Nintendo Kids Corner at E3 2014: Feels like she's livin' a Teenage Dream

We were lucky enough to attend E3 this year as guests of Nintendo, and even though the event was called Kids Corner my 15-year-old was crazy excited to attend. She'd been wanting to check out this mythical gaming mecca for years (attendees have to be at least 17 and affiliated with the industry) so just getting to set foot inside was a dream come true.

Also, she's been a gamer for years and the only system we've owned is Nintendo, so it was sort of like the mothership calling her home (cue the five-note sequence from 'Close Encounters Of The Third Kind'!

Talk about standing out in a crowd

With the majority of marketing aimed at young kids and their parents, it's great to see brands paying attention to the teen market who – hello – make many buying decisions on their own, have their own money to spend, and maniacally share information with their friends via social media. Know any five-year-olds who have a Tumblr, Twitter, Vine, SnapChat, Instagram and Facebook account? I DIDN'T THINK SO.

Plus, teens do things like this without your help:



And who would've thought that with an entire convention center filled with teen boys and costumed video characters, the people she was most excited to see were these guys:

Reggie Fils-Aimé, President and CEO of Nintendo (who knew he was like a rockstar for hipster gamers?)

Tsunekazu Ishihara, CEO of the Pokémon company (standing here with his faithful employee.)

And then there was this holy-grail, meta moment - when she got to play Mario Maker with the creator of Mario (as well as Donkey Kong and Zelda), Shigeru Miyamoto! For us older folks who have a hard time grasping the enormity of this, imagine playing Operation with Milton Bradley himself.

Okay, Mr. Miyamoto – I'mma let you win.

Along with meeting all these gaming celebs, all the kids (and parents) got a chance to play a bunch of the newest Nintendo games that are about to be released. One of my daughter's favorites: Pokémon Art Academy, that teaches you how to draw all of your favorite Pokémon. Brilliant new video game, or genius method of scoping out future Nintendo employees? My kid's on board either way.

Then there was probably the highlight of her day - getting the chance to play the new Super Smash Bros. on the humongous screen at the Nintendo booth - and then winning a medal! She said, and I quote, "Best thing that's ever happened to me, and totally going on my college resumé."

Crushing you.

And if you doubt how seriously people take this game, check out this guy's attire:

RESPECT THE SATIN ROBE.

Another game that we both loved: Splatoon, that lets you use giant water guns to mark your turf and do battle. I liked that there was an aggressive way to play the game (taking down your opponents) and a passive way (marking your territory with your paint color.) I chose the passive way, because I'm a lover not a fighter (and because I have terrible aim and suck at shooting games.)

Not to take away its street cred, but this game is mom-approved.

I could go on, but I don't want to spoil the excitement for when these games hit the streets and you get to experience them for yourself. Here are the upcoming games, and their release dates. Get your satin robes ready, people.

Splatoon – 2015
Mario Maker – 2015
Pokémon Art Academy – October 2014
New Super Smash Bros. – October 2014
Mario Party 10 – 2015
Fossil Fighters Frontier – 2015
Mario vs Donkey Kong – 2015
Kirby and the Rainbow Curse – 2015
Captain Toad Treasure Tracker – 2014
Yoshi’s Woolly World – 2015
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I participated in the Nintendo Kids Corner event at E3 2014 as an invited guest of Nintendo. I received free product and access to the event, but was not otherwise compensated. All opinions, blurry photography and corny captions are my own.
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Live, On Stage: Your Awesome Memories

My girls still remember going to a production of Sleeping Beauty when they were probably only around four and six-years-old. The play was at a tiny theater around the corner from where we lived at the time, didn't star any big names or feature any elaborate sets and I think tickets were only around ten dollars each. They loved seeing one of their favorite stories brought to life on the stage, and we waited after the show so the girls could meet the actors. This is probably why Kira has to linger after every show she goes to in order to meet the performers – thus a groupie was born.

Fast forward over ten years to last weekend, when we took them to see Matthew Bourne's Sleeping Beauty at the Ahmanson Theater. They had been asking to see this for weeks (Kiyomi had already seen it on a school field trip and wanted to see it again) so we bought some last-minute tickets and headed downtown. The show was spectacular, and once again we were reminded how powerful and moving a live performance can be – and how happy we were that we could share it with our girls. (I should add that these tickets were a bit more than ten dollars, though.)

We've been taking them to live shows for years – concerts, plays, ballets, musicals, circuses – and good or bad, the experience is always memorable.  Movies are fun, but chances are they're going to remember the live pre-show way more than what happens next on a flat screen. (But I will admit movies have better snacks. Get with the popcorn and nachos, live show planners!)

People often cite the high cost of tickets for live shows, but with a little big of digging you can often find tickets for less than the price of a movie ticket, and sometimes free (hello, Goldstar!) My girls belong to the CTG Student Scene, a network sponsored by L.A.'s Center Theater Group that offers them deeply discounted tickets (students only) to events at the Ahmanson Theatre, Mark Taper Forum, and the Kirk Douglas Theatre. Last year they got floor seats to Anything Goes, and I had a nice dinner and a cocktail at Pinot while I waited for them. See, live theater has many benefits.

And speaking of live theater and FREE tickets, I have tickets to give away to a holiday family show: Aladdin And His Winter Wish at the Pasadena Playhouse. Great casting: Ben Vereen as the Genie, and Bruce Vilance as Widow Twanky. And your tweens/teens will love this, too – it stars Teen Beach Movie's Jordan Fisher as Aladdin.

So get out and see some live theater –  Frozen will still be there next month. 

What: 'Family PacK' of 4 tickets to Aladdin And His Winter Wish for either December 14 or 15 at 11:00am.

