From Maternity to Madness

Blog Move!

2009-12-04T07:54:00.000-08:00

I have finally transferred this blog over to WordPress. It's still under construction, but please go visit me now over here: Maternity to Madness

Come on in. Stay awhile.

2009-11-10T22:52:00.000-08:00

This is gonna sound weird, but I really love growing up on Facebook. I love watching my friends grow up (not old!) with me. I love seeing their smiling faces on Facebook every day (ok, sometimes every couple of hours. what?) and knowing they are happy. Or not. Either way, I have the gift of knowing and being there, for the good and the bad. And honestly, without FB, it would be a heck of a lot harder to keep up with everyone. It's like a central memory bank/webcam/window into the various parts of my life - past, present, future.

Also: my friends? The best looking group on earth. They are all so beautiful, and they get better looking all the time. The laugh lines, the sparkling eyes, the goofy smiles. The little girl I grew up with now thriving in her medical residency. The boys I rode BMX bikes with down to the 3-D Mart for candy and comics, now grown men with families. My college buddies who are spread out all over the world living out their dreams. It's all right there in front of me, beside me, whether they are down the street or on the other side of the world.

And it makes me so, so, so very happy to see all of them, anytime.

You see, I get quite attached to people. Sometimes too much. If you touched my life for the better in some way, even for 10 minutes, I will always remember you and be there for you. That's kinda how my silly heart works, and Facebook kinda feeds that silly heart til it's stuffed happy with good people updates, links, photos, crazy videos.

What an AMAZING bunch of human beings they are, my Facebook friends. Personally, I only friend folks that I have had some sort of personal contact with, either in person or online, or via mutual good friends. They're battling cancer, MS, severe food allergies, Celiac disease, bipolar disorder, alcoholism, drug addiction, OCD handwashing issues. They're single, divorced, married, gay, straight, bisexual, dazed & confused. They hate kids, have 1-6 kids, are dealing with recent miscarriage, IVF treatments, going through the adoption process. They are agnostic, Jewish, Protestant, Catholic, Mormon, atheist, Muslim, bow to the church of Whiffies (not in Portland? look it up).

You get the point. The diversity in their updates makes me smile. That they choose to share something -- anything -- with me in this cozy little nook of the web, is truly an honor.

And I'll be honest: I would not remember everyone's birthdays if it were not for Facebook. Not all 468 of you. And be honest: don't you love it when you get those birthday messages? Of course you do!

Because if you strip away all the potential drama and silly games associated with Facebook, what it comes down to is that even if you last spoke with so-and-so 20 years ago, you've decided to let them into a little part of your life for one reason or another...and they have allowed you into theirs. And that means something.

I love Facebook because of them. I can't tell all of them in person or even over the phone everyday, but in some small limited-character, funny, complaining, happy, tired way, I can reach out to these very important people and let them in.

For people who are outwardly-social-but-really-closet-loners like me, it means a lot. It means a lot.

Have wings, will fly

2009-11-02T23:02:00.000-08:00

I speak often of the gifts my children give me--the life lessons, the hard lessons I need to learn as a parent and to grow as a person. It has been two and a half months since I wrote this post about my 2.5 year old daughter's speech delays, and I have slowly come to understand her lesson to me in this part of our relationship: I need to let her do things on her own time...and I need to learn to let go.

In just under 3 months, my daughter went from speaking just a few words to now speaking full short sentences and bringing in almost a dozen new words and phrases a day. Like so many mamas who graciously offered me their support and words of experience having gone through something similar, I just needed to be patient. In time -- her own time -- she found her words. And so many of them! Oh, what a GLORIOUS sound to hear my daughter speaking! Every new word she says, every new phrase, is said with such confidence and such bravado! Along with both of my kids' laughter, hearing her say a new word or phrase is the BEST sound in the whole entire world!

And honestly? She did it on her own. Sure, my husband and I worked with her on her words, and her teachers did too. I'm sure being in school helped. But truly, I feel she has always had the words, known the meanings, understood everything clearly. She is the one who pieced it all together and made the words come to life...on her own time.

I'm so proud of my little girl. She wore this fairy/Tinkerbell costume for Halloween and after some hesitation (loud barking dogs and older kids in scary costume were cause for pause early on our trick-or-treating adventure), she proudly raced up the steps from door to door with her big brother and cousins, shouted "trick or treat!" replied "thank you!" and left with a smile, singing "Happy Halloween!" and then in-between a couple of houses surveying her bounty she declared "Look mom! Chocolate! Candy!" Later that night at home, we asked my son if he had fun, and she chimed in "Me too! I had fun too!" Hard to believe that just two and a half months ago, she was only speaking a handful of words, and we were worrying about speech therapy and hearing tests.

Watching her on Halloween, with those big wings on her back and her unbridled excitement, I really almost thought that she could fly. She had THAT much fun, and was full of that much confidence. As long as I let her use those wings, I know she can and she will.

The tattoo? It was for me, not you

2009-10-16T13:04:00.000-07:00

Oh I just love disappointing people. I think I'm becoming quite good at it as I age. The thing is, I know who I am, and what I am not. Some people just see something different based on their own expectations, experiences and points of reference.

We all go through life with so many public personas but really they are all one in the same. When I became a reporter, one of my relatives said she was shocked because she always imagined I would become an English teacher. She always saw me as reserved and bookish (read: nerdy). I've met many other comments along the way in my life of not meeting others' expectations based on their perceptions of who I am, my likes, dislikes, values, priorities. These comments always take me by surprise, because I honestly try never to do anything I'm not comfortable with, or say anything I don't mean to say.

The societal mirror has never been held up to my face so much in recent years as it has in the last 24 hours. You see, I've wanted a tattoo since I was 15. I didn't want to get one until I was sure of the design, placement, and quite frankly, I was also afraid that once I started, I wouldn't stop. I tend to have that kind of personality. I turned 35 this year and decided it was time. So I got my first tattoo yesterday. I consider it a gift to myself, so Happy Bosses Day to me!

Now here's the thing I love: the diverse reactions from friends, family, colleagues. My inbox is flooded with such a range of reactions, I almost want to publish them in a book. Some people love it and are excited that I finally got what I wanted. Some people are shocked at the size, obviously assuming I would get something smaller. Some people are surprised (and a couple of folks absolutely, honestly, outspokenly horrified) that I got one at all, much less one of a noticeable size. And a few others (the few who know me really well) are surprised I am not yet sleeved at this point in my life.

I often wonder why people have such a hard time when others don't fit into their box of expectations. They act as though I have failed them somehow. Personally, I am not here to live up to anyone else's expectations but my own. Are you?

Someone asked me what I would tell my kids about the tattoo -- a bluebird with a banner that says "love," and a "c" and an "e" which are my kids' first initials. I've already told my son: it reminds me everyday of living a life of hope, optimism, happiness, which the bluebird symbolizes. I've told him it reminds me of who I am, that I am here to love, that I believe love can change the world, and that they --my kids-- are my greatest loves. I've told him that it reminds me that I am free --that we are all free-- to be exactly who we are, even though it may not always be who others want us to be; even though we may not fit into a convenient, neat little personality type box that they can easily understand.

This tattoo was for me, and no one else. My son loves it. I love it. It's part of who I am, have always been, and always will be.

PS: I realize that people may not vote for a presidential candidate with a big ol' bird tattoo. I'm ok with that because, you know, I wasn't planning on running. But thanks for pointing it out to me (you know who you are).

Pictures of You

2009-09-24T09:51:00.000-07:00

"Screamed at the make-believe,
screamed at the sky
and you finally found
all the courage to let it all go"

Pictures of You by The Cure was her favorite song. At least, it was the last time we spoke. When I was in high school, that song used to make me all angsty about boys and sometimes it still does but for the most part, it now makes me think of her. It was playing on the radio when I got into the car this morning after dropping my kids off at school and BOOM. Tears.

I miss her.

My friend that was taken away from us way too young, way too fast. I didn't even have the chance to tell her how much she meant to me all those years. I honestly don't think she ever knew what a bright star she was. How even though we lived in different cities and only talked on the phone and wrote letters every few months or so, and only saw each other maybe once a year at most, she meant a lot to me. I looked up to her, admired her, wished so often I was born with her amazingly wonderful qualities.

Then she was gone.

And all I have are my memories and pictures and this song. And sometimes, as soon as I hear it, it just hits me. Hard.

I used to think that I never had the chance to tell her what she meant to me, but that's a crock of sh*t now, isn't it? I had plenty of chances. Every day is a chance to tell someone how much they mean to you.

So now I try. I try to let people know how much the mean to me. I usually end up looking like an idiot, but I'm ok with that. I don't care if they laugh at my feelings, at least they are known. Because I never want to let another person in my life go without knowing how I truly feel about them. Ever.

If you are reading this, just know that I appreciate you taking the time to read my words and process my sometimes completely random meaningless babble. It means a lot to me. And so do you.

Girlie Girl Glow

2009-09-17T21:50:00.000-07:00

My daughter is a girlie girl. She was born that way and I've not only come to accept it, but I am trying to follow her cues and let her do the things that make her so happy and just glow and revel in all the girlie girlness. Like putting barretts in her hair. She used to hate it but now the bigger and brighter the hair accessories, the better. Like indulging her love of shoes. Like letting her wear a girlie girl butterfly princess-like costume that I swore I would NEVER let my daughter wear. Ever.

Never say never.

My son had decided we should all be superheroes this Halloween, but after seeing the poor quality of superhero costumes in person (really, they were $30 worth of absolute crap), we checked out what else was available and in the end, came home with this costume:

Now, seeing her in this outfit, I know it suits her to a T. She is radiant, because she's so happy in it. Originally, I was eyeing a dragon costume for her, but when I took this costume off the rack to check out what it was, she instantly grabbed it from my hands, put it in her lap, felt all of the fabric and sparkles and looked up at me with the biggest, widest eyes and happiest smile.

And in that instant I knew: it was hers. No doubt about it, we weren't walking out of the store without it.

My son, instead, chose the dragon. It's also a bright green.

So my children will be glowing at Halloween. With the obnoxiousness that is this crazy bright eye-burning green (who needs reflectors or flashlights?). But also, with pure joy. I can't wait!

Still Waiting

2009-09-11T19:14:00.000-07:00

There are days when everything seems just as it should be, but at the same time, you know nothing is as it seems. Today is one of those days. Same time, same date, different year. And each year, I am overwhelmed with emotion, overcome with tears on its eve, and then again as it passes into a new day.

And it does, miraculously, always pass into a new day.

Eight years ago today, I had just gotten out of the shower, when my husband said in a calm voice "Honey, come in here." His voice never scares me, but in those seconds it did, because I didn't recognize it. Moving into the bedroom I saw him watching the tv. On the tv was an image of the Twin Towers. There was smoke. Not a second later, we watched the second plane hit. My heart stopped. I counted the seconds.

For the next several minutes the world stopped and time stood still.

Then I went to work. Crisis communications being part of my job.

I made phone calls. Some of them went through. Most hit a busy signal. I waited to hear from family members, friends, co-workers, students, colleagues, media contacts. I arranged for more televisions to come in. Whether with friends or strangers, that day we all watched and cried and hugged and wondered. Together.

More than anything, I waited and waited and waited to hear those busy signals turn to voices saying they were ok.

In the days that followed, as phone service was restored, most were.

But not all.

Too many lives lost in an instant. I cannot write about what it is like to lose a parent, spouse, or child in 9/11. I cannot fathom that deep a loss and am still constantly in awe of the strength of those who endured such a loss that day. I was not there to experience the chaos or witness what New Yorkers went through first-hand, nor able to assist as bravely and immediately as our firefighters, paramedics, police and other disaster relief workers.

I was not there, and yet, I was. We all were. In many ways, we still are.

On the anniversary of 9/11, it is difficult for me to conduct life as normal. Every other day of the year, fine. But this day, every year, I am struck with so much emotion that I am almost frozen. I remember.

I feel like I am still waiting for my phone to ring. I am still waiting to hear those voices who never had a chance to call back.

Kindergarten Becomes Him

2009-09-09T20:55:00.000-07:00

Well I'll be. My son loves Kindergarten. L-O-V-E-S it.

Exhibit A: his silly unstoppable smiles as we got ice cream to celebrate his first day last week:

The boy who cried and protested throughout most of his preschool days, and tried at least three times each week to rationalize why he should not go to preschool that day, now LOVES Kindergarten.

I could be having the crappiest day but it doesn't matter because my sweet, sensitive, kind, thoughtful, insightful son is HAPPY. Every day since he started last week, he's been this transformed little grown up. He doesn't even run to me at pick-up time, he wants to stay a little and finish up! He chatters away excitedly from the minute I pick him up to the moment he goes to sleep at night. About school! Kindergarten! My kid is at last challenged and excited about being able to do more, learn more, experience more, and it is so so so incredible to see him be this H-A-P-P-Y about school!

And that makes this mama happier than ever. And no 6-hours trying to fix a stupid ass computer that's been affected with super nasty spyware can take that truth away. What's that about the computer? Oh, that story is for another post. This is a post about my son's happiness, which is, truth be told, a million times more important to me than mine.

Downsizing to Offset the Duggars

2009-09-01T21:48:00.000-07:00

I find it ironic that in the midst of my manic downsizing obsession, the Duggars decide to have baby #19. Nineteen! Holyfuckinshit! That doesn't even deserve to be bleeped out because if you don't curse, surely you MUST submit to profanities now because it is the only logical response to such insane news. Now you know I try to give folks their own private space when it comes to parenting decisions, lifestyle decisions, whatever. I don't care what you eat, what you feed your kids, how you discipline, homeschool, private school, make the whole family dress up as farm animals at the dinner table every Tuesday night, whatever. I cut celebrity families a lot of slack. But this...this affects our entire overpopulated planet. They claim to have changed at least 90,000 diapers. Were any of those cloth? Oh wait! Do you think she'd buy my Fuzzi Bunz cloth diapers and inserts? Maybe I'll just send them to her. She could use them for kids #19-24, I bet. They're THAT great!

I digress.

"This never gets old," says proud overly-sexed papa Jim Bob Duggar. What? Yes! Yes it DOES get old, Jim Bob! And so do YOU! You are going to be grandparents for goodness' sake, and here comes baby number 19. Your grandchild will be older than your #19 baby.

Truth be told, I think they're insane. There. I said it. I hate saying it but that's how I feel. However...they seem like somewhat decent insane people. The kids seem a little robotic but kind. I think Michelle and I could be friends, in fact. That is, if she'd allow a loud opinionated Filipino into her home (has there been a non-Caucasian in their life?).

While the Duggars are preparing to add more to their overflowing plates, I am focused (some might say obsessed. po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe) with taking things off of my overflowing plate.

Starting with moving out of my office space downtown and moving back to my home office. Less commute, less overhead, more time to work.

We have two kids and we're calling it good. That means it's about freakin' time we unload all of our baby gear once and for all. Furniture, jogging strollers, double strollers, baby strollers, infant car seats, playmats, swings, toys toys toys. It all must go go go!

Sidenote: 75% of the babyproofing industry is a SCAM people. First time parents: you do not NEED half of that crap and believe me, when it comes time to sell your things to people who might not want the baby bumpers around the corners of tables and whatnot? It is a BEYOTCH to take off.

Weight. Or, more correctly stated, inches. I took the summer off from doing any sort of exercise whatsoever. I'm not a summer gal, and the heat and my skin conditions don't get along. Ah, but glorious fall is almost here, and I have no excuses. Eager for kickboxing to start up again in the fall. I might even give yoga a try again if I can find an instructor and classmates I don't want to punch.

Ommmm.

I want less. Less everything. Less is more! Less is good. Less is happiness.

Unless, of course, your last name is Duggar.

I have days like this

2009-08-26T16:41:00.000-07:00

Today is about stillness.

I woke up after not-enough-sleep, got the kids dressed, fed, lunches made, out the door and to school.

Went to work, picked up things, answered emails, designed some business cards, labels and ads, answered more emails.

Left the office, checked on my consignment balance and picked up some fall clothes for the kids. Organized some things in the home office, put together some Fishful Thinking goody bags for next week, heated up leftover Chinese food, tried for the 4th time this week to rid the carpet of our almost-12-year-old dog's latest puke fest, put away dishes, cleaned the kitchen.

Answered more emails, picked up the kids from school, had snack time with the kids, changed a diaper (not mine. yet.), cleaned up toys, took some pictures.

Now one tot is walking around the house in princess shoes singing songs, while the other is figuring out which toys he wants to keep and which I'm allowed to give away (one guess which pile is bigger).

And I'm sitting here typing. Tap tap tap. It doesn't sound like a horrible day, but it has been. It has been a monster of a day. It has been one of those days that makes me question what on earth I did to make the karma gods angry and pelt me with one craptastic situation after another. I fought the suckiness tooth and nail and I'm still not quite sure who won. I'm not quite sure I have the energy today to care.

While madness piled on me throughout the day, I became more and more still. I am trying to listen to my gut, my heart, my head all at the same time, but everybody's quiet today.

Today is not a day for answers, and this is ok. It's ok to have a sucky day and just be.

And now the littles are restless for mommy to stop the tap tap tapping and to start the making of the evening meal. Tomorrow will most definitely be a better, brighter day. But tonight, I'm content sitting still in whatever this is, and just letting it be.

She speaks. We just need to listen.

2009-08-19T07:30:00.000-07:00

It's been a month since our two-year-old daughter was evaluated for possible speech delays. While we were somewhat relieved it was determined her case was not severe and that she did not at this time qualify for speech therapy, it was also a very frustrating result. What were we supposed to do now? Continue working with her as we have been? Wait and hope for her to magically one day start speaking?

Since that evaluation, our always vocal, constantly singing little girl has started pointing to items in books now and labeling them. She has been asking for items that she wants by name. She has been counting up a storm.

What's that? You don't hear her saying the words? What do you mean you don't hear the words?

Oh, you hear what we used to hear.

But then we started listening. Really freakin' listening. Hard. When she speaks, the world stops, and we all lean in closer.

And that's when we hear her. Her words are there. She just doesn't always pronounce the first syllable, and sometimes she misses the last syllable. But when we started really focusing and listening to her we knew exactly what she was saying.

She says some words very clearly. Mommy, daddy, go, no (oh how she LOVES the word "no"!), counting 1-10, and a smattering of other words. She's starting, slowly, to say more words very clearly, with precision. Now we know she actually can say the majority of other words too but not an a way that the average person can understand. For instance, "grapes" may sound like "aeapes" and "snack" is "ack." She says each word with great inflection, and when we are totally focused on her, we understand completely.

So now we just continue to work with her. Her big brother has been a super teaching assistant in her language development. She loves to copy him, and a lot of her speech development has come from her learning from him. It's incredible to see, and just fills our hearts so much.

Of course, sometimes she'll just copy us exactly and say the words clearly. Like this morning. Herding the kids out of one room, my husband said "Let's go peeps!" She promptly copied exactly what he said, clear as day.

We're getting there.

A Day in the Life...at the Office

2009-08-14T23:45:00.000-07:00

I just posted my first story on Whrrl.com. Oh that's dangerous. Much, much too much fun to be had on that site.

Photos + stories? Hours more of internet time. I can see it now.

Husband, rolling eyes, telling me to stop with all the social media. I can see it now.

The first story is a little visit to my office. Enjoy!

C is for Cookie

2009-08-13T18:54:00.000-07:00

While we bake a lot at our house, Thursday is our standing baking day. My son and I try to bake something different ever Thursday after school. We'll bake lots of different kinds of bread, brownies, tarts, but we really like to bake cookies. Today we went through our dessert recipe book and made a list of all of the cookies he would like to try to make, so that we never run out of ideas (and so I can prep ingredients beforehand) for our baking dates.

Apparently, I'm very enthusiastic about cookies, because while going over the recipes, my son asked me, "Why are you SO excited about cookies?!" Then when I was trying to convince him that we really should add the cappuccino chocolate chocolate chip with mocha cream filling cookies to our list, he looked at me with bewilderment and said "that's way too much chocolate!" I beg to differ. I've made them before, and think they're just the right amount of chocolate! YUM. You be the judge. Here's a photo of the last time I made them:

Here's a brief look at our list of cookies:

oatmeal chocolate chocolate chip cookies
gingersnap cookies
sugar cookies
double chocolate biscotti (because they're dunkable!)
snickerdoodles
chocolate chip snowballs
peppermint bark (ok, technically not cookies, but whatever)
peanut butter blossoms
midnight crackles
oatmeal toffee butterscotch cookies
gingerbread cookies
rugulach
chewy chocolate gingerbread cookies

Out of about 350+ cookie recipes, we had about 25 that we agreed we would both like. My own list would have, well, about 350+ different kinds of cookies I would like to make.

We also started discussing our holiday baking list today. What? I know it's still August. Don't look at me like that.

What are your favorite cookies to make with the kids?

Our Action-Packed 3-Day Mini-Vaca

2009-08-04T20:56:00.000-07:00

If you follow this blog, you know my son has slowly -but loudly- been coming out of his shell the past two years. He's up for trying new adventures, which just makes this mama flying high giddy with joy. When we were given the chance to spend a long weekend in Sunriver Resort in Central Oregon, we jumped on it. As with all of our trips, I logged a decent amount of computer time researching the family-friendliness of the resort, with my son by my side. After studying the site, his own detailed list of Must Do's while we were there: golfing, bike riding, swimming, kayaking, pony rides, rock climbing, the Observatory, the Nature Center, the High Desert Museum. We were only going to be there from Friday afternoon through a Sunday afternoon, so obviously unless we cloned ourselves there was no way we were going to do all of those things. But by goly, we sure were going to try!

Growing up in Portland, Oregon I had been to Sunriver a handful of times. It is about a 3.5 to 4 hour drive from downtown Portland, depending on the route you take and the weather conditions through mountain passes. The majority of my experiences with Sunriver are pre-kids: renting a house with 8-10 other friends for a long weekend, and just sort of hanging out (read: drinking, grilling, running, biking, drinking). So I was excited to see the resort in a whole different light.

Here's what we did do:

Stopped at Deschutes Brewery & Public House a few miles outside of Sunriver in Bend, Oregon, followed by a family-friendly tour of the nearby Deschutes Brewing Facility:

Played golf at Caldera Links, a family-friendly 9-hole golf-course. I use the term "played" loosely, since nobody in our party really Golfs, per se. My 2 year old danced around and sang (wide open green spaces = perfect for just that!), and my son & his 4-year-old cousin took some breaks to try to catch the hundreds of tiny frogs hopping about the course.

Went swimming at the South Pool, one of four main pools on resort grounds. My kids LOVE the water so much. I think it would make sense for our next house to trade a backyard for just straight swimming pool.

Ate dinner while a family of deer hung around outside right next to our back deck:

Hiked halfway (ok maybe a quarter of the way) up the Lava Beds:

We also rode bikes, enjoyed ice cream in the main resort shopping/eating area, visited the High Desert Museum (pricey admission, but the kids had fun; the bat exhibit area is a must) on the way back home, and just had the best time. The drive to and from Sunriver was just gorgeous. I'll post those photos in the next post. All in all, it was an AMAZING time and we cannot wait to visit again soon!

Hot, Hot, Hot

2009-07-30T00:27:00.001-07:00

It was 108 degrees in some parts of Portland today. It's Day Three of Hotpocalypse, and tomorrow it's supposed to start cooling down to 100, then 90s over the weekend. We Pacific NW folk aren't used to this kind of heat. My webbed feet are melting.

Luckily, both our house and my office are well insulated, so they stay cool. I didn't need to turn on the air conditioning in the office until late afternoon on Monday (it was 103) or Tuesday (105) and today I turned it on around 1pm.

Normally we'd go cool off at the fountains around town, but we've just been staying indoors as much as possible. Shut-ins during summer -- it's almost a crime!

Farm Fresh Fridays: Round Up

2009-07-22T12:36:00.000-07:00

In our lil' experiment to visit a different farm each Friday this summer, we've been able to experience a decent variety of farms on the westside of town. We've decided to skip the bigger, more popular farms like Sauvie Island/Kruger's farms for the smaller farms. For those that live in or near the Portland area, or are thinking of visiting, I thought I'd do a quick round-up of the farms my kids & I have visited during our Farm Fresh Fridays experiment (apologies in advance for some of the bad cell phone photos).

If you live outside of Portland, do you have a good variety of farms where you live and do they all have kid-friendly activities and areas like U-Pick, picnic areas, play areas, petting zoos, and camps? Let me know! I'd love to hear what other cities and states have, and I'm sure those who live in your area would love to know more family-friendly spots to visit as well!

BAGGENSTOS FARMS

15801 SW Roy Rogers Road
Sherwood, OR 97140

Phone/fax: 503-590-4301

Pros: Big parking lot, large play structure, nice mostly-shaded picnic area, goats & chicken coop U-Pick: Strawberries, raspberries, blackberries during the summer; pumpkin patch in the fall

SCHLICTING FARM

503.625.3312
20225 SW Scholls-Sherwood Rd.
Sherwood, OR 97140
Note: The photos on their website absolutely do NOT do this place justice. Pros: Friendly staff, beautiful hanging baskets, great selection of fruits & vegetables in the store, super fun "Coop" filled with metal art pieces in shapes of animals and other ornamental decor that our kids loved. U-Pick: Lots of options! Strawberries, cucumbers, zucchini, corn, tomatoes, peppers and more during the summer; pumpkin patch during the fall. You can also pick fresh flowers.

