#ALSO i have not played soccer ([raises hand] canadian) since i was about 7 and i do not remember much but i DO remember the orange slices

[imaginariumgeographica]

"Ponder looked across and Rincewind now, and he was hopping awkwardly on one leg, trying to put a sock back on. He thought it better not to comment. It was probably the same sock."

-From Unseen Academicals

Ponder decides to comment.

~~~

Rincewind was sitting on a step, feet stuck out in front of him with one sock fallen down around his ankle. Catching sight of this, Ponder paused, remembering, and then veered over to Rincewind.

Rincewind gave Ponder a half-suspicious glance as he sat down on the step beside him, but didn't say anything, just went back to studiously eating the sliced oranges Nutt had produced from who-knows-where.

“So,” Ponder said, still looking at the one loose sock, "earlier, when the Archchancellor and the De- when the two Archchancellors were...arguing."

In the pause, Rincewind looked sideways at Ponder, then followed his gaze to his own sock. He frowned, and tugged the cuff up around his calf, where it slid, defiantly, a few centimetres back down. He bit into another orange slice.

Ponder plowed on. It was his experience that you could lead a wizard to water, but it still sometimes took a hearty shove between the shoulders to get them to drink.

"They say you defeated the Sourcerer," Ponder said, "with a half brick in a sock."

"Do they?" Rincewind said, lightly.

"They do," Ponder confirmed.

"Hmph," said Rincewind. "No-one ever thanked me for that. You know I got stuck in the dungeon dimensions after that bright idea? Have you ever been to the dungeon dimensions?"

"Um," said Ponder.

"I cannot recommend it," Rincewind went on. "Besides," he added, "he was just a kid...the Sourcerer? There was this staff..."

He trailed off, absently spinning the half-slice of orange around in his hand. Ponder watched him for a moment to see if he was going to say anything else, then returned to his line of questioning.

"So earlier," he said, "I thought I saw you with that sock -" he nodded to it, and Rincewind interrupted.

"There was a stone in it?" It was a question more than a statement.

"A stone."

"Mhm."

"Inside your sock."

"Yes."

"Not just your shoe."

"It was ah, persistent."

Ponder gave Rincewind a look. Rincewind returned it defiantly and bit into his orange slice. Juice dripped down his wrist.

"What was the plan?" Ponder pressed.

"Plan?" Rincewind looked incredulously up from licking orange juice off his hand. "You know how much time plans make? Of course you do, you're you, that was a rhetorical question. What I meant was I -" He stopped, absently wiped his wrist on the knee of his robe, "I was just reacting, alright. Something was going to happen and I was thinking of, remembering, um, before and it seemed like, oh gods, I'm going to have to do something again which yes in hindsight is stupid, the university's full of wizards except it was then too and it seems like it's always me who has to and..." Rincewind stopped again.

"I like to think I had the situation under control," said Ponder, a bit primly.

"I'm sure you do," said Rincewind, but with what Ponder thought was a microscopic smile.

"Anyway," said Ponder, "where were you going to get a half-brick?"

"When wizards start tossing around that kind of magic," Rincewind said, tiny smile wiped away, "they tend to turn up."

Ponder frowned, and finally let the matter lie.

"You, um," he said, "played well today?" He tried very hard to make it seem as though he knew what he was talking about and wasn't entirely sure he succeeded.

Especially when Rincewind raised an eyebrow and said, "Did I?"

"Um," said Ponder.

"Tell me, Ponder," Rincewind said, "how much do you understand about football?"

"Um," said Ponder again, and tried to recall some of what Nutt had said about beauty and chess...

And Rincewind was definitely laughing at him, silently, with only the crinkling of his eyes and a slight lift of the corners of his mouth.

"It's not important," said Ponder, sounding stuffy even to himself, "for me to understand everything. That's why I delegated."

"Of course," said Rincewind, seriously.

But he was still making that silent-laughter face, and Ponder found he didn't really mind.

[13uswntimagines]

We’re the Lucky Ones (Christen Press x Reader)

Request: the reader is a recovering drug addict and doesn’t think they deserve everything they have? if you want to maybe incorporate cp as the reader's wife

Author’s Note: This one was also going to be way more angsty, but when i sat down to write it, this popped out. I hope you enjoy! Hit me up with comments, and feedback or if you just wanna say Hi!

The little red poker chip felt heavy in your hand, the ridges catching on your fingers as you rubbed it. As you traced the little 1 that was imprinted in the center. 

A year ago, you never thought that you would see this day. The day that marked your 1 year anniversary of being clean. The fight to get here was rough, an uphill climb they called it, but you could honestly say that you felt so much better like this. And it helped that you were no longer at risk of losing everything you held near and dear to you. That you no longer had to push them away out of fear. 

“You ready babe?” Christen asked from the driver's seat beside you. Her hand moved to cover your own, stopping you from rolling the poker chip between your fingers. You sighed, finally meeting her eyes. 

“You promise it’s just Tobin, Kell, and Lex right? Like the youngins didn’t convince you that I wanted a party?” You asked hesitantly. While some people thought that it was a celebratory occasion, you just wanted it to be normal. 

You shouldn’t need a one-year sobriety date at all. They shouldn’t have to worry about you taking pain killers after a game. You shouldn’t have let them down in the first place, and you didn’t want to draw any more attention to your worst life choices and coping mechanisms than absolutely necessary. 

****

See, 2016 had been very difficult. Your mom died three weeks before the start of the Olympics, and your dad forbade you from going to the funeral because you were dating Christen. Then three games in you had a collision with a Canadian defender and ended up with a broken clavicle, benching you for the rest of the tournament. The team lost and Christen was devastated and you couldn’t help but blame yourself because you were benched. 

Instead of coping like a normal person, you self medicated with the pain pills you were given. You limped along like that, abusing pain meds and hiding your spiraling from your wife and your friends. Things had come to a head 7 months before the World Cup, and you had almost lost everything. You went to rehab, made the team, and brought home the gold. 

*****

“It’s only Tobin, Kell, and Lex and we’re just going to play some footie and get some ice cream,” Christen nodded, bringing her hand up to affectionately rub your cheek and pull you in for a chaste kiss. You smiled and your shoulders relax as you released a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“Cool,” You mumbled, resting your forehead on her shoulder and taking in the comforting smell that surrounded her. You loved your wife and you would tell her every day. She ran her fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp. Her head rested on yours. 

“I’m so proud of you,” She murmured, kissing the sling just behind your ear. 

“You shouldn’t have to be,” you grumbled, sitting up and straightening your shirt. 

“Well I am,” She smiled triumphantly, more than used to you wanting to minimize every one of your sobriety milestones. She knew how hard you worked to make unnecessary amends. You were the one who decided to accept help and the one who took each very difficult step in recovery. And she would stand by you and help you through the rest. 

*****

A day playing footie with your best friends and wife was exactly what you needed to lift your spirits. Between Kelley’s antics and Tobin's jokes, you were in a better mood than ever. Alex’s pout every time you megged her was priceless and Christens giggle put you even more at ease. 

