Mommy McGrady

My Twilight

2009-01-22T10:59:00.000-08:00

I'd never given much thought to how I would react [to my reading Twilight] - though I'd had reason enough in the last few months - but even if I had, I would not have imagined it like this.*

As a mother of 2 young children, a wife to a wonderful husband, and at the very least, a 38 year old woman - I did not think that I would (or could) become as addicted to a series of four books meant for teenage girls as I invariably did. To put it simply, I am obsessed. The author has depicted a delicious fantasy for young adults and by luck (?) the not so young adults. It is a teenage love story between and human girl and a vampire, Edward. Ah....Edward.

I first heard Edward's name on my sister's Facebook page. In fact, that was all she listed as her status. Just Edward. I also heard a lot of my other female friends talking about the book(s) and how they were so hooked so I thought I would give them a try, not really realizing what I was getting myself into. After starting the first book I completely understood.

Twilight can suck the life out of you (pun intended). I found myself reading the books at ALL costs. Cold cuts were served for dinner with raw carrots (no preparation needed and yet still a healthy meal - at least that was my rationale for skimping on family dinners so I could read). Laundry was on the back burner. House cleaning was non existent. Luckily for my husband, he was out of town for the week on a business trip so he would not have to endure being ignored while I read (although there is a benefit to having your mate close by to satisfy an urge/itch/need that the book seems to create from time to time - I called my husband on his last day away and told him to plan on having a "date" that night - I was a little worked up).

I am typically someone who needs to be in bed by 9:30 and asleep shortly thereafter. However I found myself reading till 3am two nights in a row and then till midnight the following two nights. These were the choices I was making. To hell with the fact that my children wake up at 6am and that I am on my own for the week. I was an addict making decisions. Bad decisions. But they felt so good.

After getting in way over my head I realized that I was not alone. There were others just like me. Not only were most of my friends reading (or had read) the Twilight series, there were Facebook groups to join, a website devoted to

Twilight Moms, and I am sure countless of other avenues to explore (Twilight / Stephenie Meyer has over 5 million hits on Google). There was an outlet to talk about how wonderful Edward was - to share the fantasy - with other adults (I use this term loosely here).

It must be said that each of these books are about 500 pages or more - the last one alone is 756. I read them all in a week and a half. Yep. That's 2,446 pages total. That's a lot of pages. That's a whole lot of reading and whole lot of nothing else. These books seemed to call my name whenever I was in the house. I would walk indoors with the kids in the afternoon and I could feel them on my nightstand. I would look at the clock and realize - DAMN - I have to prepare (remember - not cook) dinner and get the kids to sleep. It would be a long time before I could cuddle up in bed and read....for hours. UGH. I managed to get through the week mostly reading and scraping by on my motherly duties (for the record my children were never in harm's way or neglected - a little extra viewing of PBS programing is not the end of the world).

After finishing the series I was lost. I wanted more. Thirsted for more. A fellow Edward devotee directed me to Stephenie Meyer's website that has about 250 pages online of a fifth book that is no longer going to be published (due to an asshole who ruined everything for everyone by illegally releasing them online before the author finished the book herself - I am hoping against all hope the author changes her mind and finishes the novel). This book was going to be Twilight from Edward's point of view (the original is in Bella's, the female protagonist). To the non follower, I know it sounds ridiculous to pretty much read the same book from someone else's perspective, but to become privy to Edward's thoughts, feelings and desires......ooh....I am all a flutter. At this point, I must acknowledge I am past the point of a reader. I am a lunatic.

But I am still hungry (my eyes are no longer amber.....they are black with thirst). Luckily there is more. Icing on our Twilight cakes if you will. Twilight the movie is still in the theaters (released in November 2008) giving me/us an opportunity to actually see......Edward. Ah.....Edward. Robert Pattinson does not disappoint. I will say that the movie was delightfully campy. There was much giggling from me and my Twilight mom friends who went to see it this past week - laughter at things that I cannot imagine were supposed to be funny. Thank goodness there is a new director for the next Twilight film - yes, another movie - yes, I am going to see that one as well.

If I needed any further proof of my crazy lady status, I need not look any further than my next action. I have gone to the highest court - Oprah. I sent her an email asking her to produce a show for Twilight moms/women. Explaining that there is something here. That normal women are shirking their obligations for a little taste of Edward and the entire Twilight fantasy. Strangely, I am not embarrassed by this. I see the show in two parts. First, the author talking about the series and discussing the second wave of followers - women (not teenage girls). Then the cast from the movie can make an appearance. I, of course, am invited to appear on the show. Hopefully I can bring some friends.

So now I find myself at a loss. I have nothing left to feed my addiction. For awhile I was picking up the fourth book rereading the last chapters - but I have just loaned it out. I have started reading a new book - which is very good - but I feel like I am cheating on Twilight. I know that if I'd never [picked up Twilight], I wouldn't be facing [this longing now]. But, terrified as I [am], I [cannot] bring myself to regret the decision. When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it's not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end*

* Italicized quotes are from Stephenie Meyer's book Twilight.

Lots of Little Conversations

2008-11-11T16:07:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite things to do with my children is to have special one on one conversations with them as I tuck them into bed at night. It started a year or so ago with Kelan when I wanted him to know I thought he was a wonderful kid - especially on those days I lost my temper (see Some Days Are Harder Than Others). I now ask the kids about their day and if they had fun. I tell them I think they are great (consequently Kelan started responding, I think you're a great Mommy). I laughed so hard the first time he said it that it has become a ritual with us. I know he says it to make me laugh, but it is still nice to hear. Our little conversations have become a safe place to talk about things. My hope is that they know they can always come to me - with ANYTHING. That I am there to listen to them - and offer advice if needed or desired.

Last weekend I was faced with discussing a hard topic (pun intended) with Kelan. His penis. It started actually at the dinner table. Kelan was naked - which he usually is during dinner (so is Lauren...we pick our battles...this one does not make the list). I had not noticed, but Kelan was playing with himself under the table and became hard. This was not the first time he played with himself, but it was the first time he asked me about it. Why is my penis hard?

Now it must be said that I actually was prepared for this - amazing since I feel so unprepared for everything else I do as a mom. I had taken a sex education class for parents a couple of years ago that focused on talking with your kids about sex (see Wigawee Wigawee). One of the main concepts is to have lots of little conversations with your kids at an early age creating the foundation for an ongoing dialogue. Another key element is not to be embarrassed. This tends to be a little more difficult, but I try to imagine I am just explaining how things (other things) work. And for the record - Dan was out of town. This question was for ME.

My first response to Kelan (in a non judgemental voice), was that is what happens when you play with your penis. But we do not play with our penis at the dinner table. We can do that in your room or the bathroom. He still seemed concerned that it was hard, so I explained that it was normal. That it happens to Daddy and to his friends that are boys. And that if he wanted to, we could read the What's the Big Secret book (an introduction to sex book for young kids) at bedtime. This seemed to help and we were able to finish dinner.

Later that night when Kelan was getting ready for nighttime, he grabbed the book and jumped into bed. I think he got a little embarrassed, because he then decided that he did not want to read it (we have read it hundreds of times) but would rather turn off the light and talk about his penis. He started asking about the bones in his body because he thought there was one in his penis. I believe he was really trying to understand how it could be so hard. We talked for awhile, both of us fully engaged. Him, full of questions. Me, trying my best to answer.

This is one of my many jobs as Kelan's - and Lauren's - mom. I have to be open to everything they need to ask me. It is the only way they can learn that I am a resource (if I will not talk about some topics, they may not come back to ask me on other ones...slowly closing that communication door). So I am here Kelan and Lauren, let's talk!

Lauren Unsupervised

2008-10-30T17:53:00.001-07:00

I have to believe that these markers are non toxic (I think she used the marker like a lollipop - her tongue and teeth are orange!)

Yes - this IS vaseline (what does this say about her mom when she grabs the camera before addressing the "issue")!

Granny Pants Redux

2008-10-11T21:56:00.000-07:00

Tonight I had the luxury of three hours to myself. Dan is out of town and the kids were at a Parent's Night Out with preschool friends between 5-8pm. What did I do with my time? I chose to go to Costco. I know. Loser. If that was not bad enough, I decided to rectify the underwear situation (see Granny Pants). Never mind that this is the same place I purchased the offending underwear. And would you believe it? I accidently bought the same granny pants.

There are no words. Why I even bother to write about it - I do not know. How did this happen? What is wrong with me? I spent 15-20 minutes examining all of the underwear selections. Seriously. I did not have the kids with me, so I took my time to find the perfect style. I even opened a couple of packages to really get an understanding of what I was dealing with. Sadly, I neglected to open up all of them.

I liked the Calvin Klein bikini, but it was twice the cost, so NO (I have got to drop this cheap attitude when choosing underwear) and the Maidenform were nice - but they had some stripes on them I thought my show through light pants. I come to the French Dressing's it-se-bit-se brand of bikini underwear and the picture looks good (i.e. I can see her bellybutton, unlike looking at me in my granny pants where my bellybutton - and lower back - is covered). I soon realize that this is the same brand as my last (awful) panty purchase, so I put them down and go back to the Calvin's. I start feeling guilty about the price again, and then realize the fabric content. I am really a cotton girl when it comes to everyday wear. And here comes the big mistake. I pick up the damn French Dressing's it-se-bit-se "bikini" (I use quotes here, because these are NOT bikinis - they are tents) and check the fabric content - good, cotton. Unfortunately, the package was really secure so I (fatal move) just put it in my cart and continued on.

When I get home I open up the package of "bikinis" and am completely stunned. I have bought the exact same underwear. Granny pants. Fucker. Clearly I need intervention. I cannot buy my underwear at Costco. I cannot buy my underwear at Costco. Einstein's definition of insanity comes to mind: doing the same thing over and over expecting different results.

Granny Pants

2008-10-02T11:43:00.000-07:00

I went to a new rolfer last week for lower back issues. Anyone who has been to a rolfer before, knows the drill. You pretty much are in your underwear for the session - especially at the beginning because the rolfer is examining your structure (i.e. you are standing in your underwear while he looks at your body) before he begins to work on you. Being in my underwear isn't a problem - I have two kids (read: given birth in a hospital where all of you is there for everyone to see) and Dan went to college with my rolfer and swears he is gay. It was my choice of underwear for inevitable public viewing that gave me pause. Granny pants.

To be fair - I do not have much to choose from. For some reason I have become super cheap and refuse to buy new underwear until it is threadbare (my husband is the same way, but still I think mine are more worse for wear). I have several pair that I bought at Target 5 years ago while in Arizona after my luggage was stolen that are still in the rotation - okay, I am embarrassed just typing that. On the other hand I have some VERY expensive fancy thong underwear (which includes a $75 pair that my mom got on sale for me - yes, they are very fancy) for special occasions. A rolfing session seemed an inappropriate setting for a thong. So I decided on a relatively new pair (bought a little over a year ago) that might just be the biggest pair of panties I own. Seriously. When I took them out of the box, I saw Dan's face and his expression seemed to convey, how many pairs of underwear is that??? The thing is, these underwear were a mistake. I bought them at Costco (because I am cheap, remember) and I thought I was buying bikini style. This was not to be the case. They were french cut (which for the record sounds fancy and hip, but it is not, please be forewarned and do not make this mistake). For some reason I did not return the underwear. I became a martyr - I vowed to wear them until they fell apart (sadly I am learning that they may just be around for a long time - remember the underwear from five years ago that are still with me???).

Back to my rolfing session. As I am standing in front of my rolfer - in my yoga bra (excellent choice) and bloomers (horrible choice) - I am feeling like my underwear is the elephant in the room. They are so enormous, how can we not talk about them? Yet here I stood facing him, turning side to side and (ugh) my back to him (this just might be the worst view - the fabric covers my entire butt and some of my lower back - the Amish cover less).

Finally he is done with examining my structure and I can lie on the table. Yet now I am lying face down with a parachute on my ass. The thing is he is very professional - and I really believe he could care less and is more focused on my structural problems. But when he politely asked if he could roll down the elastic waist of my underwear so he could really work on the muscles in my lower back I lost it. I started laughing hysterically - I could not stop. I now have proof that my underwear is too big - he needed to ROLL IT DOWN.

If this was not bad enough, I proceed to tell my rolfer why I am laughing. You heard me. I am discussing my large underwear with him. The fact that I chose this pair over a ratty ancient pair and a fancy thong. That these are my choices. I am crying of laughter at this point. Why can I NOT shut up? Stories and descriptions of panties keep leaving my mouth while my internal dialog is saying, SHUT UP you granny pants wearing fool!

When I return home, Dan asks how it was. Great - sort of. I explain what happened. Dan is laughing at me (I really do not think with me). The thing is - I used to not even wear underwear. However, that would still leave me in a predicament at the rolfer. And although my rolfer swears it was the perfect rolfing underwear, I still think I need a couple of new pairs.

Triathlon Joy

2008-08-18T21:50:00.000-07:00

Thanks to my husband, I found the joy last Sunday. I had all but given up competing in the Danskin Triathlon this year - but Dan was insistent that if I did not, I would regret it. This would be my fourth triathlon - so in it of itself, not a stressful event for me - but life surrounding the week before seemed too chaotic and tense for me to devote the time and energy needed. The thing is - Dan was right. Once at the event, I was at peace. I was not nervous or anxious as I had been in years past. I was able to enjoy being in a crowd of over 3700 women (all shapes, sizes, age and color) competing - together.

I love organized races (I use the term race loosely here - I am always participating in these types of events for the experience, not the win). I always feel like I am part of something bigger somehow. The euphoria gets amplified and the feeling of accomplishment is wonderful.

The Danskin (as we triathletes call it) is a half mile swim, about a 12 mile bike and a 3 mile run. This I can do - with a bit of training. A bit is all I seemed to get this summer with the demands of my children, my high school reunion in Houston (read: a week in weather so HOT you could scarcely be outside or run the risk of passing out - so no training) and family reunion in Maine (read: a week in cooler weather right after my Houston trip, but now I am off my schedule and am being lazy - so really no training). If this was my only interruption - I do not think I would have gone crazy the week before. Sadly, it was this particular week that nearly sent me to the loony bin (which actually would have been nice, no one to take care of, people taking care of me, no responsibilities...but I digress).

Hell week (a term usually associated with fraternities' hazing week for new pledges) is what I have knighted this time - it started Friday, August 8th. I arrive home from Portland, Maine with Dan, Kelan and Lauren Friday evening. Long flight. Long day. I am done. Saturday my extended family celebrates my grandmother's 91st birthday (see Rockbridge Times and Ahead of the Wave). Sunday is Kelan's 4th birthday. I have invited over 60 people for a BBQ in the park. Meanwhile, the kids are TOTALLY off their sleep schedule and are getting up throughout the night. Lauren has graduated herself from her crib and is insistent on sleeping in her bed. I am trying to get to the preschool work I have been neglecting while on vacation (I serve on the board of my children's preschool and am chair of Kelan's PreK class). Kelan has started a week long woodworking day camp which he could not attend without me the first day (Monday) - so I had to stay in the room preventing Lauren from interrupting the class. Dan was contemplating a new job and we were going back and forth on what this would mean for his career and how it would impact our family. My house is a wreck and we have no groceries. I learn on Thursday afternoon that my next door neighbors are removing (read: killing) a 50 year plus old beautiful pine tree in their back yard on FRIDAY! I knew they wanted to do this, but did not know it was this soon - I had been trying to get them to change their minds. Friday I got to hear the chainsaw during quiet time. When I finally summoned the courage to take a peek at the devastation, it was worse than I could have believed. Imagine my shock when I realized that they had cut down an entirely different tree than the one discussed and that they were now moving on to the tree in question. I lost it. Completely. I ran outside with the children to cry in front of my neighbors. They were not there. I cried so hard I could not breathe. Another neighbor came over to make sure I was okay - she thought that Dan had died. I cried for an hour before I pulled myself and my kids out of the house to seek support at a friend's. I was a wreck. Keep in mind I am trying to find time to train this week after a two week hiatus. All I can think is that I cannot do the Danskin. I do not have the energy or time - I could not find the joy. Dan felt otherwise.