SMITH BERRY BARN

24500 SW Scholls Ferry Rd Hillsboro, OR 97123-9320
(503) 628-2172
Pros: Kids can feed the goats & chickens, adorable "country store" with ice cream/coffee shop, small selection of fruits & veggies for sale, and some pricey but stylish kitchen accessories and decor. We always get a new retro-style button for my son when we visit (at $1.25 each).
U-Pick: berries during the summer

BLUEBERRY HILL
13794 SW Roy Rogers Rd.
Sherwood, OR 97140
(503) 590-1525
This place is all about picking berries: blueberries, raspberries, marionberries, blackberries. Best blueberries and raspberries around, in my opinion. All at a great price too!

LOLICH'S FARM
Phone: 503.352.4448
18407 SW Scholls Ferry Road
Beaverton, OR 97007
Pros: picnic area, friendly staff
U-Pick: blueberries (but they also have cherries, raspberries, marionberries and more that they've picked & sell in the store)

Why a Vacation Sans Kiddos Is Not a Vacation

2009-07-13T21:41:00.000-07:00

At the start of this month, my husband and I did something we'd never done before: took an actual vacation without the kids. Oh sure, we went to the beach overnight for about 20 hours without them once. We event went to SXSW in Austin, TX for 5 days without them. But overnight trips are quick, and SXSW was crammed with conference and work...and in the same country. We not only left our kids for a few days, but we left the country. Yeah. I nearly pissed my pants from anxiety the entire week before we left (kidding. I just didn't sleep for 5 days. Not kidding about that).

It was a tough call to make: do we take the kids or don't we? We did travel a few times back East and once internationally once with our son when he was younger. Now we've got two kids, including a newly 2 year old daughter who will not sit still in a shopping cart for 2 full minutes, so asking the two to travel for 20 hours? Out of the question. Oh, and my daughter also likes to scream. Loudly. Not just when she's upset, but, well, all the time.

We could have separated them and just took our son while our daughter stayed with my parents, but to separate these two would have been devastating. They LIVE for each other, as I mentioned in my last post. They would have been heartbroken without each other for a whole 5 days. That's a heartbreak that this mama just couldn't live with.

Finally, we really only had 3 full days of non-travel. The kids wouldn't have even had a chance to acclimate before we'd have to leave again.

So the hubby and I went to Zurich to visit family on our own. My parents stayed and spoiled the kids. Zurich with family? Yes, it was insanely fabulous and I loved catching up with my in-laws (who are truly the greatest in-laws on earth; I am so very lucky). Here's hubby and I having a great time in Zurich:

But it was also an internal hell for me. I missed my kids INSANELY. I was so anxious being so far away from them, worried about what could possibly happen and how long it would take us to get back. But the worst part? Everywhere we went, everything we saw, I couldn't help but think "oh, my son would love that" or "oh man, I wish my daughter could experience that at this age." I had these thoughts literally every few minutes. About EVERYTHING. It was bad enough to give my stomach knots and cause more insomnia. You know, because my normal everyday, in-town insomnia isn't bad enough.

I loved this trip...and I hated this trip. That's the awful truth. I know I should be so thankful that we were able to take this time and be together. I love my husband dearly, and we were able to spend some great quality time together. Yet there were the kids...totally happy, having the greatest time being taken to a million super fun places and being doted on every second by my parents...and me being quietly miserable thousands of miles and oceans away.

So now that we've done the trip I can honestly say that I never want to go anyplace for a vacation that long and that far away without my kids again. No way. I suck at it. I've traveled, I know what it's like, but this is their time. It's time for my kids to see the world together, it's my job to show it to them and I would absolutely love nothing more than to see the world through their excited youthful eyes. Next year, we're taking 2 full weeks and taking the kids to Switzerland, Italy, France and maybe Germany. Now I just need to figure out how to pay for it...

Best Friends

2009-06-24T22:26:00.000-07:00

My brother and I are about 10 years apart. I love him to death, but I don't think he and I experienced the kind of sibling relationship that most of my other friends who had brothers or sisters close in age did. But now, I get to watch it unfold with my own kids, and it's quite the trip.

Now, I was warned about a lot of things before having two kids, but nobody told me about how cool it would be to watch my son and my daughter grow to love each other so much. Nobody told me that watching them play together and react so strongly to one another would sucker punch my heart and make me lose my breath from the intensity of my love for them as a unit. Nobody told me that I would never be able to explain just how incredible it would feel to raise two kids who were so in love with each other.

my kids over a year ago. all about the love.

These two silly kids of mine... They crack each other up like no one else can. They drive each other nuts like no one else can. They support one another. They get into all sorts of trouble together. They are always, always thinking and looking out for the other. In short, they are inseparable. Wherever one goes, the other follows; whatever one does, the other must do as well.

our two monkeys goofing off a few months ago at Five Guys Burger & Fries

It fills my mama heart so much to see my kids growing up together. My husband and I will seriously sit on the couch and do nothing but watch them for 30 minutes straight, in total awe of their relationship. I don't think I've ever witnessed a love like these two have for one another. It's crazy cool. It helps make the really difficult moments of raising two kids (of which, there are M.A.N.Y!) totally completely over the moon worth it. And then some. And then some.

PS - wanna know the freakiest activity these two like to do together all the time? Clean the house. Yep. If I'm picking up around the house, one will grab the Clorox wipes and they both will excitedly start cleaning the tables, chairs, stairs, or one will grab the broom and start sweeping while the other picks up items to put away... I am most definitely NOT going to mess with a good thing and let them continue with this weird behavior for as long as they want! You know, because it obviously brings them closer together. :)

My kid's not shy, he's just not that into you

2009-06-17T17:11:00.001-07:00

I'm totally kidding about that headline, but I've always wanted to say it to annoying strangers who get in my kids' faces at the grocery store.

My kids are my greatest teachers, and perhaps the best lesson they have given me is that no person - be it Mother, Father, Teacher - has the ability to control another person's soul. We may be able to help shape ideals, help instill values, but there are personality traits that are just inherent in us from the time we're conceived.

My son is what a lot of people call "shy." It's not a label I agree with, because he's really not. He just knows what he likes and what he doesn't like. During a fabulous hour-long pediatrician's visit for his 5-year visit (love our kids' pediatrician!) she observed him for a while, asked a lot of questions, and noted "he's just that kid in the class who's a little bit smarter than the others. He's smart enough to know better." Now I'm not saying my kid is smarter than other kids (hee hee!), but I do know he's keenly aware, almost hyper-aware, of his surroundings: the noise, the logistics, the possibilities of what could happen. He's always been that way. He observes everything in great detail, makes very quick assessments, and decides. If he decides it's not the situation for him, all bets are off. The doc says most kids grow out of this, and eventually play into what we adults expect as normal social kid behavior, and we just need to understand that he just may not be the lead in the school play.

When people who know (very loud, extroverted) me observe my "shy" son, they often say (and I've heard this a LOT): "How did YOU get a shy kid? Is Dad shy?" No, actually. I was. When I look at my son, I see myself at exactly 5 years old, wearing this ridiculous peach pouffy hideous dress ...thing... that was my mom's favorite, hiding in the bedroom during one of my parent's many gatherings. We always had tons of people over at our house when I was growing up. I remember very clearly this one party, where my mom came into the room and begged me to come outside and say hello to everyone. I really didn't want to. I cried. A lot. I remember the moment - and the feelings I had- clearly. I wasn't necessarily a shy kid, I just knew I did not want to be in that room with those specific people at that moment. I went out on my own eventually. Which is how I've always been, and still am to some extent this day.

My son is not quiet, by any means. He is not at all reserved. He is quite loud, animated, boisterous, imaginative, and extremely high energy. Have I mentioned how LOUD he is? I think it's funny that some people think he's shy. To me, he's anything but shy!

So now I'm the Mama. I'm the one throwing the parties and bringing my kids to this social activity and that. But when my son doesn't want to go to someone's house, as much as it pains me sometimes because it's my friend's house and *I* really want to go socialize, we talk about his reasons for not wanting to go, and if they're reasonable, I say... okay.

There are many, many circumstances where I think I need to be firm with my kids about rules. And certainly we discuss the importance of being polite. But when it comes to circumstances that are not so important in the grand scheme of things? It's not my job to push my kids into doing things that make them totally uncomfortable; what kind of message does that send? I definitely work with them to go outside of their comfort zones, but not to the point of making them miserable. I am working on just letting them be themselves. It's not always easy. My friends don't always understand, especially if their kids are different, and especially if my friends have totally different parenting values (many of them do). For me, it's just another step in the process of learning to let go, and let them grow.

Magical Adventure, Part Two: The Sistahs

2009-06-14T22:19:00.000-07:00

Hi. My name is Marlynn, and I am in a sorority.

It's true. Most of my life I've replied to the question of whether or not I joined a sorority with "Noooo, I'm part of a sisterhood!" or "It's really more of a supportive community than a sorority" or "whatchyou talkin' about Willis?" (actually, I just like to answer every question with that question when I can). If you would have told me in high school that I would someday be part of a sorority, I would have probably told you to go f*ck yourself. No way! I saw sororities as groups of sheep, people who liked to follow, they were blonde and blue-eyed and did stupid shit like have high teas. Well, my sorority experience was certainly different - very different - from the sorority stories I would hear from friends at other colleges. When I met the women of Sigma Pi Theta at Emerson College, I didn't see a group of followers, I saw a diverse group of extremely strong women who were all leaders in their own way. To this small town fish out of water, I think they initially scared the shit out of me. But I couldn't have had a better welcoming committee to not only help introduce me to the college, but to the possibilities of my life.

When I went to college, I had never been to the East Coast, never visited the college, didn't know a soul in Boston, and was a general wreck with a lot of emotional baggage. It's true: you can't fully give love unless you learn to love yourself exactly as you are and learn to support and trust others despite your differences. That is the gift that my Sigma sisters gave me: the gift of self-awareness, self-acceptance, and eventually, self-love.

No matter where I've been since joining Sigma, no matter what I've done, it is their unconditional, unending support during those college years and beyond that helps carry me through my darkest days and helps widen my smile on my most exciting life highs. We do not all see eye-to-eye, but at the end of the day, I know that we are all here for each other 100 percent. I do not exaggerate when I say I would do almost anything for my sisters, and I know in my heart that they would do anything for me.

So last weekend was like coming home for me. Not only to the place where I finally became ME, but to be with the women who helped me understand myself so that I could have the strength to be myself, life scars and all.

Look at this picture: these women are accomplished lawyers, executive tv producers, actresses, nonprofit leaders, supermoms, journalists, event producers, cancer survivors, ad execs...but more importantly than those titles, they are supportive, genuine, generous, kind, compassionate, trustworthy and loving. These women will always have my heart. They will always have my sisterhood, trust, and love. I wish for every woman in the world to have the kind of support & strength I know I have in these women. It has made such a difference in all that I do. Thanks, sistahs ;-)

photo posted originally by the amazing Vicki Ceasar Rule but I think it was taken by cute waiter #2 (the one who somehow convinced me that I *needed* the larger, more expensive glass of wine)

Magical Adventure, Part One

2009-06-08T11:03:00.000-07:00

I write this on the last leg of a journey that I didn’t know I would be embarking upon even 72 hours ago. A wild, spontaneous trip down memory lane. A gift to my soul. A weekend that perhaps will be one of the best in my entire life, for so many reasons.

It began Thursday round 7 am. I checked my phone, twitter stream and facebook updates. There they were: updates from girlfriends near and far all packing, reminiscing, giddy with excitement for our sorority’s 30^th anniversary reunion in Boston (and no I’m not a rah-rah typical sorority girl but I am part of an incredible sisterhood – more on that in a different post). I wasn’t planning on going. I couldn’t afford to. I had no idea until a few days prior whether my weekend would require work or not. It didn’t. My sisters’ voices came through. Their words fed into my gut, and my gut was telling me that I needed to go to Boston. I always listen to my gut.

WHEELS IN MOTION

As the mother of two young children, owner of two businesses, and slave to a million different commitments at any given time, going with the flow is my life. I didn’t think twice about setting the wheels in motion. This felt right. I had to go. I just needed to get the all clear from the man I loved, who has always supported me and my kooky ideas and crazy adventures. But even this was crazier than anything I had ever done before. Would he go for it? At 7:23 I called my husband and asked him if it would be too crazy for me to fly to Boston, like, TOMORROW for the weekend. Would he be ok with that? Without hesitation, my sweet, supportive husband said yes, go. Then I texted my friend K in Portland, who is also a sister and an adventurous spirit. I needed a partner in crime. I went about my morning getting the kids ready for school, getting myself ready for work, waiting to hear back from K. After I got into work around 9:30 am I got an email from K. And then another one. She was in. I was shocked and ecstatic. The chase was on to find a cheap flight/hotel deal at the last minute.

THE DEAL

For the next 5 hours, K and I exchanged emails and phone calls in between work, my spending time with my son (who went to work with me that day instead of school – that’s another story), and scavenging the internet for travel deals. At 3:05pm, as I was headed with my son to pick up my daughter from school, I secured a deal. It took forever, and I am pretty sure I racked up more late charges from picking up my daughter late from preschool. Our flight was a red-eye, set to take off from Portland at 11:15pm THAT. VERY. NIGHT. Oh shit. We got a super sweet deal for flights and a hotel room. I got on the phone to now find a babysitter for the kids for Friday. As luck would have it, my dad was taking the next day off. He agreed to watch the kids the whole day. A miracle.

THE HAIRCUT

I drove back home with both kids, fed them their usual snacks, and called my pal Susy. I knew it was a total long shot, but could she fit me in for a haircut today? 4:30? Sure! Another miracle. Now keep in mind I have both kids with me… my kids are absolutely crazy wild together in public places, so I knew I was taking a huge chance in asking them to sit and play in one area while I sat in a chair and got a haircut. But I finished up snack time with them, stuffed my son’s backpack full of toys, changed my daughter’s diaper, stuffed my purse with bags of snacks and off we went. We got there 5 minutes late, but I got my haircut. AND, my kids were ANGELS. Absolute wonder kids who listened to me, played nicely, and my daughter even sat in ONE SPOT for a few minutes, contentedly. It was like magic!

THE RACE IN A FREAK STORM

A freak huge storm brewed out of the blue skies while we were at the salon, so I had to grab both of my kids (who were dressed for the sunny weather) and run to the car in the pouring rain. We were all laughing so much from racing to the car in pouring rain, in our tank tops and shorts. We battled traffic on the way home, and I listened to news reports of possible flight delays that night due to the storm. Oh hell no! I don’t think so! I just spent my whole day and bought nonrefundable tickets so we were going to go on this trip!

Hubby and I got home around the same time, and I started getting the kids’ food prepped for the night and for the next day. Then I packed/threw whatever clothes I knew fit me into my bag, wrote my usual notes to my husband and the kids that I leave for them before I go on a trip, spent about 15 minutes yelling at Travelocity on the phone about an error they made that they weren’t taking accountability for, and then it was time to go pick up K.

MAGIC WINGS

We made our flight. Somehow we were upgraded to exit row seats and had glorious legroom. More magic! We flew into Chicago for the most beautiful sunrise, with the city lights still twinkling against a bright pink and violet sky. We flew into Logan airport, rode the T like we’ve never left, and emerged from the T station at Copley place with this incredible sense of coming home. It had been 13 years since I had stepped foot in Boston, and it gave me a huge welcome home hug that made me want to cry.

The rest of the weekend has been an amazing whirlwind that I will write about in another post, because the significance of what this weekend means to me, the person I’ve become, the life I now choose to lead, needs to be written. But right now, I am sitting on a plane, having had 2 hours of sleep, a magical weekend worth of memories dancing in my tired brain, feeling so alive, so thankful, so blessed . I can’t believe my pal K agreed to come along with me on this last-minute madcap adventure. I can’t believe my amazing husband was so supportive of this trip. I can’t believe we were all able to pull off organizing a weekend’s worth of planning in just a few hours. I can’t believe…as a busy mamapreneur with a crazy wacked out schedule…I can’t believe I was able to pull it off, and now I’m coming home again, having been with my sisters, and can’t wait to snuggle my babies!!

The Pelican Beach

2009-06-02T12:28:00.000-07:00

If you don't live near a coastline, you might want to stop reading, because after this post, you're going to SO be wishing you lived near a beach, you just might try to convince your loved ones to make a move :) At least, that's my goal.

My little family likes to go to the beach. A lot. Did I say "like?" I meant LOVE. We try to go at least once a month, and often will go twice a month during the summer months. One of the many benefits of living in Portland, Oregon is that we can hit the coast and smell that Pacific Ocean air in a little over an hour. We've determined we can't live more than a couple of hours away from an ocean, and I honestly don't know how some folks do live so far away from an ocean all their lives (really: how do you??).

We frequent many different beaches, all between 1 and 3 hours away from home, but my son's favorite is Pacific City, or what he calls "The Pelican beach" mainly because of this:

The Pelican Pub & Brewery has changed a LOT since I was young, but so too has Pacific City (for better or worse). Some think it's gotten too built up; food is quite expensive, I must say, at the Pelican Pub & Brewery. Some think it hasn't been "commercialized" enough: no real room service (read: no breakfast in bed that includes eggs, bacon, pancakes, etc nor dinner or late night snacks) in their main hotel, the Inn at Cape Kiwanda.

But what you do get is this:

A beautiful huge cliff that rises above the beach.
And this:

the most amazing view of the Pacific Ocean, a big huge crazy rock, blue skies with fast moving artsy clouds, and sand that isn't as peppered with broken branches and random debris as some other Oregon beaches are.

If you do go, we love the Inn at Cape Kiwanda, even without the benefit of full room service (sniff sniff - perhaps a future addition to the hotel amenities? hmm???!). The hotel is a short walk from the beach and the Pelican Pub & Brewery. The staff is honestly one of the best I have ever encountered. They are attentive, have a policy of responding to your needs/requests with immediate, kind attention, and they're honestly just so, so nice. Friday and Saturday evenings they have a wine tasting in the lobby with nice Oregon wines, where you get to meet some of the other guests, who are seriously usually as nice as the staff. The rooms are spacious enough for our wild little family of four, they have pet-friendly room options, and the prices are reasonable compared to other Oregon beach hotels. Check it out.

Plus, all rooms face the ocean, so this would be your view:

Not a bad view at all :)

It was good while it lasted

2009-06-01T11:56:00.000-07:00

Taking vacation when you run 2 businesses is never an easy task. I was supposed to be on vacation from last Wednesday May 27th through tomorrow, June 1st. Well, new clients came in (hooray for new clients! but why is the timing always off?), requiring me to work all day & night last Wednesday after a 14-hour work day on Tuesday. Then Thursday my husband stayed home sick and my son stayed home for what was supposed to be a special birthday fun day. And then today, on what should be my day of solitude and peace, I've been battling my bank on business banking issues that really should have been resolved at least a year ago (grrr banks), making necessary appointments for my kids (that were supposed to be made last week), and dealing with technology issues (like none of my software works and I can't reply to any emails. it's great fun! grr...).

So in the end, what I really had instead of a nice, relaxing 5-day vacation, was 2.5 days at the beach with my family, which, as you know, can sometimes not be so relaxing but heck, I'll take it! I enjoyed at least one full day of Vacation, with a capital V. It was awesome. LOVED it. And I wish it didn't seem so long ago already...

At least, I made an attempt to take a vacation, and at least, I was able to spend the weekend with my family doing things other than our usual weekend housework and errands. And now, back to the grind...

Now the mother of a FIVE-year-old

2009-05-28T05:30:00.000-07:00

I have practiced saying this for the past couple of weeks: "My FIVE year old..." Rinse, repeat, go numb, freak out a little, freak out some more, fight a tear, flash of five years of memories, rinse, repeat: "I have a FIVE year old son..."

Today's the day. At 4:34 pm on May 28, 2004, my son Ethan was born.

What the WHAT?! Yeah his name is Ethan, not Boo, as I've been calling him here since I started this blog when he was 4 months old. Shocking, I know. :) Let me introduce you now to Ethan. MY FIVE YEAR OLD.

And my name is Marlynn, and I am the mom to said FIVE YEAR OLD.

Annoyed by the all caps yet? Well that's the only way I can think it, speak it, write it. I don't know why five is freaking me out more than four or three or two... but it is.

Maybe it's because at this age, he's truly come into his own person. Over the past year, my husband and I have watched his confidence blossom, he's become more outspoken and outgoing, which has just caused his already ingrained curiosity and fascination with every detail about everything just explode. He is no longer baby, toddler, but Big Kid. The conversations we have just blow my mind! The things he knows, observes, takes in, understands and the questions he has are so insightful and thoughtful... each day I feel like I walk around with a stupid awed look on my face because that's how I feel. I can't believe that's my son, my little boy, asking me those things, saying those huge words, doing all this math (and loving the math - he doesn't get that from me) and reading all of those books so well! My son! My FIVE YEAR OLD son!

I am in awe of the human being he's become, and can't wait to continue to watch him grow. He's taught me so much about life, about relationships, about patience, about my own strengths and challenges. He's my oldest, my dear sweet, helpful and kind son, and now he's FIVE.

Happy birthday, Ethan. You will always be my baby Boo, but also your own fabulous individual self. I am so, SO very proud of you, big kid! HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my FIVE YEAR OLD!!!!

Ethan wearing his 5-year-old t-shirt a week early. He designed the "5" by choosing all of his favorite dinosaurs & helping me with layout. The kid knows how to do some basic work (with my help) in Photoshop already.

Wishing Others Happiness

2009-05-25T21:02:00.000-07:00

I'm excited to watch tonight's season premiere of Jon & Kate Plus Eight. I'm not a regular viewer but after everything that's happened to them in the media the past few weeks, I feel this odd protectiveness of them. Do I think Kate can be a little overbearing sometimes? Sure. Do I think Jon really cheated on her, and she on him? Maybe. But in the end, what I think doesn't matter. What you think doesn't matter. It pisses me off to no end that there are hundreds of people out there who revel in other people's unhappiness. Why do people care so much about other people's personal problems and have such strong opinions? I don't get it. I mean, I get the fascination part: I am a sucker for bad reality television because it's a nice escape from the craziness of my own real life. But really, do I ever want anyone I see on television to be unhappy? Do I wish horrible things to happen to them if I disagree with their beliefs, think they're a jackass, or I can't believe what they have done? No. I think that's horrible. What kind of person thinks that way, about anyone, regardless of whether they are on tv or not? I don't care what you do behind closed doors. I don't care about your personal life. I simply wish you happiness and joy and the strength to triumph through life's many difficult challenges. That's it. I don't understand how anyone can ever hope anything differently for others, much less strangers.

So I'm a few minutes away from the Jon & Kate Plus Eight season premiere. In the end, she's a mom, a woman, a human being; he's a dad, a man, a human being. Together they are parents with good days and bad days just like the rest of us, and no matter what, you cannot doubt that they love their children more than anything. For that, they deserve happiness, they deserve positive thoughts and strength to deal with challenges as we all do, they deserve our respect. Life is not easy, for anybody. We should be here for each other, as fellow human beings all trying to do the best we can, regardless. Bottom line.

Farm Fresh Fridays

2009-05-22T12:51:00.000-07:00

My husband and I are both a little schizo when it comes to where we prefer to live. Part city dwellers/part beach addicts, the one place we swore we'd never live is exactly where we are living: the 'burbs. We've been here for 4 years now, and love it. It takes us 15-40 min to get to downtown depending on traffic, 1 and a half hours to get to the beach, 2 minutes to get to the countryside, and 2-15 minutes to get to our favorite vineyards. One of the benefits of living in Portland, Oregon is the abundance of fresh, mostly organic ingredients pretty much everywhere you go; one of the benefits of living where we do in particular is our proximity to dozens of different farms. Farmers markets are great, but they're too overwhelming for our son, and it's no fun for me to spend the entire time chasing my daughter in crowded areas (she will not stand for being contained in a stroller or carrier). And while we've bought produce from our neighboring farms before, we've never gone there with the specific goal of teaching our kids about where food comes from and talking with the farmers about what they do.

So on a whim the other night, I decided it would be fun to do Farm Fresh Fridays with the kids. Each Friday, we're going to be visiting a different farm near our house and learning more about where food comes from by chatting with the different owners/farm workers. Today was the first day of this little experiment, and I am so pleased with our little adventure. First stop: the Schlichting Century Farm, one of the few that are open already to the public for the summer.

It's still pretty early in the season, so the kids were able to see little sprouts of different vegetables cropping up in the farm, but most of our time was spent in the farm's general store. It's overflowing with beautiful flowers, vegetable starts, and hazelnuts, honey and jams made from the farm's (and other local farms') bounty. The women there were very helpful and informative. I love that my kids can learn about where food comes from in its actual place of origin (for the most part). The best part about this place for the kids: The Coop. It's like a big chicken coop except instead of real chickens it's filled with the coolest metal sculptures of roosters, pigs, horses, and other farm animals. My kids could have honestly stayed in The Coop all day.

In the end, we went home with basil and mint plants, strawberries, garlic and corn. The kids were hungry & excited to dig in, so lunch consisted of strawberries with mint and basil, corn with basil lime garlic butter and some Tillamook cheese we picked up. Nothing exciting, but the kids gobbled it up and the best part was when my son declared "Food tastes so much better when it's fresh, mom." Uh, yes it does son, yes it does. A concept he doesn't quite get so easily from the store or even the farmers market, but it clearly resonated from visiting the farm today and then creating a meal with what we picked up. Again, we've done this before, but never with the clear purpose of teaching my kids and it made a surprising difference.