You were sitting under a tree, as it was your turn to sit out in the 2 v 2 game, focusing on Christen’s footwork (definitely not checking her out). 

You were staring so intently that you didn’t see the other ball flying in your direction, only looking up when a loud “Hey look out!!!” Caught your attention. You moved just in time to catch the soccer ball headed straight for your head, smiling at a little girl who came racing your way. 

“Whoa, kid, nice foot you got there,” You laughed, tossing the ball back towards the little girl, her cheeks flaming red. 

“I promise I wasn’t aiming for you!” The girl rushed out, not noticing your friends walking up behind her, nearly jumping out of her skin when Tobin grasper hef shoulder. 

“Don’t tell her that kid, makes the shot way less impressive,”

“What’s your name?” Alex asked, kneeling down to be eye level with her. 

“C-Camren,” She stuttered, clearly enamored by the number of national team players surrounding her. 

“Well Camren, since you almost pegged me in the head, how bout I sign it for ya?” You sent her a lopsided grin. 

“Really?” Camren asked with wide eyes. 

“Sure kid,” Your wife nods, picking up her purse from behind you to get a marker. She dug through her bag looking for a Sharpe she kept for this occasion.

“Excuse me, I don’t want to cause a problem, but are you sure she should be around kids?” A woman who she assumed was the child’s mom approached her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. Christen looked up at the woman, raising her eyebrow. 

“Why?”

“Well I’m sure you ladies are aware of her… history,” The woman said hesitantly, glancing your way with disdain, and you froze the ball falling to the grass. 

“Oh, right,” you cleared your throat, trying to squash the feeling of shame, your good mood suddenly gone. You glanced down at the ball settled in the grass, refusing to look up.“well I’m sure my friends would like to sign your ball,” You sent the girl a pained smile, covering your grimace. 

“They certainly make better role models, honestly I don’t know how you stayed with her after everything she pulled,” Camren’s mother snorted as you stood, her lip curling. “you don’t deserve her,” 

Your shoulders sunk and you nodded. 

“I know, I’m gonna go,” you mumbled, pointing towards the car. You knew that Christen deserved so much better than you, but having it thrown in your face hurt. 

“I’ll go with you,” Kelley leaped up, intertwining your arms and shooting your wife a questioning glance. 

“I’ll be there in a second,” She waves you off, her lips forming a thin line. Tobin took off after you, stealing your hat when she caught up. 

“Good riddance,” The lady mumbled under her breath, staring a hole in your back as you left, missing the agitated glance Alex and Christen shared. Today was about covertly celebrating how well you were doing, about combatting the thoughts that you struggled with, not dredging up the past. 

“You know, she’s the strongest person I’ve ever met, and it’s a shame that you can’t see past a mistake,” Alex said deadly calm. The woman scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. 

“Once an addict always an addict,”

“See that’s the problem, you think you know her and the whole story and you don’t. Your kids would be lucky to turn out half as well as she has. She made her mistake and works every day to make up for it,” Christen ground out with, not sparing the woman another glance as she gathered up your belonging and stalked off towards you, shaking her head. How could people be so close-minded? 

*****

You licked your ice cream slowly, refusing to make eye contact with the four women shooting you worried glances. You were being very quiet, too quiet. 

Kelley raised her eyebrows, tilting her head in your direction and making a bunch of weird facial expressions as if to say that they needed to do something about your mopeyness. It had plagued you for a long time, your unyielding need for atonement, despite having already received it. 

Christen shook her head, afraid that pushing you would do more harm than good. Kelley rolled her eyes, deciding that if no one else was going to do it, then she was. 

“Don’t listen to any of the shit that lady said,” She said offhandedly, licking her cone and completely stopping the flow of the small talk the other three women had been having. You froze, pulling the spoon out of your mouth with a pop, wide eyeing the group. 

“I just..- she’s right. No kid should ever look up to an ex-drug addict,” You mumbled, returning your spoon to the icecream and stirring it, staring at it intently. 

“No, they should look up to the woman who has sought help,” Your wife hummed, placing a finger under your chin and forcing your y/e/c orbs to meet your own. 

“The woman who would do anything for her friends, even if it meant burying all of her own pain,” Tobin added, her hand covering yours and rubbing circles on it. 

“The most loving and supportive women that I’ve ever met,” Alex smiled, nudging your shoulder, effectively creating an Y/n sandwich with Kelley. Christen placed a chaste and gentle kiss on your lips, leaving behind the taste of her pistachio ice cream. You licked your lips chasing the flavor. 

“I’m lucky to have you guys. I don’t think I would have been able to do this without you,” You murmured, pulling the little red chip from your pocket and spinning it absentmindedly through your fingers. It was a habit you had acquired in rehab that followed you throughout your recovery. You flicked the chip with your thumb, sending it tumbling through the air, only for it to be caught by Kelley. Your eyes snapped or hers. 

“We’re the lucky ones to have someone as strong as you,”

[annelotteverweij]

Some Emerging Answers For Intelligent Products Of Iso Xp Whey Protein

Some Simple Guidance On Fundamental Criteria For New Zealand Grass Fed Whey Protein Canada

However, it does contain the aforementioned whey protein (non-grass-fed), magnesium oxide, and very small amounts of B vitamins that are essentially useless in the given dose (0.5-1mg). In "other ingredients,” organic cane sugar is the first on the list (meaning there’s a good amount of it), and Stevia appears as well. So exactly how much powdered corn, soy, and canola oil do you want to ingest on a daily basis? All three of these ingredients are part of Soylent Powder . The process of making oil into a powder requires maltodextrin, which is a high-glycemic artificial sweetener typically derived from corn. It is championed for its easy absorbability, but that means it’s going straight into your bloodstream, which may beget a rollercoaster of spiked blood sugar, insulin secretion, stress hormone release, and the eventual crash. As for the rest of its 40 ingredients, Soylent contains several synthetic vitamins, which are essentially watered-down versions of the real thing—only half as active and less absorbable. Also listed in the ingredients are sodium ascorbate and thiamine hydrochloride. Though natural, they are the less expensive forms of vitamins with low bioavailability, meaning that our bodies don’t absorb them very well. Soylent also contains other cheap additives (soluble corn fiber, and mono and diglycerides that may contain trans fats ), as well as 7 grams of added sugar, and soy lecithin, which may be a concern to those worried about food-based estrogens. If the goal is to thrive, it’s safe to say that this drink would not be our first choice. When it comes to Shakeology and Isagenix, many—I think we can hazard to say most—of the folks selling these products do not have a background in nutrition. As is typical with multi-level marketing companies, sellers often have unrelated full-time jobs and use the supplement business as part-time income.

For the original version including any supplementary images or video, visit https://greatist.com/eat/beachbody-isagenix-soylent-protein-shake-reviews

Tips To Establishing Your Personal Fitness Goals!

