I love her yet I've never met her

The greatest thing about the internet is Lori Rooney. She is not a celebrity. She is not a friend of mine (other than the "friend of a friend" variety). She is just a mom who writes a blog. And I crave her entries like I crave chocolate. She is an exceptional writer, mother, teacher, and human being. Read her blog and you will love her too.

Read this blog. If you can, donate $5 or $10 or whatever you can to help the Rooney family travel to Ethiopia to bring their daughter home. Your donation also enters you into a cool contest to win a gorgeous handmade doll.

http://ourownrooney.blogspot.com/2010/11/ode-to-my-friend-and-chance-for-you-to.html

Reflections on 40 days of blogging

Technically, yesterday was the last day of my self imposed 40 day blogging challenge. Except that I didn't post yesterday, nor did I post the day before. Oh well, sometimes you go out with a bang, sometimes with a whisper, sometimes... nothing.

A few weeks ago, when I missed posting for one day, I was wracked with anxiety and disappointment. Now, not a big deal. So I missed 3-4 days of the 40. I also posted twice a day on several occasions. It's a reflection of my life goal: BALANCE.

I learned a lot in the last 40 days.

1. I am more private with information than I am with feelings.
2. Blogs are more interesting when they include photos. But my sense of privacy doesn't allow me to include photos of myself or any of the people in my life on my blog. Therefore, my blog will never be as interesting as it could be.
3. 40 days really does cement a habit. I definitely had the need to blog, even when time did not allow me to sit in front of a computer.
4. I never once ran out of material to write about, only time.

I also discovered that the blogs I truly love have one of these qualities in common:

a) Challenge: I love when there is a specific challenge or goal, such as the "Julie & Julia" blogger's goal of cooking every dish from Julia Child's cookbook. I love The Uniform Project ( www.theuniformproject.com ). Sheena wore the same dress every day as a statement about sustainable living, creativity, and as a fundraiser. She just finished her year of daily blogging today. Before I started this challenge, I was desperate to come up with a challenge of my own, but finally conceded that the simple challenge of writing something every day while also raising children, etc, was more than enough on my plate. Still, I dream of someday finding that specific goal that lights a fire under me.

b) Emotion: Authentic emotion. I find it all the time in my friends' blogs, and particularly on the blog: ourownrooney.blogspot.com

c) Quantity: Yes, I do prefer my bloggers to post often. It's a drag checking back again and again, only to see the same old post up for days or weeks on end. However, will I continue to post daily? I don't know.

d) Inspiration: It's always fulfilling to read a post that makes me want to do better. I don't know if this qualifies as a blog, but check out www.TheHappinessProject.com .

e) A combination of a & d: Philanthropic posts get me every time. I am committed to my friend Norm's Facebook group "Kenya Spare a Camera?" which chronicled his month volunteering at an orphanage in Kenya and really brought to light the fact that people can get together and make a difference! I adore http://www.MotherBearProject.com and the phenomenal woman who created it, Amy. Ditto http://crafthope.com .

I'd love to hear about the sites that YOU love, too!

So, there you have it: I have no bold declarations, no new challenge, no promises to blog every day... nothing new. I do plan on keeping this little thing going for the time being, and will always welcome your thoughts.

Middle age

I love magazines and have subscribed to several every year for as long as I can remember. 10-20 years ago, I subscribed to Vogue, and Harper's Bazaar, and Allure, and Elle. Young single girl stuff- fashion, beauty, frivolity. Today, it's Real Simple, and Parenting, and the Oprah magazine.

It's official: I'm middle aged.

Bad at math

I have never been great at math. Full disclosure: I failed math in 10th grade, and had to repeat it the following year. For an otherwise straight A student, this was beyond humiliating. I ended up kicking butt the second time around, but this failure was enough to scar me for life. I carry that F like a scarlet letter, branding me as forever bad at math.

It turns out that I'm pretty good at real life math, except for when it comes to time management. The little one has been sleeping through the night for 2 weeks now, which is wonderful beyond measure. I have been waiting for this extra time at night for nearly 3 years. But now my to do list has swelled to simply unreasonable proportions. I have 2 hours after the kids go to bed and before I should go to bed in order for me to be well rested.

Instead, I'm trying to cram every little thing I ever dreamed of accomplishing into that time slot. Watch TV/movies, exercise, clean the kitchen, organize the kids' toys, pedicure, bath, laundry, fold laundry, clean the bathrooms, empty the trash, knit, pore over cookbooks, fundraising for the school, Facebook, thank you cards, wrap gifts, email, blogging... So now I'm going to bed later than ever before and getting less sleep than I should... And all I really wanted was some more sleep.

I guess I really DO suck at math.

"She's so HAPPY!"

Very often, when we are out in public, a perfect stranger will comment about my little one, "She's so HAPPY!" I'm always confounded as to how it was intended. A compliment? An observation?

I'm super-ultra-mega-sensitive about my kids and about people's perceptions of them, so I often feel slighted by this comment. To me, its something people say about a severely special needs child for whom they have no other compliment. "But she's so HAPPY!" Like telling an obese girl she has a pretty face, the implication is that there is something wrong with everything else.

I know I sound crazy, and I do cop to having too thin a skin about this issue, but think about it: we comment on the main positive we notice. When our big girl was a baby, everyone commented on her big eyes. It hurts me that no one sees my little girl and offers compliments on her beauty, because she IS beautiful.

That being said, I also recognize that my chief dreams for my kids are for health and happiness. Not for beauty and mediocrity. Truly, if they are healthy and happy, I am (mentally) healthy and happy. If the little one stays happy, I will be thrilled beyond belief. She is a joy to behold.

Even a stranger can see.

More Celebrity Crushes

1. Sharlto Copley- I would have bet money that a white South African would never make it on my crush list, but, well... never say never. If you haven't seen "District 9" yet, for the love of humanity, just see it already! I'm not a fan of sci-fi, and I watched it on a screen the size of my hand (on an airplane!), and I still laughed and cried out loud several times. Powerful movie, talented actor, hot guy crush.