How: Leave a comment here no later than 11:30pm Sunday night (December 8) telling me your favorite live performance you've seen. I'll use random.org to draw a winner from the entries. One comment per person, but you can share on Facebook or Twitter for additional entries. Please don't forget to leave a valid email address.

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Broke and in love? Bring your Valentine to Cirque du Soleil's OVO for FREE!

A couple of weeks ago I was lucky enough to get invited to see Cirque du Soleil's latest production, OVO. I'm a big fan of Cirque du Soleil, but I have to admit to having a little bit of skepticism with each new show, wondering if they'll be able to top their previous production. Will the acrobats fly a little further, the jugglers juggle a little higher? I keep thinking the only way they'll outdo themselves is if they pick up the entire audience and hurl them into a huge waiting net in the parking lot, feed them dinner and then plunk them back into their seats.

Read more about the show and the FREE ticket here!

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You had to be there

When Kiyomi was in elementary school she had a love-hate relationship with a girl I'll call E. They'd known each other since first grade, and went from intensely hating each other to being best buddies who couldn't wait to get together on the weekends for a playdate. While E could be sweet, she could also get aggressive and I know at least a couple of moms who had discouraged their daughters from hanging around her too much. She did have a bad habit of digging her little 9-year-old fingernails firmly into other kids' wrists.

Her parents weren't the most involved parents, but they weren't the worst, either. I knew them casually and thought they were friendly enough, and E seemed like a pretty happy kid in spite of always craving attention. But don't they all? Rigel and I often remarked that she was one of those kids you just wanted to like – that little button nose and bobbed hair and she was super polite, in an Eddie Haskell-ish kind of way.

Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago - Kiyomi was getting a 'Student Of The Month' Award along with a few other kids and there was a small ceremony in the auditorium towards the end of the school day. I definitely wanted to be there since she's graduating this year and I figured it might be the last of these types of ceremonies where I could get all teary-eyed and embarrass the hell out of her. But I promised I wouldn't clap too loudly and I left my big foam hand at home, the one that has, "#1 Girl" silkscreened on its pointer finger.

I took a seat and a few minutes later someone ran up and hugged me. It was E. She and Kiyomi hadn't hung around much since they started middle school three years ago, and I had only seen her a handful of times on campus. She said she was getting an award, too, and I told her how tall she'd gotten and how pretty she looked. Then I asked her where her mom or dad were, so I could say a quick hello before the ceremony started.

After I asked, I immediately wanted to take my words back because she looked so uncomfortable. "Um, they aren't here. They're too busy." Her words trailed off, and I tried my best to change the subject by asking her about her hat. Because I'm smooth like that.

The ceremony got under way, and the teacher who was leading the whole thing started off by telling all the kids to go sit with their parents. A reasonable request, but I knew there were at least a few kids in the audience who didn't have anyone from their family there and it made me cringe. (Only the first of things this teacher did that made me cringe, but that's a topic for another time.)

All these kids are a supportive bunch, so there was no shortage of clapping and shout-outs when the kids went up to accept their awards, whether their families were there or not. But then the teacher had to start talking about how grateful all the kids should be to their parents, who were so supportive and had taken time out from their busy days to be at the ceremony, and how they needed to give their parents a big hug. NOW.

Hugs from teenagers are hard to come by these days, so I gladly took mine from Kiyomi, but still couldn't help but feel badly for E and the other kids who were there alone. Then someone tapped me on the shoulder, and it was E standing in front of me.

"Can I give you a hug?"

My heart just about broke into a million pieces. I gave her a big hug, and then I talked her into taking a couple of silly pictures with Kiyomi.

I'm willing to give the parents the benefit of the doubt. We're all busy, maybe her parents just absolutely couldn't get away from work, maybe E didn't let on how much she wanted them there. There are a mind-boggling number of events that parents are expected to attend throughout the school year and there's no way we can make it to all of them. I even skipped Back-To-School night this year and I didn't even have a really good reason, except that I was exhausted, although I was ready with a carefully thought-out "Sinkhole ate our house" excuse in case any of the teachers inquired.

But this was kind of a big deal. There are over two thousand kids in this school, so for a handful to be singled out is an honor, one that doesn't happen every day and from what I've seen they pretty much stop with the awards once high school starts. After all of the hand-wringing and worrying about our kids doing well in school I can't imagine not being there when all their hard work is recognized.

I regret that the teacher didn't choose his words more carefully and wish he hadn't put so much emphasis on the parents physically being there. I wish he'd had the sensitivity to say something comforting to the kids who were there alone. I'm kind of kicking myself that I didn't ask E to come sit with us earlier in the ceremony. I wish middle school and being 13 wasn't so damn awkward and hard already without some sad moment getting magnified and maybe hurting more than it should. But most of all I really wish someone had shown up for E.

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My Summer Camp: Bring a sponge

I spent a recent afternoon searching out new and exciting things for my girls to do this summer, something to supplement their music and drama camps. And the options for teens are endless – how are they going to choose between the LMAO Facebook Status Update workshop and the Cute Boy symposium? That's a full day right there.

So I decided to take a break and have some lunch, and this is what I found when I went to grab a plate from the cabinet:

This is what happens when you ask your daughters to unload the dishwasher, and they're in such a rush to watch Gossip Girl they forgot that the dishes can actually be lifted up and stacked properly

Which confirms my suspicion that this is the most useless toy ever invented and taught them absolutely nothing:

So then I started thinking that what my girls need this summer are not more expensive camps. Do they really need to learn the bass-line to Poker Face, or take a two-hundred dollar workshop where they learn how to act like a lemur or cry on cue? No, what they need are some good hard lessons in practical things, things that will maybe enable them to leave the house and live on their own sometime before they turn forty. 

