Another Halloween comes and goes

C was so excited about Halloween this year. She talked about it non-stop for weeks and for once I thought we'd get out without any incident.

We went trick-or-treating in town yesterday and she held her own, only balking once or twice at some particularly freaky masks. Then, tonight, faced with countless people coming to the door and the growing dark outside she all of a sudden freaked out and point blank refused to go out.

She's been working so hard to overcome her fear of people in costumes, but this was just not going to be the Halloween she'd dreamed of for weeks. Instead of heading out with my Minnie Mouse and Sassy Ladybug, I headed out with a hastily redressed Snow White (Minnie Mouse got her dress wet during dinner.) and left the sad ladybug hiding in her room.

Two years ago I would have pressured her into coming out. I would have cajoled and begged, even maybe threatened. Tonight I just made sure that she was doing exactly what she wanted, grabbed my camera, and headed out with Little L and some friends.

It wasn't the ideal Halloween, but it worked. Little L had a blast and when we came back, we found C watching the Giants game with her dad, cozy on the couch, not a tear in sight. I didn't have to soothe any fears before bed and I know that there won't be any nightmares tonight.


It was just another night when accepting who my kids are, trumped experiencing things the way we idealize them.

From It's my life...

From It's my life...

Odd cat diet

I recently heard that cats imprint what constitutes acceptable food at a very early age. In order to get your cat to eat lots of different foods and not turn its nose up at anything but the one can of cat food he's always eaten, you need to present a ton of different options.

Kind of like feeding a toddler.

When we welcomed the still nameless cat into our home I ordered a bunch of all-natural kitten food and started feeding him scraps of this and that.

Seems I shouldn't have worried. Whoever fed him for the first ten months of his life did a great job at varying his diet. He has a broad notion of what constitutes acceptable food for a cat.

Yeah, that's a waffle. Buttermilk if you must know, Safeway brand. He usually prefers them with peanut butter, but he'll take them plain too. No breakfast is safe around this cat. Neither is any chocolate. The mere smell makes him frantic to get some. I think he made out with a chocolate bar wrapper last week.

And I thought our last cat was odd.

A day to celebrate all authors

C is learning to read, which, from my point of view as a writer and avid book lover, is possibly the most exciting thing she could ever learn. I see her start to grasp how letters work together and how words then string together to form sentences and her eyes just light up.

It's a beautiful thing to see.

I gushed about reading in the car the other day, waxing poetic about all the books she'd soon be able to discover. In my mind I was making a long list featuring all my favorite childhood books. (Come on, who else used to read Trixie Belden? I know I'm not the only one!)

"Yeah, they've sure been busy." C said, interrupting my fond thoughts of Mrs Piggle Wiggle and all the other fun books I can't wait to share with my kids.

"Who? Who's been busy?" I asked in an effort to pick up the thread of a conversation I was oblivious I was having.

"The writers! All the people who write the books! They've been writing lots of them."

I thought about all the books lining all the shelves of all the bookstores in the world and just nodded my head.

"You know Mommy? We should really have a whole day when we just say thank you to all the writer for all the hard work they do."

And... that's pretty much when my heart exploded with love for this little girl who at the ripe old age of 5 already understands how precious books are and gets the awesomeness that are authors.

I explained to her that Literacy Month kind of is a whole month all about saying thank you to authors, but she wasn't convinced that it was quite enough. So then I explained that you can always write a letter to the author of a book you loved to say thank you. It's something I only recently started doing back when I started writing my own book and realized how much a pat on the back and hearty thank you might one day be very welcome.

Writing an email or a letter to an author you admire is really its own reward, but when that person writes back and thanks you for your note, that my friends, is just amazing. I'm glad I started saying thank you in more than just my head and I'm proud that my daughter didn't wait until she was a grown-up to realize that she should do just that.

Once again the bane of my days... packing lunch

Every weekday eventing, and Sundays, it's the exact same thing. 10pm rolls around and I start to get sleepy. I glance at my to do list and decide whether or not I can wrap up soon. And then, just as the thoughts of my bed are infiltrating every brain cell that's still awake and functioning... I remember that I still have to pack C's lunch.

I hate packing C's lunch.

Let me preface the rest of this rant with the fact that I don't just have to pack her a lunch, I also have to pack her a morning snack and an afternoon snack. Seriously, since when do kids need a morning snack? Whatever happened to Breakfast, Lunch, Snack, and Dinner?

Then let me explain that the school is peanut and treenut free and that C doesn't eat sandwiches unless they're filled with a delightful mixture of peanut butter and jelly.