I struggled to get my race day information the Saturday before the race. What a chore. I had to drive over to Bellevue through many road closures. A confusing expo once I got there. A gruesome drive home through football traffic and Hemp Fest traffic (will I ever get home?). Sunday morning has arrived - race day. Dan drops me off and finds a place to park. Suddenly I am calm. I walk with the other athletes towards the transition area. I begin to relax and start to enjoy being up so early on a beautiful morning.

For the next couple of hours I am swimming, biking and running. I have a personal cheering section (Dan, Kelan, Lauren and my mom). I am witnessing women competing in their first triathlon, their tenth. Women supporting each other - not competing against. My endorphins have kicked in. I sprint the final stretch of the run and cross the finish line. I have a grin from ear to ear. Thank you, Dan, I found my triathlon joy.

Best Way to Spend our Money...

2008-07-03T14:20:00.000-07:00

I have been looking for a patio table and chair set for some time and have been coming up empty handed. Either it is cheap and looks terrible or it is perfect and way out of our price range. I recently fell in love with a friend's table (I just know she spent thousands on it....) and since I saw hers, everything else I saw in our price range ranked in the why bother category. My search ended today. I found (with help) and bought the perfect patio table and chairs for our family (banish the fact that we have yet to build our patio).

Yesterday I realized that I needed help in locating what I envisioned so I emailed a good friend of mine who is great at finding things. Seriously. She has an eye for great antique/used pieces and knows a deal when she sees one. I wanted to ask her about places I should look (clearly I was looking in all the wrong places). Last night she called me on her way to yoga and said that she walked by this amazing patio set (cast aluminum, weathered look) at a consignment store. It sounded perfect (and I totally trust her taste) and knew that if she was calling me I needed to immediately check it out or it would be gone.

Karma was with me today (it is about time - of course now that I am complaining about Karma something else will come bite me in the ass and I will be back in the red...). I was supposed to stay at home all day because the house painters were painting doors and they needed to remain open while drying. Well, they cancelled because it was raining - so we headed off to the consignment store!

Immediately I knew this was our table (it was outside on the sidewalk in front of the store). I walked in and asked how much the set was. The man asked if I was Denise. Huh? Uh, no. Long story short, Denise had been looking at the table too and was supposed to come in first thing in the morning (the store opens at 10am, it was 10:40am) to buy it. Somewhat deflated, I said that I wanted to be honest and fair and that if he felt he needed to wait, that would be okay. Meanwhile I called Dan to ask him his thoughts. Never mind that I just had a conversation with him this morning saying that I think we are going to have to dip into savings to help pay for the house painting we are having done. Never mind that we do not even have a patio to put patio furniture on. This was OUR table.

Now, it must be said that Dan never tells me no. Never. It is not all about money related matters either. A usual response is whatever makes my pie happy (I am pie in this scenario). When it comes to financial decisions, I am usually met with if you feel this is the best way to spend our money. It is the perfect way for him to make the decision (by not making it - he is a smart man/husband). It is a win win situation for him. He does not have to say no (and get grief) and he trusts that the guilt associated with any big purchase will guide my decision making process. The weight of the choice becomes mine alone. Lovely.

I am caught because the final say is mine and the clock is ticking (Denise could walk in the door any minute). I decide to go for it - a table like this will not come around again for $500 (yes, that is the price for the table AND chairs - I know... it is a steal) and it seats EIGHT! I tell him that I want to buy it if he will sell it to me. He wants to, but I think he started to feel bad. Then the shopkeeper's wife looked over at her husband (they are a husband/wife team) and said, honey, if you're basing a sale on what someone told you versus a paying customer who is right here, then I will sell it it her. I got a mortgage to pay. The sale is made. The table is ours.

As I am loading the kids into the car I see a woman and her friend walk up to the table and closely examine it. I swear she mouths words like, this is the table I was telling you about. It is Denise, I just know it. Kelan asks why is that woman touching our table. I say it is because she likes it, but privately I am thinking she is about to learn the bad news. It was definitely the best way to spend our money today.

Poop

2008-06-23T21:12:00.000-07:00

I am so tired of poop. There is always poop happening in my life. Today was no different - although the circumstances were harder. Let me explain.

This morning I decided that I would take Kelan and Lauren to the beach - never mind that the blue skies I saw early this morning have turned to gray. It is summer goddammit, I am going to the beach. I load the kids in the car (after painstakingly applying sunblock, putting on swimsuits, gathering up snacks/water, a change of clothes, a towel, the beach toys, and Kelan's favorite dump truck) and head to Golden Gardens. We get to the beach and I unload everything and let the kids run free. Kelan looks up at me - Mommy, I have to poop. Great. The bathroom is way over on the other side of the beach, and I have Lauren plus all of our belongings (not only all the above mentioned items, but also my diaper bag that has my wallet in it). I think for a minute. Kelan, come with me, we are going to go poop in the bushes.

I walk with Kelan and Lauren over to some bushes that are close by so I can keep an eye on our stuff. Kelan, showing extreme willingness, obliges me and drops his pants, holds my hands and leans back into a squat. Lauren is standing next to me as a witness. I was so proud of Kelan for doing this outside. Really I was. This could have been a disaster (lots of crying and complaining - he likes his privacy when it comes to pooping). But he went with the flow and released an enormous load. Although I had not quite thought ahead - I should have dug a hole so I could have buried it. Hmmmm... what do I do with it (no ,I did not have a bag - and I did not like picking up my dog's poop years ago, I cannot imagine how I would feel picking up Kelan's). I went on a search for a big stick or rock to help flick the poop further into the bush (I cannot believe this is how I am spending my morning). Kelan and Lauren are watching me do this and asking many questions. What are doing? Trying to bury the poop. Why are you burying the poop? So no one steps in it. Why would someone step in it? And so on. Finally, mission accomplished.

Just before we leave the beach I am changing Lauren from her wet suit to a dry outfit. I am about to remove her swim diaper when I realize that she has pooped. Perfect. Did I mention that she has an incredible diaper rash? Oh, and she has been sitting in the wet sand for quite sometime so there is tons of sand in the diaper as well. So now I am wiping poop and sand from Lauren's raw and angry bottom while she is screaming for me to stop. Where is that hose when you need it?

This afternoon I decided that we would go to one of the park's wading pools (I am also thinking that this is my chance to make sure all the sand is out of Lauren's bottom - I was not sure if I had gotten it all throughout the screaming earlier at the beach). I load the kids in the car - again (after applying sunblock, putting on swimsuits, gathering up snacks/water, a change of clothes, a towel, the beach toys, and Kelan's favorite dump truck - again). We get to the pool only to realize - no pool. There has been a mix up with the Park's Department. Perfect. Kelan runs around in the empty wading pool with his truck. Lauren goes to sit in the...sand (her poor bottom). Kelan then comes up to me - Mommy, I have to poop. I think to myself - you have got to be kidding me.

Luckily there is a restroom at the park (why are all public toilets so gross?). Kelan proceeds to strip down (he likes to poop naked - how I managed to bypass this at the beach, I do not know). So now I am walking in and out of the restroom to keep an eye on Lauren and our stuff while Kelan is singing on the toilet happily pooping.

I guess I should not complain about the poop. On the bright side, Kelan is telling me he has to poop and he does not have any accidents. And both kids do not seem to have any issues with their bowels. These are positive things. Poop is good.

Kinda Crunchy

2008-06-16T13:38:00.000-07:00

Last night as Dan and I were getting into bed, Dan brushed the crumbs? from our sheets before he laid down. I knew the kids had been playing in our bed and I thought Kelan may have gotten some dirt in the bed so I asked Dan what it was. He did not know, but he thought the sheets were kinda crunchy. Eew. So gross. And quite frankly, a little embarrassing. Yet, here I am publicly writing/telling everyone about it.

I started to think back, when had I last washed my sheets? Well, I know I had been in the habit of washing them when Kelan peed in the bed. Which - when he was coming down every night to sleep with me - was often, so I knew my sheets were getting cleaned at least once or twice a week. That got me thinking, when was it that Kelan stopped crawling into bed with me and Dan at night? Oh my god, it was a month or so ago - which means... oh my god, my sheets are really really really dirty. Eew. So gross. Needless to say, my sheets are in the washer today - on hot with bleach.

It is funny, though. Since having children, my standards have changed. Just today I used my own shirt to wipe Kelan's nose. I also watched (not prevented) Lauren dip her rice cake in the sand/water and eat it (I noticed another mom watch her do this as well. She made a face as she scanned the moms at the beach to see if one of them was going to come and stop the buffet. I did not). I would think that the taste and texture of the sand alone would be a deterrent. Nope.

As a parent, I guess my gross sheets are on par with everything else. Kids are messy. I'm always wiping something. But for tonight, my sheets will be clean.

Mommy's Bed

2008-06-01T20:58:00.000-07:00

For better or worse my bed (uh...me and Dan's bed) is used for many activities. One of my favorites, other than being sound asleep for about 9 uninterrupted hours (which NEVER happens - ever), is when Kelan and Lauren crawl into bed with me and cuddle in the morning. I would like to emphasize cuddle, I am not a fan of the mommy attention tango they do where kicking and climbing on me is involved. We like to snuggle close and sing (I have many songs floating around in my head from my 13 wonderful years at an all girls camp in Tennessee). We usually start with "Way Up in the Sky" - a good morning song that has hand motions that the kids love to sing with me.

I love the weekends even more because Dan is home in the morning and it is wonderful to have us all there together. Plus I like it when Dan sings with the kids, because it is funny to hear one of our songs sung off key with deleted and made up verses. But that is part of the moment too, the kids do not seem to notice, much less mind, and they are so happy to have Daddy with them.

Mommies' beds in general must be magnetic - it draws all kids in. To this day I am still drawn to my own mother's bed when I am in her house. This is where some of our best conversations are. Maybe the bed is the heart of the family. You are safe, sound, comfortable and close.

The Good, Bad and Ugly (Hair)

2008-05-14T21:33:00.000-07:00

I do not think my hairdresser likes me. Actually that is not true. I think she is indifferent to me. This and the fact that she cannot style my hair stresses me out (however the cut is great after a couple of weeks). I cannot get past it - I HATE getting my haircut.

The thing is, I have to have good hair - it is a sickness. I would rather practice yoga naked on national TV with good hair than fully clothed with bad. My hair (for better or worse) can control my mood. Just last week I had to endure the trauma. I become incredibly tense before I go and then remain in that state until I can come home and inspect then wash my hair.

As I wait in the reception area, I silently practice my clear instructions (I like my bangs below my eyebrows. I like a blunt cut. I like the longer pieces in front.). Additionally I transform myself into a quiet, reserved non conversational type person (this is my superpower) so I do not have to talk to someone who does not even want to talk to me. Seriously. She asks me questions, but by the time I answer, she has already moved on. You can tell because she is actually looking somewhere else when I speak and then I get the fake/forced laugh when I have not even said anything funny.

I used to really like getting my hair cut. It was girl time - even when I was with my former hairdresser Robert (see Trader Joes) - she was so much fun. I always left feeling pretty and happy with all the hysterical conversation. (Note: I switched hairdressers because I needed a change. I went through several hairdressers before I found my current stylist - I would also like to note that they were/are all female out of respect to Robert. If I was going to cheat on him, it could not be with another man).

My visit last week met my expectations (which were incredibly low). I thought maybe if I arrive with good hair, she could see what it should look like. For the record, I hot roll my hair every day and use a hair thickener product for increased volume. Hell, I use a volume shampoo. I like lift, volume and a style (and no - my hair does not look like a meringue). I soon would realize this was all for nothing.

I went through my instructions - and I have to say I am quite nice when I do this. It is an art form to appear pleasant and likeable when telling someone what to do). I then become mute and hope for the best. The cut is done and she begins to blow dry. She is reaching for products called smoothing serum and hair straightener. Ugh! She is pulling my hair down as she dries it to get that extra flat look. I could not be uglier. But hey, I can always wash my hair - she is just wasting product and her time (I never book a haircut before I have to do anything - it is always right before I go home to bed). Then I realize that my bangs are hovering above my eyebrows. Perfect. I look like an asshole.

In 2 or 3 weeks I will be happy. Until then my perfect husband knows not to even mention the word hair around me - and even then, he does not. Now if I did not already sound like a crazy lady, here is the proof: I have made my next haircut appointment with the same hairdresser. Safe to say, I am not looking forward to it.

Cake

2008-04-29T22:21:00.000-07:00

I am very fortunate to have many wonderful girlfriends in my life, but I am moved to write about one in particular - Cake (so named by Kelan who could not pronounce Kate when he learned to say her name. Kate actually loves being called Cake so we went with it and she hopes he continues to call her Cake well into his adult life). In fact, I must thank Kelan for bringing her into my life. Kate - and her family, the Smiths - have been a wonderful addition into the McGradys' lives and I will always be grateful for them.

Kate and I met at the Ballard toddler room when Kelan and her son, Mac (read more about Kelan and Mac: Stating the Obvious), were a little over a year. The boys would sometimes play together and we would chat. We continued to see each other occasionally over the next several months in this toddler room - although never exchanging numbers or planning a playdate. Soon we realized that we were both pregnant (due dates about a month apart). We ran into each other again when it was about two weeks to her due date. I decided to ask for her number - anticipating it would be good to make friends with someone about to be in the same situation as myself.

We did not see each other again for a couple of months and in that time she had her daughter, Libby, and I had Lauren a month later. I came up for air when Lauren was a month old and emailed Kate for the first time. We planned our first playdate with our toddlers and newborns. This was the first of many. We spent this first summer chasing after Kelan and Mac wearing our daughters in Baby Bjorns. We laughed, cried, bitched, shared, and rejoiced about the first year as moms of two children. I do not think I could have managed that initial year of Lauren's life without her. We have survived sleep deprivation, potty training, nursing, tantrums and high energy kids. Our children have become the best of friends (Lauren and Libby are now playing together). Aside from the fact that I like her as a person and would be friends with her sans kids, I think the fact that we both were in the trenches with two young kids at the same time cemented our friendship.

Kate and her kids have become an integral part of my life (we call each other almost every day), so you can imagine my utter joy when they moved into the rental house next door (they are doing a major remodel on their home several blocks away). Since September, we have spent many afternoons with the kids playing in front of our houses. Riding bikes, digging in the dirt, splashing in a baby pool - naked - and running up and down the sidewalk - sometimes, naked. Truly a gift to be able to do this. Not only have we become closer (not to mention the kids), but our husbands have gotten to know each other as well.

