Jana Says

Living life from cover to cover

Confessions of a reluctant cheer mom

by Jana 34 Comments

cheering confessionsConfession time. My daughter? Is a cheerleader. 

Take a moment and let that sink in. Especially if you’ve been a longtime (or longish time) reader. Because you know that I’m not about pep and team spirit or even wearing skirts. Glitter I can handle. The rest, though? Not so much. 

But approximately 2 years ago, when we were offering her choices for activities, she said no to all of them. Every. Last. One. And then, out of the blue, she says she wants to cheer. Naturally I was confused as fuck because really? Cheerleading? How on earth did that come up and more specifically, where did she get the idea? Certainly not from me. Or her father. I wanted to say no because what. The. Hell. How can I, of all people, raise a cheerleader. But I love my kid more than I love my stereotypes so I tried to be open minded and signed her up for the introductory classes at the Y and she loved it and showed an aptitude and now, here we are, parents of a competitive cheerleader. 

It’s truly not something I ever thought I’d be. And throughout her first year, I didn’t warm up to it quickly. At all. There were some external reasons I won’t get into but some of it did come from me. But the more we got into it, the more I gave in. And now? You guessed it. I’m a cheer mom.

And I am learning things I never thought I’d learn. Like cheerleading vernacular. Yup. It’s its own thing. Herky and high V and liberty and basket toss and teddy bear and pike jump and all the other words that are now tossed around like a flyer at my house (see what I did there? Flyer? Cheer humor at its finest). While I’m still learning some of the vocabulary, I’m now mostly fluent in cheer. We can put that in the “never thought that’d happen” bucket.

You know what else I know now? How to do cheer hair, which, incidentally, is its own thing (I also know where to buy cheer hair. So if you ever need it, just ask). I was unaware of this and, now that I am, I have a clear understanding of how the hairspray industry stays afloat. Competitive cheerleaders. My daughter used more hairspray during her first season of competition cheer than I have in 37 years of life. And I lived through the 80s and early 90s. That’s a lot of hairspray, folks.

I can totally see my daughter saying this to someone one day.

 As if that’s not enough, I now find myself encouraging her cheering. I look for cheer quotes and crafts on Pinterest. I buy her clothes with cheer stuff on them. I’ve talked to the other moms about buying specifically designed cheer mom t-shirts (and if we can’t get those, I plan to buy the sparkliest shirt I can find). I have opinions on the routines and I make her practice at home. I even find myself volunteering (okay, fine, I’m going to my first volunteer meeting tonight). When my daughter got kicked in the face by her flyer the other night at practice, I told her I was proud that she got her first injury (I have never admitted that I will win mother of the year). But the bottom line is that I’ve become immersed in cheer because I’d be a shitty parent if I didn’t. I love my kid and I support her, even if, deep down in place I don’t talk about at parties, I still don’t get it. 

But despite the fact that I don’t get it, I need to say this: I now realize that cheerleaders truly are athletes who deserve respect rather than mockery. They train and condition their bodies and do shit that really shouldn’t be humanly possible. Even at a young age, they’re lifting their flyers, doing basket tosses, tumbling, jumping, spraining, bruising, and hurting themselves all for the sake of being the best. Cheerleading isn’t just bows, sparkly makeup, and silly chants at football games (and it’s certainly not the crap you see at NFL and NBA games. That shit is simply ridiculous). It’s physically demanding, hours of practice and, at times, emotionally draining, and what impresses me the most is that when those girls get hurt, they keep going. They are badasses to a degree that only gets associated with sports like hockey and football.

I will be the first to say the bitchiness is real. I’ve seen it but typically more from the parents than the cheerleaders (parents are bad sports. Some of the worst I’ve ever seen), which is nice. And there are definitely some stage moms (including me at times. Yeah, I admit it. But if I’m spending all this money, she better work hard). And it does get frustrating when people mock you for having a cheerleader. But to see the look on my daughter’s face, and the happiness she gets at practice, football games, and competitions makes the early morning hours, the seemingly endless competitions filled with painfully loud, nearly identical cheer mixes, the loss of any social life for 6 months, and the constantly having to fend off negative comments and stereotypes about cheerleaders worth it.