Increasing your fitness and health is a fantastic goal. It can be intimidating, especially if you are poor shape right now, but fitness is attainable. The ideas and tips in the article below will set you on the road towards achieving your fitness goals. You will feel better about yourself and be healthier. Lifting weights is one way that people try to become fit. You really don't need all that equipment to stay in shape, however. Just doing pushups, handstand pushups, leg raises, squats, bridges and pullups is enough to keep you fit. Get an exercise regimen that works for your body, and it will be easy to stay at it. If you choose something you enjoy, you'll be excited to work out. Doing some simple pushups can be a great way to tone up triceps. But not the standard push-up, if you turn your hands with the fingers facing towards each other, it will target the triceps. Those triceps will melt like butter then harden like stone beneath the stress of these high-quality push-ups. Change up your workout regiment by doing various exercises. This will help avoid routine in your fitness plan and keep you motivated to come back to your workout the next day. Your body also needs variety so that you don't cause a stall in your results due to your body finding the same exercises too easy. Strong thighs are important to prevent knee injuries. Tearing a ligament in back of the kneecap is a sports injury that occurs quite frequently. Exercising both the hamstrings and quads will ensure knee safety. Leg extensions and curls are great exercises to accomplish this. You can use wall sits to build up your leg muscles. The first thing you must do is find a wall with enough room for you to squat against. Stand approximately a foot and a half away from the wall. Lean back with your knees bent until the length of your back meets the wall. Continue lowering yourself toward the ground by bending your knees until you reach a position that mimics the act of sitting in a chair. Hold this position until you cannot stand it anymore. Tons of crunches alone are not going to get you six-pack abs. Your muscles may get stronger, but nothing will really happen with respect to the fat on your stomach. To get yourself a set of washboard abs, you must start eating better while doing resistance and cardio training. Before starting your workout, test the padding thickness of the bench by pressing fingers down into the cushion firmly. Choose a different machine if you can feel the hard wood beneath the cushion. If there is not enough padding and support you could end up with bruises or even worse, you must have the correct support when working out. It's pretty hard to feel good or be as healthy as you should be if you don't take steps to get into shape and then stay fit. This can be a real challenge if it's been a long time since you exercised, but a little help will help you a great deal. Use the tips in this article to work on your fitness level and to achieve your goal of maximum fitness.

Top Insights For 2017 On Effortless Plans Of Canada

Calgary, Halifax, York Region, Ont., and Port City, B.C. approved to join Canadian Premier League Posted: May 06, 2018 10:22 AM MT | Last Updated: May 7 Calgary was among four groups approved for professional club membership by Soccer Canada on Saturday. (Darryl Dyck/Canadian Press) Spruce Meadows will be the home grounds for Calgary's Tier 1 professional soccer club when the Canadian Premier League launches next season, newly appointed team president Ian Allison confirmed Sunday. "We have a number of designs underway," he said. "One of the great things we have that puts us at a bit of an advantage over some of our colleagues is that we have a great infrastructure at Spruce Meadows that also has, if you will, federation approved facilities — a different federation albeit — with grass rings and drainage and all those types of things so there are a number of things that are going to be unveiled in the next couple of weeks." Calgary was one of four groups approved for professional club membership by Soccer Canada at its annual general meeting in Yellowknife, paving the way for them to join the CPL. MORE ALBERTA NEWS |  What matters most to Albertans: Poll results set the stage for 2019 election​ Clubs from Halifax, Port City, B.C., and York Region, Ont., also got the seal of approval. Port City is not an actual city in B.C., but is thought to represent an as yet unnamed city in the Lower Mainland, though no official announcement has been made.  The CPL was approved for league membership with Soccer Canada last year, along with clubs in Hamilton and Winnipeg. Ian Allison was named president of Spruce Meadows Sports and Entertainment, the ownership group behind Calgary's Tier 1 professional soccer team. (ROLEX/YouTube) CPL is set to debut as a professional men's soccer league in the spring of 2019, and will serve as a Tier 1 league. FIFA, the sport's world governing body, still has to approve the league and its clubs. Recognition from Canada's national association was a necessary step before that could happen.  Spruce Meadows Sports and Entertainment will be the ownership group behind the Calgary team. Allison said players will come from all over the world, "but the majority of them on the field of play will be Canadian." Known as one of the world's premier equestrian facilities since it opened in the 1970s, Allison said making the jump into soccer isn't that much of a stretch for Spruce Meadows. "It's truly an international game, the most international game," he said.

For the original version including any supplementary images or video, visit http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/calgary/calgary-halifax-york-region-port-city-soccer-1.4650706

Vitamins And Minerals: Essential To Your Health

Taking essential vitamins and minerals regularly can keep you in good health. However, most folks don't know what vitamins are the most essential, or even where to shop for them. Keep reading for some great advice on finding the supplements that you need. If your supplement has fat, make sure you take it with your meal. Vitamins E, K and A are vitamins that do not absorb into the body without the help of food. They work best if the food you are eating them with contains fat. Sun and milk represent two great sources of vitamin D. Whey Protein If you don't drink a lot of milk or aren't in the sun a lot, you need to get a supplement that has vitamin D in it. This vitamin is good for keeping your bones from becoming brittle, so they don't break as easily. Iron is a key component for building red blood cells. The red blood cells are required to carry oxygen to every part of your body. Women generally need more iron than men, which is why there are some iron supplements that are just for women. If you are feeling exhausted or having trouble breathing, you may not be getting enough iron. Asparagus, dairy products, and bananas are rich sources of riboflavin. Vitamin B2 deficiency can lead to a variety of conditions, including cracked lips, scaly skin, and a reduction in red blood cells. This nutrient also stops cancer, carpal tunnel, and anemia. We often try to eat healthy, but our budgets often make it difficult to do so. Taking proper vitamin and mineral supplementation can help your body perform at optimum levels. It may also counteract some less than desirable foods. Vitamin supplement are essential these days. Many foods in the grocery stores are over-processed, which leads to the depletion of many nutrients. Taking a natural multivitamin is one way to make sure you're getting essential nutrients. Ask your doctor to give you a physical exam to check for vitamin and mineral deficiencies. This way, you can know which supplements you will need to rectify any such problems. With the economy as it is, many people are looking to quick, cheap and fast food to get them by, and missing out on valuable nutrients in the process. Make sure to buy a good multivitamin or supplements that will let your body fight disease and turn the fat to energy. It's important to get accurate information about any type of vitamin or mineral supplement. Lots of advertisements only want to sell the product, not care about for your health. You should go into any potential purchase with serious doubts when the claims seem extraordinary. If you are at all doubtful about a supplement, talk it over with your doctor. Use caution when it comes to supplements. It is possible to overdose on them. This occurs often when too many supplements are taken, and the danger is real. Depending on the vitamin, some of these overdoses can even threaten your life. Remember that some vitamins and minerals, such as calcium carbonate, must be taken with food. It is best when it is taken with food. Your body cannot properly absorb this nutrient without food. There are many prescription meds and over the counter meds that react adversely with vitamin supplements. Some of these interactions can be life threatening. It is important to alert your physician to all vitamins and supplements that you ingest. Always consult a pharmacist about possible side effects when you purchase OTC medications. Your body needs 21 essential vitamins and minerals every day. If you do not have them, you will experience poor health. Use the tips listed above to get the nutrients you need.

