Putting the Nasty in Nastia

Molly and I went to the Gymnastics Superstars event last night. It featured Shawn Johnson, Nastia Liuken, as well as the entire men’s 2008 Olympic team. Molly was beside herself with excitement, and so was I! I can still remember how enamored I was with Mary Lou Retton in 1984 and how I would have done anything, anything, to meet my loves-- Bart Conner and Mitch Gaylord. Tim Daggett? Yeah, him too.

Last night’s show was put on by Disney, so I expected a little Disneyfication, but I figured for the most part, it would be watching girls and guys in leotards performing amazing feats on the rings, the beam, etc, just like in the Olympics. The sweat of the gym, bright lights, grunts of exertion, some chalk dust in the air.

I hadn’t seen any commercials for it, so I was unprepared for the pseudo-sexual teenybopper rock aspect of last night’s show. Rather than leotards, the women wore sparkly bikini-like costumes or tiny school-girl skirts paired with thigh high stockings. The men’s team was shirtless with blue jeans (made out of very stretchy material, I presume) and cargo shorts. The lights were low and music blared the whole time.

It was weird to see Shawn Johnson, that beautiful little fireplug of muscles and power, tarted up in mesh and sequins flinging her hair around during her floor routine. Check out Shawn in this clip.

It’s funny b/c I’ve always thought that the Olympic leotards should be much more flattering, but after last night, I’ve changed my tune. Even though some leotards look like a sparkly duck died on the shoulder, and the bottoms tend to creep up during strenuous maneuvers, they lend an air of athleticism rather than voyeurism to the whole scene.

These young men and women are world-class athletes who have trained for years and years to be able to do stuff 99.95% of people could never do. I think their get-ups and gyrating dances took away from this. I mean I could dress up in a skanky outfit and dance with a ribbon. You wouldn’t want to watch me, but still.

Wires came down from the ceiling, transporting the gymnasts upward for a Cirque du Soliel effect. There was an all-girl rock band playing, plus Jordan Pruitt, whom I had never heard of, but Jake says is a Disney rocker he saw on a box of Mac and Cheese last year.

There was a whole Hannah Montana send-up and the male gymnasts dressed up like the Jonas Brothers. Good cross promotion, Disney.

Toward the end, Nastia donned a plain white, conservative leotard and did a floor routine set to “Ave Maria.” It was beautiful, albeit jarring after everything else we had seen up until that point. I couldn’t help but think that last night highlighted the Nasty over the Nastia.

I really believe we all would have enjoyed it just as much if it had been a straightforward gymnastics event. Oh well, the tweens ate it up! It was the best night of Molly’s life and Jake is sad he missed it. Nastia and Shawn looked like they were having a blast, too. Now I need to go get Molly into her Hannah Montana Halloween costume. Go figure.

Thank You For Not Commenting

No, not my readers. I crave YOUR comments. This is for Tom. When I came home today with two mini-scarecrows to put in the pots in front of our house, but I didn’t have time to get milk for our breakfast tomorrow, you may not have noticed.

If you did notice, thank you for keeping quiet about it. You see, Halloween is 2 days away and I wanted to get a little decorating on. I have priorities. Like coming home and blogging about it.

I tend to think that if you had gone to the store for a big box of my favorite Special K and had come home with-- I don’t know…a baseball card-- I might have had a little something to say about it.

Thanks also for not getting ruffled about that little home improvement “To Do” list on the fridge. You know I like to write jobs down so we can have the satisfaction of crossing them off if we ever get to them. Thanks for not taking this as a personal affront to your manhood.

When you’ve asked me to pick up stamps while I’m out, I’m sorry for those times I’ve acted like you are trying to oppress me and all womankind. I guess sometimes a stamp IS just a stamp, and a #2 coffee filter is just a #2 coffee filter.

While we’re at it, thanks for never once, in the 9 ½ years since I quit teaching, ever uttering the words, “But you’re home all day anyway.” Good decision. Good man.

Thank You for Your Support

It’s time to say goodbye to an old friend-- a friend who has seen me through thick and thin and thicker. Through childbirth and nursing and beyond. Through weight fluctuations and mood fluctuations.

Over the years my friend became a bit beaten down and strung out. Others sometimes implied that this friend wasn’t good enough for me anymore and that I should start looking for a replacement. I resented the implication and remained loyal for a few more years. We exercised together, and then quit the gym together-- again. We shared insomnia and late night ice cream runs.

Today, however, was the final straw. My friend failed me in a dramatic way and I just knew I had to look somewhere else for much-needed support. I can now admit it: my favorite bra, dingy and torn, has to go.

If you’ve had kids, you know how your life changes dramatically in so many ways. I’m not even going to get into the physical changes here, some of which do focus in the bra arena, but rather, I'll mention the psychological. The need to be ready to spring into care-giving mode on a moment’s notice changed my habits. Namely, when I had kids, I went from sleeping in the raw to sleeping in a bra, and this comfy cotton number was always my favorite.

I remember a while back Tom asking, “Since when do you sleep with a bra on?” I was like, “Thanks for noticing. This thing hasn’t left my body since 1999." Daytime, nighttime, my bra was the best.

Today I found 3 snazzy yet utilitarian numbers to replace Old Faithful. I hope I’ll like them half as much. Well done, old friend, well done.

Quite the Duds

I am trying to fathom how anyone could spend $150,000 on clothes. In today’s papers Sarah Palin denied that amount, and I hope she’s right, because I just cannot wrap my mind around such a staggering number.

It makes me sick that citizens will pony up huge donations to pay for a candidate’s clothes, or, after an election, to replace the rug in the Oval Office ($30,000-50,000--replaced in EVERY new administration, Republican or Democrat), but would these same people donate as much to address world hunger or eradicate malaria??

