The Mommy Diaries

Saying Goodbye to Darby

2008-08-29T07:41:00.000-07:00

I am so sad. I am sitting here at ten minutes until 8 in the morning waiting for the vet's office to open so that I can call and tell them that I think the time has come to put Darby out of her misery. My poor, sweet kitty is just too ill. It has been hard for me to come to terms with it, but I just can't ignore the signs anymore. Yesterday she didn't even get off the couch -- not to eat, not to use the litter box, nothing. She can barely move. I don't want her in pain or discomfort. After 15 years together, it's time for us to say goodbye. I don't know how I am going to do it.

See You in September

2008-08-20T20:11:00.000-07:00

August has been a weird month. On one hand, we've had a chance to relax. The four of us spent a week at the cabin together, and now I am back here with just the girls for another week. On the other hand, I've been busy with getting ready for back to school, meeting architects for the new house, and getting into my new role as Marketing Chair for S's preschool. I am definitely ready for September to arrive though. While I looove summer, by the end of August I long for the return of routine that September brings. I didn't used to be like this, but as they say, having children changes everything.

I may be biting off more than I can chew, but I have put together a pretty involved schedule for the fall. S has preschool Monday through Thursday afternoons. She also has speech therapy Tuesday and Thursday mornings. Then I have both girls in some fun activities. L is going to start gym class on Monday mornings and S is going to continue ballet on Wednesdays. I found an art class that will take kids from 18 months through 5 years old, so I've enrolled them both on Friday mornings. Finally, I want L to have more one-on-one time with her dad (S already gets more than L, just by virtue of her age), so on Saturday morning R is going to take her to music class while I take S to a different class for older kids. Somewhere in there, I am going to have to find time for my workouts.

Now that I see it all spelled out, it really does seem like a lot. I actually don't believe in having kids' schedules filled with activities every day; they really need to have some down time in order to spur their imaginations, foster creativity and instill self-reliance. We'll see how it goes this fall; if it gets to be too much, we'll cut something from the schedule.

Either way, I am just glad to get back to a routine. August has been nice, but I am ready to see September.

Happy 4th Birthday!

2008-07-31T07:57:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday to my big girl. I can't believe that four years have passed since you came into the world. I remember the joy and awe and outright fear I felt when you were born. I wondered how in the world I would ever take care of you and give you all that you deserved. Believe me, I try so hard to be a parent worthy of you. But, that you've turned into this unbelievable little girl is far beyond what I can take credit for. All of a sudden my little baby has become a funny, sensitive, loving, smart and beautiful little girl. You have your own thoughts, interests, likes and dislikes. It happened before my very eyes without me even noticing.

I wish you a wonderful year ahead. I hope it is filled with laughter. I hope you make lots of new friends and find a special one to replace N. I hope you keep the wonder with which you approach the world for another year. I hope you continue to believe in unicorns, princesses, and magic. I hope you keep believing that your parents are some kind of omnipotent super heroes instead of the regular, flawed people we are.

Happy birthday, my sweet girl. Mama loves you more than you'll ever comprehend.

Vacation at the Jersey Shore!

2008-07-30T07:11:00.001-07:00

I have been on a little vacation from blogging for the past two weeks. Why? We took a vacation! I took the girls back to NJ to spend a week at the Jersey shore with my folks. Hubby had to work, so he couldn't join us. It was a bummer, because I wish he could have seen how much fun the girls had, but we took some great pics. And of course, my parents were beside themselves with glee over having the two little rugrats all to themselves. We packed a ton of fun into just eight days.

Actually, before we headed down the shore (that's Jersey-speak for "headed to the beach") we took the train up to New York and went to the American Girl Place. S luuuvvvved it. My folks bought her a doll and she got to bring her to lunch at the American Girl Cafe where the waitstaff arranges a placesetting for your doll with appopriately-sized china. At four years old, S is just at the cusp of the entire American Girl demographic -- so I see several years ahead of us filled with the dolls, their accessories, movies, and whatever else they come up with. And then of course multiply that by two once the baby gets old enough to appreciate the stuff too! I guess if they're going to be obsessed with a set of dolls though, it could be worse. A lot worse. At least they're not Bratz dolls.

Anyway, we had a great day in the NYC and the next day we headed down to Ocean City, NJ to my folks' summer house where I spent every summer since I was a pre-teen. Ocean City is one of those quintessential family towns. It is an actual island connected to the mainland by a series of bridges. And it is one of the few towns at the shore that is dry -- as in no alcohol sold there at all. Not in liquor stores, not in restaurants, nowhere. As a teenager, this was kind of a bummer, particularly if you wanted to waitress: tips at restaurants that don't serve alcohol are nowhere near as generous as those that do. But now as a parent, I really appreciate this fact; it really keeps a family element to the place and limits any "seedier" elements. In fact, Ocean City calls itself "America's Greatest Family Resort."

I don't know about that, but the girls did have a great time there. They crammed all the essential summer experiences into just a few days: played on the beach, searched for seashells, adopted a couple of hermit crabs, ate ice cream, Italian ice, and salt water taffy on the boardwalk, and enjoyed the rides at the amusement pier. It was really special for me to revisit the shore and see it through their eyes. S loved the boardwalk and couldn't understand why there wasn't one in every town. They both loved digging in the sand. Neither was too sure about the waves.

Like all vacations, this one had to end. We said goodbye to the shore and promised to come back another summer. Even though I've been living in California for more than fourteen years, I am still a Jersey Girl -- I'll always carry a little of the Jersey shore with me. Now hopefully, my native Californian daughters will too.

I Live Strong

2008-07-13T20:17:00.000-07:00

I hate running. Hate it. Don't like the way it feels, have trouble justifying a reason for it. No matter how many times I've tried to like it, I just can't seem to get myself to convert. So what would inspire me to run today? Cancer.

Okay, I'll admit it, I didn't run the entire way, but I did run through the finish at the Livestrong Challenge 5K Run/Walk in San Jose. I ran through the survivor lane at the finish line proudly sporting my "survivor" bib which boasted my 11 year win against cancer.

This is the first race for cancer that I've done in a long time. I believe the last one I did was when I was still living in Los Angeles, not long after I finished chemo. But this year, when Ana at Silicon Valley Moms Blog suggested getting a team together, I jumped at it. In addition to all the bike distances, it included a 5K run/walk which sounded just perfect for me.

You know, I don't think about my cancer much any more. It's been 11 years since I finished chemo. Those have been years full of... well, life. Since that time I reconnected with the man who would become my husband, fell in love with him, moved to the Bay Area, got married, made a career shift, had a baby, bought a house, waded through a dizzying IPO, left the workforce, and had another baby. There just hasn't been much time to dwell on cancer. It no longer holds the prominence in my life that it once did. However, every now and again it pushes through to the surface. This weekend was one of those times. Yesterday when I went to pick up my race registration packet, and saw all of these people, both volunteers and participants, dedicated to the cause, I became completely overwhelmed with emotion. All of a sudden I was crying, unable to contain my feelings. And today when I was at the race and saw other survivors, like fellow SVMoms blogger Linsey, I was thoroughly filled with pride.

Cancer picked a fight with me 11 years ago, and I won. Today I picked a fight with cancer for all those who didn't win.

I participated in honor of:
Eli Caccia
Jennifer Goodman Linn

And in memory of:
Amalia Grandy
Aldo Caccia
Divo Petrini
Jim Welch

Thanks to the friends and family who helped me to raise $1,500 for the fight. And thanks to Ana and Linsey for participating with me.

As they say over at the Lance Armstrong Foundation: Go ahead. Pick a fight.

Erring on the Side of Caution

2008-07-10T19:53:00.000-07:00

I had a disturbing incident this week -- I am not sure if I was being an alarmist, but I feel like I made the only decision I could.

I sent S to camp this week at one of the local parks. Camp ran from 9-12:30pm every day; parents were invited to join at noon during the kids' lunch time. So, on Monday I showed up at about 12:15 and the kids were eating lunch with the counselors. At that point, one of the counselors did a headcount and realized that they were missing a child. Another counselor said, "Oh yeah, I think his mom picked him up a while ago". It was a disturbing couple of minutes before the counselors sorted through the confusion and determined that the parent had picked up the child and signed him out. It was an okay outcome but, a little disconcerting to think that the counselors weren't as on top of it as they should have been. However, S had had fun that day and it seemed like a minor glitch, so I had no second thoughts about sending her back on Tuesday.

On Tuesday my mother-in-law went to go pick S up at lunchtime. As she was coming down the steps to the lower part of the park (this particular park is split into lower and upper levels), she saw a little girl walking down the steps all by herself with no one looking out for her. It turned out it was S. As best as she could determine (and what I could glean from S), the counselors led the kids up to the bathrooms to wash up before lunch, but no one was watching to make sure that the kids got back to the lower part of the park. As far as we could tell, there was no one watching from above to make sure she got down okay, nor was there anyone watching from below. That made me really uncomfortable. This is a particularly big park, and it's not possible to see the path from the bathrooms if you're in the back part of the lower park. S isn't even four years old yet, and I just don't want her going anywhere without a pair of eyes on her at all times.
So, the incident on Tuesday combined with the incident on Monday really sat poorly with me. The level of supervision that I am used to from her nursery school just wasn't there. In addition, S is one of the quieter kids. If an outgoing kid was missing, it would likely go noticed much more quickly than if my quiet kid was missing. I just felt "icky" about the whole thing.

Anyway, I decided not to send S back. I also called the woman in charge at our city RWC parks department and told her the entire story. To their credit, the counselors had already told her about the Monday incident. She was very receptive to my concerns about the Tuesday thing and promised that she would make the counselors aware. She was very cooperative and concerned, and I truly believe that she has discussed this with the counselors.

I still have mixed feelings about the camp. I still think they're a great program for kids. This is the first time in three years of using the our city's recreation services that I have had less than an excellent experience. I just think that perhaps my kid is too young for this kind of camp. Perhaps we'll try again when my girls are a little older. It's funny, but when I told a bunch of other moms about this, it turns out that several had similar experiences and decided the same thing: to postpone camps until at least five years old. I wish I had known this previously! The problem with raising first kids is that sometimes you just don't know what you don't know, and you don't know which questions to ask. Poor S is my guinea pig and even though I try to do right by her at all times, it's just unavoidable that at times I am going to make missteps. Hence the mother's guilt persists despite the best of intentions.

A Final Tribute

2008-07-05T13:42:00.000-07:00

Today I gave the only eulogy at my grandmother's funeral. I was nervous about getting up there and doing it justice. But my dear and wise husband gave me a piece of advice. He said that when he had to give his own grandmother's eulogy (just nine months ago) and was getting nervous, he reminded himself that the eulogy was the last gift he could give to her. That thought helped him to refocus his thoughts away from him and his nerves, and toward her all she meant to him. What a wonderful piece of advice. He's a smart man. It was exactly what I needed to hear to help me -- and it worked.

