Friday Flashback - What's so great about the Fall?

Friday Flashback is all about bringing to light some of my favorite posts from my archives to breathe new life into them. I'm reposting this because last night we had to add a blanket to our bed; a sure sign that Fall has arrived! This was originally published in September 08.

What's so great about the Fall?

As I tossed and turned last night in bed trying to get warm I grumbled about the start of Fall. Then this morning I read this at The Inspired Room, and well, I got inspired. Odd how that works. So instead of ranting, I'm going to go all Pollyanna on you and give you 20 things I treasure about Fall.

1) It's cool enough to cuddle at night. Which is great because I seem to be popular these days. M, C, and Little L keep fighting for who gets to sleep in my arms.
2) Pretty leaves changing colors. In CA we don't get a lot of this, but every so often we turn a corner and spot a gorgeous tree aflame with colors and it leaves us breathless.
3) I can drink a late night cup of tea without needing to take a cool shower after. 'Nuf said.
4) Flannel jammies. I know it's not sexy, but they're oh so cozy and I've missed them.
5) Orange and Black. I love watching Halloween decorations pop up right and left.
6) School supplies. I know, it's odd, but nothing soothes my frazzled brain like row after row of neatly organized school supplies. If that makes me a dork, so be it.
7) Slow cooker meals. Something about Fall makes me long for slow cooked stews and other yumminess.
8) Pie. Warm. With heavy cream ladled on top.
9) Art and wine festivals. Sure it's always the same stuff, but I still love going.
10) The beach in the cold. I love taking a walk on the sand when it's cold and the wind is blowing.
11) Fluffy slipper socks. Especially when you slip them on before getting on the couch.
12) Huddling under a blanket with a loved one to read books or watch a movie. Goodnight Moon is oh, so much better under a fleece blanket.
13) Soup! Butternut squash. Carrot ginger. Cream of mushroom. Yum.
14) Putting the kids to bed when it's already dark. What? That totally counts.
15) Car seat warmers. Toasty tushies.
16) Apples! Apple pie, apple crumble, apple sauce, apple chicken, apples and honey, apples, apples, apples!
17) The smell of chimney fires.
18) Sweaters. Wool or cotton? Thick or thin? Doesn't matter as long as they are cozy.
19) Scarves. Stylish or functional. Love 'em all.
And last, but not least
20) The feel of cold little noses when you get hugs and kisses from little ones coming in from the cold.

Happy Halloween everyone, and happy Fall!

The Challenge of a Social Media Friendly Workplace

When I started blogging, blogging wasn't cool. We were a secret little community online, and trust me, we didn't broadcast to our friends, family, or coworkers that we had an "online journal."

The first year I went to BlogHer I told everyone I knew that I was going to a writer's conference. I just couldn't admit to being that geeky. And of course I wanted to make sure that the people at work never, ever found out that I was blogging.

My blog was my private space, my place to vent about work and life, and I just didn't want them reading it. Not even when blogging became hip.

Once I left that job and the risk of getting "Dooced*" vanished, I opened up about my blog. I stopped writing under an alias and started promoting myself everywhere I could. It felt great to be able to let my friends and family in and it felt even better to be able to point to my blog whenever anyone wanted to see what I was capable of writing.

But there was no risk. I worked for myself. I wasn't going to offend anyone, I wasn't going to spill company secrets or upset a client, and I wasn't going to write a gut wrenching post and have to face coworkers who might have read it the next morning.

Then on Monday I started a job at Tiny Prints where all my coworkers not only know a thing or two about social media and blogging, but they're my friends online, they've read my blog, and they have blogs of their own. Before I went to my interview I knew more about the whole team than I knew about some of my longtime coworkers at my old job.

I am loving working in an environment where everyone breathes and lives social media. It's my world. It's what I've been doing for years. It's been my passion for a long time and it's thrilling to both meet other people who are passionate about it and to feel like all my knowledge is valuable and useful.

But there's no doubt that there's a certain nail biting, stressful aspect to it too.

I mean, last week I would so have blogged about the stress rash that is driving me crazy, today, I'm hesitant to go there. And there are other topics that I'm loath to blog about that a week ago I would have delved into without hesitation.

I'm sure that soon I'll be over the novelty of constantly being around people who read my posts and my tweets, but there's no doubt that it's by far the biggest adjustment I'm facing this week.

*Getting fired for writing about your job or employer.

Sleep interrupted

It's early, really early. The birds haven't even started up their daily cacophony outside our window. I'm sleeping the really deep sleep of someone who went to bed way too late and knows that she has to sleep hard because she isn't going to sleep long.

Little L's cry roused me partially and I listened out to see if she was just crying out in her sleep. She cried out again and coughed. I listened more closely. She coughed again, harder, and I dragged myself out of bed. I'm still sleepy and I keep my eyes at half mast. If I can get through this interruption without waking up all the way it'll be that much easier to slide right back into sleep.

Once in the girls' darkened room I make my way to Little L's crib where I find her sitting up, looking confused. I hand her a sippy cup of water which she grabs. She gulps at the water and holds the cup out vaguely in my direction. Her head is drooping; she's as awake as I am.

"Hey babe, let me change your diaper, then you can go back to sleep," I murmur. She nods sleepily and lies down without complaint. I quickly change her and zip her back up. Long before I'm done her eyes slide shut, and she barely notices when I tuck her blanket snuggly around her.