Sadly for us/me the Smiths are moving back home. It has been wonderful having good friends so close, but I know they are excited to be in their house again. Living in limbo is never easy. However, I think it is always harder to be the one left behind. I will always look at their house wanting to see them and I know Kelan and Lauren will continue to run next door to see their friends and play in their yard (I hope the new tenants like kids...). They live less than a 5 minute drive up the street and we will continue to see each other all the time, but the ease in which we can just walk outside to play is gone.

Their last night next door is Saturday. I hope the weather is nice so we can play outside.

Easier To Go Out?

2008-04-06T21:09:00.000-07:00

At the end of the day (especially at the end of the weekend) I am so tired that sometimes I succumb to my exhaustion and suggest to Dan that we go out for dinner. After all, it will be easier. Tonight we went to Red Mill for burgers. It was not easier.

We were met with a long line when we arrived. And since this is the type of place where you stand in line to order and then find a seat, I was not pleased with our situation. Waiting (for anything) is not Kelan and Lauren's strong suit. I decide to do the unpopular thing and sit down in the last available booth with the kids while Dan stood in line. I purposely did not meet anyone's gaze/glare who was ahead of us, but I could feel their disdain. Karma will get me later, but for now I needed a place to park the kids.

Kelan insisted on helping Dan place our order - which translates into him running laps between our table and Dan. Meanwhile I am trying to contain Lauren who is frantically grabbing the salt shaker, and the ketchup and mustard squirt bottles. After Dan and Kelan order, they return to the table with the highchair for Lauren and several waters. Soon to be one water. Lauren grabs her cup and trying to head off a wet end result, I attempt to retrieve the water only to have her squeeze the life out of the paper cup forcing water over the table. A minute later, Kelan has accidentally knocked over his water on the table. We have used tons of napkins during this outing, and we have not even started eating yet.

We are still waiting for our food. Lauren is occupying herself by licking the table (I am now somewhat thankful for the table cleaning earlier with all the spilt water and napkins). Kelan is trying to excuse himself from the table to get forks and knives in preparation for our meal. Dan remains stoic throughout this ordeal, whereas I have to state out loud that I need to take a deep breath and calm down. Why haven't they called our name? I am hungry and the kids are getting progressively worse.

Dan! At last - they call our name. Dinner...is ready. A sense of calm descends on our table. Food. That is what the kids needed. That, and a whole lot of ketchup. We gave Lauren a quarter of Kelan's hamburger and not only did is seem to last for the entire meal, but she managed to put more ketchup on that one little piece (not forgetting her face and the table) than I used on my whole burger and fries. But at this point, I do not care. Knock yourself out - ketchup can be a food group tonight.

Like most kids, once you have finished eating, anything left is now a toy. Lauren has one final burger bite on her fork that she is gliding through ketchup that is covering her portion of the table. What you are telling me, Lauren, is that you are done with your dinner. We take away her food and then she sees Dan's water glass. Her next object of affection. Of course one look at her face/hands covered with ketchup and burger and you just know you do not want to share your water glass. Dan and I tag team her with baby wipes, give her a sip of water and declare dinner is over.

Kelan has been surprisingly calm and patient throughout - I think he was hungry (although he did have pancakes this morning, an early lunch, Chinese takeout leftovers for a snack and now a burger and fries. I do not know where he puts is all). We quickly put on coats and bus our table (there has been a steady line of people waiting to order since we arrived and now a new family is eyeing our table as we prepare to leave...). We make it outside and head for the car. I am now trying to remember why it was supposed to be easier to go out?

Ultimate Carmel Cup Campaign

2008-03-18T20:52:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I can be a little bit of a loser. Right now is one of those times. Dreyer's Ice Cream has decided to discontinue my favorite (the ultimate) flavor of ice cream (see previous post: Ultimate Carmel Cup) so my hand has been forced - I have started a Bring Back My Ultimate Carmel Cup campaign.

I have emailed friends and family asking them to email the company about the loss of their favorite flavor. This is where I really look like a loser. I mean, it is only ice cream. The thing is - it's not. It is a little bit of heaven in a bowl. This carmel flavored ice cream has carmel syrup swirled throughout. Adding more decadence, little milk chocolate carmel filled cups are mixed in as well. My mouth is watering. It is an addiction.

Like all good addicts I have a dear co-dependent friend who is helping me scour grocery (actual and online) stores for unpurchased remnants. She is good. She has already found and purchased 3 gallons. They are waiting for me in her freezer (I just need to drive over to Bellevue...).

The email I received back from Dreyer's (in response to my inquiry) confirmed what I had already learned, Ultimate Carmel Cup had indeed been discontinued because of national sales. But they also said (a glimmer of hope) However, it is possible if we hear from enough consumers who share your views this product could be reinstated.

Many friends and family have already sent their pleas to Dreyer's (and have been rewarded with 2 $ .50 coupons for future Dreyer's purchases - you could save a WHOLE dollar). This is your chance for your voice to be heard! Visit Dreyer's website and let them know your devastation of the discontinuation of Ultimate Carmel Cup. If not for me, then do it for the kids. Kelan and Lauren's mom is a lot happier knowing that this ice cream exists.

50's Housewife

2008-03-18T10:04:00.000-07:00

I felt like a 50's housewife yesterday. Well, I had a fleeting flash of a feeling. A friend of mine, Kate, (she is renting the house next door while her own home is being remodeled) invited Kelan over to play yesterday afternoon. Her son is one of Kelan best friends (see Stating the Obvious). Kelan is old enough to walk next door by himself, however I wait on my porch until I can see Kate open the door and give the wave - meaning: I have him. I go back inside with Lauren to finish frosting the birthday cake I am making and that is when I have the flash.

The whole visual included my baking a cake and sending my son to my mom friend next door, but what brought the whole thing home was that I was wearing an apron. It was the icing on the cake. Pun intended. I had to laugh at myself and remember - I am NO 50's housewife.

I do not meet my husband at the door with a scotch - neither of us drink. I usually have dinner on the table when Dan comes home - but it could be something store prepared that I just pulled from the microwave. And I have a true life partner and co-parent in my husband. So I remind myself that the cake and apron is just a necessity of the moment - not a symbol of my life.

Consequently, the birthday cake was for me. I turned 38 yesterday. A really uneventful birthday. 38 - who cares? But I guess I need to be 38 to have everything that I have in my life and to actually recognize that I have it. I am happy in life - what more could I want for my birthday.

I Have No Shame

2008-03-09T20:30:00.000-07:00

It seems since the birth of my two children - I have no shame. Sure, my kids can embarrass me at times, but I do not think I have any personal shame left. I remember when I was laboring with Kelan, my younger sister, Mary, said later that it seemed like every person who came into the birthing suite would stick their hands inside of me. Not an exaggeration. After this, really, what could I be less comfortable with or ashamed of?

Yesterday while on a family walk into Ballard, I decided to make a stop at Bartell's drugstore. I figured it was right next to where we were and (sadly) I needed Monistat. Yes I know, not your most advertised purchase, but here we are as a family walking through the aisles looking for yeast infection medicine. Lovely. Dan is pushing Lauren in a cart and Kelan has his own child sized cart. I lead the parade down the feminine aisle (an aisle I am sure no man likes to walk down - although my husband dutifully has picked up tampons on request in the past - have I mentioned that I have a great husband?). I decide to buy two packs - just to be safe. Kelan likes to have all items placed in his cart when we are at Bartells - so I drop them both into his cart privately laughing that my 3 1/2 year old son is carrying two boxes of yeast infection medicine (our only purchase) to the counter.

Today I noticed while flipping through the flyers in the Sunday paper that there is a $4 off coupon for any Monistat purchase. Then I see that it is on sale at Walgreen's (for an additional four dollars - for a total savings of $8). So back to Bartell's today to return a pack - explaining to Kelan we are returning one - only to explain later at Walgreen's we are buying another one. I even had to fill out a return form at Bartell's with a male cashier (juggling two kids) and a line forming behind me. I have never spent so much time with Monistat.

Since Kelan and Lauren were born I find myself taking care of their every need (or teaching them to provide it for themselves) which leaves me exhausted most of the time. So I guess I am just too tired to care when it comes to buying - or returning - private products.

I Want to Talk

2008-03-04T01:51:00.000-08:00

Lauren is starting to talk more and more. Her words are short, simple and to the point. Nack (read: snack) for when she wants food. Pon (tampon) is coupled with the action of handing me a tampon from its carton in the bathroom (my children love to help with everything). Ami (salami) might just be her favorite food (not to be confused with Mommy - you have to have a good ear to hear the difference). And tine made it into her vocabulary with the gift of Valentine soaps to Kelan from his preschool teacher. Sometimes she is very polite (peas) with her requests, she has even been known to say me me (excuse me) when she burps/farts (or when Dan does). Other times she is VERY demanding. She often couples her words with a hand gesture of pointing at the thing she wants (over and over again).

We have moved from the guessing game with Lauren's needs and wants to the translation game. Although she does have some words down like the word no. In fact it was her first word. She learned it from Kelan. Lovely. Mine is pretty popular as well. Again, perfectly pronounced.

Kelan is another story. He just talks all the time. There is hardly a quiet moment - ever. On my bad days, sometimes I ask him to stop talking for 1 minute. This simple request is usually met with him whining, I want to talk. He has actually said, I want to talk - to talk. How very true.

With all this talking, it must be said that there is no listening. It is a one way street with my children. Lauren (I think) is pretending that she does not hear me (giggling while she does exactly what I have asked her not to do), while I seriously believe that Kelan is deaf. My comments, questions and requests are met with HUH?!?! I (ignorantly) repeat myself and am met with HUH?!??!?!? Deep breath. I try again, and before I even finish my words, HUH?!?!?! Now I am thinking - I want to talk.

Dan says a work colleague does the same thing - he ignores him (because truth be told, his colleague has heard him, it is just his knee jerk response). I try this approach with Kelan, but then I am bombarded with what'd you say? MOM! What you'd say? It is a no win situation. I finally started asking Kelan what he thinks I said. He knows - he repeats what I have said - then he asks again, what'd you say? This happens all day long. Hopefully it is just a phase that he will grow out of soon.

It is clear that my children will never be at a loss for words - they are my children after all. I guess I must look ahead to their futures and realize that they will speak up for themselves (and hopefully others). They will have a voice. They want to talk - I will raise them with something to say.

Stating the Obvious

2008-02-17T21:37:00.000-08:00

As Kelan and Lauren get older, I find myself constantly verbalizing dos and don'ts (in addition to a variety of answers to a never ending supply of questions). Sometimes I have to laugh out loud at the things I say or at least recognize that they are absurd to the person who happens to overhear me. I cannot believe some of the phrases I say: Kelan, please do not drag your sister. Kelan, please do not sit on your sister. Kelan, please do not jump on your sister. Lauren, please do not put sticks in your nose. Lauren, please do not stick your hands in the toilet while your are peeing. It truly amazes me that I actually have to state that these actions are unacceptable. I would think that it would be understood. Clearly - yet again - I am mistaken.

Thankfully it is not only me. Today after Kelan's swim lesson, we went into the locker room where you can shower and change. Kelan and his good friend (they take swim lessons together and his mother is a good friend of mine) are playing in the shower together when I overhear, It is not time to play with your penises. How often do you hear that? I start to laugh so I turn away, because if the boys see my reaction, it will only encourage them. How my friend can say this without laughing - and so calmly - is beyond me (she is smiling though). We move away from the shower to the lockers to get the boys dressed. Then I hear her say to her son, please get your finger out of your bum. I lose it. I am laughing so hard. What are you doing? Please stop putting your finger in your bum. She is laughing now too. There is another mother right next to us dressing her mild mannered son who gets up to leave. I am not sure if they were done. We give each other a look and continue laughing. Sometimes you just have to go with it.

The thing is, there is always something that we are addressing with young children. They are learning all the time and it is our job as parents to lead them in the right way. We think we are stating the obvious, when in fact we are teaching them (endlessly) what the obvious is.

Yes We Can - Barack Obama Music Video

2008-02-04T12:48:00.001-08:00

This Obama video made me cry. It talks of the change and hope I want for my children. I believe he can engage people to help work towards a better country and future.

I like the way Caroline Kennedy said it when she endorsed Barack Obama: I want a President who understands that his responsibility is to articulate a vision and encourage others to achieve it; who holds himself, and those around him, to the highest ethical standards; who appeals to the hopes of those who still believe in the American Dream, and those around the world who still believe in the American ideal; and who can lift our spirits and make us believe again that our country needs every one of us to get involved.

I struggle a bit with not supporting Hillary - do not get me wrong, if she becomes the nominee I will support her 100 percent - but Obama makes me feel . Hillary does not. I feel hopeful of a future for my family (and for every family). I feel those citizens who are not engaged in public life will choose to be in some way. I feel that change is possible. Of course it is way more complicated than that. Yes, it would be amazing to have a woman as President and it seems that every woman I know who is supporting her says that. But that contrasts to Obama supporters - who do not seem to be saying that they want the first African American President - they are saying they want Obama. They want change (although I want to note that I just heard an interview on NPR that interviewed and African American woman who said she was voting for Obama because he was black).

At the end of the day we need change. It is not about Obama. It is not about Hillary. It is about you and me and what we can do.

Trader Joe's

2008-01-23T20:45:00.000-08:00

I should have not gone to Trader Joe's today. It was hell. In fact we almost did not make it - but for some reason I was determined. Why I continue taking my children grocery shopping with me is a mystery (except maybe I do not want to use what little free time I have for chores). Some days they are quite well behaved and somewhat helpful. Today was not one of those days.

After parking the car I notice I have forgotten my wallet. Shit. There is nothing to do but go home and get it - every errand I want to do this afternoon requires it. Kelan has already undone his seat belt. Lauren is dying to get out of the car. Nope. We have to go back home. I spend the majority of the ride home explaining (and re-explaining) that Mommy forgot her wallet and we need to go home to get it.

Half hour later we arrive back at Trader Joe's. Since the kids have been sitting for the duration, they are quite animated once we get inside. Great. Kelan is helping me get lots of things we do not need. Lauren is desperate for a snack (first aisle they have cheese sticks - thank goodness).

I am barely managing to get the things on my list, much less, control the kids. I should have given this shopping trip up when I forgot my wallet at home. But still, I am pushing through. Then I physically run into someone with the cart/kids. I look up and say excuse me, then realize that this is a person I know.

Now it must be said that when you leave the house looking like hell, you are going to run into to someone you know. It is also going to be someone that you have not seen in a long time. Lastly, it will be someone that you wanted to look good in front of (especially hair), and sadly that is not going to happen. The thing is - I rarely go out of the house without good hair. My friends will tell you I style my hair everyday - curlers, product, roller brush, hairspray - a refined process (it is a sickness - I know). So here I am with my hair up in a clip, a zip up fleece, jeans that have the cuffs so wrinkled up that they now highlight my beat up shoes, and the oh so timely breakout situation on my chin. Lovely.

No, this is not an ex-boyfriend. Worse. It is my ex-hairdresser, Robert. Here is a man who not only cut my hair for about 10 years, but who I hung out with socially for a period in my life. After I broke up with him in search of a new stylist (I just felt I needed a change) we remained friends but fell out of touch. I have a husband, kids and go to bed around 9:30pm. He does not. Robert is a wonderful person and it is great to see him, but dammit, I have bad hair!