We may not do Farm Fresh Friday every week (f0r instance, my son & I have already talked about doing a Firefighter Friday where we go visit a fire station), but we're going to try. There are berry farms, vegetable farms, nurseries, llama & alpaca farms, dairy farms, nut farms, and vineyards all around us. I'm excited for my kids to see the places we've been visiting the past few years in a different light, and to get to know our local farms even better.

Confidence=Creativity

2009-05-19T21:39:00.000-07:00

My son is a lover of rules and rituals. I know most kids crave them, but my son not only thrives on them, he relies on them and if one thing is off, the whole day is off. Sometimes, I would fear he lived in the world of rules too much. Things that are new are almost always a frightening battle for him. I cannot fully explain just how LARGE of a battle even the slightest tiniest little change from routine could be. As someone who loves systems but also thrives on impulse and creativity, it's honestly been a challenge for me to try to explain how breaks from routine can be a good thing, how drawing outside of the lines can lead to masterpieces.

About a month ago, we were playing with a stacking puzzle he's had for a while now. Everytime, he has to recreate the puzzle exactly as it's seen in the picture on the box, because that's how all other puzzles are done, right? Well this one is created so you can stack the puzzle in many different ways - the possibilities are endless! So on this one day, I was shocked and pleased to hear my son utter the words "mom, I don't need to make the puzzle look like the picture. I can stack them any way I want!" Oh the joy! Those are the exact words I have been saying to him since he got the puzzle! I watched as he excitedly created not one but three different stacks, moving the animal pieces here and there, trying different combinations. He seemed so liberated, so free, so happy, so... confident.

And that's when it hit me: we have the most ability to tap into our creativity when we are confident, when we feel empowered to draw outside of that line. I've been fortunate to be one of 10 Faculty Moms working with Pepperidge Farm's Fishful Thinking program, and one of the five key ingredients the research shows most positive, optimistic kids possess is empowerment: believing that they CAN. That's exactly what I saw when he did that puzzle that day: he was empowered to do his own thing.

Over the past year, my son's confidence has slowly been building. Being a big brother has helped give him that: he's good at it, really great at it actually. Big Brother is the role my son has always been meant to play, and he thrives in that role. As his mom, watching his confidence grow has been so incredible! But that day, that moment when the light bulb went off and he realized that hey, he really can stack the puzzle any way he wanted... well, it was one of those magical moments that mamas remember forever.

My Mother's Day Letter

2009-05-10T13:38:00.001-07:00

Dear Kids,

May 28, 2004, I gave birth to you, Boo, the original inspiration for this blog. Then 3 years later, I gave birth to your sister. I still remember every emotion of those days, and the very moment you each came into the world and made it better.

Yesterday your auntie K - one of your many special magical aunties whom you are blessed to have in your lives, who doesn't have kids of the non-furry variety - asked why anyone would willingly jump into motherhood with all of its challenges. We moms are quick to openly vent about the sleepless nights, the challenging days filled with non-stop cleaning up messes, disciplining, illnesses, the oh-so-hard early days with breastfeeding, sleep issues, feeding issues...how so very tired and in pain we are physically, mentally, emotionally. And all of that is a necessary part of being Mom, including the venting. But at the end of the day, underneath all of the stress, sleep-deprivation, constant motion and hard, hard work, there is this: an unconditional incomparable love like no other that changes our world in ways we can never fully explain.

Above all the challenges, the pain, there is you:

And you:

Many of my friends don't have kids and many have decided that being a mom is not right for their lives. For me, personally, it is all I have ever truly wanted, something I could never live without; it is, in short, everything to me to be your mom. Being your mother is the greatest gift I could ever ask for, and I try never to take this gift for granted. You two make me laugh as I've never laughed before, you challenge me to be a better person all the time, and you teach me so many different ways to love, so many different levels of love, you show me a love I never thought possible. You give me hope, inspiration, and unconditional kindness. I may have given you life technically, but you are the ones who give me life each and every day. For this, I will work my hardest to be the kind of person who deserves to be your mom; I live each day to give that name, that title, the respect it deserves. I live each day for you, my littlest but greatest loves.

And there is no pain too great, no challenge too difficult, no experience too heavy to ever cause regret for my decision to go down this path. Because I know, in the end, you will always be with me, and I with you. And that, to me, is what it means to be alive.

Thank you, kids. Thank you for making me a mom. Thank you for giving me life. I love you.

All the love in the world,
Mama M

Word to All the Muthas

2009-05-09T07:07:00.000-07:00

In elementary school, my friends and I would play house. Erick or David or Troy was always the dad, and I was the mom. Always. I never remember playing one of the kids, I just remember always playing the mom. Just like it's becoming evident that my son was always born to be a big brother, I feel like being Mom is a role that -no matter what other roles would or would not come my way - was bound to be part of my life in one way or another. And I so greatly admire and respect all of the other mamas of the world out there. What you do is your business, but the fact that you do it, day in and day out? I give you mad props for that, mamas. Because I am trying to do the same thing. I learn from you, and I thank you for doing what you do because you help teach me how to be a better mom.

That's why this Mother's Day, my wish (along with seeing the new Star Trek movie at the IMAX theater!!) is that we all just effing get along. For 5 years now, I've been a mom. In those 5 years I've seen motherhood bring out the best in women and the worst, and the worst is often the ugliness I see when moms are talking about or with other moms. What is that about? Why do we feel the need to pick apart how others mother? Their choices, their skills, what they feed their children, how they discipline, what they do or do not buy their children...Every.Little.Decision we make is overanalyzed and up for discussion.

I understand that part of how we learn how to be the best mom we can be is to watch others and decide for ourselves whether or not we would do what the other mom did. That's fine. That's human. But quite frankly, I don't give a flying crap whether or not you feed your kids all organic meals or whether you eat at McDonald's, whether you only have wooden toys in your house or whether you've got a big plastic jumpy castle in your living room, whether you give time outs or not, whether you work or stay at home, whether you take your kids to church or not. Maybe it's because I've got 2 kids now and they're out of the baby stages, but I have no interest whatsoever in engaging in debates with other moms about what's "right" and what's "wrong" in terms of raising our kids. I do my research, you do yours, and let's just BE.

Because in the end, it's the relationship between you and your child that matters. I have no idea what it's like to be in your house, and you have no idea what it's like to be in mine. I love that as similar as we may be, all of our lives are so different, all of our children are unique, and all of us moms are individuals with our own way of mothering. I have the privilege of working with hundreds of mothers through the work that I do, and every one of them is a FABULOUS mother. I cherish the fact that they all do what's best for their families and that what is best is different for everyone. I am constantly amazed by how they deal with the challenges they face, how they all have these amazing highs, how much they absolutely, overwhelmingly are crazy in love with their families. I am in awe of all of you moms out there. Hats off to you, mama! You inspire me and I thank you all for loving your children and for supporting me in the ways that I love mine.

This is the weekend for appreciating ALL moms, and I just wanted you all to know that this mutha certainly appreciates all of you. I wish you all a lovely Mother's Day filled with no judgment - just love & respect! Peace, mamas. Peace.

Happy Mother's Day

2009-05-07T21:54:00.001-07:00

My son found a "C" bead made this bracelet at school, which is the first letter of my daughter's name. He decided to make a bracelet for his baby sis. Isn't it beautiful? Now, he's made a couple of bracelets at school before, but this one he made specifically for his sister. He was so excited to give it to her! BEST. MOTHER'S DAY. GIFT. EVER!

I wish all of you mamas a very Happy Mother's Day filled with love, peace and relaxation. Thank you for supporting this mama over the years!

Great Expectations

2009-04-25T20:22:00.000-07:00

I've started and stopped this post at least three times. I'm not sure I want to publish it, but if you're reading this, then, well, looks like I hit publish. It's a somewhat sensitive subject and I haven't talked about those on here for a long time, but I feel like I'm ready again. I feel like the 5 people reading this are good people who can take this info to heart and not use it for evil. So here goes...

I like to go about my days thinking that I am the kind of mama who doesn't and won't ever pressure my kids to be anything other than themselves. In most situations, I think that this truly is my attitude: kids all grow and develop on their own timelines, and as their mama, I'm really in no hurry. But... there are timelines: those dreaded milestones that plagued this new mama years ago when Boo was a teeny tiny baby, the timelines that still exist but somehow I managed to forget about them (or maybe just not care) the second time through babyhood with Baby Tickle. And while she's ahead in many areas (especially her motor skills; apparently, she's got better motor skills than most adults), she's behind in one: speech.

Boo started speaking 3-word sentences by the time he was 18 months. He was -and still is- a rockstar talker. Baby Tickle, on the other hand...well, she's a rockstar, just not of the speaking variety. At just barely 2-years-old, she now says about 10 -15 words. She knows the main baby signs and uses them when she really wants to. But, her speech isn't really clear, and she's not putting words together other than "more, please" (notice she's quick with words related to food? that's my girl :) She's basically not saying as many as other kids her age are saying, and it's really hard for me not to compare not only her to other kids, but to her brother at this age (I know! BAD mama for comparing the two developmentally! Bad!).

So our pediatrician has given us the names of some speech and hearing specialists for testing. Just to see. The doc says that it doesn't hurt to have her hearing checked, to see if she's just hearing our words muddled. She just turned two, and may, in fact, just one day start yapping up a storm. She's certainly "talkative" in that she babbles all day, plus she's quick to learn tunes to the songs we sing and hums them back almost after the second time she's heard them. She's also really starting to work hard at mimicking our words when we talk. So I know she's progressing already since our pediatrician visit. But still...better to find out if there is a speech or hearing issue now and start working on it sooner than later, I suppose.

Then, part of me can't help but wonder if it's my fault. If my casual parenting ways this time around served as the main culprit. I didn't try as hard on developing her speech with her as I did with Boo. Sure, I worked with her on it, and we read a lot every day, but I definitely wasn't as focused on her speech as I was with Boo. Part of it is that I feel she's never needed me as much as Boo did; she's so freakin' independent, we even had a sitter who said "she really didn't need me at all except to get her food and change her diaper!" I just always feel like she's going to be fine... but I need to make a conscious effort to remember that she is, still, a developing little human who does, in fact, need me to guide her. Oh, darn mommy guilt. I'm sure she'll be speaking soon enough so she can blame me for this and many other things when she's in therapy, right? Maybe she's just not talking on purpose and then one day before she's 3, I'll pick her up from her bed in the morning, she'll give me a huge hug, smile that dangerous enormous room-stopping smile of hers and say loud and clear "mama, I'm just kidding. I can speak in full sentences, read on my own, and do basic algebra already. See?"

Until then... the specialists await. Gulp.

Sleep is for the weak. Fine, I'm Weak.

2009-04-13T08:32:00.001-07:00

Well, we've had a good run. A GREAT run, actually. Our daughter has always been a great sleeper. We put her down for her naps, she blows us kisses and watches us close the door and goes to sleep. At bedtime, we read her fave books, she blows us kisses, signs that she loves us, we put her in her crib and she nods off after about 30 minutes of giggling or singing to herself. Music to our ears.

Since she started preschool 2 weeks ago, it's all been downhill. She doesn't want to nap. Worse, she has decided sleeping at night is for the weak and wants to know where the party is. Surely, she's kidding, right? This is all a silly joke of hers and she'll go back to her fabulous sleeping soundly through the night habits tomorrow?

I don't need much sleep. I don't ask for much. But I DO need some sleep. More than 2.5 hours of crappy sort-of sleep. There's not enough coffee in the world to make up for the horrible lack of sleep the past two weeks. Coffee IV? Hook me up, yo. I'm all for that invention.

Work to Play

2009-04-02T23:45:00.001-07:00

This week has been, well, um, hell. My faith in other people has been challenged. My confidence in my own abilities, waivered. My will and passion, beaten down and bruised. It's been a long week of long days (yesterday was a near 20-hr day). But I kept at it. I kept going. I worked my ass off as hard as I could so that I could sit here, at this moment, to write this post about the day that is to come in mere minutes: my baby girl's birthday.

Two years ago today, I met a new little love of my life who made my heart grow and ache even more all at the same time. She is my world, as my son is, and together they are the reasons I do what I do, at the odd hours that I do, in the untraditional ways that I do, with as much joy and passion as I do. I may be fiercely independent and seem career-driven, but I am not afraid to admit that I build my entire life around my kids. I used to think it was so weird when mothers said that they lived for their kids. I wondered "don't the have their own lives?" But I get it now. We do have our own lives...AND they are always a part of it. And it's beautiful and sweet and perfect in its glaring imperfections. It is certainly nothing to hide, and nothing to apologize for.

So I endured the shitstorms life decided to throw my way this week. I tried really hard to smile through them and many times failed in my attempts to sing and dance through the insanity of it all.

But I made it. I am here. I worked like mad this week so that I could breathe and fully focus on my daughter this weekend. This is Family Day and her official birthday. Saturday is her party. Sunday is the day I attempt to work off what I ate the two previous days and also the stress and weight of the week.

Today I celebrate the day my little girl came into my life and helped make the world come alive with her exuberance, her energy, her smile, her laugh, her sweet hugs and kisses, her incredible perception and her amazingly strong presence. Even as a baby she had this gentle authority that is a mix of sweet sensitivity and don't-make-me-kick-your-ass. So I'm going to let the birthday girl be the boss of me for the next 72 hours. I'm going to replace all the negative thoughts of annoying selfish people who made work absolute hell for me this week with positive thoughts in the present and not the past. I'm going to set aside those budget surprises that said annoying people have caused to my already negative budget and deal with them next week. I'm going to shake off the week with lots of family cooking, baking, eating, laughing, singing and dancing. And maybe even a whole lotta family time doin' nothin'.

I'm here. I'm present, and I'm ready to have a rockin' weekend with my family, who is my world, my happiness. And I'm going to do so starting.... now! Happy birthday sweet Baby Tickle!

Is Your Personal Blog Dead? SXSW Recap

2009-03-18T08:05:00.000-07:00

SXSW. WOW. Being back home after 5 days of traveling, stuffing our brains with new technology, debates about the future of design and interactive components, listening to some of our geek gods speak, meeting new people, exploring a bit of Austin, TX, and nights filled with way too many networking parties from which to choose...this mama needs a long nap!

Hubby and I are so thankful for the folks who attended our SXSW Core Conversation session

YOUR PERSONAL BLOG IS DEAD

Topic Overview: on Sunday at 3:30 entitled Your Personal Blog Is Dead. We love debating this topic amongst our geeky selves, so it was quite a welcome change to be able to bring in a myriad of other opinions and experiences to the discussion. Here's a quick recap for those who missed it.Technorati recently reported that out of 133 million identified blogs, 94% have gone dormant within the past year (dormant is defined as having no new postings in last 120 days). Of the 6% (7.4 million) that posted in last 120 days, only 1.5 million of those were updated within last 7 days. Of the top 100 blogs listed on Technorati, only one could be categorized as a "personal blog;" the remaining 99 consisted of business or news blogs..

On the contrary, there are approximately 5 million "active" Twitter users and 175 million "active" Facebook users as of March 2009, up from 150 million Facebook users just five weeks ago.

Question posed: With the increasing number of new social media applications, increasing number of social media users, and with the declining number of active personal blogs, is the personal blog dying a slow death?

We did our own survey, and found that 50% of those surveyed (all of whom had personal blogs and were also active social media users) began posting less on their personal blogs after they started becoming active in the micro-blogging community (Twitter, Facebook, Flickr, etc).

Some interesting observations from the audience:

Some noted that with Twitter and Facebook, they no longer felt they needed to blog since they already got the thought/emotion out of their system by tweeting or updating from their phones while out and about, and didn't feel compelled to blog further about specific instances once they got to a computer, whereas before they would have.
Others noted that they enjoy using social media micro-blogging tools for getting quick thoughts out to the public, and then using their blogs to expand upon the thoughts that they see relevant to their readers.
Many noted that they utilize social media tools to broadcast links to their blogs and have thus gained greater traffic to their blogs thanks to social media.
One audience member noted that Twitter was, in some ways, more effective than a feed reader for her, and another audience member chimed in and agreed that she probably misses out on reading some blog posts she normally would have read through her feed reader because the author didn’t tweet a link or included in a Facebook update.

When does a personal blog become a business blog? For me, prior to this session, I felt that a personal blog could no longer be categorized as such when the majority of the blog focused on topics related more to business than to personal matters, or when the blog became highly monetized in a way that you would be required to limit your personal voice due to advertiser constraints.

However, this part of the discussion brought out the fact that many of the blogs written by audience members were, in fact, hybrid blogs: part personal, part business. As the number of entrepreneurs and freelancers increase in America, and as our work/life boundaries blend more, the hybrid blog is on the rise. In our audience, there were photographers, food lovers, designers who all had blogs, but considered them to be personal blogs because even though they might get paid within those industries, they were still topics that were very personal to them. So is it conceivable that the Personal Blog has morphed into the Hybrid Blog? That in fact, the personal blog is not dead, but is simply evolving?

There were many other points of discussion broached during our session, but in the end, there is no right or wrong. We are at an interesting chapter in the Personal Blog’s history. I don’t think that Twitter, Facebook and the like will kill the Personal Blog, but social media tools have certainly forced personal blogs to adapt, evolve, and grow in order to maintain audiences and hold interest in this age of the 140 character attention span. I also believe that there are and will always be an audience for blogs that never reaches into the social media sphere—those who will never become comfortable with the fast pace, short attention span, and limited word count forced upon them my micro-blogging tools. Yet keep in mind that this particular session was focused on use of social media’s affect on Personal Blogs.

For those of you who have personal blogs and also use social media applications, what do you think? Is your personal blog alive and well and how has it changed with your own use of social media? Do you blog less or more than you did before you started using Twitter, Facebook, FriendFeed, etc.?

Why? Why? The Wonder of Wondering

2009-03-14T17:50:00.001-07:00

Wrote this post on 3.6.09 on my flight to New York for the Fishful Thinking symposium. Lost in the shuffle of a mad, mad week! :)

Alone with my thoughts. At freakin’ last. But you know what they say: be careful what you wish for. My inner dialogue for the first 20 minutes or so went a little something (ok, exactly) like this:

Ooh pretty mountains! What range is that? Rockies? Cascades? Boy I’m bad with geography. Look at that! What’s that river? I can’t believe that at one time this all was underwater. That’s crazy talk. I wonder how far up we are. Ooh look at THAT cloud formation! I wonder: do birds ever try to fly way up here? What happens: do they explode? (Start silently singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow). Why is it so flat down there now? How can people live where it’s so flat? Actually, how can people live away from an ocean? We need a beach house. The kids would love that. Where are we now? What on earth is THAT? Aliens? What time is it here? Why in the – hey, wait a minute. Who tooted? That most definitely was NOT me. What is it with planes and excessive tooting? Is it the air pressure? My hands are dry. Good thing I brought the Aquaphor. I love Aquaphor. I wonder…

And so on, and so on.

I wonder: when it is that we grow into adults who squelch this type of freeform thinking? Why is it adored in children (as in the phrase, “childlike wonder”) and yet frowned upon in adults? Why is it generally accepted that children will ask “Why? How? Why?” over and over again, but adults who constantly question are seen as nuisances?

I must admit: the above thought pattern? That’s my inner dialogue on a regular basis. Also: I wish this guy in front of me would STOP. FREAKIN. MOVING. HIS. SEAT. Back and forth, shifting all around, up and down. Good God, man, settle down!

Ok, where was I? Ah yes: wonder. I love it when my 4 year old asks questions. I especially love the Why questions. Because if you haven’t noticed, I personally enjoy asking them. A lot. I want to know why, don’t you? I love when my son asks me a Why question and I don’t know the answer. I love being challenged. Makes me hunt it down, figure it out. Also: makes me wonder Why too.

I hope my children never, ever lose their thirst for answers. When they are 15, 25, 45, 75… I hope they continue to ask questions and find wonder in the everyday norm.

UPDATE: On a related note, one of the take-aways I truly appreciated from my trip to New York for the Fishful Thinking Symposium was an activity which helps parents identify our own individual strengths as well as our children’s individual strengths (such as my son’s never-ending thirst for answers and curiosity about, well, everything in life), and how to work together as a family focusing on those strengths, understanding how they shape the different ways we approach life, and capitalizing on those strengths to bring out the positive in every day living. Learn more here.

Oh Mamas! Little Fish, Big Pond

2009-03-10T17:46:00.000-07:00

This past weekend was a whirlwind of activity in White Plains, NY as I left my little kidlets for the longest time I've ever been away from them to attend the Positive Parenting symposium held by Pepperidge Farms in conjunction with their Fishful Thinking program. I must admit, that in addition to being apprehensive about my time away from my kids, I was also a ball of excited nervousness to meet the other nine Faculty Moms who have been chosen from around the country to help other moms actively engage in positive parenting skills. I mean, I'm not a famous blogger, by any means (I almost peed my pants the one time I got more than 40 comments on this blog - oh the joy!). I own a couple of businesses, run a review site mainly for fun with fellow book lovers, write a few other blogs, and just happen to be addicted to social media because it helps me run my businesses and, well, ok, I'm pretty chatty.

The other nine Faculty Moms? AMAZING. Each one, a stellar mama in her own right. They write blogs, run blog communities, camps, businesses, and are rocksta r mamas to twins, one, two, or three kids. At dinner Saturday night, I learned we represent such a wide spectrum of values and beliefs, economic, educational and cultural backgrounds. Most importantly, I learned the other moms are all super sweet, fun, friendly, authentic and downright hilarious. I am astounded and still somewhat bewildered to be among their ranks. I feel like the little fish in a big pond, but hey, I'm stoked to be here.

Dr. Reivich, the brains behind the Fishful Thinking program and facilitator of this past weekend's symposium, has four children. And not only is she intelligent, a fantastic, engaging speaker, compassionate and kind, but damn does she looks incredibly well-rested for someone with four kids! I'm a mess with two! I like to attribute her healthy glow to the fact that it is so obvious she is doing something she loves, based on the happiness of people whom she loves (we saw slides of her kids during the presentation - adorable!), and s helping thousands of parents all over the country gain confidence in positive parenting skills.

Which brings me to the heart of the matter: the program. I have a lot to write about my take-aways from the symposium, so I'm not going to write it all in this post, but I will start with the fact that I sat there suddenly being asked questions that I hadn't thought to ask of myself as a parent. Sure, I try to be aware, conscious of my words, thoughts, actions, but I don't think I had ever felt challenged like this -- and I mean challenged in the best possible way. Every exercise hit home with me, to the point of where I was almost in tears thinking about my son, 3,000 miles away, and my memories with him during moments of challenging parenting. I started this blog when my son was just four months old; he is now 4.5 years old. I started writing because I was lost in this new mamahood, alone with so many questions and not enough answers, with so many fears and too many judgments, with unrealistic expectations and not enough support.

Since starting this blog, since starting my businesses, since making hundreds of new mama friends around the country over the years, I've felt supported, understood...and yet, the Fishful Thinking program, for me, takes that support and understanding a step further and offers proven effective tools, research-driven guidance to help me and my family truly understand one another and work together to become a stronger, more resilient family unit.

I did not anticipate the strong reaction I had to the symposium & my introduction to the Fishful Thinking program. I am still allowing it to sit with me, absorb it, wrap my head around it and sort it out. I'm excited to share what I've learned. But that will come in posts to follow. For now, I sleep (or attempt to. damn insomnia). Tons of work to do before heading to SXSW Interactive this weekend (longest trip ever away from my babies!!! BOO! But first trip away with the huz since baby was born - YAY!). More to come!

(PS-lest you think I got a little too serious & shit in this post for you, I'll have you know I had three huge glasses of red wine plus a Plum Collins last Sat night and ended up trying to find a show to go to in White Plains, NY by myself at 2 am, yo. PPS-there are no cool bands playing in White Plains, NY at 2am)

Leavin' On a Jet Plane

2009-03-05T17:41:00.000-08:00

Remember a few months back when I was just itching for a trip of my own? Just me and the ability to hear my own thoughts? My wish for a trip by myself has come true in a way I had never imagined. I love it when life is full of unexpected excitement! Tomorrow I'll be getting on a plane - by myself! No kids. No huz. Just me, my sleek new netbook, a paperback, and a couple of changes of clothes. Oh, and enough excitement to fly the plane on my pumped up adrenaline alone. You should all thank me for not writing this entire post in all capital letters, because really, people, I'm THAT stoked about what's to come this weekend.

This weekend I'll be joining nine other bloggers from around the country that have been asked to help the fine folks at Pepperidge Farm spread the word about their Fishful Thinking program. Developed by Dr. Karen Reivich, this program is designed to help parents and educators learn more about instilling optimism in our children's lives. Those who know me know this could not be more in sync with my own life philosophy, especially during these challenging times. I live for the positive, am an eternal idealistic optimist. Life is an amazing gift, and I truly believe that we have the power to harvest good thoughts that can change our lives. As a mom, I have witnessed the confidence and excitement in my children when we all work together in the positive realm, and I am looking forward to learning more activities that can help ensure my happy children grow into optimistic, positive, healthy adults.