What they need is Chore Camp.

I love my girls. They're smart, funny, respectful and talented. But they'll be the first to tell you that things like dish washing and cleaning are hardly activities they excel in. Not to scare anyone that comes to eat at our house, but please check your plate for dried chunks of food first. And I don't think they even know how to work the washing machine - I may have even heard one of them refer to it as 'The Big White Thing That Cleans Pants."

So I've decided to start my own camp with a curriculum that puts some serious time into honing their housekeeping abilities. They may not speak to me for the next five years, but I'm sure they'll thank me later. Here are a few courses I'm offering:

Dish Stacking: Large to Small, A Brilliant Concept

Dish Washing: No, There Is No China Pattern Called 'Dried Salsa'

Closet Management: Hangers Are Your Friend

Toilet Cleaning: Someone Has To Do It

Laundry 101: Your Leggings From Hot Topic Aren't Going To Wash Themselves

Hurry and sign up – I have a feeling they'll fill up fast.

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Too much to ask

Kiyomi (yesterday): So, mom - what are you REALLY hoping to get for Mother's Day tomorrow? And don't say 'love,' That's just lame.

Me (only half-joking): What would be awesome is if you were in a good mood for the entire day.

Kiyomi (after giving this request some serious thought. As if I had just asked her for a kidney): Oh, ALRIGHT. I'll give you until 8:30 tomorrow night.

It's 11:30am and so far so good. Hope springs eternal.

Happy Mother's Day Everyone! May you be blessed with the simple things in life.

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Our Dark Little Secret

Here's a post I wrote a couple of years ago for the LA Moms Blog. Yeah, it's old material, but try to think of it as 'revisiting previous thoughts' instead of 'recycling old crap.'

We went on a vacation recently, and two of the best days were ones where my husband and I took our daughters, 11 and 13, biking along the Truckee river in Lake Tahoe. This was the culmination of a dream of ours – not the river ride itself, but the very act of biking. Yes, you heard me right – my kids have been on this planet over a decade and just recently learned how to ride bikes. But I've decided to come clean and now I’m all about disclosure – next I’ll be telling you about my third nipple.

It really was our dark little secret. While we watched other kids riding around on their fancy two-wheelers, we could only stand by helplessly and say to ourselves, "Why not us?" It wasn’t for a lack of trying – we’d attempted to get our girls to ride numerous times but they rejected the Schwinns in favor of Razors or rollerblades. And our plan to convince the neighbors that training wheels were the new, retro, 'in' thing like bell bottoms or turntables? Totally not working.

Even humiliation wouldn't motivate them - when we encountered a pre-schooler who yelled to my older daughter that he would “teach you how to ride a bike if you want," as he whizzed by on his two-wheeler, she felt stung but still showed no interest. When she had to stop me from yelling after him spitefully, "At least she doesn't still crap her pants," I knew the situation was getting the best of me.

But I did find out I wasn't alone. Earlier this summer I was having dinner with a few other moms and after a couple of martinis I blurted out that my girls didn't know how to ride bikes. The outpouring of support I received! After we had all gathered in a big group hug and stopped crying a few of the other moms admitted that - gasp - their kids weren't bikers, either. We all found we had the same reasons for our deficiency - lack of time, lack of interest on our kids' part, lack of a pair of hot cycling shoes featuring this season's metallic. In our solidarity we all felt a great burden had been lifted, and ordered another round of martinis vowing to get right on that bicycle riding thingamajig.

But what finally broke the camel's back was what my younger daughter repeated to my husband after coming home from a birthday party a couple of weeks later. When one of the other dads found out that she lacked the cycling skills to play a round of balloon polo, he remarked to her, "What? Didn't your DAD ever teach you how to ride a bike?"

The reaction on the homefront was swift and decisive. Within hours of hearing that remark my husband had bikes at the ready, helmets cleaned and polished, a bottle of Advil discreetly tucked into his pocket and the car pointed at the nearest wide-open parking lot. With the take-charge I saw that day I have to admit I secretly wished that dad at the party had questioned my daughter as to why her family didn't have a beachfront condo on Maui.

When they drove away I wasn't optimistic. I stayed by the phone, expecting an exasperated phone call from my husband, a call from the local ER or a text from one of my daughters asking why daddy was banging his head on the pavement and crying. But lo and behold - just sixty short minutes later I picked up the phone to hear the calm voice of my husband saying, "We have two bike riders here." I hadn't felt that much relief since my 13-year-old told me she thought all the boys at her school were immature and smelled like dirt.

And we've been riding ever since. My younger daughter prefers speed and the challenge of an uphill climb, while my teenager prefers a slower pace and dreams of a way to mount her iPod and a photo of Chace Crawford on her handlebars. We've taken rides around the neighborhood, on our local bike paths, around the island of Catalina and our recent ride along the river. And any way we do it is fine - I'm just thrilled to be riding together as a family, and to emerge from the shadows of our dark secret. By the way, I was kidding about that third nipple but now that I'm sharing let me tell you how long it's been since I cleaned my refrigerator...

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Bathtubs

Lately whenever we're watching TV with the girls Kiyomi will occasionally yell out "OMIGOD BATHTUBS!" meaning she's just seen someone over the age of 23 engaging in some sort of romantic interlude. The term 'bathtubs' came about after the first time the girls saw a Cialis commercial and it was the one that ends with an older couple sitting in two side-by-side bathtubs on the beach. For some reason Kiyomi found this the most disturbing thing of all, and after it was over said, "Bathtubs? What is with the BATHTUBS? That is just WRONG." I guess the part about "erections lasting over 12 hours" didn't bother her one bit.