So there you have it. I confess that I’m a cheer mom. My 16 year old self would be shocked. But my 37 year old self is proud. 

Linking up with Kathy for the first time in a few weeks.

Vodka and Soda

 

 

 

 

Promises to my friends without kids

by Jana 29 Comments

About a year ago, I wrote a post detailing the frustrations I felt towards some of the statements moms with multiple children make to me, the mom of an only child. It was a ranty post, with shades of anger, but I stand by it. It drives me crazy that motherhood has basically become a competition; competing for the smartest, most accomplished children who are impeccably dressed with perfectly healthy, organic, balanced, and nutritious lunches cut into all sorts of fun shapes that they eat before they spend hours of crafting and playing in their perfectly clean, Pinterest worthy home.

(Which begs the question, who are these mothers? How do they do it? Because I can’t keep up with that, y’all, but I’d really like their secrets.)

And in this game, the more kids you have, the more points you get, effectively making you a better mother. I say that’s all horseshit and not simply because by those standards, I am an epic failure of a mother. I am about as far from a perfect mother as one can get but my kid is happy, healthy, mostly well adjusted (would I really be doing my job if I didn’t give her at least a little bit to talk to a therapist about?), and creative. She also know she is loved. Which is really what matters most.

It makes me sad that we still see our worth in terms of our kids’ successes and accomplishments, and we, as women and mothers, are so competitive about it. And let’s not even discuss how poorly we collectively treat women who don’t have kids (I can’t stand the word “childless” and refrain from using it whenever possible).

And I’d like to change that. Starting with this post.

While I can’t guarantee I’ll be perfect, here are some promises I’m making to my friends without kids:promises

  1. I will not ask you, ever, why you don’t have kids. It’s none of my business, it’s your choice, and I don’t feel that you need to explain yourself to me. We can be friends even if you’re not a parent. I’m a mom but that’s not all I am and we can bond and connect on that level.
  2. I will never ask you when you plan to have them. Same justification as #1. Also, maybe you never plan to have them or you can’t or you simply don’t want them. Actually, you know what? If you don’t want them, and you know you don’t, I commend you for not bowing to any sort of pressure.
  3. I will never tell you your life is incomplete without children. While my life is certainly better because of my daughter, that doesn’t hold true for everyone (well, with their own kids. Not my kid. I’m pretty sure your life is just fine without her). There are plenty of people with fulfilled lives that don’t involve children.
  4. I will do my best not to shove too many pictures of my daughter down your throat. I love her and I think she’s the cutest thing ever but I’m pretty sure you don’t. So if you’ll indulge me for a few minutes, we can put that behind us.
  5. I will do my best not to talk about her all the time and/or bring her up in every conversation. I get that it’s a boring subject. I have other topics to discuss. Like what’s going to happen on the next season of Sons of Anarchy or the amazing recipe for buffalo meatballs I made over the weekend (with buffalo sauce. Not actual buffalo) or the books you’ve been reading. So we can talk about that instead.
  6. I will not judge you for treating your pets like they are your kids. Because I get it. I have pets, too, and they do become your furkids. I will not mock you for dressing them up, sending them to daycare, or taking 84792 pictures and posting them to Instagram. Maybe even though I have a human child, I still do that with my dogs (my cat is another story. She can be kind of an asshole sometimes).
  7. I will try really hard not to be jealous of the fact that you don’t know who Sam and Cat are. Or that you don’t have the theme song to The Haunted Hathaways stuck in your head for days. Or the fact that you have no clue about the “plots” of kids’ shows. 
  8. I will try to refrain from using my kid as an excuse for why I can’t do things with you. Unless I truly don’t want to do something but can’t think of another reason not to do it, in which case using her is fair game. 
  9. And, finally, I will support any and all decisions you make regarding children. I will not offer unsolicited advice on this topic, I will be an ear to listen, and I will completely understand if you choose not to throw (or attend) kid friendly parties. 

And a bonus promise: I will try to never start a sentence with anything on the variation of “Oh, you don’t have kids, you don’t understand”. That’s just a bitchy thing to say.