When the PR firm Mr. Youth contacted me two weeks ago about the program, I was thrilled and intrigued. I had read all about the program and wanted to learn more. After an in-depth interview (during which I lobbed an obscene amount of questions and received thoughtful, quick answers), several follow-up emails and phone calls, I received a call last week that I was one of the 10 chosen to help represent the Fishful Thinking program. I am extremely honored and am still in shock. I have truly enjoyed getting to know the Mr. Youth executives, and can't wait to meet the other nine bloggers as well as the Pepperidge Farm folks, and Dr. Reivich.

So here I sit on the eve of my first trip without my family in over two years, with my almost 2-year-old jumping onto the pillow she keeps throwing on my head while laughing hysterically, with my 4.5 year old almost passed out on the couch next to me because he's so tired from a busy school week, and with my husband out on a dinner run since we feel like celebrating a little tonight (and also, not cooking :). I am a ball of nervous energy and massive excitement. I still need to pack. I need to sleep early tonight because we need to be up before sunrise.

Oh, and if you're flying from West to East tomorrow and a woman sits down next to you on the plane with the biggest you-know-what-eating grin you've ever seen, literally shaking from head to toe with excited energy, chatting you up, typing a bit too loudly on her netbook and offering you some almonds and maybe a scotch? That's me. Please smile back and say hello before you ask to change seats :)

I'll tweet, facebook and blog y'all again from NY!

The Quietest Game

2009-02-18T18:59:00.000-08:00

I live in a very loud house. I know, I am sure many of you do too as well. But seriously: we're all L-O-U-D. Even the dog is noisy. It's all fun being surrounded by such boisterous energy within the house; we can all go to our respective corners, rooms, shut doors, be separated by walls if need be.

But then there's the car. In the car, there is no escape. There is little room. Often it feels like there is little air.

Our once shy and quiet 4 year old Boo is now a non-stop talker. He doesn't stop talking for more than a few seconds, much less a whole minute. When he's not talking, he's singing. And yes, I love his singing to the moon, but sometimes, just once in a while, for a few seconds or even, dare I say, whole minutes, I enjoy something resembling silence.

And that's where The Quietest game comes in.

On one particularly L-O-U-D car ride, I challenged my non-stop talker to a duel of silent swords. "Let's see who can be the quietest for the longest amount of time!" I dared him. Ah, how his eyes lit up. I knew I had him. My son, while sensitive and giving and kind, is more competitive than a gambler in Vegas staring down the machine he could never win. My son likes to win, and he'll do what it takes to be #1. "What?!" he asked incredulously. "I bet I can be quieter than all of you!"

I smiled and nodded, then faced the road ahead. In silence. Even Baby Tickle played along; she knew what was up -- that, or she was totally amused at this strange new lack of sound in the car. And so we sat in silence. We did this for FOUR. WHOLE. MINUTES. My mind wasn't sure where to go with this ability to now hear my own thoughts and give them direction. In the end, Boo declared victory, but oh how the victory was truly mine.

And so now, when I am at wit's end after an insane day (more insane than the normal insane), and I need some peace and quiet but we're stuck in traffic and one kid is singing at the top of his lungs while the other is squealing in attempts to match her brother's loudness, I break out The Quietest Game. And as competitive as I may be, you can bet on this: I always let my kids win this game.

no reason, no warning

2009-02-12T22:16:00.000-08:00

there is something about life that drives me crazy sometimes: that it is not permanent. that in less than a blink, it is taken away. whoosh. gone. sitting here, reading the tweets, the news updates, watching the news. another plane crash. 49 more lives, taken. whoosh. gone. horrific images. bystander interviews. phone numbers for friends and family to call for more info. i watch and listen and wonder: how do they dial? how do they pick up the phone, punch in those numbers, and ask 'is the person i love alive?' it's a question i don't think i'd want to know the answer, because the mere act of asking it means chances are slim.

as a parent, i am energized by the life my children bring, and paralyzed with fear at the thought of something ever taking that away. i am so incredibly in love with life and this world and think it's damn amazing we are all here to love, to laugh, to give, to learn. but it pisses me off to no end that these things happen. i cannot watch the news. i cannot read the news. i cannot talk about anything like this with anyone. at all. anymore. i shake. i ache. i cry and cry and feel like a shit because why am i crying? i don't know those people. i don't live near there. i don't have any connections. but that's the thing, isn't it? we could have had connections. it could have been us. it might be one day. me, trying to pick up the phone and punch in those numbers to find out about you; you, picking up the phone to find out about me. we are all here. we are all connected. and it kills me to no fucking end that these horrible things keep happening. and what can we do? i need, need, need to DO, to help, to comfort or something i don't know, but i can't do anything to save those people. the ridiculous part inside of me wishes i could have. everytime.

in the secret life of bees, there is a character who held my heart: may. she was a little off. she held the world's sorrows in her heart. she had a wailing wall where she wrote on little pieces of paper when something happened that hurt her heart so much she couldn't bear it, so she wrote and stuffed the paper into this wall as an attempt to let it go, set the burden of the pain she felt free. i get it, may. i cannot hear about things like tonight's crash and go on with my night, life as usual. i can't do it. i can only sit and rock and cry. i feel helpless but desperately, fiercely want to help. but how? i sit and allow my thoughts to honor those lives and hope. hope that the surviving families allow themselves to feel the loss and grieve as they need to. hope that they will eventually in time see the light of love and laugh again. hope that this never happens again. to anyone. a girl can hope.

my thoughts, my heart, my whole life right now, goes out to the families and friends of those beautiful people lost tonight on Continental flight 3407. i know it's a long shot, but if any of you are reading this, please know i am hugging you fiercely tonight. i am with you. i am right there. and if you need me later, i'll be here. just tell me how i can help.

I can see clearly now the mess is gone...

2009-02-01T20:45:00.000-08:00

I am the first to admit: I've got a lot of issues. One being: I cannot work or really even start to think clearly if I am surrounded by a mess. It's as if I need to wipe the physical slate clean before my mental slate can start fresh and hit the ground running.

But here's the thing: I have two little kids who are constantly on the go and leave trails of random stuff all over the house. I have a dog that seriously sheds enough to knit at least a dozen baby sweaters...in a week. I have a husband who, bless his adorable laid-back soul, doesn't really seem to notice if things are out of place or, say, if there is trash on top of the kitchen countertop.

But I do--I see it all. Every last little bit. And when it gets a little too much, and I need to work or want to sit and read, it drives me batty. If I reach that point, my hubby knows: it's time for a massive clean up. If we don't, he knows what will happen: I will buzz around freaking out, grumbling, and then end up eating all of the chocolate or snacks in the house because I am freaking out. And that last part, my friends, is something that hubby does not want to happen.

So this morning, thanks to the help of my son and my sweet husband who puts up with my crazy anal-retentive uber organizing side, we did a big clean up. The toys are always the worst. Where does all this stuff come from? We put all of the toys in their respective bins, threw away itty bitty random parts, and dropped off a whole bag of toys to Goodwill. It felt SO good. We had an organized bin system before but this time I made labels with the names & pictures of contents to make it easier for my son to help out. He loved it!

I also cleaned up the pantry a little:

I also cleaned two of the bathrooms, including one nasty toilet (used mainly by the boys) and one very disgusting shower. I figure you don't need to see pics of either (you're welcome). Hubby managed the clean up of the puzzle drawers & shelves (trust me: that's a huge job at our house), vacuumed the upstairs, and cleaned out his old car (the latter being necessary since it's going back to the dealer this week).

And so, here I sit, able to breathe clearly again. Ready to write and work without messy distractions. And, as a bonus, the place is now clean for our morning playdate tomorrow.

Aaaaaahhhhh....

Poetry to Me: Hey Old Friend, Can I Crash on Your Couch?

2009-01-30T22:55:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time, I held pen to paper and symphonies played through my mind.

Long, long ago, words and I danced, laughed, mingled and frolicked aimlessly, instead of on deadline, with purpose.

Those days, things were different. I was different. It seems that, in at least some fashion, the old sayings are true: happy writers are poor writers. Writers without muse are reporters. (Ok fine, I just made those sayings up).

I put down my pen years ago. It all stopped. Almost cold turkey. Suddenly, Poetry moved to another universe and became that pen pal I always aspired to write to with great enthusiasm and exciting news of the day...but sooner than later, days became weeks, weeks became months, months became years, and... well, we all know that the more time that passes, the harder it is to write to that old friend. Yet it also mattered less, since poetry was a passion that suddenly became a memory that faded without feeling. How could I miss it when I hardly realized it was no longer there? Without reason, without warning, POOF! All gone.

Then just as suddenly, BAM! Hello, old friend! Poetry SLAMS down its suitcases on my doorstep, pressing the doorbell again and again, with the hyper enthusiasm of a child who finally, FINALLY is able to reach the doorbell without being lifted. I open the door barefoot, ready to point to my "No Soliciting" sign, to be silenced into a smile at the sight of Poetry's tattered and worn baggage marked with "Heavy" stickers on the sides, overflowing with years of experiences, knowledge gained and lost, emotions, and stories to tell... Oh the stories to tell! And could we please, pretty please, sit down and hash it all out and catch up over a cup of coffee or maybe a few thousand cups? Hmm?

Oh, Poetry. I welcome you, sweet childhood pal, back into my life. I relish seeing your old face (you haven't aged a bit, by the way, lucky fool!), touching the magic in the folds of your meanings, playing impishly in the fancied sunlight of your alliteration once again.

As a good friend, I haven't questioned why Poetry has returned after such a long, long absence. Perhaps it has committed crimes, broken hearts, healed wounds for countless others who appreciated it's beauty and relevance more so than I would have these past years. I welcome my oldest, dearest friend into this house with the most loving, crushing of hugs, promise to put on a cup of coffee, and shut the door quickly, before it realizes that perhaps I am not the most worthy of its friends to visit and tries to escape once again.

I am hoping this time, Poetry decides to stay. I care not where it's been, why it left, or what it's been doing all this time. I only care that it is here, for me to nurture and to completely lose myself to once again.

Falling In Love All Over Again...with The Kidlets

2009-01-10T23:05:00.000-08:00

There's something maddening about being stuck indoors for days on end with your kids in a snowstorm over the holidays. Something completely maddening and yet freeing and unbelievably beautiful all at the same time. Now that my family has settled into my son's first week back at school, my husband is back to his work routine, and I'm off and running with a new work/play schedule, I am glad that we had the time over the holidays to be free of rigid structure, constant obligation. I have always loved my two kidlets more than the moon, but something magical happened over the holidays: I fell in love with them all over again, as they are now and in the present. I saw them -- truly saw all of their lovely individual personality quirks and needs -- and just fell madly in love with them for being who they are. I would never change a single thing about either of them.

My kids have always had their own differing personalities. One has always been outgoing, constantly happy, fearless, and easy to adapt to new places, people and has had no problem ever breaking from routine. The other has always been cautious, skeptical, sound sensitive, anxious in social settings and whose happiness has been bound by exactness and routine. One loves to eat, the other doesn't. One had constant sleep issues from the very beginning, while the other quite enjoys naps and sleeping soundly through the night. Sure, they have many similarities --both love music, have a quirky sense of humor, and enjoy a good game of tag-- but as we all grow up together, I am trying my best to appreciate and nurture their individual needs at the same time. It can be challenging, since their needs often conflict with one another, but I'm really trying to listen to them more, to hear what their actions and cries are trying to tell me. And I'm trying to stop... stop whatever it is I am doing, stop always running, stop being in a hurry, stop doing and just being, so that ...

oh look! Neil Patrick Harris is hosting SNL tonight! Love him! Sadly, I am not his type. Ah well.

Anyway, where was I... ;-) See this is what mothering does. We do a million things at the same time, that our thoughts can't keep up. No wonder our kids think we're nuts -- we are! And I try, I really try not to let my mind be taken over my a million different thoughts and obligations when my kids need me. But the reality is, there are always a million different obligations that don't stop when our kids need us. What I am trying to remember is that I can't stop the obligations, but I can stop myself. I control the time I spend with my kids, and when I'm there, really there listening to their individual cries and needs, I not only fall in love with them all over again, but I'm allowing them to sort of fall in love again with me. Sure, I am their mother, but they are under no obligation to love me, and I don't take that for granted one second. I need to earn their love and respect too. In this respect, Carol Brady had it all wrong: I can't possibly love them all the same, because they are not the same. I need to love them as they each need and want to be loved, and only then can they begin to love and respect me back.

So that's what I've been trying to work on more and more each day: learning to nurture, love, respect and respond to my kids' very individual needs with all that I can give, fully in the moment. I can't say I am 100% successful at this, but man, this feeling of falling in love all over again with my kids? It's intense. It's addictive. It's the greatest high I've ever had (college friends need not comment on this please). And I will do anything to keep this mad love coming back in such a rush day in, day out.

Goodbye 2008

2008-12-31T08:41:00.000-08:00

As I write, I am sitting snug in my home office with my sweet white Lab Retriever sleeping at my feet. The whole house is asleep but me, which is quite normal and, in my opinion, quite wonderful. So here I sit, but here, I am not. Without closing my eyes, I am transported, with laptop, onto the shores of an Oregon beach. It matters not which one, as they are all equally amazing, all facing the same perfect ocean. I am here, in this place which forever holds my peace, almost every time I write in this blog. I can hear the gently rolling waves, taste the misty salt air, feel a slight shiver from ocean breezes as I wrap my blanket tighter around my shoulders. I can feel the sand caress my feet as if to gently exfoliate away the heaviness of the day, the subject matter of the post, the fact that I am not physically there but here, and yet there all at the same time.

In a few hours, it will be 2009. I've never been more ready for a new year to arrive than I am this year. I share with you my writing transport secret because this past year more than ever, I have had to mentally transport myself elsewhere in order to get any writing -or other work for that matter- done; the here and now has been too chaotic, too painful, too confusing, too insane.

Normally I would write a stupid little look back at the year but tonight instead I think I'll skip the mundane details and dig right into the hard stuff. The emotional stuff. The aspects of the year that hover above all actual specifics and bind the year together.

This is what I know from 2008:

1. My whole world collapses when I realize I have let someone down, not lived up to their expectations, or just not made them happy in some way; at least, that is what it feels like... my whole body aches, and I cannot think about anything else for a long time. My head knows that I cannot make everyone happy, but this year I have definitely learned that I still want to, and even though I have come to realize there are many, many people out there who will never be happy, who just need to complain or share or need to exert their self-imposed importance on others, my silly illogical side still attempts to appease. So here it is: this stops when the clock strikes midnight. I bid adieu to the 24/7 people-pleaser once and for all. 2009 will be the year I learn to say "Sorry, but this is how it's going to be." And I won't always follow up with my usual lengthy, near-apologetic explanations, but I will allow myself to follow up with a silent mental note of "you annoyingly selfish dipshit jackass" as I smile.

2. I have reached my limit. With work, activities, friends and family... with everything. My life is full and rich and I cannot add anymore ANYTHING. No more meetings. No more playdates. No more lunches and dinners and girls night outs. No more events and fundraisers and appearances for support. No more blogs and radio shows and articles. And yes, no more new businesses. No more, that is, than the regularly scheduled programming. I'm tapped out and barely able to fit in all of the wonderful people, passions and causes into these short days. I am reserving the first part of 2009 to fully engaging in everything and everyone already in my life. I love meeting new people, checking out new events, trying new things...but the "new" can wait until I feel I have fully loved and enveloped the "now" with everything I can give.

3. Nothing is certain. 2008 was most certainly the Year of Death, Divorce & Debt. What a horrible year for so many of my friends, my family, and for the world in general. What pain has been suffered... and so much, so suddenly. BAM! Hello, horrible happenings. Never saw most of them coming. I do a great job talking about how I live a life of no regrets, but let's face it: there are always things we wish we could have said or that we could have done, decisions we would or wouldn't have made. So here comes 2009 and I'm ready -- ready to walk the walk and truly say what's on my mind, all the time. Reach out to those I've missed in my life. Dismiss those who only add misery. Do the things I've always wanted to do but for which I've always made excuses. Tomorrow is not a promise; today is all we've got.

4. Goodness is everywhere, in everyone, within every moment... even amidst death, divorce and debt. As painful as this year has been throughout, life has also lifted my fingertips from shielding my eyes to let me know that it's ok: there really is peace, goodness, joy in the chaos. Strangers have become friends, friends have become my hope and happiness, and that happiness is what allows me to live into 2009 with a huge, goofy smile and a hop-skip in my silly step. No matter what, it will be ok. I know we'll all be ok. We survive the death of loved ones, cancer and other illnesses, tragic accidents, broken relationships, impossible finances, and slowing businesses... we survive it all, and we do it together. Goodness is always with us, prevailing over heartache, loss and complicated chaos. I know no matter what 2009 brings, it's ok. It's life. And it's all good, my friends... it's ALL good.

To anyone out there who may be reading this, thank you for reading my words in 2008 so that they have a home. I look forward to sharing more online (and some of you offline!) conversations with you all in 2009. Happy New Year!

The Magic of Santa

2008-12-24T19:31:00.000-08:00

I know it sounds a little silly for a 30-something woman to be saying this, but I believe in Santa. More than just the idea that the spirit of St. Nicholas lives on in each of us, I believe in the magic that Santa can bring. Maybe it's just the little girl still inside of me who didn't just want to enjoy the rewards Santa would bring from a year of being (somewhat, sort of, ok not really but I hear he was a forgiving man) nice, I was the odd little girl whose true wish was to be Santa. I longed for the magic he possessed to make millions of kids smile, to have his ability to change lives, to give hope for one day in the life of a family who might not have hope the remaining 364 days of the year.

And now, that strange little girl finally gets her wish. This year, I AM Santa Claus.

My son is 4.5 years old. Until tonight, I was sure he didn't believe. Each year, I would talk about Santa. We would attempt to visit Santa at the mall, I'd make cookies, we'd ask him what he wanted to ask for Christmas from Santa. Even this year, at any mention of Santa, my son would look at us cautiously with a sideways glance and half heartedly seem to play along with his parents' pathetic attempts to make him believe. Then something happened tonight. Something magical. Santa finally became real, to all of us.

For fun (my own almost more than my son's, as I had almost given up on him believing in Santa), I decided to see where Santa was on the Norad Santa Tracker. My son sat next to me, and as I showed him the map with all of the present icons across Europe, as we watched the videos of Santa in Egypt, Paris, Madagascar and Russia (all places that my son is absolutely obsessed with), my son started talking with rich excitement and enthusiasm, for the first time, about Santa coming to visit our house. We talked about his letter to Santa, about leaving the cookies I was baking on a tray for Santa to thank him for his long journey. My son was amazed. "I can't believe the reindeer pulled Santa all that way!" "WOW - look at Santa! I saw the great pyramids!" "Look at Santa in Russia - that's where the firebirds are!" and so on. And that was it. My son, ever the creative sensitive soul, just needed a visual. And those visuals were like 10 pounds of sugar being pumped through my son's veins in less than 3 minutes. He was hyper beyond hyper the rest of the night.

After his bath, I happened to glance at the TV and saw Santa. "Hey Boo! It's Santa!" I shouted. Pound, pound, pound he came flying down the stairs totally naked. "IS HE HERE?!!!?" He shouted, his voice bubbling with hope. I explained he would probably be here while we were sleeping, which, according to Santa Tracker actually worked out to be true (my son's logic would have sniffed it out immediately had the travel time on the website not worked out accordingly).

So Boo wrote his note to Santa. Or rather, he dictated and my husband wrote, since my son was too busy bouncing off the walls and furniture to stay still long enough to write. He wouldn't stop talking about Santa. About Christmas. About Santa some more.

And there, in the crazy mad span of less than 2 hours of hyper bouncing (literally, he was bouncing) and nonstop louder-than-normal-loud chatter, I became Santa.

Tonight, and I'm guessing through tomorrow, I get to be the one who gives my son undeniable joy. More than the present he has asked for, I know my son is excited about Santa, the magic of Santa, the idea that there is a person who brings joy to little girls and boys all over this amazing earth. And I get to be the one to bring this magic to him. It is all I honestly could ever ask for this Christmas, or any other day of the year.

Thank you, Santa. Thank you for letting me share in your magic.

(And to all my fellow Santa mamas and papas out there, Merry Christmas to you and your little ones. May you all be surrounded by love, and may your holidays be filled with the magic of the season. May you, too, have a Santa in your life who brings you unbelievable hope, love, inspiration, and enough joy to make you bounce off the walls grinning ear-to-ear. You all deserve it, and I wish you a happy year ahead!)

double the...fun?

2008-12-15T14:34:00.000-08:00

I am so grateful to have amazing friends who had children before me, who could offer their wise advice to the overanxious first-time mom that I was. And yet, now that I have two kids, I want to yell at some of those very same mama friends, those who had their second or even third child before I had my second, the ones who told me when I was pregnant with our second child that having two was "different." No, my dears, it's not "different." I think the words you were searching for were "hard," "insane," and "may drive you both to drink heavily." Looking back, I honestly don't know what I was bitching and moaning about when we just had one child. All of those hours lost worrying about sleep (or lack thereof), about every little morsel that he ate, about development and milestones and blah blah blah. What a waste of time. I should have just instead enjoyed how EASY that time really was, back when it was just me, hubby, dog and son. Oh how easily we fell prey to all of the unnecessary and ridiculous first-child worries and woes. Oh how we thought everything was so damn difficult then. And I'm sure, at the time, it was. Our son had a tumultuous first two years of life, and we were first time parents: of course it was hard.

But here we are now, with a son who is 4.5 and a daughter who is 20 months old (yikes! how'd that happen?!), and now we know better. On many levels, we're wiser, which makes it all the more annoying sometimes. Two kids isn't double the work, it's 10 times the work. And that is something no one told me until RIGHT AFTER I gave birth a second joyous time and the madness truly began. Before two kids, it was all "oh you'll love having both a girl and a boy!" "Oh, it's so great to have two and watch them grow up together!" "Oh it's so much easier the second time around!" Yes, those words are all true. HOWEVER, they all failed to mention we would probably never have a "relaxing" night or weekend ever again, our shoulders will ache even more than ever before from double the constant lifting, we'll be spending WAY more time cleaning up than ever imagined because of double the toys, clothes, junk, food & other odd object smearings all over the place, and that never again will we want to set foot in a grocery store or any other store because taking two kids into a store? IT IS HEEELLLLLLLL. Nobody mentioned any of that. Nobody mentioned that even at such early ages would the two have drastically different schedules that we'd be running around like mad more than before. Nobody mentioned the inevitable constant screaming that would happen with two kids who both want the same thing at the same time...All. Day. Long.

Thanks, friends. Thanks for no warning!

But then... as crazy as it is, there is no other way I would have it. You knew the cheesy part was coming, right? Well here it is. Just as those with one child or three or four couldn't imagine their lives any differently, neither could we. Our house is louder and our schedules are busier, and we're always tired and sometimes in physical pain, but it's almost this perfect imperfection that makes us so very happy and fulfilled. We love that our kids will grow up with each other, having each other for support in difficult times as they get older, to grow up together and get in trouble together and lie for each other or tell on each other. We love that they'll be siblings, friends, confidants, enemies, cheerleaders all at the same time and in different ways throughout their lives. We love watching them now. Their bond grows everyday, and it's so amazing... of course they fight and scream and are pretty violent with each other sometimes, but they also make each other laugh like nobody else can, they hug and kiss, and they hold hands. It's so freakin' adorable I can't stand it! These two perfectly flawed little beings are the best parts of my life, and even though having two can be physically, emotionally and mentally draining, it's also the most exhilarating, soul-filling part of my life.

I do, however, wish that moms would be more open about how much harder it is to have two than to have one. Damn you all for your silence. Hmph.

Danke Schoen Day

2008-11-26T08:10:00.001-08:00

Ah, Thanksgiving. The official start of the big winter holiday season. The beginning of the friends & family end-of-year extravaganza. The day we take a moment to pause, give thanks, and eat way too much food. I train all year long to gear my stomach & metabolism up for the holiday feasts to come. This year, I feel prepared. Bring on the food!

Of course, I am thankful for the ability to have such a bountiful feast each year, and to be blessed with such amazing friends and family. Here is a list of just a few key items I will be giving thanks to this year:

coffee and my coffee makers that work tirelessly each morning without fail
the ability to hear my kids singing all day and night
surprise snuggles from my 4 yo son, whom I sometimes fear will one day soon say "no more snuggles mama!"
sloppy kisses from my 19 month old daughter
my husband's unconditional love & support
my kids, for their spirit, hope, unconditional love, and inspiration
incredible girlfriends
living close to my brother and his family so our kids can grow up together, just like me and my cousins did
my crazy parents
my mom's new love of texting. it makes me smile.
my office & new office mate. may she never tire of my crazy kids playing in the office sassmouthing me while she works.
President-Elect Obama and his beautiful family. thank you, America.
American voters, for reinstating my faith in the intelligence & compassion of the people
authors, for their talent & ability to transport me to new worlds and open my eyes to experiences I may never have
the incredible doctors and scientists committed to stem cell research. keep on keeping on, good people.
Facebook, you clever dog you, for reconnecting me with friends & family all over the globe and from lives past
Twitter, you cunning conversationalist you, for connecting me with new friends all over the globe
the makers of fine chocolate everywhere
vintners, for bringing the beauty of fine wine to the comfort of my living room
local business owners, for their passion, creativity and perseverance during a tough economy
my MIL, FIL, BILs and SILs, for being the coolest group of in-laws ever
Etsy artists, for bringing handcrafted beauty and delight to the world
did I mention chocolate already?
all the amazing people who make beautiful music that fills my soul
cozy jammies
bacon. I am sorry little piggies, but I do love meat candy so.
my workhorse KitchenAid mixer and food processor
online photo galleries
our Lab Retriever/Husky, even though he's getting cranky in his old age
my son's teachers, for the care and love and learning they bring to my son's days
all the new babies in our lives, and those new babies to come in the next year. we're so excited!
the beautiful beaches of the Oregon coast
Portland, this gorgeous city that keeps on giving
kind strangers who return smiles and especially those who offer an exchange of kind words on drizzly days
the opportunity to live my days with the most incredible kidlets in the world

And thanks to all of you, for reading my words and allowing me to know that sometimes, even just for a moment, they might matter to someone else in the world :)

May you all enjoy a lovely, hearty, laughter-filled Thanksgiving surrounded by friends & family. I am with you all in spirit! Now, bring on the turkey!