So then 'bathtubs' became shorthand for 'Old People Getting Too Close.' It could be kissing, or hugging or even a look shared over a cup of coffee, it didn't matter - behavior like that should only occur between young people with smooth, tight skin wearing skinny jeans and a hoodie.

If Kiyomi even so much as saw Rigel and I holding hands, she'd yell out, "Bathtubs!" as a signal that we'd better cut it out or take it out of her line of vision. Sometimes we'd freak her out by yelling the term ourselves right as we were heading out the door for a date night, or maybe as she was walking out of the room to go to bed, leaving us alone on the couch watching TV. Although I have to admit 'bathtubs' is a sexier codeword than our previous one, 'ElevenO'clockNews.'

Lately, for some reason 'bathtubs' is slowly becoming shorthand for anyone having sex, which has opened up the realm of possibilities. I like to use it as a warning for something that's coming up in a movie or show so that the girls have a chance to leave the room as in, "Now's a good time to go check your Facebook page, since there are some heavy bathtub scenes coming up." I'm wishing we had come up with the term a long time ago – it would have been nice if the question, "How are babies made?" could have been summed up in one word.

But the best part is it's given me ammo for the future for when the girls start dating. I can't wait for the day when I'm driving Kiyomi and her boyfriend to the movies, and as they're sitting there side by side in the back seat of the car I turn to look at them over my shoulder and say, "NO BATHTUBS."

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Hairy

I was at a wedding shower luncheon recently and as usual when a bunch of women are gathered, the talk turned to underarm hair. How to get rid of it, how much we hate it, who invented it - like clockwork, right after salad and right before the main course we discussed these pressing issues. Then, one of the women commented that she had once seen a picture of Julia Roberts with a bushy armpit and remarked that, "It kind of made me gag." She said this with such drama, pausing and then closing her eyes and appearing to concentrate, like people do when they're either praying or passing gas.

A few of us came to Julia's defense, using the usual "It's European" argument or "Maybe her assistant forgot to shave her" theory. (Although, I noticed that everyone was careful not to raise their arms too high from that point on.) I though this was funny, mainly because this woman had such an intense reaction to Julia's hirsute pit, like the actress had gone out of her way to cause great agony and discomfort in her viewing audience. I imagined Julia waking up the morning that the photo was taken and saying to herself, 'Let me just put this right out there so that some poor soccer mom can choke on her caramel latte."

I sympathize with Julia - keeping hair under control is a bitch, and who can blame her if she didn't feel like getting out the razor that morning? I started thinking about how, with two teenage daughters, so much of our expense and energy is being poured into the styling, bleaching, removing, waxing and plucking of hair. A trip to the drug store usually results in a basket filled with no fewer than four kinds of shampoos and conditioner, an unreasonably large assortment of pins, ponytail holders and headbands and at least three different types of hair removal creams and/or devices. Just a tip: the one that resembles a lathe that you fill with napalm? Definitely not worth your $9.95, even with the added Bonus Ginsu Razor.

Absolutely true story: Recently Rigel and I went to an event, and were eagerly anticipating our night ahead of child-free revelry. Just as we were getting ready to take our first sips of our ginseng martinis his phone buzzed (mine was turned off) and it was a text from Kira that started with 'URGENT.' We were alarmed of course, until we saw the rest of it:

"PLEASE stop at Rite Aid on your way home and get CONDITIONER!!!! Pantene Pro-V Fine Hair Solutions Dry to Moisturized 12.8 oz. THANK YOU!!!!!!"

Can I just say there's no greater buzzkill than a text from your teenager with an unnecessarily detailed hair product order.

I recently took a hairy matter into my own hands and decided to pluck Kiyomi's eyebrows myself. I thought I did a pretty good job, although with all the screaming you would have thought I was shaping them with a blowtorch. So what if they didn't totally match and one of them gave her a permanent, slightly inquisitive look - that was twenty bucks saved that could be spent on an eyelash curler. I couldn't help wanting to show off my handiwork to my friends one day at a party, although perhaps dragging Kiyomi over and announcing, "I plucked these suckers myself!" may have not been the most sensitive thing I've ever done in my life, a fact that she let me know by giving me one of the fiercest glares I've ever seen (from under a perfectly shaped arch, I might add.)

Getting back to the woman at the party, I did jokingly ask her if she had ever been caught with her hair down, so to speak, and she said it was the reason she had taken to wearing long sleeves lately. As she said this she laughed and threw her head back, and I caught a glimpse of a nose hair protruding from her nostril. It kind of made me gag.

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That's the ticket!

I wrote this post over two years ago for the LA Moms Blog, back when Kira was in the throes of her Ting-Tings mania. Now she says she can barely listen to any of their songs without cringing because it reminds her of what an "obsessed fan-girl" she was. I know how she feels - 'Muskrat Love' just makes my skin crawl now.

A few weeks ago my daughter let out a scream while sitting in front of her computer.  It wasn’t exactly a scream, more of that thing twelve-year olds do to convey excitement:  a yelp followed by a couple of ‘omigods’ and punctuated by frenetic hand clapping. I figured she had just seen a cute boy on YouTube  so I ignored the commotion until she came running into my office, breathless, to announce that The Ting Tings were going to be in concert! She had a crazy look in her eyes,  kind of how my husband says I look whenever chicken breasts go on sale  for half-price at Costco.

The Ting Tings are the latest band she discovered through the amazing marketing machine known as the iPod Commercial.  I know this makes me sound old, but I remember the days when we used to discover new music by listening to the radio, or watching Soul Train or stealing our brother’s 45’s.  I’d kick back, relax and listen to my new tunes after I had finished washing my clothes down by the river and churning my own butter.

