Wow, I was definitely suprised by the feedback that I got from the last story (Hell Hath No Fury), thanks again to those who reviewed and emailed me btw, that I decided to post something else today. Two in one day, for a slacker like me, that's monumental lol :)

Also I'm noticing a bit of a pattern with my writing. Most of my work will probably be A/U and it will feature Shelby bc I feel she (Shelby/Idina) was totally gypped of what could've been a pretty good storyline. But they crashed and burned with it, so consider my musings her saving grace if you will lol (If you wish to vent or discuss the issue further, my inbox is always open :D ) Ok, so this one came to me on a whim while I was on the bus this afternoon, and it's probably going to seem a little OOC, but I had fun with it and I think that's what's most important.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well except for the pen I wrote it with and this time even the paper was mine. The title I got from my bestie, also thanks ever so much for editing it too Kam ;)


"Practice was satisfactory at best. While the dedication of my fellow teammates has greatly improved and their efforts are certainly commendable, we still have a lot of work ahead of us if we wish to win Nationals."

If there is one thing my darling daughter isn't lacking, it's optimism. We have yet to even compete in Regionals and here she is determinedly focused on Nationals. Rather than stick my foot in my mouth and deter her by commenting on it, I proceed in another, more assuring direction. "Do you want my opinion, Rach?"

"Absolutely!" I chuckle at her childlike exuberance. Even though we've only just established our relationship, she places a high value on my input whenever it's offered.

"Give them time. Pretty soon they're going to realize that they're going to have to put in some real work if they want to win," I explain, knowing from experience. " As for you, I think you'll be sensational as always. You have what it takes, Hon. The passion, the talent, the drive…"

"All thanks to you I'm sure. Genetics truly are remarkable," she adds, our laughter echoing through our respective cell phones. "Anyway, Mom, I was thinking. Perhaps the weekend after Regionals, we could hangout. Maybe do lunch or something. I know this new bistro that just opened up on Main Street and Daddy said it's gotten some outstanding reviews."

I feel the smile I'm sure I've been wearing since we started this conversation wane at the mention of the proposed weekend outing and I hate myself for what I'm about to do, having done it countless times already. "I can't. I have an inservice day at Carmel that weekend. The entire faculty is required to attend. Something about a budget review for the next school year, I think. I'm really sorry, Honey."

"Oh…well, that's okay. Maybe next time." Like the true actress she is, my daughter bounces back brightly, probably even putting on a show face despite the fact I can't see it through the phone. But I know better. After years of vocal training, I can hear the pain and disappointment Rachel thinks she's successfully hidden from me and that alone causes an added weight to my already guilt-ridden conscience. "Well, I promised Finn I'd meet up with him to go to the mall. Can I call you later?"

"Of course. I love you Rachel." Praying that she'll respond in kind, I clutch the phone a little tighter and a little closer to my ear. I hate the desperation in my voice, but I want—no—need my daughter to know that I do care about her—us—despite the fact my past actions dictate otherwise. I admit I wasn't prepared for our initial meeting ( I could've done without the audience, but I suppose beggars can't be choosers) and after my little chat with her own Glee coach, I realized that if I wanted to get to know my baby, I'd have to put forth some true effort and dispose of my own selfishness and insecurities. After all I wasn't the only person confused and hurting over this reunion. There was essentially a teenage version of myself whose emotions were also at stake.

"Yeah, me too. Bye Shelby."

I involuntarily wince at the way she says my name. Thanks in part to Will Schuester, I've only recently come to realize just how fragile Rachel truly is. In spite of her attempts to prove otherwise. For instance, when all is well in our budding relationship, she has taken to calling me Mom. And while I would never admit it in any public forum, I find my heart doing backflips as well as an unexplainable emission of a salty substance leaking out of my tearducts. This is all an unconscious reaction, of course. After all, I have no control over it. Whatsoever. Seriously!

Oh, who am I kidding? My baby calling me Mom has me carrying on like an overemotional fool.

But that's beside the point!

Conversely, just as she has taken to calling me Mom, on occasion, occasions that have unfortunately been occuring more regularly as of late, my little girl has reverted to calling me Shelby. Or worse, Ms. Corcoran. And as heartbreaking as it is to hear the slight edge in her voice in times such as these, I can't blame her because I know I'm the sole reason behind her own heartache.

