For my birthday this year, my gift from the hubs was to sign up for dance lessons, something I’ve wanted to do for years. Madeline started at a studio this year and they offer tap and jazz for adults. Well, I decided to start small and just add the jazz, plus a zumba class for good measure. My ulterior motive, aside from wanting to dance again, is to lose weight in the process.

I dusted off my jazz shoes from junior high and headed to my first class, both nervous and excited. I loved that we did ab and leg work before getting into the dancing. (Well, at the time, I didn’t love it, but I know it’s good for me.) The floor work (going across the floor in twos doing a simple step like a pas de bourre) was fun as well, once I got over the whole class watching what I was doing. Then came the choreography. Important note – the class actually started a month before, so I was starting late. The class reviewed the new steps from last week, and I was able to mostly catch on. Then they took it from the top.

The inner monologue in my head went something like this: “Okay, I can do that. Okay, got it. Got it. Wait, what the? Oh crap. I’m screwed.” I was desperately trying to hold on to the excitement of dancing again and fight the urge to run out the door. Then it got worse. They said, “you’re gonna be in the show right?” Wait, show? The spring recital, right? Surely I can catch on by then. But, no. The show is in early December. I gotta say, I left that first class feeling a little deflated.

But the good news is I practiced all week and our teacher was nice enough to come in early the next week to review all the steps. Yesterday, before my third class, I did the routine through twice with no mistakes. Is it perfectly polished? No. Do I have a lot of work to do before the show? Absolutely. But now I know going back to class was a good idea and I’m hopeful I can get through the performance without embarassing myself.

I got my new driver’s license in the mail yesterday and I realized two things – my picture I took at 23 will be my license picture until I’m 34, and I’ve now lived in California for more than five years.

It’s funny how time works. On the one hand, it doesn’t seem like we’ve ever lived anywhere else. On the other hand, it seems like just yesterday we were taking the huge leap of faith – moving to California with two small children and no jobs. We moved from a small town in Nebraska where you could get daycare for all your kids for less than $100 per week. Where making California’s minimum wage would provide a middle class lifestyle. Needless to say, it was quite a change. Where driving to work in the morning entailed one stoplight and less than 10 minutes.

I remember the apprehension and the excitement. I’m not an impulsive person, so moving halfway across the country without a plan was scary and exhilarating. Of course, Ryan and I were still awash in the post-grad belief that we could get any job, anywhere.

I remember the pain of saying goodbye to some of the best friends I’d ever made. They were my safety net in Nebraska, and I was going somewhere where I knew no one beyond my immediate family. We were also moving away from my in-laws, who while not in the same part of Nebraska as us, were still a major source of support and companionship for us.

I remember driving across the country with my mom, 2-year-old Madeline and 3-month-old Max, with Ryan in the U-Haul behind us. I remember listening to the Twins playing the Yankees in the playoffs. That year, Nathan gave up a game winning run too. I believe the Yankees swept the Twins. Some things change, some things stay the same.

When we moved to Sacramento, the Kings were good, the housing market was booming and Schwarzenegger was popular. Obviously times have changed. But as I looked at my chubby post childbirth face smiling up at me in the driver’s licence picture I took when first moved, I can’t help but wonder just how five years have passed already. And what that means for the next five years. No one ever told me my twenties would pass by at the same speed as my freshman year of high school.

But amid all of California’s woes, which have certainly affected us directly, I still know that it was the right choice to move here. I just hope the California of five years from now is more like the one that existed when we moved here. In the eyes of my 23-year-old self, I see hope and innocence, much of which has been lost slogging through adulthood, and parenthood, in a recession. When I go in for my next photo, I may look a little older and, God-willing, my address will have changed, but I hope that sparkle still exists. The one that says, “watch out California, here I come.”

First a huge asterisk on this entire post –  I originally titled this “My Day as a SAH Mom,” but I quickly realized that was not realistic – stay-at-home moms work much harder every day than I did yesterday. I fully realize that being a stay-at-home mom is challenging and just as hard, if not harder, than working full time. I think many of us, whether we work outside the home or not, yearn for days like this and I’m just so glad I got mine.

But yesterday was Columbus Day. For whatever reason, the kids had school, but I had the day off work. Any one with kids knows time to yourself is a rare luxury, and it did not disappoint. It was glorious! I stayed up late on Sunday and caught up on chick shows. On Monday, I drove the kids to school, then went back to bed. I got up, at my leisure and then gradually made my way to they gym, where I finished my daily workout before noon. I decided to treat myself with Chipotle. When I got home, Ryan was there, having left work  because of some system errors. After I guiltily disclosed my Chipotle for one purchase, we spent the afternoon together alternately cleaning and lounging until it was time to pick the kids up, which we did together – for the first time.

When we got home, the kids played and did homework, something they rarely get to do until after dinner. I caught up with Glee on Hulu and prepared a casserole to be cooked while I took Madeline to soccer. By seven, dinner was cleaned up and I had the rest of the night free. I even had time to read before turning the lights out at 10:30. Simply amazing. I don’t know if that’s ever happened before.

