relocation fun

(Microwave update:  the microwave wasn't broken - a blown fuse was the culprit.  Thought I'd share a bit of good news in case the renovation updates are wearing on you.)

Never thought we'd see the day . . . but here it is - time in our kitchen remodel to refinish the floors on the first floor.  We had to be out of our house yesterday at 8 am.  

I've spent weeks preparing.  Emptying end tables.  Packing up china and crystal.  Relocating STUFF from our study closet.  Moving our temporary kitchen to the basement.  Wanting to pull my hair out.

Of course the crew struggled to pinpoint the day in advance when they would begin the floor.  Late last week they let me know that they could begin this week.  Initially I had hoped that they would kick us out of the house on a Friday, because I don't babysit on Fridays.  Plus the weekend.  But I elected to get it started on Monday rather than wait four days.  No progress for four days - we are too anxious to get this project done for that nonsense.

It was a busy weekend.  Coach and Eddie went to Iowa with friends for a football game on Saturday.  I was thrilled to attend back to back Irish dancing competitions (aka a mind-blowing, time-sucking weekend) with the girls.  Translation:  we weren't home enough to wrap up the packing.  

On Sunday I asked Coach to move furniture into the family room and get the boys to pack a bag to stay at my parents' house.  He and Eddie shoved whatever furniture they could lift into the carpeted family room.  There was still plenty to do when I arrived home from an exhausting day of dancing.  No one had packed a bag.  Shock.  

(sorry I have no new pictures, but I can't add pictures to my blog from my ipad - weird and annoying but true.  Working off my ipad while I am displaced from my home. Use your imagination to grasp all this stuff minus the furniture and the joy of packing it up).

I was beyond tired Sunday night, but I pushed myself to deal with endless piles of crap abandoned after the tables, the piano, and the chairs were yanked out of the room.

My clearing-the-floor project was unpleasant already, so I was overjoyed when Coach started moaning about moving out of our house for 3 days.  It IS true that we intended to vacate the house for a few days in the summer in favor of floor refinishing, but the stars did not align.  Translation:  the renovation work didn't start as scheduled.  Our summer jaunts that were supposed to double as time away for the floors to get refinished didn't double as anything.  

While I was at dancing, Coach brought Reg over to play at our friends' house.  They are also going thru a house makeover.  Coach informed me that his buddy claimed that they would not be leaving their home at all - it was a stipulation in their contract.  Now Coach was looking at me like moving out temporarily was a choice.  I tried to explain that maybe our friends had a tiled entry.  Never-mind his buddy's wife had already told me that they were indeed leaving their house this weekend.  

This led to Coach implying that maybe we just shouldn't have done this project to begin with.  Seriously?  We've been without a kitchen for about 9 weeks, and NOW he acts like this is a mistake.  Because he spent an hour moving furniture?  Because we had to relocate to my folks' house around the corner for 3 nights?  

Honestly, at least my parents' house has a functioning kitchen.  Their home also seems to be devoid of mounds of clutter.  Translation:  I don't want to leave.

Until things got really interesting . . . 

at last, the set

I wasn't surprised that Curly's number was called as a recalled dancer.  Having said that, it's never a sure thing.  My gut filled with butterflies as the woman read thru the numbers, just in case this was going to be one of those surprise fail-to-recall days.  We celebrated her success with a big hug.  A few minutes later her teacher brought her into the hall to review the step she would dance in the last round of Irish Dancing National Championships.

This next round would include a hard shoe dance, called a set dance.  In the first two rounds the dancers shared the stage with other dancers.  This time thru, they wouldn't share the spotlight.  Knowing that this last performance would be a huge focus for the judges, Curly's teacher, Cara Truly, gave Curly a very advanced, complicated set dance.  It was called 'the White Blanket.'  

So . . . like I stated in a previous post, I rarely write about Irish dancing because there is just so much 'splaining to do.  Here's a bit more background on our dancing experience . . .

Our dancing teacher's real name is not Cara Truly.  The word 'Cara' in Gaelic means 'friend'.  I adjusted her name for my blog, because I felt that it was a good fit.