"Sleep tight," I whisper as I tiptoe back to the door. I'm still drowsy, another moment and I'll be back in bed.

"Mama?" Her sleepy voice calls from the crib. I pause, holding my breath. If I stay up much longer I won't be able to go back to sleep.

"Yes, babe?"

"Mama, I wuv you."

I smile and slip out of her room. I rarely get to sleep through the night, but sometimes there's more to life than sleep.

Happy Love Thursday everyone. May your nights always be filled with love.

Crazy, rushed, mad, exausting, awesome day

Last night I finally shut down my computer at 12:45. Then I tidied the kitchen, started a load of laundry, changed Little L's diaper, tucked C in tightly, brushed my teeth, got the girls' clothes ready for the morning, found their shoes and socks, and plugged in my cell phone.

Then I crawled into bed and finally fell asleep around 1:15.

At 6:30am hacking coughs from the girls' bedroom roused me from a deep sleep. I held my breath as I waited to hear if more was coming. More came, so I dragged myself out of bed to go give Little L a small dose of Chestal, which luckily soothed her throat enough to allow her to slide back into sleep. I hustled back to my own bed.

I finally dragged myself out of bed for real after M got out of the shower at 7:10 and from that moment on I didn't stop moving for the rest of the day.

I got myself dressed, ironed some pants, dressed the girls, brushed their hair, made myself some tea, got everyone into the car, rushed off to daycare, forgot my tea (sob!), dropped off the girls, learned that Little L had bitten her best friend and drawn blood the day before (Sorry A!), rushed off to work, worked, found the coffee (score!), went to a meeting, worked, had more coffee, went to another meeting, packed up, rushed off to pick up some lunch, dashed north to my other job, crammed two hours of work and lunch into 45 minutes, attended another (oh so long) meeting, rushed off to pick up the girls from daycare, got there five minutes late, checked that no-one bit anyone, hustled everyone into the car, headed home while everyone talked a mile a minute about their days, ran into the house, changed (icky work clothes), ran back out of the house, got everyone back into the car, hurried to McDonald's (restaurant for the tired mommies), ate a lovely (snort) dinner, had an email spaz, ranted to M about the afternoon email, dragged the girls and M to Costco to get diapers, discovered that Costco members get a special deal on Bail Bonds, giggled all the way home, bathed the kids as fast as possible, got everyone into snug PJs, passed them off to M for bedtime reading/milk, cracked open the computer, did the edits that caused the McDonald's email tantrum, sent them off to the graphic designed who was waiting for them, tucked the girls into their beds, kissed them good night and threatened bodily harm to anyone who uttered a peep (kidding, I just threatened to take away respective pacifiers/stuffies/etc.), and then I finally collapsed on the couch.

Which is where I am still sitting two hours later. Oh how I love my couch.

There were moments today when I had painful flashbacks to the dark days when Little L never slept and I had to force myself to keep putting one foot in front of the other just to get through the days. And yet, even as I was conscious of the bone deep exhaustion that gripped me today, I never felt that despair that used to overshadow all those days. Despite the tired, despite the lack of morning tea, despite the lack of lunch time, despite the endless afternoon meeting, and yes, despite the end of day editorial tantrum, it was still an awesome day.

I used my brain, I said smart things, I did work that I was proud of, I felt valued and appreciated, and I had fun even as I stifled yawns and garbled my words. It was a good day. And since I'll probably be getting more sleep tonight than last night, tomorrow might be even better. How sweet is that?

The Mystery of the Mysterious Job Revealed

I didn't mean to be all cagey yesterday, honest! I was just hoping to distract you all with some deep rooted angst while I found out what my new employer's blogging about work policy might be. Apparently distracting you failed.

No worries, I'm not holding it against you.

I had a lovely first day of work. I was a mere three minutes late to my orientation, which might have been worse if I had been the only one going to said orientation. Luckily I was one of many and I managed to slip into the packed room virtually unnoticed.

And I wouldn't have been late if I hadn't realized that my pants were stained just as we were about to leave the house. After trying on five other outfits I figured that a tiny stain was better than either too casual, too tight, or too fancy and I put the original outfit back on.

Hopefully my witty banter and chipper attitude distracted everyone from my stained pants.

Hey! A girl can always hope! And then she should probably do some laundry.

And after that she should tell you all what you wanted to know. Sheesh.

As of this morning I'm officially a member of the Tiny Prints marketing team. For those of you who haven't yet had the pleasure of discovering Tiny Prints, it's a lovely company that makes gorgeous custom stationery. Where they (we) excel is on the customer service side. Nothing at Tiny Prints is "you get what you get." There is a lengthy verification process that goes through multiple people who all carefully check your holiday cards, birth announcements, or anything else that you want customized. You ask for a birth announcement to present your 45lb cherub to the world and someone is going to call to make sure you didn't mean to type 4.5lb. Spell Christmas with a K and someone is going to call you too. Get this, customer service will even call you to give you photography tips so that your pictures can be truly awesome.

It is a really neat company filled with awesome people and I'm really excited to get a chance to join them. I'm not 100% sure what I'll be doing there yet, but I'm willing to bet it's going to be a lot of fun. Aside from the work which already looks promising, in the three hours that I was there today I got no fewer than three invitations to office parties.