2. Benjamin Bratt- Years after he won my heart on L & O, I still heart him, for obvious reasons. Gorgeous man & social activist. What's not to love?

3. George Clooney- Everyone who knows me knows that I hate to jump on a bandwagon, but... Is it too obvious to add George Clooney to my list of celebrity crushes? Its the equilvalent of saying that ice cream is my favorite frozen dessert. But speaking of dessert, that man is just yummy.

Inspiration

Feeling down, feeling sorry for myself, feeling overwhelmed by challenges... I drove past a church with one of those message boards out front:

"In the middle of chaos, there is hope".

Talk about timing!

Feelin' Earthy

Earth Day is like a birthday- sad if we only take one day out of 365 to celebrate, but it's a start. I think we should celebrate unbirthdays for people, too. Imagine if we were all showered with cards and phone calls and gifts at the 6 month mark between birthdays. It would be one more day to feel loved, without the pressure of having a new age to contend with. But I digress...

Every day is Earth Day around here. We recycle like mad (I am known as the recycling Nazi by several), eat largely FLOSS (fresh, local, organic, seasonal, sustainable), reuse/donate/ repurpose, use stainless steel reuseable water bottles, use compact fluorescent light bulbs, reuseable shopping bags, biodegradeable/earth friendly detergents/shampoo, we have been slowly ridding our house of plastic... But every day I feel consumed with all I'm NOT doing.

We eat bananas, which, although organic, can hardly be considered local (unless you happen to live in South America). Disposable baby wipes and diapers. I color my hair. We use a ton of plastic. Saran wrap. We don't compost! The list is endless...

My sister has 2 kids, a job, and is super active in her community, yet still manages to make ten times the effort of most people when it comes to living green. Both of her kids never used a disposable diaper, never used disposable baby wipes. They walk or bike almost everywhere, they recycle like nobody's business, are vegetarian... Honestly, she is truly inspiring.

My lifelong friend of 35 years started a blog recently about her quest to move from greener to greenest. Check it out: crazygreenmom.blogspot.com . She is taking on challenges that we should really all be doing. People can get turned off by this, but I hope it inspires you as it does me. I tell myself all the time, I'm doing my best, and while sometimes its true, very often that is just something we tell ourselves to avoid doing the necessary work. I don't know a single person who can't do even a tiny bit more to leave less of a dent in the environment.

Baking

No sooner do I blog about my shameful history (or lack thereof) in the kitchen, but I get a compliment about my culinary prowess. A mom friend from school- an amazing homemaker who cooks/gardens/sews/keeps the cleanest house I have EVER seen- shared this:

Her son was telling his dad about the day at school and said "C's mom (aka me) made muffins, and they were so good I ate two!" The dad's response to his wife (aka Supermom/Superwife) was "K makes muffins AND she has two kids?! YOU don't make me muffins..."

Sigh... Grass is always greener, no? I'm greedy enough that I'll take that compliment even at the expense of my dear friend. (Tongue firmly planted in cheek.)

Cooking

I am not known as a cook. This is the understatement of the year. I would be happy grazing in lieu of meals, just snacking my way through every day. However, I have kids, and therefore, we have meals. Putting meals on the table is a torturous enterprise for me. The meal planning, the timing of it all, the strategizing: what will the kids eat that is somewhat different from what we ate the night before and the night before that and the night before that...

I have friends who either don't comment on their cooking abilities or else profess to be wonderful in the kitchen. If anyone asks me, and often when they don't, I say that I'm a terrible cook. But that isn't necessarily true. WHEN I actually cook, it usually tastes pretty good. But getting to the actual cooking, and getting through the actual process, is a stressful undertaking for me (and for my husband!).

I get the humble aspect: I was raised by 2 people who don't believe in tooting their own horns. But in 17 years away from home, I keep telling myself the same story. "I suck at cooking! I hate it! I have no ideas!" Why?

Is it because my mom was such a good cook that I fear I can't live up to her?
Because I'm lazy?
Because I'm a creature of habit?
Because the list of what my big girl (and I!)won't eat is longer than the list of what we will eat?
Because I'm a feminist and cringe at being good at something that is traditionally women's work?
Because eating isn't a priority to me?
Because I'm a bad wife?
Because I have low self esteem?
Because I overthink everything?

Because, because, because, because, because!

Date Night

Saturday night was date night, and since both kids are sleeping through the night now, I was finally up for both dinner and a movie, for the first time in years. I betray our demographic when I tell you that I chose "Date Night" as the movie. Tina Fey, Steve Carrell- two of the most adorable, attractive, hilarious people on the planet (both celebrity crushes of mine), playing a married couple with two kids, just like R and me. It seemed too good to be true, and I was so scared that I'd be disappointed.

I needn't have worried. I laughed harder watching that movie than I have in a long time, and keep in mind, I have small children who do funny things every day. I laughed so hard that my theater seat squeaked away uncontrollably. I laughed so hard I thought I would choke.

That movie may well have been written about me. When Steve (hubby) asks Tina (wife) if she dreams about leaving him to have sex with other men, and she responds that she dreams of running off to a hotel to enjoy a quiet sandwich with a diet Sprite, I thought, EXACTLY! It's actually embarassing how much I relate to her character in that movie.

For days, I have been laughing out loud to myself as I remember different scenes and moments. If you are married with kids, see it.

Beyond Belief

My family makes me happy beyond belief. My husband is thoughtful and considerate, and my kids are to die for! The girls are funny, sweet, affectionate, smart, and sooooooooo creative. I hope the affectionate part sticks. I'll miss that when they are older and not so into snuggling with their mom.

Dixie

Dixie Carter passed away one week ago. Although I hadn't seen her in 8 years, it made me very sad. I was Dixie's stand-in on the TV show "Family Law" for 3 years, and although we did not grow close enough to stay in touch upon the show's cancellation, I enjoyed working with her during those years.