She immediately sent me a link to the website, and sure enough  there they were, IN CONCERT LIVE OMIGOD. And best of all the tickets  were a mere $16, which we all know is dirt cheap for a live show these  days since that pittance can barely buy you a movie ticket, or a cd, or  even a small coffee at Starbucks.

But as usual I procrastinated about buying those tickets, even though  she diligently asked me about them every single day.  Something always  seemed to come up that made me put it off, important things like that  extra nap I was trying to fit in, or rearranging my blogroll.  So when  the big moment came around and my husband pulled out his credit card to  place our order everyone was pretty excited, almost as much as the time I  finally broke down and ordered that tub of OxyClean I’d promised  myself.

And then we saw that the concert was sold out.

You’ve heard of "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned"? How about  "hell hath no sorrow like a tween whose parents waited to long to buy  Ting Tings tickets"?  She burst into tears almost immediately after  seeing the ‘SOLD OUT’ banner appear, and continued crying as my husband  furiously searched various websites trying to score some tickets.  He  did find some on Craigslist for $95 each, and another pair on Ebay for  almost $200, but there was no way we were going to pay those prices.  It wasn’t a total bust, though, since I did find a nice set of wine  glasses and some ‘Like New!’ ski pants.

We felt awful and I could have kicked myself for not snatching up  those tickets earlier.  I tried to make her feel better by promising she  could play the CD extra loud on the night of the show and we’d all wave  our cell phones in the air, but surprisingly this didn’t cheer her up  one bit and she went to bed sniffling and sadder than ever.

After she had gone to sleep I talked my husband into making one last  effort.  It was a long shot, but how about emailing the club directly  and asking if they had any plans to add another show, or maybe even some extra tickets lying around?  Surely there was an undeserving stagehand whose tickets they’d revoke after hearing our sad story about our tween  daughter's ruined life. I even contemplated embedding an mp3 of her  muffled sobs coming from the other room but my husband said it would be  overkill, and besides it would clash with the picture of the sad-eyed  kittens he was attaching.

And we waited.  And when an email finally came in from the club the  next day, I was wary and decided to read it before calling my daughter  in. There was no need for her to see an automated response that said,  “thank you for your interest in our venue try bud light it tastes great  and is less filling.”

But I couldn’t help but let out a scream of my own when I read that,  as a matter of fact, they had a front row balcony table that they hadn’t  released to the public. That seated four people and would end up  costing us a little more than the original price but nowhere near what  they were asking on Craigslist and EBay.  I don’t think I’ve seen my  daughter so happy – it reminded me of the time I promised her I would  never wear my bathrobe again when picking her up at school.

So that’s where we’ll be going in a couple of weeks, and she’s  counting down the days.  She’s already made a sign to wave at the  concert, and her and my 10-year-old have already picked out their  outfits for that night.  And of course there’s a moral to this story:

Don’t put off until tomorrow what you can do today, and if you do  you’d better pray there’s a kind person working in the box office who’s  got a soft spot for sobbing twelve-year olds and kittens.

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Where on earth did this come from?

Tonight, as she has for the past few weeks Kira is rehearsing for her school's production of Moulin Rouge. Soon she'll spend weekends rehearsing, seven hours a day up until the show's premiere in late February. In between she still seeks out and performs at open mic nights, singing and playing guitar. She has one singular dream, to be a pop star and as she puts it "There is no Plan B because that means you have no faith in your dreams." Cue applause and a Z-snap.

Meanwhile, Kiyomi is preparing to begin rehearsals for her school's production of Tommy. On Tuesdays she takes a dance-intensive class to learn steps for the numbers and just to hone her dancing skills for future shows. She's in love with performing and wants to be on Broadway one day, and already has her monologue ready for when she's a guest on Jimmy Fallon. You know, after she wins the Tony.

As for me, I freak out and break out in a cold sweat if I have to address a audience of more than two people. My most vivid memory of taking piano as a child are the intense, week-long stomach aches I used to get before every recital. In middle school or high school, the idea of performing in public was as absurd as walking naked across the senior lawn, although I do remember a few of us egging on a classmate to do just that during finals week. And just our luck – since he was in drama club he accepted the challenge willingly and got all of us in trouble when he started taking off his clothes as the 5th period bell rang.

People always assume that the girls get their performing bug from me or Rigel, but nothing could be further from the truth. Sure Rigel's in a band, but that was something he started as an adult, and his experiences with any type of organized performing as a child are as non-existent as mine. He does remember playing at some parties in high school, but that wasn't so much for the love of the greasepaint as it was for the love of the unlimited access to the kegger being offered in the backyard patio. 

So where do the girls get their career aspirations? I'm thinking there was a mixup at the hospital - I did give birth at a hospital frequented by celebrities, so perhaps some singer/actresses somewhere are actually raising my camera-shy daughters who hate being in front of an audience. Their moms are throwing up their hands because their kids won't perform the duet with them from Miss Saigon, or refuse to enter the talent contest at the local community center. There are tiny sequined gowns going to waste in closets, and their moms go to sleep at night drying their tears with unused pageant applications.

But whatever the case, and as long as my girls want to pursue these pop-star-Broadway-diva dreams, I'm going to support them in any way I can. Even though I might not understand the desire to put yourself on a stage in front of a bunch of strangers for your art, I can understand wanting to follow your dreams and I'm betting I'll be watching them walk up on a stage sometime in the future to accept an award.

Although, I'm getting a stomach ache just thinking about it.

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This post was written as part of my involvement with the Yahoo! Motherboard. Read what other writers have to say about their kids following in their footsteps on the Yahoo! Motherboard page on Shine.


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Grateful

Here's yet another re-posting of one of my pieces from the LA Moms Blog. Because I wanted the first post of the New Year to be a tired, old retread. Aiming high for 2011!