I am proud of the eulogy that I gave to her. It really was a last gift, and I am going to post it here as a last tribute to her.
***********
For those who don’t know me, my name is Courtney Caccia and I am one of Victoria’s granddaughters.

For the past couple of days, I’ve been trying to figure out what I was going to say to all of you here. I wasn’t sure how to express what my grandmother meant to me, to our family. How do you take just a couple of minutes do justice to a woman who lived almost 91 years?

As I was reminiscing and pulling up old memories, I naturally started thinking about her house – the house she lived in for the past 50 years, the only house I had known her to live in during my lifetime. In my mind, I started revisiting each of those rooms. And it occurred to me, that each one held memories that seemed to characterize some part of her personality.

So, let me just share with you a few of the memories that Grandmom’s house evokes for me.

The living room. One of the first things a visitor would see were all the pictures in that room, mostly of the grandchildren, and later the great grandchildren. Grandmom was so proud of all of us. As a kid, I remember hearing her brag to her friends about our grades, awards, and athletic accomplishments. I remember the pictures going up the staircase. As each of the five of us grandchildren graduated from high school, we achieved a spot on that wall with the pictures updated as we graduated college or got married. Grandmom loved being a grandmother and a great grandmother and her living room was testament to that.

It was also testament to her fastidious nature as evidenced by the plastic on the furniture. Oh yes, for all the years of my life she had plastic on the furniture – the couch may have changed, but the plastic did not. I remember hanging out in that room with my sister and cousins in the summer time, and yelping as we stood up and tried to peel the backs of our legs from the plastic. Grandmom may have loved us and been proud of us, but she wasn’t about to let us dirty her furniture!

The dining room. Some of my fondest memories from growing up are family dinners spent around her dining room table, most notably our Christmas Eve dinners. Grandmom and Grandpop, and later Aunt Amalia would put together a traditional feast of seven fishes for Christmas Eve. It was important to her that her family appreciate their Italian heritage and she tried heartily to pass along some of the traditions to her children and grandchildren. I remember the days of prep work before the big feast, and when I was old enough being sent there with either my sister or my cousin Christine to help her out. It was important to Grandmom that she make some of the traditional dishes like the risotto with squid or the baccala, but she also would go out of her way to make something else for the pickier eaters among us – because to her, while the food was important, the tradition of being together as a family was most important. And over the years, she and my aunt would invite friends to join us for dinner, extending her hospitality to include others in a family tradition she so cherished.

And that leads me to Grandmom’s kitchen. That is the room of the house that I most associate with her. She showed her love best through food. Her way of nurturing you was to feed you. That woman could take any remaining scraps of food left in her refrigerator, and in 10 minutes lay out a feast for you. And when she wasn’t feeding you, she wanted to make sure you were eating. Even up to one of the last times I talked to her, she asked if I was eating okay – I am 37 years old, living in California with a husband and two daughters of my own. Somehow, I’ve managed to take care of myself all this time. But she still wanted to make sure I was eating. It was her way of telling me that she cared and still worried about me no matter how old or capable I might be.

The last room I’ll mention is Grandmom’s bedroom. When I was a little kid, that room seemed so special and almost magical to me with all of her jewelry, perfume bottles, and makeup. She had an old fashioned carved hairbrush and comb sitting on a mirrored tray that my sister and I used to think looked like it belonged to a princess. She had a box of costume jewelry that she would let us play dress up with. But, that room must also have been a sanctuary for her – a place for quiet reflection and prayer. It was peppered throughout with symbols of her faith: images of Jesus, statues of the Blessed Mother, rosaries. Grandmom was a faithful Catholic and I think she sought grace and peace in that room.

I have so many other recollections of her – there are some familiar to many of you like the way in which she would mangle the English language or the way in which she kept the television up to ear-splitting volumes. And there are recollections more personal like when at 79 years old she flew all the way to California to visit me, her ill granddaughter. And these memories represent but a tiny fraction of the person who was my grandmother. My grandmother was a woman who knew hardships: she was a child of the Depression, at times struggled to keep her family afloat, lived as a widow for more than 30 years, and buried two of her own children. But she knew great joy too. She married, got to watch her daughters grow up, and see her grandchildren come into this world. She was lucky enough to witness the births of nine great grandchildren! She cherished her close relationships with her siblings. She had lifelong friends. She was devoted to her church.

All of you here today are witness to my grandmother’s long, rich life. She came to the end of her days loved by her friends and four generations of her family. Each of us who loved her have our own treasured memories. While we are all here to say farewell to her, let us each celebrate her life and the special person she was through those remembrances.

Thank you for coming to honor my grandmother.

Grandmom, I’ll always love you and never forget you.

June 27, 2008
St. Timothy's Church
Philadelphia, PA

Still a House, No Longer a Home

2008-06-25T21:16:00.000-07:00

Today was a tough day. I am here in New Jersey with my parents preparing for my grandmother's funeral. Today my mom and I drove over to my grandmother's house in Philadelphia to start going through some of her things.

It wasn't until I walked into that house that it really hit me that she was gone. She lived in that house for almost sixty years -- it's the only place I've ever known her to live. And every single inch of that house holds some memory for me. I was overcome by them as I made my way through the house. Just being there evoked remembrances that I haven't thought about in years and years.

The house definitely looked the worse for wear. When she was well, she was fanatical about keeping things clean. When my aunt was alive and well, she did all the maintenance. But, the last few years had been hard on them. The house seems sad and neglected: the carpeting on the stairs has holes in it, the wallpaper looks worn and faded, the house lacks the aroma of meatballs or gravy. The house had all of her stuff, but it didn't have her. And so, it seemed empty.

It was a sad day. I think the only positive I found in it is perhaps my inspiration for the eulogy I am to give on Friday. It's a meager silver lining.

The Dreaded Phone Call

2008-06-22T19:18:00.000-07:00

My grandmother died today. It wasn't a surprise. We all knew it was coming soon, but that doesn't make it any easier to take. She was 91 and her health had been failing over the past six months, ever since my aunt (her eldest daughter) died in December. I knew the phone call would be coming soon. It came as I was driving through twisting and turning mountain roads on the way home from the Sierras. I am glad it was my sister who called -- if it had been my mother, I don't think I would have been able to keep my composure behind the wheel.

I last saw Grandma in October. She feared it would be the last time we saw each other, but I kind of buried my head in the sand about that possibility. At that point, I was facing the knowledge that it was to be the last time I would see my aunt alive. I couldn't deal with the idea that I wouldn't see my grandmother again.

I am going to fly home to be with my mom and help her in the next few days as she prepares for the funeral and all of the other details that need attending. The funeral is on Friday, so I'll probably leave on Tuesday. That will give me tomorrow to wrap up all the stuff here that needs to be addressed before I can leave for five days. Fortunately, my in-laws can be ready at a moment's notice to take the girls.

This is the third death in our family in nine months -- R's grandmother, my aunt, and my grandmother. S is starting to wonder why so many of the people in her life are going to Heaven. But in the innocence that only a very young child can possess, she looked at me and asked, "I bet that Bisnonna and the other Bisnonna are talking to each other in Heaven right now." She made herself so happy with that thought. It made me feel a little better too.

You Say "Squirrel", I Say "Surl"

2008-06-13T11:41:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I had my end-of-year conference with S's preschool teacher. In it, I asked her about S's speech. Like lots of kids her age, she has trouble with L and R, but she also has difficulty with what I've since learned are called "s-clusters". That is, if there is an S followed by one or more consonants, she drops the consonant(s). For instance, "snake" sounds like "sake", "spider" sounds like "cider" and my own personal favorite, "squirrel" sounds like "surl". Her teacher recommended that I talk with a speech therapist that she knows (whose kids also went to our preschool). So, earlier this week S and I went for an evaluation with "Teacher Judy".

The main objective of the evaluation was for Judy to listen to S's speech and determine if she would be receptive to speech therapy. I was a little concerned that S would clam up and be too shy to say much. But as a professional, surely Judy has encountered plenty of kids like this. She was great, and knew exactly which tactics to take to draw S out. She started out talking about the preschool, and moved from topic to topic until she found one that S was enthusiastic about (pets). And then she started a conversation with her. I just sat back and watched, not chiming in at all -- very hard for me to do! Next she pulled out a book and showed S pictures and asked her to name them. Each picture represented a word with a different sound. In this way, Judy was able to hear all the sounds she wanted S to make. S just thought it was a fun game and was excited to show off all she knew.

Having seen (or I guess heard) for herself S's problem with s-clusters, she started doing some exercises to get S to pronounce them properly. Her approach is clever: she uses something that appeals to each kid and incorporates it into the therapy. For instance, she saw that S really liked art. So, she used some pens and stickers each time she wanted S to try out a word. What was really impressive was her ability to perceive when S was starting to get sensitive about the exercise; she would then back off, redirect, and try again in a minute or two. I really appreciated that. I could see that S was getting self-conscious and was afraid she would clam up and it would be over; but, Judy saw it too and knew how to handle it. After the session, Judy said that she thought S was very receptive to therapy and she would probably conquer her issues quickly. So we're going to start seeing her for 30 minutes twice a week.

I am glad we're doing this -- which is funny because I started out reticent to have her evaluated at all. For almost a year, we have be wondering about her speech. It's not as if she is unintelligible to other people; she can definitely be understood. We just noticed that other kids didn't seem to have the difficulties that she did with the s-clusters. Our pediatrician and preschool teacher at the time told us that most kids work this out on their own by about 5 or 6 years old, and that we didn't yet need to worry about speech therapy. And that was fine with me. I was content to see if she figured it out on her own. However by the end of this school year, I began to think that maybe we should just have her evaluated. She may very well learn how to say these things properly on her own, but if we can help her do that sooner, why wouldn't we? In addition, I was starting to see the beginnings of the exclusionary social dynamic at preschool. I didn't want her speech to be a source of ridicule or stigma when she gets to kindergarten next year. This way she'll have an entire year to work on it.

So, we'll start therapy next week. My little girl will learn how to say things like "spoon" instead of "shoomy" and "smile" instead of "sile" -- and she'll be that much closer to growing up. Just add it to the list of things I'll miss as she moves out of her baby years into little girlhood.

As Perfect As It Gets

2008-06-04T20:42:00.001-07:00

Today was one of those rare days in parenting when everything seemed to go just right. Wait. Let me say it again: everything today went right. Ah, it feels so good. I don't think I had to threaten, cajole, or raise my voice even once. I had so much fun with the girls today.

It didn't seem promising when I woke up this morning after a restless night: we had a tight schedule for the day which included a berry-picking field trip with S's preschool to which I also had to bring my toddler, L. To top it off, we're going on the fourth day of R being out of town (which generally leaves me unsettled). Suffice to say, I was prepared to be grumpy. But lo and behold, everyone was cheerful, cooperative, and well-behaved -- including me.