What I remember most about Dixie is that she LOVED LOVED LOVED her family. She talked about her husband, Hal Holbrook, constantly, and clearly adored the man. At that point, they had been married for 20 years, and her eyes gleamed like a teenager in love when she spoke of him. Hal guest starred on an episode of Family Law, and she was the happiest she had ever been on set that week. Literally glowed, lit up at anything to do with Hal. Pretty amazing.

9/11 happened during the run of FL, and I remember her worrying desperately about one of her daughters who was either in New York or en route to New York. She was beside herself, stressed out. She really was a genuinely maternal woman. One of her daughters played Dixie's daughter on the show. Several episodes later, the TV daughter was killed off and Dixie insisted that the role be recast. She absolutely refused to play a scene with her dying daughter, said she just wouldn't be able to handle it. At the time, I didn't understand, I just thought "You're an actress, for goodness sake... ACT!" Now I get it. She loved her kids so much and couldn't even go there.

As you can probably imagine, she was the ultimate Southern Belle. Seriously! Such a LADY. Feminine through and through. Kind and charming and girlish, although she was already 60. Wafer thin with flawless skin. She could have passed for 40, but I was also surprised to hear she was "only" 70 when she died, because it felt as though she had been on TV forever.

The purpose of a stand-in is to be around when the actors aren't, so often we were the proverbial two ships passing in the night. But she always had a kind word for me, which may not sound like much, but trust me, many actresses don't have a word at all for their stand-in, particularly one who is 30 some years younger. Since she was 60ish, she had had it with the ridiculously long hours we worked on that show, so often she would go home and I would play her part for the other actor's coverage (close-ups). This gave me a chance to shine as an actress in front of the directors and producers, which led to me getting 3 on camera roles on the show.

My final role on Family Law was in what ended up as our final episode ever, and I had the great pleasure of fighting with Dixie in the scene. I played a nurse caring for Ernest Borgnine, and Dixie played his lawyer. My mother in law had two comments after watching that episode: first, "I didn't see you" (I was blonde at the time and she apparently didn't recognize me), and then, after rewinding and rewatching: "You were awfully snippy to Dixie Carter!".

Rest in peace, with love from your stand-in.

From Sunshiney to Blue and back again

I've been feeling great lately. Sleeping through the night sure helps with the attitude adjustment. Then, out of nowhere, a day of deflation. Someone saying something to take the wind out of my sails, tantrums by the kids, feeling like I'm never, ever enough.

Depression, eff right off! I know you well enough to consider you an old friend, but although we are well acquainted, I know better than to call you friend. The enumeration of all of the ways in which I am failing my kids, my husband, myself are utterly endless, and I am sick to death of hearing them replayed in my mind AD NAUSEUM.

It is nauseating, truly. I have a great life, with the best family anyone could ever hope for. I know this. So why does this happen again and again and again? Whenever something goes awry I feel like its the end of the world, and I then I feel like the end of the world is all my fault.

This time, as quickly as the dark cloud formed above my head, it dispersed, and the world is looking sunny again. The question is: next time this happens, will I remember THIS TOO SHALL PASS.

?

Pet Peeves

Too much perfume.
Weird spellings for names.
Discussion of bodily functions. Exception: discussing my kids. : )
Texting while driving.
Mosquitoes.
Any biting insects.
Loud phone conversations in public.
Poor customer service.
Friends checking iPhones/Blackberries while having a conversation with me.
Unsolicited parenting advice. Especially from non parents.

Yard Sale

On Sunday, S and I had a yard sale. We've had quite a few over the years, especially with K, and we always have fun. Our yard sale was mostly a bust- metaphorical tumbleweeds were blowing through, and it was the coldest day of the year- but it was a lovely excuse to spend a few hours with my dear friend, and with few customers, we had plenty of time to talk and reconnect.

Lots of time to just watch the trees sway in the strong wind. A beautiful yellow butterfly was grounded, seemingly by the powerful wind. It landed on the front walkway, and didn't move again, even after lots of encouragement from S. A hummingbird spent some time among the birds of paradise. The cold set in. It started to rain.

Yard sales always seem to bring out some truly outrageous characters, but on Sunday, we met only a handful of very polite people. It was pleasant, but I couldn't help but be a tad disappointed by the lack of drama. Think of the blog, people! I need some organically outrageous stories! (At a yard sale with K years ago, a woman arrived with a pot bellied pig, and her van indeed resembled a pig sty. That was the sort of encounter I was counting on!)

We were literally closing up, when an older woman burst onto the scene, talking animatedly and very loudly on her cell phone. She nearly walked right into my house, then turned and wandered the yard while engaging in a very noisy phone call in another language. S and I were amused and satisfied- FINALLY, our outrageous customer had arrived!

While talking- no, shouting- and gesticulating on the phone, she bent down, picked up the butterfly, and placed it upon our yard sale wares. The butterfly- seemingly lifeless for nearly an hour- stirred, then started to fly! S and I were mesmerized. Was our outrageous yard sale customer also a healer? A healer of butterflies, no less?!

She finally got off the phone and apologized to us for her conversation. We exchanged pleasantries, and then she remarked upon the towering tree that hangs over our front yard. She said it is an Iranian tut (pronounced "toot") tree. (A quick Google search seems to indicate that tut is a mulberry tree.) She regaled us with tales of buying this fruit from a fruit vendor every morning as a child in Iran, about her marriage and divorce, about the tut tree in the yard of the home she shared with her (now ex) husband and how it took her 8 years to recognize the tree in her yard ("8 YEARS!" she screamed).

What I loved most about our outrageous character was that despite her outrageousness, which initially reduced her to a caricature, she was so very lovely and human. When she strode into the yard, screaming into her cell phone, I expected to write a tart little entry making fun of this character of a woman. And she was/is a character! But she is a character in the best sense- a larger than life personality who actually possesses character. She really took the time to connect with us, sharing memories, breaking through the polite chit chat of strangers to really communicate. S and I both enjoyed this encounter immensely, and it brings a smile to my face today as I type.