Adding insult to injury, I have the misfortune of parking my cart near a vertical pole that has about 20 beef jerky bags clipped to it. Lauren proceeds to pull every bag off throwing them to the floor. Kelan thinks this is funny so he starts doing it too. Robert thinks this is the funniest of all and encourages the wreckage. Now just pull the bags off and throw them on the floor. Clearly he does not have children. No mom would dare say such a thing. Frantically I turn to Robert (while trying to clip the bags of beef jerky back on the pole) and say half jokingly, shut up! Kelan then turns to Robert and says shut up. Perfect. I corral the kids back into the cart - away from the fucking beef jerky - say my goodbyes to Robert and head down the aisle. I am exhausted.

For the remaining aisles, Kelan is constantly asking, are we done yet? Oh how I wish we were. Finally we make it to the cashier. Kelan decides to dance (and boy does he have moves) and Lauren is helping pass items to the clerk. There is a woman standing near me who says you sure have happy children. How very true. I do have happy children and that makes all the chaos seem worth it - sort of - I am still wishing I had good hair today.

The Joy of Eating

2008-01-14T21:30:00.000-08:00

We eat as a family every night - something very important to me, even if it is just a bowl of cereal. Around 6pm, when Dan gets home from work, I call everyone to the table. This is when the fun begins.

Eating with Kelan and Lauren has proven to be a feat not unlike a carefully staged ballet. We are in constant motion: cleaning hands, standing up and down, moving from side to side, grabbing utensils from being dropped or banged, repositioning plates, cutting food, getting more food, picking up food from the floor and putting it back on the plate (yes, we eat food off the floor), retrieving kids running from the table, cleaning hands. Oh - Dan and I are trying to eat too.

If this production was not enough, I have two very different and selective eaters. Kelan eats a little bit of everything (and sometimes more than me) while Lauren primarily eats white food (read: starches), beef, mozzarella sticks and dried blueberries. Therein lies my challenge - what to cook. I try to prepare one meal for all, but sometimes have to resort to old standbys for the kids.

I can count on salami, but it must be cut up into little pieces because Lauren will shove the entire slice (or slices) into her mouth (and consequently gag up the partially chewed meat into my hand). If I cut Lauren's salami there is usually a good chance Kelan will want his the same way. Mini ravioli is a house favorite but it must be said that Kelan likes Parmesan cheese sprinkled on top and Lauren does not. Hot dogs (sliced in many pieces) are also a staple in the house. Although Kelan is in this phase of peeling the skin off each one - which makes for a very greasy mess. He is also in this phase of only eating the top part of his broccoli spears.

Lauren's dinning experience on the other hand can be over before it has even begun. If she does not like what is on her plate (preferences subject to change without notice) she will shriek/cry and refuse to sit at the table. If you do indeed get her in her seat, she will either push her plate far away or throw the food everywhere. Lesson: make sure there is at least one favorite item on her plate to avoid a meltdown.

If my children do not like what is on their plate, they do have a choice: this or nothing. Seriously. I am not a short order cook and do not plan on becoming one. Dan and I also subscribe to the when/then system when it comes to food. When you have finished what is on your plate, then you may have some more. This works on Kelan (and hopefully on Lauren when she gets older). At times, Kelan and Lauren have both made the choice not to eat dinner for various reasons - neither of them are wasting away so I think we are okay with them missing a meal.

So for now ketchup and sour cream are considered a food (not a condiment), vitamins are lozenges to be sucked on for seconds before they end up on my living room floor only to be found days later, likes and dislikes can change 180 degrees - and back - without notification, chicken nuggets are only good when in a Happy Meal and eating is considered a sport.

Ultimate Carmel Cup

2008-01-08T22:08:00.000-08:00

I am a little embarrassed to say this: I eat ice cream every night. This is no exaggeration. I eat a bowl of ice cream every night. It all started a couple of years ago - after Kelan was born - when Dan brought home some ice cream. He knows I love carmel and he happened upon a particular flavor at the store. Ultimate Carmel Cup. The thing is, I never used to really eat ice cream. I could take it or leave it. That is until Ultimate Carmel Cup.

I could sell this stuff. Seriously. I love introducing the flavor to Ultimate Carmel Cup virgins. Just thinking about it makes my mouth water. To break it down - the ice cream is three fold. There is the ice cream which is carmel flavored. There is actual carmel swirled into the ice cream, and if that wasn't enough, there are little milk chocolate carmel filled cups throughout this little bit of heaven.

I used to tell myself that I would only eat it when I was breastfeeding (I was burning so many calories while nursing I could afford to eat a bowl every night...). Well, that year came and went with Kelan, yet I still needed my fix. Luckily - for my ice cream addiction - I became pregnant again. Read: good excuse to eat ice cream for nine months. And then I nursed Lauren for a year. Read: good excuse to eat ice cream for 12 more months.

In the evening once the kids have gone to sleep, I shower (there is no showering in the morning with Kelan and Lauren), get ready for the evening, scoop out a delicious bowl and sit on the couch. Then I have a moment not unlike the exhale moment in the movie Waiting to Exhale. Dan and I do not drink, so there is no glass of wine to end the day, but there IS the bowl of ice cream.

I cannot be at home knowing there is not at least one gallon in the freezer (the picture above is not staged - this is what I have in my home at this very moment). It is like toilet paper - a must have. In the past, I have actually sent my cousin Laura to the store at the end of her babysitting shift to buy Ultimate Carmel Cup when I suddenly realize I am out (when Dan is out of town and I must be at home with sleeping kids). It is that good.

For some reason, I am not as big as a house. Of course it begs the question what my waist line would look like without the daily dose of ice cream... But for now I need/want it. At the end of a long day with the kids (especially when Dan is out of town) it helps me relax. For tonight, Kelan and Lauren are asleep. I have showered. Ultimate Carmel Cup has been eaten. I am going to sleep. Goodnight.

O Christmas Tree

2007-12-20T14:07:00.000-08:00

I love Christmas. Not necessarily for the presents (although I must say I am looking forward to my mother's gift to me this year - Korean spa day here I come!), but for everything that comes with it. Of all the traditions of this holiday, my favorite has to be a Christmas tree.

Dan has reluctantly yielded over the years to my love of a Christmas tree (he is just not a fan of Christmas - but now with kids, he is trying to enjoy it more). I am not talking about any old Christmas tree either. I am talking about a floor to ceiling tree and it has to be a Noble Fir. In my opinion, the Noble Fir is the most fragrant and beautiful. No other tree will do. Sadly, they tend to be the most expensive tree - much to Dan's chagrin.

We decorated our tree the other night with the kids. I have boxes of ornaments - some old and some new. Some that I grew up with and some I have collected over the years. Our tree is reminiscent of my childhood trees - not just because I have some of the old ornaments - but because it is decorated with everything. Well, everything except tinsel - tinsel is never okay. My mother has always hated it and steered us away from its use when we were younger - I guess the preference stuck. To me it is almost like gum chewing - better when not seen.

I like to take each ornament from its box and thoughtfully examine it - pondering its story. There is the Jeanne ornament - that is part of a set, although my sister Caroline has her ornament and the one of our childhood cat. Lauren fell immediately in love with this one and grabbed it from the tree the second it was hung. Unfortunately - for her - this is an ornament I would miss greatly if lost so I had to pry from her hands only to place higher up on the tree. Needless to say - tree trimming is lost on Lauren. To her it is just a toy rack.

I also have ornaments (I use the term loosely here, because they hardly resemble that anymore) that I place solely on the tree for sentimental value. There is a blue construction paper angel with gold and red glitter - I made in Sunday school as a child - that has been decapitated. It does not hang anymore - I just lay it on a branch (the head next to its body). There is also a snowflake (?) that my sister, Caroline, made that makes an annual appearance as well. It's half the size of its original state, but I cannot seem to decorate the tree without it.

I can hardly wait for the kids to make special items for our tree. For me, it just makes the tree. The tree becomes an alter for family stories and memories.

This year however, tree decorating was exciting for Kelan, traumatic for Lauren, existent for Dan and rushed for me. I just hold out hope that the ornaments will stay on the tree and pray that Kelan and Lauren do not realize there is a bucket of water under it.

Is it Me? Part 2 Cont.

2007-12-04T18:57:00.000-08:00

My prescription still has not been filled. Seriously. My doctor's nurse called me around 2:30pm to say that she was faxing back the approval and that I could go and pick up my prescription today. Thank god. I had an appointment to see my chiropractor at 5pm, so I thought I would swing by my pharmacy on the way to the appointment.

I load the kids in the car and drive to Walgreens. I have to go inside (although they do have a drive through) because - adding insult to injury - that time of the month started today and I am out of tampons. Lovely. I am walking - at a 45 degree angle at this point - to the back of the pharmacy, wrangling two kids that just want to run and grab everything. I squat on the floor (because it hurts to stand) waiting for our turn at the counter. Kelan and Lauren have decided to rearrange the over the counter medicine display - I let them. Soon Kelan notices that I am holding a box of tampons. The conversation goes like this: Are those tampons? Yes. We need more tampons? Yes. We have no tampons at home? Yes. We need more tampons at home? Yes. I am now hysterically laughing and crying because not only is this funny in itself, there are about 5 people behind me in line (women and men) who can hear - and are laughing. In fact, the woman behind me said that her day was now not so bad.

I get to the front of the line only to hear that they are still waiting for approval from my doctor. You have GOT to be kidding me. I leave the store - sans tampons - and struggle to put both kids back into the car. A wasted trip on my poor back. I call Dan, tears streaming down my face, just to hear that he will be home soon and will take care of me.

The chiropractor helps, but I still am in pain. I come home and start dinner (I would have gone to McDonald's for Happy Meals, but I did that yesterday...). Dan comes home and is ready to go to Walgreens - I call to make sure that my beloved vicodin is ready. It is not. It is 6:30pm. I have had it. It has been two full days. I call the on call doctor. She realizes that the approval was faxed to the wrong pharmacy. She apologizes and says she will fix the problem. Unbelievable. Is it me?

Is it Me? Part 2

2007-12-04T13:23:00.000-08:00

It's happened again. My doctor's office staff has proven that they are inept (see Is it Me?). Basic requests seemed to get lost in translation. Follow through has no meaning. No wonder people today have less and less patience - inadequate customer service happens everywhere.

My back went out on Sunday morning so I went into my own personal crisis mode (please note that my doctor is fully aware of my crisis plan). This entails an ibuprofen and vicodin drug therapy. Massage and chiropractic work (sometimes a rolfer is added to the payroll depending on the severity of the "outage" and on personal finances - rolfers are not cheap and insurance does not cover visits). Hot Epsom salt baths, icing and stretching. LOTS of stretching.

I realized that I only had several vicodin pills left so I proactively contacted my pharmacy on Sunday so they could fax a refill request to my doctor's office where it would be waiting on Monday morning. I figured I had enough to get me through the next 24 hours and by then, my doctor's office would have gone through their prescription requests and given the okay for the refill. This was not to be.

On Monday mid day I contacted my pharmacy to check the status of my refill. They had not heard back from my doctor's office. I decided to give them a little more time to get through their refill requests so I waited a couple of more hours. By now I had run out of vicodin and my back was feeling worse than it did on Sunday (it had moved into full spasm from the initial injury).

I contacted my pharmacy again and they suggested I contact my doctor's office to make sure they received the faxed refill request (they would also fax another one). I did as they suggested and spoke with a very nice woman who took down my message to give to my doctor/nurse). I thought we were now headed in the right direction. Sadly I was mistaken. I never got my prescription refilled on Monday. That night I toughed it out with ibuprofen and Tylenol. For those of you who have never had your back go out, you may not understand the level of pain and may think I am being over dramatic - it is not like I did not have the ibuprofen and Tylenol... But I would like you to consider what it would feel like to be hit by a Mack truck and be given a vitamin to help ease the pain. You with me now?

I called my pharmacy again this morning. Nothing. However I did receive a message from my doctor's nurse. She said that I need to contact my pharmacy so they could fax over a refill request. That the procedure for prescription refills was to contact your pharmacy - not the doctor. Excuse me? That is what I fucking did fucking yesterday that apparently was fucking ignored. Maybe the nice woman who took down my message got it wrong - but I had explained that my pharmacy had indeed faxed over a request. Maybe the nurse did not understand the message or did not read the whole thing (man they need to get voicemail over there)? Or maybe my pharmacy did not actually fax over the refill request (twice) like they said.

It must be said that I have actually maintained self control. I have not lost my temper (thank goodness) with the pharmacy or doctor's office (although I am silently cursing their existence). Most importantly, I have maintained my composure with Kelan and Lauren - no sick days for mom (note that Dan did come home an hour early yesterday so I could go and get a massage, and is contemplating cancelling his business trip so he can take care of me and the kids - I have the best husband!).

I put in another call to the pharmacy to have them fax over a third request. Additionally I called my doctor's office - again - to let them know that I do understand the prescription refill procedure, and that I had only left a message alerting them to the fax because the pharmacy had not heard back from them. Is it me?

Thanksgiving Boogie

2007-11-30T17:13:00.001-08:00

What We Have Here is a Failure to Communicate

2007-11-27T14:40:00.000-08:00

My children do not hear me. I am joking - sort of. In addition to loving my children unconditionally, my tasks as a parent in raising them center around teaching them how to be/function in this world and to keep them safe. My job would be a lot easier (hell, I would settle for somewhat challenging) if my children would listen to me. But I guess that is not their job. I have deduced that at times I must sound like the adults in a Charlie Brown cartoon because my words have no meaning.

Today we went to the Starbucks just above the Children's Museum at Seattle Center (I needed a coffee - I could feel a challenge about to start) and Kelan took off to see the giant train set up in the food court for the holiday. He ran away so fast when we got inside that I did not even have time to explain the rules of the outing. So now I am calling for Kelan (who is in sight and totally fine - although I am making a mental note to make an appointment to check his hearing which is clearly the problem - he is totally deaf). All while I am juggling the double stroller, Lauren, the diaper bag, and my coffee order. In hindsight I could have started this outing a different way, but that does not help me now.

I sometimes think I look like one of those crazed mothers who cannot control their children in public (come to think of it, I am one of those crazed mothers who cannot control their children in public). But in my defense, it is not for a lack of discipline. Kelan and Lauren are not allowed to run completely wild, but I have been forced to adapt to who my children are what they need (and how they learn). As a parent (and the adult in the relationship) this is my job. I often stare in disbelief at parents whose children stand right next to them and hang on their every word. It is safe to say I do not know what that is like.

When Kelan makes up his mind to do something and/or does not want to pay attention, he will not hear you. My sister, Caroline, mentioned to me that she had heard some young children get so caught up in what they are doing, that they physically cannot hear you. If that is true - I have a textbook case.

At my monthly parent education class (part of my committment for Kelan's Co Op preschool) each parent got to talk about one thing that your child does at school that drives you crazy. I spoke about Kelan not listening. How, at times, I have to get on my knees and gently (but firmly) hold his face in my hands, ask for his eyes and listening ears before he will hear me. Sometimes he does, other times I feel like I am trying to get the attention of a Stevie Wonder impersonater. Kelan's teacher nodded her head knowingly while I shared my troubles. She then explained that one of her sons was the same way. It is just who they are. A teacher with sympathy - wonderful. No quick fix - discouraging.

I need to find a better way to communicate with Kelan and Lauren when they are distracted (awake) because I want them to be safe and to learn how to be good people. Because both require a certain amount of instruction from me that must be heard.