I was picking up my kids from school the other day, and when they got in the car my 11-year-old launched into a story about a classmate who said that his parents would be really upset that he got a 'B' on his report card. Without thinking I responded, “Well, aren’t you grateful we aren’t like that?” Naturally, I followed this up with a lecture about having to walk fifty miles through a hurricane to get to work and then a short summation of my time as an overworked child in a rug factory in India.

You’ve heard this before -- parents using other people’s misfortune to instill gratitude in their kids. The ones that say, “Hey, eat your peas — there are kids starving in other zip codes,” or “Sure you don’t like those generic jeans, but how’d you like it if all you had to wear was polyester?”

Unfortunately I find myself doing this a lot lately. Parenting is a competitive sport, and I’ve become expert at using my opponents’ “weaknesses” to bolster my standing with my daughters. When my 13-year-old told me about her friend being grounded for not cleaning her room, I wagged my finger and told her how grateful she should be that her dad and I had a high tolerance for filth. Then recently I couldn’t wait to share with both of my girls the rigorous chore schedule I found out a friend had laid out for her two sons. That was of course punctuated with, “Maybe now you won’t complain so much about having to unload the dishwasher.” I made sure to have my hands on my hips for that one.

It’s gotten so bad that I’m thinking of renting a horror film I remember seeing, one where the parents use spells to turn their unruly children into farm animals. I think I’ll get extra satisfaction from announcing over the closing credits, “I hope you now realize that having your allowance withheld is nothing compared to being turned into a goat.” I imagine they’ll put down the pillow they’ve been cowering behind and immediately begin folding that pile of laundry that had been sitting on the couch for two weeks.

But kids being the crafty creatures they are, they’ve managed to turn the tables on me. They were watching a show on TV the other night, “Secret Life of an American Gossip Girl” or something like that, and the 11-year-old yelled out to me, “Well mom, my room might look like a pigsty but at least I’m not pregnant and having an affair with my gym teacher.” As miffed as I was that she had stolen my technique, I had to admit she was right. I was suddenly filled with an immense feeling of gratitude and got to work hanging up the pile of clothes covering her bed.

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My Top Five Searches

Yahoo! recently released a list of their Top Searched Questions in 2010. They are:

1. How to tie a tie
2. How to lose weight
3. How to kiss
4. How to write a resume
5. What's the world's only immortal animal
6. Which city has the best tap water
7. Which natural disaster shortened earth's days
8. What is love
9. What causes lightning
10. How to boil an egg

Some of these make perfect sense. For instance, I wish more men would search for 'How to tie a tie' and maybe they wouldn't show up at formal events looking like they just got in a bar fight. Also, it would finally put an end to bolo ties, thank God. But then there's 'What's the world's only immortal animal.' What does this mean? Who was searching for this? I'm not sure I want to know the answer.

And of course, 'What is love' which is totally understandable. Everyone's looking for love on the internet. I'm wondering if Yahoo! returned "Baby don't hurt me," as the answer, which would have been awesome.

This got me thinking about a hypothetical situation: What if I was a search engine, and as a mom, what would be my Top Searched Questions asked by my kids. It's a strange thought, I know, but just go with it. Hey, it's only half as strange as 'What's the world's only immortal animal.'

Also, because this is my hypothetical situation, there will only be a Top 5.  I don't have a lot of time – I just found out the answer to 'Which natural disaster shortened earth's days.'

My Top 5 Searched Questions in 2010

1. Do I have to 
Doesn't matter what it is, I get asked this about almost everything from cleaning their room to feeding the cat. Also, more disturbingly, it's becoming the standard response from Kiyomi when I tell her to put on more clothes.

2. Where's my
Again, this proceeds a long list of things, from shoes to sunglasses to 'that five dollars I left on the couch three months ago.' It's usually followed by me asking, sometimes out loud, "Where's my gin."

3. Can I go to a movie
When Kira was around 2, we were watching TV and a commercial for a Disney movie came on. Before it even got halfway through she shouted out, "Available on DVD and video November 4th!" It was a precursor of things to come - now she knows the release date of pretty much every movie made, and wants to go to opening weekend of half of them. I've started answering with, "I don't know, can your friend's mom take you." Coincidentally, that's also what you get if you search it on Yahoo!

4. Are you going out again
The girls are finally old enough to stay home alone, and Rigel and I are taking full advantage of the situation. Late dinners, after-work drinks, even a trip to the dry cleaners are all opportunities to get out of the house and do something together. They're just hitting their teen years, though, so soon the situation will be reversed and we'll be making that same query. When that time comes, I plan to roll my eyes and wag my Wii controller, too, just to get back at them. 

5. Why are teachers so cruel
Homework taking longer than five minutes, pop quizzes, rules against starting fires in class – a variety of situations bring on this question. My standard response to this query is, "And you thought I was mean." Doesn't really answer their question, but makes me feel smug and vindicated which is the best you can ask for as a mother.

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My cat wrote this post

Well, my cat didn't really write this, but it reminds me of something he might write if he could figure out what to do with the keyboard besides sit on it. I think I kind of felt like him when I was writing it – sleepy, confused and when I was done I just wanted to lay on the couch and wait for someone to come scratch me.

In short, this is just a mash-up of different things in no particular order. I hope it doesn't make you want to cough up a hairball.

• Last Saturday I was invited to a performance of Peter Pan at the Orange County Performing Arts Center. I loved it and I'm going to post a full review soon, but I just wanted to share one of the more exciting events of the evening: Kiyomi dropped her iPhone in the toilet at the theater. It wasn't a new one - I gave her my old 2G - but was tragic nonetheless. All the advice on the internet said to bury it in some uncooked rice for a few days to draw out all the moisture, which I did but it didn't work. Having a dead iPhone is sad, but as an Asian the most painful part was seeing all that good rice go to waste.