Addictions

(*written late at night on Monday)

Today I discovered that I'm addicted to caffeine. This seems like the most boring of statements, considering that most people are addicted to caffeine. But, me? Really?! I'm the stick in the mud who doesn't even drink coffee. Correction: I occasionally drink caramel frappuccinos with tons of whipped cream, and I had a major fit when Starbucks stopped making them decaf. But that was feeding my sugar addiction...

Leave it to Trader Joe's to get me addicted. They make a chai tea latte mix that is out of this world- spicy, sugary... delectable. I started off slow- decaf. The switch to regular wasn't intentional- they just stopped making the decaf, and by the time they stopped with the decaf, I was already craving it. I've been drinking it on an occasional basis for a couple of years now. Except that suddenly, like all addictions, it wasn't so occasional anymore. My casual dalliance with caffeine suddenly became a daily event.

I can actually quantify, to some degree, my chai addiction. I'm a preschool mom AND an unstoppable recycler, so I have literally bags off coffee tins (my husband's) and chai cans (mine)waiting to be turned into adorable preschool crafts. Let's just say that I have more than enough for the entire class.

(Today) we were running late for school, and I skipped my morning chai. The day was busy, so I held off. I kept wondering why I was dragging my butt all day long. It finally occurred to me around 3pm: Oh my gosh. I'm one of them! I've become a caffeine-withdrawal-zombie, stomping through the day in a fog because I didn't get my fix.

This may seem like a frothy little anecdote about my appetites, but I really believe it speaks to something bigger. Those who know me well know that I don't drink. Not just "I don't drink more than a glass or 2 of wine, socially". I mean, I really don't drink. And I'm not a friend of Bill (although I have much respect for anonymous programs...). I've never had a problem with alcohol, because I've never really had anything to drink. I've never even tried smoking. I've never tried any drug. NOTHING. Aside from my emergency C-section and the morphine shot that accompanied it, I am as drug free as a 37 year old can possibly be. Hell, I even got my teeth drilled with no pain meds, by choice!

Over the years, friends have projected their insecurities on this fact- I must be judging them, I must be a prude/stick in the mud, etc etc etc. But I think in reality it comes down to an inkling that perhaps I have an addictive personality. And those substances are addictions that I am not keen on pursuing.

Then again, maybe I am just a boring nerd. Tina Fey says that a lack of curiosity kept her away from drugs, and that is probably my deal too. I'll jump on any bandwagon that has Tina Fey on it. She's my girl crush. (I know, take a number...)

These are a few of my favorite things

Flower- tulip, hydrangea
Ice cream- pralines n' cream, mint chocolate chip, dulce de leche
Restaurants- Angeli Cafe, The Counter
Animal- gorilla
Frozen yogurt- Yogurtland, Menchies
Vacation- honeymoon in Kauai
Age- 33 (birth of my first child)
Pasta sauce- pesto
Salad- Caesar
Rabbit- lop-eared

Sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!!!!!

On Friday night, I had my first full night of sleep since July of 2007. 9 hours straight! And I feel appropriately AMAZING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

40 days

"To understand people, you must live among them for 40 days" - Arabic proverb

I am no scholar of 40 days, but a quick web search turns up countless pages of its significance. 40 days is referenced again and again in both Old and New Testaments of the Bible, 40 days crops up in the Torah, and 40 days also seems to be significant in the Islamic faith. There are 40 days of Lent. When Noah built that Ark, the rain poured for 40 days. According to the Talmud, it takes an embryo 40 days to be formed in utero. 40 day cycles are used to almost perfectly measure out the rate of each passing solar year. Moses in the mount? 40 days. Jesus in the desert? 40 days. An Islamic adage says that the prayers of a person who drinks wine or gossips will not be accepted for 40 days. When I took prenatal yoga, our teacher repeatedly stressed the importance of 40 days of bonding with the new baby, as well as 40 days of no exercise, sex, or physical stress post baby.

The cynic in me says that 40 days is just a convenient literary cliche that just stuck over time. But the part of me that is open to mystery just loves the significance of the universal number. I believe in 40 days.

I once read that it takes 40 days to cement a habit, and although I don't have the source to cite, I do believe it. So, for this reason I have decided to veer from our original goal of 1 month of daily blog posts, and will instead blog for 40 days straight.

The wisdom of the frog

Wisdom from the movie "The Princess and the Frog":

1. "Life is short, when you're done, you're done,
We're on this earth to have some fun"

2. "You got what you wanted. But did you want what you got?"

3. "You got to dig a little deeper, find out who you are.
Dig a little deeper, it really ain't that hard."

4. "Rich people, poor people, all have dreams."

Niecy Nash

On the drive home from school, we pulled up behind a giant, white Lexus SUV with vanity plates spelling "Niecey". Immediately I knew it: it was Niecy Nash, host of "Clean House", one of my very favorite TV shows (more on that later... I could talk about "Clean House" all day!). It was so obvious. I mean, how many people can possibly be named Niecy? And a spanking white behemoth of a Lexus is exactly what Niecy would drive! I couldn't wait to get a look at her! I pulled up next to her as we approached the next light...

And it wasn't Niecy! Correction: it may well have been NIECEY, but it wasn't Ms. Nash. Yes, the spelling should have tipped me off, but honestly, imagine my surprise when I pulled up next to a middle aged white woman. WHAT?!

Oh well. I learned 2 lessons today:
1. Don't assume anything.
2. There are at least 2 Niec(e)ys living in Los Angeles.

Senior prom

I recently reconnected with an old friend. We met in 7th grade (or, as we say in Canada, grade 7) and were close friends through high school. We stayed close through college, even though we went to school far away from one another, in a time that predates email. We remained in contact over the years, but although we live in the same city, we had not seen one another in 6 or 7 years. I had a lot of anger during those years apart, wondering why we were estranged.

The beauty of a 25 year friendship is the history, and the fact that the years can recede in seconds. Our conversation was a blend of past and present, reminiscing and discussing the here and now.