We Forgot Lauren

2007-11-17T20:18:00.000-08:00

Last night as I am walking out of the restaurant I see Dan and Kelan playing around the car in the parking lot. Dan gives me a weird look and asks, "where's Lauren?" Huh? "I thought you had her?" He swears he does not and I am thinking this is an awful joke and why is he not laughing yet. I come closer and oh my god, he is STILL not laughing which means - we forgot Lauren.

I run back into Bombay Palace (great Indian food - but this is really not important at this point) and I hear the hostess say, "she is right here" and motions to the main dining room of the restaurant. I sigh with such relief that I swear everyone can hear. I am so embarrassed. Every patron is laughing (Lauren is obviously okay and enjoying herself immensely with her new found freedom of running in between all the tables). The owner comes up to me and says that she will make a great hostess someday because she has been greeting every table. How does this happen? I will tell you: mass chaos.

We have gotten a little tired of our Friday night spot (Tacos Guaymas - Mexican food) so we have been trying out new spots with the kids. The new restaurant (and the fact that Dan just got back into town from a three day business trip) excited the kids. Sadly our dinner was keeping the kids in their seats, preventing water spills, controlling/quieting outside voices, and lastly, enjoying the amazing food. Dan and I inhaled the last bites on our plates and started gearing up to leave. This means: find the server/check and wrestle coats/hats on children. We needed to get the kids outside - fast. Dan said, "I'll take them out to the car." This is the turning point. I heard Dan say them. In reality he said Kelan (sounds the same - sort of). In my defense, the dining experience alone could have caused my brain to malfunction, but coupling that with the three days I have been on my own with the kids - I heard THEM.

I wait by myself at the table for the check. I speak to the couple seated next to ours and apologize if we have interrupted their meal too much - no, we have not. I thank our server, I leave a big tip (I cannot begin to describe the amount of rice under the table) and head towards the door - soon to realize my mistake.

During the car ride home, Dan and I retrace our steps (and imagine poor Lauren's). The best we can come up with is that she followed Dan and Kelan out of the dining room and went into the bar instead of going outside. We guess that when I left the restaurant she doubled back and started talking to the guests - which is where I found her when I came racing back into the restaurant. Kelan contributed to our conversation by continuously saying, "we forgot Lauren!" all the way home. Lovely.

We can laugh about it now because she is fine. Yes, we forgot Lauren, but only for a couple of minutes. I am sure we would not have driven off without her. All's well that end's well. You can say that again.

Some Days Are Harder Than Others

2007-11-07T21:58:00.000-08:00

Today was one of those hard days. It started at 6:30am (I was awake earlier when Kelan crawled into bed with me and Dan, but since my husband gets up before me - and is a saint - he took Kelan with him when he got up). I drift back to sleep. Lauren wakes up which wakes me up. Dan goes upstairs to get her and brings her to me in bed - it is almost time for him to leave. Kelan gets in bed too. Dan heads off to work. My day has begun and I am not even out of bed, much less, my eyes are not even open.

We head to the kitchen for Lauren's milk (and my milk - uh, coffee). Within (what felt like) seconds, Lauren has climbed up on a stool and tipped over my coffee (it was luke warm at best - she is fine). Lauren is soaked. The counter and floor are covered with coffee. Coffee that would have been better in me than on her. Kelan is whining that he is hungry. They both start to cry. It has been 15 minutes since I got out of bed. This is NOT a good start. I am tired and cranky. I have a sinus infection. I am PMSing. I have not had my coffee. I lose it. I banished the kids from the kitchen and tell them that Mommy is in a time out. They cry harder. It takes me about 10 minutes to clean up all the coffee and get Lauren's milk. All the while Kelan and Lauren are crying - loudly - at the kitchen gate. I run the many coffee saturated towels downstairs to the washing machine and start a load of laundry, and then I hear Kelan yelling that Lauren is throwing papers. Huh? Mommy, Lauren is throwing papers! Shit, the only papers I know of are on the dinning room table. Which means - shit - she's on top of the dinning room table. I race upstairs. Kelan is right. Lauren is throwing papers off the dinning room table. She sees me and makes a run for it down to the other end (this is her new favorite activity - running around on the table). I cannot take it anymore and rather than being a crazy lunatic posing as a mom, I decide that Sesame Street may be better for my children than me. I have failed them so early in the morning.

This afternoon was not much better. I was already in a frazzled (and fragile) state after - what felt like - a long morning working in Kelan's Co Op preschool (it was field trip day). I also had to force Lauren to take her nap since she fell asleep in her playgroup this morning (I do NOT fault her playgroup sitters....they are amazing. Lauren is just having some difficulty with daylight savings. Damn that stupid time change!). After nap time, I asked Kelan to go potty. I was in the kitchen when he came running out saying he used all of the toilet paper. Is it on the floor? Yes he says. I have this vision that an entire roll is unraveled all over the floor. This is what my children do when left to their own devices in the bathroom. Damn it! I angrily scold Kelan for wasting toliet paper and tell him he is NOT supposed to do this. He looks at me with a confused/hurt look on his face and we walk into the bathroom. I see an empty roll, but there is not the expected pile of tissue on the floor, just some end scraps (which was what he was talking about when I asked if it was on the floor). I completely deflate and realize that Kelan came to tell me he used the last of the toilet paper. I have failed again. I burst into tears. Kelan sees me crying and then starts to cry too. I profusely apologize for getting mad at him. I explain that Mommy is the one in trouble - not him. I tell him I thought he wasted a bunch of toilet paper. I praise him for coming to tell me that we need to replace the roll. I am still weeping. I hold him tight.

Each night when I sing to Kelan just before he goes to bed I tell him he is a good kid. That I am happy. That I love him. Sadly, I know I will have more days like this. But my promise to my kids is that I will try to do better, and that we will always end each day with positive and loving goodnight moments.

Mr. Zartman Continued

2007-10-25T12:25:00.000-07:00

After I wrote about Mr. Zartman and my binders earlier this month I had the urge to find him. Easy enough with Google - especially, because there are few Wendall Zartmans in Houston, TX. He is now teaching across the street from my old high school, Lamar. He spent 21 years at my high school before he went to St. John's where he is in his 10th year.

I emailed him wondering if he would remember me. He responded back quickly saying "of course I remember you!". He went on to tell me that he had just attended a lecture on how the adolescent brain works. The lecturer talked about how teachers do not realize how powerful their words are and that the impressions they make have a huge impact. A couple of days after he attended this lecture, he received my email. I guess his lecturer was right. Mr. Zartman did make an impact on my life (the fact that I am writing about him for the third time proves this point).

Today I received another email from him. He used my essay in class to motivate his students. I am truly touched. Funny how life works given the time. I started in his class being a terrible student (not listening, not doing the work, talking to friends and having a messy binder - I am sure), but I turned that around with a challenge and reward from my mother (see Mr. Zartman and the Gucci Purse). Now Mr. Zartman has used me to motivate his students. My mother will be proud. I wonder if there is another purse in it for me? Only joking.

I want Kelan and Lauren to have amazing teachers in their lives. In fact, Dan and I are already working to make sure this happens. We are actively supporting school board candidates (i.e. money and volunteer time). Additionally, we belong to the organization - Communities and Parents for Public Schools - Dan serves on the board as well. This is an organization whose mission is to ensure quality public schools for all Seattle children. It is so important because teachers have such an impact on our children's lives. They are not just there to teach the material - they are mentors, coaches and friends.

Thank you Mr. Zartman.

Is it Me?

2007-10-20T20:31:00.000-07:00

I am the common denominator. But aren't we all in our own lives? I keep wondering if it is me that is doing something wrong or do people just not care anymore. I am constantly stunned with common courtesy/customer service I receive.

My doctor's office is no exception - let me be more specific - my doctor's office staff (my doctor is great) is no exception. I went yesterday to get a tetanus shot and blood drawn (no food or beverage beforehand - read: no caffeine in the morning after a long night with sick kids and husband out of town). Sounds simple. Clearly too hard for the staff. I had made my appointment for 10am. On purpose. Kelan is in school and Lauren is in good form. The day before I received a recorded reminder call about my 10:30am appointment. Not right. I have to call them back and confirm that I have a 10am appointment. They concur.

Friday morning, I arrive at my scheduled appointment. Blood is drawn quickly and am directed back to the reception area to wait for them to call me for my shot. It is 10:15am. It is 10:30am. It is 10:35am. I ask the receptionist about the delay. Meanwhile Lauren is now running around the reception area dropping food all over the floor. They tell me that I have a 10:30am appointment. Ugh. I try to explain - again. No use. It is 10:45am. I am paying for downtown parking. Can they validate ($2 off parking)? No. Validation is only for doctor's appointments, not lab work. What seems to be the hold up? I ask again. There is another man there who is having the exact same problem I am. He's been here 5 minutes longer that me. It is 10:50am. Lauren has pooped but I am concerned that I will miss my call if I go and change her diaper. I ask again if they can validate my parking since my appointment is way delayed. They say they are out of validation stickers, but the next time I'm here they will pay for the whole parking (like they are going to remember this months from now). I am staring at the sign that reads, if you have been waiting longer than 15 minutes for your appointment please notify the receptionist. And what will she do? I have had it. I have low blood sugar level (no food) and a caffeine headache (no coffee). Not to mention that I have to go and pick up Kelan at school.

It is 11am. I open the door that leads back to the exam rooms and nurses station and let Lauren run free. Seriously. I start chasing her down the hall and everyone is looking at me. I run into my doctor's nurse. I ask what seems to be the hold up with my shot appointment. She looks at me like I am a stranger - lovely (I do learn that I was not on her schedule for my shot, but another nurse). She asks who my doctor is. Are you kidding me (I saw her 2-3 weeks ago)? I'm done. I pick Lauren up, announce that this is ridiculous and I am out of here. As I walk by the reception desk I tell them to let whoever know, I have left.

My doctor is great, so I will have to explain what happened. Thank goodness I did not yell and scream at anyone, but still I am not proud. Although I do believe I was justified in leaving. God help me if I get a serious cut in the near future.

Is it me?

Lauren's Sense of Style

2007-10-16T12:08:00.000-07:00

It is happening. Lauren is starting to choose things to wear. It started with her selecting a pair of shoes (she has two pair: one is a practical - but cute - pair of Mary Jane Stride Rites and one is a fancy hot pink pair of Mary Janes with gold designs from my mother). Which pair do you think she gravitates towards?

Kelan never cared what I put on him (he only now seems to care about one particular fleece - but I believe he thinks it is too small, so he does not like it). Kelan is like his dad - could care less about what he wears as long as it is comfortable and practical (also sounds like Kelan and Lauren's Aunt Queta...).

This morning while I was getting the kids dressed, Lauren went to the toy box and grabbed her pink and orange tutu (made by her Aunt Caroline) and my Danskin Triathlon Finishers medal (now a dress up toy for the kids). She was insistent upon it. Additionally, she chose her shoes (yes, the hot pink ones) and her hat. Who am I to say no? Let me explain.

I remember (and my mother tells me about it all the time) that I wore a particular ensemble for weeks at a time (not every week mind you, but every day for weeks). It was a dark green Poe Elementary School t-shirt (it had our mascot on it, a raven - what else), a brown flowered circle skirt (i.e. full skirt), white knee high socks and a pair of black Chinese shoes (black canvas Mary Jane type shoes). And with me doing my own hair (my mother cannot do hair, much less, she hates to touch other people's hair), I was a sight to see I am sure. But I was happy and I am sure my mom did not care as long as I dressed myself (or I just wore her down so she stopped caring). My mother used to secretly wash the threadbare outfit (which it became) at night so I was at least wearing clean clothes.

So today it came as no surprise that Lauren was choosing an ensemble herself. Granted I do keep an array of clothing options that when put together are quite funny, but even I would not have thought to include a tutu and a medal.

I Can't Think

2007-10-04T20:38:00.000-07:00

It happened again today. I could not think this afternoon. I went shopping at Fred Meyer (like a Target with food) and Ballard Market (grocery store) and all I came away with was some jeans for Lauren, 3 pumpkins, bananas and some Swiffer Wet Jet floor cleaning solution refill. Huh? Two stores and only a limited number of items purchased? I blame the children.

Both kids are at an age where you cannot do ANYTHING but focus on them - so unless you have a list at the store, you will not be able to make a decision - about anything. This afternoon was NO exception. I thought I would first try to get some jeans for Lauren (the hardest task because I have to try them on her). Since my attention was on Lauren, Kelan took off running through the aisles grabbing all the clothes off the racks within reach and dumping them on the floor. I go to grab him and Lauren takes off running (clearly excited in the new jeans). Both children are running through the tightly packed aisles (read: hard to see) screaming with utter delight. I am screaming (well, speaking loudly), but I am NOT delighted. I wrangle the kids, buckle Kelan in the front part of the cart and put Lauren in the basket. I throw the jeans in the cart (Lauren throws them on the floor), I try to put on one of Lauren's shoes (she throws the other one on the floor), I start pushing the cart, Lauren starts throwing the contents of my diaper bag on the floor. I need to get the hell out of Fred Meyer - I can't think.

This week I was responsible for snack at Kelan's school and for our evening parent meeting. When shopping for the food, I made the mistake of bringing Kelan, Lauren and Dan with me. I was so crazed that I bought too much food and now I have tons of leftover snacks.

I have mom friend who feels like I do (don't we all?). Her guilty pleasure is to go to Fred Meyer on Friday nights after the kids go to sleep. Most times she does not buy anything. She walks the store and processes things. What a wonderful treat.

Today is done - kids are asleep. I get a do over each day so I hope tomorrow I will be able to think. It would be nice, because I could not think of what to have for dinner tonight, so I didn't.

Mr. Zartman and My Binders

2007-10-04T13:29:00.000-07:00

This is the second time in my adult life I have written about my high school freshman year World History teacher, Mr. Zartman (you can read my first Mr. Zartman essay on Pursestories.com). I guess our teachers really do have an impact on our the rest of our lives.

I was reminded of Mr. Zartman the other day, because I made another binder (this is a very systematized folder with many tabs) . This particular one is for Kelan's cooperative preschool. I serve as the class treasurer in addition to working in the classroom, thus the need to be coordinated. There is a lot of paper associated with Co Op (and actually life now that I think about it), and I can be a little obsessive about organization.

Plain and simple: Mr. Zartman taught me how to make an organized folder (including all the tabs for separate sections). He even graded us on it. I remember thinking back then, what on earth does a binder have to do with World History and who the hell cares what my personal folder looks like. Now I get it. He was helping us help ourselves to be organized so we could learn the material (and of course probably helping himself by eliminating the I can't find it excuse). Additionally, he cared about us being organized - and now I care, because it helps me so much with keeping my kids/life coordinated.

One of my most memorable post school binders was for my volunteer work with the YWCA Leaders in Progress program in 2000 (the name has changed since I volunteered, it is now: GirlsFirst). I committed to one year of service as mentor to two "teen girls who face economic and social barriers to success". In addition, I attended a once a month full day leadership workshop with all the other girls and mentors. I remember receiving so much information that I couldn't even absorb it all so I made a binder. I did not really think anything of it until I went to my first meeting with the other mentors, and they all gasped at my binder! This was a volunteer gig - we already had jobs with tons of work. Since then, my binder became a joke - in a good humored sort of way. Everyone liked the organization of it - but in no way would anyone make one on their own. In fact they all joked that I would probably make binders for the girls that I was mentoring. What a good idea. I did. Everyone in the program was in on the joke. Uh oh, Jeanne's going to make a binder... (I ended up serving on the committee that oversaw this program for several years after my year of mentoring - yep, I made more binders!).