[jeannette-marshall-optioneerjm]

Nagging moms raise more successful girls!

I love going to Google to look for an image, usually mid-way through, while writing a blog.  Ironically, the more productive I feel in real life, the better the writing seems to become.  If looking at the stats on meanderingABOUT and YUPPYdom are a strong indication. Finding the perfect image to compliment the point I want to emphasis, often buried in all the other stuff I write.  I might start out with a strong title and then start writing.  However, once the image has been chosen, there is a strong likelihood that the title will change along with it. I could spend hours looking at Pinterest art and photographic splendor:  there is a LOT of talent out there in the universe.   Thankfulness I may be slightly off the mark in my thankfulness blog to commemorate our Canadian Thanksgiving this year earlier in October [ usually, it fall around the third week of October, or so I thought ]. I’m sure my brother is thankful every October.  That is when he married his love of his life, his wife.  He was kinda private about relationships from what I remember growing up.  He is affectionately stereotyped as the Baby Boomer Older Sibling or BBOS (yes, somewhat bossy, but typically laid back unless you touched one of his record albums and left a speck of dust, he’d punch you in the arm). Not anywhere else.  Just the arm.  Thankfully, it never happened very often.  In fact, once was quite enough.  

Ironically, growing up in the 1960s was not all about being groovy and surrounded by peace and love.  From what I recall, corporal punishment was outlawed just before me.  Happy to note, such an adventure to the principal’s office for the strap is not among the repertoire of experiences I have had. Yes, the innocent aura of my tribe of 1961 friends and classmates.  Yes, the worst year in history according to demographic specialists who authored “Boom Bust or Echo”.  Light reading for a 25 year old to be sure.  That would have been in 1986.  A self-confessed YUPPY of a bygone era, overshadowed by Millennial entitlement, a product of our generous and forgiving parenting style where we tried to reason, take away “privileges”  the worst punishment these hipsters had to endure.  That, and our endless nagging or demanding Mom. That REMINDS ME!!  One of my daughters texted me with a link to the following: “Study:  Girls with nagging moms grow up to be more successful”

READ:  Nagging moms …. LINK

YES, this is the same one who gave me the PINK SLIP a couple of weeks ago.  One minute I’m driving her crazy and the next, I’m her hero. The best story of nagging happened when she was at the enlightened age of 13.  As a January baby, beginning school at 3 because I recognized that she had a very inquisitive mind and knowledge student.   I was trying to think of a gift for my son, who would have been 16 at Christmas.  That’s when you start to realize that gifts are not masses of stuff but one perfectly thought out gift that connects with the age appropriateness of a boy starting the difficult journey of becoming a man.  Not something too boyish, it was getting to be a real bore buying a video game or a video console every year.  It was also expensive and not quite memorable. In steps my daughter, where we’re about to embark in the biggest mother-daughter battle of our respective generations.  Setting the tone for the next 15 to 20 years.  She suggests that I get him two tickets to this concert in February just in and around his birthday.   Brilliant!  Now I had not even thought of that!  Probably because it was not uncommon for me to take them and pals to the Glenbow Museum in Calgary [when I did have to pay for entrance, having years ago been their advertising representative, attending free openings, general meetings, shareholder meetings, artist presentations, launching shows].  They all had been to live performances with me from The Nutcracker to Phantom of the Opera to The Wiz on Broadway in New York, NY. So I did buy those two tickets as my lovely offspring suggested.  Son was just “meh” over the present.  He didn’t even appear interested with his sister’s first pay-as-you-go cell phone [ one of the reasons she turned into a math whiz I’m sure, from learning to subtract backwards on declining minutes of coolness ]. Well, as it happens.  The daughter had actually wanted to go to said concert.  She was 9/10 convinced that her brother would reward her thoughtfulness for coming up with the idea, that he would ask her to go with him. As the date of the concert started to draw closer, her hints were replaced by out-and-out-demands that he take her to the concert. As the most perfect brother would, he just didn’t respond.  The more she squawked, the less he noticed.  

It was time to go to war.  It was time to get everyone on her side of the army to help convince her brother that she was the most logical and OBVIOUS partner. He didn’t agree.  I respected his decision, reinforcing that choice every time she peeped up. The day of the concert also happened to be when I was going to compete in a Toastmasters’ International Contest by giving a speech.  I was nervous already, about to step off the cliff of my comfort zone and compete.   Dressed to the nines to work I went that day.  Thinking back as one of the most disastrous days as a mother.   Like any army general, I had the battalion organized with the support and help of the Master Sgt, my mother, and her side kick, my father.  I would pick up the one daughter at home with my son, then drop her off at my parents, who would pick up the youngest daughter from her soccer game, which I had arranged carpooling with another soccer mom.  My parents would feed the girls and my son would eat garbage at the concert and be content after I drove him there with his buddy. Like any well-intentioned-mother, I had clearance from work to leave at four o’clock to “prepare for my contest” that evening.  I was already trying to think of ways I could bow out gracefully without showing the stage fright I was hit with! Happily practicing and rehearsing out loud as I joined the commute home:  not appearing as though I were singing like all the other gals in the various lanes, nope.  I was looking like I was talking to myself!

SOURCE:  Getty Images

Being a single mother of three, perfection was my decree:  the better a job I do at being a parent than their dad, the happier they would be.  No, no yelling.  While a locked jaw clenching my teeth was usually the best sign for the troops to run for cover:  it never looked good and appeared more foreboding than any disciplinary measures handed out. When I arrived home, not one girl was missing but both!  Huh?  Oh, look a note from the articulate writer who confessed to having swiped her brother’s concert tickets and gone to it with her best friend, Stephanie.  {Ironic how both girls best friends when they were 13 were both named Stephanie – I ignored any red flags with the 2nd daughter that I shouldn’t have!} Now that I think of it, I wonder if I ever did save that note.  With butterflies, sunshine and flowers surrounding the words, she begged for forgiveness and understanding on how much SHE wanted to go to the concert.  How mean her brother WAS for not agreeing to take her, she couldn’t stop herself and her best friend from going.  Fear not, she knows what she is doing and will text when she is safely settled into the seats so I won’t worry about her! I aptly stepped into the role of psycho [which a daughter has accused her mother of on more than one occasion].   OMGosh, the competition.  Everything was choreographed and timed to perfection like carefully laid out dominoes [which I never mastered for real].  Now I had to call my mom to tell her that I wouldn’t be dropping off the one daughter, but that didn’t mean that all other plans were in play:  they still needed to pick up the younger daughter at her soccer game at precisely 7:30 p.m.  Of course, I had to wait for her to come to the entrance of her seniors building after riding the elevator down.  

SOURCE:  Allan Sanders

That was fine because like any fierce general faced with combat, I was barking on the phone to the Stephanie mother, who was proudly informing me that she had done her part of the carpooling to the concert since her daughter was so graciously invited to share with mine, apparently, picking them up when it was over after my competition! My competition!  Less than an hour and a half.  Fat chance for rehearsal before the stage.  Hey, I couldn’t make it!  I had to retrieve my daughter from the concert.  I was going to teach her a lesson.

