DailyWhine

Worth waiting for...

2011-08-25T07:16:00.000-07:00

When it comes to being truly content--as a mom or otherwise--I don't believe there's any room for wanting, wishing or even hoping for more. You just spend every day in awe of how fortunate you are, and do your best to live out that sense of gratitude for what you've been given.
I remember wondering how life could get any better in Benjamin's first year of life...how my heart could grow enough to make room for another child, or how I'd even be able to love another child the way I did my first. But of course the arrival of Jonny proved--in an instant--that there's always more. Of everything.

And I also remember, some two or three years after Jonny was born, feeling SO unbelievably happy and content as a mom of my two boys...in so many ways I felt that having boys was absolutely the fullest expression of who I was as a mom. That I was becoming good at it, and for certain--I was lucky. I guess that's just what you do, as a mom. As a parent. You take what's given and don't wonder what could have been, what that child could have become...you just feel grateful for who they are and marvel at how they change your life. And you spend every day doing your best not to mess them up.
But I also remember, deep down, knowing that I had room for one more...that Brian and I probably had no business stretching our house, budget or even sanity any further than we had...but that if we could be lucky enough to make it happen, it would be right. For all of us.

And so it went. Without much logical planning or thinking on our parts--along came pregnancy #3. Totally without warning or real forethought...but rather an absolute and undeniable measure of perfection. The timing was right, even though we didn't know that immediately.
But of course one question seemed to dominate those first weeks (and months) of my pregnancy: "Are you going to find out???"
And I just kept thinking to myself..."what? WHAT am I going to find out??" What piece of news about this baby could in any way make a difference in how I prepared my home--and heart--for its arrival...there was definitely no way I was gonna run out and paint the nursery pink just because I learned I was having a girl...and for SURE I wasn't about to endure the "ohhh, wow...another boy!" comments from friends and strangers. Because let's be honest, the only thing worse than the ridiculous urgency others feel for all news relating to your belly is the sense of expectation and relative certainty that others feel for what your family dynamic needs.

But deep down--in a place that no one knew existed, and to this day I don't believe anyone really does--I was content. Happy with either outcome...and waiting for--if anything--just to have the chapter closed, to have the third child. Certainly I became stir crazy at times and just wanted to KNOW already, but something in me told me to wait. For the right time.

For her arrival.

Needless to say, the moment Francie came into the world was many things: miraculous, full of joy, shocking, game-changing...and above all else, totally and completely peaceful. Full of grace.
And looking back now, I realize how right I was to wait for that moment. To let that kind of news sink in alongside the bleary-eyed and euphoric early moments of life with a newborn. It all made sense. SHE made total and complete sense from the very first moment she was here. It was the same way I felt rocking Benjamin to sleep in his first few weeks--that all along I'd known it would be him.
And intuitively, without question, I knew...I knew...it was her.
Frances Grace.

I guess that's one of the most beautiful things I've learned as a mom--how little control I truly have, if any, and that the best thing to do is just wait for what God has in store. Sure I can dream, plan and anticipate...but only in limited ways. If there is ever a part of me that hoped for a girl--and surely there was--it was always balanced with a real sense of humility. Absolute and all-out surrender to the randomness of life, of pure chance, of reproductive odds.:)

And now here I sit, one year later, marvelling at this absolute miracle that is my sweet, precious, baby girl. The ways she has changed the life of my family are endless, and run the spectrum from the color of our laundry to the way Brian smiles. The pride and total joy that her older brothers feel toward her manifests in new ways every day. Life with 3 has proved to be a place we all knew, on some level, we needed.

As for me, there are far too many ways in which my life has changed than I can describe. No real way to put it to words...even for me.
All I know was that there was a time, not long ago, that I thought I understood how truly beautiful and full my life could be.
But I had no...no idea.

Frances Grace, your many different smiles fill my every day with absolute joy and total awe. Our entire family has changed in ways never imagined. You are a light, no doubt...and I am grateful each day for the grace by which you came.

I love you, sweet baby girl.
Happy Birthday.

Oh, the Places You Won't Want to Go...

2011-03-22T12:59:00.000-07:00

The following list should've been included in my discharge papers from the hospital with Jonny:
"Places you will think you belong with your two boys, when in reality--you won't"

Topping this list would be the local library. The top five would most likely also include places like book stores, trendy deli/restaurants (or any establishment that attempts to play music or encourage conversation), as well as the grocery store.
A polite disclaimer would preceed the list, reading something like:
"While said places will appear on the outside as reasonable and even enticing, you'll be better served remembering that such experiences just aren't realistic. Get a coffee, hit the mall play area or better yet--an open field. You'll need your strength, so don't fight it. Choose peacefulness, even if it involves the random case of pink eye from public bounce toys."

But more importantly, at the end of said list would be a comforting phrase or two, with contact info for local therapists, carpet cleaners, pharmacies, bars...and being realistic, the police.
"Congratulations on the birth of your second son" it would read..."and please remember our post-partum nurses are not only available 24hrs a day, but in 4 to 5 years, as well. Remember not to sweat the small stuff...there's chardonnay for that. And meds. Never forget the power of drugs. Congratulations to you and your family...enjoy this special time!"

Lessons from the Mat

2010-06-18T08:51:00.000-07:00

Benjamin asked me the other day why I go to yoga so much.

Wow, talk about a simple, reasonable enough question that does not, unfortunately, have a simple answer.
But I still managed to keep it brief (shocking). I think my answer was something along the lines of "Well, because it is really good exercise for my body, but also makes me feel really good on the inside...so it's kind of like exercise for my body and my brain."
He seemed satisfied enough, and since then has even made a few off-hand comments that have made me smile. Or just laugh. When I came home from my prenatal yoga a few nights ago, he asked me if I felt "all better inside"...this made me grin the biggest grin and respond with "absolutely, I do". And then just yesterday, when I was grunting while trying to tie my shoes (3rd trimester thing), he suggested I go to my yoga class and tell my brain "not to worry so much". I loved it.

And while his basic understanding of why I practice is--at this point in his life--very simple, it's important to me.
However, I didn't realize at first that it would be. Not when I first began, anyway. But like with anything kids learn to understand about their world, about life, there's a slow unfolding that I believe is so deeply rooted in what they see us do...and so yeah, I'm glad he's at least interested in knowing the why.
And yet, were neither of my boys to ever ask me why I practice, I'm not sure I would necessarily sit them down and explain it to them. I can't imagine that scenario...not even 5 or 10 years from now. Sure, I'll offer up classes to them like I will every other type of activity, but the meaning behind my own committment is not something I imagine being able to articulate. Nor do I think anyone really can...which, is one of the many aspects of yoga I appreciate. It's not about ribbons, awards, status, etc...or least of all, end results. It's about the process, the becoming, the ever-changing transformation of mind and body.

I learned pretty early on in my practice of yoga that it was going to be a good fit, and the more I stuck with it, the more convinced I became that it wasn't ever going to end. I wouldn't stop after I made it through a particularly tough workshop--or even after I got the "yoga butt" I'd heard so much about. I felt certain I'd be at it for the rest of my life for two very distinct reasons: for one, the teachings and lessons involved seemed to not only support and reinforce my own views on life, relationships, parenthood, etc...but they were helping them grow and get better. The second reason is about community. The people I practice with, the energy in the room, the overwhelming (and refreshing) lack of status and comparison that exists--yet the way that acceptance and support actually makes you work harder and with more integrity than any other kind of measureable result...all of it, it had me hooked from the start.

I'm only a few years in...a baby, really, at this yoga thing. But as sure as I am of how insignicant that fact is--that years and "levels" really don't matter, I'm also aware of how much more there will always be to learn.
One of my teachers likes to quote his Tai Chi master all the time in his efforts to remind us of how critical our ability to be humble is to the practice..."there is no end result, only the process and effort you give in getting there...and when you think you've done and learned it all, let me know, because there will be more." (I may have butchered that, but the gist is there:) )
I guess what I'm getting at is that, while I've only been at this a short time, I get how important it is--and how central it's always going to be in my life.

And so...while I know that I can't ever force Benjamin, Jonathan or even Brian (you wanna talk long shots) to sign up for classes, I still hope that by staying committed to it I'll continue to just get better at my own life in way that impacts them positively. Meaning, the happier I am with myself, the more freedom they'll feel in becoming who they want and are meant to be...or, in the short term, the less anger I'll feel at my shoelaces, thus creating a greater sense of calm for Benjamin while we get ready to walk out the door.
It's all about the small moves in life, right?

If I were to give Benjamin a list of reasons, at this very moment, as to why I practice yoga so much--and in his defense, I've upped my time away from home to practice each week since I got pregnant, so the kid has a right to ask questions--I'd start with a few basic points:

1. alone time--even in a class full of people
2. my back and butt have gotten stronger...minor detail, but still--I'm not mad about it
3. the neighborhood/community is truly a sanctuary for me, especially as it gets me out of my comfort zone each week (though oddly enough, it's become one of my safest and most comfortable environs)
4. I have fabulous--fabulous--teachers
5. no one's looking at me or judging my ability
6. I'm not looking at anyone else or judging their ability
7. everyone gets stronger and goes deeper anyway (and I would argue in ways only made possible by this implied sense of individual integrity and ownership--no one can push me harder than myself)
8. learning that it's not about "getting into and holding a pose", but rather understanding my body and how to properly align it...and then "pulsing" in and out of my own fullest expression of that pose
9. knowing that it's ok to have on "off week"
10. I now have better posture--and yes, oh yes...less back pain

I'd give Benjamin these reasons and maybe even launch into some sort of conversation with him about how important each of these points is to living a balanced life and above all else--being a good person (well, minus Mommy's yoga butt). And then I'd tell him that if there was one thing I hope for him to always know and understand, in everything he ever does, tries or sets out to do...it'd be not to compare himself to others. To never let how someone else does in a race, on a test, or even what they earn---to never, ever let it determine his own sense of worth. When he wins, he wins...but not because someone else is slow or not as good at it as he is. And when he loses, he loses...but not because somebody else was given an unfair advantage. Good or bad, it all rests squarely on him. What he does with that will define his character.

But he'll never see that list. Nor will we ever have that talk.
But we'll talk a lot (he'll make sure of it)...and hopefully along the way he'll come to understand it all on his own.

Just a few hours ago we shared our Wendy's lunch (hey--I'm pregnant) at the kitchen island and he commented on the fact that I had a bigger drink than he did. I responded with something like "Yes, but someday when you're bigger and a grownup like me, you'll get a bigger cup, too."
To which he replied: "Yeah, but it's ok my cup is smaller, because it's enough for me right now...right?"

Right.

Add one more lesson to that list: your kids will be your greatest teachers of all.

Critical Moments in Parenthood

2010-06-16T08:44:00.000-07:00

I had one of these this morning...I think.
Before I go on, I should probably apply a sub-heading here: Raising Jonathan.

This child is so unbelievably hard to predict--which, most of the time, just adds to his charm. Other times it makes my hair prematurely grey, and often even makes me wonder what in the world I've done wrong...you know, to bring out the crazy.

But what I find happens the most is that his randomness just makes me LAUGH. Problem is, it's usually at a moment when I know full well I shouldn't be laughing. That "critical moment" as a parent when you know that falling apart in giggles will only bring about more of the behavior at hand.

Yesterday it was at the park, when Jonathan was playing with his brother and a few pals in the giant sandbox. I was chatting away with his friend Henry's mom, while the boys enacted all sorts of super-hero scenarios in and out of the sandbox...seemed innocent and normal enough. Until that moment...the one where you're listening to your friend tell a story, and yet you see something unfolding that is going to completely derail everything she's saying.
And that "something" would be my son Jonathan, butt-ass-naked, doing a jig in the woodchips and laughing hysterically.
It's like all of the decorum of a normal adult conversation is lost...it simply can't survive moments like these. And I feel badly, because I feel like I am constantly the unattentive friend, neighbor, etc. in conversations. Well, when Jonathan's around, anyway. It's like the worst case of ADD...and it happens everywhere: the playground, the neighborhood playtime scene, on the phone (don't even GET me started on the impossibility of that), the preschool pickup, really just about anywhere we are. I am unable to maintain focus on anything, because Jonny is always---I mean always--a few beats away from entering Crazyland.

I'd like to mention here (kinda off-topic) how grateful I have always been for the friends/family members who get it...maybe they have boys themselves (and this is the best padding of all, really) or they simply just appreciate the goofiness. I'm always super relieved to have a friend laugh right outloud with me when Jonny strips naked--it takes the pressure off in a way. Unlike those awful moments when I find myself around moms (who either have only girls or are just plain uptight or grumpy--I find it's most often the latter) whose children are just happily playing, quietly and without much fanfare, by themselves on the playground. Jonathan pretty much ruins those idyllic moments for the parents of those children in a matter of minutes. And my attempts to bring him back to Earth only seem to make things worse--or rather, me more embarrassed by the amazing contrast in behavior.

Fortunately I find myself mostly delighted at my child's craziness. Yes, it's awkward in public when he chooses to "sing" his order to the Jersey Junction employee (Hey now, you're a rock star, getch-yer game on, go PLAY! Spiderman popsicle!!)...or when he decides to pat his "pee pee" and laugh uproariously in the cereal aisle at the grocery--you know, instead of just saying "I have to pee, Mommy". These moments try me on a daily basis...and often embarrass me.
But deep down I'm pretty much enjoying the ride.
He is one difficult kid to predict--and holy cow, it can be fun. And almost always funny.

This morning I was in his room while he got dressed when he turned to me, shirt on and no pants...underpants on, but with a special surprise sticking out of the "hole" in front. And his face said it all: this had just been way too hard to resist for him.
"Mah-hah-hah-meee..." (he could hardly talk for the ensuing giggles to come) "Look at my pee pee...it's sticking out..hahahahha...it wants to be out!"

I'm not sure if it was the sheer sight of his lil' snausage poking out of the underwear "hole" that made me laugh the most...or if it was the rationale that he applied to the situation. Apparently the pee pee has feelings, too, and just needed to get some air.

Anyway, I think I managed to look disapproving for all of .2 seconds...and then I just lost it. And the look on his face when I began to laugh was just so Jonny. It's a look I see often--and while it's harmless, it often makes me worry about the longer-term impact. It's an expression that says "Haha, yeah, I'm a little bit crazy and a whole lotta naughty, but damn if people don't seem to find me funny..."

Sigh...what's to be done?
I guess the most important thing is that the child's got spirit...and total personality. And at the end of the day, it's this fact alone that makes me feel ok. I just pray he's not the one launching spitwads at highschool graduation.

The Gender Files

2010-04-23T13:14:00.001-07:00

Not finding out "what" we're having this pregnancy has caused a lot of conversation...with friends, family, etc...but mostly with our boys. And every bit of it's been hilarious. So add yet another reason to my ever-growing list of reasons NOT to find out what you're having: witnessing the reasoning in your little ones' heads as they ponder which would be more fun. Or even better--what the name of said child should be.

Today's conversation with Benjamin was so hysterical it made me feel like blogging again. Moments like these...they're the reason I ever did this in the first place, so it's fitting.

Sitting next to me on the front porch and playing "I spy", each of us with a popsicle:

Benjamin: "I think I know what your baby's name should be, Mommy, if it's a girl."
(also hilarious that it's just randomly going to be "my baby"...not his sister or brother, etc.)

Me: "Oh yeah? What do you think?"

Benjamin: (with no trace of humor in his voice) "Peaches."

Me: (forearm over mouth to suppress laughter, so as to get to the next obvious question and have the answer delivered with equal seriousness) "And what if it's a boy? What would we name him?"

Benjamin: (pausing to look at sky while working on popsicle--and then suddenly looking proud of his certainty on the matter) "Grilled Cheese."

Well, OBVIOUSLY that settles that ongoing debate in my head.

Thanks, Steph.

2010-03-05T20:26:00.000-08:00

Had a great dinner out with a friend tonight...great food, good drinks (they are possible without booze, who knew?)...but of course, even better conversation. It was during this very lily-pad-style (a Meg-ism to be explained another time) chat that the following phrase was used: "10, 20 years from now...what will be most important to me? what choice will I be happiest with?"
And it was in that moment that I finally turned the corner this week from being frustrated, grumpy, sad, lonely...and just overall pissed off (God I love how much more honest I can be on my blog that on fucking facebook) at the state of my single-mommy-hood.
I'm not even going to get into that topic right now...it's too personal and far too nuanced and complicated to put out there right now--but suffice it to say, I needed a good night out with a friend. Also didn't suck that I heard one of my favorite songs in the car tonight while driving to meet my friend for dinner--Forever Young by Rod Stewart. Cheeseball? Oh yeah...totally. But if you haven't heard it for a while, I suggest listening to it super freakin loud in your car. And if you have kids, well, good luck not getting something out of it.

Anyway.
So fast-forward to my sitting down at the computer tonight, exhausted and ready to just quick check email and facebook and go to bed...yet finding myself writing the most ridiculously long list of things I'm grateful for and happy about in my status update. Now, for one, no one needs to be that damn smug and happy on their FB page...but also? I had too much to say, so here I am.
And if I didn't think it was so damn important to write down (for my own posterity), I wouldn't even bother. After all, my lack of blogging the past several months has had nothing to do with life being boring or without moments of interest---it has, rather, had everything to do with my lack of committment to anything that takes more than 5 minutes of my time.
Pathetic.

So, here's my list (because I do love a list). Moments of meaning, bullet-pointed tales of adorableness, random shit...you get the idea--basically just the many things (and only in the last week) that help me to better answer those afore-mentioned questions discussed with my friend. The stuff of my convinctions. Here are a few:

*Benjamin taking Jonny's hand to walk him to the front of church last Sunday morning...a routine moment in the church service, when the kids are excused to church school...but also a moment, until this past Sunday, that has REQUIRED my accompanying Jonathan to the front steps. And yet this time, he just went with his brother. I will never, ever, ever forget the image of the two of them walking down the aisle away from me...Jonathan squeezing "Benny's" hand...or the way they looked standing next to one another, still holding hands (with super serious expressions) while they recited their response to the congregation.

*the always ubrupt noise of their voices in the morning--but how precious and adorable it is at the same time, as they chatter from their bunk beds and discuss their plans for the day--or, in their case, the next ten minutes. I cannot put into words how extra adorable they have become with these bunk beds--better sleepers, better friends...better brothers.

*Benjamin, upon realizing this morning that we had to "take Mr. Hoppy back to preschool", crumbling into a million, sad little pieces. Not grumpy, stubborn, I'm-not-getting-my-way-crying....no, that would be easier to take. But real, heart-wrenching sadness over having to "say goodbye to Hoppy". Mr. Hoppy had, afterall, in Benjamin's own words---"been such a great buddy and so fun to take care of".
I will never forget the way he pulled himself together in the car and announced to me, just as we were pulling up to preschool: "I just don't want my friends to see that I'm sad...but I really am inside. I just love Hoppy so much and hate seeing him leave our home."
I'll also never forget the subsequent trip Benjamin made with me to Pooh's Corner this afternoon...a rare moment for the two of us to be alone together, when he had the chance to pick out a "new friend who needed a home". Not sure what was more touching--the way he took such time in selecting the perfect stuffed dog (because P.S. there are a LOT of freakin choices at Pooh's Corner), or the way he announced to the cashier that he'd found the one animal that "most looked like he wanted to get out of this store"...that line actually made me laugh right out loud, but I knew exactly what he meant, and it was precious.
We had an imaginary ladybug hunt when we got home, as it was determined on the ride home that that would be the meal of choice for the new pet. Yup...that was pretty damn adorable, too.

*the way Jonathan ALWAYS seems to be saying one of the following to me: "sshhure, Mommy!", "thanks, Mommy!", or "yeahhh...let's go, Mommy!"...the kid is just so damn positive. when he's not whining.

*reading about Dinosaurs with Benjamin on the couch and realizing it's 1:30 in the afternoon...and that in a very short amount of time I'll wonder if I was appreciative enough of those moments while they happened.

*the way Jonny HAS to hug me after he comes downstairs from a nap...regardless of how charged up he is to play with his brother--insists on a quick hug and snuggle.

There are so many more...always are. But for now I'm tired and approaching the non-sensical form of writing.
Just want to say...for myself and no one else...that even though I spend loads of time and energy wishing for my husband to be around more...and plotting ways to sabotage his sushi and champagne dinners with clients while I fish poop out of the bathtub...I want it to be said that I'm happy. Content. Grateful...maybe even a bit victorious.
Because I'm just so damn GLAD that I'm right here, not missing any of it. Not for a second.

There's going to be time for a lot of shit in the future...but not a chance for any of this.
Color me grateful...and blessed.

Just when you think bedtime's safe again...

2009-10-01T18:23:00.001-07:00

...it's not.
Not at all, in fact.

We have, in the Richards house, a fairly firm and steadfast bedtime routine...bath, quick show on Sprout (boys love The Goodnight Show--and Brian doesn't hate the female host), glass of milk, story, quick song, prayers...and lights out. Whole routine takes about 30 minutes.
And it has, for the most part, been fool-proof.
Meaning...the boys go to sleep.

But somewhere around the time that Jonny learned to crawl out of his crib (days after he was born?)...the interpretation of bedtime has been a bit loose on his part. Up for debate.
Days when he's worn out and hasn't had a nap...goodnight.
But days when he's had the least bit of a nap...well...the whole "goodnight routine" is a mere opening act for his show.
I cuddle and sing to him, kiss him good night...revel in the sweetness of our goodnight moments and his soft skin, tuck him in with his favorite blankies, exchange I love yous, you get it...but for him, it's just the drop-off before a total party.

Antics have ranged from emptying out the contents of his drawers, baskets of lotions, etc....to sitting in our bedroom closet "reading books"...to full-on hanging out on our living room sofas, unbeknownst to us, only to eventually pop his head up and announce his presence to us--in the adjacent room, watching TV.

So when I got home from Meijer tonight, put the groceries away, got the down-low from Brian about how the boys went down, what cuteness occurred...and how long Jonny's usual game of whack-a-mole went on...you know the one, the state fair favorite, where the little mole heads pop up annoyingly (but happily) and no matter how many times you send them back into their holes with a mallet--they just pop the F right back up again.
That's Jonny...minus the mallet.
Anyway...so when I'm on my second bite of Meijer sushi, we hear a *clunk* from up in the bathroom. Non-plussed, we both shrug our shoulders and Brian heads up to put J back in bed.

Except...this time he's taken it to a whole new level.
This time he's gotten into my makeup...and is wearing it. Like...really wearing it. Smears of brown goo* are covering his face, neck, back of neck and of course, his hands. Brian appears in the doorway to the kitchen with him, and immediately--I'm a deer in headlights. I am just utterly stunned. On the one hand, TOTALLY freaked out at the appearance of this child...and on the other hand, wanting not to give away with my expression just how hilarious I think the situation is.
Oh, and I'm also reaching for the camera.

The pictures tell it all...you see the disaster all over his face...but you also see separate expressions: one of fear for the punishment to come, one of relief that his daddy and I are clearly not totally pissed--stifling giggles, if I'm being honest...and also, one of true Jonathan pride in the most recent of his stunts.

Only real thing I'm worried about at this point, as he's been cleaned up, changed into new pjs and plunked back in bed, is the sheer cost of replacing the makeup and brushes (those puppies aren't cheap) he ruined.

But for now, back to my sushi.
Oh yes, and that glass of wine.

And so it goes in this house of ours...*sigh*.

*origin of said "goo" on his face has yet to be determined by me...I don't own anything resembling foundation, only brown eyeliner, some concealer (that wasn't touched), loose mineral powder, and some random eye shadows...oh, and a lipstick that--yes--was completely and totally smooshed. But it was more of a pinkish auburn color...so basically, I'm stumped.
But, alas, I'm used to it by now.:)

"You Can Help Yourself..."

2009-10-01T11:46:00.000-07:00

Can't say this isn't the motto in our house...but wow, pretty funny when it comes from your 4 yr old.

Benjamin and Wyatt are currently playing restaurant--well, Benjamin's working at a McDonald's (with the McD cash register in his lap) and Wyatt's working at the local grocery store (Jonathan's new grocery register in his lap).
Both boys are sitting next to eachother on the couch, which makes me wonder who's going to actually get the food prepared...or bought. But I play along anyway...

Walking up, on my knees, to Benjamin I say: "I'd like 3 cheeseburgers, two chicken nuggets, 4 fries and 3 drinks." I'm pretty hungry, after all.
Plugging the info into his register, he repeats my order like a pro...wonder if he's heard this done before somewhere.

"Anything else!?" he asks.
"Nope, that'll be it, sir!" I say.
Transaction of money and niceties follows...including a friendly "Have a nice day" from Benjamin.

I sit, expectantly, waiting.

"Mommy, that's it...next person is waiting!"

"But what about my food, Bud? Where's my food??" I say.

Wyatt looks at Benjamin, then me, then back at Benjamin...

Benjamin shoots his arm up, waves his hand in a circular motion, gesturing toward the play kitchen area.
"You can just help yourself...kitchen's open!"

Can't say I don't love the hospitality of said kitchen...but I think we need to sharpen our "playing restaurant" skills.
Clare and Addie would be good right about now...they are PROS.

Proof their ears DO work

2009-09-23T09:29:00.001-07:00

Moments ago I overheard the following:

"C'mon, Jonny...you don't need to freak out about it--just listen!"

And in recent days, these lovely gems:

"Benjamin, I'm NOT going to want to be your friend if you act like that!"

"Mommy, I'm just really feeling frustrated with this." (Jonny, cleaning up a mess)

"Jonathan, you are SERIOUSLY out of control."

And then there are the times they use my words, yet not quite in context:

"This is so yummy it just kills me..." (Benjamin, giggly with his Krispy Treat)

"I very want to go, Mommy, I can't even tell you." (Jonathan, begging to go to pool)

"You don't know if you like it, Jonny, because it might have wheat in it." (Benjamin, attempting to keep Jonathan away from his finger paints)

And finally, my personal favorite--the blending of two separate Mommy-isms:

"I'm so totally serious about how fun it's going to be, Mommy...you'll just have to be kidding me." (Benjamin, on our way to Koetsier's for J's bday party)

Happy Birthday, Jonathan Christopher

2009-09-15T12:54:00.001-07:00

Oh, my sweet, sweet boy...I cannot believe you are 3. And yet, in many ways...holy cow, I can't believe it's only been three years since you came into our lives.
Each day with you--as has been well-documented--is an adventure. From the very start, jusy by being you...you changed things. Made us more of a complete family...gave Benjamin a brother and me--your mommy--a whole new experience with raising a boy. I cannot begin to describe the ways in which I'm grateful for what you've brought to our lives...and to me.
But most of all, I'm grateful just to know you. To be able to witness all the changing you do on a daily--and often moment to moment--basis.
You are, without a doubt, fearless. Determined, full of energy, a bit accident-prone (cough, cough), fast, unbelievably curious, and truly unpredictable...you are a force to be reckoned with, dear Jonny. And yet it's what I love about you. I love how much you keep me on my toes...I love how even when I roll my eyes at the latest "stunt" you've pulled, catastrophe you've caused, or sheer fool you've made of me(as I've run down the street screaming after you)...I love that in those same moments I'm smiling on the inside, proud of the spitfire you are. Proud of your spunk, your will, and your true tenaciousness.