Through my years of working in office jobs (Paineful Webber and the City of Seattle) I have made countless binders - its my organizational system.

Fast forward to my children and the beginning of cooperative preschool. I made a binder as the Parent Coordinator/Board Member for Kelan's first Co Op last year (which I dutifully passed on to the next person in my position). I now have made another one for this year.

I went to the parent meeting the other night - binder in hand - expecting a similar response as I had received at my mentor meeting with the YWCA. What a wonderful surprise - LOTS of binders (with tabs)! Which just translates to me: a lot of organized people. So not only do I enjoy everyone's company (and their children) - it is an incredibly well run (and organized) preschool.

I am not sure where Mr. Zartman is today - it has been about 23 years since I sat in his class. However, to this day, I credit him for my binder. Thank you, Mr. Zartman.

Kelan Has a Doll

2007-09-06T14:02:00.000-07:00

I was dancing with my children today to Marlo Thomas' Free to Be You and Me album this morning when William Wants a Doll came on which sent me into tears. I am not sad by any means - just moved. Let me explain.

Lauren got a baby doll and stroller for her first birthday back in May. She wasn't old enough to really even know what it was, but as a young girl I LOVED my baby dolls and I wanted to share my experience with my daughter. I soon realized that I should have shared it with Kelan too, because the second Lauren received her baby doll, Kelan opened his arms wide and said, "My baby!" hugging the doll so gently. What a wonderful sight. Kelan is all boy (i.e. he's all about tackling his friends, into trucks and trains and is an all around rough and tumble kid) - yet there is a soft and gentle side to him as well, that comes to the surface when he is holding Lauren's baby up on his shoulder singing "Rock-a-bye-Baby".

Several weeks later I was telling a good friend of the family, Jan (a pseudo grandma), about Kelan and Lauren's baby and she immediately said, "that's what I'm going to get Kelan for his third birthday!". Being who I am, and growing up on Free to Be You and Me I was totally supportive of this gift. Our friend started her quest to find the perfect baby doll for Kelan - a boy doll.

At Kelan's birthday party, Jan gave Kelan his gift and he was truly overjoyed. He immediately took his baby into his arms and went off to a secluded bench - we were at a park - where he could have some privacy. What a special moment for Kelan (and for those of us lucky enough to witness it).

Sadly my father-in-law, after seeing the baby doll, announced that he got Kelan a boy's toy - a truck! Obviously he does not know about "William" and Free to Be You and Me. Additionally, he did not understand the company he was in (who were ALL supportive of the gift). I guess this goes back to his generation and the limits and stereotyping put on children. My younger sister Mary spoke up and rightly said, "both are good". Which is true - Kelan loves his truck AND his baby. In my opinion, this antiquated thought process on "gender" biased toys goes beyond toys. It's much more than that. I can't help but think that my father-in-law missed out on so much with his children (he has six) when they were young. I know my father did. But as I watch my husband being "Daddy" to our kids, I know things have changed.

Dan is an amazing father who is with me during the good times and is down in the trenches with me during the other times. He has been known to change diapers AND get me something to drink while I was nursing at 3am. He makes up songs to sing to the kids while they dance. Bath time is his time with them (well, with two kids now, it's started to become our time). On the weekends he gets up and plays with the kids while I get a little extra sleep. He reads story after story to two bright eyed kids who just want one more.

I remember when Dan and I would both read books to Kelan before bed (before Lauren was born). Every time I read the ending of Guess How Much I Love You, Dan cried. True. The book described what he was feeling as a father: "I love you to the moon and back".

Dan is experiencing what is IS to be a father. He is taking it ALL in - the good, the bad and the ugly. I think he understands what mothers have known for some time, it's not about us anymore - it's about the kids. This is life - our future. I believe a lot of our generation's fathers did not quite get this idea. I think this is why my father failed at being a dad. It seemed that he believed it was still about him. He never had a chance to see what it meant to be Daddy.

So when I see Kelan with his doll holding him sweetly, I smile. Kelan will be an amazing father if he chooses to have children. He will be kind and understanding. He will co-parent with his partner. He will love his kids so much, and will know it's about them. After all, he will have learned from the best.

We Came Back

2007-09-02T14:57:00.000-07:00

We just got back from our last vacation for this summer. We went to Whistler, BC and it was pure heaven! I almost thought we would not make it, because Kelan was just getting over his month long stomach illness (which was never fully diagnosed). Kelan had not thrown up in 2 days and his diarrhea seemed to subside so we decided to go for it and embark on the 5-6 hour drive to Canada.

I had the brilliant idea of leaving after dinner so that the kids would sleep during the car ride. This idea is good in theory, but in practice it was quite possibly the worst idea I have EVER had. Lauren and Kelan fell asleep right on schedule, but after an hour they both woke up with no signs of going back to sleep. In fact Lauren became hysterical because she was so tired and could not sleep in the car. So here we were on a two lane road headed up to Canada (hours still to go) in the dark, on a road that is under construction (they are doing MAJOR road work in preparation for the 2010 Winter Olympics) and not many places to stop. Kelan had given up by this point. He sat in his car seat with his tired glazed eyes focusing on nothing in particular while Lauren SCREAMED. In fact, she cried so hard that she threw up. I have heard of this happening but I have never witnessed it firsthand. It's not pretty. I eventually had to squeeze into the back seat between the car seats and sing/hum our nighttime lullaby while rubbing her face and arms and legs for about a half hour until she crashed. Dan managed to drive stoically through the chaos. He is my hero.

Set between snow capped mountains, Whistler is a ski resort village that caters to mountain bikers during the summer. The village and surrounding trails are perfectly groomed (you are definitely not roughing it) that all you have to do is take in the beauty around you. Dan had found a deal online at the Tantalus Resort which included: two rooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, dining area and living room (not to mention the balcony that overlooked the pool and mountains). After Vegas, we learned that we need the space with kids and the kitchen helps cut down on food costs.

We soon fell into a routine. Mornings were spent as a family, then we would would head back to the room for lunch. Dan would then leave for his mountain bike adventure while the rest of us would explore Whistler, go swimming in the pool or play on the jungle gym at the hotel.

I love seeing the kids outside and experiencing new things. It's very important to me and Dan and we will continue to take our kids outside. We walked along tree lined trails with slugs, snakes and chipmunks crossing our path - thankfully no black bears (although Dan did see one while biking one afternoon. Whistler is black bear country and everywhere you go there are signs about getting "Bear Smart" - i.e. what to do if your paths cross). One of my favorite walks was to the Lost Lake - which we did twice. It was stunning and the kids loved playing on the beach and in the water. There was also a family of ducks that would come close to the kids and dart away as soon as the kids tried to grab them.

One morning I made banana pancakes and Lauren decided she wanted to use a fork. With her daddy's help (and Kelan's) she ate her breakfast like a big kid. It was a sweet family morning that I remember.

We spent time swimming in the pool (and the Lost Lake) looking up at the mountains, walking through Whistler Village, climbing the jungle gyms, playing in the sand (and eating it...Lauren!), watching the mountain bikers come down the slopes, eating Indian food (our favorite dinner!), climbing rocks and just getting really dirty. It was wonderful.

On our last day it rained. Down poured is more like it. Dan would not be able to get one more ride in before we left (but he might not have been able to anyway because he crashed the day before and jammed his left wrist). Just as well - we were leaving and had learned we should drive in the day rather than the night.

The kids napped for the first hour of the ride back - which was what we expected. Now what to do to get home without a meltdown? We must make some stops along the way. We managed the perfect stop: a sweet little town - Horseshoe Bay - where we could eat and play in a park by the water's edge. We found a cafe and as Kelan entered he announced, "this is perfect!" - and it was. Afterwards we walked over to a park where we let the kids play and we could see the ferries come and go. The kids loved the park and did NOT want to leave (or maybe they just didn't want to get back on the road).

We managed to get everyone back into the car and headed out of Horseshoe Bay. Or so we thought. We kept going around in circles due to one way signs and lack of signs leading us to the highway. Every time we circled back around the park Kelan would announce, "we came back!" This sent me into hysterical crying fits of laughter every time he said it, but Dan only became more and more frustrated (he was driving). At last we made it out - whew! - and headed home without incident.

We will come back to Whistler - it was a great trip.

Epilogue

It's 5am the morning after our return. Kelan has wet (soaked) the bed that we are sleeping in so I'm up getting him changed and finding towels (freshly washed after all the vomit and diarrhea Kelan had before the trip) to line the bed. It's 6am and Lauren is screaming. Dan goes into her room to find her sitting in diarrhea (leaked out of her diaper all over her crib). He brings her downstairs just in time for her to throw up. It's the same "symptoms" we were dealing with before our trip, just a different kid. Welcome home. We came back.

A True Test of Parenthood

2007-08-17T16:58:00.000-07:00

Boy it's been a crappy day (literally). Kelan and Lauren are sick again. What we thought was the stomach virus may be giardia (that means parasite). Let me back up.

Kelan first threw up on July 31st (see Heirloom Tomatoes posting). No panic. Vomit happens. A 24 hour thing at best. He got better. Then the vomit and diarrhea started again. He got better - again. The doctor even gave Kelan the "go ahead" to be around folks. Then last night (note: Kelan sleeps with me) at midnight I heard the rumblings that can only mean 2 things. Vomit or diarrhea. Soon explosive sounds were coming from Kelan's bottom (thank goodness for night night diapers, lots of towels already under Kelan, and my poor sleep habits that make me alert enough to be prepared for what is about to happen). We have a winner. Diarrhea. During a pause in intestinal expulsion, I managed to get Kelan on the toliet. Good thing too. Kelan let loose a fury I did not know was possible. I cleaned him up, put him in a new diaper and we went back to sleep.

3am. I heard more rumblings. I shot out of bed and got Kelan into the bathroom only to have him throw up all over the floor, violently I might add. I called for Dan (who's upstairs asleep in Kelan's bed) - I needed reinforcements. Kelan is now pale and shaking. I strip him down, clean him off, get him in a new diaper and clothes before I tuck him back into bed. Dan is cleaning up the mess in the bathroom...reluctantly (hell, I would be too if I had just been startled from sleep and been told to clean up vomit. Have I mentioned that I have the best husband? He also went into work late this morning to let me sleep till 8am). I take all the bath towels used to clean up the mess and start a load of laundry while Dan is disinfecting the bathroom. It's 4am. We're exhausted. We head back to sleep.

I have to say that Lauren was NOT asleep through all of this. We heard sporadic cries coming from her room. But then she would quiet down - so we figured it was just her teeth and she went back to sleep. This morning we found out that she had diarrhea in her diaper and had thrown up on herself sometime during the night. I am such a bad mom.

I decided to take the kids to the doctor this morning. We learned that the stomach virus that is going around does not behave like this and that we need to get tests. This means: stool sample. I am instructed to get some Saran Wrap to line the kids' diapers to collect samples. However, Saran Wrap is not absorbent, so it is very messy. Additionally, to get both kids to poop at the same time seems an impossible task.

Early this afternoon I smell something from Lauren (success!). I do not want to just drop off one sample at a time (and it needs to get to the lab in short order once collected), so I ask Kelan if he can poop. "No, I'm fine," he says. I look at him again and say, "I will give you a cookie if you can poop in your diaper right now". I'm such a bad mom. But you know what? It worked and he got a cookie.

I collect the samples, the kids and head out to the lab to drop off the poop. Lauren's turns out to be not enough to test. I'll have to redo hers. Lovely. We go home. Around 4:15pm I collect her sample - again, the kids - again, and head back to the lab to drop off her poop - again.

It has been a day. I am worn out. The kids have watched a lot of Thomas, Sesame Street and Clifford today. I am such a bad mom. But there are not a lot of options for sick kids (with a tired mom) who need to be quiet and have something to do. Hopefully tonight will better, but just in case, all bedding and towels are clean for round two should we need them.

"Ode" to Sara

2007-08-15T22:18:00.000-07:00

Today I bought two new bras. It was time, I have lost my pregnancy weight (for the second time) and have finished nursing my daughter (breasts are considerably smaller). What does bra shopping have to do with being a mom? Everything. My breasts have nursed two children and have fluctuated in size for the past several years due to pregnancies (gaining and losing weight)..

I went to Nordstrom to get fitted - and thank goodness I did. I was wearing a 38C and went to a 34DD (and as I explained to Dan who got excited "no, I did not get bigger breasts, the extra cup size offsets the number a little bit", but I think I lost him at DD). Apparently 8 out of 10 women are wearing the wrong bra size. For those who know me, you would not look at me and say "Double D", but that was what fit perfectly.

Let me just say that I love my Nordstrom lingerie salesperson - Sara. She spent at least a half hour finding the perfect bra for me (after measuring and double checking size) and she brought in bra after bra until we were satisfied. If you have never been fitted for a bra - YOU MUST GO! Please note that you cannot be embarrassed to have another person examine and contemplate your breasts (that you know about) and actually help you put on a bra. The way I figured it, this is nothing compared to the embarrassing moments associated with childbirth.

Once Sara's search was over, and I was happy, I realized that I didn't wear the right shirt to see if the bra passed the ultimate test - the fitted white t-shirt. No problem. Sara had the perfect shirt for this test. I put the shirt on, and OH MY GOODNESS - I looked great (if I do say so myself). It was like the Miracle Suit - lose 10 pounds in 10 seconds (a correct fitting bra can do that for you) and the t-shirt was so great that I bought that too. I was so pleased with the bra that I asked if I could wear it out of the store (like a little kid with new shoes). Sara said she got a lot of that and yes, I could. I wore the white t-shirt out too.

When I returned home I was still so happy about my purchase (I am embarrassed to say that each bra was about the cost of a good pair of shoes - but they will last) that I told my cousin Laura (who was babysitting) all about them. "Ooh, are they pretty?!" she asked. Uh no. They are that "nude" color without lace. But they were exactly what I wanted and needed: comfortable, wearable under t-shirts (including white) and durable with the added bonus of making me look better. I was not saddened by any means when Laura brought up aesthetics, of course she would want them to be pretty. She's 19. All bras are pretty at 19 (why would you wear one that isn't pretty at 19?). At 19, your breasts have lift all on their own.

I thanked Sara profusely after our time together. She was so helpful and kind. Then she informed me that the t-shirt I was wearing was a SMALL. I reached for her, hugged her tight and said, "I love you."

You Should Be Proud of Me

2007-08-12T19:17:00.000-07:00

Kelan is back in underwear after a week of diarrhea (some stomach thing going around). This is only important because he has been in Pull Ups for a week, which has gotten "us" a bit behind (read: regression) in making it to the potty on time. Tonight was no exception. Kelan was upstairs playing with his new train table (which is maybe why he did not say a word when he let loose a big poop in his underwear). After the load was released, he started asking for help - with his train table - NOT the poop situation. Dan went upstairs and realized the REAL problem (which was NOT the train table). Kelan was quickly escorted downstairs and turned over to me.