Don’t mess with the mom Everyone knows this.  Wisdom about staying away from Grizzly bear mothers with her cubs is common knowledge! Unfortunately for daughter, she wasn’t aware of doing anything wrong.  She had left me a note, made carpooling arrangements, all without interfering with the original plan. She had a phone! Imagine me texting from the pulled over spot I was at [setting the appropriate example, important at all times, as though children and grandparents have CCTV capabilities that weren’t even installed, or not yet, or were they?  Ensuring mannerly conduct complimenting the polished, professional suit I was in that said:   “I mean business!” Back in that early dawn of the new Millennium of the early 2000s, it likely was a Blackberry, the clear badge of honor most YUPPIES grasped and carried, or hooked on our waists with the blazer casually tucked aside, like a police firearm, the Blackberry.  No professional parent of an honorable upbringing child would NOT have a Blackberry!   Also, we didn’t have SMART PHONES where we could thumb or swipe maps and itineraries with merely a flick!  We were thumb champions, children of the 60s, Yuppies of the 80s! I did my best to appear “calm” in my text to said daughter to ask her where she was, trying to appear casual, avoiding betraying at all costs, the combination of rage and panic:  my baby is at a concert without parental attendance! Surely, they would ask for ID or notice that the name on the ticket was in her brother’s name?  You ask?  Well, back then, they were not email confirmations with all the pertinent information like NAME of purchaser, concert seat, which could have easily have been printed out again under any circumstances! Imagine the parking at the Calgary Saddle Dome.  Darn, I couldn’t just pull up as a drop off, I had to pay for parking, look for parking, park, then hoof it to the entrance. Heaven and mercy.  At least the son has a remarkable memory!  He recalled an approximate location of the seats, which he observed where pretty amazing, now that he thought of not having them anymore. The rebellious daughter had not responded to my text.  The nerve!  

I likely gained attention while driving and parking waving my arms and raising eyes to the heavens when telling my buddy, Maddy, what I was in the midst of:  a crisis of massive proportions!   She graciously offered to let the folks know that I would not be able to compete due to an unforeseen family emergency!  [ How many hear that and think:  “she chickened out”? ]  Well I was thinking about it, but now I had no choice! I marched up to the security guard at the entrance attracting some attention for wearing a beautiful navy pant suit, perfectly coiffed hair, aesthetically polished nails and tasteful complimenting accessories and matching shoes with purse! After explaining my situation:  that my daughter had taken her brother’s present and come to the concert without my permission or knowledge and I needed to lock in parenting strategy 101:  grab daughter and eject from the concert. A motley crew we must have appeared:  my five feet zero executive pace, clicking pumps with a purpose in mind.  Accompanied by the security guard who was a big foot Chibawka with less hair, appearing more like a bodyguard.  By then, I was pretty accustomed to flipping eyeballs and raised brows.  

Let’s call him George. While escorting me to the office at the opposite of the building, he asked me for a description of said daughter in case we miraculously crossed paths with the offender.   Only kids born in the 90s remember “EMO” which was the opposite of whatever their parents may have happened to look like:  lots of very dark circles around eyes, fashionable hardly ever!  Black clothes:  black jean jacket, black jeans, black t-shirt, with died pitch black hair.  Maybe carrying her pay-as-you-go flip phone for peers to notice, they were more than happening by being at said concert. George didn’t slow his pace after ingesting the description any decent mother would recall what her child looked like for Pete’s sake [ nobody says:  “Pete’s sake” anymore, you notice?]. He empathetically observed and commented that she would fit right in since she looked like every other concert goer we were speeding past.  

Just as we were approaching the will-call booth to begin closing in on the culprit, I did get a text back [she probably remembered the number one rule she was nagged about when she got her pay-as-you-go-phone:  “always answer the mother, no matter what you are doing, even if on the toilet and asking her to hang on so she could wash her hands”). My daughter’s text calmly advised that I should not worry as she is in her seats, safe.  The concert was about to begin.  She’ll let me know when it is close to ending so I can swing by and pick them up out front. They were so advanced technologically at the time:  all I had to do was provide the attendants with my DEBIT CARD [note:  single mother as stated previously.  CREDIT CARDs go better being part of a couple].  My ID was used to verify that I should be a very irate parent.  They were able to verify that the seats were claimed with the tickets.  The speed in response was amazing! The other security guards were starting to form a circle around me as I waited for the seat details and escort to pick up my daughter.  Trying not to be rude [texting while conversing was unheard of “back then”], I texted to inform daughter that I was in the building, she was going to be surrounded by security guards and her name was going to be said out loud by the act’s lead singer, telling her that she should meet her mother at the concourse!   Never humiliate a child unless you want revenge She gasped and said that she was on the floor, no longer in her seats, so I wouldn’t be able to find her.  By now, I was furiously texting to demand that she give herself up and come out, it wasn’t going to end well for her if she didn’t. Smarty pants response was that the concert was just starting and she’d be coming out when it was done.  My response was less composed when I told her to watch for all the guards’ flashlights going up and down the aisle.  We knew where the seats were.  She could meet me or we could come and get her. When caught in an argument with an adolescent child, name calling, threats don’t work.   The show down was set at the replacement for the Corral in Calgary, the Saddle Dome. The stadium was blacked out with the exception of George and I carefully avoiding taking a tumble, with a flashlight guiding him and his hulk blinding me. She wasn’t there!   We went back to the concourse as my thumbs were warmed up and I reminded her she should be hearing her name any second before the band started. Embarrassment is revenge a parent should enforce.  At 13, being singled out among peers at such a big coolness event with the mention of having a mother, was a disaster worth considering. She gave herself up. There was only so much she was prepared to do.  She walked up to me with Stephanie so casually, as if it was a well thought out planned meeting. “You’re coming with me” George boomed as he grabbed their arms as he started to firmly walk them to someplace he had in mind.  There was no rehearsal on what we would do when they finally gave themselves up.  I was curious somewhat on where we were going, but too puffed up with pride for accosting the culprits:  I was victorious.  I had won.  I had found the stubborn so and so. Every stadium has a jail for wayward tweens and teens, originally intended for drunks and obnoxious folks waiting for a trip to downtown. George took them into the jail I caught a glimpse of a grey room, more like an arena dressing room without any bars. George politely asked me to wait outside I’m sure my look of astonishment wasn’t lost on the girls, who may have decided at that precise moment that the fun was done.  They were catching heat of the shocking kind! After what seemed like a very long time, remembering that everything had been a blur since sailing out of work to glide into my wonderfully planned organizational masterpiece of pulling off being in three places at once. George came out and whispered to me:  ” I really think ‘we’ got them.  What would you like me to do?  Scare them?” Masterfully calm parenting was out the window.  I exclaimed:  “YES!  Make her pay.  She deserves to do the time!” After promising to come out in a few moments, George hailed another enforcer, motioning another Big Foot Chibawka to join me and wait for a few, he needed help escorting a couple of young girls out of the building. True to character, the young darling was miffed and annoyed by the time she reappeared.  Declaring to all within hearing (a wide area) directed to George and complaining to me that a big deal was being made out of nothing. “Nothing?” boomed George, supported by a scowl from his associate.  “Were you not in possession of stolen tickets?” he asked. “Stolen!?!” she responded.  