While I’d like to say today has followed suit, laundry, showers and bedtime stories await. Obviously, we can’t have days like that all the time but I’m hoping yesterday will propel me through to the weekend and until my next day off – Thanksgiving.

A couple of seasons ago on American Idol, Randy Jackson called Minneapolis “Minnehopeless” because of the lack of quality contestants auditioning there. While I cringed to hear the biggest city in my home state criticizied, I realized that he could have been describing Minnesota’s sports scene as well.

But lately, being a Minnesota fan has gone from being painful to being fun again. The Vikings look great, and I can use the word “look” literally, since they’ve actually been broadcasting many of the games out here in Sacramento. I’ve been able to watch with more confidence in the team than I’ve had in years. And it’s pretty damn cool that Monday’s Packers/Vikings game was the most watched event in cable history, even if it is because of all the hype around Favre.

And then there’s my beloved Minnesota Twins, the only one of my sports teams I’ve ever seen win a championship. Many, including me, had counted them out this season after initially expecting them to take the AL Central easily. It looked like just another disappointing season, until out of nowhere Detroit decided to fall apart and Minnesota was able to capitalize on it. This past weekend series was some of the most exciting baseball I’ve followed in my lifetime and last night’s game was amazing. The Twins became the first team in history to be down three games with four to play and win their division. Again, it also provided me a rare opportinity to watch my team on TV. Even if the Tigers/Twins were just playing for the rights to get swept by the Yankees, it was still damn good baseball. If the Twins can give the Yankees any kind of series, it will be a resounding success of a season.

And then there’s the Timberwolves – well, their (regular) season hasn’t started yet, so at least there’s nothing bad to say about them!

I’m writing this immediately after one of the most exciting Viking drives in recent history, so it is wholly possible, and even likely, that I will regret what I am about to say.

Today, I did not hate that Brett Favre was a Viking. In fact, when the Vikings started their last drive, I had to admit that they were in the most capable hands they have been in since I started watching football. Brett was either going to throw an interception or a touchdown. I was going to hate him more or grudgingly admit that the Vikings just might benefit from his presence. Regardless, I knew something was going to happen, not the boring four and outs of Vikings seasons past.

Earlier in the game, when he threw that ball after crossing the line of scrimmage, I was cursing him. There is no excuse for making that mistake at that point in his career. But, there are only a handful of quarterbacks in the league capable of a game-winning drive down the field with less than two minutes left and no timeouts. There, Favre is in elite company.

Now, there are still a lot of games left this season and I’m interested to see how he holds up. This game could be par for the course, or an anomaly. We’ll see.

There’s an interesting debate going on inside my head what I watch the Vikings this season. There’s the voice of the past, who laughs with glee when Favre screws up. Then there’s the other voice that reminds me that when he screws up, it hurts my team. Likewise, when the announcers continue to fall all over themselves praising Favre, I roll my eyes, but then I realize it isn’t as annoying when it’s your team that being praised by association.

Three weeks into the Favre experiment and so far, so good. But remember the Jets felt the same way last year. Brett, I’m sure you gained some fans in Minnesota today. For the Vikings sake, I hope you continue to turn those of us who spent more than a decade rooting against you. As far as I go, I’m not sure I’ll ever be a fan, but if you keep playing like this, you’ll make it really hard for me to keep hating you.

My husband and I both drive old cars with more than 100,000 miles. We’re just trying to hold on until it’s feasible to get a new car. In August, we paid a bunch of money to fix the tire and realign the car I primarily drive, hoping we’d be good for awhile. Last week, my car started stuttering every time I started it, until I left the gym at 10 p.m. on Thursday and it wouldn’t start at all. Hoping and praying it was just the battery, my husband and I would visit the gym parking lot many times over the next few days, starting bright and early Friday morning.

On Friday, we all woke up early to drive my husband to work (he starts at 7). Then, the kids and I came back up past our house to get them to school by 8 and then, after checking the car in the parking lot, I made my way to downtown Sacramento to start my work day. At 3:15, I got to go pick my husband up, stop at Home Depot for some tools, drop him off at the car, go pick the kids up at school, pick him up from the gym parking lot where he was futilely trying to get the car started, race home to change for Max’s soccer game and then visit with my sisters who were in town for the weekend. I’m tired again just thinking about it!

But the coup de grace came on Sunday when we finally gave up and towed the car. My sister and I were sitting in the parking lot waiting for the tow truck. When it arrived, it got my car all loaded up and my sister and I were supposed to  it in our other car. The tow truck pulls away and we turn the ignition to follow – nothing. We’re helplessly watching as the tow truck driving one of my non-working cars drives away from us in another non-working car. It might just be the closest I’ve ever come to vomiting from being upset. Thankfully, this car started with a jump and we were able to get business taken care of and get home.

All this (plus the cost of a new starter) was followed by multiple banking errors by others this week that negatively affected us. So by putting this in writing, I’m probably jinxing myself, but I’m really hoping for an incident-free week ahead. We’re barreling right through September, but the way that’s going, that’s just fine with me!