It Takes A Village to Raise a Marriage

2008-11-18T01:04:00.000-08:00

Me & hubby in Zurich, 1999...you know, when we were young.

Fifteen years ago today, the morning of November 18, 1993, a relationship was born into a village that has grown into an amazing community of friends, strangers, family, kids. In the beginning there were people like Matt, Jen, Bill, Cindy, Julie, Fred, Ian, Dave, Whitney, Andrea (A1). Throughout the years people like Andrea (A2), Amy, Heather, Kelly, Graham, Jim, and Scott moved in. And then there were more. Families combined, strangers became friends, friends became partners, co-workers became confidants, and all became our family whom we love fiercely. The village keeps growing, and as it grows, our relationship gets stronger.

Today is the 15th anniversary of my relationship with my husband, whom we'll call Cha Cha. It is not our wedding anniversary, but rather the anniversary of when our lives first started together. Don't get me wrong: I loved our wedding! It was a fantastic weekend full of fist fights, a night in the ER, and wedding crashers in Hawaiian shirts who bought us shots. There was laughter, dancing, many a long rambling toast, and lots of love all around. But that is not when our story started. To only celebrate the day we got married is an insult to our relationship. To discount the 8 years prior to being husband and wife is to dismiss the sweetest and hardest journey. And so I like to celebrate this anniversary which, in truth, is the anniversary of not just me and Cha Cha, but of me and him... and all of the lovely people who have seen us through all of the highs and lows.

I love, adore, cherish my husband. He is crazy fun and brilliant. He knows more about everything than I can ever imagine to know, and I still don't know how he can remember the names of all the random generals in this war or that (and yet somehow forget weekend plans I had told him about three times...but that's for another post!). He is a witty, talented smart ass who makes me laugh every day. He is amazingly sweet, silly and absolutely over-the-moon in love with our kids. And incredibly, he loves me. Still. He supports my many crazy ideas and causes, puts up with my constant singing, dancing and general loud silliness, and appreciates my weird quirks and annoying habits. He believed in us, when I didn't. And through it all, our friends and family believed.

We love each other to the moon and back, but our relationship is truly strengthened by the other people in our lives whom we love beyond words. We owe so much of our relationship to our parents, our siblings and their spouses (I just want to take this time to shout I LOVE MY IN-LAWS!! Totally lucked out with how awesome they all are). We owe our cousins, co-workers and dear life-long friends. Our memories of our relationship are nothing without all of them. The people who not only helped raise our marriage, but are also now helping to raise our kids. The fact that our kids will grow up knowing so much love, never having a reason to doubt they are supported, and being able to grow up with the strength of such a community...it is all we as parents could ask for.

So on this anniversary of the beginning of our relationship, I take the time to thank those who have been there from the beginning, those who have joined our lives in recent years, and those who have just entered or re-entered our circle. If our marriage will always be as strong as our foundation of friends and family, then we surely will have many more anniversaries to celebrate.

PS. And Cha Cha, if you're reading this, which you probably aren't because you got bored with my rambling after the second paragraph and it's all the same blah blah blah you hear from my nonstop chatter... I love you, man. Here's to another 15. Holy shit we'll really be old by then.

this is my time

2008-11-16T01:31:00.000-08:00

it's 1:12 am on another saturday night. the house is asleep save a little light in the living room, the television with another random sappy movie (tonight it's the lake house). oh, and me. wide awake. giddy with the anticipation of life that is to come tomorrow, the next day, the next week, the next month.

i love my sleep, but i love my awake life more than my asleep life. i've never needed much sleep, but after having kids, need much more. yet i rarely get a full 6 or 7 hours, and i can't even blame the kids. the kids are great sleepers (took my son a while --very rough first two years, oy vey --but he's there now).

sometimes it's insomnia. i really want to sleep but i just can't. and the harder i try, the more awake i am.

but sometimes it's this. what i feel tonight. this comfy cozy bliss of being wrapped up in a blanket on the couch in the semi-dark of our living room, alone with my thoughts. i love this. as parents, as business owners, as people who like to do things and have to do a lot of things, sleep can be easy to come by, but how much harder it seems to achieve this: the solitude, the peace of being surrounded by this lovely life and the time to actually sit back and soak it in. to reflect. to remember. to love and enjoy it fully with every molecule of my body and every particle of my soul.

i relish this. sometimes i will sit with the cheesy movie of the night on in the background for just a few minutes, sometimes for a few hours, but during these near-silent early morning moments time stands still. life pauses, and smiles. the voices that peck at me during the day, the obligations that tug at my sleeve -- all fall silent as they oh so kindly take a seat beside me and wait patiently for me to start the clock again. its as if they understand. they know i will be there for them in the morning. but this time, this place, this moment... this, is for me.

YES WE DID!

2008-11-04T18:45:00.000-08:00

I am writing this at 6:45 pm PST. Less than half of the states are called in the historic presidential race between Senators Barack Obama and John McCain. I know many will write their posts tomorrow, post-election, but I can't wait. I have to write this NOW. Regardless of the outcome, regardless of who becomes President of this amazing country of ours that I love dearly, what has happened throughout the course of this election has been monumental beyond words.

An African-American man is *this* close to being President. In less than 12 hours he may well be. A woman is on the ticket as the Vice Presidential hopeful. Although I believe strongly she is an absolute insult to womankind, she is still a woman, a mom, nonetheless. And there are all of you. The voters. Turning out in record numbers. MORE than Barack Obama. MORE than Sarah Palin, there is YOU. And it is honestly all of YOU that are the cause of my tears tonight.

And yes, I am now officially a blubbering fool. {Pausing to wipe my glasses so I can see what I am typing. }

What I have seen over the course of this stressful, sometimes hateful, sometimes ridiculous campaign is the beauty of the human spirit rise where so many feared it had left. I've seen strength and courage to find one's voice when many had thought there would be silence. What I've seen - and am seeing tonight - is pride in the power of a single American's ability to VOTE. To say "THIS is what I believe in, and HELL YES I WILL MAKE IT KNOWN." You not only voted in record numbers, but you volunteered in droves! You went door-to-door, made calls, held fundraisers.

And if you didn't volunteer or donate money, you still TALKED about the issues. You talked about healthcare, education, taxes, international relations. Yes, you also talked about wardrobes and rumors and religion. But what matters to me is that there were conversations that happened between people who perhaps never before raised their voices on such matters. And, to that end, never put as much thought into them as they did these past few months. I've loved, relished, ADORED every single conversation I have been so lucky to be part of, with Democrats, Republicans and Independednts. The fact that we are talking, people, is monumental. It means that Americans really do care about what happens to this country, for our children and grandchildren. For our neighbors, and not just ourselves.

Regardless of how you voted, you did it. WE DID IT. Together, we are showing the world who we are as Americans: people of hope, courage, and spirit. Regardless of who is President tomorrow, I hope every American that voted wakes up truly proud of his/her contribution.

As I type this in my home office, I hear my 4 year old son and my husband chatting away while my daughter babbles and colors. They're watching the returns on CNN and MSNBC. My son is coloring a blank map of the United States either blue or red as the projections are called. He may not understand what those colors represent, but he knows there is something big happening tonight. Bigger than him, bigger than all of us. I look forward to telling him the story of this night, of everything that has happened and what it means for him and his sister. I look forward to telling him, with tears in my eyes and a fully, happy heart, how his fellow countrymen and women pulled together and helped make history. And we were all here to experience it.

Saturday Nights

2008-11-01T20:57:00.000-07:00

Here we are, hubby and I. Another Saturday night. Both kids tucked into sweet slumber. Dog at our feet. Glass of something red for each of us. He on his Mac, I on my PC. Sitting next to each other, surfing, typing, working, playing, conversing away on our laptops while the television flips between a random Food Network or HGTV show, CNN, MSNBC, and some silly movie on HBO that doesn't demand our full attention. It is near silent except for the murmur of the television and the very loud, hard click-clack-tap-tap-pounding of my typing (the reason behind missing two keys and most of the letters being worn off on my poor battered keyboard).

Here we sit. Side by side. On another Saturday night.

I wonder: good god, how lame are we? Sure, we're tired. Saturdays are full of kid activities, their demands, schlepping the whole family back and forth, to and fro, running errands, seeing friends, making the kids happy. Every couple with two kids or more has Saturday nights like this, right? RIGHT?!

*Sigh*

We do go out some Saturday nights. To parties, movies, dinners, events. But not nearly as often as before. This, I know, is normal. Right? RIGHT?!

But here is what worries me, the part that I fear is not normal: this is what I would rather be doing most Saturday nights. What the f*ck?! Did I just say that? Why yes, that was old lame lazy Mom speaking. I enjoy sitting here, chatting online with pals hundreds sometimes thousands of miles away, catching up. Hubby and I are so geeky that sometimes we'll sit here and send Facebook chat messages to each other. Sometimes, we'll share super geeky designy stuff we find online with each other. Oh the romance! The excitement! All while we are sitting less than 2 feet away from each other. I joke, but I think it's kind of sweet. And truthfully? By the time the kids are in bed, I want nothing more than to be in my jammies, take out my contacts, and sit on my butt doing nothing of major importance and nothing that requires me to be social face-to-face.

So there it is: I am lame, and I'm ok with it. Now I'm going to drink my wine, search for some bon bons, and make fun of Larry King and debate politics with the hubster until SNL comes on. I know you are all jealous of our wild weekend night life. Go get yer own!

My Wordle

2008-10-21T21:28:00.001-07:00

I'm late to the game, as usual. It takes a while for trends to sink in with me. I have to assess and reassess and evaluate their worth in my life before jumping in. But for god's sake, it's just words, so here, at long last, about 2 years after everyone else in the blogosphere introduced their Wordles, is my silly Wordle, courtesy of http://www.wordle.net.

A Non-Recipe:Tri-Pepper Turkey Pasta

2008-10-12T21:53:00.000-07:00

I tweet on my personal Twitter account about making my tri-pepper turkey pasta a lot because, well, we make it at least twice a month. It's easy, fast, healthy, inexpensive, reheats well for lunch leftovers and is, quite frankly, damn good. I've had requests for the recipe, but here's the deal with my cooking: there are no recipes. I have a whole kitchen cabinet with three shelves devoted to cookbooks, but my philosophy is that recipes are to be used as inspiration and not as absolutes. If there is an ingredient or two or three that I don't like in a recipe, I will still try it, but with my own preferred substitutions.

So with that in mind, here is my non-recipe recipe for one of our family's staples. This makes enough for my husband and me, our two kids, one hungry dinner guest, and lunch leftovers for all. Try it if you want, with your own substitutions and whatnot, and let me know what you think!

TRI-PEPPER TURKEY PASTA
Ingredients:
2 Tbs olive oil plus more for sauce if necessary
1/2 cup or so sliced onion
minced garlic
1.5 - 2 sliced red bell peppers
1-1.5 sliced orange bell pepper(s)
1 sliced yellow bell pepper
half & half if necessary/if you want to make the sauce creamy
1 package lean ground turkey
basil - either dried or fresh chopped
pasta - we prefer a corkscrew pasta such as rotini or fusili
salt & pepper
finely chopped parsley
grated romano or parmesan cheese (optional, but really makes the flavors pop if you add romano)

GUIDELINES (NOT DIRECTIONS!):
1. Boil enough water to cook your pasta. How much pasta? You decide. We usually do 1/2 a pound up to a whole pound depending on if we have a dinner guest or not.

2. In a large skillet, heat olive oil. Do a little dance, because the people who make olive oil deserve it.

3. Add sliced onions and peppers and minced garlic (see pic below). Saute until slightly tender but still crisp. You don't want to saute them too much or they won't puree as well in the food processor. PORTION NOTE: the more peppers you use, the heartier the sauce, so really, use however much you see fit. We usually stick to 1 to 1.5 of each type of pepper, with more of the red pepper than the orange and yellow, but if you want a sweeter sauce, go with more yellow or orange pepper. Just be aware of the shift in flavor and texture of sauce based on your portions of peppers.

4. When peppers are just tender enough, set peppers, onions and garlic mix into a food processor to cool for a bit. Make sure you've got a medium-sized food processor and not one of those rinky dink ones or you'll be cleaning up a big mess.

5. Sprinkle your dried basil or your finely chopped fresh basil on top of the pepper mix. Just be sure to use less if you are using dried basil since the taste of dried herbs is sharper than fresh. But then again, if you don't like basil, skip it. This is also good with thyme or sage, but I'd use those sparingly since they are both very strong herbs with distinct flavors that can overpower the peppers.

6. Meanwhile, your water should be boiling. What are you waiting for? Put the pasta in already.

7. Also while pepper mix is cooling a bit, go ahead and start to brown the ground turkey in the same skillet you used. You could brown the meat first and then the peppers, but I like cooking the peppers first because then the meat soaks up the pepper/onion/garlic taste from any remaining olive oil as it cooks.

8. While meat browns, go ahead and process the pepper mixture in the food processor. Now I sometimes add more olive oil and/or half & half in this step, depending on if we want the sauce to be saucier or thicker. Use your preference as your guide. Who am I to tell you what to do? Oh right, I'm writing the recipe. But I did warn you it's a non-recipe. Anywhoo... this is what it should look like when the mix is processed enough:

9. Add the pepper mix to the ground turkey as soon as the turkey is cooked enough. If you don't know how to tell if ground turkey is cooked enough, I can't help you. You shouldn't be cooking. But I can show you what the whole mixture should look like:

10. Stir the pepper mixture and the ground turkey until the pepper mixture is distributed evenly throughout.

11. The pasta should be done by now. Drain pasta water and add cooked pasta to the ground turkey pepper mixture.

12. Add salt & pepper to taste, plus fresh parsley and/or grated romano cheese and voila! You get something that should look like this:

I know, you're not supposed to serve food on blue plates because it makes the food less appetizing, but it takes a lot more than color theory to make food less appetizing to me, so those food critics can suck it. I think food looks great on blue plates and these Pottery Barn pasta bowls have lasted 7+ years, since we got them as wedding gifts.

So there you go. I told some of you who requested this recipe that I don't write recipes. If you make this and it sucks, don't blame me! Must be something you did. :) But really, there are many variations to this dish. Here are a few:

*substitute lean ground turkey for italian sausage
*substitute orange and yellow peppers for all red peppers
*substitute basil for the herb(s) of your choice
*substitute fusili or rotini for linguini, fettucine or penne...just not shells or ditalini or other small pasta shape
*substitute parmesan cheese for romano cheese
*add ricotta cheese to the mix of ground turkey and peppers, add cooked pasta, place into a baking dish, sprinkle with generous amounts of mozarella cheese, and bake in 375 degree oven until set for a super tasty baked pasta dish.

A Year of Death & Divorce

2008-10-08T08:31:00.000-07:00

Death and I do not get along. It mocks me, and I curse and spit at it. But then, I turn around, and go back to the mechanics of my daily life. I've become an expert in denial.

I'm bad at dealing with death. Very bad. It angers me to think about losing someone, anyone, I've ever come into contact with. I get addicted to people, and even if they've only been in my life briefly, I am still easily overwhelmed by their loss. If you and I meet on a train and have an amazing 10 minute conversation, rest assured that 15 years later I will remember you, your face, and I will want to hang out with you and listen to the story of your life for the last 15 years if ever we meet again. You'll probably wonder "dude, who's this creepy lady who remembers a 10-minute conversation on a train from 15 years ago?" and sometimes I am annoyed by how attached I get to, well, everyone, but I've learned to live with this quirk of mine and just go with it. We only have one life, so shouldn't we cherish all of the people we are fortunate to meet?

Now my uncle R (who is also my godfather) is going off life support as I write this. I'm pretty sure some of my family members think I'm crazy. "What's wrong with her? She hasn't seen him in years!" No, I haven't seen him in years. I haven't made any effort, whatsoever. I'm a douchebag for not spending more time with my extended family. I got the news via email in my office, and there I sat, in full pathetic glory, bawling alone while listening to the rain. I remember the time we did spend together. I remember things in frames that aren't quite all in order, but the scents, the lighting, the colors, the laughs, the distinct voices... they are all there quite clearly. I remember him, and it pisses me off that I am losing him, that his kids are losing their father.

Why am I such a fountain this year? When my lola died, I got emails starting with "I know you aren't normally emotional, but if you need me..." and my personal favorite "I know you don't do the whole tears thing..." I distinctly remember these because for some reason I got all defensive. "I do so cry sometimes!" I would retort, but alas, they're right: I have not been so big on the crying thing for most of my adult life. Other people crying, I can deal with. Me crying? I don't think so.

But then this year has changed all that. 2008 has been the year of death and divorce. All around me, I have watched friends and family lose parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, children, spouses... I have one friend who lost both parents within a month. Within one year, I have watched even more friends deal with ailing family members, and more than ever before, I am surrounded by friends dealing with divorce, which more than a few of them have equated as dealing with a death. It's the death of part of your life, saying goodbye to a person who was your life and trying to fit into a new one. Except with divorce you get the whole rebirth thing, and with death you're, well, done. So much sadness, so many goodbyes, so much pain and questioning and guilt. So. Fucking. Much. Can the year please just let up a little? Jeebus! Enough with the drama! It's bad enough that the economy has tanked, our earth is dying, and that they don't make the chocolate covered Kudos bars anymore... can we at least ease up on the death of loves ones?

I'm at the age where there are certainly more possibilities for grave illnesses. The word cancer is as common among friends these days as the term keg party was for us not so long ago (ok, maybe it was long ago, but humor this old hag). I had my own scare less than a year ago, and even though everything turned out fine, there was still that "oh holy shit, I really could die sooner than later"that is more of a possibility now more than ever, especially when you're undergoing procedures you'd always imagined you wouldn't ever have to undergo until you were older. Suddenly, ta-da! You're old enough, and you wonder how the hell you got there so fast. Our parents are aging. Our circle of friends is wider. There are many, many reasons why there's more death & divorce in my life these days. None of them make me feel any better.

So I'm trying to figure it all out, while also trying to figure out how to explain these things to my kids. My son is at the age where he truly wants answers and quite frankly, mommy doesn't have any. I don't believe in bullshitting him, and we don't conform to any religion so those convenient "heaven" answers don't fly in our house, but I also don't want to leave him with more questions. So I try to focus on the now, and talk about how there are so many things we can do today, to teach him how to live a life without regret, to live so that at the end of each day he can be proud of who he is at that exact moment and all he has done up until then. But those aren't answers. Those are delays. Why do we die? I don't know. It makes me mad that we do. It pisses me off that today I'm losing someone who once opened up his home to me and my family, who made a ginormous Filipino feast for more than 20 of us, who had a great smile and laugh in my memories, whom I didn't get to see on a regular basis, and who is leaving behind a wife, kids and grandkids who love him very much. More and more, we're losing each other. I'm putting the year of death & divorce in a big time out for now, until it can learn to calm down a bit.

Pandora's Box

2008-10-03T21:57:00.000-07:00

Sometimes when you go searching for one thing, you end up uncovering something totally unexpected. I've been trying to find my black sandals for a couple of weeks now. I was all bummed when we went to the beach for a friend's wedding and discovered that I hadn't packed them. I just had my wedding shoes, spare heels "just in case" (for what? who needs heels at the beach ever?!) and my running shoes. No sandals. I figured I just left them at home. Well it's been two weeks now and I still can't find them. So I was searching upstairs in our closet, in storage areas I haven't touched in a while but that are accessible by my kids who have a habit of sometimes storing important items in the most random of places. They're just adorable like that.

So then I uncovered a box. A box I hadn't opened in probably 10 years, much less even remembered existed. I thought it was just an old box and I started to break it down for recycling when I realized it had contents. Naturally, I opened the box.

HOLY PANDORA, BATMAN.

It's a good thing I had a glass of wine waiting for me in the living room. Never open these kinds of boxes without knowing what's in them, my friends. But then, after the initial horror, it wasn't all scary.

I uncovered photos of me and my family when I was a baby. Who knew I had these in my possession? Want to know what my daughter looks like? Here ya go. Except these are pics of chubby little me as a baby. The resemblance is super freaky. So sorry, dear baby girl, you're gonna look just like mama when you grow up. But look how cute we are as babies!

The photos were so great to discover. There were photos of me and my cousins as little kids, photos of me and my great-grandmother who passed away 1.5 years ago, photos of uncles and aunts and friends. There were middle school and high school wallet-size photos with the typical "stay cool this summer" signed by the BFF of the month. There were more photos. Then as I stripped away the layers of photos I uncovered the notes. I distinctly remember going through boxes and boxes of notes I had saved from middle and high school when I went to college and trashing them. Apparently, I saved some. ML, if you're reading this, I think there are some from you in there, girlfriend! And my poetry books. Holy cow, I wrote enough poems to fill several manilla file folders and at least a dozen spiral-bound notebooks. I read some of them. A few were ok. Then underneath the letters and notes were...things. gum wrappers friends had written on. Empty boxes that once held...what? Gifts? Smokes? Sugar packets friends had written on. Cards and stickers. And in the middle of it all, a letter I had placed in a box written January 15, 1994 and never sent.

I am rattled and a bit amused by all this because this is not what I know now. Back then, I apparently saved everything. Now, I save almost nothing. Photos, yes, but things? Even with my kids' baby items, I'm just not that sentimental about them. I even had to talk myself into holding onto their first baby clothes, for sentimental value, but the logical part of me just sees it all as stuff taking up room. I feel the same way about my kids' artwork (bad mama, I know, but really: what will a half-colored page of a fireman drawing mean to my kid in the future?). My life is about people and memories, not things.

And yet, I sat there, surrounded by Pandora's beautiful and sometimes painful insides, thinking that maybe it's not such a bad idea to save some things. To understand who we are now, we sometimes have to look back at who we were. I admit that some of these seemingly random, unimportant odds and ends in the box slowly started to take shape and importance in my head. I eventually remembered. I got it. I smiled. I put the things, including the gum wrappers, back in the box, closed the lid, and placed it back in its space. At least I know it's there now. It can't assault me unexpectedly on a lovely Friday night again.

So for my kids, I think I will start to save more for them from now on. Who am I to decide what is or is going to be important to them later in life? When they are grown, they can make those decisions of what to toss and what to keep.

I didn't realize I had a Pandora's box, but I think it found me when I was finally ready to find it. Do you have a Pandora's box? If so, what's in it? What do you save and what do you keep, of both your kids items and your own personal items?

Oh, and by the way? Still haven't found my black sandals.

My Solo Vaca

2008-09-28T18:50:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I wish I could shut off all the voices around me. The emails. The Twitter tweets. The Blog comments. The Facebook updates. The LinkedIn requests. The voicemails (which I don't listen to anyway, so really people just need to stop calling). Even the kids. The friends and family. The dog. By their nature, my businesses all force me to be very social, which can be a great thing because I get such a happiness high from meeting new people, learning more about their lives, hearing their amazing goals, aspirations and life philosophies. I LOVE hanging out with other people, whether one-on-one or in large groups.

Yet there comes a time when my brain says "too much noise!" and essentially starts shutting down. Usually it's when life is crazier than normal on all fronts and my body, my heart, my spirit need for me to step away from the madness and recharge. So much is happening right now, so many decisions to make, so much to re-evaluate, so many emotions, so much at stake. I want to put my hand on the world and just say: stop. No more spinning until I figure this all out.

This is where I am now.

To say it is difficult to get away when you have businesses, plural, and kids, plural, and obligations, exponentially plural, is indeed a great understatement. When I told my husband, who is dear and supportive always, that I needed to get away if not for a weekend then at least for a full day, to skip town and head out on my own, he jokingly replied "who's going to watch the kids?"

I know he's joking, but that's the heart of my anxiety about leaving. I know it's ridiculous, because really, my kids will be fine. My husband will be fine. My businesses will be fine. In fact, they'd all probably be much better off in the long run if I did skip town for a bit! I know my writing, for one, is suffering from lack of ability to focus.

So now the dilemma: where to go? Originally I thought I'd leave for a week to London, Paris, Florence... who was I kidding? Maybe when the kids are older and truly happy to see me gone that long :) There's no way we could afford that now anyway. So then, to the coast? A day at the beach? And when? A weekday, a weekend? Or do I just need to take a series of short vacations away, like an afternoon a week? I'm thinking about staying somewhere close, because then I could take our dog. He used to be my road trip buddy when I used to travel up and down the west for work. Sweet old dog. He does love the beach...

