Rocken' it at the Booksin Ball

So I jacked up my knee again.

While out on a run?, you ask.  I wish.  Pushing my Baby Jogger up a hill? you inquire.  Sadly, not.  While participating in lunges?, to build my non-existent glutious maximus?  Negative.

Did I re-injure my knee at The Booksin Ball after ingesting quite a lot of wine, and channeling my inner "Beyonce" while on the dance floor?  Yes!  Winner, winner, chicken dinner!

I guess getting parallel to the floor isn't so good for the old body.  But let me tell you...I had a GREAT time.  'Til the next morning, when much to my detriment, I hobbled out of my bed like a 98 year old elderly woman.

Tom and I hadn't been out since the babe has been born, so I was more than ready to get glammed up and get my groove on.  BTW, glam is code for:  really short black dress, my Vegas heels, and painting glitter across my eyelids because I think I'm Ke$sha.  Is that even how you spell her name?

I was a bit concerned though, when as we entered, and I saw some women wearing taffeta and sequined ball gowns, and some guys sporting tuxes, like at prom.  WOW.  Perhaps we are under-dressed, I thought.

 But then, it happened.  I turned around, and there before me, was a sight to behold: a 6 foot, 6 inch tall, kilt-wearing man, who was probably pushing 3 bills.  If that dude could sport a skirt, I could most certainly wear my hooker gear.  It was all good.

I loved that there was hair spray readily available in the bath rooms.  I didn't love how there were bottles of wine on the table that we couldn't drink.  Someone else had already purchased this wine.  Well, here's my 2 cents:  DON'T put alcohol on a table where inebriated people co-habitate, 'cause that's just asking for trouble.  I loved the slide show.  I didn't love that I saw the same pictures like 100 times while I was there.  I loved that they had a DJ.  I didn't love how the DJ only had vinyl.  I was really looking forward to dancing to "Raise Your Glass".  No can do.  Dude had shit like, "Say You, Say Me," by Lionel Richie.

I'll be really honest.  I didn't know what to expect that night.  Booksin has a ton of parent volunteers.  I'm talking a TON.   We've got Cornerstone, and BESCA, and Walk-a-Thon peeps.  We've got mama's who volunteer to be coaches, so my girls can participate in an after-school program called Girls on the Run.  These people devote their lives so our school can be an amazing place.

And then there's me:  the lady with all the kids, who just had ANOTHER baby, and makes her girls, gasp, walk across the grass to the car, so she doesn't have to get out.

I guess I was expecting folks to be sorta conservative, and mellow.  But I'll tell you what...even the taffeta and sequined ladies got down on the dance floor.  Come to think of it, so did Kilt-Man.  In  hindsight, it was very good that we said our good-byes before I pulled that dude out on the dance floor to swing me.  'Cause that's sorta where I was headed.

All in all, it was awesome night.  It rocked.  And I'm really glad that Tom and I left before I did something illegal.

Forgotten

It seemed "ironic" to me that each and every time Isabella had a counseling appointment at Kaiser, her twin sister, Abigail, seized the opportunity to flip out in the waiting room.

The first time it happened as I was nursing Charlie, and was brought on by Emma chucking a block at her head, or something of that nature.  The second time it happened, there was a direct correlation to frustration over homework.  And the third time, well, the third time it happened, my eyes were finally opened and I noticed a pattern.

Hmmm, I thought, with all of my mommy intuition (that I seemed to be lacking), I think there may be something going on here with Abby.  Maybe I should get her into the counselor also.  And while we're at it, can Mommy have a mental health check too?

And so it was set.  The next time Bella had an appointment, Abby would join her.  Now the next time, it just so happened, was set to take place the same exact time that baby sister, Charlotte, was due for her 4 month check up and shots.

The great thing about Kaiser, is that everything is located in one place,  more or less.  So, I dropped the twins for counseling, while gathering the youngest 3 kiddos, and walked over to a different building for the babe's appointment.

 I won't lie:  I was filled with a bit of anxiety with this whole fandango, but I got everyone where they needed to be on time.  After leaving Emma in the waiting room to finish her homework, and bringing Cosette with me, I realized that I shoulda switched kids.  Cozy was in my face, in Charlotte's face, and in the Doc's face.  As I looked at the clock, I realized I wasn't even close to happy hour yet.  Damn, and we still have shots to knock out.

I don't know about you, but holding down my infant child, while she gets poked  with needles is NOT my favorite past time.  After Charlie became a human pin cushion, I felt like I barely had time to comfort her, because we had to quickly gather up our things, and walk over to retrieve the twins from their head check.

We made it back into the office just in time for me to nurse my fussy babe.  Just as she latched, the counselor came out, and said, "Michelle, I'm ready for you to come on back."

I'm up for all sorts of challenges, and my main objective at that point, was making it back to her office without having the babe come off my breast.   Don't fret:  I donned the invincible nursing cape.  While giving a  "you better not chuck any blocks at each other, while I'm gone," glance in Cosette and Emma's direction in the waiting room, and a few steps later, I was sitting on her comfy couch.

Almost immediately, Linda asked Abby, "Would you like to share with your mom how you're feeling right now?"

This is the part, as a mom, you gear up to hear how you've failed your child.  And I wasn't disappointed.

"Well Mom," Abby started, eyes rimmed red with tears, "I kind of feel forgotten."

Now I started my bawling session.  After gathering my thoughts, I assured Abby, "Honey, I'm not crying because I'm mad or upset with you.  In fact, I'm so proud that you are able to tell me how you feel.  And I can see how you would feel that way."

It was just that here was a concrete example of yet, another thing, I needed to work on.  Truth be told, out of all the girls, Abby is the one who holds it together, helping out, willingly, when needed at home.  Whether it's changing a diaper, reading Cosette a story, or getting lunches organized for school.  And I, in my own busyness, had taken her for granted.

"Abby, it sounds like your mom has really heard what you're saying," Linda said, glancing at me.  Then seeing my distress, she continued, "Michelle, are you okay?"

"Yes," blubber, blubber, sniff, sniff, "I just feel like it's another thing to work on," Blubber, blubber, snotty nose wipe.

At this point, Charlotte had stopped nursing, and was looking up at me, concern filling her eyes.  It was like my 4 month old was saying, "Mom, is your break down gonna last long?  Because if it's going to affect your milk production, I sort of need to know..."

After Linda convinced me that I'm doing the best I can, which is what counseling is allll about (VALIDATION), Abby and I came up with a solution.  She and I would play a game ALONE.  No sisters.  No interruptions.  Just Abby and me.

And we did.  For the first time in a decade, I played a game with my oldest daughter.  And it was great.  I loved having her all to myself.  I loved not having to run interference with anyone else.  I realized that I had been missing out big time.  Most importantly, we just got to chill together.

What is it that Oprah says?  When you know better, you do better.  Well, this is a concept that I'm striving for, but have hardly perfected yet.  But that's okay.  'Cause last night was Bella's game night with mom.  And tonight is Emma's turn.