In fact, the child doesn't eat many things, so I end up packing three variations of cheese or yogurt and fruit or veggie, for the lunch portion I go all crazy like and throw in some sliced turkey.

The start of the school year was only a few weeks ago and I'm already bored to tears with my lunch packing options. I can only imagine how bored C is getting with eating the same thing day in and day out.

I tried switching it up, threw in some cheesy noodles in a thermos one day... they came home barely picked over. I try to add some edamame every few days, but more often than not that doesn't get eaten either. The only thing she sometimes lets me get away with is when I get fancy with different flavors of squeezy apple sauces.

I know! I can barely contain my excitement either.Shoot me now.

I could maybe get behind the whole same-lunch-every-day thing if packing it wasn't such a pain. Of course my eco-conscious brain had to open its big trap and freak out at the thought of 750 meals requiring multiple ziploc bags each. (3 bags per meal would equal over 2000 ziplocs getting thrown away every year. Eeeps!) So I went and bought some reusable containers... and some reusable ziploc type bags. And every night before I pack her lunch I have to wash everything, and dry everything.

The last time I was doing this much nightly dish washing, C was an infant and I was packing her lunch in breast milk bottles.

There is no magic solution to my lunch packing woes. C won't overnight broaden her dietary horizons. The school's peanut policy is never going to be lifted, nor are they going to be offering a hot lunch any time soon. And the bags and containers are never going to clean themselves.

I just want to know that when 11pm rolls around I'm not the only one in my kitchen hating the lunch packing life.

Sometimes you get exactly what you ask for... and then some

This morning I ran around like I usually do, getting the girls fed, dressed, hair brushed, nebulized, and everything else that we have to do before leaving the house. The routine was no different than any other day except for the fact that we were also kissing M goodbye for a few days.

He's in the middle of a trial and is opting to stay in the city for the week so he doesn't have to deal with the heinous Bay Area traffic.

We kissed him goodbye and went back to the harried routine. I do this every day. I'm good at the morning routine - from the jumping out of bed to the waking up the kids all the way through to the buckling of everyone (and everything - dolls get buckled too) into the car. It's harried, but it doesn't throw me off my game.

This morning I was off my game.

I just felt frazzled, off, and overwhelmed. And as I drove the girls to school and daycare I just kept thinking that I needed five minutes of peace and quiet so I could find my calm center again.

With the girls safely dropped off I realized I had a spare hour before I needed to be at Starbucks (to be introduced to the new in house Starbucks Digital Network - totally cool by the way.), so I decided to stop by Office Depot for a moment.

Fine. It might not be the most normal thing, but all that organization at Office Depot makes me feel all zen and calm. It's just so neat and orderly. The polar opposite of my life and home.

I pulled up, grabbed my phone and my wallet, and for some inexplicable reason, chucked my keys into my purse... which I then left in the car. You know. The car that I locked as I was stepping out of it.

Today Office Depot did not work its zen magic on me. Instead I walked around trying to find my insurance roadside assistance number. Once I had them on the line I had to convince them that I actually had an account with them. Then I had to wait for the repair truck to come jimmy my door open.

I didn't get the five minutes of peace and quiet I was craving. I got 45 minutes of peace and quiet... sitting on the curb next to my car. Oddly enough I didn't find my center of calm until hours later when I made the conscious decision to put the morning behind me and give the afternoon a chance.

And no, it wasn't during a 5 minute lull in the day. It was while I was at work, surrounded by the usual hubbub that surrounds me the moment I walk in.

Prolific Little Artists

My girls are prolific artists. If they could they'd spend all day every day with a crayon or marker in hand. Our house is filled with artwork of every type - collages, cutouts, hasty sketches, paintings, and everything in between.

We're normal parents, so clearly we think they're super talented. There's no doubt they have a good eye and they notice the little details. C even has quite the imagination when it comes to creating artwork. They're definitely artistic and we're going to encourage it every way we can, but after seeing the paintings created by the young Autumn de Forest, we're not deluding ourselves that we have prodigies on hand.

As I flipped through the slide show of this 8-year-old artistic prodigy, I was blown away by her sheer talent. Seriously, if I had enough money, I'd be lining up to purchase her paintings... sadly, I don't have a spare $25000 for a painting or two.

Then I realized something that comes out clearly in her art. This child has been exposed to a lot of art in her short life. She gets her inspiration from masters, and from many of them. She also has access to amazing tools and supplies.