They were her brother’s tickets and they were NOT stolen she declared, indignantly. “Young lady, did you pay for those tickets?” She immediately glared at me to provide support.  I was quite intimidated by the turn of events and remained quiet.  [Not my strongest suit.] George then turned, all 6 or 7 foot of over 200 lbs, quite easily two of me or my daughter and I combined and asked me:  “Ma’am would you like me to take this young lady down to the police station for them to do an inquiry on stolen property?” I gulped and blushed as concert stragglers were being entertained by this scene, suggesting that perhaps that wasn’t necessary if she was prepared to come home with me then and at the same time drop her friend off home on the way. The longest mile You’ve seen in the movies where the police escort or bailiff escorts the criminal to jail or to court.  In our case, it was two imposing figures flanking all three of us as they walked with us to the nearest exit.  George asked if we needed assistance to our vehicle and I assured him it wasn’t far and we were good to go.  As I turned to lead the girls to the car, George winked at me. Oh the shame, embarrassment was the rant the whole drive home, while her friend was frozen in fear to what she may expect when she got home where her mother was waiting.  She had ignored her mother’s frantic calls and text messages as well. After allowing my wayward daughter to exhaust herself from crying and bemoaning how she was going to be the laughing stock when “everyone” heard that her mother had come down to the stadium and hauled her out, narrowly avoiding jail time. Things were pretty quiet by the time we got home.  Her younger sister perched and ready with her grandmother waiting to hear how her heroine, older sister, rebelled and got caught. Per normal, the brother had escaped to his corner of the house, where he often went to when he wanted to avoid “the drama” of the girls. The daughter dutifully brushed her teeth and went to bed without a peep.  Fresh the next day, off to school she went to face the music from her peers.  Respectful, polite and chipper as though what had unfolded the night before was a dream or conjured imagination of events. Of course, by the time I got home that evening, I had no steam left.  Yet my daughter wasn’t apologetic or acting like anything had happened. After dinner, wash up and after less fuss than usual for what time it was to go to bed [not having the “wait till your father hears this” refrain available as a single mother]. When all was quiet, kids settled and snug in their beds, my daughter crept downstairs to check in and see whether I was gritting my teeth still. She approached me quietly and then said that she understood what had happened and how things happened the way they did. She said that I became a hero to all parents who had heard that I hadn’t done what they would have done:  wait at home until they got home before going on the offensive.  I was a hero because I went out of my way to prove that she was wrong.  She then chipper-like confessed that she hadn’t been embarrassed at all.  In fact, she was a hero for being so rebellious by going to the concert alone. Sigh.  That was one of the first struggle over power between my daughter and me.  The never ending saga of being the nagging mother, trying to teach right from wrong, good manners and bad. Like the happy moral of the story that she optimistically revealed of two champions:  a mother and a daughter, each forging their way toward circumstances that required a stand off.  Apparently, both equally glorious.   After a pink slip and the silent treatment, I did reach out and we had a Facetime conversation last weekend.  Lovingly mother and daughter as though it was all par for the course.  She then texted me a note about an artist that I had unveiled a recognized woman who became famous in the 80s when she passed away, sending her pieces to appreciate in value.  Validating that such was the case. Then the text and article about how nagging moms raise more successful girls:  from a daughter skyrocketing in her own right as an emerging artist, scholarships, grants and the Dean’s list earned solely on her own.

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Nagging moms raise more successful girls!

I love going to Google to look for an image, usually mid-way through, while writing a blog.  Ironically, the more productive I feel in real life, the better the writing seems to become.  If looking at the stats on meanderingABOUT and YUPPYdom are a strong indication. Finding the perfect image to compliment the point I want to emphasis, often buried in all the other stuff I write.  I might start out with a strong title and then start writing.  However, once the image has been chosen, there is a strong likelihood that the title will change along with it. I could spend hours looking at Pinterest art and photographic splendor:  there is a LOT of talent out there in the universe.   Thankfulness I may be slightly off the mark in my thankfulness blog to commemorate our Canadian Thanksgiving this year earlier in October [ usually, it fall around the third week of October, or so I thought ]. I’m sure my brother is thankful every October.  That is when he married his love of his life, his wife.  He was kinda private about relationships from what I remember growing up.  He is affectionately stereotyped as the Baby Boomer Older Sibling or BBOS (yes, somewhat bossy, but typically laid back unless you touched one of his record albums and left a speck of dust, he’d punch you in the arm). Not anywhere else.  Just the arm.  Thankfully, it never happened very often.  In fact, once was quite enough.  

Ironically, growing up in the 1960s was not all about being groovy and surrounded by peace and love.  From what I recall, corporal punishment was outlawed just before me.  Happy to note, such an adventure to the principal’s office for the strap is not among the repertoire of experiences I have had. Yes, the innocent aura of my tribe of 1961 friends and classmates.  Yes, the worst year in history according to demographic specialists who authored “Boom Bust or Echo”.  Light reading for a 25 year old to be sure.  That would have been in 1986.  A self-confessed YUPPY of a bygone era, overshadowed by Millennial entitlement, a product of our generous and forgiving parenting style where we tried to reason, take away “privileges”  the worst punishment these hipsters had to endure.  That, and our endless nagging or demanding Mom. That REMINDS ME!!  One of my daughters texted me with a link to the following: “Study:  Girls with nagging moms grow up to be more successful”

READ:  Nagging moms …. LINK

YES, this is the same one who gave me the PINK SLIP a couple of weeks ago.  One minute I’m driving her crazy and the next, I’m her hero. The best story of nagging happened when she was at the enlightened age of 13.  As a January baby, beginning school at 3 because I recognized that she had a very inquisitive mind and knowledge student.   I was trying to think of a gift for my son, who would have been 16 at Christmas.  That’s when you start to realize that gifts are not masses of stuff but one perfectly thought out gift that connects with the age appropriateness of a boy starting the difficult journey of becoming a man.  Not something too boyish, it was getting to be a real bore buying a video game or a video console every year.  It was also expensive and not quite memorable. In steps my daughter, where we’re about to embark in the biggest mother-daughter battle of our respective generations.  Setting the tone for the next 15 to 20 years.  She suggests that I get him two tickets to this concert in February just in and around his birthday.   Brilliant!  Now I had not even thought of that!  Probably because it was not uncommon for me to take them and pals to the Glenbow Museum in Calgary [when I did have to pay for entrance, having years ago been their advertising representative, attending free openings, general meetings, shareholder meetings, artist presentations, launching shows].  They all had been to live performances with me from The Nutcracker to Phantom of the Opera to The Wiz on Broadway in New York, NY. So I did buy those two tickets as my lovely offspring suggested.  Son was just “meh” over the present.  He didn’t even appear interested with his sister’s first pay-as-you-go cell phone [ one of the reasons she turned into a math whiz I’m sure, from learning to subtract backwards on declining minutes of coolness ]. Well, as it happens.  The daughter had actually wanted to go to said concert.  She was 9/10 convinced that her brother would reward her thoughtfulness for coming up with the idea, that he would ask her to go with him. As the date of the concert started to draw closer, her hints were replaced by out-and-out-demands that he take her to the concert. As the most perfect brother would, he just didn’t respond.  The more she squawked, the less he noticed.  