Friends without kids, I want you in my life. I like you in my life. And I don’t want the fact that I have a child to interfere with our friendship. I will do my best to uphold these promises and in return, I ask you for one thing.

When we’re out together, no matter where we are, please, please let me pee alone. It’s probably the only moment of solitude I’ll get all week. 

 

 

Humpday Confessions: I might or might not be a terrible parent

by Jana 33 Comments

 

Vodka and Soda

It’s time for another round of Humpday Confessions with Kathy at Vodka and Soda. This time, I’m admitting all the crappy things I do as a parent. I’ve had this stuff brewing for awhile and it’s about time I let it all out. Or, take it as a way to feel better about yourself if you are a parent. And, if you’re not, you can take notes on what to do, or what not to do.

It’s not that I’m a bad mother. It’s just that, well, maybe sometimes I do, or don’t do, anything I want. Because I can. It’s a beautiful privilege.

        • Like how when my daughter was about 2 and learning all the animal sounds, I convinced her that every time you see that animal, you have to say hello by making its noise to it. So, if we saw a cow, she’d say “moo”. She’s 7 and still does it and it amuses me. Every. Single. Time.
        • I totally schedule play dates based on whose parents I can tolerate. The more I like the other kid’s parent, the more play dates we have.

 

            • I am not a sit on the floor and play Barbies kind of mom. I’ll play board games, do crafts, bake, read stories. Anything but Barbie. 
            • If I’m really tired and want to nap, I’ll say “let’s watch a movie and you can pick”. Inevitably she’ll pick a terrible, boring movie and I get to nap and she thinks she won because she got extra TV time.
            • She talks constantly. I think every single thought that pops into her head comes out of her mouth. To give myself some quiet during the day (oh, right. I stay home with her), I tell her she has to do her 20 minutes of daily reading at the point in the day I can’t take it anymore.
            • Her sport of choice is cheerleading. I love my daughter. I do not love the cheerleading environment and secretly, and sometimes not so secretly, I mock it. I appreciate the athleticism that goes into competitive cheerleading but cheer moms make dance moms look normal and Bring It On? That shit is real, y’all. And then there’s the whole issue of cheer politics. Insanity.

 

          • Cheerleading irks me so much sometimes that I try to get her to quit. #noshame
          • When it comes to her TV shows, I tell her she’s not allowed to watch shows I don’t like. Like Spongebob. That porous, pineapple living motherfucker can kiss my ass.
          • When people tell me my child is cute or pretty, I never know how to respond. I mean, I respond with “thank you” because what I want to say is “I know” but that seems way too arrogant.
          • When she does or says something mean or snarky or rude, and it’s funny on top, it’s hard to reprimand her. I do but my laughing probably negates the whole thing. And occasionally, I don’t even try.

I could go on but then you’d probably start to think I really am a terrible mother. And maybe that’s okay. But, despite my quirks, she seems to be turning out just fine. At the very least, she’ll have plenty of fodder for her own blog or book. She’ll probably call it “Everything My Mom Did is Wrong but I’m Still Okay. Mostly.”

The economics of inconvenience

by Jana 11 Comments

Pitch Perfect. Perfect for every situation.

Quick update on the house situation: we put in an offer on another house and it that offer was accepted. We have the signed contract, we're scheduling the home inspections and, based on the age of the house, it looks like everything is done correctly and with the proper permits. And we don't think these homeowners lied. So, for now, our impending homelessness has been avoided. That's good news.

However.

We have been so inconvenienced throughout this whole process that it makes me a little sick. Now, please don't misunderstand. The home buying/home selling process is the basic definition of inconvience. Having to keep your house in “show ready” condition all the time is pretty much impossible when you live with a slob, a child and 2 dogs (or whatever the composition of your house may be. Also, I will say that some people have a very lax definition of “show ready”. Many of the houses we looked at were a wreck) so you have to do regular deep cleaning daily. Being called at random times saying potential buyers want to look at your house in the next hour or two is annoying. Living your life at the mercy of your realtor's ability to answer a phone sucks. Driving all over the place, losing numerous evenings and weekends, negotiating contracts, and going out to eat so many times you don't even want to set foot in a restaurant (because you fail to anticipate just how long things take so you don't bring food or snacks) are monster pains in the ass.