As it stands, for the past few weeks I have successfully managed to blow off every single attempt Rachel has made for us to meet up. Now while all of my reasons have been legitimate excuses ranging from work to VA responsibilities, they're still, nonetheless, excuses and I can't help but feel like my priorities are severly skewed if my own daughter falls at the bottom of the list time and time again. Initially I had thought she would understand due to her own extracurricular commitments and glee club. But lately, I've come to believe my daughter thinks of my "obligations" as reasons to continue a physical avoidance and continue with our impersonal relationship of text messages, phonecalls and the occasional email. If she only knew how far that was from the truth. As much as I wish I could just drop everything just to spend an afternoon lounging and talking with her, I am genuinely busy. And frankly, it sucks.

At the sound of my team re-entering the Carmel High auditorium, I replace my phone in my purse and shake my head in hopes of pushing aside thoughts of Rachel, if only for the remaining hour or so of practice. Because as much as I may love her, I do have a job to do and it consists of making sure Vocal Adrenaline attains their fourth consecutive win at Regionals. "Ok guys, from the top. And I swear to God if I hear any of you complain about the routine again, landing multiple backflips while singing will be the least of your worries. Are we clear, Mr. Richardson?"

-PA-

One week after Regionals, that Thursday to be precise, I enter the seemingly deserted halls of McKinley High. This time not as a rival glee coach. No, today I am simply a concerned parent because if there's any merit to the expressive breakdown Rachel had on my couch a few nights ago, her glee club is over. Which, to my baby girl, is equivalent to her life being over. And I won't stand for it. This is why I've scheduled a meeting to speak with the principal to discuss a possible reconsideration of his decision. Normally, I find I'm rather steadfast if not impervious to certain people, but even I can admit that Figgins makes me a little uneasy. I shudder as I think about our last encounter. Ah, the sacrifices one must make for one's child.

As my heels tap nervously against the linoleum flooring, I can't help but realize that I may be overstepping my boundaries as Rachel's "newest" parent. Yet I can't help but feel it's the least I can do for her. I waited only a moment before my name was called by his secretary. However as I stood to make my way into the office of Principal Figgins, I am unceremoniously "bumped" out of the way by a woman clad in a navy Adidas tracksuit who then proceeded to enter the office before me.

While I may not have been privy to the exact words of their impromptu meeting, considering the room is suprisingly and remarkably soundproof, with the way they're gesticulating I can't help but wonder if my trip here may have been in vain. It took me a moment to recognize the woman as Sue Sylvester, who happened to be one of the guest judges at the recent competition and who according to Rachel is also hell-bent on eradicating McKinley of the glee club. I witness Figgins and Sue get into each other's faces and into what I can only speculate is a very heated yelling match. Then just as quickly as it began, it was over. Sue stepped back and was out the door, leaving a very bewildered Principal Figgins in her wake.

"He's all yours Broadway," she calls over her shoulder before rounding the corner, probably to terrorize a student or another member of the faculty. Undeterred from my initial mission, I take a deep breath and enter the office closing the door behind me.

Twenty minutes later, I was sitting behind the wheel of my Range Rover puzzled, utterly baffled and in desperate need of a scalding, hot shower.

-PA-

The weekend after my meeting with Figgins, I'm at home simultaneously outlining VA's setlist for Nationals, writing up my final lesson plans of the year and grading my juniors' sorry excuses for final papers when the doorbell rings. Thankful for any kind of interruption, I drop Susan Nichols' comparitive essay that has pitted High School Musical against Les Miserables and head for the front door. I'm further surprised to find my daughter on the other side with her appearance being a far cry from the mopey teenager that graced my couch a few days ago.

"Hey Swee—" My greeting is interrupted as I find my daughter has effectively launched herself at me and is squeezing me like there is no tomorrow. One would never expect it from Rachel's petite form, but my girl's got quite a grip. And while I can appreciate that the fathers Berry have indeed taken care of my daughter, I do need to breathe. "Umm, Rach? Honey? Air." I gasp desperately.

Rachel promptly releases her death grip on my torso and looks so apologetic that I actually begin to feel bad about my lungs' incessant need for oxygen. "Sorry Mom," she murmurs with a bashful look. "I guess I was just a little excited."

"Really? What about?" I inquire, while absently rubbing my sides as I lead her into the living room and settle onto the couch for what I'm sure will turn into a very extensive monologue.

"Glee club got reinstated!" she announces as she plops down beside me, careful to avoid the pile of papers and folders around her.

"That's great Rach," I add sincerely, as I begin to gather the few errant sheets of paper that are scattered on the coffee table before us, as well as those on the floor.

Honestly, since the meeting with Figgins I had been hesitant to approach Rachel on the topic of glee club. In fact, I hadn't even told her that I had gone down to school in her defense, for fear that there would be no reinstatement and I would have gotten her hopes up for nothing. "So, what changed Principal Figgins' mind?"