It was time to go to war.  It was time to get everyone on her side of the army to help convince her brother that she was the most logical and OBVIOUS partner. He didn’t agree.  I respected his decision, reinforcing that choice every time she peeped up. The day of the concert also happened to be when I was going to compete in a Toastmasters’ International Contest by giving a speech.  I was nervous already, about to step off the cliff of my comfort zone and compete.   Dressed to the nines to work I went that day.  Thinking back as one of the most disastrous days as a mother.   Like any army general, I had the battalion organized with the support and help of the Master Sgt, my mother, and her side kick, my father.  I would pick up the one daughter at home with my son, then drop her off at my parents, who would pick up the youngest daughter from her soccer game, which I had arranged carpooling with another soccer mom.  My parents would feed the girls and my son would eat garbage at the concert and be content after I drove him there with his buddy. Like any well-intentioned-mother, I had clearance from work to leave at four o’clock to “prepare for my contest” that evening.  I was already trying to think of ways I could bow out gracefully without showing the stage fright I was hit with! Happily practicing and rehearsing out loud as I joined the commute home:  not appearing as though I were singing like all the other gals in the various lanes, nope.  I was looking like I was talking to myself!

SOURCE:  Getty Images

Being a single mother of three, perfection was my decree:  the better a job I do at being a parent than their dad, the happier they would be.  No, no yelling.  While a locked jaw clenching my teeth was usually the best sign for the troops to run for cover:  it never looked good and appeared more foreboding than any disciplinary measures handed out. When I arrived home, not one girl was missing but both!  Huh?  Oh, look a note from the articulate writer who confessed to having swiped her brother’s concert tickets and gone to it with her best friend, Stephanie.  {Ironic how both girls best friends when they were 13 were both named Stephanie – I ignored any red flags with the 2nd daughter that I shouldn’t have!} Now that I think of it, I wonder if I ever did save that note.  With butterflies, sunshine and flowers surrounding the words, she begged for forgiveness and understanding on how much SHE wanted to go to the concert.  How mean her brother WAS for not agreeing to take her, she couldn’t stop herself and her best friend from going.  Fear not, she knows what she is doing and will text when she is safely settled into the seats so I won’t worry about her! I aptly stepped into the role of psycho [which a daughter has accused her mother of on more than one occasion].   OMGosh, the competition.  Everything was choreographed and timed to perfection like carefully laid out dominoes [which I never mastered for real].  Now I had to call my mom to tell her that I wouldn’t be dropping off the one daughter, but that didn’t mean that all other plans were in play:  they still needed to pick up the younger daughter at her soccer game at precisely 7:30 p.m.  Of course, I had to wait for her to come to the entrance of her seniors building after riding the elevator down.  

SOURCE:  Allan Sanders

That was fine because like any fierce general faced with combat, I was barking on the phone to the Stephanie mother, who was proudly informing me that she had done her part of the carpooling to the concert since her daughter was so graciously invited to share with mine, apparently, picking them up when it was over after my competition! My competition!  Less than an hour and a half.  Fat chance for rehearsal before the stage.  Hey, I couldn’t make it!  I had to retrieve my daughter from the concert.  I was going to teach her a lesson.

Don’t mess with the mom Everyone knows this.  Wisdom about staying away from Grizzly bear mothers with her cubs is common knowledge! Unfortunately for daughter, she wasn’t aware of doing anything wrong.  She had left me a note, made carpooling arrangements, all without interfering with the original plan. She had a phone! Imagine me texting from the pulled over spot I was at [setting the appropriate example, important at all times, as though children and grandparents have CCTV capabilities that weren’t even installed, or not yet, or were they?  Ensuring mannerly conduct complimenting the polished, professional suit I was in that said:   “I mean business!” Back in that early dawn of the new Millennium of the early 2000s, it likely was a Blackberry, the clear badge of honor most YUPPIES grasped and carried, or hooked on our waists with the blazer casually tucked aside, like a police firearm, the Blackberry.  No professional parent of an honorable upbringing child would NOT have a Blackberry!   Also, we didn’t have SMART PHONES where we could thumb or swipe maps and itineraries with merely a flick!  We were thumb champions, children of the 60s, Yuppies of the 80s! I did my best to appear “calm” in my text to said daughter to ask her where she was, trying to appear casual, avoiding betraying at all costs, the combination of rage and panic:  my baby is at a concert without parental attendance! Surely, they would ask for ID or notice that the name on the ticket was in her brother’s name?  You ask?  Well, back then, they were not email confirmations with all the pertinent information like NAME of purchaser, concert seat, which could have easily have been printed out again under any circumstances! Imagine the parking at the Calgary Saddle Dome.  Darn, I couldn’t just pull up as a drop off, I had to pay for parking, look for parking, park, then hoof it to the entrance. Heaven and mercy.  At least the son has a remarkable memory!  He recalled an approximate location of the seats, which he observed where pretty amazing, now that he thought of not having them anymore. The rebellious daughter had not responded to my text.  The nerve!  

I likely gained attention while driving and parking waving my arms and raising eyes to the heavens when telling my buddy, Maddy, what I was in the midst of:  a crisis of massive proportions!   She graciously offered to let the folks know that I would not be able to compete due to an unforeseen family emergency!  [ How many hear that and think:  “she chickened out”? ]  Well I was thinking about it, but now I had no choice! I marched up to the security guard at the entrance attracting some attention for wearing a beautiful navy pant suit, perfectly coiffed hair, aesthetically polished nails and tasteful complimenting accessories and matching shoes with purse! After explaining my situation:  that my daughter had taken her brother’s present and come to the concert without my permission or knowledge and I needed to lock in parenting strategy 101:  grab daughter and eject from the concert. A motley crew we must have appeared:  my five feet zero executive pace, clicking pumps with a purpose in mind.  Accompanied by the security guard who was a big foot Chibawka with less hair, appearing more like a bodyguard.  By then, I was pretty accustomed to flipping eyeballs and raised brows.  

Let’s call him George. While escorting me to the office at the opposite of the building, he asked me for a description of said daughter in case we miraculously crossed paths with the offender.   Only kids born in the 90s remember “EMO” which was the opposite of whatever their parents may have happened to look like:  lots of very dark circles around eyes, fashionable hardly ever!  Black clothes:  black jean jacket, black jeans, black t-shirt, with died pitch black hair.  Maybe carrying her pay-as-you-go flip phone for peers to notice, they were more than happening by being at said concert. George didn’t slow his pace after ingesting the description any decent mother would recall what her child looked like for Pete’s sake [ nobody says:  “Pete’s sake” anymore, you notice?]. He empathetically observed and commented that she would fit right in since she looked like every other concert goer we were speeding past.  