Some or most of my kids have Irish danced for 8 years.  There was a time when I had 5 dancers.  Laddie is our only kid who never Irish danced.  Although switching dancing schools is frowned upon and a difficult road to navigate, we are on our third school.  I have nicknamed our dancing teacher Cara for my blog, because she is a woman who:
     doesn't play favorites,
     doesn't beat around the bush,
     doesn't belittle children,
     doesn't resort to verbal abuse,
     and doesn't cater strictly to parents with deep pockets.
Unfortunately, the other two schools we danced for prior to our current school utilized every one of these awful tactics.  So I will refer to our current, wonderful teacher with the blog name of Cara Truly.  

Yes, this ACTUALLY happened.  A teacher said this exact thing to my three young dancers.  Curly was only 7.  My kids find mean spirited losers far from motivating.  Thus, the new dance school. 

Back in January when Curly began preparing for Nationals, I remember her coming home from a dance class brimming with excitement.  She was getting an awesome set dance. When I came to pick the girls up after the next class, Cara invited me into the studio.  She asked if I had a minute to watch Curly show off her new set.  Another classmate, Emily, who is Curly's age, was pouting because she wanted to be given permission to do the same set as Curly.  Cara knew that Emily couldn't handle it - it was too complicated.  I watched as Curly danced the White Blanket alongside a senior in high school . . . one of the school's most amazing dancers.  When the music stopped, everyone congratulated Curly on how well she was catching on to the new step.

This is a video of Curly dancing part of her White Blanket set just hours before we boarded the plane for New Orleans.  I happened to capture this video of her practice session, because video during competition is not allowed for fear idiot people would video other schools' steps and adapt them to their own school version.   I'm telling you, I've opened Pandora's box sharing some of the Irish dancing nonsense with you.  Just when you thought the world was a normal, rainbow-filled, well-adjusted place to co-exist with other people and teach children about their cultural heritage.  Don't get me started on leg tanning, make-up, and wigs . . . because Irish people are so well known for their deep tans. 

Now that Curly had earned a recall in her under 10 competition, she would get the opportunity to dance her amazing set.  Entire private lessons were dedicated to fine-tuning this set.  I tried to breathe as I forced my young, focused dancer to take a swig of water.  I stood by as Mini taped her shoes in preparations for the stage.  The end was in sight.  I looked forward to reclaiming my nervous system.  With any luck, my sleep patterns would return to normal.  

awaiting the recall list

I asked Curly bright and early that morning how she felt.  She shared that she was just a bit nervous, but mostly excited to dance in National Championships.  It was the morning of July 9th.  The day we had been waiting for.  She was ready.  Lots of classes, private lessons, and at home practicing.  Most nights we had to yell up the stairs and ask her to take her bath and STOP dancing in the bathroom.  We assumed it was just a matter of time before she broke thru the dry walled ceiling and danced right down into the kitchen.  

I was also ready - ready for this day to be done.  Here you can read about a few of my past frustrating experiences, which explain why Irish dancing competitions make me jittery.  OK, so that's a HUGE understatement.  Since I had woken up at 2:30 am unable to fall back to sleep significantly, I was ready too.  I just hoped that Curly would dance her best.  I knew that if she made a mistake or let nerves get the best of her, she'd be disappointed.  She'd been preparing for this competition for months . . . mostly.

Boot.  Bummer.

In early May, Curly ended up in a boot after a possible stress fracture.  Coach explained that stress fractures don't often show up on x-rays.  One night she complained of pain in the top of her foot.  The doc saw nothing on the films, so she put Curly in a boot for three weeks.  She called it a possible stress-reaction.  We were relieved that her boot sentence wasn't longer.  By the end of May she was back at class, and back at pounding away in the privacy of the bathroom before her bath.  We hoped that the three week hiatus from training had healed her and wouldn't interfere with her Nationals performance.  

I keep busy at these big competitions by giving pep talks, forcing bathroom visits, offering smart snacks, suggesting water swigs, making supplies available (like sock glue, tape, scissors, bobby pins), changing shoe laces as necessary, designating warm up time, and keeping the dress clean and ready to zip into just before stage time.  If Coach is present, then I dedicate some of my time outlining the dancing day for him.  Despite the fact that we've been involved with Irish dancing for about 8 years, the aspects of big competitions elude him.  Sigh. 

My bag of tricks:  sock glue, leg tanner, bobby pins, tape, scissors, band aids, tiara, Kleenex, etc. 