Until I figure it out, I'm just plugging along. But barely. Has anyone taken a solo vacation? If so, where, and for how long? Any tips? And when I say solo, I mean, not even with my girlfriends. Love them all dearly, but I do a ton of girls' night outs, girls' weekends. etc. This time, this trip, I need for me. Call me selfish, but there I be.

My Lunch With Martha

2008-09-11T12:00:00.000-07:00

All right, fine. I didn't actually have lunch with Martha Stewart. I really just wrote a lil guest blog post which went live today over at the Martha Stewart Everyday Foods blog. But still! I think I almost peed my pants when the ever fabulous Editor in Chief of EDF asked me to do a guest blog post. Really? Me? (looks over left shoulder, looks over right shoulder). Hmm. It appears she was talking to me, and she must have been since she actually sent me a message, and well, nobody (except the government) sees my emails except for me. So I said yes (duh) and now here, for all the world to see/make fun of/laugh at is my guest blog post about easy lunchtime ideas for busy families. I know, the blog is called Dinner Tonight, but they were already filled up with dinner posts. And I thought I was supposed to follow their blog format? But the other amazingly talented guest bloggers included their own recipes? And their own photos? Hmm...I think I misinterpreted the rules. Gah. Mine is a little blah in comparison. But alas, it's still there, and I am still going to dance in joy and total appreciation of this incredible opportunity.

Did they know that my family jokes my middle name is Martha? At least, back when I had more time & energy to throw myself completely into entertaining *sigh* This blog is great, because it's full of awesome recipes & tips/tricks for busy families. Hey, that's us!

OK, what are you still doing here? Go read the post and leave some comment love both here and there, pretty please?!

My Palin Post: For Me, For My Daughter

2008-09-06T09:34:00.000-07:00

I've been waiting to write this post until most of the initial madness has cleared. I haven't read most of the blog reactions out there. I watched the conventions, some news, and did my own research, trying to stick to only factual reports and not opinion-based articles (which is hard, because there are obviously a million opinion-based posts out there!). I've tweeted on Twitter, and conversed with friends. My friends know how opinionated I am. They are waiting for me to blog about it. (Hint: if you follow me on Twitter or FB you'd know my immediate thoughts :).

This is not to stir up (my 4 or 5) readers on either side, or allow folks another chance to proclaim their love or hate of Governor Palin. I am a former journalist, a registered Democrat, but in no way an expert on the exact details of Ms. Palin's life or policies. I am a voter, a mom of two small kids, the owner of two small businesses, and this is my post for me, and for my daughter.

I am, and always have been, a feminist. I believe women have a right to the same things as men. Plain and simple. We deserve the same pay, the same respect, the same acknowledgement, the same opportunities. I dressed up as Elizabeth Cady Stanton in 2nd grade for the "dress as your favorite historic figure" day or something like that (favorite hero day maybe?). I grew up with the hardest working mother, who, through her own experiences and dedication to and passion for her work, taught me that being a woman should not limit me in any way, but it also does not afford me any special privileges either. Just do your best job, and if you get over-looked or under-valued for being a woman or being a Filipino-American, then you simply do your job even better than your best.

I am a huge Hillary fan. Not that I voted for her in the primary, but I truly admire what she has done throughout her years of service, what she has stood for, and what she has tried to accomplish. For me, it was nice to see a prominent female politician finally become a serious contender for the Commander in Chief position. It was thrilling to watch her speak, and think that WOMAN could be our next President. A. Woman. President. The words I've been wanting to hear since I was a little girl. Forget dreams of the knight riding in on his white horse to save me; I dreamed of a day when maybe someday I could be president, or my friend Megan, or Emily, or Nikki. I dreamed simply for that possibility.

And here we are. After this election, we will either have the first African-American President or the first female Vice-President of the United States. Mind boggling. The problem with that? For me, it's how to properly explain to my daughter when she is older WHY I did not vote for the ticket with a woman's name on it. Why, after all my talk and work to further promote professional women in this world, why I did not use my power to vote to further promote THIS particular professional woman. And that's when I will have to explain to her that sexism works both ways: I wouldn't want a man to vote for someone just because he's a man, and nobody should vote for this ticket just because it has a woman's name on it.

And that woman is not just any woman. Sarah Palin is not the right woman for the job, and were she a man with the same credentials (or lack thereof), same spotted history, same hypocritical leadership, same disregard for rules that are put in place to protect equality, I would think she were just as unqualified to be second in line for Commander in Chief. As a woman, I am deeply, profoundly, dishearteningly insulted by the GOP's choice of Sarah Palin as their VP on the ticket. If they wanted my vote simply as a female, they should have chosen someone who actually has the credentials, the leadership, the intelligence, the family values that are pro-women. Someone whom we could all point to and say, "Ah! Now THERE'S a woman who will work and fight for the future of womankind!" But they didn't.

As a woman, I don't want someone with the same degree that I hold to be VP of the country; I want someone who is smarter and more educated than I am because her decisions and daily responsibilities are far, far greater than mine will ever be. As a woman, I want my kids to live in a safer world, and that means having someone in the #2 spot who has knowledge of how other countries actually work, because she has been to those countries, talked with their people, witnessed their daily rituals and understands their cultures; I've been to more countries than Palin, and many of my friend's young kids can say the same. As a woman, I want someone in the VP position who puts country first, and believes in this great nation and its constitution; but the GOP chose a woman who has supported succession from the country she now claims she wants to help lead, and whose husband has been one of the greatest supporters of that cause. As a woman, I want someone to help lead the country who will protect our ability to tell the truth, to ask hard questions and to uphold fairness for all; but in Palin, they've chosen a woman who is involved in a scandal that accuses her of an inappropriate firing (and who reportedly has a history of attempting to fire or demote anyone who disagrees with her), a woman who wants to ban books (I could write a whole separate post on my thoughts about that issue alone), and a woman who, when actually asked a simple fact-based question by a reporter, results in the GOP resorting to big bully tactics and refusing to actually answer fact-based questions. What will she do as VP? Only answer questions about issues she is in favor of or about her kids? As a woman, I also want someone who respects all Americans, and their way of life, not someone like Palin who mocks a man who has worked with the poor first hand and not just behind a desk as she has; a man who chose to work with and for the people, instead of the elite, corrupted big government as she has.

For me, as a woman, the choice is clear: by not voting the McCain/Palin ticket, I am voting FOR womankind. I am voting for the kind of future that allows my daughter the opportunity to live her life to the fullest, to have equal opportunities as those who are wealthier and of different color than her, to have control over not just her body but her LIFE should something awful happen to her, to live in a world free of fear from extinction in her lifetime because of our actions against the earth. I am voting for my kids, so that they may live in a safer world, so that they may have leadership that is intelligent, not average; passionate, not reactive; collaborative and fair, not exclusive and elitest.

I am a woman, a mother, and I am voting for Obama/Biden because I believe my daughter's future is safer and and filled with more opportunity in their hands. Now if only the GOP would stop insulting women everywhere by parading about the woman who so obviously is for nobody but herself.

(Also: read this letter from a Wasilla resident, sent to me by the ever fabulous @jenhen)

Me & Baker Boo

2008-08-30T19:32:00.000-07:00

I grew up in a family where meals always consisted of at least two entrees and a few different side dishes. And nobody ever forgot dessert. Food has always been such an important part of my life, my family, and it is such a joy to now be cooking and baking alongside my own kids, in particular, 4 year old Boo.

While my husband and I both love cooking, we also bake quite a bit at our house. Boo has been baking alongside me since he was about 2.5 years old, stirring, mixing in ingredients, adding toppings. Now that he's 4, he's helping me crack the eggs into the mix, measure ingredients, and just do more overall to help with the process. He loves being in the kitchen with me, and I truly love playing the role of teacher to this excited little baker.

This week we've made chocolate chip cookies, cupcakes and today, banana bread. He's starting to help decide what ingredients will go well with the dishes, since we use recipes as guidelines and give them our own little spin that works better for our family's taste. Today we mixed in apples into the banana bread and topped it with chocolate chips. Next time, he says we'll add apples AND pears. He gave today's bread a thumbs up.

So now he's slowly been helping me more with cooking in addition to our usual baking time together. We've done lots of baking together the past few years, but when I'm cooking he might just help set the table or throw in an ingredient I've already prepped. I'm thinking he's ready to do more now, but I'm not yet ready to hand over a knife for him to chop up veggies or anything (today he forgot he was holding crayons and ended up coloring on our countertops; chopping veggies, he is not yet ready for!). I'm thinking he can help roll out pizza dough, help measure ingredients with me now...maybe grate cheese?

If anyone has ideas about things that a 4-year-old can help with in terms of cooking meals, please let me know! I'm excited to engage him further into the world of cooking and not just baking!

What Me, Worry?

2008-08-20T21:47:00.000-07:00

I live each day based on gut instinct. It speaks to me, I follow it, and things usually work out in such a way that I am glad I don't question my gut. It tends to be when I do NOT listen to my gut that I get in trouble.

Yesterday while driving to pick up my son from school I noticed a man sitting on the street in a back alley nearby. We live in the burbs, and the school is not in an area where people just "hang out." There's really no street traffic, no reason for people to walk by the school as it IS the destination. There are men working around there regularly, but it's obvious they are working on the roof, taking out the trash, on a smoke break, etc. This man, who did not "look" homeless nor did he fit the profile of nearby workers, just sat on the street, drinking out of a can of something, staring off. And he did not look like he was on a break. He looked up as my car approached, and the look he gave me is almost indescribable: anger? fear? hate? disgust? It was the farthest from a smile, it was quite an onbvious glare. I met his gaze briefly, noted he looked like a sad version of a man I used to work with -almost shoulder length straight light brown/dirty blond hair, thin nose and thin build, light facial hair - and then I looked away and drove on. For whatever reason, he gave me the creeps. I couldn't shake the feeling. I went into the school, hugged my son, and swept him into the car and off we went. He made such an impression on me, this man, that I kept thinking about him for the rest of the day.

Then this morning, as I was leaving the school, I saw the man again. I don't know why, but for some reason as I was driving away, I looked toward an apartment building in an area I honestly never look at because I'm usually in such a hurry, and there he was. He was standing under an awning and for a moment I wondered if he lived there, but he looked at me again, and I knew he didn't. He was just trying to stay out of the rain. Everything about his posture and movement told me he was ready to move at a moment's notice should someone ask him to. He was not comfortable. He again gave me the same look. It lasted only a second or two, and then my car took me in the opposite direction. I drove away with the same awful, uneasy feeling. He was wearing the same slightly oversized purple shirt he wore the day before, and, it appeared, he was drinking out of the same or at least a similar can.

I drove away and debated with myself: should I call the school? Should I forget about it and not call? Maybe he was the guest of one of the apartment dwellers and had nothing to do while his friend was at work during the day? I had a terrible, terrible feeling that I just could not shake. This guy was not homeless, nor was he the father of one of the school kids, nor was he an employee of a nearby business. Why was I feeling so strongly about this? As I pulled into a gas station to fill up, I called the school. I felt a little silly talking to the director about the man, but it felt right. It still feels right. It was such a strong feeling that I almost drove back to the school and pulled my son out for the day: my gut wasn't talking to me, it was YELLING at me.

And so I hung up the phone, paid for my gas, and drove to work. The feeling went away after a while, and I presumed all was well. When I picked up my son from school, the man was nowhere in sight.

Sometimes I feel so silly for having such strong reactions. I worry that I'm overreacting. But when it comes to my family, I would rather risk offending a stranger than risk the safety of my family.

I hate that I feel this way. This worry, this instinct, this fear. As my kids get older, and I'm no longer able to be with them all the time, I hate it. I hate letting go and trusting their care to others sometimes. I know they are safe with the people I trust to care for them; it's the other people whom they may encounter along the way that I can never predict may exist that I do not trust. It's the "what if" that I can never foreshadow, the unthinkables I can never prepare for or prevent.

I don't hate many things, but I hate this fear. I woke up today feeling like there really is good in the world that lies within each person, and underneath every circumstance lies good intentions. I have to hold onto that faith that all people at the core are decent. I have to believe. If I don't, I think I will just be a total wreck anytime we step outside. I wish there were nothing to fear for our children. That we could send them to school and KNOW 100% without a doubt that nothing bad would ever happen to them. We don't live in that world, unfortunately, so I suppose I have to just hold onto my faith in humanity, and follow my gut when it sends me red flags. In these instances, I am actually happy when my gut feeling is wrong, and there's proof that I really don't have anything to worry about.

No really, I don't need alcohol to be this annoyingly hyper

2008-08-09T21:24:00.000-07:00

It's come to my attention that throughout my various online convos with you, and the other two people who read my six or seven blogs but never leave comments (ahem) that I write quite a bit about drinking. As in, I need one, I'd like one, someone please dear God get me one NOW, I understand why moms in the 50's had their 4pm martinis, I'm off to get some (drinks that is), or I am partaking in one. Then my brother's tweet on Twitter last night while hubs and I were tweeting the Olympics whilst drinking A Beer (as in, one, single, uno birra) made me realize that I probably normally sound drunk in my tweets, my blog posts, and other meandering forms of writing. Even without the assistance of alcohol.

Hmm. Pause for thought.

So here I am blogging, totally sober, but really, just as buzzed as I was last night on that one beer. I'm normally an outspoken, happy, hyper person in the first place. One of those annoying people who tends to write emails that contain a LOT of EXCITED CAPS!!! And exclamation points!! And :-) and ;D. And whose tagline in email signatures should just be "OMG! I am SO excited for you!!!" Couple that god awful loud & annoying personality with the fact that I'm in the land of the best NW wines and best microbrews in the world, so it's pretty natural for me to chat them up all the time. And think about them a lot. And sometimes, even partake in them. And by sometimes, I mean maybe one or two a week. I know, did I just shatter the party girl image I was trying for? Well, there ya be. Now my Swiss hubs and my Euro pals? Let's not get started on what "a drink or two" means to them! Our counting systems are totally different (I blame American public schools).

And I'll still talk about it all the time because I'm a mom with two super busy, active little ones under 5, with two busy businesses and about a million obsessive hobbies and online activities. So I often think "dude, a pint of Fat Tire would really do the trick right now" while I'm trying to finish up a website or powering through the last 50 or so emails of the day or cleaning up a poopy diaper after realizing my babe ate a whole pint of blueberries that day. But often we don't have any of the beer or wine I'm itching for in the house so I'll opt for a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream instead.

Mmm. Ice cream. Now there's an addiction that I admittedly DO have. Well, to chocolate in general really, especially dark chocolate, which goes really well with a glass of Oregon Pinot Noir...

(oh, and if you have read all this, please leave a comment would ya? even a "cheers!" would make this girl happy :)

The Magic of Mirrors

2008-07-25T17:01:00.001-07:00

I'm a sarcastic person by nature. Hubby and I like to have verbal wit duals sometimes, and he usually wins, but I can spar verbally with the best of them. But sometimes, I'm rendered speechless, and it's almost always when I look at my kids.

Today was a normal day, which means abnormal, because there are no normal days in our house. Woke up at 5:30am, showered, got dressed, packed up my stuff, and headed out the door for a 7am meeting 45 minutes away. Wore a suit today, which has not been a part of my normal routine at all since I left the corporate world 3 years ago, but I was speaking at this meeting so I suited up and put my game face on (whatever that is, I don't even know anymore!). After the meeting, I met up with hubby who drove the kids into town, switched cars, dropped off the deposit for my new office space, then headed to the bank to sign papers to help pay for said new office space. It was still early, about 8:45am, so it was quiet at the bank. But by 9am it got louder, thanks to my kids' comfort level with the bank growing. We waited. and waited. and while we waited and waited, the kids started running around the bank. Baby Tickle kept cracking up at big brother Boo. They played tag and chased each other. As I signed papers and talked numbers and equipment, I would catch a glimpse of their reflection in windows and monitors around the bank. They were so happy. So free. And so darn cute.

Finally papers were signed, and off we went to run more errands. More laughter in the car, and I'd catch them in my car's "conversation" mirror, grabbing for the other's hand, making faces at each other. Boo kept trying to explain things like a big experienced brother, while Baby Tickle just listened intently before throwing her head back and giggling the most amazing belly baby giggle. I am surprised I got us home safely: those conversation mirrors are addictive and probably why my neck hurts most of the time.

Life in our house truly is crazy right now, and I mean crazier than the normal craziness. There is so much happening, most of it good, but there's SO much of it, all at once. I don't have any downtime, none, and that's ok because I know it's temporary. What keeps me sane is catching glimpses of my kids throughout these super crazy days. My mind may be elsewhere but then suddenly I'll catch a glimpse of them, or hear their laughter, see their smiles, and suddenly the world stops. I stop. Even if it's just for a moment, it's beautiful and comforting and grounding. These magical moments remind me that the decisions I've made are the right ones, that as hard as they can be to work through, the reason is always worth it. To see my kids, to hear my kids, to hug and kiss and tickle my adorable breathtaking little people makes everything, everything worth it.

Garage Sale Revelations

2008-07-21T19:55:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, I started this lovely, poignant post about our garage sale and the beacons of light that beamed down onto my overloaded soul and filled it with such inspiration.

But it's the end of Monday now, and I don't have time to finish that bullshit so here's the short list of what I learned from our garage sale on Saturday:

1. "Things" really don't have sentimental value to me as perhaps some should. As we were putting out Boo & Baby Tickle's teeny tiny baby clothes, I would remember their itty bitty little selves writhing around in their cribs those first days, months in those outfits. But then onto the racks or bins they went. The new open spaces in all of our closets? Heaven! I hate clutter, apparently, more than I love what should be sentimental memories.

2. It really is nice to live close to family. I can bitch about how my parents set back months of working with Boo about the value of money within one 2-hour babysitting timeframe in which they taught him that if he's simply"good" he gets tons of quarters for his piggy bank (grr...). I can complain about my mom always forgetting things I tell her or my dad still trying to tell me how to do things that a stupid monkey could do, but when it comes down to it, having my parents and brother live about 45 minutes away is very nice. It's great to watch our kids grow up with fond memories of their grandparents (they LOVE their grandparents), and to grow up playing with their cousins. And we really couldn't have had that garage sale without them there to help. My bro & SIL and nephew stayed the whole time! On a beautiful Saturday! We didn't expect that at all so a big huge THANK YOU to them.

3. Never underestimate the power of a clean garage. I've seriously walked in and out of there, with it all clean and organized and corners where I am no longer afraid to reach for things for fear that something might bite me, and I've been as giddy as I would be after finding a fridge full of chocolate truffles. A clean garage gives me hope. For what? I don't know. But it does.

4. I'm a pushover. Big time. What's that? You say you want to give me just 25 cents for that almost brand new toy that costs $55 on store shelves right now? Ok! What a great idea! Take it! You look nice! And apparently, I can't say "no"!

5. I hate garage sales. Too much work. Cleaning, organizing, pricing, staging, negotiating. Next time? All of our friends and family can come over for an open house sale and just let us know if they want to take any of our older stuff. The rest goes to charity. We were pooped after just a one-day sale. I'm still pooped. So pooped, I'm going to bed. Good night!

Rockstar Cuties

2008-07-14T23:58:00.001-07:00

Today was an amazing day with the kids. They were both just rockstars and sure they had their moments when we were out and about, testing me and trying to get my attention by whining while I failed miserably at attempting to hold conversations with fellow adults, but all in all, we had a super fun, silly, big hugs all around kind of day. We danced, sang songs at the top of our lungs, made beautiful drawings and made up great crazy stories, made all of our regular errands fun adventures, and we just had so much effin fun today, that it really set the tone for the rest of the week. So are you listening, Tuesday through Sunday? You'd better live up to the wonderfulness that was Monday, or else I'm kicking ya back to last week, when you all sucked!

Which is why I didn't blog last week. Because it sucked. But this week....ah, I feel the change in the air already, thanks to my super rockin kiddos. I love you two more than the moon. And chocolate. Yep, that's right: even more than chocolate.

Foto Friday: My Secret Love

2008-07-04T00:00:00.000-07:00

I love pretty things. Paper. Coasters. Shirts. Bags. Laptop Skins. If I see a color combo or pattern that makes me happy, I have to have it, regardless of what it is. Most of the time, my purchases make sense. Sometimes, they don't.

Like my secret love of fabrics.

I could spend hours in a fabric store. The eye candy is just too much for me and I have to buy a few yards. Just a few. Because you never know. I may just buy a sewing machine one day and actually, um, sew something out of the beautiful fabrics I purchase.

I have cut out patterns and my mother, the seamstress, has made some t-shirts. Shirts we were and possibly still will sell through my design studio but for now just adorn my two kids. Sometimes I think about pillows. Pillows were always easy. I used to sew: pillows, blankets, skirts, shirts for my dolls, stuffed animals. It's been a long, long time.

I keep these in a cabinet in my office for design inspiration, and some framed on our living room wall because they're just too beautiful to hide away. Someday they will all be out in the world in varying shapes and sizes and uses...for now, their main purpose is to keep the creativity flowing and just simply make me happy.

Calling Super Nanny

2008-07-03T00:38:00.000-07:00

The time has come. Our nanny's fall school schedule isn't jiving with our family/my work schedule, thus we're (who are we kidding, I am) on the hunt for a new part-time nanny for my baby girl. I am grateful that I have two months to find one, and that I am lucky to have a lot of great resources in the area, but I am still not looking forward to the search. It's worse than hiring employees, which I actually love doing; it's asking complete strangers to come into my home and to love and care for my flesh and blood as much as I do. And to try not to kill the dog. Or to eat all of the bagels.

Sigh.

My dear daughter has never gone through this kind of transition before, so I worry what it will be like for her. My son, who will only be hanging out with the new nanny for less than an hour at a time after school, will most definitely put the new nanny through his test of wills, but I think he'll be fine. It's my sweet baby girl, who has really gotten attached to our current nanny...she's the one I worry about. She's been super clingy lately, and she's not normally so. I worry that at this stage of her life, it is a more difficult time for this kind of emotional transition.

But such is life. And I have to remember that she's a tough girl. She'll be fine. Right?

Sigh.

I've put the call out to friends and family, but have yet to hit Craigslist. I really don't want to go that route. So far I have one great lead, and I feel like I must have done something really great in a past life to have this lead so soon in the search. It's almost too good to be true. But will it work out? We shall see. I'm trying not to get too excited. She sounds great. But hiring a nanny puts me in both the interviewer AND the interviewee spot: I need to like and approve of her, but she needs to like and approve of us too.

The thing about hiring a nanny is that it's not just the kids that get attached. I do too. And while I love change, transitions, new beginnings, I truly suck at saying goodbye. I can't do it. I get attached to people I chat with in line at Starbucks, so imagine the attachment I get to the people who come into my home a few times a week and care for my children.

Well, wish us luck. And if anyone knows of a great part-time nanny in the Portland area, let me know! :-)

Photo Friday: My Morning

2008-06-27T08:58:00.001-07:00

In the 4 years I have been blogging, I believe this is my very first Photo Friday. Crazy, I know! I decided to do a storyboard of the things I wake up to each day. So here's a little glimpse into my mornings...

I wake up first to my alarm on my BlackBerry:

Hubby wouldn't let me photograph him this a.m. so this is a shot of his t-shirt this Friday morning. Don't take offense, people :)

Then our silly, LOUD, very much morning people kids are in my view:

And our Lab Retriever:

Coffee is King in the a.m., shown here in a mug given to me by our nanny last Christmas:

Roses from our garden on our buffet:

Have a great Friday and happy weekend, everyone!

At first I was afraid, I was petrified....

2008-06-23T23:17:00.001-07:00

...blah blah blah, the point is I survived my first kickboxing class! (And, um, don't tell anyone this, but I secretly really, really liked it! Yikes!). Now, my body still hurts like a mo-fo, but I'm lovin' the pain. I feel it in areas that need to be worked out, so that means those problem areas will be gone after the next class, right? I'll be svelt and confident and magically transformed into the 6-foot skinny make-up wearing blonde who dares to stand in the front of the class, right? (I still don't get wearing make-up while working out, especially a super sweaty work out, but that's another post...).
So for at least another week, I say: Bring it on, crazy happy, punching, kicking, high-fiving kickboxing instructor! Bring it. As my Lightning McQueen-loving 4 year old would say, "KA-CHOW!"

I am Kung Fu Panda: floppy & flabby...but fun!

2008-06-22T08:55:00.000-07:00

Fitness is not really my friend. I am truly more Kung Fu Panda than, say, Kelly Ripa or Heidi Klum. I do not enjoy working out. I am allergic to gyms. I dread exercise classes and get anxiety over the thought of any type of exercise in a social setting; the last thing I want to worry about while sweaty and stinky is making witty conversation with other human beings. So why, oh WHY, did I sign up for a cardio kickboxing class? Was I drunk/high/tricked? I have no good excuse. For some reason, I thought it was a GOOD IDEA. Hmmm...old age is apparently making me lose all good judgement.

The one thing I DO like to do is go running. Once in a while. And by that, I mean, maybe a couple of times a month...or a couple of times within a few months. Scheduling exercise seems odd to me. Three times a week? At the same time every day? That's crazy talk. Only crazy people do things like that. Hmm...I am getting older and hence crazier...