But most of all, I am in awe of your spirit.
Each day I spend with you I marvel at your positivity...how "up" you are for anything that comes your way, and how quick you are to recover from set-backs. I am endlessly proud of the compassion you've learned, the sensitivity you feel and, of course, your undeniable sense of humor.
I love that even when your brother is teasing you mercilessly, taking your toys, or simply bossing you around...that you refuse to stay beaten down and insist on hugging it out with him and kissing his cheek. Even when he's still miles away from forgiving himself.

Your sense of strength is, and was from day one, obvious to me...and I am beyond grateful for that. But what I am most grateful for is the love you have for yourself and others...and how freely you let it shine.

You have magic eyes, and I've told you this many times. From the first time I laid my own eyes on them...they danced. And they continue to give away exactly who you are...to anyone who takes even a moment to notice. Your heart is always on the surface, and I imagine it always will be...right there--open and giving and honest.

You are a treasure, Jonny...and I love you with all my heart.

To the moon and back, Bubbas.:)
Always.

God: the unseen parent.

2009-06-30T10:13:00.000-07:00

Yet again we are hearing about God in our house. A good thing, yes? Reassuring, precious, and sometimes even a bit hilarious.
Today was no exception.

I'm quietly eating my lunch at the kitchen island while the boys *silently* (I swear I didn't drug them) colored at the train table. Benjamin walked over to me to show me the "sentence" he'd written...made no sense...and after a few of my supportive comments, went back to the train table to draw some more. I noticed him staring at his page for just a few moments, then witnessed him slowly underlining, ever so carefully, the entire sentence again. Very...slowly. And, as he was doing this, began to talk to Jonathan.

"Do you know what this really says, Jonny?"

No response from Jonathan, who was way too absorbed with his Curious George coloring book to manage a conversation with Mr. Chatterbox.
Can't blame the kid.

"What this sentence says, Jonny...well, I'll tell you. It says God loves us and everyone. Yeeeaahhh, that's what it says."

Still nothing from Jonathan.

"It also says that Jesus loves us and will be nice to everyone...he'll be our best friend..."

Jonathan suddenly decides that Curious George needs a purple hat and searches for the appropriate marker.

"And Jonny...Jonny!"

Jonathan looks up at him now, marker in hand.

"If you don't act nice to Jesus, God's going to spank you."

Jonathan: "No, Benny! I don't want a spanking!"

"Well," says Benjamin, cocking his head to one side for emphasis, "God will spank you if he needs to, you know. Because sometimes he just has to do that. Sometimes he spanks Jesus, too...ok?"

My eyes.
My eyes were huge.
Where did this come from?? The spanking talk? The naughty version of Jesus--the one who gets spanked? And a God who delivers the spanking?

For now I'm staying out of it.
I'm clearly a bit uncomfortable with the notion floating around in my child's head that God can deliver physical punishment...that he's not afraid to discipline like that.

But in another way, I gotta admit it, I think it's pretty clever.
Funny, even.
And oddly reassuring to know God's on my side with this one.

A Well-kept Secret

2009-06-22T09:57:00.000-07:00

Several things come to mind:
The public park and beach off the Beltline, behind Blue Water Grill...the enormous paintings displayed on the underside of the State St bridge in Chicago...Golden Gardens in Seattle...the fun of teaching your 4yr old how to write, address, and mail a letter--and walking half a mile just to use the big, blue mailbox...Target brand coffee (recently discovered, comparable to Bucks)...about 90% of the "hidden Mickeys" at Walt Disney World...the wine enthusiast/expert who works at the Cascade Meijer...oh, and the entire city of Portland, Maine.

And also?
Youth Ministry. Being a youth leader...or, more specifically, being one at Westminster Presbyterian Church.

Now, before I go on, I must acknowledge the fact that, for me, even writing the word ministry in my own blog is a bit out of the ordinary for me. Anyone who knows me well at all knows that, while I go to church regularly and am dedicated to our group of high schoolers, I'm not exactly someone you'd call "religious". Spiritual? Yes.
But there's a difference.

And as tempting as it is for me to expound upon my feelings regarding said difference...for now, I shall refrain. But there's a good chance it'll pop up at some point in the future, I just have a hunch.

So where was I...yes, Youth Ministry. Ministering to youth...and all the churchy-ness it involves. This is where I'll mention, as yet another side note, how unique our church is...not once has it ever felt "churchy". And not that this would be bad, per se, but for me--and the many kids I've worked with, as well as the community of friends we have there--it's key. I'll also add (and this will be my last disclaimer...it's my blog, after all) that my feelings about my own church do not reflect any kind of arrogant certitude about the rights and wrongs of particular denominations, styles of worship, etc. It's hard enough to even mention church in today's society without invoking the kinds of images that are so far removed from the average individual experience. All I know is that I'm happy at my church. Happy to be able to think the way I do about the world and religion in general and still be welcome.
And involved.

I suppose this is where the irony--or secret priveledge--of it all comes into play. Most of the time, volunteer work (or service work of any kind) is something we do to help the situations of others. We pick and choose what ways to get involved based upon our own interests or skills, yes, but in the end--it's about making a difference.
Right?
That whole thing about "our greatest passion intersecting with the needs of the world"...this is what it's all about, no?

While I do agree with this sentiment--that being emotionally committed to a cause is important, that it enhances your ability to carry out the job...I feel like there are times when a few other things are true as well:
1. Putting yourself in situations that don't necessarily align with your own sensibilities or ways of seeing the world aren't always bad. They can challenge you, and you're often better for them in the end. The door shouldn't close at opportunities that just feel right from the start.
2. But also...also...and this just needs to be said, I'm afraid. Volunteer work is selfish. It's self-serving in the way it builds us up and makes us proud. Pure self-indulgence, to be sure. People who do the Peace Core, my brother who went to Africa, friends I know who tutor inner-city kids...all of them are feeding a need deep inside to feel better about themselves.
But that doesn't make them wrong. Nor does it negate the good that it does.
Not for a second.

I just think it's important to recognize who's really making the difference. And most often it's not the one doing the actual "work", but rather the one being helped.

Yesterday, minutes after pulling in the driveway from our long trek home, I was pulling weeds out front while the boys played. My neighbor was out front and began chatting with me...inquiring about where we'd been, for how long, how many hours in the car, etc. We chatted about the different ways of entertaining kids in the car, the inevitable meltdowns, junk food, you name it. And then he asked "what was in North Carolina" and I told him it was a church youth group trip.

He just gave me this "wow, better you than me" expression and said "You guys must be ready for a real vacation now, huh?!"
It was a fair thing to say.
We were/are tired. Our kids were put through a lot of change...day camps in a new place, with new faces...late bedtimes, early mornings...hot weather, unfamiliar beds, constant shuttling from one activity to the next (that usually meant being away from us)...and perhaps most devastating of all--not having the food they were used to having. And Brian and I went through a lot, as well. Physically, emotionally, you name it. But if I'm being honest--and I say this without an ounce of pretention, truly--it wasn't work. Not service work, not volunteer work--though, yes, we elected to go without force or pay...but no, it wasn't that kind of a week.

What it was...what it ended up being, was one of the greatest gifts we could've imagined. A gift to our kids (who, despite being tired and grumpy without their "Tommy yogurts", had the time of their lives), a gift to our own sanity (the setting alone did wonders), a gift to our marriage, and above all else--a boon to our faith. Yes, our faith.
Brian, who grew up in parochial school and studied the Bible alongside history, math, science and all other courses...is only now claiming to feel a sense of personal involvement and accountability.
And for me...well, I guess you could just say I've softened, become less militant about my "non-religious" religious side.:)

And you know what?
All of this happened in the presence of teenagers. Messy, loud, idealistic, self-absorbed (though rightfully so--it's biological, for crying out loud), awkward, insecure, emotional high schoolers. Time after time, I feel like I need to explain why Brian and I work with these kids. I'm sure anyone who teaches middle or high school, or works in any way with kids this age feels the same kind of thing. It's as though you must have some type of pre-existing condition that requires you to spend time with teenagers. Nevermind the possibility that you'd do it on purpose.
That you might want to be around them.

It surprises me, really. As a culture we are forever obsessed with the lives of teenagers--what they're doing right and what they're doing wrong (though I'd argue too much attention is placed on what they're doing wrong), what music they're listening to, what clothes they're wearing, etc. We even flock to movies that glorify, without the slightest hint of accuracy I'll add, the drama of their daily lives and attempt to make us all long for the days when we felt as invincible and carefree.
And sarcastically, we adults roll our eyes at teen culture...at the "drama" of it all. I'm implicating myself here, too. As recently as last week I gave a serious eye roll in the direction of one particular youth group kid, and definitely had my moments where I wanted to scream "C'mon!!! It's not ALL about you!"...but the irony of it all has never been lost on me. What I'm referring to is the high school model. The template. It's all around us, and always will be...in everything we do as adults: work, relationships, all of it. We may be a bit more self-assured---but not always. And as ridiculous as ever--some of us still compete as though we're still walking the halls to gym class.
It doesn't make us wrong...no, I don't think it does. But it would just be a whole lot easier if we could cop to it now and then. And at the very least, try not to villainize the teen population so much.

Because what people often don't realize is what stands to be gained by being around these kids. It really is one of the best-kept secrets around--and one of the surest ways to humble yourself. And you have to be careful, because it's not always easy. Striking that proper balance between friend and mentor can be tricky...and while it might take some getting used to, it's essential. Too much of a friend, and you lose credibility...not to mention the fact that you likely have issues of your own to work out. And too much of a mentor, and you risk not being relevant. Not being able to connect. It can be tough. Partly because it's such a fine line...but mostly because there's no greater fraud-detector than a teenager.

Needless to say, I'm a fan. I love these kids...and most importantly, I love watching them grow. I am 100% addicted to their energy, optimism, uncommon insight, wisdom, openness, sheer naivete and vulnerability. All of it. Their flaws and imperfections are humbling, while their maturity can be downright staggering. And I've found that what they seem to need from me...what they need the most...is not only the easiest thing for me to give, but is somehow linked to what I need as well. It's not a secret, really...it's actually pretty simple stuff. Being a good listener--and I mean really a good listener, the selfless kind. Being honest--and I mean really being honest, without agenda, but also with compassion.
And knowing how to love properly. Sounds ridiculous, but it's true. Because you can't love each kid the same...nor can you anyone in your life. Knowing what that person needs in order to feel loved is what it's all about.
Yet as much as I feel as though I've learned these important truths...I am, without a doubt, still learning.

I guess that's why I keep going back, why I keep throwing myself into the weeds. Because as much as I'd like to be able to say I'm "serving a cause" and making a difference with teenagers...what I know, what I am beyond convinced of, is that they are the ones making a difference with me.

Tummy Talk

2009-06-11T10:49:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not pregnant.

But lately there's a focus on tummies in our house. Mostly from Benjamin, though Jonathan's taken to pulling his shirt up and smacking his repeatedly--for comic relief, of course, when he's either in trouble or wanting to distract me.

However, most of the "talk" is coming from Benjamin. How our tummies are feeling, what's in them, how babies get out, what babies eat when they're in the mommy's belly, the relative *mood* of babies while they're in tummies, and so on...
And I repeat: I'm not pregnant.
Nor have I been talking about the possibility of my being pregnant with Benjamin. Nonetheless, several conversations lately have begun the following way:

"Mommy? Do you have a baby in your tummy?"

"Mommy? If you have a girl baby, we'll have to name her Lampstead."

That's right, Lampstead. Not sure if this is a variation on lampshade...or homestead...or perhaps a combination of both--obviously making perfect sense. In any case, it's total nonsense...but, unfortunately, not the kind of nonesense that is ironic in an adorable or innocent way. But rather the kind that makes you reallly wonder WTH is going on in your kids' head.

Anyway. Other memorable conversation starters are as follows:

"Hey Mommay...is your tummy happy in those shorts?"

"Mommy? My tummy really loves this yogurt. It's sooo happy for it."

(as I tell Jonathan that if he doesn't eat his dinner, he's going to bed without a bedtime snack) "Mommy! Jonny's tummy isn't going to be very happy, is it?!"

(or my personal fave, yet no idea why) "Mommy?! After I eat this popsicle, the juice is going to go from my tummy down into my leg...is that right?"
Realizing how not far off he is with his understanding of the digestive tract, etc...I often consider explaining where pee-pee (and the like) comes from...but, in the interest of not confusing things any further, I leave it alone.
Letting him think the juice goes into his leg, that's right.

But then...then...there are the sweet moments. Like when he's going to bed, and he tells me that he's happy inside his tummy. Or when he's feeling brave, he'll tell me that he's "not so sad or scared" in his tummy.
Apparently, Benjamin's tummy is the place to be.
It's the place where all of his emotions are developed, contemplated and resolved. If he's going to come to a conclusion on how he feels about something, his tummy's gonna be involved. I'm starting to get it.

And then today there was the final straw, after we left the pediatrician's office. A moment I wanted to pull the car over and either reach back and hug him, call someone and tell them what he had just said, or even just cry at how precious it was. So I decided today would be the day I'd bring my blog back from the dead.:)

I took the boys into the pediatrician's office with me so I could drop off their health forms (for the day camp at Montreat--our upcoming youth group trip). Benjamin had to use the potty before we left, so we walked around the corner from the front receptionist desk to use the bathroom. As we passed a closed door of one of the doctor's rooms, we heard the worst, most painful and pathetic cries of a little boy...who'd obviously just had shots, or at least wasn't loving his doctor visit. Both of my boys stopped dead in their tracks, deer in headlights, their eyes searching for where the awful sound was coming from--Jonathan more curious than scared, Benjamin the opposite. They both asked, over and over, as we used the potty and made our way out to the car, "Why is that boy crying? Why is he so sad?"...to which I gave several responses, ranging from "Well, sometimes little boys don't feel very well when they come see the doctor and it makes them sad" to "Well, maybe that little boy is getting a shot--you know, you had those when you were a baby and you didn't like them either...but now you're a big boy and you're brave!"
But what I knew was that, for Benjamin, there was less concern over when he might have to endure another shot...or be sick...but rather a sense of empathy for the little boy, and a need to make sense of the whole situation.

Driving out of doctor's office parking lot...on our way to Target.

"Mommy, I think I know why that boy was so sad..." he says.

"Why do you think, Bud?" I say.

"Well, he was sad because he doesn't have God in his tummy."

??????? (me blinking and looking back at him, speechless)

"What, honey?" I ask.

"He doesn't have God in his tummy, Mommy...he doesn't have him in there keeping him safe."

And that is exactly how it happened.
I can't tell you what I said, or in what direction the conversation went from there, because I don't really remember. I'm pretty sure we talked about how no matter how sad we are, or how sick, God is always with us...that kind of stuff...but I can't be sure how much of it got through to him. All I know is that I spent the next few miles committing the whole exchange to memory, so as to write it down (or blog, if you will) later. Definitely one of those moments you want to always remember.

Such empathy in such a small person.
Amazes me all the time...and once in a while, I really am in awe. Not in a proud parent kind of way...no, not like that.
But in gratitude for having his little spirit in my own life, and having the chance to watch it grow.

The perfect Mother's Day card...and how it's like the Holy Grail.

2009-05-07T11:22:00.000-07:00

I've often thought that the perfect career for me would be to write for Hallmark...American Greetings, something of the sort. Because, for me, there's nothing like the feeling of writing something well, or knowing that I've expressed my thoughts exactly as I feel them.
I've also considered this career for another reason: no one who actually has this as a job seems to be getting it done. Not well, anwyay. Unless you're lucky enough to have time to shop in boutique-like card shops, you're not likely to find anything original or even pallatable out there. And yes, I'm picky. I'm really picky. But it just continues to boggle my mind each time I go to buy someone a card. I either suck it up and get something that's just close enough to what I want...or I bag the whole thing and go home and write a note myself.

Motherhood. It's likely the worst topic--or should I say, topic least likely to be effectively characterized--out there facing the card industry. I suppose if I did work for one of the aforementioned greeting card companies, I'd probably call in sick that week. Or month. I'd find a way out of the assignment.
Because it's impossible to write for someone else.

I mean, am I just too picky? Has anyone out there found the perfect line of cards for this occasion (or any other for that matter, but that's for another time)? Or worse--am I the only one who recoils at the sight of a golden, embossed foil rose on a giant card...likely accompanied by the word "mom"--printed in some over the top, loopy script...is it just me, or is a card like this actually more of an insult than it is anything else?

Recently I found myself in CVS with Benjamin, waiting for a prescription, and I realized it was the perfect chance to buy Mother's Day cards. Most times I'm out shopping we have Jonathan in tow--so I had to seize the moment. Benjamin was happy to peruse the section of musical cards--you know, the ones that play actual bits of well-known songs--which afforded me ample time to find the cards I needed.
I wound up in the same predicament as usual. I'd find the perfect card, but it would be "from son to his mom"...or for my mother in law, I'd find just the right message on a card, but dammit, if they didn't F it up by writing "you've raised me to be blah, blah, blah" at the end of the card.
Nothing ruins a message more than claiming to have been someone's child from birth.

So I made do...found a few that will work. Found, in case you're wondering, the same kind I always do for my mother in law...the one with a message I'm willing to stand behind, but I'll have to go and write a little extra at the end to really get my point across. That, and because I can't help it, I'll have to go through and write "in law" and a little smiley face next to each "mom" in the card.
And not that I mind, because both of my own moms are worth the extra effort.
But I'll tell you what...the drumroll will keep on drummin until this Sunday, when I get a card from Brian. Ok, ok...don't call me ungrateful, please. Because I can safely say that Brian knows just how much I appreciate him and the many lenghts he'll go to for me and my happiness. But...and I'm seriously giggling right now...for some reason he manages to TOTALLY biff on the Mother's Day card thing.
Every.
Year.

I'll get whatever was left at D and W on Sunday morning...with an overpriced, slightly brown and somewhat wilted rose.
Grocery store flower.
I know it well.
Sometimes, if I'm lucky, I'll get a whole dozen GSFs...for my birthday, after a rather large F up...any kind of truly special occasion that calls for such extravagance.
Oh, and P.S.? The cards at D and W are waaay overpriced ever since they switched to the Papus/Papyrus (I always get it confused...but it's funny that in once case it's a Native American pouch for babies, and in the other it's the name for paper from ancient civilizations). But anyway.

What really matters, like on all the other Hallmark holidays, is knowing you matter. That you're appreciated, loved...seen. That you're not overlooked. And so whatever card Brian manages to snag from "The Dubber" (our affectionate term for the over-priced local grocery store--actually, we call it our party store--but again, anyway...) will no doubt make me happy. As will the one my mom brings over...because let's face it, getting cards--no matter how cheesey--is fun. Just having that person recognize you means something.

As far as my boys are concerned, they needn't ever worry about finding the perfect card. Just being who they are is enough...or maybe, at the very least, they could just get teachers like Miss Sue and Miss Sarah to always have in their back pocket. Today's "Mother's Day party" at Mayflower was beyond adorable, and I was--true to form--in tears at the end. All the kids in a circle, mommies sitting behind their child, and the class singing a song called "When Mommy comes in the room"...and when they get to the part where they sing "I tell her how much I love her", Benjamin turns around and hugs me tight and says, in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, "I love you, Mommy"...it does NOT get any better than that.
Except, um, the poem with his handprint that talks about how fast he's growing up, and that one day his handprint "won't be quite so small...but rather hard to recall"...yowzers. Waterworks.

Funny how that's all I needed for Mother's Day.

And if the Holy Grail really does exist (from what Dan Brown has me thinking, it's buried somewhere under The Louvre in Paris)...it's always going to be a bit tricky to get your hands on.

Most Myself

2009-03-30T11:18:00.000-07:00

One of the questions that was passed around the circle last night at youth group was "When do you feel least yourself?". It was interesting, of course, to hear the kids' responses. Some of them felt the furthest from their true selves when around adults or teachers, others felt completely at home in the same situations. The answers ranged from very specific to very vague...surfacey to deep...but as with all discussions, it was the diversions along the way that gave the topic real value.

I swear. There is something truly hilarious about watching teenagers navigate a topic...their body language, etc...how much it reminds me of what it was like to be in that same situation. But the really great part about it, the part that keeps me doing this every week, is the way these kids keep me on my toes. And not in the way that my boys do--because this has nothing to do with physical endurance or multi-tasking. It's about maintaining a sense of complete and total vulnerabilitiy...staying honest, having integrity in what I say or how I express myself. For lack of a better word, just being real.

It's interesting.
Why is it I never wanted to teach younger children...you know, the ones who love and adore you the first day they lay eyes on you? Why is it I felt (and still do) a natural and almost primal draw toward the ones who practically hold your feet to the fire from day one? If you've ever taught middle schoolers, you know "the look".
It's the one that makes you feel, in one instant, completely vulnerable, stripped bare...and seriously uncool. You know, with every word that comes out of your mouth, whether they're buying your story or not.
It's the same way with teenagers, and I think it's what's kept me in the game for so long...this youth group thing. Watching these kids grow and change, get to know themselves, strengthen their relationships, etc...it's all fulfilling, and accounts for about 85% of why I do it.

But I'll be honest, there's that 15% that is really pretty selfish on my part. Because I continue to get something out of it. And last night was no exception, as we went around the room talking about the ways we stay connected and honest with ourselves. Listening to myself talking with these kids last night, I realized I was being up front and honest in a way that is sometimes even challenging with friends my age. I mean, talk about a context in which I stand a chance of being misunderstood...or worse, not understood at all. But for some reason, I make sense to them. And vice versa.

I'm rambling.
What I'm thinking about today, though, is the times at which I'm most myself. You know, whether I answered the question well enough last night. Ever the over-analyzer and reflective thinker...I spent much of my walk outside with the boys this morning thinking about it. Well, in between the "Yay, you're doing so awesome on your bike!" and "Out of the street! Now, Jonathan, out of the STREET!" comments.
And the way I figure it, I don't think I'm ever very far away from my truest self. There are just times where I'm more proud of who that is, I guess.

1. being with my boys, easy.
2. being with Brian, definitely easy.
3. with friends, almost always, pretty simple.
4. exercising, in classes or not, easy.
5. yoga, perhaps the simplest of all.
6. in front of a crowd, freaked out sometimes, but oddly enough very comfortable.
7. the list could go on...but is already a bit boring, I'm afraid.

It's just that there are things that are changing in my life that I'm finding more difficult to navigate. And it's weird. Because it's not about whether or not I feel comfortable in any given situation, it's more the matter of how to maintain that sense of integrity. How to stay myself.
With kids, middle schoolers or high schoolers, there is ironically much to be gained by being vulnerable...by letting them see that 6th grade picture of you...but admitting your weaknesses. The more you let them have of you, the more they trust and honor who you are.

Why is it so hard for adults?
And I'm not suggesting that it's easy for me. If anything, I'm just confused as to why it gets so much harder the older we get. Or maybe it's because kids are in the picture. It's simple enough for me to know how I feel and share it with others...but the minute I have to weigh those opinions against how they may or may not affect my kids, it gets murky. For instance, I can roll my eyes at the ridiculousness of the soccer-mom-phenomenon...but oh my gosh, holy crap, I'm suddenly one of them. Don't think for a second I won't have my video camera and cheesey grin ready for Jonathan's gymnastics show (p.s. have I mentioned this?--total PLG-fest...cannot wait).
But sometimes it's not quite as simple. There are times, I'm finding, when I'm not sure if my intentions are right on target. When I sign up for one more class for my kids..when I sacrifice time alone with Brian for time with 20 plus people at a bar...or when I check my reflection in the mirror before picking Benjamin up from preschool. Sometimes I just feel totally lost.
And it might seem ridiculous to some, or may even make zero sense.

But what I'm realizing is that parenthood is not the only "minefield" of life. Being yourself is most of all. I want every day to be able to "step to the front of the mat" (yup, yoga) and know that it will all make sense. That I'll be able to say yes to things that are good and healthy for me and my family, or no to things that are frivolous and of no value. But for crying out loud, sometimes these things are hard to decipher. The classes to sign up for, preschool teachers, which toys are going to better meet their needs (scooter or big wheel?) for the summer, or even which shows I'm going to allow them to watch...seemingly mindless decisions, but they matter. And then there are the bigger ones...which things to keep in the budget and which ones to cut, which vacations are justifiable, or even friendships. When am I closest to myself and the things that matter to me in each instance?

I recently took a trip by myself, for four days, to Portland, Maine to visit my oldest friend. It was a trip that I planned late last year, when she had her first baby, and the notion made perfect sense. And then, as the trip drew near, I started to feel less sure. My boys were, of course, suddenly behaving really well and bonding with me in new and deeper ways than before...things with Brian were great, but he'd been traveling so much and I was missing our "rhythm"...and I guess, overall, I just wasn't convinced that I had any right to be going. Mom guilt, whatever it was, I was panicked. And I ended up developing a serious case of anxiety over even FLYING out there. For the entire week leading up to the trip, my emotinal state was shaky, at best. And looking back, I'm not only embarrassed at myself for freaking out so badly...but disappointed in my ability to know what's best for me.
Because the minute I landed in Portland, it was obvious to me that it was the best decision I'd made in a long time. And off and on during my time there, which was full of wonderful, indescribable feelings of contentment...I felt this well of emotion stirring inside of me. It was a good thing, kind of like therapy...and on my last afternoon there, when I stepped out onto the rocky beach and took in the view of the Atlantic, I burst into tears.
Gratefully, I was in the company of someone who not only lets me be who I am without any explanation...but also someone who happens to feel the perplexities of life in the same way I do. I felt, and still do, that we'd grown closer in those four days than I ever imagined possible. All she did at that moment was link her arm in mine and just say "yeah, the ocean can do that"...and it was enough said.

So.
My point? I'm not sure where I started with this. Lord knows things don't always come out the way you intend when you're getting up five thousand times to deal with dirty bottoms, stubborn Lego container lids, and crayons about to be used on the wall.
I guess I'm several things right now: grateful for perspective, sometimes unsure of direction, but always certain of self.
And I suppose that's enough for now.

Now...is there someone I pay for this session?

Better late than never...

2009-03-11T09:30:00.001-07:00

Finally got this little gem onto youtube this week and sent it out to Benjamin's "Muma". Can't seem to stop watching it and giggling. Had to share.

Happy Birthday, Benjamin Davis!

2009-02-28T06:35:00.000-08:00

In so many ways I cannot believe it's been 4 years, buddy. But when I look back at how much you've changed, all of the stages you've gone through...and oh my goodness--the sweet little boy you've become, I can feel that much time has passed.