The most startling revelation by N was that I dumped him as my senior prom date a mere 2 weeks prior to prom. Really? This particular memory was not part of my mental memory trove. But the story was credible. We had decided to go to the prom together, then I ended up with a boyfriend, and ended up going to the prom with him, while N took a mutual friend of ours to prom. In my mind, it wasn't a big deal. I mean, we were going "as friends" and he ended up going with a friend anyhow and...

Excuses, excuses. I felt awful! I still do. Every 80s movie imaginable has THE GIRL who does this sort of thing to her best guy friend, the one who is not-so-secretly pining for her. I AM NOT THAT GIRL in the movie of my life. I'm Sam in 16 Candles, not Caroline (Haviland Morris)! I'm Veronica in Heathers, not one of the Heathers!

20 years out of highschool, but it's never over...

Old Man Running

Most days as I return home after preschool drop off, I see an old(er) man (I'm guessing he's at least 65) jogging. He doesn't always wear the same outfit, but it is always some variation of the following: Hawaiian shirt (button down), and knee length (Bermuda?) shorts. In other words, nothing he wears, except for his running shoes, in any way resembles fitness gear. He is bespectacled, jogs at a snail's pace and has poor running form. But he is out there, nearly every day, running. I don't know how many miles he runs or how long he takes, but he is lapping me just by being out there.

Quality vs. Quantity

M wrote in her blog about daily blog posting diluting the quality of the writing. I've been thinking a lot about that. I sort of agree. But I also think that the pressure to write every day can spur creativity in a way that just doesn't happen without the pressure.

It also got me thinking about quality vs. quantity. I read again and again in parenting books that what kids really want is quality time with their parents. I think that is B.S. There's no free lunch. Yes, they want quality time, but they also want quantity time. And I think we want the same thing of all of our relationships. In a pinch, we'll take quality over quantity. But both is really optimal.

As a blog reader, I value good writing. But I also tire of bloggers who post intermittently. I end up abandonning blogs when I check back again and again and again and find nothing new. I want quality AND quantity.

Welcome to Holland

An amazing writer named Emily Perl Kingsley wrote a piece called "Welcome To Holland" about the experience of raising a child with a disability. It is such an inspiring essay and can be applied to any loss in life. I cry every time I read it.
Here's the link: http://www.our-kids.org/Archives/Holland.html

Random

I could eat pizza every day. I often do.
I don't believe in astrology, but I'm a classic Aries.
I miss distance running.
Most of the time I'd rather eat off of the kids menu.
I love animals, but I don't want to be friends with all of them.
I'm judgemental of people who don't recycle.
I'm judgemental in general.
Thank you cards are important to me. But I'm still waaaay behind with mine.
Sees soft centered milk chocolates are a gift from God. And my husband.
I'm a creature of habit.
I love breakfast for dinner, and pasta for breakfast.
I have a love-hate relationship with psychobabble.
I love to give gifts.
I love Kundalini yoga- even the chanting.
I love exploding bubblegum- the kind with syrup in the center.
I would do anything for my kids. Anything.

Simply meant to be

Yesterday in the car, I was stopped at a red light briefly behind a car with one of those vanity license plate frames. It said "Slee & Shlee- Simply Meant to Be!"

I spent the rest of my drive home pondering who Slee and Shlee are- where the nicknames came from, what they look like, how long they've been together. Are they gay or straight? Are they silly, private joke nicknames, or are they abbreviations of their married names- Sherry Lee and Sam Lee, for example. Or Soon-Yi Lee and Shawn Lee. Or Sandy Lee and Shepard Lee. Or Shaniqua Lee and Simon Lee? Or Sheryl Lee and Samantha Lee? The combinations are infinite.

What do two people who make grand public gestures of love (well, as grand as any declaration on a Nissan can be) have in common? What do they fight about? What are their hobbies? What are their jobs? Are they waiting impatiently for an adoption to go through? Saving their money for a trip to Angkor Wat? Hosting boy scout meetings? Walking their four Weimerauners? Compulsively cleaning their condo? Do they share the Nissan in question? And if not, which one of them drives it? Do their desks at work reflect their "meant to be" status, with trinkets and framed pictures and mylar balloons?

Since I have small children, the opportunities for people watching have receded as I focus my attention to my children's whereabouts and safety. Behind the wheel, running errands, reading license plate frames is what it's come to.

Fatigued Slacker

Oh, and I know I'm the one who suggested this particular blog challenge, and I accept that I have twice now missed posting. I wish I could say it was writer's block, but I have had more to write about than ever. My mind has been swimming with material, so much so that I have trouble falling back asleep in the middle of the night after the little one is up.


Right now I am propping my eyelids up just to get this thought down. My life wears me out. It is filled with happiness and turmoil and overscheduling and hard work and joy. The biggest challenge-among MANY- facing me most days is staying awake later than my kids.

There isn't enough caffeine in the world...

Easter

It just occurred to me how bittersweet the last 3 Easters have been.

2 years ago, V was still in the NICU. We had a lovely Easter at home with C, but it was sad because our baby wasn't home.

Last year, we had a fun Easter with the girls, but V was in the midst of genetic testing, and we were pretty much stressed out of our minds not knowing what was "wrong" with our girl.

This year both girls are really into it. The 4 of us decorated eggs together and the girls met the Easter Bunny (at Americana). It's going to be the best Easter yet, but the shadow of weaning is darkening the festivities somewhat. V doesn't understand why, and sometimes I don't either. I just want to make my kids happy, and it is utterly heartbreaking that I am responsible for making her cry and cry and cry.

(I think I should change the title of this blog to "Wish me luck".)

Transformation Central!

Change is coming, and it feels good!

The little one is getting it- going to sleep on her own, not quite sleeping through the night, but working on it. Weaning has started, and while it isa challenging, trying time, and an emotional time (mentally and hormonally- I'm all over the place here, people!), it is also a hopeful one. I'm starting to see a future with a tiny bit of time carved out for ME. I'm seeing evenings knitting in front of the TV, time spent with my husband, EXERCISE, more time to write (!)... OK, I don't want to get carried away, but the possibilities are enticing.