Well, here I am, at the start of summer, shorts and swimsuit season, and it's hit me: I want to work out. Wha-wha-WTF? Who said that? Was that MY inner voice? Holy hell it was! I want to eat better and lose these extra inches that I'd love to blame on the babies, except the youngest is now 14 months. I stopped nursing a little over a month ago but forgot to stop eating those extra 500 calories...and they're not exactly leaving my body. I may weigh the same as I did in high school, but that is a BAD thing: my body is most definitely NOT the same! Which means I have lost a lot of muscle and gained the lesser-weight-but-more-fatty-fat-skin fat in its place.

Loverly.

The worst is the muffin top: the horrid "mom" syndrome of a belly and love handles that likes to flop over jeans that aren't even tight. I hate it. My ass isn't the same either. When I went running the other day, I actually FELT these horrid...things...flopping about as I pounded the pavement. Ick. I was so disgusted.

And so, in a moment of weakness, I signed up for a kickboxing class. It starts in less than 2 hours.

Well, shit.

Wish me luck. I've never taken a kickboxing class. What do I wear? I'm weary of it already because it's a class. The anxiety of "what if all the other people in the class end up as friends and go out afterward for post-workout coffee without me?" is already annoying my overactive imagination. But I'm going. I can't take the muffin top and love handles anymore. It's time to reclaim my body.

Deep breath. Here I go...!

Insomniac

2008-06-19T17:35:00.001-07:00

insomnia by mschotland

Our Anti-Summer Camp Summer

2008-06-16T08:12:00.000-07:00

Boo is now home an extra day from preschool, so he goes 3 half days instead of 4 from now until September. This means one less work day for me, which means more madness in the house in general, but during the summer it seems like juggling everything is less of a hassle and more of a joy. It may not be the lazy, hazy days of summer around our house, but it certainly feels like lighter, happier, more carefree days...even as busy as our days are.

I debated about signing Boo up for summer classes: swimming, soccer, music, art. But signing up for the classes we want for the days and times that would work for us is always a huge headache, and in the end, I decided against any formal camps or classes. Boo just turned four; he's not 12. He already goes to school and has that structure, and during the summer his preschool has mini "camps" anyway. I truly believe that as a society we tend to overschedule our kids. I am a big believer in letting kids be kids: let them enjoy a lazy day here and there of just hanging out in the backyard collecting bugs, waking up with no set schedule and seeing where the day takes us, not having to be anywhere at a certain time. Even if I can give Boo two of these days a week, or even just one day with no plans, I notice that he is a much happier soul. And as much as we know kids crave schedules, I also want Boo and Tickle to grow up knowing that most days you just need to roll with the punches and see what happens. The ability to schedule but the flexibility to change: that's what life is, right?

So here we are, on a sunny Monday morning, hanging out having breakfast in pajamas. Boo said he wants to print out more pictures for his photo album, the mini travel album that we made for him when we travel places so he gets excited about the people and places we're going to see.
That's the only thing on our "agenda" today. Granted, I've got a million things to do for the businesses, my formal revised biz plan to finish up before I meet with my business counselor this week, and I should probably clean the house, but whatever. Those things can wait and they'll happen in due time. Today we're just going to breathe and enjoy just being. I love summer!

Tickle stopping to smell the flowers:

Weaning & Co-Sleeping

2008-06-07T14:18:00.001-07:00

It's officially been two weeks since my last nursing session with baby Tickle. At 13.5 months old, we were both done. She was just using me for comforting nibbles, and it was time. I had no goals for nursing with her. With Boo, I wanted to make it to 6 months, and we made it to 8.5 months before he essentially weaned himself before I had to go on a trip to San Fran and couldn't take him with me. It affected me more than it did him. I was in PAIN! This time, the parting was a whisper, where I haven't felt any difference and apparently, neither did Tickle. She's a big girl, and she just loves her sippy cup and drinking out of regular kid cups too.

Part of me is sad. She's our baby, our last baby, and the lovely nursing sessions are done. Another milestone that we won't reach with another kid.

But yesterday at the doctor's office a woman walked in with a crying infant, all chubby and pink and maybe all of two months, and all I could think was: "Cute. Glad we're done with that phase." And so, I know, no big pangs of wanting another from this mama.

As for Boo, we made a deal that when he turned 4 he'd start sleeping in his own bed in his own room again. That's right: ever since Tickle came home from the hospital, Boo has been sleeping with us. And we loved it. Boo is our baby too, and he's getting so big so fast, and we know he's not going to want to snuggle up with us as much anymore as he gets older. I know lots of friends who cosleep for different reasons, one of them being that they work FT and cosleeping allows them to connect more with their kids. While hubby works FT out of the house, I work FT in the house, and it just makes me want to spend as much time snuggling my little babes for as long as I can, for as long as they'll let me.

Boo is four. Last night he slept in his own bed in his own room. I was so proud of him, but also a bit sad. Our kids are growing up, and I just don't want to miss a minute of it. He ended up crawling into our bed halfway through the night, and I was a little happy about it.

(If you are wondering about Tickle, she's been sleeping in her own crib in her own room perfectly happily since she was about five months. She's our independent one).

Anatomy of a Mama's Morning

2008-06-05T08:43:00.000-07:00

Here's my morning:

wake up against my will
check emails in bed
shower
get dressed
deal with ungodly thick hair that has no shape
make breakfast for son
feed the dog
make second breakfast for son because dog ate his first breakfast
unload dishwasher
make coffee
put away dirty dishes from sink
take out trash (to the actual trash bin outside & not just in our garage, ahem)
vacuum (and sometimes mop the floors)
get baby dressed
change baby's new and very full poopy diaper
get baby dressed again
feed baby breakfast
put away hubby's dirty dishes that he left out from last night & this morning
check emails
resolve sibling morning squabble
fix some website issues
order dad's day gifts + a little something for myself
clean up after baby's breakfast (big mess)
pack son's lunch
get kids out the door & son off to school
go to work in the office

Hubby's morning:

wake up against his will
shower
get dressed
iron a shirt or pants
get in car and go to work

Are you mamas out there going through the same type of morning imbalance in your routines?

Beach Birthdays: Not for the Weak

2008-06-03T21:55:00.000-07:00

Birthday Week is over, and I think I am breathing again. Except that from the 3.5 days I was without internet access (hotel *said* there was free Wi-Fi, but it did NOT work EVER for me!), I amassed 13,000+ emails. That's right. There's not an extra "0" there. 13-THOUSAND emails. I've got it whittled down to 12, 510 as I write this.

Friday was hell. No, actually, it was Hell - capital "H." I ran around all morning doing last minute errands, packed up all of our stuff in super anal organized fashion (man we had a LOT of stuff!), did all of the last minute food prep, went for an oil change for the car, picked up hubby from work (he was *supposed* to have the day off to help in the morning. Grrrr), drove to the beach, checked in. Hung out on the beach for a bit (that part of the day was great), went back to hotel, attempted to decorate the cake and cookies, then spent the entire night trying desperately to get baby Tickle to go to sleep. She wouldn't have it. We did stories, rocked her, sang to her, let her walk around for a bit, gave her more milk, took her for a drive even, and she slept maybe a total of 4 hours. Total. Then, of course, it was time to "wake up" which was a silly thought since we barely went to sleep! Boo, thankfully, got some sleep. He was the only one.

(Pic below of dino egg cake + dino cookies)

Saturday, the day of Boo's birthday beach celebration, was a marvelous day. It wasn't sunny but it also wasn't windy at all (odd for the coast) nor did it rain at all. It was just right for us. We set out Boo's cake (which melted, by the way, in our hotel room after I had decorated it. PISSED was I. It looked like CRAP!), all of the food we brought, the cookies, and set out the sand buckets and shovels and dino toys for the kids' party favors. Friends and my parents arrived and Boo had a great time. Granted, he protested when it was time to sing Happy Birthday and blow out the candles, but we were fine with that. If you didn't know Boo, you'd probably be all sad that he missed out on that, but Boo is his own person and he does what he wants when he wants, and this was birthday celebration #3 for him last week, so hubby and I really didn't push the matter with him too much. He had a GREAT time and still talks about it. It was so nice of his friends and our friends to come out to the beach for Boo's birthday. He spent the rest of the day and night playing with his new toys, we went out to dinner with my folks, watched crazy people hold bonfires on the beach right outside our hotel room (it was freezing at night!), and then, by some miracle, both kids slept super soundly that night.

Will we do a destination kids birthday party again? Probably not. I absolutely love entertaining, cooking, baking, organizing, organizing some more, and putting together parties. But moving a kids party someplace that requires even more prep work days beforehand, packing, and additional "what if" planning is too much even for this crazy mama. So many people I know told me "what a great idea! Less stress!" To which I say a big fat "HA!" Is anything about a kids party or traveling with kids NON-stressful? Now multiply that stress times, oh, about a million. That's how stressful this weekend was for me.

Was it worth it though? (pause). Yes. I think so. Boo got the birthday party he has been talking about for the past 8 months. Tickle got to play on the beach that she loves so much. The ocean calms her, and it's so interesting to see her on the beach. They got to fly kites, build sand castles, search for seashells, watch the seagulls, build sand pits/forts, and just run around on the sand. For us as parents, it was just lovely to watch them be so happy and in love with a place that we have loved for so long.

But yes, I am glad to be back among working technology, and no birthday celebrations to plan for 11 more months. Even my 12, 510 emails in my inbox can't faze me now...! :)

Happy Birthday, Boo!

2008-05-28T01:32:00.000-07:00

Dear Boo,

Today you are FOUR years old. Holy cow, how time flies! Remember when you were this little?

No? Well, I do. And so does your dad. We remember it well. I remember the first moments a little bit better than your dad did, since you came kicking out of me. Knew then that you were going to be a lively one, and you have not disappointed! You've made every day since that first day four years ago so much richer, much livelier, much more meaningful.

Now look at you. Four. A big kid who loves music, dinosaurs, spelling out random words throughout the day, and making people laugh. Above all, your mission in life is to make people laugh and we are most definitely enjoying this part of you. Your silly faces, funny voices, and crazy antics keep us entertained for hours. Your singing and playing songs on the play piano bring lots of beautiful sunshine to our days and nights. Your sweet hugs bring us so much joy each day.

We wrote more on our private "letters to the kids" blog, but we wanted to give you a public happy birthday note here too. Happy birthday, dear Boo. We hope you have a lot of fun during birthday week!

Love,
Mama M & Papa A

Birthday Week

2008-05-24T01:42:00.000-07:00

Behold: It is the eve of Birthday Week in our household. The week in which hubby and Boo turn one year older. The week in which I transform magically into Super Wife & Mom and perform all domestic and Social Activities Director duties with grace, poise, and execute birthday celebrations with absolute perfection.

Snicker. I'm SO not that this year.

I have always loved entertaining. This, naturally, I blame on my mother. Along with my annoying habit of laughing at everything, a little too much sometimes. Along with a million other quirks I don't care to take responsibility for. My childhood was a blur of parties, always at our house, always with tons of 100% homemade food, always with tons of people whom I grew up thinking were all related to me but in fact some were just random people my parents happened to meet that week because they are THOSE kind of people. They'll invite strangers over for breakfast in pajamas if it meant another excuse to cook for other people. It's what makes them happy.

Fast forward to 30-some (ahem) years later, and here I am. The Mom. I plan all of our family activities and coordinate every last detail of our family celebrations. And this year, while friends and family may foolishly believe I have everything all wrapped up, it is just my masterful art of smoke and mirrors. Hubby's bday is pretty much taken care of. His much-too-expensive gift is not only purchased but also already opened and being enjoyed (begins with "i" and ends with "phone" -- get your Father's Day gift from an AT & T store near you since stupid Apple is all sold out because of the self-created hype surrounding rumors of a soon-to-be-release iPhone 2). Plans are made, and babysitters secured.

Boo's birthday, on the other hand, is the reason I am taking next week semi-off of work. We're going to the beach (his idea) for a dinosaur beach birthday (odd combo but he's brilliant because it works), and we have our time and our rooms reserved. That's it. What kind of cake to make? What about food? Games? Who's coming for sure? Who will show up completely as a surprise and throw my entire planning off?

The one piece my son won't let me skimp out on? The cake. I made the mistake of making cakes in cool shapes and decorating them somewhat elaborately (for me anyway) each year, and this year he's banking on something cool. I'm thinking a dinosaur egg, that should be easy enough, right? Oval shape, make it look cracked, put a dinosaur in the middle like it just hatched. Hmmm...think I just solved that problem by blogging. See? Blogging does help!

Here are past cakes. I am sure you, dear reader and likely fellow Mama, create much better concoctions than my amateur attempts pictured here. Just humor me and say "oh yes! these ARE lovely! You ARE a fun mama!"

CARS cake for 3rd Birthday:

Monkey cake for 2nd Birthday:

Animal Cookies to go with Jungle Theme:

Tractor Cake for 1st Birthday:

Yeah, I can say "F#*! it" and pretend to not worry, but I think I will always have this cloud of expectation hanging over me, that I'm The Mom and my kids' birthdays should always be up to a certain level of cool. Who makes up these levels? Society? Other moms? If we all banded together and said "Enough! Let's just forego the birthday party madness all together! Who's with me?" then maybe I could say "F#*! it" and really mean it. But then, part of me WANTS to be The Mom who does all this cool stuff. And then another secret part of me sort of (gulp) LIKES doing this kind of crazy Mom thing.

Oh, the ridiculous things that keep me up at night. I'll post pics of whatever cake I end up making. Or pics of the pizza that we end up ordering in because I forgot to bring the cake to the beach, which is always a possibility with me!

All I Want For Mother's Day....

2008-05-10T22:48:00.000-07:00

...is two hours of silence, by myself. Is that a horrible thing to want? Not very motherly of me, I know. But really, there's constant chatter, noise, ongoing in my world and I can never seem to stop it. Blackberry's buzzing, kids' wanting something, husband complaining about my bitching at him, kids yelling at each other, dog barking, emails with senders' voices yelling in my head & demanding something from me, neighbor's kids' slamming car doors incessantly...

Peace on earth. At least in my little selfish world. For two hours. Is that so much?

Oh, and Happy Mother's Day to all you mamas out there. May you get your two hours of peace as well!

Boo the Barber

2008-05-07T00:38:00.000-07:00

On Monday, I was typing a quick email out to a client when I see Boo out of the corner of my eye next to baby Tickle at their kids' desk in the office. He has a pair of his kiddie scissors in his hands. He's putting them away. But I see no paper in his hands. He loves to cut and paste shapes that he makes with his crayons and markers and give them to us as presents. He did not do that this time. I look at baby, she seems fine. A few minutes later, email is sent, I kneel down to play with baby Tickle and notice a lock of hair on the floor. It's not a lot, but it definitely did not fall off someone's head: no, this hair was cut off of someone's head. Boo, meanwhile, is now chatting about being the "Hair Cutter."

Me: Boo, did you cut your hair?
Boo: (smiles) No, I did not.
Me: Did you cut your sister's hair?
Boo: (smile gets bigger and eyes are beaming with pride) No, I didn't...
Me: (holding up lock of hair) Boo, whose hair is this?
Boo: It's Tickle's...
Me: BOOOOOOOO!!!!
Boo: But her hair is getting long! She needs a haircut!

I couldn't help but smile. It was the first real big brother/little sister form of torture/rivalry/pranks, whatever you want to call it, that he had exhibited. The first of thousands to come, I am sure.

FOS: That's Me

2008-05-05T14:02:00.000-07:00

FOS=Full of shit. My last post, where I swore I wouldn't go out and buy a whole set of new SIGG bottles for the fam? Yeah. Guess what I did this weekend? Bought one new SIGG for baby Tickle, two new SIGGs for Boo, one for hubby and one beautiful blue one for moi. Also: bought two new BPA-free Born Free brand baby bottles. Thank you, rebate. At least I am saving the environment & perhaps our bodies from poison with the ridiculous stimulus check.
Yes, I am a hypocrite. I am annoyed with myself.

New kiddie SIGGS:

It's Official: Everything Will Kill Us

2008-05-01T23:59:00.001-07:00

Because I am a former journalist and because I've delved into stories in the past where both sides had amazingly credible research to back up their polar opposite findings, I usually tend to hold back with caution about media-hyped stories that ignite fear in the general public, particularly fear in parents and the elderly - the media and government's two favorite fear targets. Global warming? I totally back that up: it's serious, and if we don't do something about it soon, our grandkids won't be able to enjoy this beautiful earth of ours. BPA in sippy cups, food containers and other materials around our homes will kill us? Not likely, and in this recession (and it IS a recession you moron dufus Dubya. Just call it that already and go back to your catnap on the couch with your Coors Light), I'm not apt to throw out -and thus add to landfills with more harmful chemicals!- and then buy a ton of brand new $20 SIGG bottles for my family of 4. I'm sorry, but I'm not.

Am I concerned? Hell yes! But I'm also tired. Aren't you? I'm tired of the recalls, tired of the stream of studies that shows everything we've been using, breathing, eating, smelling or even thinking about is somehow bad, bad, bad for us. If I got totally wrapped up in every single fear-inducing study that shows something I am using or eating is bad for me, I'd be one neurotic, f'd up mother. Ok, maybe I am already that, so see? I don't need the studies to add to the neurotic already within me.

I do love the SIGG bottles. Who doesn't? And I am going to actually go get a couple more. They're adorable, and from hubby's homeland. That they're safer for us and better for the enviroment? Total awesome bonus. I'm just saying that I am tired of getting whiplash from the back and forth in the medical community and the retail world. It's good for you, now it's bad for you. It was bad for you, but now it's good for you. This study says only trace amounts of BPA actually are digested by infants on a daily basis and there is no evidence to believe those amounts cause any long-term harm; then this other study begs to differ. Yes, it's good that more studies are done, and that the news is reporting these things more than they did when our moms were raising us. But I also want to go one day without being told that everything I have, eat, use, look at is somehow, in some way, going to poison me or my children. Is that so much to ask? One day, please.

In the meantime, this is the article that I personally found the most helpful in finding alternatives to BPA baby and toddler bottles.

I am officially my mother

2008-04-23T09:41:00.001-07:00

Please slap me now. Here is a list of horrible awful things I have said in the past few months that I swear come straight from my mother's mouth, but there they are, coming out of mine. Help!

Today, to 3.5 yo: "You should eat ALL of the waffle. There are kids starving and don't have anything to eat and they would love the edge of that waffle!"
"I will turn this car around if you keep it up!"
"Fine. Then you can get out and walk home. Do you want me to stop the car so you can walk home?"
After the 314th time of asking me what something is:"Why don't you go ask daddy?"
"Don't sit too close to the TV or it will hurt your eyes." (even though I just read that in fact, sitting that close to a tv will not, in fact, hurt anyone's eyes)
"Can you please turn that music down? It's too loud!"

And my all time favorite that both my husband and I have used:"Because I said so. That's why."

It is official. I am old. And I am my mother.

Dinner Dilemmas

2008-04-15T17:22:00.000-07:00

I'm at that point again. You know which one. The one where I sit at my computer (because I am always at my computer) trying to figure out what to make for dinner and every idea that pops into my head is met with a big fat "no." I hate this point. It comes around every few months, nagging me, taunting me, teasing me with what a Bad Mama I am for not having snazzy dinner ideas each night.

We definitely have our standbys: Filipino turkey burgers (only Filipino because I made up the recipe and I am one), spaghetti and turkey meatsauce, penne with sausage and peppers, homemade chicken fingers, mediterranean vegetable soup, pork chops, meatloaf, ribs, chicken pasta salad. We used to have kung pao chicken and chicken marsala as part of our repertoire, but those are too tedious to make with two little kids.

I'm also not a slow cooker person, and neither is my husband. One-pot dishes in general are not for us.

So what's left? What's super easy and tasty and somewhat healthy? If anyone has dishes that are part of their Tried-and-True dinner list, please share!

Girl, Stop Screaming please!

2008-04-08T14:19:00.001-07:00

So how come nobody warned me about the girl scream? Oh my friends warned me about the girl squeal... but nobody warned me about the girl SCREAM.

Baby Tickle screams. Loudly. Shrieking might be an appropriate description. It is high pitched, sharp, and very, VERY L-O-U-D. She screams when she wants something and can't have it right NOW. She screams when brother Boo grabs a toy away from her. She screams when she's happy, sad, mad, you name it. It's deafening. It can, as my husband says, probably shatter glass.

I am investing in Costco-sized tubs of migraine meds...

Happy Birthday Tickle!

2008-04-03T01:25:00.000-07:00

Today is my baby girl's first birthday. It is 1:30 in the morning. I just finished making her food and packing it up for her to take to our nanny share tomorrow. I posted on our family blog. I am looking at her baby pictures and getting all weepy and it's freaking me out because I am not normally weepy. But here I am. A ball of mess either because it is 1:30 in the morning and I am totally exhausted or because I really can't believe our baby is one year old now. Maybe because of both.

I've returned to this blog because it is where I write about being a mommy, and while I can write a little about that on my other blogs, they are all for someone else. For entrepreneurs, for business news, for others. This one is for me. I get to write about how much I love/dread/worry about being a mama, and all of the fun/crazy/annoying/insane things my kids do to fill our days. I keep this blog because being a mama is what consumes me the most, and because it is the part of my life that holds the most change and activity. Today I am just proud to be a mom to two kids who really are the greatest kids I could have ever hoped for. They make me smile like nothing else in the world. They are my world. And there are two of them now, both getting to be so big and so much their very own little people.

Tickle has always seemed older to me, to my husband, and even my parents keep mentioning that she has always seemed older than her age. She was born with these wise expressions, and from the moment she opened her eyes it seemed she could focus clearly on the world around her. Maybe it's because I know we are not having more kids that I am weepy today; not because we're not having more kids (lord, I am cheering that notion!) but because Tickle is the last baby in our house, and she is really almost no longer a baby.

Tickle's eyes light up whenever someone she knows and loves walks into a room, and then she breaks into the biggest smile you've ever seen, and her whole body jumps from excitement. Her laugh comes so easily and is so honest and large that it resonates in my head for hours later, making me smile. She is adventurous, fearless, but smart; she'll try anything but her every moment is well thought-out and precise. She is a great eater and definitely has my appetite. At one, she is already eating us out of house and home, and it makes this mama proud. She is loving, affectionate, and kind. She will race across the room to hug her brother. She rests her head on our shoulders and wraps her arms around our necks so affectionately it takes our breath away. She is our baby, but I think in many ways, she takes care of us sometimes instead of the other way around.

Happy birthday, baby girl. We love you more than you could ever know. Now get ready for some amazing cupcakes! We're sure you will eat them up! :)

Baby

2008-04-02T13:11:00.001-07:00

Holy cow. Ticke turns one tomorrow. Been a lot of places today and every single place we went, I was asked how old she is. It's like the fates are playing games with me, as if I need to be reminded that my baby is turning one. Tomorrow. She is ONE. TOMORROW. I need a valium. Or Scotch. Maybe both.

Lessons Learned with Baby #2, a year later...

2008-03-31T21:22:00.001-07:00

Baby Tickle is about to turn one this week. ONE! Uno! The big 0-1! I can't believe it. I really can't.

Here is the t-shirt I made for Tickle's first birthday (my design, my mom sewed it all together):

Here's a list of some reflections on having a second child versus being a new mommy with the first:
* Having the second is like a nice friendly warm and tingly big huge slap in the face. It's a reality check that wipes the smug first-time mom grin off your smug little "I'm such a good mom!" face, because you realize that everything you did the first time around was a ridiculous waste of time.
* You do take as many photos with the second child. They just might not make it into the albums alphabetized, categorized by events, or even thrown into the albums at all. But they exist and that deserves a round of applause.
* Sleep training is a bunch of crap devised by "authors" who have no idea what it is like to actually try any of those stupid "get baby to sleep while drowsy" methods within this decades. It's normal for babies to wake several times throughout the night (heck, we do too!) and now I would like all of that wasted time I spent trying to institute schedules with the first back now, please.
*Babies schedules change. All the time. It's the only constant.
* Don't wake a sleeping baby, no matter what. If you do, and this is your second child, you are an idiot who did not learn this lesson the first time around.
* Who has time to wash that spoon that just fell on the ground? A good wiping on my napkin or a lick by the dog works just fine.
* Milestones are for suckers and yet another tool to keep mothers overwrought with fear that their child (and themselves as mothers) are not "normal."
* Babies cry. You do not need to spend two hours trying to decipher whether your baby is doing the hungry, tired, too hot, too cold, uncomfortable, or gassy cry. Your child will be even more mad at you for wasting this time, and thus, cry harder.
* There is no time to worry with the second child. You know they will fall, they will cry, they will eventually sleep, and they will learn to smile, walk, talk, point, giggle, play games in their own due time. Babies are smart like that.
*The love between siblings is so much more incredible to witness than anyone ever could have prepared us for.
* There is so much more love with two. It's a different kind of love for each, but a massive, bellowing, embracing, giddy mad, mad love nonetheless. And it's breathtaking to look at the subjects of said love and realize that they are yours, and you are theirs, and nothing else matters.

Also, I have learned that the second time around more so than the first, I have ZERO tolerance for unsolicited advice. My kids were born somehow smarter than the books: the bribes and trickery and silly games don't work, so don't try to Nanny 9-1-1 my ass anytime I even
so much as breathe a sliver of a complaint. I'm going to complain. I have two very active, very loud, very sassy and brilliant little kids who are adorable and fun and also very, very tiring. Their goal each day is to see which one can wear me out the most, and on most days, they tie. So I'm going to complain. But this time around, it's not to get tips. I know the tips, and I know what works and what doesn't. I don't care if you use your mindgames on your kids, just don't try them on mine without expecting the "Oh, puh-leaze, woman! How dumb do you think I am?" looks. Really, my kids have perfected that look.