Which doesn't bode too well for those already too-tight pants that I tried on this morning, but is going to beat the socks off my daily solo coffee dates.

Starting a New Chapter

For a little over a year I've worked from home. I got up when the girls dictated, but we left the house when we were good and ready to start our days. Sometimes it was at 9, sometimes closer to 10. Trust me, it was rarely, if ever, before 8:30.

I have loved the low key, mellow side to working for myself. I have loved being able to go for a run on the mornings I feel antsy, calling a friend for a last minute lunch or coffee date, being able to dash out to run errands or do a little shopping. I've become a regular at the Starbucks near the girls' daycare because it's where I do some of my best work. And I have relished being in charge of my schedule and my days. I knew what needed to be done and when it needed to be done by. I managed my to do list in function of my family and my life.

But best of all, I have loved being able to answer "I'm a freelance writer" when people asked me what I did for a living. 14 months into it and I still get a thrill when I present myself as a writer.

Despite all that, tomorrow morning I'm going to roll out of bed before 7, dress the girls well before they are used to being dressed, and I'm going to drop them off at daycare over an hour earlier than usual. Then I'm going to point my car in the opposite direction from my favorite Starbucks, my running route, or my home, and I'm going to take myself to my new job.

In an office.

I'll be there five days a week, part time. I'll have to wear 'real' clothes - read 'not yoga pants.' I'll be part of a team, a really, really great team. And I'll be mostly working on things that have nothing to do with writing.

It would be lying to say that I don't have very mixed feelings about starting this new chapter of my life. On the one hand I'm very excited to be doing something new and to once again have co-workers. My last team has left me scarred in ways that I'm still discovering and I'm thrilled to get a chance to work with a functional and supportive group of people. On the other hand, I'm loath to let go of my "I'm a freelance writer in charge of my own schedule" freedom.

All week I have been having severe anxiety about this new development, but I've been working hard to talk myself down. I'm still going to be the person I've been this past year. I'm still going to be a writer. I'm still going to be me.

I'll just be better dressed and a little less caffeinated.

Letting my inner Martha loose

The organization seminar that I attended a month ago has really started something magical around here. We're actually trying to be more organized and to a certain extend, we're succeeding! The mail situation is still very much under control. The laundry is staying the course. But until this weekend the out of control artwork situation was still out of hand.

Not anymore though! I went all Martha on it.

The problem was that C and Little L, on average, produce anywhere from 5 to 10 pieces of art a day. And yes, much of that can hit the trashcan, but some of it is really good. And at the very least it's stuff they're quite proud of.

I came up with a plan that would both get rid of the piles and piles of art that pile up everywhere and allow them to display their art with pride.

An art wall.

We had a blank wall, I found some ribbon and small binder clips. And presto, the art wall was born.
The girls decided what went up and they will decide what will come down when it's time to switch things around. Then I'll put the pieces that come down away in a safe place. Everything has been dated and named so that ten years down the road we know who made what.

They're so proud to show their wall of art to every visitor. I'm thrilled I finally found a place to store all their art and something to cover that wall! It still hasn't solved the issue of all the art materials that are lying around, but I'm sure my inner Martha will find something to do with it soon enough.

Disney Digital Books, a great idea with a few issues

Last night a few of my blogging friends and I gathered for a presentation of Disney Publishing's latest big product: Disney Digital Books.

Now, when you consider that Disney owns all of the rights to all of it's books and that all of them have already been digitized for easy distribution to 85 different countries, it's not hard to understand why creating a website to house all those digital books was nothing short of brilliant.

I mean, picture it, over 500 books laid out in all their artistic glory, for kids to enjoy at the click of a mouse? The books are organized by reading level, but can be searched by character or theme. Once the child is done reading a book he can place it on a shelf where it can be easily accessed again. And if your child has a friend or two who also uses the site, she can send them a canned email message with a link to that book.

But the site goes further than just presenting books that can be read, it turns reading into an interactive experience. For the little ones, the site reads the books out loud, highlighting words as they are spoken for early reading awareness. For older kids who are reading on their own, the software is equipped with a handy dictionary tool, which gives the definition of the word, but also pronounces it. And creatively minded kids can use the Story Builder function to decorate and narrate their own books. (Kids pick images from the selection offered and fill in the blanks in prepared text.)

It's a neat product with huge potential. As an avid reader, mom to two other avid readers, it's hard not to be excited at the thought of so many books being just a mouse click away, but my bloggy friends and I still left the presentation with a few concerns.

First: While I know that this might be an issue that doesn't affect the country at large, a few of us found it frustrating that, knowing that Disney Publishing has digitized versions of their books in countless languages, the site only offers books in English. A Spanish component is slated to be added later in the year, but to access books in other languages parents will have to join the sites in those countries as the sites are rolled out. Your US membership won't automatically grant you access to those foreign sites with their treasure trove of foreign language books.

Second. While $8.95/month ($79.95/year) doesn't seem like much to be paying when you consider that you get access to over 500 books, month after month it does add up. And yes, I know, one children's book might run me that if I bought it in a store, but once I buy that book I can take it anywhere with me - the car, a restaurant, or even a plane. And if I'm really hankering for a huge selection of books, I can always join my library for free.