The most enthralling prospect is the possibility of actually sleeping through the night one day soon... for the first time in more than two and a half years. SERIOUSLY! Now that I'm getting closer to having some semblance of sleep, I'm realizing the extent that sleep deprivation has eroded my life. Always feeling foggy, very often angry, run-down, impatient... I'm euphoric at the prospect of sleep.

In related transformative news, I finally used the box of hair color that has been sitting in my bathroom drawer for months. No more grey! That in itself is an Easter miracle! And go myself to the nearest barbershop for a trim. I'm moving towards new woman territory!

OK, I know it is sacriledge to blog about the mundane- what you eat, drink, errands- the boring stuff that makes up everyday life. But at this point in my life, this stuff is the stuff of possibility and excitement.

Wish me luck

Wish me luck as I embark on a parenting milestone/challenge of epic proportions: weaning AND sleep training the little one. Although it is bittersweet, it's also time. So this weekend/next week/God forbid the following week you can expect my posts to either be exceedingly long and philosophical, or, more likely, curt and angry. Or, exhausted and sad.

Celebrity Crushes

1. Kiefer Sutherland: He's Canadian, he's a good actor, but, let's cut to the chase- he is damned sexy. Normally smoking and DUIs would be double deal breakers, but I'd make an exception for Jack Bauer. Oops, I mean Kiefer.

2. Ed Helms: (aka Andy from "The Office") He is so very funny, so vulnerable, so adorable. My husband is aghast that I picked him. He thinks it reflects poorly on him that I have crushes on nerds.

Wow, can that really be all I've got? Updates pending, people...

Hang on

If you're the praying kind, please say some extra special prayers for a little guy named Tucker and his family. He is currently in the NICU, making progress, but still in need of lots of luck and positive energy. His maternal grandmother just had a stroke. This family is going through more than their fair share and I am crossing fingers that all goes well for this sweet family. You can check out his progress at hangontucker.blogspot.com . Thanks.

I'm working on it

I was on such a roll, posting every day, some days twice. Then I wrote the novella of blog posts on Sunday. On Monday, I wrote nothing. I guess it was just blog-exhaustion. In any case, it provided me the opportunity to ponder perfection and my constant quest for it.

Over the weekend, our 7 year old neighbor had a seizure. The family is Orthodox, and they had to get permission from the Rabbi to drive to the hospital. It made me contemplate a whole lot. Firstly, obviously how tenuous and precious health is, and how we never appreciate it when we have it. I implore you, please take a moment today to truly accept what a huge gift your health is, and take a minute to enjoy it. You may feel too fat, too short, too wrinkled, too old, too tired... but if you are breathing without assistance, if you are medication free, if you can walk... oh, the list is endless when it comes to gratitude. But my point is that it is really the simple things that we should be embracing.

It also made me contemplate the nature of community, and about how absent it is in LA. Is it absent everywhere else too? I really miss exchanging more than a polite hello with the neighbors. We were so happy to have the opportunity to help our neighbors over the weekend, and it opened up a tiny bit of a relationship. I'm grateful for that, although I hate that it came at the expense of their child's health.

The need to call the Rabbi highlighted the perfectionist issue for me. I hate that they felt they had to make that call before just hopping into a car to care for their son. I obviously am missing an understanding of that culture, but for me, it was a lesson in seeing the forest for the trees. Is that an apt metaphor? I too get so caught up in the rules sometimes that I miss the whole point.

I'm working on it.

I will never forget March 28th

Two years ago today, we brought V home from her 2 month stay in the hospital. I learned a lot from the experience, although I am resentful that this knowledge came at the expense of my baby, and our family. 2 years later and I still can't wrap my mind around "everything happens for a reason". Don't ever tell that to a parent of a child on life support.

So many memories come flooding back, although truth be told, they were never far from my mind. The first time in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. Learning to wash our hands properly. Waiting by the incubator every day for doctors to round. The crash course in medical lingo: gavage, CPAP, nasal cannula, G-tubes, hep-lock, PDA, PFO, hydronephrosis, ROP, room air, parenteral (not parental) nutrition, NG tube, bradycardia or bradys... Changing the smallest diaper- a preemie size diaper nearly falling off of the tiniest bottom imaginable. The tears. The tears. The tears.

Every day brought new emotions which I won't stoop to compare to a roller coaster. Because a roller coaster is a fun thrill ride, and it's voluntary. This was hell on earth, albeit with moments of pure beauty and grace. She gained 3 ounces- wonderful! Then, machines beeping, a team rushes in, has she stopped breathing? Is her heart still beating? Starting out in Bay 1- the most acute cases. Moving to bay 6- victory, she's getting better! Pumping breast milk every 3 hours, crying in the pumping room, divided by a cloth partition from the other moms. We could all hear one another crying, and often that was enough to set the rest of us off too. We were as supportive as we could be, considering we were all in need of serious support ourselves.

Occasionally I'd make a friend- another mom who had a baby clinging to life. The first woman I spoke to in the NICU was so nice, and I envisioned us getting our babies together for playdates when everyone was OK. Then he died, which I found out from behind that cloth partition in the pumping room. She was sobbing to her mom, discussing the donation of his organs. Pumping must have been sheer torture. I cried silently and thanked God it wasn't our girl.

Then there was the family who always brought the nannies to see their preemie, rarely ever the mom. I was disgusted. Did they not realize the gravity of the situation? Did they not care about their baby as I cared about mine? I later discovered that the reason the baby was born early was because the mom developed cancer which had completely metastasized. They had to take the baby early because the mom was dying. She wasn't visiting him in the NICU because she was in her own hospital room, and it wasn't on the maternity ward. Nothing is as it seems.

My rage was channelled at parents of other babies in V's bay. The parents of twins who tried to convince the doctors to keep their babies longer because of the childcare, even as they got dressed up, hair/makeup, and went out to dinner every night. The poor foster baby who was evidently in the NICU because of his mom's drug abuse. The dad who spent the whole time by his son's incubator on his cellphone, even though cellphone use was not allowed.