Berry-picking was great fun! Each girl had her own bucket in which to carry berries. I didn't expect L to pick her own, and I really wasn't prepared for her incredible display of berry consumption. She must have eaten her weight in strawberries! I started out picking berries for her and dropping them into her bucket -- I assumed she would just carry it around filled with berries. Yeah, nice image, but so far from the truth. As soon as I dropped a berry in there, her chubby little fingers were darting in there to pluck it out and shovel it into her mouth. Then she decided to start picking berries for herself. She ate white ones, she ate the stems, she ate dirt, and even some dried grass. Her hands were stuffing things into her mouth so quickly that I couldn't move fast enough to prevent it. In no time, her hands and mouth were covered in a sticky mixture of berry juice and mud, and her clothes were splattered all over with pink splotches. This picture doesn't even do her justice. She was one grimy little kid! Notice the straw or grass or something hanging out of her mouth.

By the time we got home, we all needed a bath so I filled up the big tub in our bathroom. The three of us climbed in and scrubbed the dirt off of our bodies. Then it was nap time for them, and exercise time for me once the babysitter arrived.

After my workout, I packed them up and took them to Aunt M's for dinner where they played with LS and E. The four of them play so nicely together. Just six months apart, S and E were thick as theives -- at one point M and I looked over to see the two of them with their heads bent close to each other whispering and giggling. It doesn't bode well for us in the future -- M and I are going to have to keep our eyes on these girls. And at almost seven years old, LS is such a little mother hen; I hardly had to watch little L as she was constantly shadowed by her older cousin. After dinner, we threw all four girls into the tub, put on their pajamas, and I took my two back home to bed.

It was a great day -- one of those smooth and idyllic days that give you the fuel you need for the rest of them.

How To Break The News

2008-05-15T07:06:00.000-07:00

S found her very first best friend at preschool this year. He’s the first friend that S chose all on her own. They were in the same class last year, but as two-year olds they really just played near each other instead of with each other. But something magical happens in that fourth year of life: parallel play gives way to cooperative play. When school started last September, S was suddenly playing with other kids in her class; in fact, most of them had made this leap. They were having conversations, and sharing toys, and playing games, and making up stories -- together. The person that S started playing with most often was N.

N and S are really cut from the same cloth. They both tend toward sensitivity, but can be loud and boisterous when they’re feeling happy. They’re both cautious, tending to hang back and watch activities before getting comfortable enough to jump in. They love books. They love little animals like frogs and turtles. They’re both oldest children with toddler-aged siblings who inspire similar levels of protectiveness and frustration in them. Playdates with N are events that are looked forward to with such great anticipation that I’ve started waiting until right before his impending arrival to tell S about it – just to avoid the continuous queries of “When is N getting here?” The last time we spent a weekend away, she worried that N would miss her. At school the two of them giggle and chatter, heads bent toward each other immersed in a world of their own making. They hug when saying goodbye. Today they blew each other kisses as we were leaving school. N is truly my daughter’s first best friend.

And he’s moving away.

His dad got a fabulous new job in another state. The man is literally working on a cure for cancer, so I can hardly begrudge him the opportunity even if it does mean moving a thousand miles away. They’re leaving in less than a month; their house is sold, they’ve bought a new one, and all that is left is the packing up and the goodbyes. And the goodbye part is what I am stuck on: I still haven’t found a way to tell S that N is moving.

I have started laying the groundwork. I’ve gotten a couple of books from the library about best friends moving away. I’ve started telling her things like, “You know, friends are still friends even if they’re far away.” I’ve been encouraging her to make new friends. I’ve basically done everything except come right out and tell her that N is moving. I can’t seem to bring myself to do it. Heartbreak and disappointment will inevitably touch her life – they do for all of us. And there are good lessons to be learned in these situations; I recognize their value. I was just hoping that we could put it off for a little while longer.

So in the meantime I am trying to screw up my courage to deliver my daughter her first heartbreak. I know she’ll get over it. She’ll make new friends; she’ll find another best friend or maybe several of them. But N will always be her first best friend. And I’ll make sure she never forgets him.

Edited from original post to Silicon Valley Moms Blog

Second Guessing

2008-05-08T07:12:00.000-07:00

There are times that it's tough to know which is the right parenting decision. I literally ask myself which choice will have the least likelihood of f'ing up my kids. I had another one of these dilemmas recently: whether or not to let S quit swimming lessons.

She started out swim lessons enthusiastically, running up to the pool with barely contained excitement. She loved her bathing suit, her pretty pink goggles, and her swim teacher. In fact, after the first lesson she told me in the car on the way home that she wanted to be a swim teacher when she grew up. Great, right? She loved every part of it except for the part when she had to stick her face in the water. Seems like an integral part of swimming, doesn't it?

Before the second week, I tried bribing her by telling her that if she put her face in the water when Coach Diana asked, she could have a marshmallow peep -- I even brought it to the pool with me in a little plastic baggie. When the designated time came, I held it up and dangled it to her as a reminder of the reward that awaited her. Yeah, didn't quite have the effect I was looking for. Instead of immediately putting her smiling face in the water, S proceeded to start crying. Turns out that my little bribe just made her anxious -- she really wanted that peep, but really didn't want to put her face in the water. Who knew it would backfire? I've used bribery successfully in the past -- she would not be potty-trained now without the use of carefully doled out jelly beans!

After that incident, Coach Diana suggested that I work with S at home to get her used to the idea of submerging her face. S and I were to get into the tub together in our bathing suits and her goggles, and practice there. Dutifully we did just that, working on our "torpedo arms" (arms straight out ahead of us, as if ready to dive) and our "chipmunk cheeks" (holding our breaths). It went better than expected. After just a little coaxing, she happily put her face in the tub, and even blew bubbles. As we walked into the next lesson, I was silently patting myself on the back completely confident in my success. Turns out that the pool is a lot bigger than my tub. S really, really tried, but after one attempt at the torpedo arms and chipmunk cheeks, she dissolved into tears and cries of "I want my mamma."

With each week she became more and more anxious about putting her face in the water. It was clearly making her upset. So, I had a dilemma. One one hand, I feel that swimming is a skill that kids need to have. I don't consider it a "nice to do" activity like soccer or ballet. S has to learn how to swim. I don't care if she never joins a swim team or learns to butterfly. But, she must learn to be safe in a pool. Plus, I don't really want to encourage her to quit every time something gets difficult. One of the lessons I am really trying to impart is the importance of trying and perseverance. Would letting her quit be counter-productive to that goal? One the other hand, I didn't want her to get so anxious that she would develop a real fear of swimming. I didn't want to push her so hard that she would associate so much anxiety with the activity that I would never get her to swim.

After a lot of internal debate and some discussions with other moms, I decided to back off for now. I explained to her that we could give swimming a rest for a while, and she could try again when she is four (which is just a couple of months away). I think it's the right choice. And she seems fine with the idea of doing it when she's four. I guess we'll try again then...

Escaping to the Sierras

2008-04-25T20:15:00.000-07:00

Ah, relaxation. There is something about a change of scenery that can do wonders for the psyche. We drove up to the cabin this afternoon. It's just three hours away, but it feels like we entered a whole new world. As soon as we leave the highway and get onto Farmington Road, I can feel my entire body relax -- even though we still have another 90 minutes ahead of us. It's just the feeling of disconnecting from the fast pace of the Silicon Valley that comes over me.

It's funny -- it's not like it's an actual vacation. I mean, I still have to do all the same things here that I do at home. I still have to entertain the kids, keep the baby from climbing things/tumbling down the stairs/playing in the toilet, cook for everyone, empty the dishwasher (since my husband's arms are apparently not long enough to stretch from the dishwasher to the cabinets -- or from the sink to the dishwasher, for that matter), do the laundry, make sure that my preschooler wipes and washes hands -- well, you get the picture. But, there is something about being here that makes it all less stressful. Perhaps it's because our cell phones don't work here or that we don't really use the television or that the house is smaller than ours in Redwood City. Maybe it's just that in order to get here, we had to have a clear calendar, and that our only obligations are the most basic ones: to eat, to sleep, to spend time with one another. It could also be the surroundings. They don't call this place Big Trees for nothing. The smell of pine and cedar and fresh air, the humbling vista of trees and mountains, the quiet. It all contributes to an aura of "awayness" that is rejuvenating to the mind, body, and soul.

We'll be going back home on Sunday and plug back into "real life". But until then, we'll enjoy our long walks, time spent together in front of the fire, and leisurely hours of reading. Ah, relaxation.

Going Even a Little Green Is Still Green

2008-04-22T13:03:00.000-07:00

Believe it or not, one of the most sensible philosophies about "going green" that I've ever heard came from none other than Alicia Silverstone. That's right, that Alicia Siverstone, as in Cher Horowitz of Clueless fame. In a radio interview last year, she encouraged folks to start going green by making whatever small efforts they could. It doesn't have to be a grand overhaul to your entire life -- you don't need to suddenly trade in your Land Rover for a Prius, give away all your leather shoes, belts, and bags, and start composting in your kitchen. Instead start small: even if we make just one change, we're doing good. She said, and I agree, that so many people feel daunted by all the steps one can take that they don't do anything at all. Folks think that in order to save the environment we have to do it all: stop using plastic bags, recycle everything, bike to work, use natural cleaning agents, etc. But, even if we just do one thing, like using cloth totes for our groceries, we're doing more than we were previously, and it's another step toward saving the planet.

I really like that approach -- it's enabling. And, I think that once you take a single step and incorporate it into your life, it's easy to add new planet-saving practices to your life. Take recycling, for instance. I remember when municipalities all over the U.S. started incorporating recycling programs into their waste management systems. It was so confusing at the time and seemed like such an extra effort. But now it's such a second-nature thing for so many of us. I think that a lot of the efforts to go green can be that way. In our home, we've switched most of our light bulbs over to CFLs, continue to recycle, bring our own re-usable bags to the grocery store, limit our water usage, eat sustainable seafood, have moved toward fewer plastic toys, and have replaced all of our wood-burning fireplaces. I think the most important thing we're doing is trying to impart these values to our daughters.

Between today and the next Earth Day, I am going to try to add a few more habits to our repertoire of planet-saving practices. To make success realistic, I am going to concentrate on just a few things that I think I can reasonably accomplish:

-- Make a greater effort to eat locally grown foods
-- Find non-toxic alternatives to my home cleaners
-- Grow at least two different vegetables at home
-- Cut down my family's meat consumption

Listen, I am definitely not the "greenest" person I know. I'll probably never stop wearing leather. And unless Kate Spade starts using it, you'll likely never catch me in anything hemp. And I love my SUV. But, I can make an effort to save the planet in lots of other ways -- and that's really the whole point. We should all be making some efforts; and as we begin make some changes, we'll find it even easier to make more. You don't have to do it all at once to start making an impact. Hell, you might even find me elbow deep in a compost pile one day. Alicia Silverstone would be so proud.