Third. I was thoroughly impressed with the quality of the graphics and the incredible selection of materials, but I kept thinking of places this could be a fun way to distract my kids and realizing that I wouldn't be able to use this product in any of them. It's a web based product with no option to download any selected books. And there's no mobile phone or Reader version yet. So no, you can't take that beloved Princess book on a plane, in the car, or even into a restaurant, you have to read it on a computer that has web access and that's that.

If you happen to be a family where both parents are self conscious about accents or language issues, then this is an awesome product. If you want to expand your child's library and make reading a bit glitzier and cool, then this is an awesome product. But if you're already a family who reads avidly and has hundreds of books at home, then you're going to have to ask yourself if this is really worth $9/month to you. Me, I'm still not sold. But if they ever expand the foreign language selection I'll be all over it! I'd pay much more for access to 500 books in french!

First memories

I was four when my baby sister was born, and while I don't remember her birth, I do remember when she got sick shortly after and had to be taken back to the hospital. Or rather I remember my mother coming home with an empty baby carrier.

I was probably four or five when I started preschool. I remember the school, the little green metal bridge we had to cross to reach the classrooms, the three classrooms, the candy that the teacher used to give us when we did something well, I even remember the vaccine clinics that they held. I'd say I remember the closing awards ceremony, but I think that my personal memories have been squashed by the photos I've seen of that time.

I have a few other spotty memories from that time. Carrying a scared kitten down the stairs and feeling the pain when the dog barked and the kitten clawed his way to the top of my head. The rush of fear and pain when my brand new penny loafers lost their grip at the top of our wooden staircase. Blood pouring out of my mouth after a stick punctured the roof of my mouth. Lying to my mother about cutting my finger with my sister's pen knife. Being scared to talk on the phone.

Try as I might I have nothing from before that time. My first years, my first home, all of it is lost to me.

When C was little I always marveled at her amazing memory. She remembered where she left her toys, her sippy cups, my keys. She knew where our house was, and the location of her usual McDonald's. She could even "read" her favorite books. And yet I knew that none of it would last. Few people have memories from before they were 4.

It was a bit comforting that 4 year-old limit. If I could create a warm comforting home, she'd remember the overall feel of it, but she'd forget the minute details. It gave me a bit of leeway. Say, the right to not always cook a meal from scratch, or not to read bedtime stories every day.

But now she's 4. And everyday she's making memories that she might remember.

Will it be her new school? Her daycare? Our trip to the pumpkin patch? Will it be baking pizza with Little L and I? Will it be playing dolls with her sister and her father early one Saturday morning? Will it be our outing to see Princesses on Ice?

There's no way to know and that raises the ante. I'm fighting the urge to make sure it's all perfect and special, so that those first memories are happy ones. And at the same time I need to remember to take a deep breath and let it go. Making their childhood happy overall is more important than making a few special memories.

But I'm still curious about what will make the cut. And I'm grateful that with Little L I still have a little leeway.

Pumpkin Artiste

It starts with some paint, a pumpkin...

and a vision.

Then the artiste gets to work.

Swirls of paint on a palette...

paintbrush posed...

and a carefully applied dab.

Deep concentration sets in.

And at long last the work of art is finished.

And the artiste sits back.
To contemplate her next masterpiece.

Long lazy wonderful weekends are all too rare and precious

Once in a blue moon, a diamond encrusted miracle takes place: two brilliantly white clear days on the calendar. No scheduled events for a whole weekend.

It's always a fluke, because if you were to ever notice a full unplanned 48 hours you'd instantly find a million important and urgent things to fill the time. Trips to Ikea or Home Depot. Errands that keep getting put off. Huge organization projects. Or even a day excursion that you've always wanted to tackle. God forbid all that precious time go to waste!

This weekend the stars aligned. We had something scheduled both Friday and Sunday evening, so the calendar looked deceptively packed. Add to that the fact that our Saturday afternoon plans were canceled at the last minute and we found ourselves in the presence of that magical thing: a totally free weekend.

Instead of packing up and heading to the beach we opted to stay home. We lazed around, played in the yard, did a few things around the house, covered the front walk in chalk drawings, went to the library, danced in the kitchen, painted some pumpkins, colored, colored, colored, and thoroughly enjoyed the down time.

It was wonderful to not have to run anywhere. It was amazing to just enjoy each other's company. It was sweet to hear C and Little L playing in their rooms with toys they don't always have time to enjoy. And it was heaven to be able to curl up on the couch with my book and read while everyone had their own fun. All in all it was just a good weekend. A good, very low key, low stress, mellow weekend.

I wish we had more just like this, but I checked the calendar, the next two gleaming empty weekend days are far, far way.

Flesh and blood beats paper any day

I read the first Diana Gabaldon Outlander series book long before I knew the series was popular. In fact it was so long ago it might even have been before they were popular. I don't know. I didn't care. All that I cared about was that I had found the perfect man.

He was tough and tender. He was buff and good looking. He was smart and literate, but spoke with a sexy accent. He was exactly the kind of guy I dreamed would swoop in and take me away, making me feel petite and safe all at the same time.

That he was nothing more than a character in a book was completely and utterly besides the point.