Then there were the families who broke my heart: the teenaged mom who didn't have money or a clue, the poor immigrant family who barely spoke English, the young woman who couldn't handle the stress of the hospital and went back to work 3 days after her daughter's emergency birth. The Orthodox baby who hadn't yet been named, for religious reasons. I kept begging them, in my head, to name him. For some reason I couldn't handle him not having a name.

Every baby was either doing worse or better than ours, and both brought up powerful emotions. Devastation for the families who had kids worse off. And raging jealousy of the families who were pulling through relatively unscathed. Whenever a baby was discharged, the baby was wheeled out in an old fashioned carriage, and everyone (within reason) stopped what they were doing to clap and say congratulations and good luck. It was like a mini parade, a little streak of joy marching through the NICU. Every time I watched a baby go, I clapped louder than anyone, but I also cried harder too. I wanted that to be us so badly. And when it finally happened, I of course couldn't stop crying.

For weeks after V was born, I resisted adding the NICU phone number to my speed dial. I guess it was denial- if I don't accept the number, maybe I won't need it. But we did need it; we called at regular intervals during the rare hours that we weren't at the hospital. And now, 2 years after we left, I still haven't deleted it from my cellphone. I scroll through to find a number sometimes, and stop at the NICU number, contemplating deleting it for once and for all. But I haven't been able to bring myself to do it.

I resent the fact that my 4 year old thinks that all babies start out with tubes down their noses and that they all live in the hospital for months. But the experience has not been without gratitude. Our understanding of the fragility of life is profound now, and although we forget sometimes, like everyone, we always come back to an awareness of HOW. LUCKY. WE. ARE. I think the reason that I don't delete the phone number is that it serves as a reminder of the many amazing doctors, nurses, therapists, etc who devote their lives to taking care of the most fragile among us. And the knowledge that these people are out there brings me intense hope. And when I think back to the shocking generosity of my family (my mom stayed with us for nearly 4 months that year and was inordinately helpful), and my friends (dressing as maids and cleaning my apartment? the memory brings tears to this day) I can definitely see the silver lining.

How will we celebrate our baby today? By doing what every other family does: cajoling the kids into actually eating their dinners, breaking up squabbles over toys, and dressing my daughters dolls in the tiny preemie clothes that my little one wore in the first tenuous months of her beautiful life.

Searching for a direction

It's been days since I've blogged about one of the many awesome people who positively impact my life. I'm changing directions a bit since the inception of this blog (1 week ago! ha!). I'm torn, as I want to continue to acknowledge amazing people, but at the same time, the structure of writing about awesome people every day sometimes feels like a machine, and also a vitamin. And I hate doling out vitamins. Not that anyone's reading this, but...

However, since today is my Grandma's birthday, and since she is an innately awesome person, I must celebrate her a bit. She had 9 kids in 20 years, one of whom died at age 5 of leukemia. There was very little money to go around, but evidently lots of love, as my mom and aunts and uncles all adore her to this day. She is a grandmother to 19, great grandmother to 18. She never misses a birthday or Christmas (8 kids + 19 grandkids + 18 great grandkids= 45 people! And I'm sure she acknowledges other friends/family too!). She is exceedingly patient with all of the kids. She is warm and funny and easy to be around. We're lucky to have such a cool matriarch in this family.

time to burn

Enough has been written, continues to be written, about Tiger Woods and Jesse James and their wandering penises. (Is is peni- like the plural for Elvis- Elvi? Or walruses- walrei?)

But I can't help but add my 2 cents. Both of these guys have small children. I have small children. I don't have a freakin' second to myself. True, I'm typing right now, but it's 5 am and I have a two year old in my lap. Not exactly alone time.

My point is, who has time to burn? If you have time to have an affair, you have too much time on your hands. Idle hands are the devils tools after all. But how did they find the time in the first place? For one affair, let alone several! For the hundreds of text messages they sent?

If you're on Facebook you find that a lot of people have time to burn. Oh, I'm not talking about the people who post a couple of status updates each week. I'm talking about the people playing Farmville and Bejewelled (?) and Petville and Gardenville and Farkle (what the fark is farkle anyhow? I don't know- I don't have time to investigate!). I can't help myself- I judge these people! I don't think they're horrible people, I just can't help thinking they have too damned much time on their hands. And I'm jealous. I want some of that time!

What would YOU do with more time?

grey envy?

I swear this actually happened. I couldn't invent this if I tried.

An older gentleman approached me today. He said "I've been admiring your hair and had to come closer to get a better look. It looks even better up close". I thanked him. He continued, "I'm an artist and I've been marvelling over the colors in your hair and how beautifully they blend together. My wife is over there and she is really struggling with going grey. I'd love to show her your hair to give her an idea of how good grey can look."

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have enough grey that even old people notice from across the park.

What else is there to say?

Guilt

I thought that taking time each day to acknowledge wonderful people would be a good thing. I certainly meant for it to be. But now I'm bogged down with guilt over who I haven't yet included. Will they be hurt that I haven't mentioned them yet? Are people taking stock of the order in which they are acknowledged? That some days I list lots of things I love about someone, and other days I write about just one quality?

It was only a matter of time before my neuroses kicked in.

Beauty is as beauty does

I had exciting plans for this morning- a facial! It's been 4 years since I've had a facial, and I need it. OK, so I don't need it. Need is poverty and famine and disease. But I do need to rejuvenate lest I have a little breakdown from attending to everyone else's needs constantly.

I finally booked the appointment, and literally no sooner had I booked the aesthetician and babysitter, we got an opportunity to get V in to see the new endocrinologist- at the exact same time as my facial! This endocrinologist is in high demand, extremely busy. It was going to take us months to get an appointment. We couldn't pass this up.

But what are the odds on the frickin' timing? I am not an overly vain person. 4 years, people! And it's been 4 months since I've had my hair cut or colored and I've turned into a damned silver fox. OK, not even a fox. Just a dilapidated version of my former self.