• There's still time to Do Something. And by that I mean by leaving a comment on my Texting & Driving post or any of these posts that are part of the LG TextEd BlogHer Engagement Program, 5¢ will be donated to DoSomething.org. This weeks topic is Teens and Sexting – I know it's scary but it'll be happening before you know it. Soon your kids are going to want to kiss someone besides you.

• I wrote on Facebook recently about seeing a man at the post office who I thought was naked from the waist down, only to realize he was wearing flesh-colored leggings. As if this wasn't alarming enough, a few days later my senses were assaulted again by another legging-attired male. Now I come to find out there's actually a name for them – wait for it – MEGGINGS, and they're coming to a post office, park, school and construction site near you. I'm hoping this trend goes the way of the man-purse. Although, if you're a man wearing those meggings you're going to need somewhere to put your wallet.

• Speaking of cats, mine still doesn't know how to bury his poop, but he does have a new trick. If you're using the bathroom, he will wander in and try to flush the toilet. It's kind of cute and creepy at the same time.

• Still speaking of cats, Rigel sent me this video before he even knew my post was featuring cats. It's like he can read my mind! Right now I'm concentrating on him never wearing meggings.



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I'm an Ambassador, but you can still call me 'Hey You'

For the next few weeks I'm going to be participating in the LG TextEd BlogHer Engagement Program that is bringing together the voices of several bloggers and their experiences with teens and cell phone use, particularly in regards to texting. I have been given the lofty title of LG TextEd Ambassador, something I'm going to hold over the heads of all those losers who didn't vote for me for 7th Grade Treasurer. Yeah, don't even try and say 'you knew me when.'

The best part is, for every comment left on any of the posts in the program, 50 cents will be donated to DoSomething.org, up to $5,000. 

I will have a post up soon on the topic of Texting and Driving, but in the meantime you can check out what others have to say on this week's topic, Mobile Meanness.

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Our trip to Disneyland inspires a fabulous Facebook status update!

This title comes courtesy of Kira, whose Facebook status after our trip to Disneyland on Saturday read:

Had fun at Disneyland yesterday :) I just have to say that anyone born in the 90's MUST see World of Color at California Adventure. Was pathetically tearing up in every other scene. COME ON, THEY WERE PLAYING ALADDIN AND THE LION KING, AND JUST AROUND THE FREAKING RIVERBEND.

Is that the sequel to Pocahontas – 'Just Around The Freaking Riverbend'? Because it totally should be.

Anyway, backing up a little, last week just about killed me. In a freak of nature never to be repeated again, Rigel and I went out THREE nights in a row (more about that later) without the kids. These three events, while fun, required me to actually dress up, put on makeup and wear heels, and by the time I got to bed Friday night my feet hurt, my back was killing me and I may or may not have realized that in my sleepy haze I had accidentally brushed my teeth with hand cream.

Either way, my teeth are really soft and supple now.

Read more...

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This just doesn't add up

I originally wrote this post for the LA Moms Blog, part of the Silicon Valley Moms blog collective that consisted of fourteen sites from around the country and Canada. Sadly, the site will be closing this month – I'm going to miss the network of amazing writers I had the privilege of working with there. I've decided to republish my posts from the site here on my personal blog as a way of preserving them once they take the site down permanently, and also because that's one less original blog post I have to write. Some may call that lazy, cheap and repetitive, but I just call it resourceful. And maybe lazy.

As I child, I puzzled my teachers.  My inability to add six columns of numbers in my head or multiply fractions in nanoseconds confounded them.  Why couldn’t I figure out the circumference of all the circles in the diagram and calculate how many of them it would take to fill up the Pentagon? What could be so hard about averaging the number of miles Janie and Mike traveled in a day in their Chrysler that got 50 miles per gallon?

After all, they assumed, I’m Asian.  I should be good at math.

I hated this stereotype.  Why couldn’t it be something more glamorous, like assuming that I could wield a killer Samurai sword, or even something with some ick-factor, like thinking that I ate sushi made from live fish every night for dinner. That would at least have given me some mystique on the playground.  I could see it now, packing away a goldfish in my lunchbox when my parents weren’t looking and then later sitting down in the cafeteria, a small crowd gathered around me as I carefully laid out small sheets of seaweed on my cardboard tray. They’d cover their eyes as I pretended to slurp the little critter down with my carton of milk. 

Even worse, I couldn’t live up to this pathetic stereotype.  Other kids would try to copy off my paper, thinking that surely my Asian ancestry would help me multiply those fractions correctly and I didn’t have the heart to tell them that I’d just copied the answers off of Andrew, the kid next to me picking his nose and scraping scabs off his arm.  I think I even brought an abacus to school once just so I wouldn’t disappoint them.  I bent over the board and my fingers furiously flew over the beads as the teacher recited numbers.  When I had supposedly come up with the answer, I banged a gong, bowed deeply and burned some incense at my desk.

Really, it wasn’t until college that a math teacher finally realized that I wasn’t a math whiz and actually didn’t have dreams of working for IBM and becoming the world’s greatest accountant. “You don’t say?  You’re not good at math?  This isn’t some cagey act to get out of joining the Calculus Team?  Now let me get this straight – you really did think 'square root' was some sort of gardening term?”

It’s hard to say whether my two daughters will have an equally heavy cross to bear.  Though bi-racial, they look more Asian than anything else and I’m already suspicious of the motives of their teachers and counselors.  After twice declining, my older daughter was moved up to an algebra class instead of the pre-algebra course that we had requested and that most seventh graders are enrolled in.  I made an appointment with the counselor, armed with my ammo in case any hint of the Asian Math Myth reared it’s ugly head, and was surprised when he informed me that she had been moved into an advanced class because she had scored high on a pre-entry exam. 