They say that our personalities are, in large part, written from the beginning...and with you, I've always known this to be true. I won't lie, buddy, you came out in a bit of a state...not so sure you were ready to be here, a tad cranky from time to time (hrrmph), and easily rattled. But from the minute you came into the world, you're daddy and I have been transformed...for the better. Because that strong sense of uncertainty and nervousness that you had at birth gave way to a remarkably sensitive, cautious, discerning, and beautiful spirit.

You are, no doubt, a true blend of your mom and dad. When people look at you, they immediately see your father. And in so many of your mannerisms, this comes through even more. Last night at Red Robin you were unusually quiet and unanimated...you weren't even eating much of your food. And once I thought about it, I knew--you were waiting to get the singing and clapping waitress routine out of the way. Last year it frightened you and made you cry...this year you wanted to get through it..so you were bracing yourself. You made it through with a half smile and a few mildly enthusiastic claps of your own...and once they planted down that sundae, you pushed it aside and finally dove into your mac and cheese. A broad smile across your face, your whole demeanor changed. While part of me wanted to cancel the whole birthday singing fiasco altogether, my wiser self told me to let it just happen...and it proved to be yet another milestone. Not a major one--and to some mommies and daddys--not one of any significance at all. But you are your father's son, and the deep sensitivity and cautiousness with situations like these is never lost on me. And I'm so grateful to see that beautiful part of your daddy living in you.

From day one, I've seen myself in you...and while I may have been--and still am--the only one, it's been unmistakable. For one, you bear a strong resemblence to your Grand Colonel (your mommy's grandpa)...which is fitting, as your middle name is a tribute to him. But when you laugh hysterically, spontaneously express affection, or even show concern for the most minor of things--ranch dressing on your sleeve, toothpaste on the side of your cheek, or the general routine of things...I know you are my boy. And I love how this sensitivity also shows up in your concern for others. You told me the other day, in fact, that "all the boys" from your preschool class should come to your party, because you didn't want any of them to feel left out. Last night at Red Robin, after you settled into your true self, you casually asked your Papa how old he was going to be (you share birthdays) as you dug into your sundae with your spoon. When Papa said "65", you did that low, hearty half-laugh, half-giggle of disbelief and said (out of the corner of your mouth while taking a bite), "Huh...wow, Papa...that must mean you're getting a LOT of presents!!!"

I so love you, Bubby. For your gentleness, the sensitvity of your little soul, the hugeness of your heart, and the purity of your spirit. You are a treasure.
Happy Birthday, Sweet Boy...I love you with all my heart--and "to the moon and back"!

A Reason to Blog Again

2009-02-24T10:42:00.000-08:00

Great pictures.

Then a great entry...but first things first. Don't wanna go gettin ahead of myself or anything.

Here are some of our latest and greatest moments: Chicago with the fam (including my brother's fam!), Mark and Dina's visit (which included some karaoke with the Cavanaughs), and a quick hello in Chicago with Denise and Paul.

Being a Richards

2009-01-22T18:37:00.000-08:00

There are so many reasons why I feel lucky to be one, the greatest of which being my friendship with my sister-in-law, which just seems to get better every time I'm with her...the affection I am able to muster for my father-in-law when he's driving too fast and almost kills us all...and the basic fact that no matter what, we always seem to have a good time.

But after this last weekend, I'm reminded of one of the greatest aspects of life in the Richards clan...laughter. I am, without fail, someone who loves to laugh. I'm almost always laughing...and most people know I'm near when they hear my horribly high-pitched, piercing, yet hearty bellow. This is likely because I grew up around funny people.
And so, as luck would have it, I've found more reasons to laugh by being a Richards. Yes, sometimes the reasons aren't supposed to be funny...and the sheer humor I find in them are just an example of the ways in which we cope with things we don't always understand (uukayy?!?--that was for you, Denise:) ).
But most of the time, I'm laughing because I'm having a damn good time. Each of my in-laws makes me laugh in ways that are new...which...is AWESOME.

I won't go into how funny Kathy can be...and almost always when she doesn't realize it.
Dave, Kath, Denise...and now Paul...they all have their own magical way of making me spit beer out of my nose.
Or wine.
Or sangria.

And so, to honor the most recent addition to the Richards clan...I would like to share with you (drumroll)...my brother-in-law, Paul. Since he joined the family, I know I've been laughing harder...and more often.

A Father

2009-01-19T07:41:00.001-08:00

Among the many reasons I love, believe in and support Barack Obama...one of the greatest is his views on parenthood. The way he looks at his children, the hopes he has for them. The fact that he's just another parent like so many of us.

So, here's an article that embodies that...and is worth reading: http://www.parade.com/export/sites/default/news/2009/01/barack-obama-letter-to-my-daughters.html

"I'm still alive"

2009-01-14T18:11:00.000-08:00

Yes, sung in your best Eddie Veder voice.

For many reasons, this particular statement applies.
The following have played a role in holding me hostage from my blog. I'm not saying they make sense, are justifiable, or even dignified...I'm just trying to maintain full disclosure.
(as though that's ever been a problem for me)

1. Holiday chaos fallout
2. Husband's travel...and my subsequent emotional fallout
3. Facebook (yup--totally undignified)
4. Slack-ass-ness
5. Book I got for Christmas--Audacity of Hope--wanting to finish before next Tuesday...I'm a slow reader
6. Video I'm putting together for youth group Pasta Dinner
7. General Blog apathy
8. More slack-assedness (had to have an even number in my list...totally O.C.D.)
Wait...
9. Benjamin not napping as much--too tired at night to Blog
10. Meijer...? Ok, this so isn't a good reason, but I needed to end my list with an even "10" things, and we all know Meijer works when nothing else does. At least it does in our family.

Peace out.

Lest I Forget...

2008-12-29T13:11:00.000-08:00

...I need to write down a few quotes from today.
And yes, I'm hopelessly behind on my Blog...lost in the holiday fog, really.
But the following things were said by my boys today, and I have to record them.

They are both such different creatures and never cease to amaze me.
And make me laugh.

This morning while working on his USA puzzle, Benjamin says "What's North Dakota?"
I say, "Well, it's a state...and..." (struggling to find something of significance to say about it)
Benjamin cuts in with "Well, it looks nice to me...and I think I would like to go there."

Um, ok.
Get right on that.

Reading one of Jonny's new Wiggles books to him and realizing I haven't spent as much time teaching him colors/shapes as I did with Benjamin at this age.
I get to the part in the book where it says, "Look at Murray, he loves the color red! He wears a red shirt and black pants. Can you name the shapes next to Murray in the picture?" I emphasize the question part with a giant, expectant grin on my face and look at Jonathan.

Jonny looks at me and smiles and shouts "Pants!"

Loved it.:)

And just a bit ago, I had Jonathan sitting in front of me and we were "zooming" cars back and forth with Benjamin, who was sitting across from us. When Jonny pushed the car and sent it off in the exact wrong direction, Benjamin immediately blurted out "Jonny, you're not doing it right."
But within miliseconds, he looks up at me and softens his tone dramatically and says, almost in a high-pitched voice, "It's ok, Jonny...you're just learning. You'll get it soon!"

Holy proud mom.
That last one was easily my favorite moment of the day...and for obvious reasons. Just love his little sensitive soul...and the kindness. He's learning how to be kind.
Obviously I know he says things like this to his brother for my benefit...because I'm right there watching...but I'll take it. I just unload my usual heaps of praise for that kind of attitude and hope it somehow sticks.

Time to go break up the fight over one of the new Thomas trains...

One day at at time, I guess.:)

On the Same Page

2008-12-11T15:59:00.000-08:00

We (parents, anyway) are all-too familiar with the importance of this with our spouse when raising children.

Well, today was not what I'd call Benjamin's best day.
And preschool pickup was not even close to what I'd call his best moment at school.
But I'll save that for another post.

All I need, all I feel the immediate urgency to share, is just how seriously my husband is taking this whole "same page" thing we talked about (under our breath) at dinner. Not that this was the first time we'd broached the subject, mind you...rather today's version of reinforcing the importance of it.
You get it.

Not two minutes ago, I'm kneeling down at Benjamin's level, at the bottom of our stairs...where he has just sat for three minutes (and cried and whined) for throwing a block at his brother's head. Brian is upstairs getting the bath ready for the boys, Jonny is recovering from his wounds in the TV room...and I am giving Benjamin my very BRIEF "why are you here?" and "this is where you'll land next time it happens" speech.

Benjamin is sucking on his fingers (unexplainable, gross new habit he's developed for moments of nervousness---including in front of the church last Sunday, but I digress) and listening to me, his eyes looking at the ground...my face butt-serious, my voice not angry, but direct and unflinching.

That is, until I notice a tall figure walking across the top of the stairs, ever so casually...with his pants around his ankles.
Biggest "I'm a pretty f***ing funny guy" expression on his face.

"What, Mommy?" Benjamin says...noticing it might just be party time: aka--"Mommy's not mad anymore".

"Nothing, Benjamin" I say...adding, for emphasis, "absolutely nothing up there."

Anyone ever tries to tell you their husband's "totally on the same page" with them, they're lying through their teeth.
Either that, or I'm married to a 12 year old.

Just in the mood for some pictures.

2008-12-09T17:46:00.000-08:00

Uncle Bill charmed his way right into the boys' hearts over TDay break...was so cute.
Benjamin with Muma at the Holiday Tree Festival

Me with Jonathan on the Gingerbread Express...wayyy too many funny things going on in this pic, the most hilarious being how excited I am...and how non-plussed that baby in front of me is...ok, wait...there are just too many...

I am sure. Benjamin praying during Grandpa's "grace" before the meal.

Jonny at home...with his gluten-free spaghetti...he loves it.

I've been tagged...

2008-12-08T18:30:00.000-08:00

...and need to somehow come up with 6 interesting things about myself as a result.

Hmmm.
I love a list.
And of course I just love writing in general...
However, it is Monday night...so I'm not promising these two things will merge all that well.

Nevertheless, I am so honored to have been tagged by a good buddy...so here goes:

1. I whistle backwards (if you don't get it, you'll have to ask...I'm not about to write out the words--I'll catch major flack from my sick-minded husband).

2. I know what the Disney Tunnels look like (and as a result, Minnie without her character head, smoking a cigarette at a pay phone).

3. Dracula is one of my favorite novels.

4. I received the Loyola President's Medallion for the School of Ed in 2000...and I guess it's just one of those things I'm super proud of...but the best part might be that my best friend Gaby (who worked in the Dean's office) told me ahead of time I'd won, while we waited in a doctor's waiting room on a Saturday morning.

5. I knew I'd marry Brian on our second date.

6. I once rehabbed a Cabrini Green apartment...but now am afraid of mice in my own house.

Ok.
So the following people are now being tagged by me!

* My brother Chris
* My good friend Dina
* Margo (whom I adore for introducing me to Anusara Yoga...and her maccaroons--sp?)
* Ann (my sis in law)
* Mike (whom I adore for his insane loyalty)
* Dawn (whom I adore for so many reasons--the least of which are the many hilarious expressions I've adopted from her, and who doesn't have a Blog...but I know she's reading and dammit--you need to get one, D!)

Ok...you've got your marching orders, friends (do I sound like John McCain, my friends?)...now go forth and make my list look bad!

S.A.D.

2008-12-06T07:08:00.001-08:00

Seasonal Affective Disorder.
I think I might have this.

As long as I can remember I've loved winter...for the many ways to have fun in the snow, the holidays (of course!), the sweaters and jeans...and just for how picturesque it is. How it makes me want to read more, cook more, drink hot cocoa more, and even organize my house more.

Lately, however, I've been suffering from a mild case of warm-weather-withdrawal. And I've got several reasons for this, but the greatest of these is the simple outdoor time with my kids. I miss it. I miss it in the morning, when we have an hour to kill and we can't go walking on "the trail". I miss it after lunch, when I can't send the boys in the backyard while I clean up the kitchen. I miss it in the afternoon, when I can't sit on the front stoop and read (or usually, talk on the phone) while the boys nap...but oh...oh...how I miss it at that truly special time of day: the pre-dinner hour.
Holy crap, friends. It's killing me.

On a lovely warm weather day, my wee ones--hard-wired with the rambunctious and crazy chromosome--play happily outside with a random assortment of neighbor friends. And even though I'm chasing them up and down the street in my flip-flops, we're all happy because we're breathing fresh air. And the scenery has changed.
But lately, lately...well, yeah. Not so much.

Lately they're spending their time running around the main floor, creating new and sometimes dangerous obstacle courses around the first floor of the house. And I certainly haven't seen the whites of my neighbors eyes in weeks (this makes me particularly sad, being the social creature that I am), and no...no...I'm not wearing my flip-flops.
Major sad.
Not even to Yoga class.

As mentioned, what bothers me the most is the social bit. I miss the random conversations with neighbors, the sharing of stories from that day's craziness with fellow moms in the neighborhood, the impromptu plans that are often made just by being out and about among neighbors...but mostly, just watching my boys run around and get all red-faced and sweaty from the outdoor fun. I really miss that. I miss (believe it or not!) having to give them baths every night because their little bodies are grass-stained and covered in dirt. And I miss the daylight that we have, whether we venture outside again at night...or just enjoy the fact that it's light out.

Seriously, I think I might have that thing they call Seasonal Affective Disorder.
And if I didn't have it before, I surely have it since moving to this neighborhood...and more importanly, having kids.

But.
There is a but (and no, not the one on my posterior--which, ok, randomly? is not fitting the same in my jeans after all these months of Yoga...but anyway).
What I'd like to mention now...at the end of my tirade on the woes of winter...is how special it's finally becoming, now that we're fully immersed in it.

This morning, for example, just getting the boys all geared up from head to toe in their snow suits and watching them walk like zombies (Jonny's the funniest...PLG boots are Benjamin's hand me downs and a bit too big) out into the snow. And as I type, they are helping their neighbor friend (yes, we still seem to make contact) build a snow fort. It's so much fun to watch...and every now and then Brian walks over and dumps snow on them from the shovel, sending them all into hysterics.
In an hour or so we're on our way to get our Christmas tree...and the boys (especially Benjamin) are out-of-their-mind excited (I want to officially patent that phrase for all things Christmas-related with children) about decorating it.
Tonight we have our annual Christmas Road Rally with the neighborhood...which the Millers and we are co-hosting this year. We've spent a lot of time putting it together, including one late night over beers thinking up ways to raise the bar on the creative and hilarious factor of the event. As our beloved neighborhood mayor (known as Ted Oostendorp) said at one of our last summer gatherings--"Ok guys, we've got to plan some events for wintertime...otherwise we won't see eachother!"
And while this sentiment might seem a bit ridiculous to some, it's not to me. Or, I'll venture to say, to any of my neighbors. Or really to anyone who can relate. It's just important to find ways to maintain the sense of neighborliness (did I really just use that word? shoot me now.)...or you go insane.

So, I guess...I'll submit. I'll give in to this winter thing.
I might even enjoy it.
I'll miss the random drop-ins of friends (one favorite suddenly comes to mind---Maureen riding up our driveway on her Pee Wee Herman style bike on a Sunday afternoon, on her way home from Rite Aid, where she rode to get a bottle of gin for that night's BBQ at the Millers...and popped her head into our mudroom door with the following statement: "You guys are going to Megan and Brian's later, right? And holy s**t...did you see that f***ing McCain/Palin sign up in the new neighbor's yard? Seriously, Meg...can you get me an Obama sign now for our yard? Better yet, get me two!" ......and with that, she hops back on her bike and pedals home around the block).

But here's to tonight's festivities.
Here's to the hilarious prizes I found last night at World Market.
And here's to the holiday cheer and fun in the snow with kids...

And to Maureen, who'll be at the party.:)

Jonathan Christopher...

2008-11-21T11:46:00.001-08:00

As long as you live, you may never fully comprehend just how in love with you I am...and have been from day one.

But as long as I live, I'll surely never comprehend what makes you tick. You have, no doubt, thrown me some curve-balls in your first two years...and with each one, I become a better mommy. Of this I am certain.

But lately, Jonathan? Lately?

You're killing me.

And I'm not referring to your antics during meals, your destruction of your brother's toys, your obsession with "buttons!" (but only the ones on our DVD player, stereo or computer)...no, I am not referring to the many ways in which you make me scramble on a given day.

I'm talking specifically about what you've been cookin up at night.

And by "night" I mean any time between the hours of 1 and 5am.

Of course, I get the fact that you're cutting your molars...and that most kids, at different stages of development, go through nighttime wakings. But most of these kids, Jonathan, are suffering from some kind of bad dream, sickness, or just your run-of-the-mill mommy separation.

Not you, though. Not even a sore gum or two could be causing your latest adventures. Why am I certain of this? Because not once, in the past few weeks (oh shit, maybe it's even months) have you:

1. cried for mommy

2. been visibly sick/ had a fever

3. been the least bit troubled at all

However, you have been fairly consistent with the following:

1. climbing out of your crib

2. playing with random toys in your room

3. climbing into and sitting quietly in the bathtub

4. bum-rushing your brother's bed and throwing yourself on top of him...thus waking the world's LEAST RECEPTIVE 3 year old to sleep interruption

5. sitting in your glider chair and singing...and lately, counting (we're proud of this new skill, but not at 4 in the morning, big guy)

6. and my favorite, as of last night: sitting in your blue Thomas chair in the middle of the kitchen.

I am glad, Jonathan, that you are not sick or going through some sort of emotional ordeal. For this, I am surely grateful. But for the love of God, my sweet boy...WHAT is happening during your slumber that says to you--"This shit's gettin old...gonna go see what's happenin round here..."??????

And I love the independence, I really do. The fact that I've found you in/involved with items 1 through 6 is evidence enough of your independent spirit. Not once have your daddy and I seen the whites of your eyes peering at us in our bed, asking for attention.

But by now I'm past the point of concern or worry...or even sheer frustration.

I'm just f***ing tired.

Tired.

Exhausted.

Spent.

And also kind of amazed. And...ok...giggling a bit on the inside (though I'll NEVER let on).

But mostly?

I'm just really, really tired.

Don't cry over spilled milkshake.

2008-11-20T11:53:00.000-08:00

Today we went out for lunch with my mom, right after preschool.
Both boys were in rare form. Jonathan was on a music-high from Miss Michelle's class (and pure lack of sleep adrenalin--ask me bout THAT madness later), and Benjamin was all hopped up on post-preschool giddyness.

Both boys have milkshakes...which spells trouble, no matter what. But just when I decide not to watch Benjamin with his chocolate shake--sans lid or straw--he reaches for the ginormous menu off the table and knocks the whole shake over...spilling across the table, and into my mom's and my lap. She and I quickly react, cleaning it up, and I say "Benjamin...honey...you've got to watch what you're doing!"....and here's HIS reaction, totally non-plussed, totally hidden behind the menu and studying it closely:
"Hmm...sorry, guys. I just had to see what was on the menu here."

Sorry, guys? You've got to be kidding me...I want to burst out laughing, but don't. My mom and I just stare with big eyes at eachother and try not to laugh.

Waitress comes over and asks if we need more napkins, which is when Benjamin decides to peer out of one side of the menu (picture Ward Cleaver, saying something to "The Beav" while reading the paper) and says to the waitress, in his ever-famous and hilarious drawl:
"Yeah...I kinda made a mess there. But they're cleaning it up. We got it."

Loved it.
Not the world's best behavior from a 3 year old in a restaurant, but you gotta give him points for style. And besides, I blame the spillage skillz on his daddy.
That one had Brian's name written ALL over it.

Meanwhile, Jonathan's face is so submerged into his cup of vanilla milkshake, that there's a ring around his face when he pulls it away...gap-toothed grin, huge laugh...and sheer delight in his ice cream treat.
That one had his MOMMY written all over it.:)

Not a Bad Monday

2008-11-17T13:34:00.000-08:00

*Random free coffee at Bigby's! (spread the word--they give one out once a day to an unknowing recipient)

*Jonathan asking me in a complete sentence, "Mommeee? Isss dinna red-eee?"
(Last night after playing with the babysitters at church during youth group...he announced to me, "Mommee...I have fun at chawwch!"

*Dentist forgot to send stickers home (for the boys) with me at my checkup last week...so mailed them to Benjamin. He got them in the mail today, with his name on them. Loved that.:)

Anyway...had to share.
Brian leaves for the rest of the week, will be in San Francisco.....sigh....time to rock it out.

A Referendum on Relationships

2008-11-14T09:34:00.000-08:00

If only I were gay... I'd have married my best friend Gaby years ago.

Ok, so this is a bit of an odd way to begin a post...but the idea came to me--well, to both of us--over a recent phone conversation. And before I go on, I must thank you, Gabs--if you're reading--for one of the best chats I've had in a long time...and I don't need to explain why. My gratitude for you and the kind of friend you've been to me since the day we met is unending...thanks for being who you are.
And since I know certain dudes are wondering (Christopher? Shawn?)---the answer is No. I'm not about to make out with Gaby. Not at all. Though I dare say her hugs are far and away superior to those of my husband's. But anyway...

It's impossible for most men to understand the closeness of a girlfriend...but what I think they truly underestimate, is just how necessary that friendship is to our survival. We--and I speak for anyone who may agree here--love you, dear husbands...but there are just certain things you'll never be able to appreciate.

For example, the need to be noticed. Appreciated. It's not that my husband is necessarily bad at these things...it's just that certain close friends of mine, and family members, are far better at it. A friend who writes a thank you note for a gathering at your house...a sister-in-law who goes out of her way to always write back (almost always within minutes, I swear) with "comments" after you send out pictures...a friend who always notices your ass in your jeans and isn't afraid to say so (LOL)...a mom who swoops in and takes one of your kids for the afternoon without even asking, knowing full-well how close you were to the edge of insanity that particular day...or a brother (getting special mention in a list of chicks, here) who doesn't hold back the "proud of you" statements after you've poured your heart and soul into something.
I guess we all just want to be seen by others, don't we?
And let me clarify: by this I don't mean seen in a way that makes us the center of attention, or that praises us unneccessarily for something we've done...or that enables a sense of neediness or insecurity on our part.
What I mean is the feeling that somebody gets you. That they understand your intentions, simply because they have taken the time to get who you are. That they grant you the benefit of the doubt in any situation, based on the context of knowing where your heart is. That they absorb the meaningful things you say to them...the gestures you make...and remember them, even when they're unsure of where you're coming from sometimes.
That they are listening...aware...engaged.

I say this, because, I've been adrift lately.
Lost, even.
And some days, drowning in my own self-induced chaos. Struggling (physically and emotionally) to somehow prioritize the things, and more importantly, people that need my attention...when my kids seem to drain every last ouce of energy and focus I have each day.
But I haven't stopped being aware of who the important people are in my life. If anything, I've become more acutely aware of their presence...in new and eye-opening ways...and in other ways, aware of the places where I falsely imagined real, true understanding.
I wonder if anyone else ever goes through this...?
It's almost as though the person you perceive to have let you down isn't even at fault. You are. I think we've all experienced this, whether it be with old college friends, members of our extended family, our friends of "life circumstance", etc....once in a while you realize you've given someone too much credit for really understanding you...while in other cases, you realize that someone you never imagined got you, really does.

I worry a lot. Way too much, in fact.
Lately, I've been operating under this dark cloud of guilt for not being in touch with the people I love the most. I want to talk to my brother Jon so much more than I seem to have time for...and I worry that he isn't equipped to understand the complexities of my daily life--or rather, LACK of time. But then I wind up feeling like a total jackass for doubting his inability to get the place I'm in. Because even though he hasn't a clue what it's like to walk in my shoes...he continually and unselfishly grants me the benefit of the doubt.
Same with Gaby. She is the other person I've been aching to be in better touch with...and yet not once has she been impatient with me or jumped to irrational conclusions as to where my priorities are.
And this list isn't limited to my brother and my best friend...I am beyond grateful for so many people in my life, particularly when I realize just how much they're willing to forgive in return for my own shortcomings. A good friend who gives me the chance to share just how busy and crazed I've been with my kids, and only offers more support and friendship in return (love you, D.W.)...a cousin who insists on finding consensus on our political opinions in a compassionate way...a brother who, after I leave an apologetic message about being unavailable on his voicemail, leaves me a message with nothing but Coming to America movie quotes and makes me piss myself while driving...or a husband, who just quietly listens while I bawl and rant away, and never...not even for a second...loses composure. He just listens.

These people...all of them...they get you.
And if they don't, they want to and are trying.

Ughh. Not really sure where I'm going with this.

I just know that relationships in general have been on my mind a lot lately...my own ability (or lack thereof) to maintain them the way I'd like, as well as the overall health of my expectations.
I suppose it's all begun with my own increased awareness of self and how I relate to others.
Yoga maybe? I know a lot of it comes from my practice and meditation during class, for sure. It's the only time I am truly afforded the opportunity to go deep and reflect...and analyze. I suppose that's why I've been having revelations left and right lately. A kind of "teasing out" of priorities, intentions, expectations, etc.

That's where I feel like I am lately.
Nothing earth shattering or on the level of epiphany...but just a slow whittling away of the stuff that isn't real or authentic at all, but rather a product of my own "projection". I've been bad about this as long as I can remember...placing too much stock in someone or something...and being devastated when things aren't as I once imagined them to be.
Perhaps I'm just in a nesting phase. And no, I'm not pregnant. Maybe it should be called cleaning house...emotional catharsis...or even more simply, and most accurately in my case, an allout breakdown. And not the lying face-down on the kitchen floor, drool coming out of the corner of my mouth kind...actually, the image is much more uplifting. It's the kind of emotional fallout that leads one to introspection, re-aligning of priorities and relationships, and an overall sense of inner wellness and renewal.

I know, I know...cue the sanskrit chanting CDs and dim the lights...
But I rather imagine it's a phase we all go through from time to time.

So, for what it's worth.
That's where I am right now.

For weeks I've struggled with how to keep up better with so many things...and this blog is one of them. And so while my catharsis might not be very articulate or at all decipherable...it's finally out there. Outside of my head, written down.
The best and most time-tested way I know to work through shit.

A Week Ago Today!

2008-11-11T10:37:00.000-08:00

For some reason these uploaded in reverse order...because the last picture is from the beginning of the day--me with my voter registration card. So proud that morning. And a little teary when I walked out of Wealthy Elementary after voting...I'll never forget it!

The election party was truly a memorable gathering, for so many reasons. For now I'll just leave you with the pictures. Not much else I can say that hasn't been felt by so many others already.

A night to remember!

(oh, and the kissy shot was supposed to be last...and titled "Obama Wins!!!")

On the Eve of Change

2008-11-03T17:00:00.000-08:00

I have some things I feel like saying...or writing down, rather.

Always a fan of a good metaphor, here's mine for today: I am in labor.