My Mom Vacation

2008-04-16T07:59:00.000-07:00

I know, I am probably preaching to the choir here, but I am going to make the statement anyway: all moms need a vacation every now and then. I don’t care if you’re a stay-at-home mom, a work-at-home mom, a work-away-from-home mom, or some combination of all of the above: you need to get away for a while. Why? Well aside from the obvious (you’ll get to sleep in, you’ll have fun, you probably won’t be asked to change any diapers), you’ll return recharged and reinvigorated. And if you can do it with your girlfriends, even better.

I know what I am talking about here. This past weekend, I spent two days in Los Cabos with 12 girlfriends. A friend of mine is turning 40, and for her birthday present, her husband rented a fabulous villa at Pedregal and told her to invite some friends to come celebrate with her (thank you Bob and Jenn!). So on Friday morning we all met at SFO and started our weekend of fun. Twelve of us were moms with kids ranging in age from seven months to nine years old. We spent the weekend talking, eating, drinking, getting massages, and lounging by the pool. And that’s it. There was no agenda. There were no schedules. You know what else there was none of? Here’s a brief list:

1. no diaper changing

2. no cutting up anyone’s food

3. no tantrums

4. no whining

5. no negotiations at mealtimes

6. no throwing of food from high chairs/boosters/stokke chairs

7. no arguing over toys

8. no begging anyone to get dressed/get undressed/get in the stroller/(insert mind-numbing activity here)

9. no biting/hair pulling/pinching/pushing

10. no middle-of-the-night wake ups

Certainly not an exhaustive list, but you get the picture. And do you know what’s good about traveling with other moms? They automatically know what needs to be done, and they do it without being asked. When I woke up in the morning, someone had already started coffee and set out the pastries. Another mom was getting started on making eggs for everyone. When meals were done, someone would clean the dishes, load, and actually run the dishwasher! When the beach towels started to pile up around the pool, someone gathered them, neatly folded them, and put them aside. And no one needed to be asked to do it -- it was like each of us had 12 wives! If you can look past the misogyny, you can begin to wonder if perhaps those polygamists were on to something! (Please, don’t flame me – I was only joking).

But the best part of the weekend was the time spent just talking with my friends. We reminisced about old times, shared stories about our kids, dished about our husbands, cackled about sex, and empathized about deranged in-laws. Connecting with girlfriends is such an important part of a woman’s life. Hell, Sex in the City was a show entirely built around that premise. I would posit that as we hit our mid-30s and 40s, and get more deeply involved in work and family, we need these connections even more. I mean, think about the rise of “mommy blogging” – it’s another way for us to connect with other women in a technologically advanced and often isolating world. Sometimes you just need the support of your girlfriends; there are times when your friends can empathize and understand you in ways that your husband or partner can’t.

And because I had such a wonderful time, when I returned on Sunday evening, I was happy to be home. My get-away was just 48 hours, but it was enough to fill up my “mommy gas tank” with patience, stamina, and goodwill. It’s now Wednesday, and I still feel refreshed and rejuvenated. I don’t know how long the “afterglow” will last, but while it remains I find myself much less irritable and much more pleasant. I have now gone three days without wanting to jab a sharp stick into my eye or step into rush hour traffic. Dare I say it: I’ve come back a better mommy and wife.

And so, I feel the need to preach the gospel of the “mom vacation.” It’s something we should all get to do once in a while. You don’t need to spend a lot of money to get away – you just need to get away. Even if you spend a single night at your local airport hotel, it’s a night away from all of your responsibilities. And trying to find the time amidst the kids’ schedules isn’t an excuse. Two of the moms on my trip have children with severe disabilities that require seven-day-a-week therapies. No one needed to get away more than these moms. And you know what? They figured out how to do it (without having to hire extra help – the husbands stepped up). Your family won’t go into a tailspin if you leave for a day or two. Just grab a girlfriend, go away for a night, bring some trashy magazines, and you’re good to go. Enjoy yourself. You deserve it.

Adapted from original post at Silicon Valley Moms Blog

An Education for All of Us

2008-04-10T09:34:00.000-07:00

There is a great discussion going on over at the Silicon Valley Moms Blog (and sister sites) right now about education -- including my own post ;) I have been researching schools for S for a while now, but getting other moms' points of view on public vs private vs homeschooling has been enlightening. I am realizing that there are more factors to education choices than I had considered. It's worth checking out...

My Daughter, the Panhandler

2008-04-07T22:02:00.000-07:00

Yesterday the girls and I ran to the mall for a few minutes to pick up a couple of items. Living in one of the most affluent areas of the country, our local mall is pretty upscale, as you might imagine. Just to give you a sense, recent new tenants to the mall include Burberry, Cartier, Frette, and Louis Vuitton. So, panhandling isn't a sight you would expect to find there. In fact, in the nine years I've lived here, I've never once seen it at the Stanford Shopping Center -- until now.

Outside Neiman Marcus is a fountain that is a huge attraction for the kids. It features a sculpture of frolicking frogs, and as is the custom, kids throw coins into its basin. We recently taught S how to do this, and she of course, loves to pitch money in there. So, while we were there we walked by the fountain and S asked if I had any coins. I checked my wallet, and there wasn't even a penny to be found. My change purse was empty, empty, empty -- not even any lint in there. While I was putting my wallet back in my purse, before I even realized what was happening, she ran up to the fountain, found a man doling out pennies to his young son, and asked him for one!

All I could hear was, "Can I have one?" The very nice man didn't skip a beat: he just reached down and handed her a coin. Meanwhile, I was trotting over there protesting, "S, you can't do that. You can't just ask people for money." I went over and apologized to him, but he was very kind and understanding. Thank you, Kind Stranger, for being so gracious to my kid and me.

I was definitely embarrassed, but the irony wasn't lost on me. There I was wearing my expensive watch and holding the keys to my luxury vehicle while my daughter begged for money in front of Neiman Marcus. If she's going to panhandle, she should at least learn how to play an instrument for money...

We're All Class Here

2008-04-03T14:57:00.000-07:00

Sofia had her first "big girl" swim class yesterday (meaning she had her first lesson without me in the pool with her). Before we left I decided to take a quick video of her. As she was dancing around for me, she passed some gas. Classy.

A Size 12 Cup Holder

2008-04-01T08:05:00.000-07:00

This is what happens when you leave your Cole Haans laying around on the family room rug.

Week Three and Counting

2008-03-27T21:40:00.000-07:00

I finally got the pictures from the photographer framed.

They look pretty, right? Well, they would look even better on the wall. Like this one...

But instead, they've been sitting against the wall for almost three weeks. We walk past them, the cleaning ladies dust around them, the baby is starting to talk to them.

I am going to ask my dear husband again to hang them up this weekend. If Monday comes around and they're still sitting on the ground, I am putting them under the covers on his side of the bed. See if he can ignore them then.

I've gotta get rid of these little bastards

2008-03-27T21:29:00.000-07:00

Not the kids -- the Easter baskets. I am over it. No more candy. No more stupid plastic grass on my floor. No more arguments with Sofia about why she can't have chocolate for "dessert" after breakfast. Stupid candy holidays.

Courtney on Idol

2008-03-26T21:18:00.000-07:00

Okay, it's not Courtney on Idol -- it's Courtney's thoughts on Idol last night...

-- The Furby (my little pet name for David Archuleta) is tiresome. If he sings one more inspirational song with a message I may have to shove a screwdriver in my ear. Tonight I actually started vacuuming in the middle of his performance. And I HATE vacuuming.

-- Kristy Lee is an evil genius. No one is going to vote her off on the night that she sings "God Bless the USA". Next week she's going to have to sing "My Country 'Tis of Thee" or the national anthem in order to stay.

-- Jason Castro is growing on me. I like his whole shtick (aside from the dreads).

-- David Cook is the most talented. He's my favorite.

-- Brooke is adorable. I want to be her friend.

-- Michael Johns is still hot.

To My Husband: The Best Decision I Ever Made

2008-03-25T15:58:00.000-07:00

Over the years, you know I've taken pride in the fact that I've made some really good decisions at critical points in my life. Some I knew were going to be important decisions and others I had no idea would be so monumental. Some I made with the support of friends and family, and others I made in spite of advice or logic against them.

I am sitting here with the clarity of hindsight on my side and taking stock of all those important decisions. Probably the first important decision was where to go to college. Despite my dad's best arguments, I decided against the Ivy League and went with my heart down to Durham. My years at Duke were amazing -- I'll never regret that choice. But, listening to my folks served me well when I was making the decision to study abroad. Fearful of traveling to a place where I wasn't conversant in the language, I almost went to Scotland instead of Italy. I am so happy that I took a chance and ended up in Rome for almost six months. Then, when most of my classmates were going on to New York, DC and Atlanta or heading to med school, law school, or some consulting firm, I chose California and a graduate degree suited for the entertainment industry. Again, it was the right choice.

But, Sweets, my best decisions led me to you, and us, and our life now. I still shake my head in amazement when I think about how I almost decided not to go to Manhattan Beach that night we met. Even though I didn't know what a pivotal choice that would be, I still believe that some part of my subconscious heart knew what you would become to me when you walked through Sarah and Stacy's door. How else can I explain the instant connection we felt? And to think that I was feeling almost too tired and lazy to haul myself down the 405 to meet up with you all.

And what about our first date more than two years later? According to conventional wisdom, we shouldn't have been dating at all. Weren't we supposed to be each other's rebound relationships? Logic and rational decision-making should have instructed me not to fly up to San Francisco for a night at the opera with you. But, my heart told me to do it, and I chose to take a chance. And that evening was the most magical I had ever known. Even now when I am awake and restless in the middle of the night, I replay that evening in my head (it's something I started doing years ago so that I would never forget it). That decision started a whirlwind courtship that culminated in our wedding two years later.

And here we are on our eighth wedding anniversary, many decisions later. We've made some choices that we had no idea would be so monumental: like my decision to work at that start-up (would the world really be open to another search engine with a funny name?); and others that we knew would affect the course of our life together: like the decision to stop at two children. But really, the decision of which I am most proud is the last one I made completely on my own -- and that's the choice to marry you. Happy Anniversary, Sweets. I love you.

Happy Easter!

2008-03-23T20:50:00.000-07:00

Here are my two Easter bunnies all dressed up and ready to go to church on Easter morning. I love the sweet eyelet dresses. They look adorable, no?

It's funny -- before I had kids I never thought I would dress my children in matching outfits. Now I can't help myself! I love it when they match, and I'm going to do it for as long as they let me. They have plenty of years ahead of them in which they can dress themselves -- for now, I am in charge!