But that's expected. Most of it, anyway.

What's not expected is going through all of that and then having to go through all of it again. I haven't put a specific number or dollar figure on how much our inconvenience has cost us but I do know that, as a result of this, we've overspent our budget in a number of categories:

  • Gas. We're moving about 30 minutes south of where we currently live. So every time we had to drive down there, it costs us more money in gas. We have fairly fuel efficient cars but the extra trips definitely add up. At least we can drive in a way that avoids tolls. That's a bonus.
  • A second home inspection. We had money for one. That's it. There's no guarantee we'll get the money we already laid it in a timely fashion so we now have to pay out of pocket. Again. We only have a finite amount of money in savings and because of this nonsense, it's dwindling at an alarmingly rapid pace. And I don't know what it's like in your house, but our money gets spent a lot faster than it gets saved.
  • Time. Okay, this is a bit more difficult to quantify in terms of dollars but, if you ignore how much of our free time has been eaten up, my husband has had to take way more time off from work than he had planned. Like our savings, he only has a finite amount of time off, and we already had to cancel our family vacation. Now we don't even think we can reschedule at any point this year. As for me, I don't have an office job but I am trying to run a mentoring program and do some freelancing. Losing this time is time I've lost to work on both.
  • My child's school. Because we do not currently live at our new address. I have to go through the school choice process in order to enroll my daughter in her assigned school. And the district we are moving into is a gigantic pain in the ass about school choice (how their district rules supersede state law confuses me but whatever). Last week, I drove down to the office to hand in our paperwork. Now I have to call the office, explain what happened, drive down there again to drop off revised paperwork, and let the new school know what's going on. And if choice falls through, the child will have to miss the entire first week of school due to the registration process. At least the school supply list is online.

Given everything, I understand that the situation could be way, way worse. We could have zero dollars in savings. We could have no money in the budget available for extra gas. We could have no time off work or even have found a new house right away. We could have to pay a hotel or temporary apartment if the new sellers didn't agree to our settlement date. We could be back in debt.

So I appreciate the fact that all of this is just an inconvenience. But I never expected an inconvenience to be so damn expensive.

 

10 reasons why CandyLand is the best board game ever

by Jana 2 Comments

 

Candy-Land-Wallpaper-candy-land-2020333-1024-768Board games are a favorite family activity in my house. In fact, as I type this, my daughter asked if we could play PayDay. Which is fun and it teaches about money so there’s actually a purpose (if you’re into that as a selling point). And that’s how we roll in my house.

Seriously, what’s not to like about board games? That’s right. Nothing. Pretty much everything about them is great. Except Monoploy. Monopoly is evil and should be destroyed. We only play it if we feel like fighting because really, who doesn’t need a good fight over a game involving plastic hotels and free parking?

Clearly we do. Because why not.

However, there’s one game that I maintain is better than all the rest. And that game is CandyLand. I mean, you just can’t argue with this logic:

  1. No reading involved. Not even for directions.
  2. Easily converted into a drinking game.
  3. Gingerbread men game pieces.
  4. Super cheap to buy. And you can buy it anywhere, pretty much. I’m fairly certain I saw it at a 7-11 or gas station.
  5. Even if you’re losing the whole time, you can win with the pull of one card.
  6. It’s such a tedious paced game, time slows down. And who doesn’t want to feel in control of time? That’s a kick ass superpower.
  7. So. Many. Pretty. Colors.
  8. The satisfaction of seeing an opponent get stuck in molasses while you hop over them with a double square.
  9. Designed by a woman. Recovering from polio. In 1945.
  10. It’s also in the toy hall of fame (so is the stick. Like an actual stick. From a tree. So you know the standards for induction are crazy high).

So. CandyLand. You can’t beat it.

 

Connect with Me

Subscribe to Jana Says

Jana Says
© 2017 by Jana Says. All Rights Reserved.
Crafted with by sasspurrella designs.