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White floral print pants as made stylish by Sasha in Feb. (would also look great in the coming Spring months).

I have seen some things in my life.

I am not so old that I have seen every single crazy thing that can be imagined, but ... I've see some stuff.

I've seen bugs that live in my back yard that I am pretty sure the National Geographic hasn't even documented ...

Until ...

One day recently ...

When ...

Alexis - my 7 year old daughter - came home from school ...

Walked up to me at my desk ...

Turned herself around ...

Slid her floral pants down to her ankles ...

Bent way over ...

Put her hands on both of her chubby butt cheeks ...

Spread her ladiness really wide ...

And said ...

"It hurts - What's da madda' with it?"

I could not help but see it.

It was right in front of me.

I looked.

I saw!

I thought ...

Well ... NOW - I've seen it all! HOLY ... PUT-YOUR-PANTS-BACK-ON-LITTLE-GIRL --- BATMAN!

I told her we'd get some medicine.

I also told her ...

"Next time ... let's go about that a different way - m'kay?"

She agreed.

Then she giggled.

On the upside ... I'm storing this memory - this sighting - in that section of my brain labeled - "HOLY CRAP!" I don't expect this memory to surface often - but, if it does ... I will quickly push it right back behind those of the cherry blossoms and the Leaning Tower of Pisa - back there with the cobwebs - right behind that memory my sister put in my mind of the dream she had once of my mother standing in the living room of her house --- naked --- with her hand on the stair railing and the other on her hip - one foot on the bottom step - posing there in the nude ... like she was George Washington crossing the Delaware River! YEP - that's where it's goin'!

What an interesting couple. I liked her haircut, the shoulders on her coat, the cuffs on her coat, her use of floral prints, her striped tights, and the ornaments on the vamps of her shoes. HERE is a link to the Original Sized picture, where the details are a bit more noticeable...you might need to double click the picture depending on your computer settings.

So many cool things here. From L to R: Bow mixed with Peter Pan collar, floral print dress, band flats, cool hair cut...

There was practice on Wednesday evenings.

I would take Alexis to gather with her friends and my niece in the choir room on the second floor.

She would chatter in the car on the way across town.

Her excitement was evident.

When I'd pull into the parking lot she would jump from her seat and run from the car as fast as she could.

She would turn back, only briefly, to smile and wave and then she would vanish quickly into the church.

Weeks prior to their first big performance, she would ramble daily about the date to come, the expectations and ... the songs.

She would sing the songs for me.

She would practice her movements.

And then ...

The big day finally arrived.

Alexis set her Betty Boop alarm clock and rose early.

She put on her pretty floral church dress and white shoes.

Mama fixed her hair and sprayed it with a touch of hairspray.

She was ready.

I, with my family, found a seat in the church near the front.

My sister-in-law sat on my right side and my husband was on my left.

My twin daughters were there as well.

We waited.

The music began.

The children entered the sanctuary and made their way to the stage, in front of the pulpit.

They walked quietly and orderly.

They formed a semi-circle ... 3 rows of 10.

They each wore burgundy choir robes in petite sizes.

They looked like little angels.

I searched the faces of the children.

I looked for my niece and I found her.

I waved.

I looked for Alexis.

I looked some more.

I leaned over to my sister-in-law, "Where's Alexis? Do you see Alexis?"

She gazed over at the children.

She leaned back towards me, "There she is," and she pointed, "There --- the one ... wiping the snot ... on her robe sleeve."

"Oh, yes - now I see her ........."

On the upside ... They sang beautifully.

I am in my tiny, little laundry room that is right next to the family room.

As much as I detest doing laundry, I do like my cozy, little laundry room as it has a door on it and since the entire On The Upside family believes this is MY room (because no one has a clue how to do laundry, will go near the laundry room for fear I will ask them to do laundry, never takes it upon themselves to sort, load, fold or hang any laundry ever, whatsoever, at any time!), I can normally wander in there - into MY little 8ft. x 6ft. space -close the door and ESCAPE for brief moments of solitude.

I sort clothes.

I load clothes.

I fold clothes.

I hang clothes.

It's mindless work, really, so ... I am content to hang out there for ten minutes or twenty minutes at a time and escape from all human contact and just let my mind wander and be massaged by the swish - swish - swish of my Kenmore washing machine and the drum - drum - drum of my Kenmore dryer.

It is peaceful, in a laundromat sort of way.

It is simple work and I enjoy moments of simple.

It is relatively quiet and, while my hands are normally quite busy, my rattled brain is offered these daily minutes to be cleansed and massaged back to some semblance of sanity because ...