To Sleep, Perchance to Sleep

2008-03-22T07:52:00.000-07:00

Wow. Life just seems much more difficult when you're getting no sleep. On Wednesday afternoon, I took a Claritin (allergies in Northern Cal have been particularly bad this year) without realizing how bad the side effects would be for me. I went to bed at 9:15pm, woke up at 11:15pm, and stayed awake until almost 4am. Uggh. Then, I think I slept from about 4am 'til about 5am, and was done. And, of course the kids have no concept of Mama's sleep-deprivation. Needless to say, I was zombie-like. But, the show must go on, right? So, I schlepped S over to a birthday party on Thursday and stayed through the entire thing.

So, that night, it's no wonder that I couldn't wait to get to bed. It's also little wonder that it was that particular night when my one year old (who has been sleeping through the night since she was six months old) decided to wake up at 3:15am.. How do they know?!? How do they know to kick you when you're down? And of course, my husband who claims to be kept awake by the neighbors' barking dogs somehow slept through our own baby's cries down the hall. Interesting selective hearing. Anyway, I was naturally up with the baby for an hour, and then couldn't fall back to sleep. Thus, in the course of two nights, I managed to get myself almost a single night's sleep.

When I am sleep-deprived, I am a bitch. Let's just put that out there right now. My patience (which isn't prodigious to begin with) is almost non-existent when I am exhausted. I found myself really irritated by my three year old, which only made me feel guilty, which made me even grumpier. You can see the downward spiral this created. It's at these times that I am completely reassured about our decision not to have any more kids -- I just don't think I have the reserves of patience required to withstand another extended period of sleep-deprivation.

So, I finally managed to get some sleep this weekend in between attending another birthday party and hosting an Easter egg-dyeing party at my house for 14 children under four years old (the topic of a different post, certainly!). Now life doesn't seem as daunting, I have some more patience, and am a little less bitchy. For now.

Music to My Ears

2008-03-16T21:08:00.000-07:00

The other day, the girls and I were eating lunch and talking while music from my Pandora radio station was playing in the background. All of a sudden, S perked up her ears, started bouncing to the music, and said, "Mama, I like this music. What's this song?" The track was Snow from the Red Hot Chili Peppers album Stadium Arcadium. She was really getting into the song and asking me who the band was and what the band members' names were. And there I was talking with my 3 1/2 year old about Anthony Kiedis!

We've been listening to a lot of kids' music lately (nothing against Andy Z or Laurie Berkner, but I've about had my fill!), and it is always a little thrilling to me when the girls notice "grown up" music. And this was RHCP! I was a big fan of the band back in the early '90s (when they were musically relevant). I saw them live at the second-ever Lollapalooza (back when it was relevant) and then again at the KROQ Weenie Roast in Los Angeles. (As an aside, it just occurred to me that I saw some amazing, even seminal, acts back then: Pearl Jam, Ice Cube, No Doubt, Foo Fighters, Garbage, The Fugees, even the KISS reunion).

It got me thinking about all the music that I haven't even begun to share with the girls. We listen to a lot of music at home, but we've really only scratched the surface. There is so much more that they have yet to discover. We've been trying to impart some of our favorites -- S recognizes some of my Springsteen, and she loves to sing John Denver, has just discovered Neil Diamond, and has fallen in love with the music of Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker. It's funny now that S is starting to really listen to and understand the lyrics, too. Even though Johnny Cash 's Ring of Fire was the first song that she ever danced to, we don't really play it around her now. It causes her too much consternation: she keeps asking why he's playing with fire. And I've recently started listening to Amy Winehouse, but I am not going to share that with the girls yet -- the last thing I need is my preschooler singing about rehab!

I can't wait to see how their own musical tastes develop -- one of the things most fun about being a parent is to see how these little personalities with their own set of preferences take shape. I wonder if they'll like certain artists because of or in spite of our influence. Either way, it will be fun to share music with each other. And I look forward to the day when they introduce me to their music.

Potty Power Interrupted?

2006-10-17T21:38:00.000-07:00

Okay, well I am not sure but Potty Power may be on hold for a while. S isn't that interested in using the potty anymore. It's like the novelty has worn off. Today she not only peed on her carpet, but took off her diaper in her bed and peed all over her sheets, comforter, and mattress. Fabulous. I swear she did it on purpose -- it took all my willpower not to scold her. I definitely don't want to stress her out, but I can't help but feel a little demoralized about this. I was really hoping to have her potty trained before the new baby comes, but if it has to wait, then I guess it has to wait.

In other news, I am really excited to have started another blog. This one is about my cooking endeavors and is called Chronicles of a Non-Foodie. I plan for it to be a place to discuss the recipes that I've tried and share any tips I might find along the way. It will also help me keep a record of my successes or failures in the kitchen. My inspiration was a book I just finished by Julia Powell called Julie & Julia: My Year of Cooking Dangerously. The author basically decided to complete all 500+ recipes in Julia Child's seminal cookbook, Mastering the Art of French Cooking in a year; and she blogged about the process developing quite a cyber following in the process. The book relates this story. Anyway, while I don't want to take on that kind of a challenge (who really wants to cook calf brains or make aspic?), but it has re-ignited my desire to try some new recipes. So, if you're interested pop on over there and feel free to comment.

Potty Power

2006-10-06T17:57:00.000-07:00

Okay, I have to admit that I was skeptical. Other moms had told me that watching a potty training video really helped their kids get excited about potty training. But I thought, "What the hell. If it doesn't work, all I am out is $11 and five minutes on Amazon.com." So, I bought "Potty Power."

A few days later when it arrived in the mail, I immediately popped it into the DVD player and S was completely entranced by it -- the songs, kids, and dancing toilet paper roll definitely helped keep her engaged. When it was finished, I asked her if she wanted to try sitting on the potty. She was eager to try. Something must have clicked for her in watching that video because lo and behold, S finally peed on the potty! I am not sure which of the two of us was more excited!

So, we've been using the potty for a week now. Oh, what new territories we're embarking upon.

Back to School

2006-09-08T13:44:00.000-07:00

Well, summer vacations are over and it's back to blogging for me. And off to preschool for S! I can't believe it, but my baby is actually starting school. She has a backpack, a teacher, and a little cubbyhole at school with her name on it. Since it's a co-op, it's back to school for me, too. I will be working there a day a week in the classroom.

It's a great little school with a very close-knit and loyal community. Honestly, at times I joke that we're joining a cult. But, I think it's exactly what we are looking for -- a neighborhood preschool where my daughter can meet lots of other kids in our hometown. Hopefully, these will be the kids with whom she goes off to kindergarten and elementary school.

I know it's only preschool -- it's essentially a two-and-half-hour playdate -- but, I hope she does well. Eventually, I am going to just drop her off and not stay with her -- I hope she does okay with that. And, I hope that she gets along with all of the other kids and makes friends. And, I hope that she follows the rules and doesn't give the teacher too much trouble. Maybe I am just being neurotic first-time mom. I mean, if I am like this when she is going to preschool, what kind of nut am I going to be when she goes to grade school or high school or college?! But, this is really just one of the many rites of passage that are so fraught with parental hopes and prayers for their children. We all want to see our children be happy and successful whether its the first day of preschool or medical school. But neuroses aside, I really am excited about school starting on Tuesday and blogging about our first day.

If I can't have wine, you can't have whine.

2006-06-30T17:36:00.000-07:00

When I was pregnant with my daughter, friends, books and internet sources all referred to the nerve-wracking tenor of a newborn's cry. So when S came along, I was prepared for the effect that her cries would have on me. I understood why some folks assert that the sound of nails scratching against a chalkboard is preferable to an infant's cry. It gets to your very core and sits there festering -- all you want to do is make it stop. It's probably quite evolutionary: this is how nature ensures that a parent attends to a helpless newborn's needs.

But, WHY didn't someone warn me about a toddler's whining?!?

My daughter is generally a loving, fun, easygoing little kid. Until the whining starts. And it started about three weeks ago and has hardly let up since. She wakes up whining for her milk, or her bunny, or her daddy. Then she whines that she wants me to read her a book, or that she doesn't want me to take a shower, or because she wants a snack. And all day long I am trying to hold my patience and tell her to ask me in her "normal voice" and to "please stop whining". I mean, we're both starting to sound like broken records.

I know I am not alone and that this must be something specific to her age. Many of my other friends with two year olds have reported the same trends in their homes. But the company I have in this misery doesn't make it any easier to bear when S is whining for "more crackers, Mama" for the fortieth time today. There is something so unnerving about the whine that makes me want to bang my head into the wall. In fact, I came up with a list of things that I would be less painful than the constant whining:

1. Answer the phone every time my mother-in-law calls (we're talking 4-5 times a day, people).
2. Open the front door everytime some 20 year old comes to my door selling magazines so that he can earn money for a "school field trip" or "college" or "camp".
3. Watch "Elizabethtown" or "In Her Shoes" again. Awful movies.
4. Have a Plantar's wart removed every day for a year. Without painkiller.
5. Take advanced calculus again.

Obviously, this list is by no means exhaustive, but you get my drift. Right now I am just trying to find ways to get through what I pray is a phase. A short-lived one. I think I am doing the right things -- at least according to my library of child-rearing reference books. I don't respond to requests delivered in a whiny voice; I ask her to use her normal voice; I don't use a whiney tone myself, etc. But, I would love to hear any advice that any other parents might have.

And, you know the worst part is that after a long day, I can't even calm my frayed nerves with a nice glass of wine. Or a stiff vodka tonic. Now that's enough to make you whine.

A Heartbeat

2006-06-27T16:45:00.000-07:00

We saw a heartbeat yesterday. My own heart stopped in anticipation while the doctor was moving around the wand. Finally he said, "And there is the heartbeat." What an amazing, humbling, awe-inspiring thing to see. What a fragile, yet tenacious little being is growing inside me.

I know we're not out of the woods yet, but so far so good.

Keep beating little heart. Get stronger, grow bigger, come meet your Mama.

Fun in the Summertime

2006-06-25T10:45:00.000-07:00

I just had to post a picture of S in her new $7.99 Target pool. It will go down as the best purchase of 2006!

Hot Enough for You?

2006-06-23T08:16:00.000-07:00

So, it's about 8,000 degrees here in the Silicon Valley this week, and weirdo that I am, I really like it. I would much rather be hot than cold. S and I have been trying to find ways to beat the heat during the day (lots of runs to Target with its heavenly air conditioning), and have decided on a baby pool. We went to her friends' house yesterday where the other mom and I decided to pull out their baby pool and put our poor, flushed, overheated toddlers into it. And, it was heavenly! Not only did it cool off the kids who were adorable as they splashed around in their little swim diapers, but it contained them to one spot. That means that the mommies could sit on our asses and not have to run after them in the oven-like heat. Pure bliss. S had a great time in the pool pretending to give herself a bath.