A million years or so later I have just started reading the 7th volume in the series, An Echo in the Bone. I was so excited to get this book. Not just because I was going to finally find out the continuation of the story, but because I was going to get to be reunited with my beloved Jamie again.

Oh, Jamie.

But 100 or so pages in I realized that he just wasn't making my heart throb quite as much any more. Was it that he had aged? Was it that I had aged? I just couldn't put my finger on it.

A gentle snore pulled me out of my contemplation and back into my bedroom. I glanced down at M sleeping soundly besides me and I smiled.

Jamie doesn't make my heart race any more because someone else does. I don't need to fantasize over the perfect man, I've found him.

He may not be Scottish and covered in scars. He might never have fought wars in the Highlands or been a pioneer in 18th Century America. But he's tough and tender, he's definitely buff and good looking, and even though he doesn't speak in a sexy Scottish accent, he's unquestioningly smart and literate. And he's so much more than that in every way possible.

Who needs a two dimensional dream man when a flesh and blood three dimensional one shares your bed and your life?

Happy Love Thursday everyone.

Are you the parent your parents were?

I'm willing to bet good money, or at least some of the fantabulous chocolate cupcakes that I made this evening, that at one point or another during your teen years you swore, or even maybe yelled, that you would never do what your parents did or be like your parents were.

Am I right?

I attended another one of the preschool mom's meetings today and we touched on the topic of the kinds of parents we want to be. I'd say we covered the topic, but really who could possibly cover such a loaded subject in a mere hour and a half.

We started by going around and sharing the good things that our parents did that we'd want to do now that we were parents ourselves. Not the bad things. Those were all too easy to come up with. But the good things, the things that helped us get through our childhoods, our teenage hoods, and even now in our adulthoods.

Some of the women there struggled a bit to pinpoint one or two things. Not that they had bad childhoods or that their parents failed at their jobs, just that it was hard to hit on one specific thing. And yes, there was some ugliness and pain that was dug up. But for the most part the stuff that was shared was inspirational and started a great discussion on parenting.

We all come into this with our own personal baggage. How we turn that baggage to our advantage determines the kind of parent we can be.

So how about you? What good things did your parents do that you would like to do now that you are a parent?

For the record, the thing that my mother did that I am actively trying to emulate is making me always feel like I could try anything. Failure or success didn't matter, trying did. My mother always made me feel like it was safe and great to try new things. She was there to comfort me if I failed and there to celebrate with me when things went well. Knowing that she was always there no matter what gave me the courage to spread my wings and let them carry me wherever my heart chose. I'll always be grateful for that and I hope I'll be successful in doing the same for my children.

Wordless Wednesday - Butterfly Princess

First she was given wings.
Then they painted a butterfly on her cheek.

All in the name of welcoming the butterfly back.

Happy Wordless Wednesday.

We put the functional in dysfunctional

I grew up knowing that we had a dysfunctional family. We were just not your classic cookie cutter family that played together, joked together, and vacationed together. We did have dinner as a family every night, but I can remember quite a few meals where none of us spoke. It wasn't always pretty, it wasn't always fun, but it was what it was and we dealt.

Or rather, I dealt. My sisters both ran off to boarding school at some point, leaving me stranded at home. (Not that they had an easy time of it. I read Prep. Cured me of any romantic notions about how awesome boarding school would have been.)

I'm going to spare you the unsightly details, which I'd probably get wrong anyway seeing as I saw them through my distorted perspective, but when I eventually left home (at the ripe old age of 23 like any self respecting french student) I wasn't the only one who left. My mother, father, and I all moved out pretty much at the same time, all heading in our respective directions.

With two sisters living in New York, one parent on one continent, the other on another, and myself out in California, we went from dysfunctional family to exploded family. Seeing as none of us had been particularly close before, we could have easily just left it at that.

Instead my sisters and I rallied. We reached out across state lines and troubled childhood relationships and we held on tight. We clutched at family traditions and reinforced them with our own spin on them. We made a point to call each other more often, to take a greater interest in each other's lives. And miraculously, we turned our dysfunctional family and made it as functional as possible despite the distance and past.

Every year we gather around a Christmas tree brightly decorated with decorations collected by our mother during our childhood. We sit and gorge ourselves on a meal that we have spent days preparing as a family. It's our take on our childhood Christmas tradition, which boasted way more cousins, but food that was barely half as tasty (Unless Mom was cooking that year. Then it was awesome.). And I watch my sisters and marvel that we've stuck together through it all.

I used to dream that I'd have a family as close as the ones portrayed on TV sitcoms. It's taken years, but I finally have it.

This post was written in honor of this month's Silicon Valley Moms Blog book club and the amazing book that we just read: Jonathan Tropper's This is Where I Leave You. I try to never talk about my family here. The stories that we share are not mine to publish. But this book was the most fantastic tale of a truly dysfunctional family and in order to do it justice I had to tap into my past a tiny bit. If you want to feel like your family is positively normal, loving, and wonderful then run to get this book. If that's not what you're looking for in a novel, then just get it so you can enjoy the incredible talent Jonathan Tropper has for description and characterization. If one day I can paint a scene half as well as he can I'll be proud.