I say this for several reasons...one, there's no doubt that I've been carrying a heavy load around the past several months. And as with both pregnancies I've endured, there has surely been a great deal of physical burden, but even more so--an emotional one. But mostly, it's been pure magic. Complete exhilaration, marvel and total empowerment.
And yes, at many times an experience wrought with fear and panic.

But today--tonight, really--as I stare Election Day in the face...I am oddly enough in the same exact state I was when I went into labor: the picture of calm.
Okay, so with Jonathan it kinda helped that I was getting a pedicure at the time...but you get the idea. The amount of angst, preparation and sheer excitement that predicated the event itself was in sharp contrast to the serious calm and focus I felt when the time came.
Such is how I feel tonight.

And I guess what I want to write most about tonight isn't that I'm so proud of myself for not blowing a gasket by now (because let's be honest, I still have 24 hours and the polls haven't even opened yet...), but rather the fact that after all of these months of devouring, pouring over and ultimately getting involved in this election, the thing I'm proud most of isn't the result. It's the process. Always...the process.
This is why I wanted to write this post tonight. Because regardless of tomorrow's outcome, my feelings about being involved in this current election are real...and unattached to any result. Of course I'm hoping Barack wins...OF COURSE I am...but if he doesn't, it won't make me any less proud of the weeks I've spent putting myself out there in the discourse and momentum of the campaign. It won't make me regret any time I spent making phone calls, talking to complete strangers about something so intimately personal to me, standing in long lines just to see a candidate or political figure...and it sure as hell won't make me ashamed or regretful of the way I've allowed this election to transform me.

Brian likes to say that it's just how I am...that it's virtually impossible for me to harbor an opinion on something and not share it. And he's right. But what even he didn't understand until the last few months, is that this particular "cause" has been unlike any other I've encountered. Sure, I have opinions on a whole range of topics...and rare is the occasion that I keep them private.
But it's not often that a moment in history becomes personal for me. It's not often, in this moment-to-moment life I lead that I find anything happening outside the realm of immediate family as relevant.
And it's not often that a political figure inspires me to not only believe in my own ability to affect change...but even more significantly, to call upon my civic responsibility to make it happen.

Perhaps the most difficult aspect of this process for me has been dispelling misperceptions...and not just of my candidate, but of myself. My demographic. My intentions.
Some people think that young people such as myself get involved because we're still young and idealistic. To such people I would ask the following: "How can you blame me for the former and expect anything less than the later?"

Another notion some have is that "moms" like me are just bored, that we need a hobby...and that getting involved in politics is just something to do with all of our spare time.
I'm not even going to go there on this one.

Wait, yes I am.
To these f**knuts I would ask the following: "Have you met my kids?!? What exactly do you consider spare time? Because I wouldn't know it if it hit me square between the loads of laundry and dishes and fights over toys and sprints down the block after my two year old who just figured out the child-protected door handle and is now running half naked down my street..."
I'd also show this person my family budget...how tight it is...and ask them to consider my paying for a babysitter while my husband's traveling, just to go and volunteer my time to the campaign.

But I think the worst misconception of all is one that any of us with a political opinion faces...that we are somehow too close to it all...or investing too much of our attention and emotional well-being in something that is beyond our reach or control. It's the same argument, I feel, that suggests it's somehow possible for teachers and social workers to not take their work home with them at the end of the day.
It's impossible.
And you know why? Because the minute you decide to even give a shit about any of it, is the minute you promise yourself to its cause. The very reasons you have for committing your time to seeing it through are so closely linked to who you are, that they aren't even separate from you. They're your true nature.

I've often talked with Brian about my philosophy courses from college. There were two that I'll never forget, largely for the impact that the professors had on me. But one particular "philosopher" always comes up when I find myself in a conversation with Brian about causes...how we relate to them, and how we know when our passion for them is real. His name was Foucault, and it's impossible for me to summarize the theories and ideas of his that made a lasting impression on me. But one notion of his will always remain when I think of any kind of activism...or volunteer work, if you will. It's the idea that having passion for and attachment to any kind of cause or movement is, in itself, real. But by placing yourself squarely in the midst of its energy and intent, you are claiming it as part of yourself.

So to anyone who is curious as to why I've placed such importance on this current election, I might offer the following: "It's personal."

But to my children...my boys...I will one day ask them to look not at the outcome of this presidential race, but rather the process...and hopefully know something important about their mom for having placed herself squarely in the center of it.

A Blog for my Blog

2008-11-02T05:09:00.000-08:00

I need one of these, for real.
A place to jot down all of the little moments that happen throughout the day...the observations that are touching and thought-provoking. And then, of course, the over-arching themes that tie it all together. I need an actual, separate blog meant just for these thoughts. That way, when I find myself with actual "time"...I have them ready.
I love when I can come up with ways to string together all of the bits of randomness in my life...or even better, when I can find the alone time to just really write about the best parts of my day. Because that's why I started this blog in the first place--to create a space for the authentic and honest--and often hilarious--moments and observations of my life to be chronicled. Mostly I just want to look back and remember them in all of their vivid messiness.

But lately?
I don't seem to have the time.
Or attention span, maybe. I'm less disciplined with my blogging...and even more with my own train of thought.
Perhaps I'm suffering from a bit of ADD...I wouldn't rule it out, anyway. Especially with what I know about "environment" and its affect on the attention span.
It wouldn't take an educational scholar to figure out why my focus is a bit...oh, how shall we say, EFFED up these days. Just look in the next room--one boy jumping on the train table while he launches trains into the air...the other boy coloring on the floor underneath the train table (wait--it's not as good as it sounds) and TIRELESSLY peppering me with questions about the colors, pictures, nature of and overall meaning embedded within the page of his coloring book.

What I'd like is to be able to effectively convey what this scene tells me about my children...that one, with all of his CHINESE WATER TORTURE-STYLE questions, is likely going to love Philosophy as much as me.
And the other one, with all of his...his....not sure what to call it yet....is nothing like his mom or dad. Except when he squirms and giggles when you snuggle him...that's got his mommy written all over it.

Sadly, though, I seem to struggle with my blog. I see it, hear it even, in my head all the time...but then I open up the link on my computer screen and all I see lately is pictures. And the random "list"--a real favorite of mine...clever, observational, and often funny...but always a mere stand-in for actual thought and substance.

Honestly.
I suck at this.

Time to go clean up milk that has just been squirted out of a sippy all over a sofa chair...and is now dripping onto the carpet*.
I'm so not kidding.

* denotes things that can and always will happen while I blog...five feet away.

Some recent faves!

2008-10-28T10:00:00.000-07:00

Can you tell I'm procrastinating writing in my blog?

The Secret Life of Boys

2008-10-20T12:03:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I saw one of the best movies I've seen in a long time...well, who am I kidding--I hardly ever GO to movies! But for what it's worth, "The Secret Life of Bees" is definitely worth seeing. And no, I have not read the book...and in some ways was able to imagine the parts in the movie where more subtext would've made it that much more meaningful...but in the end, I suppose I was blissfully unaware.

A great movie.

I highly recommend.

As for my boys, well...the following happened as I was giving them baths before bedtime last night:

(both boys playing happily in the tub while I wash my face and straighten up the bathroom)

Benjamin: "Jonny, watch! Do this!!" (B proceeds to stand up in tub and begin smacking his belly, dangerously close to the goods, with the greatest of vigor)

Jonathan: "Ha, ha...okayy!" (copies B, and hilarity between the two of them immediately ensues...they are both whackin away at their junk and laughing hysterically)

Me (feeling a bit intrusive all of a sudden): "Ok..." (and with that I leave the room to fold laundry in bedroom for a minute, where I begin to overhear the rest...)

Benjamin: "Jonny, if you want to get clean and all soapy you have to get sit...ok, Jonny? You have to sit down."

Jonathan: "Nnnno!"

Benjamin: *yelling* "Mommmeeee! Jonny hit me!!"

Me (at door of bathroom again): "Jonathan, keep your hands to yourself, Buddy...and Benjamin, don't order him around so much!" (all very effective, as usual)

Benjamin: "Jonny, you can't hit me...ok, Jonny? You can't hit. That's what I'm telling you." (Benjamin repeats this statement when he realizes how much his brother is not paying attention to him...and just when B starts to get frustrated...)

Jonathan: "Benny, hug?" (PLG impromptu hug erases all animosity...both boys make the "ahhh" noise and giggle)

Jonathan: "Benny, key-assss?" (PLG impromptu smooch...for realz.)

Benjamin: "Mommy, we're ok...you don't need to be in here. I'm not so naughty to Jonny anymore. Go be with Daddy in his office."

So glad they had it under control.

And of course, the political.

2008-10-17T05:45:00.000-07:00

A season never to be forgotten! What an inspiring time it's been...motivating, empowering, unifying, truly exciting...and unbelievably fun.

In the Interest of Time

2008-10-17T05:26:00.000-07:00

Some pictures to update my blog on all that has been happening in our lives the past month or so. Benjamin's first day of preschool, Jonny in his oh-so-appropriate t-shirt from Dawn (bday gift!), Benjamin with me at youth group retreat, us with the Millers at the Mayflower Family Fun Night, and Jonny in the famous Koetsier's ballon house during one of his many bday parties last month.:)

A more substantive post to follow real soon.

Real soon.

"Integrating the content areas"

2008-10-09T08:14:00.000-07:00

That's what we call, in teaching, when you integrate one subject into the teaching of another. For example, practicing how to spell and learn the meaning of math terms. Or using music to teach science.
Embracing the "multiple intelligences".

Anyway. Care much? Didn't think so.
But it seems Jonny is doing this with his gymnastics and music skills.

Sitting in our circle in our Music Together class this morning, we were all shaking egg-sized maracas in our hands and mimicing the instructor's rhythm...a feisty Latin beat was the teacher's choice today (Mommy's hips were moving, even as I sat with J in my lap). Anyway, so at the end of the song, we all follow the teacher's lead and plunk our maracas down on the padded, colorful floor right on the final beat.
And this is when Jonny jumps to his feet, bends over and does a somersault right into the center of the circle...stands up and pumps his fists in the air and shouts "Ta-Daaa!"

No joke.
Hilarious.
I almost peed.
And as you might imagine, it was a total hit. Except when J realized how much of a success this stunt was, he attempted to do somersaults at random times throughout the session.
Not so appropriate during the "skipping in a circle" segment.

Have I mentioned how much I love this kid?
He is a bona fide handful of craziness and impulsivity...but such a bright and present spirit.

I adore you, Jonny C.
Thank you for teaching me the importance of integrating gymnastics into music.
Or, as it might be in your case, a little bit of theater into a group setting.

Hmm...whose side do you get this from?

What I Appreciate

2008-10-07T09:42:00.001-07:00

As a mom to Jonathan Richards, I appreciate witnessing another mom running after her 2yr old son in the gym parking lot...with the child running so fast, the mom's not gaining much ground...and she's somehow trying to keep her purse from flying up in her face and still look like she's got it all together at the same time. And was that her water bottle that went flying? Yup, been there, too.

As a lover of all things "fall", I appreciate very much the lengths to which my little town will go to celebrate it.

As a non-conformist to the "put together and preppy" crowd at preschool drop-off, I very much appreciate the few other moms who have nasty, sweaty hair and are wearing non-designer sweats on the playground at pick-up time. (secretly, I am jealous of the Ann Taylor crowd for some insane reason...but only because their hair is blown dry and probably smells terrific)

As a lover of snacks that are sweet AND salty, I deeply appreciate those who put peanuts in their bowl of candy corn. Seriously? It's my addiction right now, and it aint pretty.

And finally, as an avid writer, there's often little else I appreciate more than someone else's ability to put my own views and feelings into words. And in a much smarter and more clever way than I ever could.

Cheers to that.

Why we're naked THIS time...

2008-10-06T15:18:00.001-07:00

As I put their toys away in the garage after our late-afternoon walk to 'Bucks (mmm...hot caramel apple cider)...I walk into the backyard to find them covering eachother in wet woodchips...and Jonathan, eating them. That's right. As he sees me he starts to whine, realizing how truly non-delicious they are....and then, as I start wiping them off his face, he ralphs.

Ever think you'd see your kid throwing up woodchips?
Me neither.

So, off went his clothes, covered in nastiness...and Benjamin's too, as he'd managed to cover himself in enough wet woodchip-ness that his hair was literally thick with it.
Clothes in the washer, I made them both hang their heads out of the back door onto the deck and spastically ran my hands through their hair.
And then?
Then I cut them loose in their diapers and went for the camera.
I mean really...what else can you do in a situation like this?

When Brian and I first talked about kids (oh, on our third or fourth date...lol) I remember saying..."I absolutely want to stay home with them, if I can."
I look back on this and laugh because I KNOW I was picturing a far different picture. For one, I was totally picturing a girl (at least one) in the mix. I was also picturing something a bit more idyllic and serene...and far less rambunctious and messy. I never pictured purple crayon all over my red sofas.

But the BEST news here is that if I could start over and script my life any other way, I'd change nothing. Not even the money being spent on vodka and wine each week...:)

Here's to life with the Richards' boys.
Sorry bout your coffee pot last Saturday, Bergsmas.:)

You Know You're in an Economic Crisis when:

2008-09-23T10:42:00.001-07:00

1. You mumble outloud in the grocery aisle when noticing price jumps on products.

2. You save and wrap up the last 4 or 5 bites of your toddler's mac and cheese (gluten free is pricey, so cut me a break).

3. Decisions about plans and what to do over the weekend involve the PLG "is it worth the cost of gas?" conversation.

4. You notice, for the first time, other people putting products back on the shelves after carrying them around in their cart and then deciding against them (thought it was just me and my gourmet cheeses).

5. Starbuck's ground coffee is regularly on sale at DandW.

6. You drink crappy wine...not all the time...but you do it. And you don't care.

7. You consider how important all of of your child's prescriptions are...and then buy them anyway.

8. You marvel at the fact that your bottle of vodka is "the same price it is at Costco, honey!!!" as it is at your local Rite Aid. But don't get too excited, the Huggies Pull-Ups will literally reach out and snatch your paycheck.
Seriously.

9. After years of worshipping Bill Maher, you cancel your HBO.

10. You make PLG lists on your blog about money woes.

Uggghhh...can we just elect a Democrat already?
(that was, incidentally, my first title for this post)

That's all.

Just in case you were wondering...

2008-09-19T08:54:00.000-07:00

...if I have moments of sheer bliss and happiness with my boys...I do.

Today has been such a great day from the start, so it's best to get at my blog before things change!
Woke up this morning to a few moments of total hilarity:

*Benjamin woke up first, calling out that his pull-up was wet. I went into his room and said "good morning", the whole routine...and helped him take off his wet bottoms. He proceeded to head downstairs bare-bottomed, while I slipped into the upstairs bathroom real quick to pee. I heard Jonny stirring, but he wasn't noisy yet, so I just called out "Morning, Jonny! Be there in a minute, Bud!"
I'm peeing (sorry Shawn), and I look over to my right, and what occured in the next few moments is exactly as follows (no, I mean NO exaggeration):
Jonathan's door opens...and out he walks, casually, dragging his blanket like Linus...and scratching the back of his head.
That's right. Got himself out of his crib.
What's possibly the funniest part of this is that I never even heard him climbing out. He was completely nonchalant about the whole thing, barely acknowledging me when he walked out into the hallway and saw me sitting on the potty.
My eyes were as big as saucers...I'm honestly not sure when I've been that surprised.

*Just then, as I'm marveling at this latest feat of monkey-dom on Jonny's part...I hear a cupboard open and slam shut downstairs, as Benjamin calls out:
"Mommm-aay! Mommm-aaay! We're out of pull-ups!"

So hilarious.
Only topped, maybe, by the comment in the car yesterday while driving home from pre-school.

"How was pre-school today, Bud? What'd you guys do? Anything exciting?" I ask.

(in Benjamin hanger pulling on the corner of his mouth voice) "Ehhh...naa...Mommy, you don't have to worry bout me. I was just hangin out."

But perhaps, the most adorable and endearing...right after lunch, as I was cleaning up the rice off the floor, Benjamin came up and hugged me in the most genuine, unassuming, non-attention-seeking way. Just quietly, and totally unprovoked.
I made one of my "oh, I just love you!" noises and Benjamin says to me:
"Mommy, you are just the most special child and I love you, ok?"

Divine interventioin, to be sure.
I'm certain of it.

Dear Brian...

2008-09-18T09:37:00.000-07:00

You can come home now.

Seriously, it's ok.
I know it's much more fun to be in San Francisco than on Santa Cruz these days...well, less chaotic, anyway. But we miss you.
I miss you.
In the past few days I've become increasingly convinced that the boys have it out for me...they are conspiring, I'm sure of it.
You'll be happy to know that I took your suggestion this morning about pre-school drop off and put Jonny in the Maclaren.
Didn't work. He managed to scream and push himself hard enough against the straps that he was practically standing upright in the stroller. And before I could get to him, he had grabbed a child's jacket out of their cubby, thrown it on the floor and yanked down the sign-in clipboard from the wall.
So, yes...the stroller kept him from actually crossing the thresh-hold into the room and getting into the paint. You were right about that. Kudos to you. Have another round of scotch for that bit of advice tonight...on the company, of course...and while you're at it, see if they can swing my bill from Jonny's allergist visit. I mean, they can pay for your sushi and fancy drinks, I'd like to think they could maybe afford those scripts? I'm just saying.
(p.s. see #12 added to yesterday's list)

Anyway, pre-school.
At pick-up, on the playground, it was JONATHAN who got into fisticuffs with another child...all while trying to monopolize the monkey bars. He hangs--doesn't yet know how to cross them--but refuses to let go...at all. Ever. And of course this frustrates the age-appropriate population of kids lined up to cross the bars. What can I do?
I decided not to use the stroller for pick-up, so when we left the playground, he ended up running across the parking lot so fast I couldn't keep up. When I got to him, he just went horizontal on me and screamed so loud I just knew the ChildAbusePreventionPeople...wherever they were... were in earshot.
He's killing me, Brian. Killing me. And I would just love maybe ten minutes around dinner time where he wasn't fighting with Benjamin or climbing on something or dumping something in the toilet. I'd love five minutes to go to the bathroom.
Is that too much to ask?

And why don't boys play with dolls? Why don't they sit quietly and put pretend makeup on pretend doll faces? I could even take the "girl fighting" if it meant my kitchen ceiling wouldn't spring a leak on me. Or my toilet overflow. (we've lost two rolls of tee pee this week)

Ok.
Deep breath.
You are right, it will be Friday soon. And we can do this crazy job together.
But in the meantime, would you be ever so sweet and just not call me while you're away? I love you more than life and know all you want is to just connect and hear my voice, but I'm just afraid that if you do call anytime in the next 24 hours, you're going to find Joan Crawford on the other end, screaming about "wire hangers!!!"...instead of your fun-loving wife.

Until then, enjoy the Rice-a-Roni.

Things I Never Imagined Myself Doing:

2008-09-17T10:16:00.000-07:00

1. Hosting a political event in my living room.

2. Carrying a manic 2yr old upside down, screaming and covered in blue paint (set out for pre-schoolers) out of my older child's pre-school class.

3. Shopping at grocery with said paint on my own shirt.

4. Asking my garbage man if he's registered to vote.

5. Planning a Halloween costume for myself that is sure to make me look homely, frumpy and completely heinus.

6. Turning in two separate pictures (one of me with Benjamin, the other of Brian and the boys) to Benjamin's pre-school teachers on "family picture" day, when I couldn't seem to dig up a picture of our entire family together. PLG.
Could that look more like a divorced family?

7. Frantically placing buckets and towels underneath my kitchen island light fixture...that was spewing water like Old Faithful after the boys flooded the upstairs bathroom.
(Reason for no blog entry that day: too many titles from which to choose)

8. Buying Halloween decorations for my house. (I swear I'll never buy a sweater, though)

9. Watching more news than reality tv.

10. Letting my kids eat popsicles at 10:30 in the morning.

So I guess you could say I've been busy lately. Happy? Of course. Frantic? Always. I had just watched a heartwarming movie on HBO Sunday night, after telling my husband that I didn't want any conversation...just wanted to veg and not talk to anybody. Anyway, I watched this wonderful movie and went to bed completely motivated to wake up with positive energy for my boys. In reality, I do this every day...but lately they've been pushing me right to the edge and over ten-thousand feet. So I wake up, make a great breakfast and fill my coffee cup...and...we're an hour and a half into our day when I get a phone call and decide--God forbid--to answer it. I chat with my girlfriend for a bit and as expected, mayhem ensues. Oh, I should add something here:

11. Yelling at my kids while on the phone with a friend. I swore up and down and every which way around the barn that I would NEVER do that one.

So they scurry upstairs, where the possibilities for mischief are endless, but I've got them pegged for playing in B's room and dancing to the b-ball hoop music (when the ball goes through the hoop, music and cheering erupts...but they've taken to just hitting the button without even introducing a ball into the equation...and dancing like total jack-a**es.....Yup, I said it...).
The amount of time they're upstairs is less than enough for me to even pee, pour another cup of coffee or fold an ounce of laundry.
But when I get upstairs, I find Jonny standing on the toilet and Benjamin on the stool...each of them laughing in hysterics (yet Benjamin, with a hint of foreboding when he sees me)...and me...up to my ankles in water. The sink is flowing over with water and flooding all over the floor...and out onto the carpeted upstairs hallway.

And I thought I wasn't going to blog about that one.
At any rate, I'll leave it at that. Except to add that we now have a new strip of yellowish-orange on our kitchen ceiling from the literal geyser that sprang forth over our light fixture.
Good times!

I mean this when I say that my life these days seems to be bringing with it, on a daily basis, situations I never deemed myself equipped with which to deal.
But somehow I'm getting through...yoga helps. Yoga REALLY helps.
And so does Pinot Noir. And friends...and Obama parties.:)
And a new, inspiring, thought-provoking, intellectually and socially relevant minister at church.

Life's pretty incredible, actually.
Just kinda wet sometimes.

And always nearing cocktail hour at warp speed.

Edited to add the following:
12. Paying $150 for allergy prescriptions.

New president, anyone?

"Be the Change"

2008-09-08T11:00:00.001-07:00

So proud of my brother Jon.

As of yesterday afternoon, he is in Uganda (in Africa) on a goodwill mission through his local Rotary organization. He'll be gone until late September, and I miss being able to hear his voice already. But I know that even in the last 24 hours he's already experienced the kinds of things that are hard to put into words...perspective gaining, eye-opening...and truly life-changing.

As I said over a "toast" at dinner with my family last Saturday night, Jon never does anything in a small way. Growing up, I don't think any of us imagined he'd be the one to take such huge leaps...but as I've come to realize, as I'm sure the rest of my family has, he is the kind of person that chooses adversity (and sometimes even conflict, really) in the most deliberate way...in order to be sure that he's truly coming to terms with his own kind of truth. He's flawed and imperfect, yes...but is easily one of the most inspiring people I know at the same time. Going to great lengths to broaden his world view...that's Jon. Never makes things simple for himself, to be certain.

And this isn't to say that any of the rest of us aren't able to be effective in smaller, less-noticeable ways...in fact, I know that's not true at all. I'm proud of anyone in my family who gets out there to make a difference. I just know that for Jon, this wasn't an easy decision.

I know that, because I just spent a few days of real quality time with him...and I'm so grateful.

Anyway, hats off to you Jon...whatever you're doing right now, I'm thinking about you and love you lots!

"Be the change you wish to see in the world"...this most famous quote seems awfully fitting today.

Can't Help Myself

2008-09-06T13:19:00.000-07:00

Lately, it seems, there are many other people putting into words what I cannot.
And here's my latest fave:

(please forgive me for beating this "horse" to death...though I do warn you, it may just be the beginning)

Palin: wrong woman, wrong message
Sarah Palin shares nothing but a chromosome with Hillary Clinton. She is Phyllis Schlafly, only younger.
By Gloria Steinem September 4, 2008

Here's the good news: Women have become so politically powerful that even the anti-feminist right wing -- the folks with a headlock on the Republican Party -- are trying to appease the gender gap with a first-ever female vice president. We owe this to women -- and to many men too -- who have picketed, gone on hunger strikes or confronted violence at the polls so women can vote. We owe it to Shirley Chisholm, who first took the "white-male-only" sign off the White House, and to Hillary Rodham Clinton, who hung in there through ridicule and misogyny to win 18 million votes.But here is even better news: It won't work. This isn't the first time a boss has picked an unqualified woman just because she agrees with him and opposes everything most other women want and need. Feminism has never been about getting a job for one woman. It's about making life more fair for women everywhere. It's not about a piece of the existing pie; there are too many of us for that. It's about baking a new pie.

Selecting Sarah Palin, who was touted all summer by Rush Limbaugh, is no way to attract most women, including die-hard Clinton supporters. Palin shares nothing but a chromosome with Clinton. Her down-home, divisive and deceptive speech did nothing to cosmeticize a Republican convention that has more than twice as many male delegates as female, a presidential candidate who is owned and operated by the right wing and a platform that opposes pretty much everything Clinton's candidacy stood for -- and that Barack Obama's still does. To vote in protest for McCain/Palin would be like saying, "Somebody stole my shoes, so I'll amputate my legs."

This is not to beat up on Palin. I defend her right to be wrong, even on issues that matter most to me. I regret that people say she can't do the job because she has children in need of care, especially if they wouldn't say the same about a father. I get no pleasure from imagining her in the spotlight on national and foreign policy issues about which she has zero background, with one month to learn to compete with Sen. Joe Biden's 37 years' experience.Palin has been honest about what she doesn't know. When asked last month about the vice presidency, she said, "I still can't answer that question until someone answers for me: What is it exactly that the VP does every day?" When asked about Iraq, she said, "I haven't really focused much on the war in Iraq."
She was elected governor largely because the incumbent was unpopular, and she's won over Alaskans mostly by using unprecedented oil wealth to give a $1,200 rebate to every resident. Now she is being praised by McCain's campaign as a tax cutter, despite the fact that Alaska has no state income or sales tax. Perhaps McCain has opposed affirmative action for so long that he doesn't know it's about inviting more people to meet standards, not lowering them. Or perhaps McCain is following the Bush administration habit, as in the Justice Department, of putting a job candidate's views on "God, guns and gays" ahead of competence. The difference is that McCain is filling a job one 72-year-old heartbeat away from the presidency. So let's be clear: The culprit is John McCain. He may have chosen Palin out of change-envy, or a belief that women can't tell the difference between form and content, but the main motive was to please right-wing ideologues; the same ones who nixed anyone who is now or ever has been a supporter of reproductive freedom. If that were not the case, McCain could have chosen a woman who knows what a vice president does and who has thought about Iraq; someone like Texas Sen. Kay Bailey Hutchison or Sen. Olympia Snowe of Maine. McCain could have taken a baby step away from right-wing patriarchs who determine his actions, right down to opposing the Violence Against Women Act. Palin's value to those patriarchs is clear: She opposes just about every issue that women support by a majority or plurality. She believes that creationism should be taught in public schools but disbelieves global warming; she opposes gun control but supports government control of women's wombs; she opposes stem cell research but approves "abstinence-only" programs, which increase unwanted births, sexually transmitted diseases and abortions; she tried to use taxpayers' millions for a state program to shoot wolves from the air but didn't spend enough money to fix a state school system with the lowest high-school graduation rate in the nation; she runs with a candidate who opposes the Fair Pay Act but supports $500 million in subsidies for a natural gas pipeline across Alaska; she supports drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Reserve, though even McCain has opted for the lesser evil of offshore drilling. She is Phyllis Schlafly, only younger.I don't doubt her sincerity. As a lifetime member of the National Rifle Assn., she doesn't just support killing animals from helicopters, she does it herself. She doesn't just talk about increasing the use of fossil fuels but puts a coal-burning power plant in her own small town. She doesn't just echo McCain's pledge to criminalize abortion by overturning Roe vs. Wade, she says that if one of her daughters were impregnated by rape or incest, she should bear the child. She not only opposes reproductive freedom as a human right but implies that it dictates abortion, without saying that it also protects the right to have a child.So far, the major new McCain supporter that Palin has attracted is James Dobson of Focus on the Family. Of course, for Dobson, "women are merely waiting for their husbands to assume leadership," so he may be voting for Palin's husband.