My mother-in-law is convinced that C could create masterpieces if we handed her serious paint and canvases. Allow me to be skeptical. That said, it definitely wouldn't hurt her if we took her to art shows and museums a bit more often. And it might be nice to break out the paint a little more often than once every six months.

Most importantly though, I'm going to take away from this that children who are allowed to play with art materials can surprise their parents and everyone around. And that maybe artistic kids, but not prodigies is going to be just fine.

Though it would be nice to have someone in the garage creating paintings like these...

A writer and her notebook fetish

For a week now I've been meaning to sit down and map out a social media consulting business plan. The ideas are all jumbled in my head and I know that I can only start making sense of all my thoughts if I sit down with a notebook and pen and jot down some notes.

But I haven't, because in my head, only one notebook will do for the task and it's never with me when I have a free second.

Not to mention the fact that I hadn't yet picked the right pen for that notebook.

If you looked in my purse you'd think I was off my rocker to let the lack of the right notebook stop me. There are no fewer than two other notebooks in there right now along with an impressive number of pens.

Thing is, I have a bit of a notebook fetish - each serves it's own purpose.

There's the Carolina Pad 3-subject notebook (discontinued much to my inconsolable chagrin They found it! Posted it to their webstore, for ME! And I bought 6. Just in case. Yay!), by far my favorite. It's handy for penning blog posts, taking lengthy notes during interviews, brainstorming new projects. It has pockets for holding note cards and random papers I absolutely have to have on hand. It would be the notebook I use to work out my business plan, but the purple pen I associate it ran out last week and I've been reluctant to even open it since.

There's the Tiny Prints notebook, personalized with an adorable black and white picture of my girls. I love to use that one to make to do lists or jot down quick notes. I'd use it more, but I'm not a huge fan of the pen that has glommed onto it.

Those are just the two that live in my purse. At home I have a journal - recipient of late night musings that at times make it to this blog. And at work I have a purely functional spiral bound 8.5x11 college ruled notebook for extensive to do lists and meeting notes.

And then there's this other notebook, purchased in a small boutique in San Francisco one day while I was out shopping with an out of town friend. Still wrapped in cellophane, waiting for its pen.

And a business plan.

How about real Breast Cancer Awareness?

I’m not playing the “I like it…” game on Facebook this year. I didn’t play the bra color game last October either. Not because I don’t believe in Breast Cancer Awareness, quite the opposite in fact.

I believe in doing it the right way.

Last year the game seemed silly to me even before reading Susan Nieber ‘s– aka Why Mommy – post on the subject. Then it seemed downright cruel.

People were trying to raise awareness for a cause by flaunting the very thing that women who were in the thick of that issue could no longer use – bras.

Most women who have had mastectomies no longer wear bras, so, as a whole, they felt shut out of this viral campaign. Ironic? Right?

This year the campaign tries to be more inclusive by focusing on purses instead of bras. But at the end of the day the issue is a bit the same.

Breast cancer isn’t funny.

Susan Nieber once again wrote a post decrying the point of this campaign, this time she posted it at Salon.com. She wants to know why people are joking around while women are dying.

Here’s the thing as I see it. You slap up a pink banner on your site, you buy a pink t-shirt, you post a quippy “I like it in the backseat!” post on Facebook. And then you walk away. You feel like you did your part and you can give yourself a nice pat on the back.

But really? What have you done to further the cause of Breast Cancer Awareness? Did you share some stats and information with someone? Do you really think that the 10c from the proceeds of that shirt are going to make an impact on Breast Cancer research? Do you really think that funny Facebook post did any good?

Breast Cancer is becoming that thing. The “oh yeah! Breast Cancer, it’s a problem, right?” thing. All the pink t-shirts and ribbons are having the opposite effect. Instead of raising true awareness they’re raising acceptance.

And you know what? Acceptance is BAD. We don’t WANT people to become jaded and accepting of this disease that’s killing women right and left. Women YOU know. Women YOU see every day.

So instead of posting a funny post to my Facebook page I’m posting this post and sharing Susan’s letter. And I’m not going to tell you not to play, but I am going to beg you to ALSO post a link to a place where people can get information or where they can make a real difference.


Visit the American Cancer Society to learn about Breast Cancer and all sorts of other cancers, find out what you can do to help raise awareness and money for research.

Buy a Tiny Prints Breast Cancer Awareness Greeting Card. The entire proceed for the cards go to The Pink Agenda for Breast Cancer research.(Sorry, I work there, but I also happen to be really excited about this campaign which helps people on every end.)