Birds, butterflies... they all have wings

I have a fear of birds. A terrible, terrible, cross the street to avoid them, fear of birds. I'm not sure if this fear stems from living amongst the disgusting hoards of Parisian pigeons or from the bizarre poster of Hitchcock's The Birds that I remember being transfixed by as a kid, but suffice it to say that I don't do birds. And that my favorite motto is "a good bird is a dead bird." Preferable dead, on my plate, after being cooked to perfection, and covered in a delectable sauce.

Listen, I never said I was a good person or a friend of the birds.

But if we're being very honest here, and apparently we are, I'm not just afraid of birds, I'm afraid over everything with wings. Butterflies included. Yes, sweet, innocent, butterflies.

They make my skin crawl.

So when a friend invited us to a 'Welcome Back the Monarch Butterflies' event, told M under no uncertain terms that he was more than welcome to take the girls, and that I would wait for them on the couch, at home.

And I really fully intended to do just that. In fact, 20 minutes before they were scheduled to leave I was still in my pajamas and hadn't yet had any breakfast. And that's when M started telling me about the full event - the face painting, the arts & crafts, the music. The girls started to get excited and I tried to explain why I wasn't coming.

Trust me, nothing makes you feel like more of a wuss than trying to explain to a 2 and 4 year old that you're afraid of butterflies. Plus, they were going to have fun! Without me!

I blame the lack of breakfast and the spotty sleep I've had this past week.

20 minutes later I was showered, dressed, fed, and slipping on my shoes. I was still completely unsure about the whole butterfly part of the day, but I figured that I could hang back, far, far away from their migrating hordes. Maybe let M take the girls into the grove to see them close up.

Of course, and I know you guessed this, I got dragged down to the grove. Despite growing anxiety I read all the informative panels about Monarch Butterflies, learning much along the way. And then, moved by the children's enthusiasm, I looked around for butterflies.

We saw one. One, poor, sad little butterfly, clinging to a leaf as hundreds of people ohhhhd and ahhhhd at him. He didn't flap his wings and I didn't freak out.

There's been talk of going back in November when more butterflies will have migrated to Santa Cruz. I'll be sitting out that excursion. It's best not to start a trend. If I go, who knows what they'll convince me to go visit after... probably some fancy bird sanctuary or something. Ugh. Shudder.

Swine Flu Vaccine debate shelved, temporarily

After reading all the comments and thinking hard about what doctors had suggested I decided today to call the pediatrician's office to schedule an appointment to have the girls vaccinated against Swine (aka H1N1).

They received 100 doses early last week and they have already run out. More doses will be available at the end of the month. Call back then please.

That, folks, in case you were wondering, is called irony. Sweet irony.

And so the debate is shelved for now.

Stay tuned for more excitement on the Swine Flu Vaccine Front! Dun, dun, dun...

Still on the Swine fence

I wrote yesterday's post in the hopes of getting lots of feedback from others on what to do about the Swine flu vaccine.

I have to admit that when I wrote the post I was pretty heavily on the "let's not get the vaccine" side of the fence. And the comments that I got here, on Facebook, and on Twitter went a long way to keeping me on that side of the fence.

Then I checked in with a pediatrician friend of mine whose children go to daycare with C and Little L. She works at the nearby children's hospital and she knows both the girls' health issues. In fact, I can't count the number of times I've picked up the girls and been told that they were wheezing, but fine and that they had already been checked out. (Major perks to sharing a daycare with a pediatrician...)

I asked her what she thought of the vaccine situation and she, without hesitation, replied that she was getting the shot and so were her children. Then she looked me in the eye and said that my kids have asthma, they should get the vaccine. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Arg is what I have to say to that.

She did also say that the H1N1 vaccine is the exact same vaccine as the regular flu shot (which the girls got three weeks ago) and that had the timing been better they would have been packaged as one shot. Which would have probably killed the whole controversy dead in the water.

Again, arg is what I have to say.

I have implicit trust in this woman. Count her amongst my friends. Am comforted by the fact that she based all her information and recommendations on long chats with a big infectious diseases muckety muck at the hospital.

And so tonight finds me on the other side of the fence, on the "let's get the vaccine" side.

Stay tuned! Who knows what tomorrow will bring!

Oh the suspense...

To Swine or not to Swine? - Which risk is the right risk?

You know, it's not a manual we need when kids are born. Seriously, what would it say? Put food in one end and diapers on the other? Keep away from sharp objects? Great. Whatever.

No, what kids should come with is a crystal ball. So that you know what to do, what road to take, what decisions to make.

Take, for instance, this issue of the Swine Flu (N1H1) vaccine.

I have two little girls who suffer from asthma. Now granted, it is comparatively mild asthma. It's well controlled with medication. We've never had to dash to the ER in the dead of the night. They get sick, we nebulize, they recover. End of story.

Except that their asthma trigger is being sick. And the flu is one of those things that could potentially really affect them. So every year I dutifully get them flu shots. And last year when M got the flu we pro-actively handed out Tamiflu like it was candy. (To be fair Little L also got sick and tested positive for the flu. Just so you don't think we were being flippant or playing lose with a very serious drug.)

Both girls got their regular flu shots three weeks ago and I was being a good little mommy to little girls with compromised respiratory systems and I eagerly awaiting for the call to say that the N1H1 vaccine was ready and available.

Which it is. Only now I'm on the fence about having the girls take it.