Where to begin. We start with the shirt - it can be used as a clean surface to place all poop clothing. Next the shorts - which are wet, hopefully from pee. Then the underwear......S L O W L Y. Kelan is directed to stand - without moving - on the shirt and the dry part of the shorts because he has poop ALL OVER his bottom, thighs and legs. Maybe I have become a cheapskate and do not want to buy more underwear, maybe I don't want to create more landfill or maybe I'm just too tired to think about it. But I start cleaning his underwear by holding it in the toilet while flushing it and swirling the underwear itself. It takes two flushes before I can even bring it out of the toilet to place on the pile of clothes Kelan has now been given permission to leave. I now start to baby wipe Kelan's lower half.

It has been a long day after a long couple of sleepless nights (Lauren is teething) but I seem to be managing this very gross clean up when Dan finally makes an appearance in the bathroom to start running the water for bath time. "You should be proud of me," he says, "I no longer have to use a tissue to get the hair out of the drain. I can just use my fingers." Excuse me? Hair in a drain? Can you not see what I am doing? How about poop.... everywhere. Please, I could lick the hair out of the drain at this point. I'm so tired that my only response is to start laughing so hard I cry. I point out his faux-pas and he begins to laugh too.

It's these moments that I cherish. Seriously. I love laughing so hard that you cry and it's even better with the person you love. I am proud of Dan, although it is not because he can now remove hair from a drain without a buffer, it is because he is a great father and husband. I know he is proud of me too - or at least grateful - that I did a super job on poop duty tonight.

Heirloom Tomatoes

2007-07-31T19:55:00.000-07:00

You know you're a mom when you can watch your three year old throw up his entire dinner on the table, the floor and himself, and then quickly clean up the table, the floor and the child and go back to eating your dinner. I know, because it happened to me.

Kelan had been complaining of a stomachache all afternoon and had not eaten anything since breakfast. He was a bit feverish and also mentioned that his right foot hurt. Who knows what was wrong with him, all I knew was that it was dinnertime and he wanted to eat bunnies and cheese (for those non parents or grandparents - this is mac and cheese with pasta that is shaped like bunnies). So I figured I would let him eat them if he wanted. Big mistake.

Within seconds of Kelan saying his stomach hurt again, he threw up all his bunnies (I don't think he even chewed them on the way down, because whole bunnies were pouring all over the table). Not a problem - we have baby wipes! I swear I will never cease to be amazed at how useful these things can be - I use them for EVERYTHING. I wipe Kelan down completely and move him into the living room (he's feeling MUCH better by this point). Dan starts throwing bath towels on the table and floor to catch the runaway bunnies and Lauren, unfazed, is still eating her bunnies. I "baby wipe" the table, the floor and Voila! good as new.

So good that I return to my dinner of heirloom tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, basil, balsamic vinegar and olive oil. Meanwhile Dan is taking his unfinished plate into the kitchen - he cannot eat another bite. All I can think of is that you NEVER waste an heirloom tomato. They are seasonal and quite possibly the best tasting tomato...ever (and this is coming from someone who does not even like tomatoes).

Maybe it was the tomato that kept me eating or maybe it is just the fact that this is not the grossest thing I have had to endure these past few years. I bet if you were to ask any mom out there they would say that their "gross out index" has changed dramatically since the birth of their first child (hell, the birth alone can do it for some). I guess I looked at it like my son really needed help, and that I was really still hungry.

Just a Little Help and Kindness

2007-07-16T14:26:00.000-07:00

This morning while the kids were eating breakfast I noticed that my husband, Dan, had circled an article for me to read in the Seattle PI. It was about how a father tried to take his toddler and baby in the stroller on the bus (loaded with groceries) only to be ordered to collapse the stroller and carry the bags, kids, and the stroller itself on board. Metro bus rules. So instead of a "compactly loaded vehicle with baby and toddler inside, [they] have a tangle of wheels, metal bars, bags and towels spread across the aisle and two howling kids to hold. Profuse perspiration, high stress. And no seat." Turns out that the bus driver still had a problem with this father (the stroller - apparently - was not collapsed enough) and in turn asked the father to get off the bus. Seriously.

I was incensed! In fact, there were many comments online against this poor father who had tried to have one less car on the road on a Sunday. I immediately wrote a letter to the editor in support because I too have been asked to collapse my stroller with a new baby and toddler in tow. It is a nightmare to juggle and carry a baby, toddler, stroller and diaper bag onto a bus. Adding insult to injury, I wasn't even offered a seat (people are definitely possessive of their seats here - I remember when I was 9 months pregnant with Kelan. I rode the bus home every day after work and lost track of how many times I had to stand with my fat swollen throbbing feet with my huge belly protruding into the other passengers at each jerk and stop of the bus - but that's another story).

It's now after lunch and I am still upset about all the comments made to this father about how he should not subject the rest of the bus riding public with his stroller and kids, that he should have just taken his car, etc. These ignorant people seem to think they came to this world by themselves, and dammit that's the only person they are going to look out for (you just know these are the same people who talk loudly on their cells in crowded buses). To hell with the mothers and fathers out there who need just a little extra help. I know for me, that the smallest gestures (like offering to take my grocery cart back to the store after I have unloaded groceries and kids) can often turn my day around if I'm having one of those challenging moments.

I am reminded of the time I took Kelan to his first movie. Disney's Ratatoullie was playing at our neighborhood theater and I took Kelan to the 12 o'clock show. Kelan was playing with the seat and climbing in and out of it when I noticed this prissy little man glare at me. I tried to make nice by explaining that this was his first time in a theater and that he would be sitting for the movie (note that the lights had not even dimmed at this point). He looked at me and said, "I hope so, or we can move". Excuse me? Did he just cop an attitude because he thought his little movie experience at a kid's film during prime kid hour would be compromised by a kid? If it was that important to him, maybe choose another time? He actually decided to move before the lights went down but I noticed that karma got him and his boyfriend because a family with a crying baby and toddler sat down right next to him. I couldn't help but smile.

I'm even amazed at the reproachful looks I get at times when our family is out to eat - at family friendly restaurants. I have seen couples wanting to have an intimate dinner at a family friendly restaurant at 5:30-6pm (prime kid hour) give me dirty looks! Go to a different restaurant if you don't want to hear little voices and some baby cries. We do not go to non family restaura
nts out of respect of other diners - you never know what you're going to get with Kelan and Lauren (and they are actually quite good in public). In fact, Dan and I even tip more than we used to because of the mess we leave.

I know kids can be challenging and there are those people who do not want to be around them. Fine. But you need them more than you realize. Our children (who already have a debt when they are born due to the mismanagement of this Administration - but I digress) will be the ones working, governing, and caring about us when we are old. It actually is in your best interest to be kind. That's all we're asking.

Wigawee Wigawee

2007-07-03T14:03:00.000-07:00

Kelan has a problem pronouncing his "L's" - so what he's really saying is, "wiggly wiggly". The sad part is, he's usually holding my bottom when he says this. There's a part of me that just wants to cover up in embarrassment when he does this, but then I remember, it's not embarrassing to him. He just sees things in this world as they are. My bottom is no longer the "buns of steel" they once were (okay, maybe they were never steel, but they were NOT jello). I guess the combination of 2 kids, no time to work out like I should and the bowl of ice cream each night gets me: wigawee wigawee.

That said, I am trying to teach my children a healthy/positive attitude about body image and sex. I know, I know - they are only (almost) 3 and 1 years of age - but I would like to set the stage where our bodies and sex are something we can talk about. That these topics are not taboo and there is nothing to be embarrassed about.

I took a "birds+bees+kids" class with my other co op preschool parents a couple of months ago. It was a class to learn how to talk to your kids about sex and our bodies. Great class. However I was amazed when the teacher said that children should know about sex by the age of five. Five!?! Yep, five. She wasn't talking about the down and dirty details, but just the basics and the real names of body parts. I was a little surprised, but then learned that it's better to learn from your parents (and not their friends who may not have a healthy outlook) and establish trust to talk about important and hard topics. Additionally, we can hope that our kids can learn to have a voice in the awful chance of an inappropriate relationship.

She went on to say that the conversations that you have with your preschooler are about 2 minutes over many months. They are not embarrassing to them (although the parents may not be breathing throughout those couple of minutes). In fact the first time I read this book, "What's the Big Secret" (a introduction to sex for young children), Kelan listened and then said "okay.... let's play trains". The teacher was right, he wasn't embarrassed, just curious in the same way as his wanting to know about how trains work.

Our teacher went on to say that these 2 minute conversations over the next couple of years are WAY easier than attempting your first "sex" conversation with a teenager. Makes sense. Set the stage for an open un-ending conversation now.

So I now try to answer Kelan the best way I can (and will do the same for Lauren) when he asks what my breasts are, what my vagina is, what his penis is, etc. Easier said than done, but I'm working on it.

Right now he's asking what tampons are. I take a deep breath - then answer. He now has a new phrase, "that tampon for your gina?". Is it better than wigawee wigawee? Hard to say.

Pediatric Punch Card

2007-06-20T13:03:00.000-07:00

Kelan got stitches (well, one stitch) this morning. He's not even three years old and he's had stitches twice, a split lip/gums (3 times), a black eye and countless bruises, cuts and scrapes. My sister even made him a t-shirt a year ago with a picture of the Fight Club pink soap and the quote, "The first rule of Fight Club, is that you do not talk about Fight Club". I think we need the next size up.

Lauren is not to be outdone. Last week we spent many hours over a couple of days at the pediatrician's office and the local children's hospital (for tests). Lauren - we assume - had a horrible stomach "thing" which gave her diarrhea (of course), high fever, irritability, loss of appetite and extreme diaper rash. No one could quite figure it out - but not due to a lack of testing (or attempt to test). She had her blood drawn, many attempts to get a urine sample - I won't even elaborate other than to say this is NOT fun - and she was poked and prodded. Finally she started to feel better this past weekend. Symptoms are now gone.

You would think I could be in the clear for awhile and not have to go back to our pediatrician's office. I was wrong. If I wasn't so worried about Kelan's bleeding gash on his forehead this morning, I might have been more embarrassed. As I walked into the waiting room, I stole a phrase from Kelan's "Vegas" repertoire, "I'm back!".

We must have looked ridiculous. Kelan was in a t-shirt, diaper and his red rubber rain boots - no shorts - and a big piece of gauze stuck to his forehead with a band-aid holding it in place. Lauren was in a long night gown of sorts and no shoes. I was decent only because Kelan's fall happened after I finished getting dressed. But with emergencies, you can not plan to have them when you are "ready", so you wear what you have on (or in Kelan's case, not have on).

I counted up the times I was either at the pediatrician's office or the children's hospital in the past week: FIVE! My punch card is full - I should get my next visit for free.

I HATE Potty Training

2007-06-13T12:34:00.000-07:00

We started potty training Kelan a couple of days ago. I HATE potty training. Why is it called potty training? They should just call it poop and pee on the floor training. I have realized that I do NOT have the patience needed for this - I may be changing Kelan's diaper until he's married (then his new bride can take over). I actually have a lot of patience for what my children "put out there" - but this is a whole new level.

People have told me that when you are potty training, this is all you do. They couldn't be more right - you really can't do ANYTHING else. Therein lies the problem. Kelan is actually fine on the potty and has peed and pooped many times, but now we're on a schedule every morning (sit on the potty the same time every day...) and I don't think he likes it. So while Kelan sits on the potty Lauren and I sit on the floor in the bathroom.

Sounds simple. But this is what is really going on: Kelan is getting on and off the potty (going against my constant reminders to sit), he's playing with the toilet paper, his feet, the toilet itself, saying he can't, then peeing a little bit, then peeing on the toilet seat and sliding off the toilet through the fresh pee. Meanwhile Lauren is crawling and somewhat walking around bumping her head on the sinks, playing with the toilet, then getting fussy because the bathroom door is closed. I open it and then she starts to climb the stairs (this is her FAVORITE activity). I get up and rescue her from the stairs, Kelan follows me. Then we all go back into the bathroom and start the whole routine over.

I'm trying to follow the "plan" which is to put Kelan on the potty at the same time every day and then put him in his underwear for an hour (the underwear helps him feel the sensation of pee and poop). Back to the potty for a bit and back in his underwear for another hour. Then the potty and finally the diaper (yay!).

I just can't stand the underwear time. He's peeing on the floor, pooping in his underwear, not telling me he has to go (and most times I ask him if he has to pee or poop - he says no and then goes on the floor). I remain calm (on the outside - but inside I am just getting angry and frustrated) and say, "it looks like you've had an accident, let's got sit on the potty." But then I have Lauren making a bee line for the pee/poop so I have to grab her, clean the mess, make sure Kelan is indeed on the potty and the whole thing starts over.

I want someone else to do this. I am exhausted by 10am and have no patience left for the rest of the day. - I'm totally frazzled. Today was especially hard, because after I put Kelan's diaper on - thank god, I proceed to get myself dressed so we can leave the house. I finish putting on my shirt and hear a "clunk" and turn around just in time to see Lauren falling down the stairs (she was only up about 4 stairs, but they are not carpeted so it does hurt). She whacked her head and started screaming. This all happened within a matter of seconds. So now I scoop up Lauren - make sure she's relatively okay, order Kelan to follow me to the car - we were going to the pediatrician's office! Lauren stopped crying within 3 minutes or so, but I was a wreck at this point so I needed a rational/sane person to tell me she was going to be okay. She is, thankfully.

Experts say to relax, it will happen (and so will accidents). My friends say this is just a messy time. I agree.

Begas Bacation

2007-06-12T12:36:00.000-07:00

That's what Kelan's called it (he has trouble with his V's) however, I would call it a Vegas ADVENTURE. Vacation is NOT a word I would use - and probably will never use - to describe traveling with children.

The plan was to find sun, water and pampering. We were on a budget (and I wanted some extra luxury - like water-side beverage service) so the ocean was out. We settled on Las Vegas because we were able to get a great package deal with airfare and hotel (5 nights). The trip was all set - we were going to stay at the Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino (all the research pointed us to this hotel for kids...) - I couldn't wait! I had my new miracle suit (the "lose 10 pounds in 10 seconds" kind of suit), sunblock, sunglasses, toys and floats for the kids - we were set!

My husband and I are lucky that our children travel well. We have a mini DVD player for the plane that kept Kelan occupied and Lauren pretty much slept. But just because they travel well, doesn't mean it isn't work. We were EXHAUSTED by the time we got to the hotel (the kids are heavy, the luggage is heavy, the car seats are heavy...).

The first room we were sent to had two double beds (I had requested a king - so the kids could sleep in between me and Dan). This room would not work. I called the front desk and fortunately they were able to find us a room with a king bed - getting into the room was another matter. They said they could change the code on the keys to let us in the new room without us having to go back to the desk. Here's to the joys of technology! Too bad it didn't work. Now we are trying to corral two tired cranky kids in the hallway while they send someone up to help us. I started to get cranky and decided to go down to the front desk myself (of course they arrived the minute I got into the elevator). This is only important, because I got a new set of keys that invalidated the keys Dan was getting. So we had several "lock outs" the first couple of days because of which keys we had when. It just became absurd after awhile - we couldn't get the most simple task to work - opening a door.

We could not wait to go swimming so we put on our bathing suits first thing (seriously, I lost 10 pounds in 10 seconds in my new suit - the "tag line" isn't lying. Now they just need to figure out a way to lose 10 pounds on the parts of your body that are NOT covered...). Mandalay Bay has many pools (apparently Vegas has not heard of water conservation - most hotels have 1+ pools and fountains galore - and of course here I am supporting this horrible waste of water - a feeling I couldn't quite shake during our week).