Being a hope-a-holic, however, I can see two long-term bipartisan gains from this contest. Republicans may learn they can't appeal to right-wing patriarchs and most women at the same time. A loss in November could cause the centrist majority of Republicans to take back their party, which was the first to support the Equal Rights Amendment and should be the last to want to invite government into the wombs of women.And American women, who suffer more because of having two full-time jobs than from any other single injustice, finally have support on a national stage from male leaders who know that women can't be equal outside the home until men are equal in it. Barack Obama and Joe Biden are campaigning on their belief that men should be, can be and want to be at home for their children. This could be huge.

Gloria Steinem is an author, feminist organizer and co-founder of the Women's Media Center. She supported Hillary Clinton and is now supporting Barack Obama.

And P.S.???

2008-09-05T15:23:00.000-07:00

This is something I've been wondering for the past few weeks, and I am seriously wanting to know:

Who the hell is T. Boone Pickens???

That's all.

Organizing...

2008-09-04T06:06:00.001-07:00

This week has been all about a new fall schedule, and getting the boys signed up and ready for the upcoming weeks. Benjamin starts preschool and a new session of Kidfit, plus swim lessons at East Hills. Jonny starts a Rompers class at East Hills and--this morning--a Music Together class with Mommy.

But last night I attended what might be the most important "meeting" of the week. With my mom, I gathered with several other Obama supporters at an "Obama party". It was held in the living room of one of my mom's friends from the GR Civic Theater. John March--a local, white, well-off, attorney (at one of GR's top firms) working in a conservative environment...and yet, unbelievably passionate about change for our country. Certainly breaking the mold.
At any rate, the gathering of people was, for sure, diverse...but most of all, impassioned and motivated. Several people spoke about their own story, why they are supporting Obama, etc...including myself. And once that happened, I realized just how devoted I am to this cause. And if I want to see my state go "blue", it's going to need more than my putting a yard sign in front of my house. Even if it does irk my neighbor across the street.
My point is that I'm ready. Ready to do more. I've signed up to do something I never even DREAMED I'd feel comfortable with, which is to go door to door. But when I think about my candidate, I realize that's the kind of campaign he's running...one from the ground up, with an emphasis on the impact of each single person. And the power of face to face contact.
Also? I'm going to host a party at my house. I might not have as nice of a living room to host it in...or as many nice wine glasses...but somehow I just don't think that's the point.
The campaign reps that attended and led our event amazed me. Neither of them from Michigan, both having uprooted their lives for the past 6 months to devote their energies to this campaign. One an owner of a marketing firm, the other a college student on scholarship. They both gave it all up to work for Barack. And both are living in homes of strangers from month to month, state to state, community to community. Gettin it done!

Point is, I'm just so freakin inspired and ready to put more of myself into this. I've been talking for a long time about how much I believe in this process, this candidate, etc...but I've never been more convinced of the need for my own voice being added to the effort.
That is, afterall, what Barack has been asking for all along...involvement from the ground up, not the other way around.
And so, I want to leave today's entry with an excerpt from an on point email I received today from the Obama campaign. Thought it pretty much summed up how I was feeling last night. How I felt about the speech by Palin (even though I turned it off half-way through)...but mostly, how I feel about moving forward.
I'm tired of the divisiveness from the Right.
Tired of being pandered to, simply because I'm a white, female, suburban mom and member of the middle class.
Tired of having my intelligence low-balled. And my expectations underestimated.
Tired of not doing anything more than stewing around getting frustrated.

Not when the stakes are this high.

And so, here's the quote from David Plouffe:

You know that despite what John McCain and his attack squad say, everyday people have the power to build something extraordinary when we come together.
Both Rudy Giuliani and Sarah Palin specifically mocked Barack's experience as a community organizer on the South Side of Chicago more than two decades ago, where he worked with people who had lost jobs and been left behind when the local steel plants closed.Let's clarify something for them right now. Community organizing is how ordinary people respond to out-of-touch politicians and their failed policies. And it's no surprise that, after eight years of George Bush, millions of people have found that by coming together in their local communities they can change the course of history. That promise is what our campaign has been about from the beginning. Throughout our history, ordinary people have made good on America's promise by organizing for change from the bottom up. Community organizing is the foundation of the civil rights movement, the women's suffrage movement, labor rights, and the 40-hour workweek. And it's happening today in church basements and community centers and living rooms across America.Meanwhile, we still haven't gotten a single idea during the entire Republican convention about the economy and how to lift a middle class so harmed by the Bush-McCain policies. It's now clear that John McCain's campaign has decided that desperate lies and personal attacks -- on Barack Obama and on you -- are the only way they can earn a third term for the Bush policies that McCain has supported more than 90 percent of the time.

Also felt like adding this article to today's post.
Thanks, Steph.:)

A Few Things I'll Remember Most...

2008-09-02T09:23:00.001-07:00

Summer officially came to a close this past weekend, which has left me a bit melancholy. Fortunately, we managed to fill our Labor Day Weekend with all the things we love about summer...and even better, with some of the people we've grown to enjoy the most.
Days at the pool have been some of the best times we've had as a family. Watching the boys grow more comfortable--and even daring--in the water, playing basketball at the kid-sized b-ball court (making mental note of Jonny's crazy skills already...seriously? a basket from free-throw-range?), watching them dig canals and rivers in the giant sandbox and play on the jungle gym in their sandy swimtrunks, and of course...laughing hysterically as their daddy comes shooting out of the water slide. The pool has been invaluable this summer. We've loved the camaraderie of several friends on many days/nights, but the best times were the ones where we were there just as a family...driving home with worn out, chlorine-soaked and butt-happy toddlers in the back of our mini-van.
And yes, we love our mini. So give us a break.

Neighborhood gatherings were at no shortage this summer, either. Some planned in advance, but most of them impromptu. And always with the icees. If I cut one plastic end of off an icee pop this summer, I did it a thousand times. Anyone else?
We do love our neighbors, though, and are so grateful for them. Sometime around late May we decided on a tradition with our friends Brian and Megan that if there was ever a Friday night that we were both free (which, unfortunately, only ended up happening about 3 or 4 times), we would gather at one of our houses for a BBQ. This past Friday night was one of the best. Annabel and Benjamin are, as Megan and I noted, unbelievably compatible as buds. They play so well together and have lengthy conversations...hysterical. Olivia and Jonathan haven't exactly bonded yet, but we see some serious plans being made in the way they look at eachother.:) But the best of all is the friendship that's developed with the adults. This past Friday night we sat in their back screened-in porch drinking margaritas while Jonathan slept in a pack-n-play upstairs, and Benjamin watched Arthur with Annabel on the couch. We laughed, talked (about politics mostly...one of our favorite things to discuss) and even managed to gossip like schoolgirls about the neighborhood. I think it was the first time I realized just how comfortable we've become with them.
It would've been a completely respectable evening (even with the gossip...you know you all do it) had we ended it there, but somewhere around 9pm Ted and Maureen (they need their own blog entry) showed up with drinks in their hands and invited us down to sit in their driveway around the chiminay (nooo idea how you spell that thing). So we went, bringing a monitor to listen for the little ones and letting Benjamin run around the backyard and play in the neighbor's tree fort.
At 9pm.
And we stayed until 11pm.
Benjamin was a mess. And so were the adults.:)
But it was, by far, one of the best Friday nights we had this summer. Even got to hear Ted talk about his job...which he hardly does (he's a medical examiner for Kent County).

The rest of the weekend was mostly time spent with other neighbors, including some of our faves, Sarah and Ryan. I adore these kids. I've been watching them, for the past year and a half, get older and more mature...but still have an unusual amount of patience with our boys. They show real interest in them and are always introducing them to the things I know I wouldn't...like how to make water balloons (ok, I'd probably do that), hold frogs and toads (um, no...I'd never do that), how to play dodgeball, four square, do somersaults (no one wants to see me do that), and so many other creative and rambunctious ways to pass the time.
Ryan will even be skateboarding down Santa Cruz with other boys his age...and when Benjamin runs to the edge of the sidewalk and calls his name (PLG), he'll stop, walk over, and kneel down by Benjamin and show him how the board works. One of these days I'm going to have to slip the kid a 5-spot for all the times he's kept B busy while I make dinner, too.
Anyway, we love having Ryan and Sarah nextdoor. After all, Sarah taught Benjamin how to sit with his hands in chin-mudra and chant "Om".
The second to last picture was taken by Brian Miller on a night out we had a few weekends ago...I think it was at Hopcat Brewery. At any rate, we all got a bit shnockered on pints (starting at Graydon's) that night. It was, gratefully, much like many other fun nights with friends we've been able to enjoy this summer...even a few out just the two of us, too. And of course I count my own family in the mix here, because holy cow...those were some of the rowdiest nights of all.:)

The last pic is of something I will always remember and hold dear...the way Jonny lays his head on my shoulder, especially with a stuffed animal or blankie to cuddle against. Both my boys are highly affectionate and loving, but Jonathan is--by far--a lot more cuddly. The boy loves to snuggle. And even though I know he'll always be this way, I know that the days of him cuddling so comfortably on my shoulder that he falls asleep are numbered.
Plus, he's getting damn heavy.

Important to note here, I think, are the less happy--but equally memorable--moments:

*saying goodbye to Allie and wishing her well at U of M
*Benjamin starring in an ad for Global Relief (impetigo, anyone?)
*Jonny slipping off of a deck chair at Orchard Hills and conking his head on the cement (the number of times this kid fell over this summer is too high to count, but this one was scary)
*Brian traveling...a lot (most memorable? Brian: "Hi honey, I'm eating sushi at a sweet sushi bar in Manhattan" Me: "Really? That is so awesome. Jonathan just pooped in the bathtub. Gotta jettison the toys asap.")
*Potty frustrations
*Tim Russert (I think that was springtime...but we think about it still to this day)
*the lady who verbally attacked me in the parking lot of Home Fabrics (did I not post about this?)
*the near-anxiety attack I had in Seattle when it got to be just one day too many away from my boys
*missing the pulled-pork cook-off (thanks for the leftovers, though, Shawn!)

At any rate, it's been one for the books.
And today...today Benjamin started preschool. Well, he had his "meet and greet", anyway. And it was beyond successful. To illustrate this, I will end this post with the following quotes taken from our morning at Mayflower.

Brian, as we pull into parking lot: "This is your preschool, Bud...isn't it great?"
Benjamin: "Aww, yeah...I think it is gonna be great." (if you're at all familiar with B's "drawl", then you hear this being said just perfectly)

Benjamin, to Lily McIntosh, upon seeing her in the hallway: "Hey Lily! This is preschool!"

Me, as we wait in the hallway outside his classroom to meet his teachers: "Well, we need to wait, Bud...because it's not our turn yet."
Benjamin: "But I want to go in, Mommy...I'm so excited to go in!"
(add here that when we finally did go in, he walked right up to the teachers, said his hellos...and disappeared to the toy area, without so much as a glance our way the entire time)

Me, as I fastened his carseat: "So next time we come, you're gonna stay...and Mommy will come back after a bit...just like I do at East Hills and The MAC...that sound pretty ok, Buddy?"

Benjamin: "Huh...yeaah...I think it surely does, Mommy."
Brian and me: bug-eyed and speechless in the front seat. Trying so hard not to laugh...and me...not to cry.

Need I say more.
Fall is officially here, and it seems we're all ready for it.

How comforting, really...

2008-08-25T16:13:00.000-07:00

...to know how right I am about certain things. And not in an ego sort of way, but rather in that reassuring way of realizing I know myself pretty damn well. As a result, I seem to know my brother just as well...as we are practically the same person.

Which means I could've predicted the following about my Seattle trip:

*I would find a new strength and appreciation for my "job".

*I would be able to connect with my brother in a way that is 100% impossible with kids around.

*Being in Seattle would give me the chance to see Jon in a different, more authentic light...it may not always be the city he calls home, but for now it is his home, and with Jon...well, that makes all the difference in what it's like to spend time with him.

*Coffee really does taste better in the Northwest.

*No one makes me laugh quite like my brother. No one.

*I don't exercise well on vacation.

*My seven jeans were a good investment. They do get better the more you wear them.

*Bloody marys are great by themselves, but just too filling with a meal.

*The air in the Northwest will always feel cleaner and more invigorating to me.

*Public transportation was cooler in my twenties. Somehow it smells more now.

*I'll never, I repeat never, be able to walk into an Aveda store and walk out without buying anything.

*My brother loves music. And you must be prepared to love it with him.

*Jonathan knows no stranger...or obstacle.

*I dig hippies. But I'll never be down with armpit hair.

*Beer tastes better in Seattle. But makes me fart just the same.

*I am actually pretty damn good at the game of pool.

The list goes on...though, unfortunately, doesnt get much more interesting. So I shall end it with the following items--or truths, if you will--that have been made more clear than I can ever remember:

*There is nothing more precious in the world than time spent with my boys.

*There is nothing more fulfilling than time spent with my boys.

*There are no other cheeks as soft and kisssable as my boys'.

*And there is nothing more intense or primal than the pull you feel when it's time to go home to them.

Cheers to Seattle...to my brother...I love you both.

But obviously the best part of my trip was getting off the plane in Grand Rapids.
I'm home!

Leavin on a jet plane...

2008-08-19T19:30:00.000-07:00

About 10 years ago (ok, so it was 11...exactly, in fact) I went out to visit my brother in his new home of Seattle for a few days. And those few days turned into 6 weeks.
6 of the most memorable, perspective-gaining and coming-of-age-ish weeks I can claim in my life.

So off I go, tomorrow, to spend a few short days with my bro...sad as hell about leaving my boys, but also anxious to get some time to myself.
Again.
For more than ten minutes.

My Yoga teacher quoted Saint Francis of Assisi (whoa, spell much, Meg?) tonight when she said "To find what one is looking for is to find oneself looking."

I love that.

Here's to going inward for a few days...and hopefully coming out a bit more of myself on the other side.

"Let's take a look in here..."

2008-08-18T04:06:00.000-07:00

Benjamin at his first dentist appointment a few weeks ago.

PLG.

He did so great, by the way--even let them clean and polish his little chicklets!

Anyway, I've been all over the map the last week or so...in truth, we all have. Seems everyone is busier than ever the past few weeks. Perhaps trying to savor the last bit of summer. I know we have. Orchard Hills, the beach, the park (during school hours), BBQs with neighbors, sprinkler fun, kiddie pool fun...lazy Sunday afternoons with neighbors...all things that seem, suddenly, to have this giant expiration date on them. Like they've been hit with the "use by this date" sticker gun at the grocery store.

So I guess we're just doing our best not to be frantic in our last few weeks of summer...this past weekend we spent a night out with some friends drinking beer, playing darts, drinking more beer...and eventually eating ultras at Yesterdog. Talk about a perfect night!

Anyway, we were yet again made aware of how fortunate we are in the kind of friends we've made.

Saturday we had one of the best Orchard Hills outings on the books.

The boys each ventured out a "little further" than before on their own...proving to have grown a bit more brave in the water this summer. And Benjamin actually laughed hysterically when Brian flew torpedo-like out of the mouth of the slide into the water...instead of crying and yelling because Daddy was having fun without him.

Ridic.

The boys made friends in the sand play area and helped fashion a rather impressive river of water. Jonathan mostly scooped sand and piled it...then jumped in it. But he was having such a blast and was--get this--in one spot for almost an entire 30 minute span!!! Brian and I were like..."um...why didn't we bring this morning's paper?"

Yesterday I spent most of the morning making lists for Brian about everything one might need to know in order to properly care for the 3 and under crowd in our house.

Gluten-free food on hand, what time Laptime is at the library, Kidfit at the MAC, what to pack for the pool...and basically how to keep Jonathan from running away, jumping off or climbing on furniture, removing safety plugs from outlets, submerging fresh rolls of toilet paper in the toilet bowl....and all other Dennis the Menace-style mischief that happens when you refill your coffee.

I also did heaps of laundry and actually got it all put away...and short of drawing a map to the boys' dressers and writing out a list of "acceptable outfit combinations"...I think Brian will be just fine assembling outfits.

You laugh, but last week he brought Benjamin to the MAC in Jonny's size 24mos sweat shorts.

Why all of this frenzied preparation?

I leave for Seattle on Wednesday!

Needless to say, I'm beginning to feel the tug on my heart about leaving home...not because I worry at all about the boys, but because I haven't ever been away from them (alone!) for this long. And I know they'll be fine, but holy cow...I'm going to miss them.

But something tells me once I'm on the plane with my book, stash of magazines...and bloody mary (don't worry bout it), I'm going to be juuuuust fine.:)

So, life is good.

Really good, in fact.

Busy, often angst-ridden, messy and chaotic...but also incredibly fun.

In my usual fashion, I go from "Meggy-meltdowns" about how disorganized and messy the house is...to deciding at 4pm that a neighborhood BBQ is just what our Sunday evening needed.

At our house.

But you know what?

It was a blast.

Kitchen, mudroom, backyard, family room....all had been cleaned that afternoon, and were filthy by the time the last set of neighbors went home.

One day there will be continuity in my life...or maybe even my blog entries.

Probably about the time we take Jonathan to college.

Until then, whatever it is we have in this family, it seems to be working.

Illinois State Fair 2008

2008-08-12T10:15:00.000-07:00

Pictures for now...stories later.
What a fun time they had at the fair!!!

"Tractors, diggers and trucks, oh my!"

2008-08-09T11:50:00.000-07:00

We are in Springfield this weekend.
And you know what? I seriously have grown to love it here. There was a time, as there likely is for most married folk, where traveling to your in-laws is more an effort born of obligation than anything else. But I can safely say it's become one of my favorite places to visit...especially with the boys.
I'm a bit hungover this morning, which is a testament to our usual late-night debauchery.
The boys are completely worn out from playing in the backyard, romping around with the neighbor kids are their sweet ride-on toys, being tackled, tickled and tossed around by their Uncle Mike...and are overall just stinkin happy to be at Muma and Grandpa's. As we turned the corner onto their street yesterday afternoon, Benjamin started pumping his fists into the air triumphantly and yelling "Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!! I can't wait to hug Muma!!!"

Precious.

When they wake up from their naps in a bit we're off to the State Fair...and oh, what a scene that's going to be. Farm animals galore, fatty foods, farm equipment (que the Benjamin gape-mouthed expression), kiddie rides...and to be sure, no forseeable shortage of mullets.
Always the mullets.

And as if my stomach wasn't already in agony from last night's Buffalo Wild Wings and drinking extravaganza...I'm about to further the case for Mylanta by shoving down a few elephant ears, funnel cakes, and --you guessed it-- Bud Lights.
Lest I forget to mention the beer tent at the fair.:)

I will say, proudly, that I ran 3 miles this morning (shout-out here to my sister in law, Ann, who taught me how to use this site). So perhaps that's easing my guilt a bit.
Shhyeah. Whatever.

Off I go...more gossip to dish about with my mother-in-law.
Love it.

Reason #25 to smile today...

2008-08-07T12:32:00.000-07:00

Why 25? Because that's the number of years I've known this girl.

Chiara is my best friend from childhood, and has remained one of the most special people in my life thus far.

She is amazing. And the best way I can think to describe her is just to say she is someone who truly lives her life without boundaries, self-imposed expectations, and least of all...pretention.

We keep up fairly well, which is hard to do with any long-distance friend. There's always the get together with her and her husband, Saiyid, that Brian and I have over Christmas each year...but visits outside of holiday time have been few and far between over the past few years. However, time and distance have absolutely *nothing* on the nature of my friendship with this girl...I'd even venture to say that the sheer differences in our lives have always been a key ingredient in our bond. It's how you know someone's one of your dearest friends, after all...when life circumstance has absolutely zero to do with the essence of your friendship.

It's all about history. And boy, do I have it with Chiara.

To be sure, our lives over the past few years have been dramatically different from one another.

Until now.

She's pregnant.:)

And having a boy.

And I just cannot stop smiling.

Amidst the chaos, some memorable moments...

2008-08-04T14:56:00.000-07:00

The last pic, of course, is testament to Brian's increased travel the past few weeks...this is a picture of Jonathan saying "Daddeee...noooo, Dadeeeee...no go..."

*Sigh*

My thoughts exactly.

Is the universe mad at me???

2008-07-30T17:38:00.000-07:00

I go to the MAC tonight, after Brian gets done working...to drain my head of all the funk today brought my way.
I decide to get a spinach salad from the fridge at the front desk, as I have over an hour before my class starts.
I go into lockeroom to put stuff in locker and sit at the table in front of the TV.
I sit down to eat my salad...put on raspberry vinegarette (sp?) dressing and spear a lovely piece of chicken, some pecans, spinach leaves and a few dried cherries onto my fork.
Ahhh.

And then I feel something on my back.
I swat it off.
But it's a bee.
And it stings the shit out of my finger.

Game over.

Back away slowly...

2008-07-30T08:35:00.000-07:00

...if you cross my path today.

I'm cranky and pissed off...and need to vent. Please forgive me in advance for being a royal biotch. K? Ok. Because here's the list:

1. SUPER naughty 3year old.
2. 1 year old (fresh from last night's forehead gash from a wooden step corner) hellbent on injuring himself...came within inches of jumping in fish pond at Breton Village this morning.
3. Y.I. (female trouble--if you're a chick, you can figure that one out).
4. Dad reparks my car last night (after backing his own car up to pick up trailer) and decides to crack the windows so my car can "breathe"......we had a massive thunderstorm last night.
5. Storytime at Pooh's Corner was minus Ms. Margaret today...and Ms. Wanda (that's actually her name) just didn't cut the mustard. Therefore, bedlam ensued...
6. I have a headache.
7. Jonathan decides to throw food all over kitchen (this isn't new), and while I'm on the floor picking it up...he dumps his milk on my head.
8. Both boys laugh...and when I say "Jonny!" (in a stern, but NON-angry voice) "Mommy doesn't like that", Benjamin starts to yell at me for yelling at Jonny.
9. As I'm changing the world's poopiest diaper (seriously, he could win an award for this one) on Jonathan, Benjamin lets himself out the front door to chase garbage man truck. I look up to yell out "Wait for Mommy!" and Jonathan puts both hands in said award-winning mess.
10. As I'm putting J down for a nap, I come down the stairs to find Benjamin...front door open..standing on the small rug at the bottom of the steps, practicing his golf swing and launching plastic golf balls into the front yard.
11. Did I mention the Y.I.?
12. Jonathan smells like home fragrance spray. This would be due to his climbing on the sofa, standing on the sofa armrest, and leaning over to grab bottle of lovely scent. When I race in to rescue him from the precarious position he's in, praying to God he doesn't lose footing or grip on mantle...he grabs bottle so fast it's cap whacks on the mantle, breaking spray nozzle off and leaking all over his forearm. When I grab him, he grips both hands kung-fu style onto the mantle and actually kicks me away from him.
And hangs...seriously...hangs from mantle.
13. When I put him down for nap he snuggles against me with his blanket and "B" and says "Mommeee...wuv Mommeee..." (this somewhat redeems him, so I had to add it here).
14. But I still have a Y.I. And it's annoying the bajeezus out of me...like everything else today. If I didn't know better, I'd think I was pregnant for all of the bitchiness.
But unfortunately I'm not.
I'm just a bitch.

F**k.

"Eat, Pray, Love"

2008-07-29T10:50:00.000-07:00

Why, yes indeed.
While reading this book the other day (I just started it--so far I like it enough...not in love yet) I realized that this could quite easily be the title of my summer.

Lots of eating (as has been documented).
Lots of praying (well, at Yoga, anyway...and anytime I'm with Jonny).
and LOTS of love (for my boys, my Brian, our family and friends...and our house).

Life has been pretty slow the past few weeks, and I've loved it. I know full well that my equilibrium is at its best when life is slower...I've always been this way. Life is just busy enough with these boys, that I find being in the moment the only way to keep myself sane...and not completely stupified as to where the time went.

Brian and I had one of our best date nights in a long time this past Saturday night...dinner out, and then a stop at BW3 (we like to keep it classy) for a beer...or two...on the way home. We actually sat outside at BDubbs and were the only ones out there for over an hour. It was great. It's funny in marriage how you find yourself more in sync at certain times than others...we always seem to be on the same page, but nights like the one we had last weekend serve as an even greater reminder of why we're together.
There's no real way to put it into words...even though I sometimes try.
It's just what we seem to have. And I'm grateful.

When we got home Saturday night, Allie gave us the usual run-down of how things went with the boys. And as luck would have it, Benjamin had been in rare form.
It seems, as Allie reported (her account was far more animated and hilarious), that when they were playing "car hospital"...Benjamin set aside two specific cars and proceeded to ignore them while taking the rest of his twelve-thousand cars to the hospital (bookshelf). When Allie asked him if he wanted to take the red car (one of the two he left behind), he told her it didn't need to go...since it didn't have "the flute" (his name for the "flu").
But when she asked him about the second car...which, upon inspection, she noticed was missing its wheels...he responded with the following:

"No...I don't want that one."
"Why not?" asked Allie.

Says Benjamin: "Ehh...it's too crappy."

Seriously, I can't believe I didn't blog that little nugget right away, because I've been laughing about it ever since.
And yet the obvious question remains...where in the world did he learn to talk that way?

Bite your tongue.

Bom-Diggity

2008-07-24T11:11:00.002-07:00

Well, I am obsessed.
With this stuff.

Sarah's going to think it's gone to my brain, for all of the talk I've given it this week...but I just poured myself a glass for an afternoon pick-me-up, and am thrilled to not be drinking coffee this time of day.
Two points for Meg.

