What with a son in a play and a daughter in a dance recital AND a play (dance recital now successfully over, one down, two to go…) plus a revision deadline at the end of the month, .. has been a very neglectful blogger. How could I have left you all hanging as to the outcome of Daughter’s fateful venture into a Connecticut Writing Project fiction workshop taught by her freakish, embarrassing MOM? Especially after said Mom had spent the day at her middle school the week before doing workshops for the 8th graders and when daughter had entered Media Center to wave hello, Freak Mom had the nerve to blow her a kiss ? (Dum, dum, dum….) Well, the car ride up to Fairfield University was extremely entertaining. What with budget cuts, no bus transportation was provided for students (nor any teachers to accompany them, because we were told there wasn’t funding, even in tony Greenwich, CT, to pay for a substitute to cover) and since I was going anyway and am in possession of a Mom Mobile, I ended up with a carpool of six (count ‘em) 7th grade girls. Oh, the singing! Oh the texting! Oh the dialogue! Of course, if I happened to like a song, and made the slighted sign of enjoyment such as head bobbing or, heaven forbid, singing, I was rewarded with a stern glance and a hissed warning: “Mother!” Upon arriving at the CWP, Daughter was extremely mortified to learn that her name tag had her last name on it. Horrors! What if the other kids put two and two together? Fortunately she wasn’t in my workshop until the afternoon, so I had a practice run. Because strangely enough, as freaked out as she was about having me as her teacher, I was kind of nervous about having her as much student. I wanted her to be proud of me. One of her good friends was in the morning workshop and was kind enough to give me a good review. At lunch, I notice Daughter eating outside in the sun with a group of her friends and I casually strolled by. “Hello Mrs. Littman, who is not related to A!” one of her friends joked, earning themselves a dagger glance from Daughter. “GOODBYE Mrs. Littman!” said Daughter. I scurried away back to the land of older people, who happened to include keynote speaker Yona McDonagh Afterwards, my daughter told me one of the other kids who didn’t realize we were related asked her: “Why were you being so mean to the fiction teacher?” Yeah?! Why indeed?!! ☺ When the students came in for the afternoon workshop, someone from Daughter’s school saw my name on Powerpoint and called out, “Wow, she has the same last name as A – are they related?” I followed my instructions and denied all knowledge. “I’m not sure…are they?” Noticed Daughter smirking out of the corner of my eye. Workshop went well, and afterwards, my daughter even admitted she enjoyed it. I asked her how I could improve it: “don’t talk so much”….hmmm I wonder if this is a daughter specific comment or a general comment – like is it just that she’s sick of the sound of my voice or do I really talk too much? (See if you can spot Daughter. Hint: she’s the one giving the teacher attitude ☺) So another hurdle passed successfully, and both Mother and Daughter survived intact!