Tickle will get a super warm and fuzzy post in our private family letters to the kids, don't worry. This post is just from me, as a mom to two, to any of you moms out there who may be reading this. It really is a million times harder having two. I have heard that the jump from two to three kids isn't as hard. Well, that's great. I think I will take other people's word for that and not test it out on my own.

Out of his shell

2008-03-26T08:39:00.000-07:00

Baby Boo is no longer a baby. He'll be FOUR this summer! Damn. I remember being out at a playdate with him last year when he just turned three. He was still very hesitant for the first, oh, hour or sometimes hour and a half, of being anyplace new or anyplace with lots of people or anyplace after a nap. He clung to me. He whined. He threw magnificent tantrums that made me want to stand up and clap with a hearty "Bravo!" after he was done. The tantrums were truly acts worthy of Oscars. A mama friend with two boys stood by my side at this specific playdate and said to me kindly, "You know, my son was the same way and he didn't really come out of his shell until he turned four. Then it was like a switch was flipped and he is now this outgoing, cheerful child."

Hmph. I am a skeptic. Especially of fellow mamas' advice because I've learned that I breed the kids that like to throw all common advice that works for every other kid out the window with a defiant "HA! Take that, stupid advice! You won't work with ME!"

But then, something happened. In the last few months, a switch was flipped, and the son that my husband and I have known since he was born has finally started to come out and play with the rest of the world outside of our house. Boo has always been loud, hyper, cheerful, imaginative, super playful and hella funny at home and with us. Now he is this way everywhere we go. It has been amazing to watch, and it almost makes me tear up now as I write this. Almost. The caffeine shooting through the IV right now to get me going in the morning is drying out any tears. But I digress. Having others now see the amazing little boy that we have always known is such a treat. Watching him go about his entire day with such confidence now -- it's the best high I could ask for right now.

I'm so proud of you Boo. You've really come into your own. And it's like my mama friend said, right around your 4th birthday. Except like the rebel you are, you came out of your shell a little earlier. Good for you, my man.

anniversaries and the great weaning challenge

2008-03-24T14:58:00.000-07:00

Today is our 7th wedding anniversary, although this year we will have been together for 15 years. Holy cow that's nuts. I feel old. I don't know who that is in our wedding photos. Having kids definitely ages you! :)

In other family news, I'm trying to start to wean our baby girl but she's not stopping without a fight. She is fine during the day: nurses in the morning and then again at night and that's it, but she still wants to nurse during the night. I'm tired. My back hurts. I just want the magic wand to wave and presto! She's instantly weaned and sleeps through the night with no problem!

Yeah. If any mama out there has a baby/toddler/kid under age 3 who honestly sleeps 12 hours a night without waking up once at all, then either
a) you're lying
b) you have a robot child
c) my mama friends and I all hate you and don't want to hear it

:)

Biter

2008-01-24T12:51:00.000-08:00

My daughter is teething. Hard. She got her two bottom teeth a few months ago and for the past week she's had three top teeth coming in at the same time. I'm sure that's gotta hurt like a mother f&Sxer but does she have to practice using them while nursing? She has bitten me sooooo many times and HARD! I tell her "no biting" in a stern voice and then take her off and don't let her nurse again for a while when she bites, but she seems to think it's hilarious and just tries to bite again a few hours later. She's nutso. Meanwhile, she's never really taken the bottle (as much as we have tried steadily for all 9 months of her life!) but you better bet I am willing to do what it takes to cut down on the nursing now. I'm thinking a morning and nighttime nursing schedule only, with either formula or pumped breastmilk in between along with her solids, but in reality I am not sure how it will all work.

The fact that she seems to revel in my pain makes me think we're in for several fun years of mischievous behavior with this one...!

New Year, Old-Is-New Blog

2008-01-11T16:59:00.000-08:00

I'm baaaaack!

It's been a year since I have posted on this blog. This, the first of what would be many, many blogs of mine. My original baby blog. I walked away and now I am back. It is time. And it feels SO good to be back!

Why am I back? I have no idea, other than I want to be, and isn't that the best reason for blogging? Because you WANT to, and not because you feel you HAVE to? I no longer feel compelled to come up with interesting/witty posts to hold the interest of fellow bloggers out there. As the mama of now two little munchkins, I just want to write about them again. And things. And whatever. If you would like to join me (or rejoin me) in this blog again, I thank you. If not, I don't mind closing the virtual door and saying adios. I've got lots of other blogs, including a private one for friends and family, but now... now I feel like it's time for this one to come back. I have two kids - Boo is now 3.5 (the "half" part is very important to him!) and my littlest one, whom we'll call Tickle for now, is 9 months old. Nine months already! I was only 30 weeks pregnant the last time I wrote in this blog, and it feels like it was just a month ago! Oh what a pair, my little munchkins. I love the little buggers more than chocolate, and I am eager to start writing about our days together on this blog again.

So here I am. New year. New blog. Sort of.

Week 30: am i ever going to sleep again?

2007-01-26T14:55:00.000-08:00

i haven't slept well at all this week. 4 hours last night. the same the night before. i'm up and i can't get back to sleep. doesn't help that this week is super busy and i'm running around all over town for meetings, playdates, supplies, etc. doesn't help that my son has chosen this week to totally come out of his shell and become mr. social, gabbing it up nonstop with strangers, running around all over the place like he just got new batteries, being defiant (in a sweet voice but defiant nonetheless), and running away from me when it's time to go. i'm beat. super duper tired. my whole body aches and i just want to hibernate in my house for at least 72 hours without any obligations and a magic fairy who takes care of my son and keeps him occupied.

being pregnant the second time around really is harder, like everyone says, because we've got this other little person to take care of and because my body is just not the same as it once was.

We're getting there...

2007-01-07T16:06:00.000-08:00

This week I enter my third trimester! Holy cow, how did that happen so fast!?!

I'm back after a brief absence. Sorry - anyone miss me at all? :)

Here are some pics of the baby's nursery. We painted it lime green, fuchsia and orange. It's very bright and cheerful in there. We used Yolo paint (a locally-made, no VOC paint) for the green, and Miller (another local, no VOC) paint for the fuchsia and orange.

Now keep in mind that the closet is filled with clothes that are 0-12 months. I'm a little freaked out about the idea of having to go clothes shopping with a three year old and a baby in tow, so I'm trying to be uber prepared. Plus, I've been nesting since day one of this pregnancy. I expect it to be a busy year, business wise, so I am also trying to do what I can, when I can, so I don't get ambushed with too many business needs and too many new baby needs all at the same time. We'll see how that goes!

We still have a lot of designing and decorating of the nursery to do, but the bulk is done for the time being. We have most of the Big Stuff we need, except I can't find the bassinett anywhere and we planned on using that again for the first three months. Where could it be?

Then my other main Gear issue is a stroller, or rather, the two stroller dilemma. We need a double stroller that will work for walking/going about town, and another double stroller for jogging and marathon training. I've been researching pretty heavily the last few months and am pissed off that there isn't ONE stroller that works well for both. We love the Phil & Ted's but it's not really built well enough to handle jogging/running. We are thinking about the BOB for a double jogger, but it's way too bulky to use for everyday jaunts about town. I know that for quick trips I will use the Baby Bjorn or sling for baby and can just use our regular stroller for Boo, but pushing a kid in a stroller and having a baby in a sling/carrier for long periods of time does just not sound comfortable or reasonable. Ugh.

The baby industry is a sham, I tell you. Just like there's no ONE diaper bag that fits all occasions...oh, don't even get me started on the diaper bags! :)

Happy New Year, fellow bloggers. May you all be well!

Blogging Blahs

2006-12-14T21:43:00.000-08:00

Hmmm...it appears to have been one month and seven days since I have blogged on this particular blog. I am debating about whether I should keep going on this one, or whether my other blogs fill my needs appropriately. We just started a private family blog, since quite frankly, it's been tripping me out lately when I meet people in town and they assume things about me and think they know me so well just by reading this blog. It's been bugging me. And creeping me out a little. So I haven't written.

But today, here I am, hunkered down during the crazy wind and rain storm we are having tonight. It started where we live in the mid-afternoon. The lights have been flickering on and off for several hours - not a lot, just every once in a while. I'm worried about some of the stuff we have in our yard that might go flying. The winds are wicked strong. I was in the garage and it sounded like the garage door was going to be whisked away.

I'm pretty tired right now, not necessarily because of the pregnancy, but because the last month has been a little crazy busy. Isn't this time of year always this way? I'm feeling great overall, and feeling like it's time I get into some organized exercise of some sort after the start of the new year. Hubby and I want to do marathon training after the baby is born and I doubt my cleaning the house and lugging Boo to and fro counts as hearty exercise.

We're all psyched for the baby. She's growing strong and moving around a lot. Boo loves her already. Today he said he wanted to see her, and he kept saying it while I kept explaining he wouldn't meet her for a few more months. I really love being pregnant, and I am a little sad thinking that this is likely the last time I will be (we've talked about being a two-kid family).

Maybe I will keep this blog after all and just write here and there. There are things I can't write on the family blog that I'd feel more comfortable writing about here, and vice versa. Same goes for my other blogs. Each serves a different purpose, I guess. To blog, to blog...

It's a...

2006-11-07T15:06:00.000-08:00

Sorry to keep you all in suspense! Work is nuts, it's election time, Boo's got more energy than me right now...aaah! :)

So, it's a... GIRL!! Or so they say. Two different technicians (one a 4th year med student, the other an experienced ultrasound technician) said they saw "no boy parts." BUT neither said that they saw the girl parts either...others have said you are supposed to see three white lines or dots, which I am pretty sure I saw in that area, but what do I know?

We are SO excited, but I'm still cautious that it might be a boy. I've always felt it was going to be a girl, but with hormones raging the way they do during pregnancy, what if we're all wrong? I hear too many stories about parents who are told they are going to have a girl at the ultrasound and then come birth time it's hello penis! Of course, we'd love to have another boy too, but the massive planner/organizer in me wants to know FOR SURE, you know?

At least, if it does turn out to be a boy we have all of Boo's old clothes and things. I started buying girl clothes a couple of months ago... is that bad? :)

IT'S A GIRL!! I will come and visit you all soon once the madness of the next few days dies down.

Boy or Girl?

2006-10-28T21:32:00.000-07:00

We find out in a week, or so we hope. I'm anxious/excited/nervous. Everyone of course asks if we're hoping for one or the other sex. We honestly would be delighted with either, but we have both been feeling it's a girl from the get go. We shall see! I'm a little more nervous about the thought of having a girl. Boys are fun and crazy and wacky and wild and pretty predictable - very straightforward. A little chaotic and tiring to raise one in the beginning (the physical versus emotional differences between girls and boys Boo's age always astound me) but then there's later... when I'm a little more scared of raising a girl through her pre-teen, teenage and college years. It really does seem like the old addage that boys are harder to raise now, easier to raise later, and girls are easier to raise now, but harder to raise later, seems true about 80% of the time.

I've admittedly never been one of those women who has always dreamed of having a daughter, although I know I would absolutely love to raise a daughter as much as I would a son. I'm just a little more apprehensive about my own abilities as well as the other pressures and issues involved with raising a girl to be a strong, independent, confident woman. And then there's the shopping issue: I don't think my wallet or my impulses can withstand the amount of super adorable girl schtuff out there - not the frilly cutesy bows and crap mind you, but all the other soft, sweet, adorable designs for girls. I find we are bad with impulse buying for our son as it is!

All that said, my husband and I still think it's a girl, and we'd be overjoyed if it is. I'm giddy with excitement and am just itching to see this baby inside of me, whether a he or a she.

random ramblings

2006-10-26T08:59:00.000-07:00

We find out the sex of the baby next week! Can't wait. Hopefully baby will cooperate and we'll really get to find out. No fun filling up the bladder to be poked and prodded only to not have the baby cooperate. Boo was very cooperative during his ultrasound. He was all: here are my boy parts! Check them out! We also have a photo of him giving us a "rock on" gesture.

Boo is going to be an awesome big brother. He's really taking responsibility with his toys and his stuffed animals lately. He tucks them in, reads to them, gives them kisses, feeds them, has entire conversations with Bear, Giraffe, Elmo and Nemo. He was all excited about hearing the baby's heartbeat "on the radio" again when we went in this week for our monthly appointment.

Work is busy. Very busy. A good, great, happy but a little chaotic busy. I have too many ideas and not enough time (or personnel) to make things happen as quickly as I want them too.

Lots of pregnant mamas around these parts these days! There is a small group of us, some first time and some second and third time mamas-to-be, that is going to be meeting on a regular basis. It's so fun to be talking preggo talk with mamas again. So many of my friends tell me stories of how their second pregnancies went by so fast that they hardly had time to think about the baby. I am the opposite and am a bit giddily obssessed about this new baby that is about to enter our family. Since this will likely be our last child, and my last pregnancy, I want to embrace every minute of it. I love being pregnant, love it love it love it. Even with its aches and pains and weird side effects.

One of the sweetest PDX mamas I have met recently blogged about other people's brats. The other night we were out and one mama got upset at a girl who took a toy away from her son, and she commented on what do you do when you don't know the kid's parents. She was pretty appalled, and I think I nodded sympathetically, but I neglected to tell her that earlier I had seen her own son steal toys twice from my son while my son was playing with them. I also watched as another boy took trains away from my son, watched my son have a little scream, but then proceed to find other toys to play with. I was pretty proud of him for moving on.

Kids don't know how to play - they learn through trial and error, and while we can help guide them through consistent and firm warnings, explanations and such, ultimately it is they who decide their actions and adjust accordingly. While I will intervene if there's a kid who just bullies my kid and others incessantly (or if my kid keeps taking toys from others), I am now learning the fine art of allowing my son to learn how to share and play nicely and how to stick up for himself...by himself. The latter part I don't worry about - if he's pushed, you bet he will push back (he's my kid, after all). If the bully's mom isn't paying attention, usually one loud "I know that he hit (pushed) you honey, but hitting (pushing) back isn't right just because he did it to you first" - usually brings about the embarassed mom out of her state of obliviousness. I would hope that if my son was the bully and I missed it, someone would say something to me. Usually if he's in full tantrum mode, we just leave.

But we've all been there. We don't have a million eyes all around our head, and we're human. So when my friend was going on about this girl who took the toy away from her son, I just had to sit quietly, knowing that she had no clue that her own son had been the toy-stealer for quite some time at the train table that night.

Big Brother

2006-10-17T21:51:00.000-07:00

This weekend, Boo brought us to tears. Out of nowhere, he walked up to my belly, looked at it and said very clearly and confidently:

"Hi baby! I'm your big brother. I love you, baby!"

Then he kissed my belly.

Papa A and I just looked at each other with pure shock/love/joy/amazement/happiness. Boo is so ready to be a big brother. He's going to be a great one.

Two is a fun age

2006-10-15T08:51:00.000-07:00

I love this age that Boo is at. He just says and does things all day long that crack me up or just amuse me.

"Come on people, let's go!" - when waiting in traffic.

"All right! Come on peeps! Let's go home" - when either in the store or in the car going home

"Oh no...Be careful, mommy/daddy!" - anytime we brake anything short of very slowly.

"Oh no...Oh boy..." - when he drops something or something goes wrong

"Oh my goodness"... similar to oh boy, but this one is usually followed by him shaking his head in dismay.

"CATS! They're funny. Cats are funny" - this comes out of nowhere, really, and is followed by a throwback of his head and a giggle fit. Side note: he also thinks every small dog he sees is a kitty cat. The other day at the park a man was walking a small dog by us and Boo looks up and squeals excitedly "oooh look, mama! A kitty cat! Small kitty cat..." The man did not look amused. That's what you get for not getting a real dog, sir :)

"How YOU doin?" - he says that to women mainly, in the same tone that Joey said it on Friends. We're in trouble.

Whenever we leave a store, or anywhere for that matter, he is big on telling everyone "Bye bye! See you soon! Have a good day!" What a polite boy.

Boo is REALLY big on hugs and kisses right now. He'll just look at us and say "I want to kiss mommy/daddy" and he'll plant a big one on us. He gives kisses all day long. It's very cute. He kisses his Bear and he also gives our dog kisses. Bear is his best pal, next to our dog. He talks to Bear like he's real, and bosses him around a little, telling him what to do and what not to do. Oh yes, he's ready to be Big Brother :)

He is also really big on telling us that he loves us. It will come out of nowhere, like the kisses: "I love you mommy/daddy!" Aww... we love this age.

What a Wonderful World...?

2006-10-08T21:45:00.000-07:00

When I was younger, just hearing the words to John Lennon's "Imagine" made me pause, reflect and cry inside. Thinking about the lyrics today has the same effect, and everytime something horrible happens in the world, his voice and those words, those perfect imperfect words, echo in the record player in my head (yes, I said record player).

North Korea just performed a nuclear test (reports still unconfirmed as I write this). Lettuce was just linked today to cases of E-coli, in addition to spinach links. Last week three disturbing deadly school schootings across America. Dubya is still in office. Each day we lose more and more Americans and innocent Iraqi civilians in a war that is sparking more terror in the world. Corporations have all gone to shit, and so has our beloved Earth. It's a mad, mad world, and since having children, I realize that I no longer think of how these crises affect me but how it will alter their lives in the future. What can we do today to make sure they have a future?

In high school, I met a couple who decided not to have children because they couldn't bear the thought of bringing a child into such a horror wrought world. When people talk of easier yesteryears, I think they have their blinders on and are slipping into amnesia mode. There were no easy yesteryears. Every generation has its crises, its wars, its seemingly incurable illnesses, its flawed and failed leaders. I do not believe the times in which we live are any more difficult than when I was a child, or when my mother was a child, or when my great-grandmother was a child. The issues merely morph into other, more modern issues, and humanity once again must decide how to handle, how to cope, how to persevere and move forward for the good of humanity.

I admit that sometimes I lay awake at night and cry just thinking about the world events of the day. I've been called a hard ass and a tough cookie, but I am pretty much a sissy when it comes to these things. Sometimes the amount of pain and suffering I see happening all around us hurts so very god damn fucking much and sometimes what hurts more is knowing that it will not take one person, but millions, and it will not take one year, but lifetimes, before thorough effective change can happen. And by then, there will be other crises for the world to face.

On a daily basis I have come to make peace with the fact that our world, our leaders, and we - ourselves - are permanently flawed. I face each day knowing I have no idea what the day will hold, knowing that I can't protect my son and my husband and my friends and family as I wish I could. I live each day just trying to do good, to bring good into the lives of others, and appreciating all of the good that others have done for me and my family. I have shitty days, but no matter what, my problems in life in general aren't as big as the problems of the world, so I live each day taking time to regret, be sad for, and be pissed off about the little things that happen in my own life...but then at the end of each day, I just let go. Who gives a shit if I was late on a car payment or totally made an ass of myself at a conference or fed my child too many Goldfish that day when somewhere in the world a mother lost a child, and somewhere else in the world a family lost their home and all of their belongings, and somewhere else in the world a family is praying for a drop of rain so they will have water again. Perspective.

Still, deep inside I ridiculously wish for a day when all is right in the world. When every single living breathing human on earth can co-exist peacefully with the environment and other creatures. For one day, when there are no murders, no natural disasters, no accidents, no lies, no malice, no evil entities in power, no bruised knees, no prejudices, no judgments, and no frowns. Just one day. I pray that my children are alive to see that day. I dream that they are stewards of the hope and positive action that will steer the world toward that day. That they will be one of the millions who decide to band together and make that day happen. I hope that they grow up understanding that the world is flawed, but that each day holds value, truth and happiness, and most of all, purpose.

Belly's Out of the Closet

2006-09-27T14:31:00.000-07:00

Now that the belly's out of the closet (and into maternity clothes already, mind you), I think it's okay for me to go ahead and blog about my pregnancy. Everything about it is different from my first, and when people ask me how, the one-two-punch combo of mama/preggo brain kicks in and I can't form the words.

First, I was never nauseaus with Boo. I felt great and LOVED every minute of being preggers with him. I ran into my fifth month of pregnancy with him (okay, it was really a jog every couple of weeks or so by the fourth month) and still did a little weight training. I was ravenous from the moment that stick gave me the positive sign and ate cake and ice cream EVERY SINGLE DAY of my pregnancy. I worked like a maniac and got tired once in a while (I still remember the first nap I took back then... felt very guilty). I still had my former ass, the absence of love handles and my feet were still the same size.

Fast forward to two and a half years later and here I sit, haven't worked out in quite some time and find the need to take a break after simply walking a lap around the park. I just woke up from my two- to three-times-a-week short nap when Boo is napping. Weeks 7 through 10 of my pregnancy were exhausting: I was wiped out all the time, had bouts of nausea that took over (never actually got sick, thank goodness) from time to time, and I am just now starting to dive into my love of food again after finding that nothing at all sounded good to eat for a few weeks (that was rough - I love food! And yet I didn't want to eat any of it. It pissed me off). I'm wearing maternity clothes already because my ass never really went back to the way it was and there's the lovely new layer of - well, let's just call it skin and not fat for now - all over that I never really got rid of after giving birth to Boo. I'm not even working as hard as I used to and suddenly the days whiz by me.

I suppose having a two year old home all the time to take care of does take up my days, and cause exhaustion on its own. But I am glad I am finally starting to get my energy back AND my love of food, because I was really worried there for a while.

The baby has a fast heartbeat. Hubby thinks it is a girl. I thought so, but now I am not so sure. I don't know why but I also have this unrealistic fear of twins. Neither of us have twins in our families but for some reason, the fear is there. We've only caught one heartbeat... but you never know... ack. I'm very petite. Twins would knock me on my ass I am sure for the last three months of pregnancy. Ok, must stop writing about it.

I have the nesting bug BAD, but mainly because we have lived in this house now for a year and a half and I think it's time to actually truly get the rooms all together. It looks fine, but it's nowhere near where I would call it being completely decorated.

Crap. Boo is waking up. How will life be like with two little ones in the house? I'm eager and excited to find out!

Girls' Weekend Dish

2006-09-20T22:24:00.000-07:00

I love weddings. I love everything about them: the families gathering together, drawing in friends who haven't seen each other for years, the cake, the flowers, the vows, the dancing, the invitations (surprise), the love sweet love... My pal J got married last Saturday in NYC on a roofdeck overlooking the city and it was pure magic. She and her new groom are perfect for each other, and their families couldn't have been happier. The groom's brother gave a speech that had everyone in tears. It was evident how close the two are, and right then I think it really truly hit me just how special it would be to have another boy and for Ethan to have a brother to grow up with. We would honestly be elated with either a girl or a boy, but for some reason that night, I just felt the connection between those brothers and thought "that's it, I'm having another boy!" Of course, I bought a onesie while I was there that is a little more feminine than masculine, but whatever.

So while there was no drinking on my part this past weekend, there was plenty of drinking by others, mainly my drinking proxy, Lee (names have been substituted to protect the drunk). Lee is one of my best gal pals from high school, although we only became friends while we were in college. She is one in a million, and I'm very lucky to have her in my life...and thankful that she took me up on the trip in lieu of A who stayed home with Boo and the dog. A and Boo were going to go, but we're taking three big trips this year, and it's too much to ask folks to watch our dog for that long. Plus, we only have enough energy to fly and travel around with Boo twice this year.

It was a grand long weekend. We spent one day flying and then had dinner with my brother-in-law and his wife; then we spent a whole day shopping in SoHo and went to a cocktail party later that night where we met up with some college folks I haven't seen since graduation; then we spent the next day walking all over Brooklyn (I've already mentioned my love of the place, right?), and then went to the wedding that night. We stayed at the wedding until around midnight, hailed a cab (the driver totally didn't want to take us to Brooklyn but he did - thanks cabbie!), went to bed around 2am and then got up at 4am in order to catch a ride to the airport for our 6am flight back. It was a quick trip but a relaxing one. Much needed.

A and Boo had a great time at home. It was my first time away from him since he was a baby, and this time the transition when I got back was a little tougher for poor Boo. A was tired, understandably so, but I think Boo was confused. He kept saying "My mommy!" and clinging to me the first two days I was back. I kept reassuring him I wasn't going away again, but I was cherishing the clingy hugs since I missed them so while I was gone.

For me, the first day there wasn't so hard. The other two days weren't terribly difficult, but I felt the pull of missing Boo much more. The flight home was hard. There were kids all over the airport and a ton of them on our flights home, and I just wanted to hug my little Boo and hear his sweet little voice rattling off all the things he did that day with Daddy. There were so many times while Lee and I were walking around where I would think "Boo would love this" or "A would love this" and I wished they were there. I had a fabulous time and spending gal pal time with Lee was so much fun, but I still missed my family. I missed my dog. I'm such a sucker and can't stand to be away from them. We're all really super close, like super glue close.

I think the next girls' weekend will be nearby, like the coast or the mountains. And maybe not for a while. I can live off of girls' night outs instead for the next few months just fine but it'll be a while before I can work up to being gone for a weekend, much less three nights away like this past trip. It's fun to be away and get a full night's sleep, but really, I just love being home.