Anyway, I bought some at Costco a few weeks ago and am seriously in love...drink it alone, in smoothies that I make for the boys (adding plain yogurt and bananas), and even mixed it with iced tea yesterday. Yum!

And that's my weekly product endorsement.

Imagination Station

2008-07-23T05:42:00.003-07:00

I have some hilarious bits of Benjamin to share...if for no other reason, than to eradicate the piss and vinegar of late yesterday from my blog.

Anyway, Benjamin's imagination has been on overdrive this week. And I shall share a few examples:

*Yesterday, while I was cleaning the bathroom upstairs, he and Jonny were playing in Brian's and my room...which never ends well, I should add. Jonathan usually ends up behind the tv messing with cords, or Benjamin will try to make a fort under our bed...or worse, lately, Jonathan's been trying to climb the bookcase. Anyway, as I'm cleaning the toilet yesterday (hey, I'm accurate in my stories if nothing else), I notice it's a bit too quiet in there...and go in to find them both sitting, hands in laps, in the back of our closet. When I find them, they both burst out in giggles..and Benjamin says,

"Mommaayy! We're having a TV show!"

"You are?" I say. "What show is it? Can I watch?"

"Um, um..." (stumped by the sudden need to name the show) "...it's the...the...McDonald's TV Show! And we're making ham-boogers!"

"Oooh...I'd love to watch how that's done" I say. "How do you make them?"

(p.s. Jonny is, the whole time, just holding his hands in his lap, butt-happy grin on his face, looking back and forth from Benjamin's face to mine...anxious for whatever is to come next)

"Well," says Benjamin, "we need to work verrrryy carefully. And you can have fries and grapes while you wait!"

Grapes?

*Next story: this morning, as I'm checking my email (bad mommy, bad mommy) I hear the two of them rustling around in the dining room. Just as I turn around to see what's going on, I find Benjamin hauling the giant oriental rug from that room into the kitchen...all rolled up and all. Then I go into the dining room to see the table (it's a small table, with wheels on the legs) up against the window.

"Mommaayy! It's a new big car wash! And if it's your birthday, you can use it. Ok, Mommy?"

"Hmm, it's not my birthday" I say.

"But, but...but...ok, Mommy, you can use it. Everybody can use it!"

"Wow, how inclusive of you, Bud...so, do I crawl through it?"

"Yes, but you need your car, Mommy."

High-larious.

I know in every other household there are a million stories like these...and they just crack me up. Love the little imaginations at work. When my nieces play restaurant and "take my order", I seriously want to pee. Like when Addie, my 3year old niece, is writing down all the things I want to eat on her notepad...and without even looking up at me, or skipping a beat, says,
"...and to drink?"

Lately, whenever Benjamin wants something to eat, he tells me his "tummy wants something to eat". Talk about a reminder that, while our little ones have active imaginations, their minds are also incredibly literal. If I ask him if he's hungry...he'll just say "Yeah, Mommy...I am...but my tummy is telling me."

The boy's in touch.
Love it.

Reasons why...

2008-07-22T13:54:00.001-07:00

Brian needs to be done working so I can leave the f***ing house and go to Yoga:

1. Benjamin (I think I've heard him say my name about TEN THOUSAND EFFING TIMES in the past five minutes)

2. Jonathan (he doesn't know how to walk yet...just how to run)

3. It's 5 o'clock*. 'Nuf said.

*on this particular day, we've made it to 5 o'clock without the tv on...once. I'm proud, of course, but know full well that it will be on once I leave (with Pardon the Interruption on ESPN, not Blue's Clues)

Reasons why...

2008-07-22T12:25:00.000-07:00

I seem to be 5lbs over my ideal weight:

*summer get-togethers with food

*summer get-togethers with drinks

*white chocolate mochas at 'Bucks--seriously? could I make a more unhealthy choice?
(and why I've chosen to take up drinking these now...this time of year...I've no clue)

*vodka and lemonade
(um, like more often than once a week)

*the ice cream man
(I never buy anything for myself...just kinda felt like it fit here)

*fewer spin classes on the summer schedule at The MAC (weak excuse, weak...)

*Bachelorette Mondays at Allie's (with BW3 wings)--thank God this ritual has ended!

*pina coladas (randomly I'm into the Friday's pre-made that you put in the blender with ice)

*increased highway travel (translation: fast food)

I'm sure there are more reasons...and even more ways I could be doing something about it. But ohh....welll. I'm comin to Jesus with the extra fluff. Of course, I'm vowing to myself to have it off by my August Seattle trip. Why this is a goal, I'm not sure...but I've gotta have one that's not too far off.

And now, for the last list.

Reasons why I'm only 5, and not 10, lbs over my idea weight:

1. Jonathan.

2. Jonathan.

3. Jonathan.

Following the Leader...

2008-07-21T10:14:00.001-07:00

Since the day he was born, I've done my best to let Benjamin lead the way...and gratefully, when I forget to do so, he reminds me. The upshot is that, by now, he has developed a pretty strong sense of independence and self-confidence. And today was no exception.

I brought the boys to East Hills (sister athletic club to The MAC) so I could take a specific class, which meant they would be using the playroom there for the first time. Long story short (you're welcome, Shawn Bergsma), they did great. Jonathan was clingy when I was signing him in and getting his things settled, but apparently did great once I left. Benjamin, on the other hand, was the one I was most nervous about.

It was a year ago that we first went to Ms. Margaret's class--where I was with him the whole time--and he was still a bit apprehensive about the new setting. But today? While I was still getting Jonny checked in, Benjamin starts to walk away from me and looks back and waves, saying "Bye, Mommy!".

I was stunned.

And incredibly proud.

Totally new place, new people, new kids...and off he went. See ya, Mom.

This weekend we took the boys to open gym at Gymco, and off he went...galloping down the long tramp and hurling himself onto the mat. Saying hi to random kids and even helping his younger brother put his Crocs in a cubby before we went in to play.

And sidenote? When we had to wait a few minutes for open gym to start, Benjamin says, in a hysterically understanding tone..."Sometimes we have to wait, Jonny..."

PLG.

Insisted on ordering his own cone yesterday at The J.J.

Loves my company when working his puzzles, but rarely lets me assist with the process. The first time we bust open a new one, it's fair game. But once he's seen it through to the finish, he insists on doing it himself from that point forward.

Goes to bed completely on his own.

(unless he's overtired...and then it's all about the dramatics.)

But potty training?

Whoa nelly.

I've learned that, like everything else in his life, there is a learning curve. And he will be the one to decide just where he fits on it...relative to the task at hand.

It's so easy, as a parent, to see your child a certain way...and thus expect them to be that way with all things. And I'm not saying--by ANY stretch--that I thought this would be easy.

I just figured he was "ready"...so it wouldn't be too difficult.

And the crux of it is, there's a good chance he could have been pooping like a pro by now, had I not talked about it so freakin much.

Point is, amidst all of our positive cheerleading, chart-making and reward-promising...the little dude choked at game time.

As of now, he's a peeing "pro". Even asks to pee when we're out in public and has little to no fear at all of random, public bathrooms. Asks to pee at The MAC...and did so this morning at East Hills. Without me. On his own. Made me proud.

But the final frontier has yet to be mastered.

And you know what? I'm totally ok with it. It took a few serious meltdowns last week...and then, ultimately, a two day withholding binge on his part, for me to get smart.

I just woke up one morning and started to feel incredibly guilty for thinking that this was something I should have control over...after all, I've always wanted to empower B to understand how to do things...but to be able to make the decision when to do them all on his own.

Sometimes figuring out how isn't easy, and requires a bit of intervention...like with sleep, learning to try new foods, stay in new places, trust new people...but once he's gotten the hang of it with these kinds of things, he's been golden.

I guess that's why I wanted so badly to just force him into seeing how easy it is to do the big dance on the potty.

And that's where I was wrong.

It was a healthy amount of self-checking on my part...and an unbelievably timely visit from a friend (*wink* to you here, S.D.)...that set me straight.

I have since positioned a toy that his Aunt Dawn bought him for his birthday (which I gratefully saved for a rainy day, Dawn...can't blame me!) above the kitchen sink, where he stares at it day in and day out during his meal and snack time. He knows that when he poops, he gets the toy. Yesterday I actually got the toy down so he could inspect it...and his eyes were like the wheels on a semi.

When I put the toy back, saying "And when you poopy on the potty, you get to open it...and it's all yours!!!"...he got that happy/manic face he's famous for, started jumping and clapping...and actually asked to sit on the potty.

Nothing happened.

But he asked.

And the best part is...he was the one who went galloping off for the bathroom, throwing the door open and hurling the potty donut (that's what I call the kiddy-seat you put on top of the big people seat) onto the toilet.

I just followed him.:)

Emotional Detox

2008-07-15T17:27:00.000-07:00

I need this.

For the past several weeks I've been suffering from a serious state of emotional overload. Mostly good--in fact, mostly great--but for any of you who know me, really know me...you may not be surprised by my "shutting down".
I need a break.

Not from fun, or from family, or from friends...but rather just from the emotional highs that come with lots of plans and excitement...and the emotional/mental fallout that inevitably follows.

I mean, for Pete's sake--I can't even seem to keep up with my blog! And every time I go to post some pictures, it seems I'm 3 or 4 "fun times" behind on my posting.
Sheesh.
You'd think there weren't any bigger problems in our world.

And the truth is, really, I'm happy.
Totally happy.
Content, in love with my family and our life here on Santa Cruz.
Grateful for our friends and family, and all the ways they color our life.

I guess when it comes to my blog, I've had some frustrations with myself in the past month. There are a multitude of thoughts, ideas, bits of randomness that whirl about in my head every day...and yet, when I find the time to sit down, I feel like a 3 year old.
Bursting with enthusiasm and so many things to say in one moment...but falling short, somehow, of delivering the entire message. And feeling incredibly frustrated for it.
But maybe that's just my 3 year old.

You know, it's almost as though there's a direct link between who I was as a teacher, and who I am as a mom. Perhaps this is because teaching is one of those careers that truly harnesses your real nature, personality, wit and instinct.
As a teacher, I was (or am...I plan on going back, bitches) the fun, always willing to laugh before delivering the punishment, the one actually having fun and clapping for the kids at assemblies, the one who turned off the lights when we read suspense stories aloud (with flashlights, too!)...and was also the one who felt absolutely zero need for pretense. My 6th graders once asked me if I was "popular" in junior high...and I told them the ugly (pun most definitely intended here) truth...and to really drive the point home, I dug up my 7th grade school picture (Annie hair-do and all) the next time I visited Grand Rapids. I then brought the picture back to work with me, and hung it on the blackbaord so they'd believe me.
I don't think it was that difficult to believe that I was unpopular...I just think they were a bit shocked that I was so honest about it.

So, yes. Open-minded and open-hearted.
But holy shit, I had my "buttons".
And most of them stemmed from my serious state of OCD.

I made my students walk in straight lines everywhere we went in the building...and while I receieved compliments from the art, music, computer and gym teachers...I would put money on some of the other teachers thinking I had a serious stick up my ass.
Which I didn't, per se.
I just felt very strongly about the way my students represented our class to the rest of the school...and that they behave with respect.

Ok, I had a stick up my ass.

But where was I going with this?

Ok, yes. The link to parenting.
I'm totally a fun mom. I'm confident in this.
But sometimes I think I get a little "white-knuckled" over certain issues.
Like...potty training.
I know I need to be patient. And while a few of you might, as you're reading this, be remembering my take no prisoners resolve on this subject from earlier in the day...please know that I still carry the torch of optimism.
I'm just emotionally drained this evening...and feeling a bit weak.

As of tonight, Benjamin has three stickers on his "chart" for peeing...and zero (count 'em--zero) for poop. At the beginning of the day, the mere mention of pooping on the potty sent him into hysterical bouts of panicky crying...but by the end of the day, as we were gearing up for bed, I actually got him to just "sit" and read for a bit on the pot.
Nothing happened, but he smiled at looked real proud when I told him how proud I was of him for even trying.
I guess I have to hope that this means we're making progress...but holy shit (pardon the expression), folks...it was all I could do after lunch today (um, hello? buttery grilled cheese, applesauce and apple juice???) not to tie him down to the potty and do a "go poopy, go!" routine.

I get so hellbent on seeing a challenge through...and often get overly frustrated as a result. Here's my M.O.:
1. Set challenge
2. Consider demeanor/personality of my dude
3. Review options/do research/what-have-you
4. Come up with best-suited plan
5. Watch how my little dude gets smart and turns the tables on me
6. Spend a few minutes, hours, days fretting over whether he's truly ready for said challenge or I'm just being a p***y
7. Decide I'm being the later of the two, and move forward with plan that is unrealistic in expectations for Benjamin, but aptly meets my level of frustration for not accomplishing task.
8. Feel quilty for being a dickhead mom.
9. Also feel kinda glad I'm aware of being a dickhead mom.
10. Evaluate...and repeat nonsense.

11. Continue to overthink things.

One might gather from this rant that I have zero instinct when it comes to parenting.
But that's really not the case.
I think my biggest problem is that I just don't always follow it immediately. But I'm learning. In fact, it's odd that I'm purging myself of this all now, since I feel like this "lunatic" version of myself is really a thing of the past. Over the past year or so I've made several decisions for my boys--some big, some small--that have reflected this growth in certitude and confidence.
And I think that's why I'm flailing NOW.
Because potty training is totally kicking it all to the curb.
I'm a wreck.
Total loon...completely unsure if I'm doing the right thing. Knowing full well that Benjamin's ready, but not wanting to push him. Knowing how sensitive this child is, but not wanting to enable that sensitivity to an unhealthy end.
All the while, picturing him showing up at preschool with a Diego pull-up on.

The ironic thing is, I'm not a competitive parent.
If I'm competitve at all, it's with myself.
If I had my way, I'd let Benjamin decide when he's ready to poop like a big dude...not when his preschool tells us he needs to.
But I'm also a creature of conformity...and so here I sit.

Waiting.

For poop.

O.P.T.

2008-07-15T08:00:00.000-07:00

Operation Potty Training in full effect in our house today...wish us luck!

We have big boy pants.
We have wipes at the ready.
We have extra pairs of shorts handy.
We have M and Ms.
And BEST of all...we have a POSITIVE attitude!!!

So far Benjamin's peed (though this isn't a new thing) on the potty...and is pretty excited about himself for it, as I made the world's biggest deal out of it.:)
And Ms. Katie (neighbor) has promised a treat at her house "for big boys who go poop on the potty" when he accomplishes that next major feat!

So adorable.
I know the most difficult, and *messy* part, is yet to come...but for some reason this is all very exciting.

Some day soon I'll update with more exciting stuff, like pics and stories from our last couple of weeks!

Family Bliss Continues...

2008-07-01T18:33:00.000-07:00

There really aren't that many places a family can travel, with kids, that provide equal amounts of relaxation, fun and general smooth-sailing. We count very few places on our short list of such locations...and are proud to say that the Hankins house ranks right up there. Holy cow, we had fun, every last one of us.

Chris and Ann really outdid themselves with the prep...first off, that's one big house with one even bigger yard...so we know the prep-time was ample. And we also get how difficult that can be with kids! Friday night's meal was outstanding--filet and red wine? In the words of Adam Sandler..."not too shabbayy".

The pool was oodles of fun with the kids, and I dare say the highlights for me did not include my own children's antics, but rather those of my brother and my hilarious niece, Addie. To save you all the suspense, Christopher has the same unbridled enthusiasm and prowess over the diving board as he did as a child...and Addie...well, she's just Addie. Turns out the little sista's come up with her own "move"...she calls it the "spinning wheel". You had to be there, and you really have to know Addie. I was dying.

Saturday evening, as shown in pictures, was a true riot. Great Mexican food...drink...darts...and overall hilarity. And as always, lots of pictures. The babysitters did a great job, and all of the kids fared well and got to sleep without a hitch. Love that.

It's just too bad that Aunt Meg was the one who never made it to bed properly. Sister had a serious neck cramp from sleeping on the couch. :)

Anyway...clearly the nuances of time with siblings, inlaws, and cousins are not lost on us. We appreciated all of the effort and planning involved...and just enjoyed being able to relax with our kids and watch them get to know their cousins better.

One of the things that stood out to us on this trip was the chance we had to appreciate their neighborhood more. The kids played outside a lot (including an impromptu hike through the woods...so cute!), enjoyed the riding toys on the long, steep driveway, and Brian and I got to see the house without snow. Such a great place! And a truly charming neighborhood...I should know, as I spent about an hour and a half exploring it on my own Saturday morning.

But that's an entry for another day.

In Sync...

2008-07-01T10:56:00.000-07:00

As usual, time with Denise and Paul flowed as easily as ever...and yet went by far too fast. We managed to spend some time in our old neighborhood of Ukranian Village/Wicker Park area and could NOT believe how much had changed.

But our old stand-bys remained...much to our relief. Driving up to our old apartment felt a bit strange...I was totally nostalgic and even sad on the one hand...and on the other completely relieved by the relative simplicity we have now.

Denise and Paul took us to the most amazing Mexican restaurant in Roscoe Village, where we had the best margaritas we could remember ever tasting. And that's saying something for us! The food was also great, but who could tell after that much tequila?

Sunday we spent time meadering about the city, visiting the lakeshore, eating sushi in between meals, playing pool and drinking beer in a seedy old Rush/Division bar, singing about "peaches" in the car at the top of our lungs and laughing hysterically (Denise, that was for you), and eating Chicago pizza.

Oh, and drinking wine with my SIL on her back porch and chatting long after the guys went to sleep. That was a favorite memory.

Talking about kids, what theirs will be like, and life in general over breakfast in Roscoe Village...complete with bloody marys and mimosas.

We drink a bit when we're together...case you hadn't picked up on that.

We never seem to run out of energy and enthusiasm for the next fun thing when we're with them...and we're grateful. If you're reading, D...love you to pieces. You and Paul bring out the best in us. Mmmmmwa!

In Pictures

2008-07-01T10:39:00.001-07:00

Our summer has already given us enough fun and memories to last us a long time...and yet there's more to come in the next few months.
In true Brian and Meg fashion, we're a bit stupified by the lack of free and lazy weekend time...but what we're gaining in memories with friends and family makes up for it and then some.
In these pictures: Benjamin being Benjamin, our old apartment in Chicago, one of our favorite old hangouts, and the two of us basically being the two of us.

Highlights thus far:
*neighborhood BBQs (Annabel's birthday was a fave) and hanging out on neighbors' porches with wine after kids go to bed
*our garage sale!
*walks in the new double jogger
*a short, but fun visit from Muma and Grandpa
*a very memorable weekend in Chicago--with Denise and Paul, our old neighborhood...and some time with my best sista Gaby. Oh, and a few of Brian's drunk co-workers thrown in.
*a bonanza weekend in Roscoe with the Hankins Clan!

Pictures to come on many of these...in the meantime, some less eventful things going on in our house include Benjamin potty-training (we're making progress finally), Jonathan talking up a storm and running faster and further away each day, gearing up to tackle the backyard (finally!), pool fun, losing $$$ to the ice cream man, and other such nonsense.
I've also been reading a lot more these days and am loving it...hoping to keep up the pace.

For now, I shall gather more pictures.

Hello, Blog...

2008-07-01T09:30:00.000-07:00

I've missed you.

Just too much going on these days to have time for you...I apologize.
But I promise to return later today with some fluff (pictures) that shall well document all of our misadventures and summertime fun.

Benjamin's watching the Potty Movie right now. Gotta put Jonathan down for his nap.

Important items on the agenda in our house today.

Thunder Road

2008-06-20T17:58:00.000-07:00

Hahaha...so cheesy.

This song has actually gotten quite a bit of playtime on all of the major media outlets the last week, with Tim Russert's passing. Needless to say, Brian and I were huge fans of his...uggh...why didn't I post about that last weekend?
Anyway, the song's been in the back of my head a lot lately, for obvious reasons.

But then I listened to it on my ipod yesterday while I was running...it's on my playlist, as it's always been one of my all-time favorite songs. And easily in my top 3 Springsteen songs.
An ex-boyfriend of mine, who shall remain nameless...though, I've only had a few...used to make fun of me for liking Bruce Springsteen.
And even though I wanted nothing more than to impress the socks off of this particular guy...I never gave in on this one. Rubbed his face in it, actually. Played it on jukeboxes in bars in Chicago...

Thunder Road is just one of the best songs of all time, and if you have an ipod, I suggest downloading it for your next workout.:)
Listening to it the other day, I was immediately reminded of the many times I would jam out to the song in my tiny room in my apartment on Orchard Ave (ironic) in Chicago...door closed, jumping up and down and dancing with my arms in the air...singing at the top of my lungs..."Whoa, oh...come take my hand...we're headin out tonight to case the promiseland..."

For some reason it also makes me think of all the fun, carefree times Brian and I had living in the city...the many nights hopping from bar to bar...playing pool...darts...going bowling...and always, walking home down Walton at the end of the evening.
And yes, many evenings would include me sitting on the front stoop swearing that I couldn't go inside until we walked up Western to the local McDonald's.
But I'm just saying.
Among the more memorable, though, were nights of laughs with friends over Rolling Rock beer at The Rainbow...where we'd spend more $$ on the photo booth for black and white photos of us than we would on our actual bar tab. Finding a strip of goofy pics in my purse the next morning was almost a regular occurrance.

Oh...I guess I'm a bit nostalgic.
Why, you ask?
Because we're going to Chicaggy tomorrow...just Brian and me...for the first time, staying in the city without kids.
I've been without him, he's been without me...but we haven't been together since longer than I can remember.
We'll be visiting Denise and Paul, and I couldn't be more excited. On the agenda is a visit to our old neighborhood...and Brian doesn't know this, but I'm planning on ringing the buzzer at 2335 W. Walton to see if we can go in and take a peek.
At the very least I'm going to sit on the front stoop for a bit.:)

Not that I'm sentimental.
Also on the agenda is a trip to the Diversey River Bowl...one of our most favorite haunts. If memory serves, they have Hacker Pschorr (dude, sp?) on tap. But then again, that was 6 years ago.:)

At any rate, I'm excited for a great weekend away...even though I'll miss my two little cherubs.
But...in the words of The Boss (somewhere there's an ex-boyfriend cringing right now)...

"Show a little faith, there's magic in the night...you aint no beauty, but hey you're allll-right....oh...but that's alright with me."

Um, not sure what that means.
But I love it.

"In Black and White"

2008-06-19T09:46:00.000-07:00

Let's see, how do I best describe this morning...

2008-06-18T10:14:00.000-07:00

scariest moment of my life? yup.
worst four minutes of my life? yup.
best hug from Jonny ever? definitely.

This morning, at the library, I lost Jonathan.
I didn't just lose sight of him for a few seconds, I actually lost him.
And if you are a mom, and this has ever happened to you...you know the to hell and back experience I've had today.
Nevermind that it didn't take place at the mall, an amusement park, or any such place of mass chaos.
EGR library on a Wednesday morning makes any of those places look like day care centers.
And at any rate, when you've lost your child, it doesn't matter where you are...it's just the worst, most dreadful, disorienting, bottom-falling-out feeling you could ever have.

So here's what happened:
I decide not to bring in the Maclaren this morning, since we're just going in and out for Storytime, and I know we won't be lingering too long...so no need to confine Jonathan. Plus, I had snacks in my purse.
We walk into the kid area, just outside Miss Trish's room, and the boys get busy playing...Benjamin at the kitchen/store area, and Jonathan at the magnetic board with letters...I'm basically at Jonny's heels the whole time, fully aware that Benjamin's basically fine on his own. I make a point out of watching him like a hawk, but sticking like glue to J...at least when Benjamin starts to jet somewhere else on his own, he always yells to me where he's going. My worry is always with J, because I've never seen a toddler move so fast. I know my friends (and mother in law) are reading this and nodding their heads in agreement.:)
I bend down to put the board books J has tossed all over the floor back into the bin, while he moves over to the dress up area. But when I look up (oh, maybe a fraction of a second later), I can't see him. I do a cursory glance around me, but still don't see him...so I locate Benjamin and ask him to stay put for a sec.
He looks up from his shopping cart, where he's arranging fake boxes of cereal and rice while donning a purple boa...and says, "Wha, Mommaaaayy?"
Yeah.
So I head off to look for J.
I see a friend--the library kind, where you don't know eachother's names, but you recognize one another's frazzled face, dirty ponytail and workout clothes. She (I now know her name is Ellen) asks if I'm missing my little guy, and as I say "yes", I then realize how nervous I am, because my voice scratches and my forehead begins to sweat. She offers to help me look for him...and as soon as I head out into the lower lobby area, by the elevators, I see him.
Reaching up for the elevator button, the door opening...and just as I get to him, he's stepping in and reaching for the inside controls of the elevator.
I snatch him and smother my face into his neck, breathing a HUGE, audible sigh of relief.

That was before I really lost him.

I walk back into the library and find B in the middle of a shopping transaction with a newfound pal, and tell him we're going to head over to the book area. Back behind the stacks, there's a little padded sitting area with pillows and small cushiony pieces of furniture the kids can climb all over....so I think this will be perfect for J.
When we get there, I see Ellen (my new friend, but mind you we're not on first name basis yet...that's to come) and she gives me a look of shared relief.
Still holding J, I say "Thanks so much...you wouldn't believe how fast this guy is."
She relates and starts telling me about her youngest daughter, meanwhile I put J down and watch him climb on the furniture. He steps between my legs and I do that classic reach back with one hand to feel their head behind you, while I keep talking...I look back and he's starting to pull books out of the shelf behind me.

This is when I say to her, "Here he goes...pulling out the books, his other favorite activity."
Friends? I think that statement, and the time I took with my eyes off of Jonny to say it....took...oh, maybe 2 SECONDS.
And I look back, no Jonny.
Shit.
"Here I go again!" I say, but with a laugh, because I know he can't be far in that miniscule amount of time...but when I look down the row of books, he's not there.
I look down another row, no Jonny.
I look further out and start scanning (nervously now) with my eyes...and don't see him. I start to walk kinda fast...and then faster...and everywhere I look, it's other kids. Other moms. Other hoodies, other jeans, other Crocs.

And then I move into that second or third phase of holy shit-ness and start to feel all tingly and lightheaded....but I'm practically running now. And Ellen is now helping me look (for the second time this morning), and our friend Heidi (Steph's neighbor), whom we had just ran into, is also helping us...and then, seeing my face, Miss Michelle joins in. And I summon a library worker, too...because after about two minutes, I'm scared as hell.
I don't want to go upstairs, for fear that he's downstairs...and I don't want to go down the hallways of offices outside the lower level kids' area, because I'm afraid that's when he'll appear by the elevators...I don't want to go anywhere, because all I want to do is freeze and watch for him.
And more than anything, I don't even want to think about him being outside...which, is entirely possible, because he knows how to open the doors.
Outside those doors are a busy street, strangers, a huge park, and--oh yes--a lake.