But this coincidental timing thing was too much for me to take yesterday. It just underlined the fact that these appointments define our lives now and that there is no room for me.

The whole beauty question gives me pause. I live in a city defined by vanity. My friends out here are disproportionately beautiful. When I was auditioning full time, or working on a show, I was in the beauty groove- gym, hair, makeup, facials, fashion, etc etc etc. When you're on that train, you notice every flaw. Now that I'm a mom, my kids needs supercede my need to look good. Natural is better, right? Who needs makeup, hair color... My kids and husband love me for me... These thoughts seem to last until my roots have grown in an inch or more. Then I have an alarming reality check. I. Just. Look. Old.

The idea of transformation is such a part of our culture at the moment. Like "The Biggest Loser"- it wouldn't be an interesting show if they just needed to lose 10 pounds. Doing things on a grand scale is what it's all about. I think I do the same thing with the whole grooming thing. I live for the transformation that comes when I enter grey and leave looking 10 years younger. I'm the reason all of those TLC shows exist.

We went to the appointment, navigated a new hospital, met a new team of doctors. Dr. G seems great- wonderful with the little one, communicative with us. He comes highly, highly recommended, both by doctors and patients.

My disappointment was short lived. I have a facial to look forward to in 2 weeks. Now, to figure out my hair... My big girl, the most awesome of awesome people, gives me the benefit of the doubt and sees my grey as blonde. Whenever she plays with a blonde doll, she calls it the mom doll. She is the most beautiful creature in the world and I hope she always knows it. Right now she is blissfully oblivious to beauty, the rare girl who doesn't play princess. She doesn't care about her hair, doesn't care about anyone's looks.

I could look at her all day.

So lonely

Best. Song. Ever.

And also how I've been feeling. The particular predicament of our family leaves me feeling constantly isolated. I see people at school getting together so casually, constant playdates, the easy rapport between parents, and I want to cry. The little one has so many therapies and appointments which keep us on a tighter schedule than others. It breaks my heart that I'm not providing the big girl more social opportunities. It's triage- attending to the most serious issue at all times. I try to balance it out, but I'm failing every day.

The upside to this isolation is that my kids are doing so amazingly great that I also feel isolated from people who are going through a lot with their kids. I don't want to complain about how hard it is for us, when we have friends with kids who have serious challenges.

Having friends over for the first time in ages on Saturday was definitely soul- refreshing. And R's return after 5 days away is exactly what I need. He is such a wonderful partner, fantastic daddy- a GOOD MAN. He is hard working, creative, a good listener, amazing cook, attentive husband... And one of the most awesome people I know.

I know, gag me, right? After 10 years I'm not supposed to still appreciate and adore him so. But what's not to like? I can accept that listing off the patently awesome people in my life- kids, husband, friends- is probably pretty boring for the 3 people who are reading this. Sorry, suckas. They may be obvious, but they are obviously AWESOME!!! In a couple of weeks it'll really get interesting...

Birds of a feather...

Our writers group is utterly precious, and I adore each of the women as individuals as well as the 4 of us as a group. Right now I can't stop laughing at the fact that K & I both locked ourselves out of our OWN DAMN BLOGS on day 2 of this little adventure. M is probably deliberately deleting her account as I type, and S... Does S ever make a mistake? Hmmmmmm. Seriously doubtful. Which brings me to 2 awesome people I need to acknowledge: S & K. S because of AND despite her inability to err, and K for so gracefully laughing, especially when the joke's on her. (as well as a zillion other reasons- all of you!)

"The only disability is a bad attitude"

Up at 5:30 this morning, pleased that I'd have some time to write this blog before the big girl got up. Full of inspiration and energy, I fed the little one, then sat down to write. And I couldn't log on. "Invalid password" again and again. I knew it was right. I just set up the account yesterday. I tried and tried and tried, to no avail.

Needless to say, my attitude needed an adjustment. Then, I read my dear friend's blog, in which she detailed her irritation and need for an attitude adjustment. Which reminded me of Scott Hamilton's words, "The only disability is a bad attitude".

I think I first came upon these words in the context of "special needs" kids. Conjuring images of the short bus and alienation. I am super sensitive about special needs. So sensitive that I'm not ready to write about it yet.

So for now, thank you M for reminding me that the color of my day is always in my hands. It was a hard day, but a pretty good one, and I can thank my pretty, funny, talented, runner-Mommy-writer friend for steering me in the right direction. M, you're an awesome person!

Oh, and the password? It was right. The login name (one that I chose only 1 day ago) was wrong. ENTIRELY my mistake. So, K, we all have blonde moments. And, S, I'm writing this fully dressed. I'll have to warm up to blogging before I let it all hang out...

Spring is sprung, another tantrum begun...

The start of spring, the start of 30 days of blogging. The Little One woke up at 3am, and while she was up I plotted my first blog entry. It sounded so good! (At 3 am. In my head.) I envisioned the kids playing quietly while I typed and enjoyed a chai latte.

-REALITY CHECK- What was I thinking? Have I ever (in the last 4 years and 10 months) experienced so much as 5 minutes for an uninterrupted email?

This is how the morning is ACTUALLY playing out:

5:30am- The Little One is up. Putting her fingers in my nose to wake me up. Repeatedly. Then diaper time. I leave the room for one brief moment to dispose of said diaper. I return to her scribbling all over the couch in HOT PINK marker.

A handful all morning. I'm exhausted by 7am. But my meditation on letting go of perfectionism is working to... perfection!

Sooooooo, my goal here is to spend a little time each day writing about the awesome people who make my life so wonderful. The plan is that this will help balance out the inordinate amount of complaining and WHY ME-ing I do on a daily basis.

My awesome person today is my dear 2 year old. Although she has challenged me beyond all measure this morning, she also provides me with untold joy each and every day. A jollier smile has never been seen, and her giggle is to die for. It is astonishing to me that a kid that has spent such a solid fraction of her young life in the hospital has perhaps the sunniest attitude of anyone. I have a lot to learn from her and I'm awfully glad she's my girl.