Curly danced beautifully in the first two rounds of competition.  Hard shoes.  Done.  Soft shoes.  Done.  Then we waited for hours for the recalled dancers to be announced.  Of the 76 dancers in her competition, the top half would recall.  That meant they would be invited back to dance one more time for the 7 judges.  All recalled dancers would place.  Those not recalled would go home empty handed.

to wig or not to wig?

I woke up at 2:30 in the morning the day Curly was scheduled to Irish dance at National Championships in New Orleans a few weeks ago.  I think part of my problem was that I hadn't eaten my 'regular' stuff.  I'm like an old lady when it comes to my food intake.  I require oatmeal, a salad, a grapefruit, an apple, meat and potatoes, and umpteen glasses of water each day.  Traveling has a nasty habit of interfering with my meal plan.  This boring regiment began when I was diagnosed with Celiac disease.  I have a somewhat realistic fear of surviving hunger pains with no gluten free possibilities available.

I tried to catch up on my dehydration status by drinking water from the sink in the hotel room.  I assume it has something to do with the climate in New Orleans, but the water from the tap was HOT.  No joke.  Making a run to the ice machine in my PJ's wasn't happening.  There were sleeping bodies -that I hoped to keep sleeping - everywhere.  Our system of checking into a hotel room secretly breaking fire code hasn't changed since I wrote about it in:  'Can I be a real kid?'.

Eventually I did snooze for another 30 minutes just before my alarm was set to go off at 5:30 am.  That helped to take the edge off, but I knew the day would be a bit fuzzy for me.

Curly had to be downstairs in the hotel ballroom at the stage by 7 am.  Mini didn't have to be there, but she wanted to help tape Curly's shoes, get her warmed up, and be there for moral support. 

Taped shoes.  This was not even a thing when my kids started dancing.  Who knows what trend they will think of next!

This dancer put sparkles on her eyelids.  Yikes!  Her wig also looked like a Marge Simpson impersonation.  It was SO high!

I got the two of them up once I was ready to go.  We crowded in the bathroom trying not to disturb the sleeping family members strewn across the floor.  Mini showered, both girls ate breakfast, and I attached Curly's wig.  Yes, you read that correctly.  Curly, who looks like she is wearing an Irish dancing wig on any given day thanks to her beautiful head of naturally curly hair, was donning a wig for the competition.

Curly and I agree, her curls are better than fake curls.  Still hard to predict what those damn judges prefer.

Not a great picture, but this is a profile of Curly in a wig and a sparkle dress since she's under 10 now.  Her teacher is holding her face in her hands to congratulate her.

The wigs that these dancers wear are just SO ridiculous looking.  The fake curls are clearly part of a costume.  They can't compare with natural hair.  We feared that Curly would be overlooked by the judges because she looked so different (better- but still different) in her everyday curls.  Like I've said in an earlier post, I avoid blogging much about Irish dancing because it's a lot to explain to everyday people (translation:  mainstream folks who have avoided enrolling their kids in Irish dancing classes), who appreciate everyday curls.

Curly wearing a no-sparkle dress and her own hair!

Last year Curly wore a dress void of any sparkles to Nationals.  In our Midwest region, sparkles are banned until a dancer reaches the under 10 age group.  I'm fine with this restriction, because the dancing dresses can become so over-the-top.  This rule does make it complicated to sell a dress with no sparkles, because it limits who can wear it. Since it is not a national rule, the other dancers in Curly's category at last year's Nationals were able to wear sparkles.  I didn't bother to add bling to Curly's bling-less costume.  I didn't borrow a dress with bling.  I thought she looked great, and I rolled with it.

I must admit that I realized during the competition last year that my eye was naturally drawn to the flashy dresses.  I suppose it is just human nature.  I had to wonder if the judges focused less on Curly because she wasn't 'shiny'.  As much as it goes against my personal beliefs, I convinced Curly that she ought to wear the wig this year to Nationals to be sure she wasn't being overlooked.

Guess how much fun it was to separate her tight curls in order to create several little pony tails under the wig?  The wig gets attached with bobby pins to the little ponies that jut out all over the girl's head.  Poor Curly.  Poor Mommy.

To think, I'm the mom that created this t-shirt for my curly-haired toddler back when her older siblings danced, and she didn't.  Well, not officially.  Curly showed up at every competition sporting this my-mom-hates-wigs original t-shirt.  She hopped around to the music near the stage while her siblings competed. 

Ah, the good 'ole days. 