This may all seem melodramatic to you, friends. And in most cases, I'd readily admit to a little bit of the drama. I'm a bit notorious for it.
But none of this is exaggerated...I was scared beyond scared. My insides were burning and by the time I elicited help from the desk worker, I was in tears. When Miss Michelle asked me what was wrong, I could hardly talk...and when she asked me what he was wearing, I totally started to cry when I said "navy hoodie with white stripes, jeans, and bright green Crocs".
Every time I caught up with Heidi she had a desperate, apologetic look on her face when she asked me if I'd had any luck.

So after I combed the elevator area two more times and watched it open with a *ding*, empty, with no one in it....I started to run up the stairs...

Mind you, I did not once check on Benjamin this whole time. I think, by the grace of God, he just sensed I needed him to stay in one place, because when I went tearing through the area by the fish tank at one point, I saw him sitting on the "wave couch" pulling DVDs out of their cases.
That would for sure keep him happy.

So I run up the lobby stairs...and as I'm running up, leaving the kids' area, I start to feel, for the first time, truly hopeless. Because now I'm not even in the area where I lost him. I'm up in quiet-adult-land...which happens to be adjacent to the double glass doors leading out to freedom. I don't even want to think about the fact that he could have easily headed out the front door at this point. I practically throw myself through the front entrance to the upper level adult area (definitely channeling Lynette from Desperate Housewives at this point) and lock eyes with the first official looking person I see.
And she's sneering at me.
She says, over her glasses (but since this is a library story, let's say they were spectacles), "Are you looking for a toddler?"

.......Ohmygod....possible relief.

But not completely.
And P.S. Why is she looking at me that way?
Bitch.

"Yes!!!!" I say.

"Is he wearing green shoes?" she asks.

And I start to bawl.
Like a baby. She points down the open stairway inside the library area....and I go flying down the steps. She yells after me..."We found him up here, in the stacks, so I called Michelle up to get him..."
And even though I want to say "F you, lady, for even thinking about using that condescending tone with my freaked-out-scared-beyond-scared-ass right now!"....I manage to shout out a "Thank you!!!!!!"

That's when I land downstairs and see Miss Michelle walking towards me with a scared, red-faced and snot-nosed Jonny in her arms...and he practically jumps onto me when I reach my arms out.
And that's when I started crying so loud that people across the room in the computer area heard me. I know this, because when I was leaving the library later, one of them approached me and said she'd "been there before".
About a dozen random moms came up to me and offered the same kind of testimony and support...all the while, Miss Trish handing me kleenexes and hugging me, as I'm still hugging Jonny.
Benjamin is still, mind you, playing by the fish tank.

So, all was well.
I gathered myself best I could, and managed to get Benjamin and Jonathan both to sit with me for Miss Trish's class. And wouldn't you know, it was the first time they both actually danced and clapped together to the songs. And listened to the stories...and sat through it all.

This must have been God's way of giving me a chill pill.

By the time we left the library, I was reminded of the day I went into labor with Jonathan, right there in Panopolous Salon....all eyes, big like quarters, fixed on me as I left the building.

But I didn't care.
I was never so happy to have my boys in their carseats, buckled in...and on our way home for lunch.
On our way over there this morning, I'd been thinking in my mind about how stressed I am about our car, how it's so ready to be hit by the wrecking ball....and how we're going to deal with a car payment, etc.
But when I climbed in to our shitty-ass Explorer after this morning's harrowing experience, I was never so grateful to see it.
Or whatever.
You get the idea.
I'd still like to send it over the nearest cliff...but that's not really my point.

When I told the story to my mom over the phone later, she asked me, "What were you doing when he got away?"
And I answered, "Nothing. I was right with him...watching him. I turned my head for less than a second, right as I had my hand reached back, feeling the top of his head...and when I turned around, he was gone."

That's when she suggested we get him a leash.
And you know what?
I'm about to go Google one.

Alright already...

2008-06-17T10:14:00.000-07:00

For some reason unknown to me, I've been anti-blog lately.
Maybe it's because I've been too wrapped up in other things to have time for it, which has been true on some days. But I've also been really enjoying my book lately, so any random time I have where I'm not:
*chasing/playing with boys
*doing dishes
*dirtying dishes
*at the MAC
*outside
*doing laundry (which never gets put away...yikes...)
*watching The Bachelorette, ususally DVRed

...I'm reading The Kite Runner. No one will remember this, but I need to own up to the fact that I STARTED this book last summer. And like with most books, it wasn't the ridalin to my ADD in the first few pages, so it took some time to get into...in my case, a whole year.
Anyway, sometime a few months ago I started chipping away at it...a chapter here, a chapter there...and then, about a week ago, I got way involved. And I finished it last night.
WHAT an incredible story.
Leared so much that I never knew or even understood about Afghani culture...but on top of it all, it made me appreciate my life so much more than I already did.
After I finished it at midnight last night, I went upstairs and crawled into bed next to Benjamin...who barely moved...but when I hugged him and said, real quietly (I can't say "whispered" here because it just feels to creepy) "I love you, bud..."
He fidgeted the tiniest bit, and I kid you not---eyes closed, arms wrapped around his bunny and blanket...and hairline all sweaty (LOVE THAT)...he actually mumbled "I love you, too, Mommy".

Killed me.
There's a part in the story where the main character learns that his mother, who died during childbirth...once said, while pregnant with him that she was "profoundly happy"...because with so much happiness, surely something will be taken from her.
I don't like to admit to this kind of foreboding, but I swear...it's how I feel so often with my boys. It's as though there's so much love for them, it hurts to have it. I simply cannot stand how precious they are.
And I know most people feel this way about their kids, I really do...it's just my way of expressing it. I'm also acuteley aware of how ridiculously sentimental I am...I watch them crawl all over eachother in Benjamin's bed and giggle...and climb the toys at the park...and I feel like I want to freeze-frame this moment in time. They are such amazing little creatures.

I'm typing this, friends...and not two seconds ago, Benjamin calls to me from the family room, where he's **shocker** lining his cars up on the coffee table.
"Mommaayy!" (that's how he pronounces it, seriously)
"Yeah, bud?" I say, passively, as I type away...
"I gotta booger!"

Sweet.

Love this life, I swear.
Love it inside and out...and a thousand times over.

No excuses...

2008-06-10T17:56:00.000-07:00

I've been seriously delinquent with my blog the last week...but all for good cause.
And also for no good cause at all.
I think it just happens from time to time...

We had a great weekend with Dave and Kathy here Sat. and Sunday...enjoyed one of our best Friday evenings on Santa Cruz to date with Megan and Brian...had fun at Festival (I think this magically becomes more than just a white-trash-souvlaki-fest once you have kids...)...and even enjoyed Lucy C's spectacular bday extravaganza on Sunday.
Benjamin: "This is just the best party evvvverrr!"
He said this to me, to Sarah, anyone who would listen, really...and of course, to Lucy.

I'll upload some pics later, but for now I'm one crampy bitch.
Total period rage and I'm taking it out on my fridge.
Not good, friends...not good.

Where did summer go?

2008-06-02T13:37:00.000-07:00

This is what we usually say around late August....NOT early June.

But I'm sure many will appreciate where I'm coming from...my calendar.
We Richards are not socialites or jet-setters (ok, maybe we like a party...), but holy cannoli, Batman...our summer is cooked. The past few weekends have been sheer bliss, with trips to the park, "The J-J", endless BBQs with neighbors, moments (when Jonathan's asleep) where we actually sit on the front step and watch Benjamin play...usually with an Oberon.

And yesterday was no exception. It was just one of those perfect Sundays in the summer...for so many reasons. I think I'll skip the narrative here, because sometimes I'm afraid this blog reads like a brochure for "life in EGR"...on crack.
Anyway, after we finished watching our DVRed Meet the Press last night...yeah, we're losers...Brian and I started talking about what a great day it had been....and an even better weekend. And for posterity's sake, I will post some pics sometime real soon.
But we were all "wow, isn't summer great...even when we think we have nothing going on, so much fun seems to happen...blah, blah, blah...".
And then I broke out the calendar this morning, and it seems we have about 3 of these "nothing going on" weekends for the rest of the summer.

Fuckity-fuck.

And don't get me wrong...our reasons for being busy on the in-between are great, and we wouldn't trade the plans we have with friends and family for anything. We've just been drunk on our neighborhood the past few weekends, is all.:)

I guess this means we're going to just have to start thinking of our summer not in terms of weekends and the plans we have(which is so tempting, isn't it?)...but just in general. With our boys, our life, and of course...some Oberon.

Here's to Summer 2008!

Prozac Fridays

2008-05-30T10:30:00.000-07:00

While still in the working force, these were Payday Fridays. We had treats in the teacher's lounge for breakfast, were allowed to wear jeans (which, unfortunately, brought out more "Mom jeans" than anyone should have to see in their lifetime)...we got our paychecks (major yay!), and overall people were just in a good mood. It was Friday.

In my domestic life as a mom, Fridays are just as utopian. Especially the PAYDAY ones.
But here are my reasons why:
1. The relaxation on my diet begins
2. Brian usually gets off work a little early
3. Meijer!
4. The McLaughlin Group
5. Catching up on DVR over drinks with Brian
6. Not worrying about the craziness of the next day, as I know it's family time.
7. If we haven't already made plans with friends, etc...we usually start to by noon.
8. Jersey Junction and being able to partake (see #1)

Basically I just seem to always be in a good mood on Fridays. I'm especially grateful today, as well, because Brian's trip to San Francisco was cancelled, and he would've been leaving Sunday night.
Someday I'll blog about how sacred Sundays are to me.

It's been a good week, and I guess in the spirit of true Friday delirium and my insatiable love of lists...here are the things I'm most grateful for today:
1. Everything in the first list in this post
2. Benjamin feeling better
3. Rain for my flowers out front...and my weeds out back
4. Benjamin's awesome report from the nursery this morning
5. Fun time with new friends over Indian food last night
6. Finally feeling content about Benjamin's refusal to potty train...it'll come, I know
7. Our decision to join Orchard Hills Swim Club
8. The MAC--no matter how many other fabulous clubs, with great amenities and enticing offers, sprout up around Grand Rapids, this place will always be home to me.
9. My mom, and the unique balance of fun and discipline she's able to provide my boys...
10. My dad, and his love for trapping raccoons (if you're a member of PETA...just kiss my ass already. it's my blog.)

I'd like to elaborate on numbers 8 and 9.
I spend so much of my time at the MAC, and not a day goes by that I don't realize how much I'm grateful for it...Brian recently told me that whenever I leave for the MAC and I tell him how long I'll be, he always adds on about 45 minutes in his head, since I'm always running into someone and chatting. The social outlet is one of my favorite qualities of the club, but I think the history my family has there is just as much a part of my loyalty. And aside from the occasional debacle with Miss Sue, the nursery workers are some of the most understanding and nurturing women I know.
My mom. There are many reasons I'm grateful for her...that's more than just another blog entry. But when it comes to my boys, I'm reminded so often of how crucial her influence is in their lives. We ran into her at The MAC this morning (yet another reason we love it!) and she decided, last minute, to whisk Benjamin off for lunch at McDonald's, and topped it off with an impromptu trip to Toys R Us.
Talk about lucky kid.
But what I love more than anything, is that she can do things like this and still not be spoiling him. Somehow she manages to balance it with the right amount of discipline and perspective. There's a reason why B still freaks out over McD's...after the countless times she's taken him there. She makes it special without going overboard...and a trip to Toys R Us becomes a virtual trip to Disney. Benjamin practically hurls himself through the mudroom door when they return, SO excited about the generic, plastic ball he just got. I'm sure there will come a day when the toys will become more elaborate, and the simple ones will not as easily suffice...but for now, I'm just glad he's not blowing snot all over himself because he can't take home 5 Thomas trains.
What I'm most grateful for in this example, is the sense that he has when he's with my mom. He knows he's special and practically the most important thing to her at that very moment...but he also knows he has limits. Case in point, when he came home a few hours ago, after his bonanza of a morning with Nana...I was bracing myself for the inevitable "fun detox" that I'd have to put him through in order to get the nap to happen.
But when I told him it was time for his nap, he simply announced that "Nana said I could park two cars next to me when I go to sleep"...and with that, he lumbered off towards the stairs.
Thanks, Mom.:)
Thanks for not making me the bad guy...but for being a partner.
And get ready...Jonny's not going to be as easy...but you already knew that, right?

Anyway, I suppose that's enough hearts and flowers for today.

I promise there's some piss and vineger brewing below the surface...always is.
I'll see about sharing it sometime real soon.
You know, just to save my rep.

Same Time, Different Kid

2008-05-28T11:17:00.003-07:00

Jonathan is 20 months old.
It was approximately this age at which Benjamin was first showing interest in learning colors...at least that's what I remember. And that's not saying much, as I was still in the haze of sleep deprivation with Jonathan during those days.
But my point--is that I remember teaching Benjamin about colors all the time. In the car, in books, on TV...his food, clothing, etc. He was totally into it. And picked up on all of the colors really quick. Shapes, too...which still surprises me.

So, of course I expect the same thing with Jonathan.

Hold on sister, not so fast.

This is me, not ten minutes ago:
I had just come across our torn and tattered copy of Eric Carle's "My First Book of Colors" as I was putting things away in the mud room. I look over at Jonathan, who's wearing a bright yellow pretend construction hat on his head (sideways) and smashing his hands into playdough on the train table.
I make a quick mental note to show it to him as I finish straightening up...
Benjamin's asleep, so I take the perfect opportunity to bond with Jonny over colors.

I beckon him over to where I'm sitting, perched at the step into the kitchen...he lumbers over happily, hat still sideways, and reaches for the book. Takes one look at it (my eyes are bright and big as I announce it has "colors!" in it) and throws it at my face.
I'm not kidding.
And then, as I try and act like that hadn't just happened, and that his older brother's love for colors and shapes is just wanting to be pulled out by my relentless efforts....I give it another go. But this time he's not even listening, even as he stands right in front of me.
Instead, he's trying to chew off a fruit snack that's stuck to the front of his shirt...one hand with a pincer grip on the chew itself, the other on his hat, which is about to fall off.
You'd think there was an ice cream sundae attached to the fruit chew.

Anyway, I think the teaching portion of our afternoon has given way to a much less fruitful (no pun intended...no, seriously...) activity.

This very moment, as I type, the Shark dust buster is revving up in the other room.

You get the point.

Memorial Day Bummer

2008-05-25T06:12:00.000-07:00

Well, needless to say I didn't imagine I'd be bloggin from my kitchen on Santa Cruz today...thought we'd be in Roscoe, IL, eating Addie's bday cake, wiping hands from germs at Chuckee Cheese, taking pics of cousins having a ball together, and even enjoying a night out with my Chris and Ann. Brian and I were both looking forward to this---dare I say, even more than the boys. Without going into detail (ick, not blog-friendly), Benjamin came down with a case of third world nastiness. He's on the mend, and in perfectly happy spirits...so that's the more important thing.

Brian and I are, however, still crying in our Oberon.
Save the orange for us, guys, we're bringing a fresh sixer in a month.

These pics are a tribute to all that we were looking forward to...just put it on hold, k?

Love you, Hankins fam...and can't wait to make up for lost time.:)

Am I the only one who...

2008-05-21T10:20:00.000-07:00

*washes the laundry twice, if it's been sitting in the washer (without being switched over to the dryer) for more than 6 hours

*has OCD

*gets excited when the mail arrives...still...as an adult

*does not think Suri cruise is at all cute or adorable

*thinks the only thing fun about camping is the beer around the campfire...the rest is just too much work, and far too dirty

*has gotten bored with American Idol (can't remember when I last watched it)

*loves the sound of the dishwasher

*feels my wee ones' ears and hands at night to see if they're cold (before I go to bed)

*loves a naked baby...or toddler

*doesn't like the smell of playdough

*hates Charmin toilet paper (stuff crumbles...have you noticed this?)

*laughs at my own farts when alone

*just laughed outloud at the last bullet point (p.s. I'm still giggling)

*thinks listing in blogs is sometimes more interesting

*doesn't mind Chris Matthews

*loves PBS more now than when I was a kid (Sesame Street's got nuthin on The McLaughlin Group)

*thinks suntan lotion/spray is too expensive

*insists that restaurants (particularly fast-food/drive-thru types) put extra ice in my sodas

*asks for my Starbucks drinks extra hot

*will admit to actually throwing a penny out (at the car wash...and it was dirty as F)

*has a hard time knowing when to wrap up mindless lists...

Happy Wednesday, friends.

"All better"

2008-05-20T04:46:00.000-07:00

A favorite, commonly used phrase in this house. Benjamin's way of making things right in his head..."closure" for a three year old. He seems to need this with everything...one of the many things I adore about him and his highly sensitive self.

When I was getting ready to leave last Friday for Lake Geneva and my Aunt Renee's funeral, I wasn't sure how to explain where I was going. I wasn't even going to broach the whole "death" thing, but wanted to somehow explain where I was going, and why. So I told him that I needed to go give Uncle Jim (my uncle, Renee's husband) a big hug and kiss...because he wasn't feeling well.

This resonated immediately with the little guy. Nothing raises concern more quickly with Benjamin than the thought of someone or something else being sad, or needing comfort.

"You're going to give Uncle Jim a hug, Mommy? And then he'll feel all better?" he said, as I knelt down in front of him before walking out the door.

"Yes, Bud...and then, when he's all better, I'm going to come home!" I said.

"Oh, that will be good, Mommy...and Uncle Jim will not be sad anymore, and Mommy will feel allll happy. And Benjamin will be happy, too."

PLG.

So yes, I feel alll happy from my trip to Lake Geneva last weekend. Can't say that Uncle Jim is "not sad anymore"...I rather expect it will take a long time before he feels at total peace with the loss. But he does seem to be surrounded by wonderful friends, and of course, family. So time will tell the story there...

On the positive side, last weekend was--as it goes with funerals and weddings--a wonderful chance to reconnect with family. Though, I dare say my favorite moments and bits of quality time were spent primarily with folks I see on a lot more of a regular basis--Chris and Ann.
What fun times. Hilarious, ridiculous...and at times out of hand. But for what it's worth (and my hangover Sunday morning was quite a high price to pay...though no fault but my own), having time away from our kids and able to connect is hard to come by.
I loved it.

As of this morning, I finally feel myself again.
Yes, all better.
Drunken pictures to come...

Brian's in Chicago--left last night, and will be home tomorrow evening.
A crappy turnaround after my being gone...I feel like we hardly saw eachother. And yesterday was his birthday.
PLG.
We're celebrating this Thursday night with dinner out...and then attending East's graduation. So we'll continue our celebration at Friday night I imagine, too.
And then we're off to Chris and Ann's this weekend. Can't wait.

Today and yesterday have been the best...reuniting with my boys. As much as I love being away, there comes a point when I start to feel a huge void in my gut...and being with them totally puts me back on track.

Here are a few faves from the past 48hours:

*Seconds after I throw myself on my back onto the couch after getting home Sunday night...totally worn out and hungover...both boys are crawling on me and giggling. They take turns standing at my waist and doing belly flops onto my tummy. Then one jumps down onto the ground while the other one positions himself for the drop...and crawls back up at my feet, huge, butt-happy smiles on their faces. Benjamin actually knocks heads with me a few times, but it's all good...and we're each in total fits of laughter.

*Jonathan throwing his arms up at Brian when he walks into the room, and proclaiming "Dadd-eee! Dadd-eee!!!"

*Bright Beginnings Monday morning---Benjamin jumps to his feet in the middle of the pack of kids, right smack-dab in the middle of Ms. JoAnn's reading of a story (about seasons)...and announces the following:
"Hey, hey, hey...you know what? Yesterday the snow was all in my face, and it was cold...and it made Jonny laugh. Huh, huh...yeah...and that was so verrry funny."
PLG that all the moms and kids (and Ms. JoAnn, of course) all stared at Benjamin with rapt attention during this announcement. And when he was done, he just sat back down and resumed eating goldfish out of his dixie cup...prompting them all to look at me, on the other side of the room, where I was pulling Jonny out of a sandbox.
"Um, yeah...it was totally snowing yesterday, didn't you know that?" I say. A few moms laugh, Ms. JoAnn just flashes a vacant smile and continues reading.

Seriously? Sometimes I'm not totally sure she's there. Not a whole lot of "affect" goin on...but I digress.

*Benjamin doing SO well in the nursery yesterday morning at The MAC. When I get the happy report, he says: "Hey laydeez...do you know what? I get a DOT!"
(ask me sometime about our new behavior mod. plan...it's actually working, folks)

*Getting Jonny out of his crib this morning and marveling at how he immediately goes into Tazmanian Devil mode and hurls himself out into the hallway, shouting "bush teef! bush teef!" (imagine "brush" without the "r"...adorable)

*Borrowing Sarah's double jogger (ours is in the mail and will be here any day!!!) and cruising around the lake this morning...heaven.

That's about all for now...looking forward to Yoga tonight, and relaxing at home.

Change We Can Believe In

2008-05-15T08:29:00.000-07:00

First off, a few thanks to the following:

*Sarah, for scoring a parking pass from her new neighbor, and for the ride.
*The Bergsmas, for saving us seats in Van Andel--you guys rock!
*Brian, for keeping things going on the homefront so I could go.
*Elliot Bergsma, for being the first kid I've ever seen NOT to have a total meltdown in a restaurant...when the food didn't arrive until after 8pm.

So obviously it was a once in a lifetime, well-worth-the-effort experience for all! We arrived at the doors of Van Andel in good time, with only a five minute wait (at best) to get in...during which we enjoyed taking in the hub-ub and mayhem, etc. Once inside, we called Shawn on his cell and made our way to their section, where (as mentioned) they were holding seats for us. Was awesome. Just walking down the stairs to our seats, and seing the stage set up...the podium...and the "Obama '08" sign all lit up on the scoreboard, it was energizing. That, and they were playing U2. Gotta love that. I don't care what your political leanings are, when you're in a crowd like that, with such enthusiasm and anticipation, the goosebumps are inevitable.

We sat down, and right away I got a call from Brian on my cell saying that all the major news pundits were spreading word that Edwards was rumored to be there...and that he was going to endorse Obama during his speech.
Totally exciting...because we would get to see him, but also because it was such a pivotal point in the campaign. The endorsement has been inevitable according to many, but the timing (if you follow recent politics) was clearly deliberate.
And I'll avoid going any further into that discussion. Because by now, Gaby, you're already yelling at me in Romanian for even going to the damn thing. :)

So Obama gets introduced by a local PLG high school student, and then the "Beautiful Day" by U2 starts in, SUPER loud and with lots of bass (sounds cheesey, but if you'd been there you would've been so pumped)...and onto the stage bursts the man himself, with a confident stride/hop up onto the platform.
He greeted the crowd and pretty much dove right into an introduction of John Edwards...who was equally inspiring when he graced the stage.
His speech was particularly exciting, as it included his official endorsement of Obama for the presidential nominee...and Barack's speech, though obviously a "stump" speech, was equally exciting. Even though we couldn't see the whites of his eyes, it was just so incredible to be looking at him standing there, and hearing his voice...which is just as commanding and powerful in person.

Overall, an incredible performance for both politicians. And at the very end, when Barack was getting ready to leave the stage and doing the required, enthusiastic wave in all directions...when he looked in our direction, I felt like I got a real look at him for the first time that evening--square on--and it gave me goosebumps.

Afterward, a bit of hilarity ensued.
We left the arena and managed to stay together amidst the masses, mostly thanks to Shawn Bergsma's ever-visible head bobbin above the crowd.
And then, much like people do at Disney World, we flocked to an area where people were gathering in some sort of line/mob, with no indication whatsoever as to what we were "waiting for". But it soon became clear that Obama was possibly going to make an appearance at that particular spot. There was a small platform set up, just outside a few private access doors to the arena, and there were secret service and policeman standing by. We had a MONEY spot, right up against the metal railing where he would have come out...and had he made an appearance, he would've been close enough for a handshake, even an autograph.
But after waiting for almost 45 minutes, we were given word that he wasn't coming...that he had planned on making an appearance, but at the last minute decided against it.

So off to The Black Rose we went for food/drink/post-rally-recap.

Now, because I know I would be remiss if I didn't mention the following, I have to tell the ultimate PLG story of the night. Sarah, you know right where I'm headed.:)
We're sitting in our seats, listening to Edwards talk about poverty in America...the price of gasoline...etc. And you hear the usual "right on!", "no kidding!", "yes!" and "tell it, brotha!" types of comments with every example of injustice he mentions.
Sarah's on my left, and my mom's on my right.
My mom's busy texting someone (as usual), so in my periphery I have a good view of the two women sitting next to her. They're a bit on the, how shall I say......somewhat downtrodden and "ready for change"side. Many of their shout-outs are along the lines of "mmm-hmm...that's right...bout time!" They're totally psyched to be there, but even when people stand up, shift and fidget about in their seats with enthusiasm, and pump fists in the air...these two ladies remain calm in their seats, sitting back, with their arms folded casually over the jackets in their laps.
It's as though they're in their own living room watching the whole thing on tv.

So when Edwards says, at the end of a long list of things that are too expensive in our current economical climate..."and the price of meat!", the lady just to my mom's right says, in a totally conversational tone--- "I can't even afford to buy no red meat."

I'm watching Edwards and generally following his speech, but when I hear this, my eyes are like saucers and I get this huge grin on my face...and immediately pinch Sarah to share the little nugget.
We agree that it is brilliant, and undoubtedly the PLG quote of the night.

What an amazing evening on all fronts.

Rock on, Obama...rock on.

Keeping perspective

2008-05-14T05:07:00.000-07:00

It's what I am grateful for, each and every day. Some days it's easier to find than others, and yesterday was no exception. For once I shall spare my readers the narrative of all that drove me INSANE yesterday. I plan to commit those details to Momm-ory (a place where shitty memories of mommyhood are stored).

Rather, I just want to express my thanks to the following that got me through my day:

1. My coffeepot--you never disappoint.

2. The weather--outstanding.

3. My street--for Katie, her perspective, her coffee (second cup) and yesterday...her bathroom.

4. The trail by our house--you, too, shall never disappoint.

5. My new washer and dryer

6. Yoga class

7. Shopping at The Green Life--new store right next to From the Heart (yoga center)

8. Impromptu girl time with Sarah, and only having to stop home long enough to get vodka

9. Sarah's sofa chair

10. Time with Brian when I got home...I know my mother in law reads this, so I shall stop there!

Obviously there are plenty of outlets at my disposal to cleanse myself of the ucky days.

I'm grateful for that.

And on a random side note?

Totally excited about seeing Obama tonight!!!

"The Couple's Crush"

2008-05-12T05:01:00.000-07:00

To date, we've only had two of these.