I was totally taken aback.  Seriously?  You mean she actually did figure out what x + y was equal to?

Well, there goes another myth out the window.  Because everyone knows – this family, we suck at math.

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The Devil Wears Uggs

It must be the art director in me, but sometimes before I start writing a post I come up with an image first. For example, if I'm writing a post about summer I might think about a beach scene or a margarita, or if I'm writing about a particularly annoying parent at the school I might come up with an image of a snarling pitbull covered in flies and driving a minivan. Hey, you have your method for getting inspired and I have mine.

So when I started writing a post on online safety for this month's Yahoo Motherboard, I immediately started seeing images of sweaty guys in trenchcoats, or glassy-eyed dudes sitting in front of their computer screen eating nachos and slurping on a Bud Light. So much for going through pictures of my ex-boyfriends! But then something surprising happened -- once I started thinking of who really posed an immediate threat to my kids online, I came up with an entirely different visual altogether, and these villains were wearing cute boots and jumpers from Forever 21.

Because in my opinion, the more urgent threat, the one that I've already encountered with both of my girls, is the one that comes from the frenemy sitting behind them in algebra or the ex-best friend now going to a school on the other side of town who can't let go of a grudge. That's right, I'm talking girl-on-girl offenses, and not the kind you've seen on Showtime at 3am, either.

I'm not sure if you've heard, but tween and teen girls can be vicious. Not only mean, but conniving, clever, merciless and secretive. Oh, and possessed with stamina like you wouldn't believe -- I've seen Facebook fights go on for days at a time at a level that would leave hardened criminals begging to be un-friended. 

We've been lucky in that the most harassment our girls have had to endure has consisted of some name calling and a couple of online spats, but cyberbullying is on the rise and I'm keeping my eyes and ears open for any signs of trouble. I try to monitor their online contacts carefully, and spy on their Facebook pages regularly. This in itself is a painful experience -- you think you're raising them right and then come to find they've used valuable wall space to tag their friends on a Pokemon poster according to their 'traits.' And spelled 'huggable' wrong.

I'm not denying the dangers of the online world -- I know that predators are out there and that the possibility of strangers threatening my kids is real. But I think that the more tangible, immediate threat to my tween and teen daughters is probably not the pervert in Germany inviting them to a Skype underwear dance party, but is more likely the ex-bff who decides that she's going to start a rumor 'just for fun' or the friend who thinks that IM'ing their crush's name to the entire 7th grade is hi-larious.

And then there's the bigger threat -- I hear that hell hath no fury like the angry classmate who decides that she didn't like being tagged 'Hugable Pikachu.' There's no task force for that, and we should be afraid, very afraid.

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tags: online safety | cyberbullying | yahoo motherboard

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Our dismal future

If you've met Kiyomi you'd know that she has a slightly alarming obsession with money. Whether it's trying to score extra change from her family, or dreaming of the untold wealth she's going to accumulate in the future, the mighty dollar is never far from her mind. It's always disconcerting to hear an 11-year-old say, "You're going to be so sorry when I'm rich and famous," but we told her grandmother she was only joking.

Not surprisingly, she's chosen to pursue a career in entertainment. Can you blame her? With the images kids see around them these days they all think that they can be rolling in dough like Miley Cyrus or Paris Hilton. We're trying to be as supportive as we can, but the other day I gave her a lecture about the importance of doing quality work as opposed to just doing something for the money. She couldn't hear me because Jersey Shore was blaring away on the TV, but I think she got the message.

One of the ways her big-money plans have manifested itself is in the mansion she talks about building with her eventual fortune. At last count it had more than 60 rooms and boasted a game room, a bowling alley, a screening room, three pools and a kennel. She's always promised Rigel and I our own space in these future digs and although we always just chuckled and sighed at how "cute" this all sounded, I sometimes wonder if it's the only thing standing between us and a double-wide on a dusty lot.

And boy does she know it. Lately, if one of us reprimands her or she doesn't like how a particular situation is going, she'll narrow her eyes, lower her voice in mock disdain and say,

"Your room in my mansion? JUST GOT SMALLER."

At least we hope she's joking. After Rigel got on her case the other day about not cleaning the cat box I saw her furiously on her phone texting. I think she was talking to her architects, and I'm pretty sure I heard her mention the words 'broom closet.' We may have to raise her allowance.

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LA Moms Blog: Lessons Learned

I have a new post up over at the LA Moms Blog. It's a story about the piano teacher I had when I was a little girl, but don't expect a warm, fuzzy nostalgic look back at years filled with a wondrous discovery of music. No, it's more of a bitter, angry tale of a cold, distant woman who made me never want to sit down at a piano again. Not that I blame her for my lack of musical talent, but I do credit her with instilling in me a deep fear of false eyelashes.

I took piano lessons for years when I was young but don't ask me to sit down at the piano at your dinner party and play "Ode To Joy" or request my keyboard accompaniment when you sing, "Always and Forever" at your sister's wedding. (Don't laugh -- you know you've never been to a wedding where they didn't play that song.)

And the reason is, I don't remember how to a play a single thing after all those lessons and that drain on my parents' bank account. In fact, one of the only things I remember has nothing to do with perfecting my scales or learning the difference between a major and a minor chord. It's this: I remember my piano teacher's false eyelash coming off during a lesson and fluttering down to her cheek, where it sat for the next thirty minutes, totally unbeknownst to her...Read More...

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tags: music lessons for kids | piano teachers | la moms blog

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