For me, the nature vs. nurture debate was over the day I had my son. The differences were many, and manifested right away. But their inherent differences still crack me up. We are belatedly working with Madeline on riding on two wheels and Max is speeding around on his training wheels. Bike riding has proved no different. Madeline was slow and chatty. Turning her head side to side, making idle conversation as my bicep burned trying to keep her bike steady. She had all the time in the world, and was in no hurry to get anywhere. When I took Max out, the only thing he said to me was, “Race ya!” before taking off. I had to jog just to keep up with him. Honestly, he looked more ready to be off training wheels than she did. Confident, quick and a little reckless, Max’s bike ride mirrored the way he lives much of his life. Casual, gentle and talkative, the same went for Madeline. When I took them out to ride, I had no idea the way they rode their bikes would be so reflective of their very different personalities. And it’s just one more check mark for “nature,” while I believe “nurture” has yet to get any in our household.

Sigh. This could be a long 13 years. My kids don’t really like school. I really thought that didn’t start until middle school. I suppose I don’t remember whether or not I liked school as a kid, but I remember having an inherent dislike for it. Last year, both kids used to complain about school from time to time. This year, every morning Max gets up and asks if it’s a school day. Upon hearing yes, every day he says, “awwww.” He said his favorite part of the school day is when it’s over and he’s already asked me when he’ll be done with school forever. (For the record, he currently wants to be an astronaut, so the answer was “not for a long, long time.”)

Madeline has already tried to fake sick. Her early attempts were comical. “Mommy I’m sick. My arms and legs are sick.” Now, she cheers the weekend and days off. She said it wasn’t fair other kids got to stay home sick when she had perfect attendance through mid-May last year. She asked me how long you have to stay in school to be a movie star (my answer – “you have to go to college.”) She was not at all excited for back to school this year.

Is that normal? Maybe it is and I just don’t know. But if it’s not, it’s only going to get worse. School typically gets less fun as you get older. And since I don’t get to put them on buses in the morning, I’ll get to hear their complaints every morning before and on the way to school until Madeline hopefully can drive to school. Although, maybe it’s hereditary, neither Ryan nor I was interested in spending one extra minute in college. Only time will tell.

I know that when our kids are young, we’re just supposed to enjoy watching them no matter what. But I gotta say, it’s more fun when they’re good! In the past 8 days, I’ve been to 2 of Max’s soccer games and one practice and I’ve heard comments from the coaches and other parents about how well Max is doing. Comments like “that’s right, get it to Max and let him go all the way!” to “Max, you’re our star!” and “Max is on fire!” As a parent, that feels really good.

However, even though he scored three goals tonight, I was a bit humbled by the kid on the other team who I suspect is a direct descentant of Pele. Damn, that kid was good. He could have scored every time he touched the ball, and he nearly did. But he also showed grace in setting up his teammates when he didn’t have to do so. That kid was better than some high school kids I’ve seen.

Tomorrow is Madeline’s first game, and although I’m hopeful, I don’t think she’ll be scoring three goals, but I am really interested to see how she does. I will enjoy watching her games even if she never scores a single goal, but I gotta say, there’s something very exciting about watching your kid excel.

At some point during childhood, most kids want to be a teacher, a doctor, a vet and, in the case of my childhood friends, a marine biologist. I don’t remember ever wanting to be any of those things. Maybe a teacher for a brief time, but that’s mostly because I really liked writing on chalk boards. This week, I was reminded again why I never wanted to be a doctor. I’ve had some shoulder pain for over a year now and I finally decided to get it checked out. I was ready to hear I had a specific problem with a specific solution. What I was not ready to hear was “you have loose joints.”

Loose joints? Let me explain something to you. I think that the inside of the human body is pretty gross. I don’t need, or want, to know how it all works. It’s like the inside of a car or a computer, I just want it to work without thinking about it. So when the doctor took out his model of how the shoulder joints work, I got a little queasy. When the physical therapist had me stand with my arms out and he pushed on my shoulders and said, “I just want to see how much I can move them,” my knees got a little shaky. When they said it was a genetic condition, my heart sank. It’s manageable, but not fixable, which means now I get to think about my shoulder and other joints wobbling around for the rest of my life.

In addition to thinking about the future, I also started thinking about the past. This might just explain why I dislocated my elbow three times before I was eight, or why my hip would randomly give out when I was walking when I was pregnant. Or why all my fingers are double jointed.

Ever since I left the doctor’s office with my little resistance bands, under strict orders not to do any other strength training for a month, I’ve been walking around like I have a stiff neck. I’m afraid to move my shoulders – and for some odd reason, my neck – even though there’s  no immediate danger. It’s because I keep seeing that little model of shoulder bones and thinking about what’s going on on the inside and it’s grossing me out.

All I can really do is the recommended exercises, avoid the exercises that are apparently dangerous for us loose-jointed people (which coincidentally were essentially all the ones I’ve always done) and try not to think about it. Sounds simple, right? Right.