So reader, do you think I am crazy for covering my kid's gorgeous hair with a wig?

where are my clothes?

I interrupt this stream of consciousness about Irish dancing to share evidence that Tank's laundry issues are officially the worst.  Ever.  

July has been a blur.  We spent the 4th of July at a friend's lake house.  A few days after we came home, we boarded the plane for New Orleans.  Just as I began to catch up on my sleep from that whirlwind trip, I began to pack for our most complicated weekend yet.

Mini and I headed to Milwaukee on Friday night, July 14th.  Mini was scheduled to dance in competitions both Saturday and Sunday.   Coach stayed home, and handled the final conference swim meet duty with Reg and Curly.  That swim meet is an all day event that makes Irish dancing competitions look painless.  Conference IS only once a swim season.  Dancing is constant.  That makes swim team more tolerable.  By a landslide.   

My niece is in a play in Milwaukee every year the same weekend as this Milwaukee Irish dancing competition.  It's an eventful weekend, but we pack it all in.  A swim meet, a dancing competition with a play sandwiched in the middle somewhere.  I let Curly off the hook for dancing, since she JUST competed in Nationals.  She spent Saturday focused on her swim strokes.  My sister, Ann, is driving up to see the play Sunday, and she will deliver Maeve to the play.  

I'm telling you . . . lots of moving parts. 

There's more.  On Monday when we are done dancing, swimming, and play spectating, Coach's siblings, their families, and his parents are all meeting at a resort at a lake in Wisconsin to celebrate his parents' 50th anniversary.  The girls and I will stay over in Milwaukee Sunday night and drive the hour to the resort Monday morning.  

In order for all of this to happen, I had to plan, pack, and prepare.  Sleep at night, and then plan, pack, and prepare some more before I could leave for WI.  There was food that needed to be made, laundry to be done, clothes to be sorted, and stuff that needed to be gathered.  Games, snacks, sunscreen, beach towels, cameras, camera chargers.  The only way I survived the preparations was list making.  

In the midst of my adding items to my list, I reminded the kids of things to pack in their bags.  It was overwhelming for me to get everyone ready to be somewhere when I wouldn't be home for two and a half days before their departure.  I could only hope that Coach would make Reggie add the necessary underwear and socks to his bag.

Oh, the food.  I cleared off two shelves in the fridge and loaded them up with the cold food that Coach needs to pack in our two coolers.  I'm hoping that my post-it notes and large bold faced reminder pages spread across the kitchen table will mean that he doesn't forget anything.  

In the midst of all of this, Tank walks into the kitchen on Friday shortly before he left for the caddy shack.  'Um, do I have clothes somewhere?'  

What!  Like, what?!  The kids will say something like this to me, if there is a laundry basket of clothes tucked away somewhere (like the middle of the family room.  But, hey why would they think to dig thru a basket of clean clothes?).  I will direct them to which basket they might want to start looking in, if they have a missing jersey or pair of jeans.  Sometimes the answer is 'it's in the dryer.'  

This time, though, not the case.  I have been nothing but on top of laundry in hopes that everyone has something decent to pack for the resort.  I wanted all available options - clean and available.  How would it be if the kids had no clean clothes to pack and Coach spent the day in a sweaty gym doing swim team duty, and no one bothered to wash the clothes?  So, Tank's question made smoke come out of my ears.

Photo evidence.  The room Tank shares with Reggie.  Please note that 90% of the items on the floor belong to Tank.  DO YOU HAVE CLOTHES SOMEWHERE?!  The answer is YES, ON THE FLOOR OF YOUR ROOM!!!!  PICK UP YOUR CLEAN LAUNDRY AND PUT THEM AWAY.  

Seriously!

Irish dancing Nationals

Curly qualified to dance in Irish Dancing National Championships back in November.  Nationals are always held the week of July 4th.  This year the annual competition is held in New Orleans.  Curly was scheduled to dance on July 9th.  

Our original plan included taking the entire family to New Orleans . . . in our big 12 -seater, Chevy express van.  Fun.  As the date approached, Coach informed me that it would be almost impossible for him to be away from his clinic for very long.  We had hoped to do a little sight seeing, since we have no plans to return to New Orleans any time soon.  I did some checking, and realized that a few days of touring in addition to the one day devoted to dancing would be sufficient.  