Today I went to Wal-Mart to stock up on necessities and I actually found some adorable clothes there. Okay, I know I should consider quality over price, but these were semi-trendy clothes, and I’ll feel a lot better next season when today’s baby doll styles are out if I spent $50 rather than $1500 on them. BTW, is that whole sweatshop thing resolved, or do I need to stop buying clothes at Wal-Mart?

I’m sure Sarah Palin has a Wal-Mart in Wasilla, so if she’s reading this, I’d like to give her an idea of what I got for my $226 today: two birthday gifts, jumbo TP and paper towels, 3 bras, 3 sweaters, one trendy blazer, 5 loaves of bread, English muffins, 8 yogurts, 5 boxes of cereal, hair clips (yep, banana clips), 4 bottles of Acai juice, laundry detergent, canned food, snacks, turkey, cleaning supplies, and a few other items I can’t identify from the receipt but that seemed really important when I was there.

Now I’m not saying that Sarah Palin and other politicians must shop at Wal-Mart, Target, and thrift shops like I do, but, hello, how about giving Ann Taylor or J. Crew a try?

Friday Confession

I'm already on my third round of candy corn for the season. I've gone through 1/2 a bag of Skittles and just opened the Reeses assortment Tom bought for trick or treaters. I hate to think I'll have to make a run to the store on Halloween night, but why should this year be any different?

Dropping the Ball

This morning we ran out of milk. And toilet paper. And tampons. Each of these might not have seemed like a big deal individually, but together they meant a very stressful start to my day.

I liked it when there was someone here all day who made sure we were well-stocked in necessities. When I opened the closet, towers of paper towels greeted me and made me feel secure. She also made sure the house didn’t look like a sty and that we didn’t accidentally put our NetFlix movies in the recycle bin. She bought a lot of Lean Cuisines on sale so I didn't have to eat Candy Corn for lunch. Oh well.

For those of you who have been ably juggling a job, family, and keeping everyone in food and personal care items for years, I salute you. I hope I get better at it.

On Discovering My Son is a KABOB*

I've been a tad stressed about writing because this is my 100th post. A lot of people do something special for their 100th, such as writing 100 things about themselves. I've got squat! So I hope a regular post will do.

I’ve been meaning to share with you an event that Jake, Molly and I attended called Brick Fair. As you know, Jake is a huge Lego fan. On the first day of school when he told the class he wanted to be a Lego designer when he grew up, he said some kids laughed at him. So, when outraged Mommy found out there would be a Lego extravaganza in our town, I took him, hoping to support his passion.

Molly wasn’t psyched to go along, but she rose to the occasion. Thousands, yes thousands, of people lined up around the outside of a hotel waiting to get in. A woman with 3 kids and a stroller smoked in our faces as we waited—thanks Lego Mom! 45 minutes and $30 later we were in and surrounded by AFOL’s.

AFOL’s are Adult Fans of Legos. You see, while this event attracted numerous children, it was really a weekend convention geared to adults who still love to build with Legos. They painstaking planned, assembled, disassembled, transported and reassembled behemoth creations—castles, cities, bridges, a huge American flag, and mythical creatures—so they could share them with fellow AFOL’s and children. There were awesome robots. In one entire room, a huge chain reaction machine involving Legos, pulleys, computers and trains, transported little balls from one place to another. The men (yes, mostly men here) wore headsets and communicated with one another electronically. Jake was in heaven.

Now, I don’t mean to be harsh, but I know that Trekkies and Star Wars fans get mucho grief about how geeky they are. Let’s just say AFOL’s can hold their own in geekdom. While on the one hand I was encouraging Jake to explore his passion and assuring him he never need outgrow his Legos, I also inwardly hoped he wouldn’t become one of the AFOL’s walking around gushing at different creations, taking pictures, wielding an 8” x 8” jumbo Lego-covered name badge with nary a child in sight. I'm hoping he'll at least have a kid as a cover. A few young AFOL couples (matching plastic Lego badges, striped knees socks and overalls, no children) convinced me that Jake can one day find a woman to share his brick building passion.

I did crack up over one dad’s amazing creation—our favorite of Brick Fair. It was a humongous castle complete with secret passages, moats, a dungeon, a chapel, etc. dubbed “Kathryn’s Castle” in honor of his daughter. As he spends thousands of dollars adding to it in his basement, he can just tell his wife he’s doing it for his daughter. Yeah, right Dad.

Oh, AFOL’s are very touchy about, well, touching. Head bent over Lego bricks, no eye contact whatsoever, an AFOL can somehow sense if little fingers are sneaking close to a colorful brick. “Hands off!” they shout, never raising their eyes from their work. Jake already hates it when anyone goes near his Lego creations, so he will be well prepared for this aspect of AFOL-dom.

In all, Brick Fair rocked. I got to feel like a supportive mom, and of course I loved my window into a subculture I heretofore had no idea existed. Jake felt buoyed in the knowledge that he was not alone in his love for all things brick. Molly, well Molly got to get her shopping mojo on by buying a few trinkets for Jake and herself. Tom? He was at the office, which is good since he can’t stand crowds. Next year, however, is his turn. In fact, his mom and dad still have his old box of Legos from childhood, so Tom could still turn into an AFOL and I can be his NLS.



A few terms:

“Adult Fan Of LEGO or AFOL refers to those adult hobbyists who build with or collect LEGO. Quite often these people played with LEGO as children, went through what are called Dark Ages, in which their interest in LEGO waned, but then regained their enthusiasm for the hobby.”

NLSO - Non-LEGO Significant Other: the partners of AFOLs
NLS - Non-LEGO Spouse: like NLSO but requires marriage
NLF - Non-LEGO Friend: other people in the lives of AFOLs
*KABOB - Kid with a Bunch of Bricks