Sign My Scrapbook!

Back to the Never Ending Story of the Ballet Recital, which you're probably sick of and looking for the X box right now. But bear with me for just a little while longer.


Yeah, they helped. I rapidly morphed--honestly, they should make a TRANSFORMER DOLL starring me--from Mature, Mellow, Pain-Stricken But Basically Stop-And-Smell-The-Roses Lorrie to Young Lorrie. Young Lorrie? Bore a striking and terrifying resemblance to Young Frankenstein.


In my younger days, I was insanely competitive. I can't even begin to tell you how insanely driven and competitive I was. Let me see:


1. High school-skipped 1 year, graduated 11th in class of 450.
2. College-skipped 1 year, graduated 11th in class of 4,500. Graduated Magna Cum Laude.
3. Law school-skipped one semester, discovered something even more interesting than books--men--yeah YOU--and graduated Thank You Lawdy (And thank you old boyfriend for helping me with the Uniform Commercial Code).


I was 23 when I was sworn into the bar. I was single minded to the point of, seriously, madness. That was a long, long time ago.


I am now happily self-benched and on the Mommy Track to Oblivion And Poverty.


But Young Lorrie comes bursting out at inopportune times, like at a ballet cast party hopped up on painkillers.


Happily Stoned Young Lorrie wrote a check for $60.00 for 2 DVDs of the performance and 2 scrapbooks. The kids were supposed to get their friends to sign the scrapbooks. I placed the scrapbooks into their little hands and instructed them that they were supposed to get their friends to sign them.


Young Lorrie would have grabbed the scrapbooks and began soliciting signatures immediately (It was my goal to have more signatures in my yearbook than anybody else, a goal that makes sense only to a teenager, I guess).


The kids just stood there.


"Look! There's Lindsay! There's Evelyn! There's Darienne! KIDS ARE ALREADY LEAVING THE PARTY FOR GOD'S SAKE I DIDN'T JUST PAY THIRTY DOLLARS FOR SOME PIECES OF PAPER BETWEEN SCROUNGY CARDBOARD FOR NOTHING! GET OVER THERE AND GET THE KIDS TO SIGN THE SCRAPBOOK NOW!"


Lord, my kids are going to write the sequel to Mommie Dearest.


Seriously, I have GOT to stand down. I had parents who didn't fight my battles because they were gentle, kindly, and courteous souls, so my sister and I became ball busting beyotches. I have to strike a happy medium here. Be ready to go into battle for a true problem, but otherwise back off and let them handle life on their own.


I know this.


It's just that Young Lorrie doesn't.


I'm going to have to get in touch with my inner child and feed her some Xanax.