I was hooked and decided that after naptime, S and I would run to Target (ahh, Target) to get our own baby pool. Now, when is the worst time to buy a baby pool? During a heat wave. Just like with fans -- you can never find a fan during a heat wave or a shovel during a snow storm. Yes, people, I lack foresight. In all my trips to Target, when I passed by aisles filled with baby pools, water wings, slip-n-slides, etc. never once did I think to buy one BEFORE the thermometer hit 98 degrees. Smart. So, anyway, I walk down the kiddie pool aisle, and it's completely decimated. I mean, it's like the looters have been there. I am obviously crestfallen and S is in the cart yelling, "I need pool!" because I stupidly told her ahead of time what we were buying. As I stood staring down the empty aisle, I saw a woman with the ideal baby pool in her basket. I pounced on her asking where she got it -- the poor woman must have seen the crazed look in my eyes and quickly pointed to a bare shelf and then hurried away with her baby pool tucked tightly against her chest. If she hadn't had about 50 lbs. on me, I might have tried to wrestle the pool away. Anyway, as I am sitting there forlornly looking down the aisle, I glance down, and there tucked away behind an air pump (for inflating said pools) is my jewel -- a baby pool that has been taken out of the box. I snatched it up before anyone else could wander down the aisle and get to it before me. With a little further searching, I found the box and the patch kit that comes with the pool. Aha! Mission accomplished!

$7.99 later, we get home and I decide that I need to pump up that pool right away. Once I am finished pumping it up by hand, I put it out back. By this time, it's 6pm and we're on our way out to dinner, so there is no filling it up with water. But, in her excitement, my daughter takes a flying leap and belly flops in the pool. The empty pool. The empty pool sitting on the slate patio. OUCH! R and I look on completely horrified waiting for the inevitable wailing to begin. But, it never comes. S was completely unfazed. In fact, she started pretending to swim in her empty pool. Imagine her joy when we actually fill it with water!

Today I am going to fill the pool with water, put S in the pool, pull up a chair, dip my toes in and just enjoy the arrival of summertime.

Random Randomness

2006-06-17T18:57:00.000-07:00

My mind is a disjointed mess right now. Here is just a sampling...

-- Ah, solitude. I practically pushed R and S out the door to take a bike ride tonight. The two of them were making me crazy. There is something so delicious about getting a few minutes alone in the house that I didn't expect or plan for. It's only for a few minutes, but it's heaven.

-- I miss alcohol. All those Italian, French, and Spanish women who continue to drink during their pregnancies have my envy and admiration. I could hurt someone right now for a glass of wine or a vodka tonic. I can almost convince myself that just a little sip can't hurt. But, I didn't drink at all during my pregnancy with S, so I am not going to do differently with this one.

-- My husband is a seriously smart man. R is the smartest man I've ever met which is one reason I married him. That's why I am so confused. When it comes to cleaning the stove, he's a semi-retard. It's unreal. I find egg drippings and grease from quesadillas after he has supposedly "cleaned" the stove. And I am not sure what implement he uses to wipe stuff up, but it's not the clean cloths or towels that I keep handy for such occasions. Instead, he uses the grimiest thing he can find which does nothing but leave disgusting grease streaks all over the place. And, I sit there and tell myself, "Okay, I am NOT going to clean this up. Let him notice how nasty this is and do it himself. He'll see. He won't take for granted anymore that I'll clean up after him." This tactic of course lasts for about 8 minutes until I just can't stand it anymore clean it myself.

-- An old friend of ours is coming tonight and is going to stay with us for about 10 days. Ordinarily, I would be a whirlwind of housecleaning activity in order to prepare for a guest (particularly someone who was in our wedding), but this guy has been living with yaks, so his standards can't be too high. Seriously, with yaks. He's been living in Nepal for the past two years in villages in the Himalayas with indigenous people who don't take baths more than a couple of times a year. So, I am not sweating it. I mean, this place has to look better, right?

-- S has discovered the word "mine" and now uses it indiscriminately for everything. It could belong to anyone, but to her it's "mine." Oh, it makes social situations with other toddlers (like playgroups and birthday parties) so much freakin' fun.

-- I still miss alcohol.

Why I Love You Wednesday -- 06-14-06 Edition

2006-06-14T21:53:00.000-07:00

Why I Love You

-- Because you laugh this throaty little giggle when you come down the slide.
-- When you get your milk in the morning, the first thing you want to do is cuddle with me.
-- You love when I rub your back and you try to rub mine too.
-- You're constantly trying to talk me into going to the park -- no matter what time of day or what else we're doing at the moment.
-- You're such a drama queen!
-- You make me laugh and my heart swell even when I am feeling blue.

Two Pink Lines

2006-06-09T13:39:00.000-07:00

Two of them. Okay, one was light, but it was still there. So, two of them.

I am so scared. I am so afraid that this one is going to turn out like the last one. I am dreading the phone call from the doctor telling me that the HCG levels aren't growing like they're supposed to. I am freaking out everytime I go to the bathroom, hoping not to see telltale signs in my underwear. I want to rejoice in this, but I can't bring myself to do it.

And, I am scared about a second kid. Some days having just S alone is too much for me to handle with grace and aplomb. I mean, there are days that I lose my shit and yell at her. I hate that I do it, but there it is -- it happens on occasion. Am I really qualified, prepared, or cut out for two of them? Because you have one, does that automatically qualify you to have two? I am not sure.

I wanted this. I want this, I do. I am just freaked about about getting it. A little tiny part of me is rejoicing, but it's being drowned out by the huge part of me wringing its hands and worrying out loud.

Why I Love You Wednesday -- 05-31-06 Edition

2006-05-31T13:23:00.000-07:00

Why I Love You

-- Because when you discover that Mamma has a boo-boo, you try to kiss it.
-- Every bug you see is a "Biggg Buggg!"
-- You have inserted jumping into walking. All of a sudden I turn around and you're jumping behind me.
-- You've discovered the words "want" and "need" and aren't afraid to use them. Like when we were out at dinner and you yelled across the table, "MAMMA, I NEED ACQUA!"
-- Because you are sooo into your father these days and it just makes my heart want to burst when I see you two together.

Why I Love You Wednesday -- 05-24-06 Edition

2006-05-24T20:41:00.000-07:00

Because you make me laugh!

A Mother's Guilt

2006-05-24T15:11:00.000-07:00

As I titled this post, I realized that one could interpret it to mean the guilt that a mother constantly feels with regard to her children. You know, the guilt that keeps us up at night with thoughts such as, "Should I really have let S have two pieces of chocolate cake today?", or "I shouldn't have yelled at S when she refused to get into her car seat today. I am a horrible mother", or "Crap! I forgot to put sunscreen on the baby today." Every mother has these thoughts. And it's a topic worthy of a post. But, it's not the kind of guilt that I am writing about now. Instead, I mean the guilt that a mother foists onto her children. Particularly her adult children. Her adult female children. Who live 3,000 miles away. And have produced the only grandchild in the family.

Yes, I have fallen victim once again to the guilt trip. And, it's not just any guilt trip, but it's the Italian Mother Guilt Trip (IMGT). For some reason, Italian mothers are excellent practicioners of the guilt trip, rivaled only by the Jewish mother. And my mom is no exception. Here is how the conversation went last night...

Mom (with a very practiced nonchalant tone): "Ah, I was wondering were you planning to come home this summer to visit?"

Me (anticipating this question for the past three months): "Well, Mom, I wasn't really planning on it since your house is up for sale. It doesn't really make sense to travel back to NJ to visit you if you're not going to be there."

Mom: "Oh, we'll still be here."

Me (scrambling for another excuse): "Well, I am not sure. I mean, we're taking this vacation in August and R can't take any more vacation."

Mom (with her first blow): "Oh, well I thought we could go to the beach. I mean, I was going to sell the beach house this summer but held off because I thought you or your sister would come home for a visit. R doesn't have to come. You can come out with just S."

Me: "Well, maybe I'll come home in September. I have to see. You know, it's really tough to travel with a two-year old alone."

Mom (with the second part of her one-two punch): "I was thinking that if you came at the end of July, I could fly back to California with you and be there for S's birthday. That way you wouldn't have to fly home alone either."

Me (struggling now): "Well, I'll think about it."

Mom (with the knockout punch): "It's just that I know your grandmother would like to see S and you know I just don't know when she's going to get the chance to see her again. You just never know what could happen. Who knows how much longer your grandmother has. She's keeps asking when she's going to get to see S again."

Me (reeling with realization that I am now getting both the IMGT as well as the IGGT (Italian Grandmother Guilt Trip) by transference): "Um, okay."

I was powerless to resist. I never had a chance. So today I bought S and I two roundtrip tickets to go back to NJ in July to visit my parents and of course my grandmother.

Why I Love You Wednesday -- 05-17-06 Edition

2006-05-17T20:55:00.000-07:00

Why I Love You
-- Your newest mantra is "one more" for everything.
-- You hold up your little index finger when you ask for "one more"
-- You refuse to sit still and cuddle in bed with Daddy and me. Our bed is like one big playground to you.
-- You get so excited when we go to Whole Foods and start yelling for the free sample apples as soon as we pull into the parking lot, "Appules! Appules!"
-- When we say our prayers at night and ask God to give us a little brother or sister soon, you have started saying, "little sistu". From your mouth to God's ears, Baby.

There Are No Mommy Sick Days

2006-05-12T09:03:00.000-07:00

Uggh, S infected me! Whatever she had earlier this week made its way to me. She no longer has a fever, but now has a remnant cough. I now have the fever and the cough. We're quite a pair right now.

She and I are currently curled up on the couch -- I am resorting to Sesame Street as my babysitter of choice right now. Thank God for free Sesame Street on On Demand. I sometimes wonder if using the television to keep her occupied for a while makes me a bad mom. But, honestly, I feel so crappy right now that I can justify it a dozen different ways.

If I had my choice, S and I would stay in our pajamas all day and watch movie after movie. But we actually have a full day planned including a board meeting for me (I am on the board of the local mothers' club -- I know, it's actually big enough to have a board). I am seriously going to be so worthless at it, but I feel obliged to go.

That is one of the toughest things I have found about being a mom. Before S came along, if I wasn't feeling well, I could just stay home and take care of myself. I could work from home if I wanted to, nap all day long if I wanted to, stay in my jammies all day if I wanted to, and never leave the couch if I wanted to. And, then my husband would take care of me when he came home from work. But, now that I have S, there are really no Mommy Sick Days. It doesn't matter that I feel like ass -- S still needs to be changed, fed, played with, monitored to make sure she doesn't harm herself or anyone else, etc. And, she's too young to understand that Mamma isn't feeling well and that she needs to give me a break. I could probably get my mother-in-law over here to give me a hand, but then I would have to deal with her. She already calls me 2,483 times a day. I don't need to have her in my house, too. But, that's the topic of an entirely separate post...

