses Kevin had brought for me to wear (the colors didn't work with my skin tone). Neither one of them cared for any of my own shoes (I tend to buy for comfort instead of style). Kevin finally paired my jeans with a beautiful blouse and some red pumps. We took the final shots, everyone left -- and that was it.

I heard from Thailan from time to time to tell me the article was scheduled to be published - and then to tell me it was out of the magazine. So finding out about it yesterday was more of a surprise than you would think. And now that everyone has seen it but me -- I have to go find a copy of my own!

(Since I wrote this post, a friend kindly emailed me a PDF of the article -- and I found plenty of magazines at a market near my daughter's new gym in Ventura County. I picked up five, which is a good thing, as my friend who lives in Malibu told me she can't find one in her neighborhood either.)

Psst! Wanna Help a MOMocrat?

So here's the deal:

By some crazy twist of fate, I have been welcomed into a group of amazing, caring, smart and funny political moms... and we have managed to obtain a press credential at the Democratic National Convention this month and we will be blogging it as only a group of political mom bloggers can.

It's an incredible honor. But it will also be incredibly expensive. We don't have a big parent company funding us. We are on our own.

That's where you come in! Friends and readers of MOMocrats have donated what they can to help us defray some of our costs via the ChipIn widget you see on my sidebar. And this week, we are taking the fundraising skills we've honed at our churches, scout troops and PTA's: We are holding a sale -- and we're doing it online!

The items 26 bags of quality swag (so THAT'S what we do with all the stuff those PR people send us). Tickets in the Help a Mama-Swag-O-Rama are just $3 each, with a minimum donation of $6. That investment could get YOU a valuable, swaggy prize. Check them out here.

But if you don't see anything you like and still want to help, please consider Chipping In - If you send us a donation of $25, we'll reward you with a nifty MOMocrats bumper sticker.

Thank you for your support!

A Fresh Start

This was Megan's official first day at a new gym, and a new chapter for the Mills family.

Note that I referred to the life of our family. That's because gymnastics is all-consuming. The children may be the athletes doing the work, but the parents are the ones who take them there, look out for them, volunteer for the team, work at the meets, deal with the coaches, deal with the other parents... and pay the bills. The child has little time for social activities outside of gym. And if the child athlete has siblings, they either wind up also doing gymnastics, or find that their own lives are bent around the demands of their gymnast brother or sister.

Young athletes train hard, but they can't achieve their success without major support and sacrifice of their families. I'll be thinking of that next week while I watch the Beijing Olympics.

For the last five years, my daughter has been training at a gym that's close to home. She's made some wonderful friends there, and we've become close with many of the other team families.

But this last year at the gym has been tumultuous for my daughter and for me. When a handful of coaches all left at the same time, I felt that it was time for us to move on, too. My daughter did not agree. She was not ready.

We stayed.

But I've been worried about her. A few years ago, we could not pass a park or a beach or even a patch of grass without Megan breaking out into spontaneous flips. No longer.

I chalked it up to the fact that she's older, she puts in more hours at gym, she doesn't have the need to show off in her spare time.

But -- the truth is, I think she had lost her joy for the sport. And when she insisted that she just wanted to get to the optional level and quit -- well, it didn't sound right to me. If that is what she wants to do, that's fine. But I wondered if maybe she was just in a rut -- just needed a change.

This week, we made that change. The new place is 35 miles away from our home, which will be a bit of a hardship with the cost of gas (and the fact that I have been trying to limit the miles I put on my leased car).

But the gym is only two years old. The building and equipment are all clean and new. The air conditioning works. The coaches are young and while they lead the kids in a tough workout, they also know how to have fun -- which is an element I feel my daughter's training has lacked for a long time.

When you spend 16 or 20 or 25 hours a week doing something -- it had better be something you enjoy... especially if you're a kid.

My daughter gets a lot of enjoyment out of being with her teammates. She loves most of her coaches. They have a real bond. That bond is what always kept her from letting me talk to her about making a move, even when she was upset about the way things were going.

The last year has been hard on her. It's been hard on me. I think the turning point came when she returned home from the California State Games, where she finished first place all around for her level and age... and she was told it wasn't good enough.

She was upset and I was upset for her. But she wouldn't let me talk to anyone about it. Instead, I let my frustration out in a tweet... and someone left me a message about this gym I'd never heard of (because it's 35 miles away). One of the coaches who left our gym last year was going to be working here. I thought it was worth checking out.

When my daughter saw this new gym, for the first time, she let me know she would consider a change.

But when push came to shove, she refused to make the decision to leave on her own, because she hated the idea of leaving her teammates. I told her I thought this was something we should just do now so we could make a clean break before the start of the new season. She listened and nodded and said OK. Now she could tell her friends it was MY idea.

And once we decided, she seemed happy.

I have no illusions. I know that nothing is perfect. I am feeling sad tonight, wistful about saying goodbye to a place that felt like part of the family. I'm wondering if I made the right decision.

You can't run away from your problems. The new gym won't be perfect. I won't agree with everything her new coaches do. I won't get along with all the parents.

I know that the less-than-ideal situations I complain about now will likely be replaced by new ones.

But that word-- "new" -- is very powerful.

And then I think of what I saw over the weekend when we were at the beach. I watched my daughter run on the sand... and suddenly break out into cartwheels.

It was the most beautiful thing I've seen in a very long time.