Join the Army of Women and do your part to further the research.Whether or not you have had breast cancer or are high risk, you might have the information someone conducting a study could use. Sign up. You never know.

And before you buy something with a pink ribbon on it, do a little research about how much of your money is actually being donated. Lots of companies are taking advantage of the pink to make a lot of extra bucks. 

So? How about it? Are you participating in the Facebook "game?"



(FYI: This post was cross posted to Yahoo! Shine and received interesting comments over there.)

Never enough time

I struggle against it every day. The massive quantity of things I want to be doing against the limited amount of time each day offers.

This past week I've finally reached a certain balance between things that must be accomplished and my personal needs - you know: sleep, exercise, time with the family. In fact, I've even found myself with a bit of spare time here and there, definitely a novel feeling.

And speaking of novels, I'm even finding time to work on the edits. I'm fixing a chapter or two every day and slowly, but surely, I'm making my way to the end of the book.

I've reached a certain balance. A healthy, wholesome balance. 

But the problem with spare time, with exercise, with sleep, is that it gives my brain the downtime to come up with new ideas and projects. When I was over extended and struggling to keep up I barely had the brain capacity to make lists of things that still needed to get done. Now I'm free to dream and invent.

And I keep coming up with so many things I want to be doing. So many great ideas I want to put into practice.

And the downtime? The going to bed early? The taking an evening walk? All of that is lulling me into believing that I have the time to take on a new project. Just a small one. Or maybe a medium one. Or how about that big one over there, the one that could have such a positive impact on so many lives? That one is definitely worth giving up sleep or exercise!

But no. It's not. Nothing's worth giving up balance. Is it?

Because that's the thing. There's no such thing as a "small" project. There's no such thing as "It'll only take an hour or two." It all threatens the balance one way or another and I'm determined to keep the Year of Awesome completely and utterly awesome.

I need to look at all this like I do shopping. Instead of impulsively diving head first into new projects, I'll put them on "wish lists." If I'm still thinking about them a week, two weeks, a month down the road, I'll re-evaluate the balance and see if something can be shifted or changed to allow for the idea that won't let go.

In the meantime I'll try to savor the existing balance and appreciate the free time and the fun my brain is finally enjoying. And I'll try to remember that life is long and that I'll have time to get to it all if I just pace myself.

A Disruptive Little Cat

Our cat passed away almost three years ago after M and I made the incredibly painful decision to end his suffering. Ever since that day we've resisted the urge to get a new cat.

Well, M resisted the urge and all my pleading. Between the wonder baby who never slept, work, the toddler, more work, and everything else, we didn't have it in us to take on one more responsibility. Once Little L started sleeping and I took control of my professional life, we got complacent and still didn't open our hearts and our home to another cat.

It was just easier to not have someone else to care for. We could head to the beach for the weekend on a last minute whim. We could stay out all day without feeling guilty or worrying about a hungry pet. We could go away for two weeks in the winter without worrying about finding a cat sitter.

Then, a month ago, on her birthday, a good friend called me and asked me to take in a cat.

"He's... just... special. And if you don't take him he's going to the pound."

I didn't agree right away. I just agreed to come see him. And somehow M didn't say no either. Which is how we found ourselves sitting on the floor of our friends' bathroom, with a kitten on our laps. A kitten who never hissed, never acted scared, just acted like he had always known us.

An hour later we were driving home, delirious children and mewing kitten in the back.

He is special. There's no doubt. Little L manhandles him, loves him, hits him, tries to strangle him, loves on him some more. He never fights back. C plays with him endlessly and he never stops rallying. He plays catch. As in, we throw a ball and he runs to get it, catches it, and brings it back, and does it again and again and again, until we lose the ball. He cuddles, but doesn't mind sleeping alone. He's housebroken and not a picky eater. And he's just a good cat. A sweet, lovely, good cat.

And it's amazing how disruptive such a sweet little thing can be.

It's impossible to know if Little L has been coughing on and off since we got him because she keeps getting sick, or if she keeps getting sick because she's somewhat allergic to the cat. Ditto for me. M is definitely allergic and just stays away from him. But the real disruption has been in the middle of the night. When Little L is sick her sleep patterns revert to her old habits - up every couple hours coughing, needing water, needing a diaper, needing a hug. Whenever she wakes up, he wakes up. And when he wakes up he meows, which wakes up the girls even more.

I haven't slept well in two weeks and it's making me crabby. Really crabby. Crabby enough to think that cuteness and sweetness aren't enough to guarantee you a home in my house.

No matter how cute you are.