It all started when my sister, a nurse at a very reputable hospital, told my other sister to not get it for her kids. Her coworkers are upset that they are being forced to take an unsafe drug that hasn't been tested enough.

Which is all fine and dandy, but doesn't that leave us with a "which danger is greater?" conundrum? Possible side effects and illness from a drug that isn't ready vs. possible illness or death from a virus.

I jumped online to do a little more research.

Here are the facts that I gathered.

Right now H1N1 is relatively mild. The fear stems from the fact that it might, at some point, mutate into something quite potentially deadly and scary. It also stems from the fact that it doesn't seem to affect the population that is usually affected by the flu - essentially anyone over the age of 40. And from the fact that people with compromised respiratory systems seem to be especially affected.

What do we make of that?
Well, presumably the fact that the older crowd is not affected is because they carry antibodies from being exposed to the Swine flu back in 1976.
If that's the case, then it might be a good idea to let ourselves be exposed to this mild Swine flu so that we might have the necessary antibodies in case the flu mutates as predicted and turns deadly.
Which makes amazing sense until you throw in the compromised respiratory system thing. Because that's what the girls have.

GAH.

I really, really want to adhere to the belief that a little exposure to germs is a good thing. Especially if we know of great medicine that can heal the illnesses caused by those germs. I really, really want to listen to the people who say that the vaccine isn't ready, it isn't safe. But I also have to do the right thing by my children. Can I in all good conscience keep them from a vaccine that could potentially save their lives?

Which risk is the right risk?

And where's my damn crystal ball?

The wonderful terrible twos

When C was Little L's age, 2 1/4, I was in the hospital having Little L. What followed was a long blurry year (heck, a long blurry 18 months), where I didn't sleep, worked full time, dealt with two kids with asthma, and barely made it through every day. It's hardly surprising that I barely remember anything that went on during that time.

And really, it's a shame, because not only did I miss my baby's first year (Seriously, I see pictures of her and I wonder who the cute baby belongs to.), but I also missed C's twos. Poof! No memories. One minute she's a cute 2-year-old toddler with a lisp, next minute she's an articulate three-year-old, telling the world that three-year-olds don't wear diapers.

Now that Little L is entering this interesting age I'm all eyes and ears. I'm making up for lost time, taking it all in, trying to imagine C going through the same growth. Loving seeing Little L go through it. It's a fascinating age.

She switches between being the most delightful, funny, little girl to the most unbelievably difficult, pig headed, little monster in split second increments. One second we want to smother her in kisses and the next we're looking to sell her to passing gypsies.

Her vocabulary is exploding, as are her language skills. She asks for snacks with sweet, polite, complete sentences. She sits at the dining room table and asks us all how we are or how our day went. She "reads" books to herself and her dolls. And yet, she doesn't quite understand wait time. So when she wants something, she repeats her request again and again without giving us time to react. By the third iteration (about 30 seconds after the first) she's already escalated to wails. She's also incapable of articulating why she's upset in the evening as she cries in her crib. Oh, wait. She does articulate it. She says "I cwying." Very, very helpful.

She's super cuddly and sweet. She loves to give hugs. She loves to touch us, pet us, pat us, cuddle us, and just generally be with us at all times. And yet she loves to explore the world around her. Even if that means that she's got to run down every aisle at Costco or Target, laughing hysterically as I try to catch her.

She has to do everything that C does - color, glue, help in the kitchen, sing, dance, run around the house at breakneck speeds pushing rattling doll strollers. It drives C nuts, but the instant Little L goes off to do her own thing, C follows her to see what she's doing.

Even as I'm tearing out my hair and running after her I can't stop marveling at the little person that she's becoming. I'm grateful that I get to appreciate this wonderful and terrible age this time around. Even though I'm increasingly sad that I don't remember C going through it.

Part of a team?

"You've never been a part of a work team that respected and valued you." Her words cut through the chaos in my head and go straight to the heart of my torment.

She's right. Well, actually, she's not all right. I was once part of a great team, that listened and cared when I had something to say. For all of 6 months.

Then I went back to school to get my Masters.

The next job I took was in a completely different field. I assumed I'd get that same respect and consideration. There was no reason I wouldn't.

Except I didn't. It took me years and years to realize that there was no real respect. No real appreciation. And then it took a few more years for it to destroy my self worth and self esteem.

Last year I finally left that place. I wanted to strike out on my own. Try my hand at writing for a living. It's been a fascinating year. I've learned a ton about myself. I've tried my hand at lots of different kinds of writing jobs. I've discovered what I like and what I don't like. And I've found my self esteem again.

My favorite things to write are my blog and my fiction. Neither of which promise to be very lucrative in the near (or even not so near) future. So right now, either I suck it up and keep writing the more lucrative stuff I don't like to write a whole lot or I get a part time job to help pay the bills and finance my writing habit.

I'm OK with going back to work. I really am. It's been a great year. I've loved having my freedom. But at the same time I've been pretty lonely. I miss being part of a team. I miss having coworkers outside of Twitter and Facebook. It's nice that the Starbucks girl knows my regular order, but it's really just not enough.

My problem is that I'm still scarred. My sister is right, I've never been part of a team that really values me and I find it hard to believe that it's possible. So maybe I'm not all the way healed. I might have found my self esteem, but the self worth part of the equation still seems to be missing. Either that or I'm just so jaded that I don't believe that functional work environments exist.