Next we gave the two oldest boys the option of joining us or staying home.  They both opted to remain home.  I suspect the thought of being stuck in a hotel ballroom for an entire day watching Irish dancing sealed the deal there.  

So, we bagged our road-trip idea, and booked flights for the youngest 4 kids and Coach and I.  

Flying sure beats driving!!!

Kids checking out the view from our hotel room in New Orleans.  Fortunately, we did have time to leave the hotel and explore a little. 

It's hard for me to post anything about Irish dancing for a few reasons.  I have lots to say on the subject, so it's difficult to limit myself.  If I assume that my readers know very little about Irish dancing, then where to begin?  There's just lots involved here.  There are many things I like about this expensive past time, but  . . . and I dropped a clue there with 'expensive' -but you probably caught that. . .  then there are loads of reasons why it drives me nuts.  

I love the friendships the kids have developed.  They've certainly learned to be resilient, to be good losers, and on the happy occasion - to be a gracious winner.  Ah, but time and money are always in short supply and Irish dancing gobbles up both (rarely leaving a surplus of either in its wake).  

The big competitions, like Nationals - well, really most competitions in general, gnaw away at my nerves.  I've been a 'dance mom' for so long, you'd think that I would be more relaxed by now.  Nope.  I've been around the block enough to know just how much can go wrong. 

Our experience in New Orleans was no different.  Coach shook his head at me when I groaned about how little sleep I got the night before the dancing.  I'm envious of his ability to relax thru this whole stressful process.   

Like I said, writing about Irish dancing can get lengthy, so I will explain the events in New Orleans in a later post.

stress fracture could lead to other broken bones

Curly came home from Irish dancing class last Wednesday night and informed Coach and I that her foot hurt.  She struggles with tendinitis from time to time, but this was different.  

Since Coach is a physical therapist, I defer these kinds of complaints to him.  I stared at his facial expression from behind the mountain of laundry I was folding.  He looked upset.  'She needs to take a break,' he announced.  

The pain was on the top of her foot.  It hurt when she put weight on the ball of her foot.  'Stress fracture?' I asked.  He gave me a concerned look, 'Possibly.' She iced her foot before she went to bed.  Instead of celebrating that I had sorted and folded several loads of laundry, I felt sick.

Coach insisted it was not an emergency.  No need to get Curly to the doctor the next day.  He suggested that she not dance or play basketball or participate in gym class at school until after she was seen by a doctor.  

Curly thumping around in a boot until she sees the doctor.  

I preferred an immediate doctor visit.  I wanted answers.  If she was going to be stuck in a boot for 6 weeks, I wanted the countdown to begin right away.  Coach reassured me that the boot sentence could start immediately since she wasn't doing anything to aggravate the injury.

Certain times of the year are intense for an Irish dancer.  Back at the Midwest championships over Thanksgiving weekend, Curly placed in the top ten out of around 100 dancers in her age group.  That placement qualified her to dance at the National championships.  National championships are held annually over fourth of July weekend.  This summer they are being held in New Orleans.  

Curly is a natural Irish dancer.  She loves Irish dancing and rarely stands still.  Her dancing teacher gives her steps that are typically reserved for the teenage dancers.  Curly, 'the rock-star', can handle the difficult steps.  When she goes upstairs to take her bath at night, we often yell to her to stop dancing.  I often wonder if this will be the day that her non-stop pounding feet will break through the drywall.   

Last weekend I drove to Milwaukee with the two girls for two days of competitions.  Curly placed first both days.  Mini placed 5th and 2nd in her two competitions, which include three times the number of competitors that Curly's age group does.  Translation:  both girls were smiling on the drive home, which made their mother very happy.  Their trophy collection is begging for us to add another wing onto the house.  

If Curly spends 6 weeks in a boot, she will only be left with two weeks to train for Nationals.  Mini isn't competing in New Orleans, because she didn't qualify at Midwest championships.  Confident Curly assured me that she already knows her steps and she can get ready for Nationals in two weeks.  I'm sure she will do her best, but she will most likely not place as high as she would have if she was focusing for the next 8 weeks on fine tuning her steps.

In the meantime, my friend invited us to their lake house for July 4th if we opt to not travel to New Orleans that week.  I wisely have chosen not to tell my kids about this enticing backup plan.  I fear that one of Curly's siblings will break Curly's good leg as insurance that she won't stand a chance of dancing at Nationals.