This is MY 6ft. x 8ft. space in our house.

This is MY little oasis (while not at all tropical and lacking a hammock or even a chair and there are no fruity, umbrella drinks or handsome cabana boys).

But ...

It is often MY refuge ...

That is ...

Unless ...

Alexis searches the house ...

Opens the door ...

And invites her seven year old ...

BOUNCY

LOUD

RAMBUNCTIOUS

TALKATIVE

self ...

Into MY 6ft. x 8ft world.

*sigh*

"Hi Hon."

"Knock - knock."

"Who's there?"

"Banana."

"Banana who?"

"Knock - knock."

"Who's there?"

"Banana."

"Banana who?"

"Knock - knock."

"Who's there?"

"Banana."

"Cabana who?"

"NO - banana!"

"Oh, yeah."

"Now I have to start all over again. Knock - knock."

*sigh*

"Who's there?"

"Banana."

"Hey - let's play hide and seek," I interrupt this JOKE! "You go hide."

She runs off happily and searches for the best hiding place ever. I can hear her LOUDNESS still ... even over the swish - swish - swish of my Kenmore washer and the drum - drum - drum of my Kenmore dryer.

*Laundry lady quietly tip-toes over and closes the door to the tiny laundry room and pretends to count, but really ... REALLY ... she escapes back to the islands, where she is lying in a hammack beneath the tallest and shadiest palm trees enjoying the soothing sounds of the ocean waves as they lap playfully against the beach . She opens her eyes only briefly to see her handsome cabana boy walking toward her in his blue and white floral swim trunks, bare, beach-bronzed chest and and sun-bleached hair and ... in his hand is a PINA COLADA with a pink umbrella stickin' out of the top of the frost covered glass and on his gorgeous face is a smile that says, "I am here to serve you - can I get you anything else."*

On the upside ... Yes - yes you can.

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Aline is on trend with her maxi length floral print skirt. Accessorized with her braided belt and I'm starting to feel a bit of a bohemian vibe balanced out by a classic solid top. I'm also tweeting consistently now and you can follow me @WhatShaunaThinks

I'm not the type to pull strings or call in favors unless I absolutely have too.

Okay ... It's not like I'm this suburban-mafia-mom that has tons of useful connections, meets covertly in dark alleys to make deals with shifty looking hoodlums, keeps a mental tally of favors owed to me or have a list of people that find me favorable by which I could pull some strings with.

I have no connections.

I know no hoodlums (except Little Billy and he's harmless, he's my son and he's only 12).

My mind is far to cluttered and feeble to keep track of what the actual day of the week is, let alone if I've ever accumulated favors owed to me.

And ... most people do not find me favorable.

But ...

I am wise in the ways of the world! I've been around long enough to know the games, watched carefully to try and understand how to play some of these games and, from time to time, have enlisted this aforementioned, accumulated knowledge to PLAY THE DAMN GAME!

I am on the board of the PTA for my twins' high school.

On Monday morning - the first day of school, mind you - I crawled out of my comfortable bed and quiet, kid-free house - the bed with the cozy down comforter and the house that was noiseless - to help at the high school, alphabetizing their AGR (an acronym that I have no clue what it stands for - something to do with registration - something to do with the first day of school) cards

Before I left my house, I began to receive numerous text messages from my Daughter Courtney - HER AND CHLOE'S SCHEDULES ARE SCREWED UP - HELP MOM!!!

I tried to appease my obviously highly-stressed-frantic-freaking-out-of-her-mind daughter by replying casually to her text messages with, "Don't worry about it, Hon - it'll all work out," sort of responses.

That didn't fly.

She continued to text message after message, interrupting me from getting ready to go - she NEEDED me to step in and help figure out this screw-up for her ---- PLEASE MOM! PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE!!

I stopped my primping, walked out of my bathroom and called the counselor's office. I was pretty quickly told they will not be addressing scheduling issues until after Labor Day, the girls will just have to stay in the classes assigned until then. Mind you - these girls spent 5 hours, two weeks ago, up at the school on Prep Days, working out their Senior year schedule and now the school has made an error by changing the schedule. The error is the school's error - not my girls'. This I conclude only too quickly.

I sigh.

I change my outfit (I was wearing something conservative - I change into something less conservative. There is a reason for this well-thought-out wardrobe change. I won't tell you what I changed into because I wouldn't want you to think badly of me. Okay - I'll tell you. The new outfit consisted of a shorter shirt and a tighter, lower cut blouse).

I grab my purse.

