Why a Vacation Sans Kiddos Is Not a Vacation

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

Best Friends

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

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


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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Magical Adventure, Part Two: The Sistahs

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

Magical Adventure, Part One

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

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

WHEELS IN MOTION

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

THE DEAL

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

THE HAIRCUT

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

THE RACE IN A FREAK STORM

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

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

MAGIC WINGS

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

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

The Pelican Beach

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

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

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

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

But what you do get is this:


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

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

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

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


Not a bad view at all :)

It was good while it lasted

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

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

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

Now the mother of a FIVE-year-old

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wishing Others Happiness

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

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

Farm Fresh Fridays

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

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


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

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

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

Confidence=Creativity

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

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

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

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

My Mother's Day Letter

Dear Kids,


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

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

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



And you:


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

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

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

All the love in the world,
Mama M

Word to All the Muthas

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Mother's Day

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

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

Great Expectations

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

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

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

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

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

Until then... the specialists await. Gulp.

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

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

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

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

Work to Play

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



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

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

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

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

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

Is Your Personal Blog Dead? SXSW Recap

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

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

YOUR PERSONAL BLOG IS DEAD

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

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

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

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

Some interesting observations from the audience:

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

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

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

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

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

Why? Why? The Wonder of Wondering

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

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

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

And so on, and so on.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh Mamas! Little Fish, Big Pond

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leavin' On a Jet Plane

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Quietest Game

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

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

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

And that's where The Quietest game comes in.

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

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

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

no reason, no warning

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



I also cleaned up the pantry a little:


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

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

Aaaaaahhhhh....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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