Let's hope that the right job does more than pay the bills. Let's hope it helps me figure it out.

First step on the road to organized living

We're never going to be organized people. We're never going to have the kind of home that's featured in the pages of the Pottery Barn catalog. We're OK with that. Really. We want a comfortable home, not a pristine one.

But we would like a home where guests can stop by on a moment's notice without sending us into a cleaning frenzy. Where papers don't overflow on every surface. Where toys and art projects clutter every room.

Today we took the first step towards that. We sat down and discussed, not what we needed to clean, but rather where the chaos was coming from. We figure if we can understand the origin of the clutter and stem it at the source we stand a better chance at keeping it under control.

So today we established that we have 5 main sources of clutter.

1) The mail - it comes in, it piles up, we ignore it... the piles breed. It gets ugly fast.
2) The girls' art projects - two prolific little artists who color every waking moment create a lot of artwork. A lot.
3) The outgrown clothes - why do we keep feeding these kids? They grow every day and outgrow their clothes every other day!
4) The things that I get for review - boxes everywhere as far as the eye can see.
5) Papers - school papers, work papers, lots and lots of papers.

We started by setting up shelves in the garage where some of the bigger boxes and bins of outgrown kid clothes have gone to rest. Then M purged the front hall closet. And then I tackled the outgrown clothes.

We still have a ways to go. A long, long ways to go. We've taken a stab at the mail and set up a system that might work. And we have plans for how to handle the art work explosion. We even have a plan for all the rest. And we're really very motivated for putting it all into place.

It's all very exciting. And I promise I'll let you know when it's all done. You know, in case you ever want to stop in on a moment's notice.

Starbucks Goes Instant.

In a move that's going to make Starbucks even more famous, (if that were possible) this week the major coffee corporation launched a product that has been 20 years in the making.

VIA. Instant coffee.

I know. I know. Your grandma was drinking Sanka long before the 80s. VIA ain't your grandma's Sanka.

Instead of dehydrating brewed coffee and pulverising it, Starbucks figured out how to take real coffee beans and grind them so fine that the powder produced dissolves instantly in water - hot or cold. To make sure that you realize there's a difference, they're calling it ready brew, not instant.

It really did take them 20 years to figure out the process, so it's understandable that the Starbucks executives are insanely excited to finally present this gold dust to its customers.

And it is gold dust. Fine powder that smells exactly like coffee should smell.

Slip a packet or two in your pocket so you're never home without a cup of decent coffee. Or do what the foodies around the world are going to do - hunt down some recipes that call for coffee powder and have at it. I'm thinking that VIA rubbed on a nice steak would be amazing, especially if we follow it up with some chocolate mocha iced brownies.

Mix a little packet of the VIA Instant Brew in exactly 8oz of cold or hot water and you'll have yourself a cup of coffee that you probably won't be able to tell hasn't been freshly brewed.

Not convinced? Head over to a Starbucks any time between Friday, October 2 to Monday, October 5 and take part in the taste test challenge. Starbucks is pretty confident you won't be able to tell which cup is instant and which cup is drip coffee. Most of their experts couldn't tell, why would you?

Cliff Burrows Starbucks US President,
presenting VIA to a gawking group of press mavens like myself (snort).
He prefers the Colombian. Me, the Italian Roast.

Organization is not my middle name

Yesterday I attended the second of the mom events at the fabulous new preschool. I figured that since the first event had been so awesome I was in for a treat. Plus, it was about adding a little organization to our lives and let's just say that that's something I could use a little lot of.

Uh.

OK. A LOT of.

I felt pretty confident as the talk started. I've tried over the years to inject a little organization into our lives. I sorted out the whole laundry thing and organized some of the cupboards. But apparently I barely made a dent.

Rumor has it that the state of my closets puts me right in the "pretty lacking in the organization department." (You can spot one of my closets and what happened to the laundry room in pictures here.) And the rest of the talk sent me into a tailspin of despair that ended with me having officially given up any hope to ever be organized. And at one point the speaker stopped looking in my direction as she valiantly plowed through her talk. I think I was upsetting her. Or maybe it was my questions that hinted at how bad things were at home. Poor woman. I hope she's recovered.

Tip #1 was to not keep anything in our heads, but to write them down. Which would be fine, if I could ever remember where I wrote things down.

Tip #2 was to have special baskets assigned to everything. We did not, however, cover what to do when the baskets overfill and the stuff piles up around them.

Tip #3 was to have one calendar and only one calendar. Which is all fine and dandy, but they said that the big family calendar on the fridge was not the ideal solution. Sadly it's the only solution that has ever worked for me, so I fail at that too. (Though I have been meaning to get my Cozi calendar up and running. Maybe I can finally convince M to get onto that page...)

Tip #4 was to pick up as you go so that you're not always overwhelmed with what has to be done. What to do about the children who take out what you've just put away was not addressed.

But to be fair, it was not all a wash. I gleaned some ideas that might work and more than a few good tips about where to start. And, honest, once we've cleared some space in the garage I'm going to start clearing out some of the closets so I can get the rest of the house whipped into shape.

Or maybe I'll buy a few bins and baskets and place them around the house strategically. It'll look great... until they start to overflow.