I grab my coffee.

I leave my nice quite house and drudge up to the school.

I go by the counselor's office and am told pretty much the same thing - "So sorry your daughter is upset but there's nothing we can do today." So, I ask to speak to the head counselor (I'm going to go up the ladder now) and am told it wouldn't be possible until late afternoon to meet with her - she's far too busy helping register new students. In the meantime, my daughter's are attending classes that will not be their set classes and Courtney is BEYOND hysterical this is all screwed up - she is still texting me constantly. I am informed by the counseling department that nothing can be done for two weeks.

I texted Courtney and told her to meet me near the counselor's office.

"Did they say for me to meet you?" Courtney texted me - I can sense her fear.

"I SAID FOR YOU TO MEET ME." I'm the tax payer and the mom here - what I say goes.

After her first period class ends - Courtney - visually distressed - meets me in the breezeway near the counselor's office.

"Courtney. Now, you have to tell me if this is SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU WANT ME TO MAKE A STINK TO GET THIS FIXED. Because if it is not that big a deal and you can wait until after Labor Day, you have to tell me now." I have no clue from one minute to the next what is REALLY important and what isn't when it comes to teenagers. What I think should be important - isn't. And, what I think is piddly-isn't-worth-the-worry-or-stress-or-making-your-mom-a-nut-case-until-the-issue-is-resolved sort of issue - they think is important. But ... as I am talking to her - trying to decipher the true worry about this scheduling-screw-up issue, I see the trauma and stress all over her face.

Tears began to roll down her cheeks and she is not a crier - she is my tough child.

She NEEDS this issue resolved and I, as her advocate, agree. She is a student and going to school is her one and only job and she is highly successful. It does not seem reasonable to me that she should be forced to remain in the "wrong" classes for two weeks - she needs to be put back in her "right" classes so she can start this school year stress-free and happy. (Happy is really all I'm aiming at here).

"Okay - it's a big deal," I say. "Let's go," and I begin to go toward the counselor's office - set on sitting in there until they do something to fix my daughter's schedule (all the while my anger is riling up and honestly, I intended to "dare" them to make me wait longer than I deemed reasonable. I wasn't sure how long that would be - it would all depend on how long they made me wait). But ... Courtney doesn't want to make a stink in the counselor's office - she had already been in there earlier and they chased her out, telling her they were too busy today to address her scheduling problem. *More tears*

I agree. I got nowhere with them either and was, while I didn't let on to my daughter, a little fearful myself to return to the lion's den. I say, "Okay. But, then we're going to have to go to the Principal." I'm pretty sure this will scare her to death and she will reject this idea.

She is good with this plan.

She knows I know the Principal and that the Principal of this school of 3000 students knows me well and knows her well.

"Where is he - let's find him," she says, her spirits a little higher now. Me - my heart is beating so fast it might just jump from my chest, land on the ground and trip me in the hallway.

We head off to look for the Principal.

"What?" she asked, her eyes shifting nervously.

"Tears. Turn on the tears," I instruct, perfectly aware that this is one of the few times my daughter has witnessed me attempting to manipulate a man. Watch closely Dear, you will see how it is done.

We explained Courtney and Chloe's situation to the Principal. Courtney teared up (easily, because she was truly upset). He immediately took care of the situation.

Not ten minutes - TEN MINUTES - later, Courtney and Chloe's schedule was back the way it should be, Courtney gave her mom a big hug and bounced off to class - not a care in the world.

YES - I used everything (while not all that impressive or threatening or at all useful in everyday situations) in my arsenal to help my daughter. And, I didn't even have to scream and yell to get it done.

Courtney, quite impressed with her mother's talents, came home in the afternoon, all smiles. I questioned her about her schedule and she informed me that it was fine - everything was correct - "THANKS MOM, for your help".

Then ...

She went on to tell me that she repeated this story to several people at her school, one a teacher I know well, but in her story she impressed that she'd gotten the schedule changed back ... by crying.

"Did you tell them that I was the one who told you to turn on the tears?" I asked, astonished that she was taking credit for my sneaky plan.

"No," she admitted easily, and then shuffled on out of the room.

For the record - I was the administrator of this well-thought-out covert operation. But, I'm okay with my daughter taking the credit. I know only too well that she's too young to realize that that was part of my plan too - tee hee. (Okay, not really, but it will come in handy if I ever have to deny I played a part of this manipulation). And, for the record - I could have kept on my original outfit. I'm pretty darn sure it didn't have a thing to do with ultimately getting this job done *hangs head pitifully*

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