There was one faux ocean with waves - which is very cool, but unfortunately our kids are too young to go in, plus there are SO many rules to be able to swim there - it wasn't worth it. Next was the "lazy river" which had an intense current to float you around the small river - very fun with inter tubes (but hard to walk around holding a child). At last we found the perfect spot. The "normal" pool that was next to the "beach" (they have imported tons and tons of white sand so you can feel like you are at the beach). This became our usual spot in the mornings and afternoons because there was shade, sand, pool and beverage service.

The weather was having some "wind issues" when we got there. At times it felt very tropical (a light warm breeze), but then the wind would pick up and became quite strong. Too bad we did not pay more attention to the strength of this wind.

It was our first morning by the pool. We loaded the kids into the stroller, along with our gear (sunblock, change of clothes, diapers, wipes, digital camera, cell phones, etc.) and headed to the pool. We settled into "our" spot by parking the stroller next to our chairs with our towels and got the kids into the pool. The water was great and Lauren and Kelan loved the pool. The wind started to pick up and before we knew what was going on, our stroller blew into the pool with EVERYTHING in it. I'm not sure if I could have yelled, "oh shit!" any louder (new word for the day for the kids). I quickly lifted Kelan out of the pool and told him to SIT and NOT MOVE (Dan was holding Lauren). I dove frantically to the bottom of the pool retrieving the stroller, cell phones, the camera and the rest of the contents of the diaper bag. Unfortunately, the phones and camera drowned. On an aside, I did learn that contacts don't float away when you open your eyes under water - not much of a consolation - but an interesting observation.

I spent "quiet time" (12-2pm - the HOTTEST time of the day) that afternoon walking around a not so nice part of Vegas looking for a Cingular Wireless corporate store (after being directed to a local mall Cingular kiosk that could not help me). With the tops of my feet burned, 2 hours and $200 later, I returned to the hotel with a new cell phone. Dan's work would replace his phone when we returned to Seattle (thank god) and I would get another camera when we got home (sadly, my camera and phone were already replacements for ones that were stolen last October - but that's another story).

Eating turned out to be more expensive than I thought. Whatever happened to all those cheap "all you can eat" buffets that were supposed to be everywhere in Vegas? Or maybe I have become super cheap and expect all meals to be around the price of our local Seattle taqaria. We ate mostly at the hotel (cabs would just add on to the dining "bill" and then what do you do with two car seats? Walking was out of the question - Vegas is NOT a stroller kind of town). There were many restaurants in the hotel itself - but we went to Raffles (American fare) for most meals. Kelan figured out that he was a "regular" by the second or third visit and started to announce his presence by stating (very loudly), "I'm back!" EVERY time we entered the restaurant. In fact he had his own little routine. After his entrance, we'd eat, then he would take off running through the restaurant (sometimes managing some laps) ending up in the entry hall to dance. The breakfast and lunch crowd thought this was funny, but the dinner crowd wasn't as amused. I personally thought it was hysterical every time he did it.

Other experiences included (but are not limited to) Lauren's allergic reaction to something (she got a really bad skin rash that made her SCREAM when we put sunblock on her or put her in the pool on the 3rd and 4th day), the kids not sleeping that well, Lauren's fever the second to last night of our stay, navigating the stroller through various casinos while attempting to walk the strip, and Kelan escaping and running top speed through the casinos.

The funny thing is, we had a good time. Yes, there are things we learned and would most likely do differently, but we did enjoy ourselves. The fountain/water show at the Bellagio was great and seeing Lauren and Kelan's faces while watching it made the walk down the strip worth it (plus they have great ice cream there). Things that kept happening to us were so ridiculous at times, that Dan and I laughed so hard we cried (and couldn't stop). And I didn't have to cook or clean for almost a week (you can't beat that with a stick). We spent days and nights together as a family and I hope that this is just one of many family adventures we will have.

It was not a vacation (we are NOT well rested by any means), but we have great memories (no pictures, sadly). I will always remember the way Lauren looked in her little sun hat sitting on a beach chair playing with sand (and eating it - with a big smile on her face). I will remember Kelan thanking our hostess at "our" restaurant ("thank you SO much" he would say on his way out, just before he would dance). I will remember asking my husband to bring me back some ice cream (after the kids went to sleep) and getting ice cream for himself and forgetting mine (yes I sent him back out to get some). I will remember this trip and laugh out loud every time. Viva Las Vegas!

Entourage

2007-05-22T13:40:00.000-07:00

As a stay at home mom, my children go EVERYWHERE with me. My own private posse. This is why I am a stay at home mom - to spend time with my children - but when Kelan and/or Lauren are having an "off" day (or the day turns into something more than we bargained for) my outing can be quite challenging.

Kelan and Lauren have become "regulars" at my chiropractor's office and I have even managed to get rolfed with Lauren (who was an infant at the time) sitting on my lap. Grocery shopping has now become so second nature with both kids, that I can get in and out of the store (with the stuff I need) in under an hour. The key is to lock Kelan into the cart's baby seat and put Lauren in the basket with the groceries. I imagine this will work for not too much longer - she's now standing in the cart waving at the other customers. They have gone to my OB/GYN appointments, the dentist, my regular doctor, clothes shopping (trying on clothes IS a challenge), you name it - we've done it together.

This morning I went to the gym, with the kids in tow, to swim. They do have childcare there, so I don't have to take them in the pool with me, however they do make the trip downtown. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I swim for a half hour and then quickly shower and retrieve the kids (all done in an hour - needless to say I'm leaving the gym not looking quite the way I would like).

I started swimming two days a week as part of my training for the Danskin Triathlon in August, but this hour has turned into something more important to me. It is so incredibly ... MINE. My head is in the water for a half hour, so I don't hear too much except splashing. I can think about the day's activities, process my thoughts, or just count laps. It doesn't matter. I hear no crying and I am not responsible for diapers, food, runny noses, or conflict disputes.

There's usually not too many people there late morning - however one day every lane was occupied when someone came into the pool area to swim. I was just waiting for him to ask me to share my lane and I was actually planning on telling him no. I was going to explain to him that this was my ONLY half hour to myself in the whole day and since I can't go to the bathroom by myself, I felt I did not have to share my lane. He did not ask. My mommy selfishness/rudeness averted.

Yesterday I actually went to the grocery store by myself (my husband was home sick and stayed with the kids while I shopped). I got to use one of those new "fancy" carts - you know, the double decker one that no mom with kids can use. It was uplifting. I zipped around the store with so much ease that I was forgetting some items on my list. I realized this and said, "we forgot the oatmeal!" I would like to say that I said this to myself, but that is not the case. I said it out loud for any shopper to hear. I started to laugh at myself further proving that I was the crazy lady in the store.

Even though I need some private time during the day, I guess I need my entourage to make me look a little bit less crazy - or at least to be the visible reason as to why I am.

Happy Sunday

2007-05-13T08:58:00.000-07:00

Today is mother's day. I may be one of the few mothers that thinks it's not a big event. It still seems like a forced day to celebrate. In reality, I think EVERY day should be "mother's day" - but I'll settle for a mother's day (read: free day) once a week.

I didn't grow up celebrating mother's day. My mother never made a big deal about it - so I didn't think it was something (I guess I always missed that HUGE section in the Hallmark stores - how that is possible, I don't know). In fact, when I went to college, and mother's day rolled around, everyone was ordering flowers, sending cards, buying gifts and planning big brunches. I remember thinking to myself, what's the big deal? Do people really celebrate this? Was I being mean by not even calling my mom? Most years, it never occurred to me, but as got older and my social circle widened beyond my immediate family and childhood friends, I realized that most people made a big fuss over this day.

Fast forward to mother's day 2004. I am pregnant with Kelan and we're having my husband's parents up for the day to celebrate his mother's birthday and .... mother's day. I had been celebrating this "combination" with my in laws for a couple of years now (I'm "pro-birthday" - we were all born, but felt it silly to celebrate mother's day). I felt that I could do this combination one more time, because I wasn't a mom yet (as a mom I really did not want to celebrate it). But I got the "Happy Mother's Day" well wishes anyway (I was a mom to be and that seemed to count). In the big picture of what actually matters, who cares really about celebrating or not celebrating this day. We were spending time with family and that is what counts.

Nope. I still don't want to celebrate mother's day. It's a made up day and don't want to take part in the party.

I actually had a conversation with my mother-in-law about why it was so important to her and why I don't "believe in it" for myself. She told me that she was born on mother's day (her birthday is on May 11th and some years it lands on the DAY itself). She always felt very close with her mother and it was their day (she's the oldest of her siblings - great mother's day present for her mother the year she was born). Well that is special. That makes sense to me. I told her that my mother raised me not to give it a thought - so it was hard for me to think it was important. We reached an understanding.

Now I find myself going out of my way to avoid celebrating the day. It's actually hard. One year I planned a trip to Houston (to visit my mom) and was traveling back to Seattle on mother's day - can't celebrate, I'm out of town. I have had the in laws out to visit the weekend before Mother's Day - to celebrate birthdays and not mother's day.

However this year my aunt and uncle came up to Seattle for a visit and brought Goode Co. BBQ and pecan pies (our family travels with food). We had a lunch today at my grandparents. I tell myself that I went for the food and family - but there's the "hovering" mother's day out there that I can't quite get away from.

Since I have had to go out of my way to NOT celebrate these past couple of years, I have developed an ill will towards this day. Before I did not even know which day it was (much less which month), but now I have to be prepared because it will find me and I need to be ready.

I know that I should get over it, but I'm not there yet. I figure if it is "my" day, then I can choose not to celebrate it. So for today - I'll just wish everyone a happy Sunday.

I'm a "don't"

2007-05-10T22:23:00.000-07:00

I see myself with one of those black bars across my eyes in some parenting magazine's article on sleep . There's my picture (with the black bar) and the subtitle above it reads: what not to do.

Most of my family and friends know that my children have sleep problems - so this is not new information. Additionally, I have never been a good sleeper. (In fact, I recently found out that my pediatrician prescribed "happy drops" when I was a baby so I would go to sleep. What the hell is that about? I asked my mom what they were - but she doesn't remember). However, when your kids are not good sleepers - that is a bigger problem. I am up and down so much during the night that I'm getting a couple of 2 hour naps every night. Lauren wakes up 1-3 times a night and Kelan wakes up once but comes down and crawls into bed with me (and Dan goes up to Kelan's bed - our nighttime game called musical beds).

So last night I went to a sleep class to try to gain some knowledge on what to do to help our situation. I put Lauren down early so I could leave her home with my husband, Dan, and Kelan (she fell asleep pretty easily because she didn't take her afternoon nap - whether or not she would stay asleep was a whole other issue). It was a small group of about 7 families (I say families, because everyone had their partners with them, except one pregnant woman). But that wasn't the big kicker for me (I remember the days when Dan and I went to classes like these together.... now we use the "divide and conquer" approach to evening events). Half of the class were pregnant couples. The other folks had newborns. Okay, one family had a 4 month old. My youngest was 8 months older than the oldest kid in the class. These people didn't have problems. I have problems. I haven't gotten real sleep in almost three years! That said, if I had gone to one of these classes way back when, maybe I would have. That may have been my first mistake.

I consider myself a pretty good mom and have helpful advice on occasion, but tonight in this class I felt like an idiot. I was the only one there with two kids - so I do have more actual experience as a parent - but as I was introducing myself and giving a brief description of my "issue" you could just feel every one's horror with my sleep issues. In fact some of the fathers to be looked down right frightened.

Some of the new parents were offering up their own advice to the parents to be (what's the best swaddling blanket? pacifier? nursing to sleep? co sleeping?). I felt I couldn't say anything. Like everyone would remember what I said and use it as their prime example of what NOT to do. They had heard my story and would NOT want it to happen to them. Sitting in the classroom I felt like a big DON'T.

I stayed after class to talk with the instructor to get some personalized help, until I got the call. Come home - NOW. Lauren had woken up 10 minutes after I had left the house (and had been fussy ever since) and now Kelan was awake. I arrived home at 9:45pm to the relief of my husband and to the joy of my children. My evening had JUST begun.

Want to dance?

2007-05-09T14:09:00.000-07:00

Kelan likes to dance. Lauren does too (although her dancing is more like the sit down twist). We dance a lot during the day to music at home, in the car (a buckled in version, of course), to me singing, and to TV theme songs. Yep. Everyday during quiet time I put on one of Kelan's favorite PBS programs (Sesame Street, Thomas and Friends, Bob the Builder, Dragon Tales, Clifford...) wanting to immediately start MY time, but I have learned that in order to avoid a melt down, I must dance.

I have learned the words to most of the songs and sing along with Kelan at the beginning of EVERY show. Normally I have to hold a Thomas the train (or one of his many friends) while dancing. The beginning of these shows only last for 15-20 seconds, but sometimes feels like its forever when I have to go to the bathroom, put Lauren down for a nap, eat something, chat with a friend (the phone is a definite no no during dancing) or one of my many tasks I have to do in my "free" hour. It gets especially tough when some of these programs are only 6-8 minutes long and they have a new song at the beginning of every episode (yes, I have to dance at every theme song during quiet time).... or when Elmo sings during Sesame Street.

However when I see Kelan's face while dancing - I am reminded that it is all worth it. His smile is pure joy. Isn't this why I am a stay at home mom? These little moments are WONDERFUL to share with my kids. How long will I get to sing and dance with my children - how long will they want me to? So when I hear the question (as I will inevitably will), "Mommy, want to dance?" My resounding answer will be...YES!

My new blog...

2007-05-07T13:34:00.000-07:00

I am constantly talking about my kids and my highs and lows as a parent with everyone and anyone who will listen. I was inspired to create a blog by my mother's (Rockbridge Times) and my sister's (Welcome to Sunnyside) blogs.

I continue to be amazed at what moms do for their children (me included). My children, Kelan - almost 3 years, and Lauren (almost a year) keep me chasing after them 24 hours a day. Seriously, it does not end with "night night". That is only the beginning. In fact right now (after lunch) is my favorite time of the day - quiet time. Lauren is napping and Kelan is watching one of his favorite PBS programs. It is about the ONLY time of the day I can process a thought, eat lunch, rotate the laundry, email (or now - blog), make any number of house maintenance calls, clean the kitchen, go to the bathroom alone or just sit and not do anything. Of course, this like any other time is subject to change without notice.

I have an intensely energetic 2 1/2 year old. Seriously. He stopped napping at 21 months. He runs and runs all day long. Grabbing everything he can see, climbing everything that will hold him (he's a big kid - about 38 pounds) or not, and thinks of things to do that I haven't even fathomed. I think he is a lot like me when I was little - but with added "boy energy". My "mom's curse" worked ("I hope you have kids just like you..."). He can open (and unlock) doors and run outside within milliseconds. This coupled with Lauren, who is crawling faster everyday (and now standing - more things for her to grab and stick in her mouth) - makes for an interesting day. Additionally, both kids are incredibly vocal about their needs/wants and dislikes. Kelan's "I'll do that" and "not like it" are constant phrases in his repertoire and Lauren has learned to grunt and whine so loud to grab my attention away from Kelan (this has got to be a 2nd kid thing...).

This is the hardest job I have ever had, but wouldn't change a thing. Well, maybe a couple of hours each week for myself... I dedicate this blog to my children (angels) for everything that they bring into my life - the good, bad, funny, sad, hysterical, irritating, sweet, sticky, happy, smelly, messy and wonderful.