Over the rainbow? Try over the moon. Cloud 9, for sure.

“I really didn’t want this week to end,” Annabelle said dreamily, as we stood in line this afternoon to order her a peach smoothie at the coffee shop next to the dance studio. Who can blame her? She was Dorothy in the combo Wiz/Wicked/Wizard of Oz production her ballet teacher whipped up to keep a handful of girls occupied for the past five days.

I wish it would last all summer, too. Next week, things might get ugly. Annabelle’s signed up for basketball camp. She doesn’t want to go.

“I just don’t feel comfortable!” she keeps saying. True, it’s not her milieu, though the second grade girls do like to play a bit of basketball in school. Annabelle’s by far the shortest in her class; I’m not sure she’s ever made a basket. (I have — once in my life.)

My mother asked, “Why are you setting her up for defeat?” Even Ray, Mr. Adventure, who just this evening took Annabelle for a bike ride on the mean streets of Tempe, isn’t crazy about the idea.

I told Annabelle she has to go for the first day. After that, we’ll reevaluate.

Then there’s Sophie. Poor Sophie. She’s been jonesing for her own chance to get on stage all summer. Finally, one of our favorite sitters, Courtney, convinced me to try signing her up for the theater camp Annabelle did. We found a camp next week, for 5 to 7 year olds, cheerily entitled, “The Best Week Ever.”

I got online and filled out the form, put in my debit card information, and hit “submit,” considering the caveat that said, “absolutely no refunds.” I wonder if it works both ways. There’s no question on the form about whether your child is developmentally disabled. These folks just assume the kids will all be typical.

Before I summoned the courage to call the camp, I called my dear friend Deborah.

“i think i just did something i shouldn’t have done,” I said in a tiny voice. She talked me off the ledge, insisting she didn’t think it would be a problem, and she was right — so far, anyway. I called a woman I barely know (like really barely — we’ve emailed once or twice and might be Facebook friends, I can’t recall) who works for the program and told her about Sophie, adding quickly that I’d already paid and I would be sending Sophie with an aide.

She seemed cool with it. So we’ll see. We’re definitely all getting kicked out of our comfort zone next week — all except Sophie, I’m betting. She’s clearly destined for the stage. I expect next Friday I’ll be writing say she stole the show.

That, or I’ll be writing much sooner to say we’re back to looking for something for her to do.

No, I didn’t figure out how to put funky wallpaper up, like my friend Rene has on her blog, but I did manage to post some links in my (or is it on my)  “Blogroll”.

This freaking blog thing.

Tonight my dear friend Terry told me I need to “ping more platforms”. I asked my dear friend Kari what on earth that meant (I couldn’t figure out how to pull up the link to her blog, but if you google “kindahotmom” and “Karina Bland” you’ll find it) and she said, “Oh, that’s when you use catch phrases like ‘stay at home mom’ and people see it and link to your site.”

Oh. That makes no sense to me, but ok, I’ll say it:

Stay at home mom. Stay at home mom. Stay at home mom.

(The Dorothy approach; heels are clicking.)

I think if I was a stay at home mom I’d hate the term stay at home mom. I know i hate the term working mom. (Stay at home moms don’t work?) But my least favorite is full time mom. Who isn’t?

Ah, a discussion for another late night (one when I’m not battling a cold).