My NYC adventure

So for my birthday, I decided to treat myself to an intensive 8-day teacher training program through the American Ballet Theater. The result, assuming I pass the final exam, would be certification to teach Primary through Level3 Ballet. I would be in NYC Friday – the following Saturday, spending each day 9-5 working and studying with other dancers and teachers from around the world. I planned to spend my evenings taking open ballet classes all over the city. I planned to meet up with my 2nd cousin, who works at bar in Chelsea. I planned to meet my long-lost step-cousin that I just met through facebook for a drink. So, things didn’t go quite as planned, BUT I loved every minute of my time in the City. I didn’t make it to a ballet class every night. I didn’t get together with either of my cousins. BUT . . . Here’s what I did do:

1. I ditched the blonde hair at a swanky salon in SOHO and spent a fortune doing so
2. I celebrated my 38th birthday all by myself
3. I was a vegetarian (by accident) for about 6 days – the best carpaccio I’ve had broke my streak – totally worth it.
4. I walked and walked and walked and walked – even more than I should have considering every time I got out of a subway station I had to walk at least a block or 2 before I realized I was walking the wrong way. NOTE – the compass app on my Driod SUCKS!!
5. I learned how to tell the difference between a 2/4 March, a 3/4 Polonaise and a 4/4 time signature all with live accompaniment.
6. I met some really sweet, interesting and talented people and dancers
7. I saw NYC Ballet at Lincoln Center - my 1st time!
8. I drank lots of wine
9. I slept a little bit
10. I spent time with a dear old friend, who thankfully had a trip on Friday to save myself from more wine and no sleep – although the 3 days we did spend together wasn’t enough.

So the January funk is long gone. Now I’m having total NYC withdrawal. I’ve got some new opportunities at work that should bring some welcomed change. I’m hoping to get the one that will allow me to travel a bit more. NYC made me realize I really need to get out more. It’s good for me and everyone around me.

This week it’s back to reality. I’m definitely going back for training next year, but hopefully I’ll get out and about way before then!

New Year: Same Old Me

So it's a brand new year, and I'm waist deep in my annual funk - that's my fat waist! Every since I can remember, this first week of January gets me down. As a kid, I never wanted to go back to school after the long winter break. As an adult, especially since my kids are in school, I never want to go back to work after being off with them for so long. The extra few pounds I always seem to pick up this time of year don't help either. You see, on a 5'2" frame, 5 pounds actually changes your dress size. So at this point, nothing really fits me very well, it's cold and dark outside, I feel like I spent too much money over the holidays, I've exercised maybe twice in the last 4 weeks, and I'm not loving work. Thus the funk.

I have to sign up the kids for summer camp next week. I'm not sure why this has to be done so early in the year, but nevertheless, this adds to my anxiety. Having to dish out 50% of the cost for camp, trying to figure out which week during the summer we'll taking off for "vacation". Then I jump to the if-I-didn't-have-to-work-I wouldn't-have-to-deal-with-dumping-the-kids-in-summer-camp guilt. It's just a painful reminder that I work because I have to and not because I want to. I was so lucky growing up. My mom was home when I got off the bus every day, and I got to have a Spring Break and a Summer Break every year. My kids "get" to go from before care, to school, to after care. And when school's on break, they go to full day camp. I hate that.

I see my kids for a few hours each night and it usually goes something like this . . . "Did you do your homework, good, let me check it. How about you spell that word correctly when you write it since it's typed right there on that page. Can you please hang your coat up and put your water bottle in the sink? No you cannot download that app, no I will not put a canopy on your bed, can you not hang on the dog like that? Can you please sit still and just eat your dinner? Put your dishes in the sink please. OK, 20 more minutes of ICarly and its right to bed. OK it's 8, go up get showered and get to bed. Love you, see you in the morning. What do you want? Go upstairs and do not come down again. Goodnight." It's pathetic, I hate it and I don't think it's going to change. I hope they forgive me someday.

The other half of my funkalicious state is weight and body image related. I started back with Pilates (at least for 5 more once-a-week sessions - thanks, Mom!) I'm also back to my Tuesday night ballet class. But seriously, after seeing myself in the mirrors tonight in class, I may not go back until I lose at least 5 pounds. Right now I'm a disgrace to the art if you ask me. Doesn't help that I also seem to be eating everything in sight. Started out respectfully this morning with my bowl of oatmeal. Lunch was a salad and potato chips. Then I polished off 3 granola bars and some popcorn in the office this afternoon. Also not disastrous, but when I got home from ballet, I raided the brownie pan, had lots of leftover wonton soup, vanilla ice cream and a Hershey bar. Good news is that like every good little manic dieter, I've managed to clear out all the junk food for tomorrow (by eating it!)