Rachel scoffs. "As if you don't already know," she tells me. My actions officially cease as I quirk an eyebrow and return my gaze to my daughter. Apparently she's noticed my quizzical and perplexed expression because next thing I know she's explaining to me how a member of her club, Puck I believe was his name, saw me leaving Figgins' office on Thursday. And what with my own dedication to Carmel's own performing arts program and our shared love of all things show choir, my daughter has deduced that it's beyond obvious that I had gone to McKinley to talk some sense into her inconsiderate principal. And thanks to me, New Directions was saved. Making me not only her glee club's unofficial hero, but my daughter's absolute favorite person ever! Once again I found myself on the receiving end of one of Rachel's bone crushing hugs. When she pulls back, I see that she too is afflicted with the same ocular infection as I, as I notice a few droplets of something escape her big, brown eyes. "So, I guess I'm here to say 'thank you' Mom," she tells me, with a watery smile. "You didn't have to do it, but I'm really glad you did."

Blinking back a few wayward droplets of my own, I tuck a strand of hair that has come loose from her ponytail behind her ear. While I'm sure it wasn't my doing that got the glee club restored, I'm rather enjoying this moment I'm having with my daughter and am quite content with her thinking it was all my doing. So, like any person caught in my predicament...I went with it. "Anytime, babygirl," I tell her before pulling her to my side and settling into the couch. We remain like this for quite a while, lounging and simply enjoying the sounds that the mid-morning Saturday has to offer, before Rachel suddenly sits up with a start.

"Oh, my gosh! Mom, I'm so sorry!"

I lean forward and try to recapture Rachel's gaze. This is the third time this week I've found myself completely confused, and I have to say, I don't like it. If this is how normal parents go about their daily lives, I'm not too sure I want any part of it. "Rachel, what are you sorry for?" I grab her hands, my thumbs rubbing calming circles over her knuckles in hopes she'll stop her rambling and talk to me. She looks at me with the cutest puppy pout and I feel a sudden urge to take her back into my arms and hold her again. It's strong, but I fight it. "Talk to me, Honey."

"Your meeting! In my excitement to tell you about Principal Figgins' decision, I came by without calling or any regard as to you having to prepare and get ready…"

As I listen to Rachel go on about how she was raised better than this, I can't help but notice that I too had forgotten about the meeting. Admittedly, before Rachel's arrival I was about to go and get ready, but as soon as she appeared on my doorstep she took precedence over everything else. Work and VA included. I can't help but smile as I realize that maybe I'm getting the hang of this parenting thing after all. "Rachel?"

"…I really should've called first, I mean…"

"Rachel?"

"…this is so unlike me! I'm so, so sorry Mom. I can assure you that it won't—"

"Rachel!" I really don't like yelling, especially at my own child, but knowing Rachel, she would probably go on for days if I didn't interject. I cup her cheek gently, and smile down at her, hopefully getting through that I didn't mean to startle her. "How about we hit up that bistro you were talking about last week?"

I watch as she furrows her brow and blinks a few times in confusion. "But what about your meeting? You said it was mandatory. Won't they, like, fire you if you don't attend?"

I shrug it off and smirk at her. "Fire me?" I can't help chuckling at the thought. I'm Shelby Corcoran dammit. Director and Coach of Vocal Adrenaline. Four time winner of the Ohio State Regional Show Choir competition. Fire me? Ha! "I'd like to see them try. So what do you say? Lunch and a movie?"

"And shopping?" my daughter's request hangs in the air and is followed up with a hopeful smile. She knows she's pushing it and I'm about to decline on that part of the deal when that confounded puppy pout reappears.

I roll my eyes and fall back into the couch. "And shopping," I relent with a sigh. I wonder if there's an immunization shot for that thing. Because I certainly cannot keep conceding to her every whim every time it shows up. I watch as Rachel does a little victory dance and laugh when she breaks out the cabbage patch. I leave her to inspect my playbill collection as I go up to change out of my morning sweats. When I return, this time in a Tshirt and jeans that suprisingly match Rachel's current attire, I gather my purse and keys and lead the way out to my car. On the way to the bistro, Rachel regales me with tales from her youth as well as moments with her glee club. As I listen to her animated chatter, I can't help but feel that if this is what it's going to be like having a teenage daughter, I could definitely get used to it.


Yea, so how many people noticed "the look" that Shelby passed to Will and Sue in 1x21 after Figgins said "Ms Corcoran. You are as wise and magnanimous, as you are beautiful." lol I just had to reference it. :D Anyways...

Good? Bad? Rotten Tomatoes? or just ehh? Review and let me know :)

Till next time...