Introducing "Why I Love You Wednesday"

2006-05-10T22:58:00.000-07:00

I've been reading a lot of blogs from other moms, and I really like the idea of having a regular weekly feature like "Chafe My Ass Friday" on BlondeMomBlog and "Wednesday Advice Smackdown" on Amalah. So, I am going to institute "Why I Love You Wednesday" in which I am going to list a couple of things that my daughter is doing to make me laugh, smile, or remind me how much I love her. The reason for this theme is twofold: first, I just don't think I need the pressure to write something funny each week; and second, it will allow me to record all of the little things that S does on a daily basis -- kind of like a little digital baby book. So, here goes...

Why I Love You
-- When I was drying my hair this morning, you made me also dry the hair on Baby Bunny, Mamma Bunny, Raggedy Ann, and Baby Bear.
-- You yell "No" when you're doing something that you know you're not supposed to be doing.
-- You pre-emptively thank me when you want me to do something for you. In other words, if you want me to hold your cup, you first say, "Nanky, Mamma" and then hand me the cup.
-- You call body lotion, shampoo, and hair gel, "soap".
-- You're bossy as hell! All day long it's, "C'mere Mamma!", "Sit Mamma!", and "C'mere Darbu!"
-- You run after Darby trying to pick her up and pet her. I know that it won't be long until you're trying to dress up the poor cat.
-- You think that crackers, carrot slices, cheerios, and Veggie Booty are all cookies and refer to them all as "coo-coos".

There are no stupid questions?

2006-05-08T20:00:00.000-07:00

I love the questions I get from my husband when our daughter is sick.

Him: Oh my God, she's burning up. Did you know that?

What I wish I said: Nice detective work, Sherlock. Remember, I am the one who called you at work three hours ago and told you that she had a 102 fever? Oh, and in the course of her crying and clinging to me all afternoon, I was somehow tipped off to her high temperature.

What I actually said: Yeah, I noticed that.

Him: Did you give her medicine?

What I wish I said: No. No I did not. In the time since you left for work this morning I have become a Christian Scientist. So, no, I did not give our feverish, miserable, whining two year old any medicine. She can tough it out.

What I actually said: Um, yeah.

God love him...

Hometown Weekend

2006-05-02T08:54:00.000-07:00

Somehow I have found myself in the middle of a Leave It To Beaver life. Well, kinda. I mean, I don't vacuum in pearls like June did. Hell, I don't even vacuum unless threatened or shamed into it. But, what I mean is that I am living this almost idyllic suburban life. I know, I know -- so many folks deride this kind of "soul-less" existence. But, I really can't agree. I like that we live in a safe, clean neighborhood where kids run up and down the street to each others' houses. I like that we can walk to our neigborhood park and that I see half a dozen other moms pushing strollers on the way there. I like that I have a backyard filled with grass, flowers, and plants for my daughter to enjoy and dig in. I know that the detractors of suburbia quote the lack of diversity and culture, but in our little town, I don't feel like we're horribly lacking in those departments. At our playground, you definitely hear as much Spanish, and almost as much Russian and Mandarin as you do English. And, we have a great little downtown filled with a variety of cuisines and a theater that actually gets recognizable artists, comedians, and writers. I mean, I recognize that we don't have the level of cultural sophistication and diversity that our neighbors just 20 miles north in SF do. But, conversely, they don't have some of the advantages that we do here in suburbia. Do I sound a little defensive? Well, maybe -- although, that's not my intent. I am just feeling self-satisfied with the decisions that R and I made about where we were going to live and the lifestyle we were going to have.

Anyway, where was I going with this? Oh, I was going to describe our little suburbia hometown weekend. It was actually fantastic in that from the time we woke up on Saturday until Sunday night, we really didn't get in the car more than once or twice -- almost everything we decided to do was within walking distance. First, we walked our town's annual Pet Parade. That's right -- a Pet Parade. Yes, it's just as silly as you would imagine: people and their pets dressed up in costumes (often matching), contests for the prettiest pet, best costume, the pet that looks most like its owner, etc. It was schlocky and so much fun. S had a great time looking at all the woof-woofs ("dogs" in 1-year-old speak). Um, but note to the event organizers for next year: it's probably not a great idea to do a police dog demonstration to a crowd filled with little kids and toddlers. That's right, they demonstrated how our local police dog could take down a criminal in two seconds flat. In case you don't get the visual on that, imagine an eighty-pound German Shepherd racing across the open field to pounce and detain a "criminal" in front of 30 kids under the age of 10. Fortunately, R and I walked away and kept S from witnessing it once we caught the gist of what was about to happen, but I can just imagine the fear of dogs that took hold in some of those kids during that demonstration!

This weekend was also the festival for the local Catholic church in our neighborhood. It had just what you might expect: rides, games of "skill" and chance, food like cotton candy, snow cones, caramel apples, etc. They call them festivals here, but where I grew up on the East Coast, we called them carnivals. Ah, the church carnival -- so many reminiscences of being thirteen and holding hands with the boyfriend of the week, wondering if perhaps he might sneak you a little peck on the cheek before the end of the night (7pm). I saw so many kids there who reminded me of that time in my life -- only they looked WAY younger! I mean, is it possible that 10 year olds were walking around with boyfriends?! I mean, at 10 years old, I think I was still playing with Barbies. Okay, I was a little on the nerdy side, but still! Anyway, S was way to young to go on any of the rides, but she had a great time watching her dad win stuffed animals for her. And, when it got to be dusk and the older kids started showing up hand-in-hand, we packed her up and strolled back to our house tucked safely into Suburbia.

Random Domesticity

2006-04-26T08:26:00.000-07:00

I don't have any real theme for today's post; I just have a series of random thoughts.

Is it totally pathetic that I am ridiculously excited to play hookey from mommy-hood today? I am going with a couple of my mommy friends to lunch and a matinee movie SANS kids! Woo-hoo! Obviously, I love my daughter, but she's in a particularly clingy phase these days. Even now as I type, she's here yelling, "Up-oo, Mamma. Up-oo!". In other words, "Mom, I want to sit in your lap". So, I am typing with a 30lb 20-month old in my lap. Sooo, it will be kinda nice to have a couple of hours in which I have my lap to myself.

Warning: I am about to enter the gushing Mamma zone for a minute here. If you're sickened by mothers' tales of their offsprings' incredibly cute antics, this is not the paragraph for you. Please feel free to skip ahead. Okay, anyway I have to say that at each stage of S's development, I think that she's at the cutest one yet. Right now her communication skills are really starting to blossom -- she's been putting together rudimentary sentences and even using pronouns (apparently a concept that is fairly sophisticated for children first learning language skills). At the playground, she'll stand at the top of the slide and yell at the top of her lungs, "Mamma, I big girl!". Too cute. However, she doesn't quite get all of the rules of pronoun usage. For instance, she loves it when I hide and then jump out yelling, "Boo!". Her response every time is, "I scared me!". Every day brings a new language gaffe that is so adorable -- I have to remember to write them down so that I don't forget them when she's older and her language skills are full of different kinds of interesting nuances (such as, "Mom, why can't I take the car?! That's bull@$*&!").

I pride myself on being a pretty good cook -- I love to eat which is generally half the battle, I believe. Well, my best friend T hails from New Orleans and cooks a mean red beans and rice. Last night I used her recipe and attempted my own red beans and rice. Let's just say that it wasn't my finest showing in the kitchen. Where hers was creamy, mine was pasty. Where hers had a beautiful rich dark red color, mine was more of a sickening brown. Mine looked like refried beans -- which are tasty, but there is a reason that you generally hide them in a tortilla. They just don't look that appetizing. R insisted that it was very tasty (smart man), but I just wasn't very happy about it. I think that next time I will use some slightly different ingredients and make sure to add more water while it simmers. I think that tonight I'll try to redeem myself with one of my old stand-by recipes.

Oh and my final thought for now: is Britney Spears really pregnant again?!? Does anyone else think that's a bad idea on so many levels?

Wallowing

2006-04-08T07:03:00.000-07:00

Well, despite my best intentions, I couldn't wait until Sunday to take another pregnancy test. I took one this morning and big surprise, it was negative. Try as I might, I could not detect anything that could possibly be considered a second pink line. I think it's pretty safe to say that I am not pregnant -- given that my period is due tomorrow, I am pretty sure that I would have seen even a very faint line if I were pregnant.

I can't express how bummed I am right now. All I can think about is how easy it is for other folks to get pregnant (like my friends M and T). And, each time I get back a negative test or get my period, the sadness of the miscarriage washes over me again. I keep thinking about how far along in that pregnancy I would be by now (just over the halfway mark).

So, I guess I'll give my doctor a call this week and talk about next steps -- tests, meetings with fertility doctors, etc. He and I talked about this before, but it's time to get new info.

Until then, I'll have a drink at dinner tonight and continue to wallow in my own crapulence...

Okay, let's try this again...

2006-04-07T16:21:00.000-07:00

I've been reading all of these wonderful blogs lately and checking out some great podcasts, and I've felt like I really want to start contributing to my own blog again. I think I may need to get over my own perfectionists tendencies -- I am so reticent to publish something that isn't wonderfully witty, insightful, or well-composed that I don't publish anything. Which is really funny because I am certain that I am the only one reading this anyway! But, I am going to put my fears of mediocrity aside and try again with this blog.

So, some of the blogs I've been reading lately have to do with secondary infertility. That is, infertility in folks who have already had a first child, but are having a tough time getting pregant (or staying pregnant) with #2. I am not even sure if our situation could be considered secondary "infertility" -- I haven't gotten an "infertile" diagnosis. But, we are trying for #2 and having a tough time with it. I had heard a bunch of stories about women being super fertile after a miscarriage, successfully acheiving conception the first or second cycle after a miscarriage. So, naturally after our miscarriage in December, I was expecting to get pregnant again right away. Well, here we are three cycles later and still not pregnant.

At least, I don't think we're pregnant. Right now I am experiencing some spotting and I am not sure if it's due to implantation or if it's just the start of my period. Both times I've been pregnant, I had spotting about 10 days after ovulation. However, I also spot a day or so before I get my period. I started spotting on Wednesday and took a pregnancy test (well, actually two of them) which was of course negative. Now I've had light spotting for three days and I have no idea what is going on. I don't want to take another pregnancy test because I don't want to face the disappointment. Plus, my period isn't due until Sunday. If I take a test today and it's negative, I'll be disappointed, but I will still have a glimmer of doubt in my mind, thinking that perhaps it's too early for the test to detect the HCG. Then, if I get my period on Sunday, I'll be disappointed TWICE. So, I am just planning to wait to see if I get it on Sunday -- if not, then I'll take a test.