And it shall likely come as no surprise that the first major crush of Brian's and mine was for Mark and Dina. A couple with whom you and your hubby get along with so famously, that no matter the setting or context, you're sure to make memories just by being together.

Well, Brian and I certainly never thought we'd be lucky enough to have such a phenoemenon (seriously, SO not confident of the spelling on that one) happen to us twice in our lifetime. But I can safely say that we are 100%, head over heels in love with time spent with Paul and Denise. Each visit gets better, and it doesn't matter who's talking with whom, who's drinking wine and gabbing with whom, who's playing "Horse" with a kid-size basketball and equally kid-sized hoop at midnight in the backyard, or who's feverishly (though ever-so respectfully) debating Hillary vs. Barack over dinner, or who's sharing deeper talks about life in general...we all gain something from one another's company.

It's sheer magic.

And we're so grateful.

We love you Paul and Nee-see...this post today, and these glamorous pics, are for you.

P.S. The Green Well called. We're not allowed back anytime soon.

Allergies...

2008-05-08T09:40:00.000-07:00

are killing me these days.
and Benjamin, too. Poor little dude has red eyelids and under eye patches from rubbing them so much...and the anti-itch eyedrops the ped gave me...yeah, well...you can imagine how well those go over in this house.

I suppose when you have nothing else of great value to blog about, this is what happens. But honestly I was getting kinda tired of looking at Shawn Bergsma's fly on his jeans...so an update was necessary.:)

It's been a good week, great weather overall, and the boys and I are finally starting to return to normal after quite a whirlwind weekend. Seriously, I just can't party like I used to. And not for lack of trying, either, my friends. I give it my best effort each time, but continue to be reminded the next morning of how accommodating my life is not of these late nights.

Dave, Kathy, Denise and Paul are coming into town this weekend, and we're all pretty excited. Benjamin can't stop talking about "Neesee-Paul!!!"...and will surely be worn out come Sunday afternoon from all of the Paul-playtime. They are truly a pair together.
Looking forward to seeing them as a married couple...and hearing about Hawaii, though we'll secretly be jealous as hell. Who wouldn't be?
It's supposed to be nice out on Saturday, and I'm praying for good weather. For my buddies who are running the 5/3 run, but also for whatever we decide to plan here at home.

Off to put B down for his nap, then do some laundry...and eat some lunch. Just realized I haven't done that yet.
Maybe it's the extra large bowl of vanilla ice cream I wolfed down last night (PLG) that's still sitting in my tummy.
Bad, bad girl...bad girl.

Well, Shawn, you made it.

2008-05-06T09:12:00.000-07:00

Congratulations...you've made the blog.:)

Now is this really how you want to be represented in cyberspace?

Fun times this weekend, my friend...fun times. You can come back to our house and hold court any time.

Oh...the fun.

2008-05-05T10:38:00.000-07:00

What a weekend! We are still recovering from it all...and just trying to absorb the many different kinds of fun that have been had. If we didn't love our neighbors and friends before, we surely do now.
The highlights:
*BBQ with friends here Friday night...mostly watching Annabel and Benjamin cement their love affair until the late, late hour of 10pm.
*shopping at Pooh's Corner with Benjamin Saturday afternoon (just the two of us)
*wine/cheese tasting at Megan and Brian's (yes, those are their names...and we PLG love them more each time we hang out)
*Cinco de Mayo party at Fuller's (we were double party Johnsons, right Sarah?)
*Riedan McIntosh's carnival-style bday party Sunday afternoon
*sentimental "last youth group" cookout Sunday night
*watching my boys freeeaaak out when my parents showed up to babysit Sunday night...and giving Jonathan a bath in the kitchen sink last night while Benjamin and Brian played bball out back
*sleeping like a baby last night.:)

Breathe, Meg.

2008-05-01T06:00:00.000-07:00

It's 9am, and I'm ready to commit "Harry Carrey", as my friend Dawn would say.

What many moms of two kids so close together (and same gender) might understand, as intimately as I do, is that MOST of your time at home is spent keeping them separated...so as to avoid total bedlam in the house.
It's insane.
And it's so blessed exhausting.
You get one child happy (Benjamin, in this case) with an array of car stickers, glue sticks, cut out numbers and letters...and plenty of other medium. You set it up on the kitchen island so the younger one can't get to it.
But then the younger one wants nothing else than to get to the magic happening on the island.
So, screaming and crying child on your hip, you get desperate (because older child is having so much fun with his crafts, and you don't want to spoil it) and go retrieve a new garage sale toy out of the mudroom cupboard. It's a boring, wooden stove that sits on the ground...and is about as big as a small suitcase. It's not very special, but has wooden knobs that turn--and this is sure to delight your youngest child.
He's in heaven, and so are you...for about ten seconds, when older child realizes that younger one has this toy, and MUST play with it, too.

I don't need to go on...mostly because anyone who's been in this situation totally understands what's to unfold after that. But also because I don't have time.
It's enough that I've even been able to blog.
I whisked Benjamin up to his room (after much screaming, tantrum-throwing, step-sitting, and other blood-letting) to play at his car table.
He's happy, and Jonny's wandering around playing by himself.

I've downed one cup of coffee and consider this an accomplishment.

Bring on preschool.
Bring it.

Sidewalks

2008-04-30T17:53:00.000-07:00

I remember when we were house hunting, a few years ago, and my father in law gave me a hard time for glorifying the "sidewalks" in EGR.
But he's not from here, so he doesn't understand.
Sidewalks exist everywhere...but for some reason, they're special here. At least I appreciate what they offer me in my life, mostly since we made the move to Santa Cruz. Let me illustrate, if I may, as it seems so many of my simplest of pleasures these days involve them.

Yesterday, when the 4pm case of delirium set in, I was able to "stroller it" up to Starbucks...and Jonny even got to get out a few times to inspect some sidewalk chalk art. It was even better once I had my coffee in hand.

Watching Lily McIntosh learn to ride her two-wheeler tonight, all four of us adults going apeshit over each pedal stroke.

Sitting cross-legged on ours while watching my boys run around the front yard, and up and down the driveway.

Teaching Benjamin to play hopscotch on them.

Walking them to a neighbor friends' house...especially tonight, as Brian and I were both in need of a drink, and Matt and Katie came walking down their front drive with Stellas in hand, as though anticipating our arrival.

The fact that I can take ours to so many fabulous places...the lake...the library...the Bucks...the park...Ms Joaaaannnnnn's (that's how we pronounce her name)...even Allie's house.

Also, the PLG fact that I can accidentally leave our McClaren stroller out on ours overnight, and it's still there the next morning.:) (Brian, if you're reading this, it only happened once, I swear...)

At the end of the day, it's just a personal thing, I guess. Something that I place value on, mostly because I grew up with them. And whenever I think about that huge, spacious house we were looking at out in Forest Hills....I think about the sidewalks we'd be missing, and all the places we'd be missing out on walking to as a result.
Brian and I were walking home tonight with the boys, Jonny screaming because his diaper was beyond dirty and so was his face...and he'd fallen on their driveway twice....and Benjamin, "driving" his cozy coupe car, at a snail's pace...but Brian and I were just laughing the whole way home.
Mostly because it was a short walk.
Even more likely because we were both a little buzzed.

Anyway, I love you Dave Richards...and even though I know there's no way in hell you're reading this, I need to tell you that I was right about this one.

They do matter.:)
At least to me.

B.L.O.G. stands for...

2008-04-29T17:25:00.000-07:00

Bragging
Like
Others might
Give-a-good-god-damn

Pardon my candor.
But sometimes I fear that this is what I sound like, especially when detailing my kids' latest moments of precious endearment or hilarity.
But here I go, anyway.

Benjamin is just so unbelievably enthusiastic. I mean bursting with unbridled enthusiasm and positivity. Granted, not all the time...but I tell you, when he's happy to be somewhere, or with someone, it's impossible for him to hide how he's feeling.
The following most recent of examples are just a few I'd like to share.

So, if you feel like skipping this post, as you're not in the mood for reading about how amazing someone else's kid is...I'll say this to you: Feel no remorse.
You're disinterest is compeltely justifiable...and I get it.

But here are my latest faves, anyway.

*Jumps to his feet during a recognizable Laptime song: "Haha...Miss Trish! Look! I'm dancing! This is so fun!"
(lots of deadpan faces on other parents...a few awkward looking kids trying to find the beat...and a few nods of support from other moms--thank God)

*walking into Miss Margaret's class last week, after being gone for a few weeks, announces: "Miss Margaret, whatcha doin? Are we gonna paint today? I'm just so happy to see you...Wow! Look at all the kids!"
(notices, while making his grand entrance, that there are about 4 to 5 new faces, and very unenthusiastic parents accompanying them--this last detail was only noticed by me, but was noteworthy, I felt...kinda bummed me out...at any rate, his enthusiasm is undaunted by the new faces, and I couldn't have been more proud in noticing)

*tonight, as I was helping him color in his Lightning McQueen coloring book...he abruptly got to his feet, and threw his hands to his mouth, and uttered "Oh...my...gosh! This is just so beautiful!" (my eyes were like saucers...and I hardly knew how to respond...just loved that moment)

*says to Annabel, while playing in her backyard last Friday night, and discovering her array of sweet toys--"Annabel, are these your favorite toys? I just love them!"
(and you gotta love Annabel, who responded with "oh yeah, they're pretty great"...the two of them are the exact same age...it's great hearing them have conversations)

*Annabel's mom and dad told Brian and me, last Saturday morning, that after we left their house Friday night Annabel sat on the front porch, chin resting in her hands, and said..."you know...this was fun...having everyone over....". We laughed so hard and just marveled at how adorable it was...and when I later told Benjamin that Annabel had been so happy he'd come over the night before, he said, "Well, Mommy...it was fun. And I just really love Annabel."
(I see prom date in the future. Or partner in unapproved activity...they're behind us and a few houses up...dangerous.)

*when I told Benjamin this morning that we were going to the park soon, and to find his Crocs...his response was: "Oh my goodness...we're going to the park! Jonny!!?? Do you know that? Are you excited? It's gonna be so much fun!"
(killed me. just killed me.)

Suffice it to say, I love this child.
And his obvious appreciation for others and everything else that makes his daily life so much damn fun.

Under Construction...

2008-04-23T17:52:00.001-07:00

I've been thinking for a while that I'd like to update the format on my blog...actually, I've been thinking about it since I snuggled up to Sarah on her couch that evening last summer, as she guided me through the constructs of my very first blogging attempt.

So why am I posting this?

I guess just so you could all imagine Sarah in her pjs and headgear.

Today was good. Great, actually. Bout to clean up kitchen and snuggle up next to Brian and watch some tv.
We might even make out.
But I'm ovulating, so that's not a good idea (insert smiley guy shaking head back and forth vigorously here)!

"Seed Moments"

2008-04-22T12:44:00.000-07:00

My favorite writing professor (who was also intimidating as hell, but that's another story) at Loyola once said that the best "starts" for stories are moments...things you witness in real life. And then the story flows from there...often in the most random of ways. He called these observations/moments "seed thoughts". I loved this idea so much, and of course...being not only the eager beaver student that I was, but also the great fan of writing in my pastime, I bought a journal to carry with me on the L. I would see things, from the profound to mundane, and jot them down. Sometimes I would use them for stories...sometimes not. But noticing them, I think, is what helped me develop my instincts and love for writing.

And so, in my regular, daily life, I notice things. I notice a lot. My principal at Meridian Middle School once told me that my single most valuable skill as a teacher was my ability to observe and reflect. My point is not self-congratulatory, but rather this: I can't help but be so acutely aware of my environment, that sometimes I'm overwhelmed with how to capture it all. And honestly, it often is the reason I am forgetful or even late for things.
I'm just...always...processing.

I started this blog, thinking that it would help me hone my thoughts and observations in a meaningful way...and some days I think I've accompolished just that. But other days, when so many things have happened in the life of this family of mine that are blogworthy, all I want to do is just sit and be in the moment. And then the moment is gone, and I wind up reverting to my usual sarcastic, often bitchy, babble and wit.

Then there are days when I observe something, particularly with one of my boys, that captures just how I feel that day. Seemingly insignificant, yet not in the larger context of my life.
Today has been a really good day, for many unimportant reasons...mostly just the flow, and relative ease of it all. But what has stood out have been those moments where I feel so proud of and right in the role I'm playing.
This time I'm spending...even as I walk hand in hand with Benjamin through the halls of a middle school (where Ms. Margaret's class is held)...and am every-reminded of this other part of me. And yet, even though I often feel a pang of jealousy as I see teachers grading papers in their classrooms (never thought I'd miss that part), or when Benjamin asks me "what are those kids doing?" when they're just simply lining up in the hallway with their bright, fresh-faced young teacher...even in those moments, I'm grateful. It's something that I clearly recognize as a choice...and know that for some, it's not the right one. But what I seem to have so much gratitude lately for is this ever-increasing awareness I have of myslef...perhaps it's the yoga, who knows. But I'm feeling more and more at home with who I am and the choices I'm making.
And if I'm being honest, I'm not just grateful for what this "time" is giving my boys...but selfishly, what it's giving me.

In our house right now, it's silent.
Brian is working in the basement, but I can't (which is unusual) hear his "work voice" bellowing from the lower level. Benjamin is napping (hooray--yesterday he boycotted!), and is in hour 3 of a much needed slumber. Windows are open, and you can hear the faint noise of kids walking home from Lakeside School...but other than that, it's quiet. I'm here, in the kitchen, putting price tags on garage sale items, and Jonathan's in the TV room, "reading" his books. I hear him making cute noises...so I just go and stand in the doorway to the TV room, and hope he doesn't notice me. I watch as he stands at the coffee table and turns the pages of The Snowy Day slowly...and laughs to himself, perhaps recognizing some of his favorite parts of the story...and then I watch him point his stubby, sweaty little index finger at the bathtub scene in the story, near the end. And he mutters, in a language only I can understand..."busshhh teef!". As in, of course, "brush teeth".
And then he made himself giggle so much that he actually bent over the table and did that croaky noise that kids make when they laugh too hard. All the while, completely unaware of my presence.

So I smiled...and just noticed it.
In all of its precious, and fleeting, simplicity.

Sleep, My Little Cubs, Sleep...

2008-04-21T05:56:00.001-07:00

What a fun-filled weekend...the boys spent 95% of their time outside in the sun and dirt...playing with neighbors, toads, puddles and push toys. What more could they ask for? Jonny learned to fish for rocks out of the neighbor's homemade pond, and Benjamin learned how to terrorize Jonathan in new and exciting ways. The weekend was capped off with a BBQ here with neighbors...and became an impromptu gathering for more of our neighbor friends. Each kid left a whole lot dirtier than they arrived, and have our ghetto, unfinished backyard to thank for that. But holy cow, were they adorable, every last one of them and their grubby, over-tired faces at the end of the night.

Anyway, here's to life on Santa Cruz, and a FANTASTIC weekend of good weather, fun and friends.

As I was reading nursery rhymes to Jonny last night in his room...I read over the line "Sleep, my little cubs, sleep..". I looked down at him, and he was asleep against my chest...and it was heaven. It's in those moments that I feel like life truly can't get any better.

Friday Download

2008-04-18T11:05:00.000-07:00

The following bits of randomness are exactly that: random.
Just don't have that cohesive flow going on today, know whatts I mean?

Last night I was thinking about my brother Chris during spin class. I'm really loving that class, and now that I have the shoes--it's like a new sport for me. And holy cow, I don't know a better ass-kicker in the cardio dept. Anyway, I was thinking, as I do every class about halfway through, about how difficult cycling is in contrast to how easy it looks. I have moments during the workout where I think I'm literally going to lose all lung capacity and my legs are going to burst into flames...and then, for some reason, I'm able to push myself even further.
Helps to have sweet music, too.
My usual Thursday night instructor is a sure bet in the music dept, but last night we had a sub. He was ok...some cheesey stuff mostly, but that stuff's the best for a workout sometimes, right? There's a country song (also played in Body Pump sometimes, so Dina--I'm sure you know it) called "Save a horse, ride a cowboy"...makes me giggle, but it's great for cardio.
But the best was at the end, when we had just finished what I thought was our last segment...a series of sprints. And then the instructor tells us that it's "time for our final climb" and to "turn it up to 100 percent"...if you know cycling/spin class, you know that's not good news when your tank top's soaking wet and your face is beet red.
But then the song kicks in, and it's "Where the Streets Have No Name" by U2...and that was all I needed. Totally found my groove and cranked it out.
So, Christopher, if you're reading this...I channeled not only your spirit of appreciation for that song, but also your intense skill at cycling. And at the end, as we were climbing to the very top of the hill, Bono was singing that line "and when I go there, I go there with you...", I pictured you right next to me.
Even as I was imagining it, I knew it was total cheese.
But dammit, it kinda rocked, too.
I think I get why you love that song so much...at least in my own way.

Other randomness.
Benjamin.
He's absolutely hilarious.
My neighbor friend Megan, and her two daughters, stopped by today while on a walk...right after lunch. I had just finished taking B's shirt off, as it was covered in ketchup and mustard. So he was just sportin track pants. Totally WT.
When they came to the front door, Benjamin burst out in front of me to go say hi to Annabell...his buddy (she's the same age). When he approached her, perched on her pink tricycle with pink tassles...he exclaimed, skinny, pasty-white arm gesturing toward her..."Oh, Annabell...you just look beautiful today!"
Killed me.
He also decided not to nap, but I wasn't aware of this fact until about 45 minutes into "nap time". I'd showered right after putting the boys down, made my way downstairs to check some email and start this blog...cleaned the kitchen a bit, and then hear a noise from his room. I went up there and saw his covers askew on the bed, and no Benjamin. That right there practically made me laugh, but I had to pretend to be serious. Then, I look to my right and see his closet door cracked open just the tiniest bit...but enough to see one of those big, round, Precious-Moment eyes staring out at me.
PLG.
When he saw my smirk give way to a giggle, he stepped out proudly and said, "You know what, Mommy? I don't think it's a good nappers today."
To which, I replied, "No...I think you're right."
But perhaps the number one reason for my positive attitude was the fact that I knew it meant early to bed.
And on a Friday night, especially one that I've been anxious to enjoy with my hubby and NO PLANS, it's a good thing.

So, off we'll go to Meijer later (I know you just love that part, Sarah...it makes you so happy to read it, doesn't it?!), then hit Jersey Junction on foot...and settle in for early bedtime...and mommy/daddy beverages.

Last bit of randomness:
Jonathan is patting the front of his pants every time he poops lately and announcing to me, "Poo!...Poo!"
We're in the midst of potty training Benjamin...and it's going slow as hell. I'm starting to think Jonny's gonna sneak up and take the lead on this one.

Ridic.

And the hits just keep on comin...

2008-04-17T10:55:00.000-07:00

I've been afraid of this for some time, and as of this morning...the time is upon us.

We need a new washer and dryer.

F**k me.
Haven't even paid off the wedding expenses and here we go again!

Ignore this post.
Just needed to bitch.

Now I'm off to change my laundry over at my neighbor Katie's house, as it was mid-cycle this morning when the whole shootin match went south on us.
I guess the one positive that came out of this whole thing was a fun morning of playing at Katie's with the kids, and a lunch out in the sun on their deck.
Benjamin thought the whole thing was exciting, even my pushing a double stroller loaded down with black trash bags full of laundry over to their house.
You wanna talk ghetto...

Anyway, good times, as always. Unfortunately, as with most families, the washer and dryer are the lifeline of the house.
Along with the coffee pot.

Never to be forgotten...

2008-04-14T06:17:00.000-07:00

Wow, where to begin.
At this point, we are all just so overwhelmed from all of the excitement, momentum, and pure emotion of the past 4 days. And EXHAUSTED.
The wedding was beautiful, and the bride and groom even more so. Brian and I could hardly stop talking all the way home, and even as we went to bed last night, about all of the memorable aspects of the whole experience. Plenty of PLG moments with the boys (especially the ring bearer)...and funny moments...but none to be outdone by the number of meaningful, relationship-building ones. Not even sure if I'll ever to be able to articulate just how special this whole wedding "season" has been.
I'll surely have some sort of lengthy commentary, as usual, at some point...but for today I just need to make my way through the unpacking and massive amounts of laundry.
I also need to try and somehow be as much fun for my boys as their Uncle Paul, Uncle Mike, Muma and Grandpa have been for the past several days...surely not to be outdone.
We are so incredibly grateful for all of the memories...for now, here are just a few pictures.
You know, to start with.:)

To any Richards or Loitersteins:) that are reading this...we love you!

"Springer Mom"

2008-04-07T12:44:00.000-07:00

As in, Jerry Springer.
As in, the type of mom who appears on the Jerry Springer show.
As in, unfortunately, me...today.

For whatever reason (I can think of a few), I'm not hangin too well today. And immediately, I hate the fact that I'm--once again--bitching in my blog about the woes of mommyhood. Such a cliche. But holy shit, friends. Today's been the kind that just pushes you right on over the edge.
And it's not even all about my boys.
My boys will be who they are, and I accept that. I can deal pretty well, often singing nursery rhymes amidst the chaos and keeping a smile on my face. It's when I talk to my girlfriends on the phone (thanks, by the way, Sarah) mid-afternoon...speeding at Mach 7 down my street as though I'm in a getaway car...to go pick up my bridesmaid dress from the tailor's, while the boys nap...that I can truly unleash the beast festering inside.
Obviously I'm grateful here on two fronts: a husband working in the basement which allows me to speed away in said automobile...and a girlfriend who needs zero backstory in order to relate to my snarky-ass mood.

So it all started with Ms. Sue at the nursery today. I got the boys there at 8:15am...with tummies full of healthy breakfast and armed with snacks for an emergency. I go to Body Pump, ride on the bike for a while, and take a heavenly shower...even though at that point I was literally running from the showers to the dressing area to get dressed, and didn't even comb my hair out before picking the boys up. After a certain amount of time I start to feel like a shitty, neglectful mom.
But I get there, and they seem happy. Benjamin's coloring at a table with another boy...and Jonny's shoving all kinds of random shit into a smaller container. Happy boys.
They both bum-rush me and it's sheer delirium...happy mom, happy boys...and then, Ms. Sue saunters on up to us in her bad sweater and mom jeans.
"We had kind of a bad morning in here, Mom" she says.

First of all:
"Mom???"
It's Meg. Or Mrs. Richards. Pick one.
She's done this before, and every time it just feels a tad bit condescending and icky to me.
But whatever.

So, I ask: "Uh, oh...what happened?"
And she proceeds to tell me how Benjamin wasn't sharing well, didn't want to listen...and had a few time-outs.
Now, I'm all for the time-outs. No problem there. And I'm even MORE all for having them tell me what goes wrong. I refuse to be one of those moms who are in denial that their kids are ever guilty of wrong-doing...and I'll always be willing to face the music and deal appropriately.

But I'll NEVER be ok with someone talking to me in a condescending tone about my own children...and giving me advice on how to deal with them.
Here's what happened next:

"I'm sorry Ms. Sue...it's been a real challenge lately at home, I swear..." I say as I give Benjamin an I'm disappointed in you look. "It's been so hard with Jonathan into his things now...and I swear, it's the age, too. Three seems to be so much harder than two."

At this point she interrupts me, and puts her hand on my upperarm, and says:
"Now Mom...we know it's the age...but that doesn't mean we don't have accountability for our behavior."

Oh no you didn't, Ms. Sue.

Now, if any of you pals of mine know me at all, I tend to err on the side of stronger discipline than not. It's the teacher in me, I suppose. It's also the fact that I am a tireless believer in good manners and respect for others. So having this marmy of a nursery worker try to school me on good parenting techniques was just not what I was in the mood for this morning.
And what I hate even more, is that it put me in such a bad mood that I probably got a bit too upset with Benjamin. We talked in the car about it...and, as usual, he sort of got it...but then, about 30 seconds after our "talk" was over, he said something like "I'm gonna push Jonny, Mommy...and that will be naughty."
And so today, I couldn't take it.
I pulled over on the side of the road and put the car in park. We were just about to turn down Santa Cruz, so of course I was within eyesight of several neighbors. But I took off the sunglasses, (the weave and the gold earrings...haha, just kidding) and looked him straight in the eye.
"Benjamin, you are NOT allowed to push your brother."

"Ok, Mommy" he said...with his head leaning back into his seat...totally getting it, finally.
But when I put the car back in drive and turned down our street, I felt a bit like a Springer-esque mommy. Like I was just one "oh no you aint gonna give me no shit, boy" away from totally losing decorum as a mom.

Sadly, the rest of our day has been just as challenging...one thing after the next, making me increasingly aware of why my Nana turned to religion when my two uncles, her first two children...only about 18mos apart, were at this phase of life. I've heard stories, and they amaze me at what she dealt with.
And now I get it much more intimately than I'd like.

Insult to injury, this bridesmaid dress is seriously turning out to be more expensive than the elaborate party I threw in Chicago. (Denise, if you're reading this, forgive my candor...but this is my blog, and I need to vent. I love you and love the dress. Just need to bitch today.)
So when I order the dress, they tell me, that based on my measurements...that I'll need to order a plus size, which means I'll have to pay 50 extra big ones. Now, I know I'm not a skinny min...but holy shit, I'm not a size 18, which is what they ordered for me. And as a result of all the extra fabric (which I paid for), the tailor had to charge me EXTRA just to take it all in...and the seams/lines/layers of the dress are so intricate, that they're charging extra for all the time it took. Talk about a high maintenance piece of clothing. And to top it all off...when I went to pick it up today, the bust area was too big still...so back it went to the tailor's...and I'm crossing my sweet little fingers that it's all set by tomorrow, when I pick it up.
I can't imagine if Brian didn't work from home...some days, more than others, I'm grateful as hell. So grateful, in fact, that I took advantage and veered the big ass Explorer off toward the Bucks drive-thru.
Sister needed a late afternoon mocha.

I'm home now, waiting to take the boys to the playground after B's nap...hoping that I can regain some ground with my wee ones, and be a better mommy all around.

Because I swear...after today, all someone has to do is look at me wrong, and I'll be up outta my chair and swingin fists.
You know, like on Springer.

Before I forget...

2008-04-04T09:51:00.001-07:00

So many things to blog about, nothing of great consequence, just funny bits and latest revelations...but really, as usual, no time.

But I HAD to pop on here with this little nugget:

I'm cleaning up the kitchen as Benjamin finishes his lunch, and Jonathan's busy with some toys in the TV room. Feeling somewhat satisfied at our morning at Meijer Gardens and the overall amount of outdoor play and quality activity the last few days (with Brian out of town)...I say to Benjamin, as I wipe the counters:
"You know, I'd say your mommy kinda rocked it out these past few days, Bubbs..."

And he says, I quote: "Huh, yeaaahh, mommy...I'd say you did."

Don't need any further affirmation than that.

And now for a bit of "home".

2008-04-02T11:48:00.000-07:00