I picked up a new book the other day. Actually, thanks to my gadget-loving husband and my new Nook e-reader, I picked up a new e-book. A Course in Weight loss: 21 Spiritual Lessons for Surrendering your Weight Forever. Perhaps this will give me a new perspective on the whole eating debacle.

Sorry this post of all over the place. Money, work, food, exercise. Had to all come to a head someday. All that said, yes I have things I need to work on. They are mostly within my control and I have to choose to commit to change them. I can do it. I just wish it were easier.

Despite my rants, my life is pretty great. I have a wonderful family and great friends that I love very much and who love me for the chubby, working mom that I am. Funk or no funk.

Ms. Minnelli has left the building

After having my bikini wax lady ask me if anyone ever told me I looked like Liza Minnelli, I thought perhaps it was time for a change. So I spent about 3 hours at the salon Thursday and am now a blonde. I wanted platinum, but my hairdresser told me if he "bleached" my hair, it would turn into cat fur. That sounded a bit scary to me and besides, my son is allerigc to cats. So the best he could do was this beige-y blonde that took almost an hour under the dryer to finally get to a color I could live with, for now.

Less than 12 hours after my hair transformation, I had 2 "blonde" moments. Dropped my daughter off at school, only to realize I had forgotten to give her her medicine. Had to head back home and take her back to school. Then I couldn't find my phone and remembered leaving it at the salon the night before. Needless to say I was late for work and logged about 15 extra miles that morning.

2 days into my new look and so far I'm not having any more fun. But both my kids like the new look. Ells told me I look like PINK. She's cool, right?

What the Poop?

Since I started this blog, I haven't really put myself out there, been honest, or self-deprecating - NOT! So let's continue on this journey while I share some of my bathroom neuroses and (as I believe to be) their root cause.

When I was in kindergarten, I pooped in a urinal. Here's how it all went down. Nature called, I got excused from class, after a good 10-15 minutes of trying to remember my teacher's name. Not sure why I couldn't just pull on her pant leg and ask to go. I guess when I was 5 I had more than a modicum of manners that required me to address a teacher by name when requesting leave of the classroom. So I entered the co-ed bathroom with 3 stalls, picked the one farthest from the entrance and discovered this newfangled big-girl toilet. It wasn't the kind of urinal that went all the way to the ground with a big trough or anything. It was a pretty little white wall unit that sat about 2 feet from the floor. I didn't really have time to marvel at the contraption, so I quickly dropped trou' and fit my tiny bottom on the ledge and did what I had to do. Just realized that I used the words "my" "tiny" and "bottom" all together in the same sentence referring to myself - I guess there's a first time for everything! Sorry, back to the business. . . I have no recollection as to whether there was toilet paper in the stall or whether I used it. All I remember is looking down at what I had produced thinking, how it that going to flush properly with all that screening underneath it? Oh well. Not sure how it all went down (no pun intended) I'm guessing it never did - so sorry Mr. Taylor (Ursuline's Janitor at the time). I never copped to it, and no one ever asked me about it. I think I realized I had messed up because I never, ever went back in to that particular stall the rest of the school year.

Funny story, OK. But I think it has traumatized me for life. I have recurring nightmares about using the bathroom. The troublesome themes include lack of privacy, lack of seating and overflowing toilets. Most times, I have to go and enter a public bathroom that looks more like a ladies locker room, with about 20 "toilets" built into wooden frames (think a super-tiny hot tub big enough to just fit your bum). So all the toilets are out in the open. All of them are filled with water, pretty much to the top, and they don't really have seats. So you have to straddle this wooden box and do your business in front of everyone. I never end up actually "going" in my dreams. I just keep looking around for the normal looking toilet with a door, and everyone is looking at me like I'm nuts.

While we're on the issue of privacy why is it that I cannot go #2 in a public bathroom unless the entire bathroom is empty? Please tell me that other women have this same issue. I've talked to my husband about it, and he thinks I'm crazy. He does whatever he needs to do in public bathrooms no matter who's listening or what sounds he's emitting - and he doesn't give it a second thought. When I'm at work and have to go and there's someone in there, I either wait for them to leave and pray no one else enters in the meantime, or I go to another floor that has an empty bathroom. I sometimes try the "go-when-someone-else-is-flushing" method, but the damn commodes at work have a really fast flush. The "go-when-someone's washing their hands" is sometimes adequate. I've even gone so far in a crowded bathroom, where no one's flushing or washing their hands, to create a toilet paper "nest" placed ever-so gently on the top of the water to essentially "catch" my product so as not to make a splash. You have to be careful collecting the toilet paper and if you have one of those squeaky dispensers, or the ones where you can only break off like half a square per tug, it becomes problematic. The ultimate goal is to not only conceal the poop, but conceal the act of concealing the poop.