And, if it's negative on Sunday, then I guess we're back to trying again...

The Heavy Lifting

2005-09-01T19:36:00.000-07:00

Wow, I can't believe it has been six weeks since I last wrote. The summer has just flown by with not much happening -- I honestly can't say that anything spectacular kept me from writing. Perhaps that's it -- nothing spectacular happened, and thus I didn't feel compelled to write. There was really nothing to report.

Well, now I feel like writing. Two things have really been occupying my thoughts for the past 24 hours: New Orleans and cancer. They seem like two pretty incongruent things until you realize that both concern very close friends of mine.

My best friend Ti is from New Orleans; she lives in Nashville now, but most of her family still lives back in the greater New Orleans area. My family was on vacation, so I didn't pay a lot of attention to Hurricane Katrina until all of a sudden there were images on TV of New Orleans under double-digit feet of water. The realization that Ti's family was likely affected by this didn't dawn on me all at once, but rather washed over me as I began to understand the implications for her elderly great-aunt living alone in Metarie or her dad in his house on the shores of Lake Pontchartrain. It turns out that her family was able to get out of the city safely, but they can truly be considered refugees now. Their homes and business were badly damaged, if not completely destroyed, and it will be months and months before they're able to rebuild. In the meantime, they're staying with Ti, her husband, and their two toddlers. And in being able to flee the city with their lives, Ti's family can truly be considered the lucky ones...

The footage of people stranded in New Orleans has been heartwrenching, appalling, and maddening. These poor, wretched souls are left without basic human necessities like food and water. They are literally living among their dead. Babies have no food, diapers, or clean water. The elderly are suffering the effects of the elements, dehydration, and malnutrition. There is no potable water supply and NO HELP IN SIGHT! And this is in America!! This enrages me! This tragedy has been going on for four days now -- why hasn't our federal government air-dropped supplies to the folks in the Convention Center and SuperDome? Why haven't we mobilized our troops to go in there, restore order, and provide humanitarian aid? I'll tell you two reasons why our response has been so slow: 1) we're tying up too many of our resources in Iraq where we're unwanted and unsuccessful, and 2) those left behind to suffer in New Orleans are largely black and poor. There is no reason why citizens of the world's richest and most powerful country should be suffering like this and receive such a dwadling response from our federal government.

So, I thank God that Ti's family is safe and healthy. I wish all of them continued strength. I know the next few months will be incredibly difficult, but they will be spending them counting their blessings rather than bemoaning their losses.

As for cancer, I have been thinking about my friend Jen who is undergoing chemotherapy for a rare form of sarcoma. I don't know any other way to express my feelings about this than to say that this sucks. What are the chances that cancer hits two women in a small circle of friends before they're forty? Well, it did. First me, then Jen. In some odd way, I thought that my experience with cancer would mean that none of my friends would have to get it. I know it doesn't make sense rationally, but it's the kind of irrational rationalization that we do, "Well, if I got cancer, the odds are that my friends won't get it, so I got it out of the way for all of us. Okay, I've got cancer covered, can someone else take on infertility? How about divorce? Anyone?" I mean, it makes no sense, but these are the kinds of things that we tend to think. Anyway, Jen underwent surgery in March, and we were hoping that she could keep the cancer at bay and not have to undergo chemo. Well, it turns out that a recent test showed that the cancer was back and they decided to start chemo. Having the perspective of a cancer/chemo survivor, I know in exactly how many ways chemo sucks. And I am so sorry that anyone I know, much less love, has to go through with it. But, my friend Jen is a testament to the human spirit. Even before the whole cancer thing intruded into her life, she was one of the most effervescent, upbeat, positive people I have ever met. She is one of those folks who collects friends wherever she goes because people just love being around her. And bless her, that attitude has not changed even in the face of cancer. She starts her second round of chemo next week, and I pray that it goes as well as the first, and that she is able to continue working and exercising as she did after her first round. But, even if she gets down physically, I expect her to stay up mentally. And if she can't, I promise to help with the heavy lifting of her spirits.

There's No Place Like Home

2005-07-14T13:57:00.000-07:00

Phew! It has been a whirlwind two weeks. Where shall I begin?

Well, I am officially a SAHM. My last day at work was odd, but in a good way. I keep likening it to graduating high school or college: on one hand, I was really excited about what lay ahead, but on the other hand, I was definitely nostalgic for what I was leaving behind. My team had a little party for me and all said some really nice things. I am leaving a great set of colleagues who I certainly admire and respect. I know that even if I do go back to work one day, I'll never encounter a group of people like this again.

So, the day after my last day of work, my husband, daughter and I all boarded a plane to go back East for a week. We had a great time celebrating July 4th and my mom's 60th birthday. We spent much of the week at the Jersey shore which was Sofia's introduction to the beach. She loved the water, but wasn't sure about the sand. And, the boardwalk was her "scene" -- as we strolled down the boardwalk, she waved at all the other kids to strolled or walked by her. It was hilarious!

It's funny, but I really think that on this trip she turned the corner from infanthood to toddlerhood. All of a sudden, her cognitive skills have transformed and she is able to grasp so many new concepts. Now when I mention the name of objects like her froggie or her brush, or her bottle, she knows what I am talking about. She now knows where her toes are and can give me kisses. It's amazing how suddenly she has evolved into a toddler. And, it's daunting -- don't blink because you *will* miss something.

I also got to spend some me-time while we were away. I left Sofia with her grandparents (my hubbie had already come back home to CA) and spent the weekend in NYC with my girlfriends from college. What a blast! Not only was it fantastic to shed the mommy/wife roles for a little while and be just a single girl again, but it was so wonderful to re-connect with five amazing friends. These women are all so special in their own ways. They're lawyers, execs, moms, wives, living in Boston, NY, Austin, and Nashville. Here we are 10+ years removed from college, living such different lives and yet when we all come together, it's as if no time has passed at all. We fall into the same comfortable roles we all had when we were 18 years old. Of course the weekend went too quickly, and I am looking forward to another reunion weekend within the next year.

After ten days, Sofia and I finally made it home. She wasn't bad on the plane, but I swear, I will never travel cross-country with daughter and sans husband again. It was just too much work! Try keeping a curious, cranky 11-month old who will not nap occupied in coach for 5+ hours. Arrghh!

So, we finally get home, and I am already to get settled in to my new life and new routine when Sofia develops a fever. Not just any fever, but a HIGH fever -- we're talking more than 104 degrees. If that doesn't shake up a relatively new parent I don't know what will. The heat was just radiating from her and she was soaking both herself and me with her sweat. And there was nothing I could do except just keep her on baby Motrin. I think I have never felt so helpless as a parent. Fortunately, she seems to be on the mend. The fever has broken, and she's just slightly cranky. Welcome to Stay-Home-Momhood, I guess.

T-4 and Counting...

2005-06-27T19:52:00.000-07:00

Today was the first day of my last week of work -- just four days left. It's finally hitting me now that I am leaving. I am beginning to get a little nostalgic about the things that I am leaving behind -- comraderie, an amazing set of colleagues, a collegial atmosphere, free food. And I am thinking about all I've built here and wondering what will happen to my work once I've left. Will I leave a legacy, or will my efforts be forgotten and wasted? Of course, there is a lot of bullshit and angst that I won't miss either. As I sit in meetings and listen to folks puzzle out different issues, I think to myself, "That's an interesting problem *you* have." Starting next week, my biggest issues are going to be naptimes and getting Sofia (my daughter) not to throw her bottle.

So, Sofia has started a couple of new behaviors that I am hoping are just part of a veerrry temporary phase. First, she has started screaming at the tops of her lungs when she wants (or doesn't want) something. Yikes! It's ear-splitting. We're actually taking a cross-country flight at the end of the week and I am praying that she doesn't decide to practice this new skill during the flight. I just know I am going to be one of those harried parents of a screaming baby that I used to shoot dirty looks at in my pre-parent days. Oh, paybacks are a bitch.

And her second very endearing behavior is her refusal to eat what I give her. This is a child who used to Hoover up whatever I gave her -- and I gave her some nasty stuff (pureed broccoli, oatmeal, and tofu anyone?) Now, she's literally pushing my hand away when I try to feed her. I think she wants to feed herself, but she's not really adept at grasping the spoon yet. So, instead of ending up in her mouth, the food lands all over her shirt, in her hair, up her nose, in her ears, etc. Combine that with the blood-curdling screams and you can see what mealtimes have devolved to. Actually, it's not that different from work. Hell, maybe I should stay at work -- at least I get paid! :)

Quack. Quack.

2005-06-23T13:52:00.000-07:00

Well, here it is, the first post of my new blog. I am officially eight days away from being a SAHM (Stay-At-Home-Mom to the uninitiated). Here I sit at my desk at work trying to wrap up the loose ends and projects that I'll be passing on to other members of my team. In reality, there isn't much left for me to do anymore -- I've been handing off assignments for a couple of weeks now and not taking on new ones. So, while I have a few hours of work to do each day, I definitely don't have enough to fill up a full work day. I am officially on "lame duck" status. Quack. Quack.

Yesterday I skipped out early to go shopping at Anthropologie. As luck would have it, they were having a sale. So, of course I proceeded to buy $600 worth of sale (and some non-sale) items. Yikes. Not sure how I managed that. Now that I am going to be among the unemployed, I am going to have to pare down the intensity and frequency of my little shopping trips.

It's a little weird to think of myself without a regular paycheck. I've been getting paychecks since I was 16 years old. Hell, over summer vacations in college I often juggled two, sometimes three jobs. I worked all through graduate school, too. And here I am at 34 years old with a kid and two mortgages about to divest myself of a paycheck. I've never really felt guilty about how much money I spend since I have always earned my own money. But, now I'll be spending the money my husband earns. Weird. I wonder if I'll get an allowance?!? Hah!

Honestly, though, I have been pretty lucky. I work for a well-known dotcom company that has afforded me the opportunity to do this. My husband and I have been fortunate enough that we can realize the plans that we created when we first got engaged -- to be able to afford to live on one income while one of us stayed home to raise our kid(s). Okay, a lot of it was luck, but at the risk of ringing my own bell, I have to say that I've also worked my ass off to get to this point. I don't want to mention the company's name while I am still working here, but it at times has sucked the very life out of me. It's an amazing place that folks read about in the press all the time -- the perks are not to be rivaled. But, the place takes its pound of flesh in return. Before my daughter was born, I worked long hours, worked at home during the evenings, worked on weekends -- basically the typical dotcom Silicon Valley lifestyle. Once I came back to work after maternity leave, the schedule was even worse as I tried to divide my days among two jobs: motherhood and corporate.

But, I don't have to cover all the ground now. I guess I'll have some time to expound on my experiences as a working mom. In the meantime, I'll go back to my email and try to kill time before I can reasonably leave for the day. Quack. Quack.