Just as we were approaching the will-call booth to begin closing in on the culprit, I did get a text back [she probably remembered the number one rule she was nagged about when she got her pay-as-you-go-phone:  “always answer the mother, no matter what you are doing, even if on the toilet and asking her to hang on so she could wash her hands”). My daughter’s text calmly advised that I should not worry as she is in her seats, safe.  The concert was about to begin.  She’ll let me know when it is close to ending so I can swing by and pick them up out front. They were so advanced technologically at the time:  all I had to do was provide the attendants with my DEBIT CARD [note:  single mother as stated previously.  CREDIT CARDs go better being part of a couple].  My ID was used to verify that I should be a very irate parent.  They were able to verify that the seats were claimed with the tickets.  The speed in response was amazing! The other security guards were starting to form a circle around me as I waited for the seat details and escort to pick up my daughter.  Trying not to be rude [texting while conversing was unheard of “back then”], I texted to inform daughter that I was in the building, she was going to be surrounded by security guards and her name was going to be said out loud by the act’s lead singer, telling her that she should meet her mother at the concourse!   Never humiliate a child unless you want revenge She gasped and said that she was on the floor, no longer in her seats, so I wouldn’t be able to find her.  By now, I was furiously texting to demand that she give herself up and come out, it wasn’t going to end well for her if she didn’t. Smarty pants response was that the concert was just starting and she’d be coming out when it was done.  My response was less composed when I told her to watch for all the guards’ flashlights going up and down the aisle.  We knew where the seats were.  She could meet me or we could come and get her. When caught in an argument with an adolescent child, name calling, threats don’t work.   The show down was set at the replacement for the Corral in Calgary, the Saddle Dome. The stadium was blacked out with the exception of George and I carefully avoiding taking a tumble, with a flashlight guiding him and his hulk blinding me. She wasn’t there!   We went back to the concourse as my thumbs were warmed up and I reminded her she should be hearing her name any second before the band started. Embarrassment is revenge a parent should enforce.  At 13, being singled out among peers at such a big coolness event with the mention of having a mother, was a disaster worth considering. She gave herself up. There was only so much she was prepared to do.  She walked up to me with Stephanie so casually, as if it was a well thought out planned meeting. “You’re coming with me” George boomed as he grabbed their arms as he started to firmly walk them to someplace he had in mind.  There was no rehearsal on what we would do when they finally gave themselves up.  I was curious somewhat on where we were going, but too puffed up with pride for accosting the culprits:  I was victorious.  I had won.  I had found the stubborn so and so. Every stadium has a jail for wayward tweens and teens, originally intended for drunks and obnoxious folks waiting for a trip to downtown. George took them into the jail I caught a glimpse of a grey room, more like an arena dressing room without any bars. George politely asked me to wait outside I’m sure my look of astonishment wasn’t lost on the girls, who may have decided at that precise moment that the fun was done.  They were catching heat of the shocking kind! After what seemed like a very long time, remembering that everything had been a blur since sailing out of work to glide into my wonderfully planned organizational masterpiece of pulling off being in three places at once. George came out and whispered to me:  ” I really think ‘we’ got them.  What would you like me to do?  Scare them?” Masterfully calm parenting was out the window.  I exclaimed:  “YES!  Make her pay.  She deserves to do the time!” After promising to come out in a few moments, George hailed another enforcer, motioning another Big Foot Chibawka to join me and wait for a few, he needed help escorting a couple of young girls out of the building. True to character, the young darling was miffed and annoyed by the time she reappeared.  Declaring to all within hearing (a wide area) directed to George and complaining to me that a big deal was being made out of nothing. “Nothing?” boomed George, supported by a scowl from his associate.  “Were you not in possession of stolen tickets?” he asked. “Stolen!?!” she responded.  They were her brother’s tickets and they were NOT stolen she declared, indignantly. “Young lady, did you pay for those tickets?” She immediately glared at me to provide support.  I was quite intimidated by the turn of events and remained quiet.  [Not my strongest suit.] George then turned, all 6 or 7 foot of over 200 lbs, quite easily two of me or my daughter and I combined and asked me:  “Ma’am would you like me to take this young lady down to the police station for them to do an inquiry on stolen property?” I gulped and blushed as concert stragglers were being entertained by this scene, suggesting that perhaps that wasn’t necessary if she was prepared to come home with me then and at the same time drop her friend off home on the way. The longest mile You’ve seen in the movies where the police escort or bailiff escorts the criminal to jail or to court.  In our case, it was two imposing figures flanking all three of us as they walked with us to the nearest exit.  George asked if we needed assistance to our vehicle and I assured him it wasn’t far and we were good to go.  As I turned to lead the girls to the car, George winked at me. Oh the shame, embarrassment was the rant the whole drive home, while her friend was frozen in fear to what she may expect when she got home where her mother was waiting.  She had ignored her mother’s frantic calls and text messages as well. After allowing my wayward daughter to exhaust herself from crying and bemoaning how she was going to be the laughing stock when “everyone” heard that her mother had come down to the stadium and hauled her out, narrowly avoiding jail time. Things were pretty quiet by the time we got home.  Her younger sister perched and ready with her grandmother waiting to hear how her heroine, older sister, rebelled and got caught. Per normal, the brother had escaped to his corner of the house, where he often went to when he wanted to avoid “the drama” of the girls. The daughter dutifully brushed her teeth and went to bed without a peep.  Fresh the next day, off to school she went to face the music from her peers.  Respectful, polite and chipper as though what had unfolded the night before was a dream or conjured imagination of events. Of course, by the time I got home that evening, I had no steam left.  Yet my daughter wasn’t apologetic or acting like anything had happened. After dinner, wash up and after less fuss than usual for what time it was to go to bed [not having the “wait till your father hears this” refrain available as a single mother]. When all was quiet, kids settled and snug in their beds, my daughter crept downstairs to check in and see whether I was gritting my teeth still. She approached me quietly and then said that she understood what had happened and how things happened the way they did. She said that I became a hero to all parents who had heard that I hadn’t done what they would have done:  wait at home until they got home before going on the offensive.  I was a hero because I went out of my way to prove that she was wrong.  She then chipper-like confessed that she hadn’t been embarrassed at all.  In fact, she was a hero for being so rebellious by going to the concert alone. Sigh.  That was one of the first struggle over power between my daughter and me.  The never ending saga of being the nagging mother, trying to teach right from wrong, good manners and bad. Like the happy moral of the story that she optimistically revealed of two champions:  a mother and a daughter, each forging their way toward circumstances that required a stand off.  Apparently, both equally glorious.   After a pink slip and the silent treatment, I did reach out and we had a Facetime conversation last weekend.  Lovingly mother and daughter as though it was all par for the course.  She then texted me a note about an artist that I had unveiled a recognized woman who became famous in the 80s when she passed away, sending her pieces to appreciate in value.  Validating that such was the case. Then the text and article about how nagging moms raise more successful girls:  from a daughter skyrocketing in her own right as an emerging artist, scholarships, grants and the Dean’s list earned solely on her own.

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from Nagging moms raise more successful girls!