I'm a professional poop concealer. If you shit in a urinal, you would be too!

P.S. The irony of all this is that in front of my husband or kids - I can do anything and everything on the toilet - no closed doors, sound camouflaging or t.p. nests. They're so lucky aren't they? I do request sometimes to be left alone, but it's really just because it's nice to be able to tell your kids to get away from you without having to feel guilty about it.

The Ink Shot

So here's the final result of months of planning, 4 hours of sitting and several days of discomfort - all worth it. I love my new tattoo!

The Ballet Obsession Continues

I'm still dancing! It's been awhile since 3 consecutive posts have actually been about the same thing. Consistency has never been my strong suit, but since I got my ballet mojo back, it's in full effect and there is NO sign of burn out up ahead!

I found a Tuesday night class that is 90 minutes long and a superb workout both physically and mentally. The teacher is very scientific regarding body placement and technique and really takes the time to explain corrections. I love it when she starts out by saying something like, "Now remember, when you're on stage . . ." Now, no one has told me I'm going to be on stage, but just the fact that she's teaching us like we might be getting out there is pretty awesome. If she taught a class every day, I would find a way to get there.

Saturdays are going well also. Ells is taking her class. She's not in love with it, and I'm pretty sure she'll be in gymnastics by the new year instead, but I gotta give her a couple more weeks, selfishly, to ensure I get my Saturday class in.

Another exciting development . . . I got my Marianna Rhyzkina Kitri tattoo!!! I had my last sitting last week and it is BEAUTIFUL! Completely covers up my former tribal sun tramp stamp and the black and red coloring is exquisite! For those who aren't familiar, Marianna is a verteran ballerina once with the Bolshoi Ballet (great Russian dance company) and Kitri is the lead role in Don Quixote. It's my favorite ballet and I've performed a few variations from Don Quixote in the past. It's one of the few that includes 32 fouette and some interesting allegro that is right up my alley! As soon as I lose another couple of pounds, I'll post a picture - the mini-love handles are not that attractive right now! What's so crazy about getting tattooed is that once you get one, you want more. I am already thinking about getting my next one - the phrase "L'art de ballet choisit le danceur" in script somewhere. It means, "the art of ballet choses the dancer" Ain't that the truth.

I have also found a great pilates instructor that I can visit once a week to help with my turn out and flexibility. She used to work with PA ballet dancers so she knows exactly how to help me. I would like to go more often, but at $65 a pop, and according to my darling husband, that's not going to happen. So I'm asking anyone who wants to get me a Christmas present to call Mara at Vital Pilates and hook me up!

Next week, I'm buying pointe shoes!!!

Gotta Dance!

So I've taken about 4 ballet classes so far. The first class, my feet started cramping up after a few minutes of basic barre exercises. I almost threw up after a sequence of chaine turns.

The good news is, I could do pretty much everything and all the terminology and basic moves came back to me very naturally. I have a perma-grin on my face throughout the whole class, and I even rocked a triple pirouette on Saturday. I've also run into a bunch of people I used to dance with when I was actually really good. I got to see a woman who was in her early twenties when I was a pre-teen dancing way back when. Great to see her still dancing and looking great. Other ladies who "knew me when" have said such sweet things to me about how they love watching me dance, and how great it is to see me again. Does wonders for the ego, and let's face it, whose ego can't use a little boost every once in awhile?

One side effect of all this ballet is now that I'm in a leotard and tights at least once a week in front of a very large mirror with lots of other people, most of whom are smaller than me, the diet is going pretty well. Talk about motivation to look your best!

Here are my beefs (because let's face it, no matter how good things are, I always think they could be better!)

1. Classes are only an hour long. I'm just getting warmed up around the 45 minute mark - wish they were 90 minutes long. I did find out that another school has a 90 minute class on Tuesday nights - I may check it out.
2. Classes are only 3x a week, and realistically, I can only make 1 or 2 at best. Wish I could take one every day. It's hard to make progress while taking class just once a week.
3. I want to be on stage! One of the reasons I love ballet so much is because I crave the performance. So I have to figure out how to get back on stage. Let's take the Nutcracker for instance. The only parts I'm going to get are in the party scene and dammit, I want to be at least a snowflake!! Have to figure this one out. Suggestions are welcomed.

I'm filling in some of my ballet-less nights with yoga, trying to increase my flexibility and get those feet stronger for the pointe shoes!

Sugar Plum Fairy - Here I come!