Ballet Girl

Here's my homegurl during her audition.  Her severity is inspiring.

P.S.  My homegurl just told me her posture is horrible in this picture, and I shouldn't feel anything close to being inspired. What do I know?

The Upchuck Bus

Last year's bus driver was mean.  My homies would come home everyday with stories about how he'd yell, and when he'd yell, a grey-white foam would collect in the corners of his mouth, and they said they'd stare at his teeth hanging from his gums like butter sticks.

"He doesn't brush his teeth, Mom.  And, he hates kids."
"He doesn't hate you, right?  You two behave, right?" I'd say.
"Oh, yes!" They'd say in unison.

I continued making them ride the bus until one day they came home and told me how the bus driver intentionally slammed on the breaks and made a bunch of the naughty kids fall from their seats onto the black, rubber floor.  I called the district office and complained.  Then I told my homies they didn't have to ride the bus anymore.

But now I miss how convenient the bus makes my life, so I'm making them try it again this year.  After all, I rode the bus, and in exchange I received an invaluable education.  I learned how to say bad words, had my first crush, and got a bus ticket for yelling "Bald Eagle!" out the window to a bald cyclist.  The whole experience put hair on my chest and made me a stronger woman, so on the bus my homies go.

But on yesterday's bus ride things got a little too hairy.  My homies said,

"Guess what?"
"What?"
"We were really late for school."
"What happened?  Did the bus breakdown?" I asked.
"No!" Jacob P. puked his brains out and it stunk up the whole bus.  It smelled like goat cheese, so we rolled down the widows.  Only, the hot air blowing in from the outside made the bus smell even worse."
"What did the bus driver do?"  I asked.
"Well she parked in front of the church and cleaned him up.  Everyone started chanting, 'No school! No school! No school!'"
"So, now you don't want to ride the bus anymore, huh?"  I said.

"No.  We still do.  Tomorrow Zack is bringing his lizard, and he said we could pet him for a quarter."

The Clique

When my homegurl climbs into the car after school, our conversations go like this:

"Who did you hang out with today?"
"Um...Bailey, Elle, and all those girls."
"Any boys?  Like, did you kiss a boy and like it?" I teasingly ask.
"Ewww, Mom! I'm not like that.  Besides,  I don't even have a crush on ANYONE."
"Guess what, Mom?
"What?"
"Maddie quit the B.D.C..."
"What?"  I say in complete horror.

If you're not already aware, the B.D.C is short for the Barbie Doll Crew, a self-titled group of girlfriends who attend Hannah's school.  Their clothes are cute; they're selectively nice to others; and they're totally exclusive.  Our conversation continues.

"Why did Maddie quit?"  I ask.
"She just wants to do her own thing; she gets tired of people easily.  You know, too much drama."
"Hmm..."
"Do you wish you could hang with the B.D.C?  Looks like there's an opening"  I say.
"No way.  We'd have nothing in common."
"What does that mean?"
"They're not like me, Mom."
"What does that mean, Hannah?"
"I don't know, Mom.  I'm done talking about this.
"Where's my Paradise cookie?  You brought me one, right, Mom?"

I've always been so interested in how peer groups form and what criteria determines whether or not a person will belong.  The "cool group" at my high school called themselves the Brat Pack.  Again, like the B.D.C., it was a group of cute girls who really didn't notice anything or anyone on the outside of their predefined group.  Now that I'm an old lady, I realize there wasn't anything going on in their world that wasn't already going on in my own.  But when I was Hannah's age, I was so curious about those girls, and I would go out of my way to talk to them one-on-one, just to see what their secrets were. Why did swarms of girls aspire to be that "cool?" I really wanted to know.

I hope Hannah bypasses the phase of caring about being a part of a supposedly cool girl clique.  Because, seriously, what. a. waste. of. time.  As I add new friends on facebook, who used to be my old friends, I always find myself telling Bryce, "I wish in high school I would have been less attracted to cool and more attracted to interesting.

It's Official

If your child is in Jill Schlessinger's sophomore Honors English at Highland High, I will be his or her new substitute teacher.  The kids adore her, and I'll have big shoes to fill while she's away.  That's why I'm balancing The Complete Works of William Shakespeare on my head.  I'm hoping it will all come back to me through osmosis.  Do you remember your high school teachers saying that to you?

We'll be covering Julius Ceasar, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, and The Crucible, and I can't wait to dig in.  But mostly I cant wait to be around all those high schoolers.  I love watching them interact, and I actually keep a log of things they say to one another.  Just the other day this Justin Bieber look-a-like kid said to me,

"Hey, Mrs. S! Do you hear wedding bells?"
"No, Jarrod."  
"That's funny cuz me and this girl are getting married right now."
"You mean, 'This girl and I are getting married right now.'"
"Yeah, that."

I'd better write that one down.

Just Being Audrey

Have you read this book?  It's adorable; and if you're one of Audrey Hepburn's adoring fans, this children's picture book is for you (so is this UK-based website filled with Hepburn paraphernalia).

Just Being Audrey is about how Audrey has a passion for ballet, but eventually she discovers that she is too tall, and her height will always ruin her chances of becoming a prima ballerina.  So, she decides to become an actress.  But her most favorite job of all is being a mom.  Isn't that sweet?

The real reason I bought four copies of this adorable book is because my homegurl is changing dance studios, and we needed a thank you/parting gift to give to her awesome teachers at Dance Connection Too.  Like Audrey, Hannah wants to be a ballerina, and luckily, I don't think she'll end up being too tall. Thanks to some guidance from my good friend, Brandee (her daughter studied ballet for years), we're off on a new dance adventure at Ballet Etudes.

Don't you just love ballet?  My homegurl will dance in the Nutcracker, Swan Lake, and Cinderella. (Not Black Swan, though, right?)  I even tried on her pointe shoes the other day and tried to do a twirl-jump.  Not so pretty.

P.S.  Please make note of how my homegurl put a little piece of fabric under her costume so her cute little bellybutton wouldn't show.  I didn't even make her do it, because, frankly, I love me a two piece.  Remember, Mi Madre, when I wanted to wear a two piece so bad?  How did you survive me?

Dance for Heidi

OK, chicas, I've been missin' this little blog of mine.  So, to celebrate getting back into the groove of posting, my homegurl and I have put together a little dance for you and Heidi.

OK, this dance is actually for our stake's activity day girls.  They're having a ginorm shindig at our  stake center tomorrow, and I've been practicing the dance we're teaching them all week.  I now have a  bruise the size of a russet potato on my left rear cheek.  It's a deep violet color, and I'm kind of proud of it.  I keep taking a peek at it in the mirror, and I was even debating if I should post a picture so you could see.  But then I thought that might be a titch inappropriate?

Tomorrow I will post videos of the girls doing the dance, all 350 of them.  Also, Chelsea, from Dance Connection Too, choreographed the dance, so I can't take credit for all those smooth moves.  That's why we say "We love you Chelsea" at the very end, in case you were wondering.

So Rude

Tonight mi Amor said he could relate to the man in this commercial, and now my eyes are welling up with tears as I'm typing these words to you.  He's so rude.

In all seriousness, though, I do jibber-jabber on and on about stuff that's inconsequential, just ask mi Madre.  When I was a girl I asked her so many questions and went on and on about nothing, she finally decided to respond with, "I don't know the answer to that question; you tell me."  She knew all those questions were just a front for trapping her ears with the sounds of my incessant voice.

P.S.  Do you know what's even ruder than the sound of my non-stop chitter-chatter? When a girl almost crashes into you because she's checking e-mail on her phone.  So rude! Right, Jill?