The Raft

Put Me In Coach

2016-04-03T14:52:00.001-04:00

For as long as I have kids in activities, school and sports I have been involved with other people's kids in activities, school and sports.
I have been a MOMS Club Coordinator, PTA Member and President, Room Parent, Assistant Coach, childcare provider, carpooler, playdater and all around stay-home-mama.

I am in my second season of being "Dug Out Mom" in Abby's softball in California; this follows several seasons of assistant coach back in Connecticut and "helpful parent" going back to T-Ball for both kids. It's safe to say I have a good idea of what to expect and what is expected of me on the softball field and in the dug out.

I love working with the girls on and off the field. They are at this great age of not-quite-teenagers/not-admitting-they-still-like-being-little. They're sweet. They want to please their coaches and their parents and their team. They want to have fun and socialize and laugh. They don't always pay attention and they don't always make the play. But they're at the age where they usually do. And even when they don't, they knew what to do but they're still learning the execution. They need practice. They need support. They need positive reinforcement.

As "Dug Out Mom" I consider myself very lucky to be the one that cheers, encourages, supports and guides these girls through their games (& many practices). I see their faces when they come off of striking out, and when they come off of making the play that ended the inning. I am able to give them a hug and a high five. I know their names, I know their strengths and worries. I have had a favorite here or there, but it usually changes week to week and it's probably not who you would think. I see who's mom is a little harder and I see who's mom is not there. And I see myself coming down on my own girl because she has the unfortunate position of being made an example of when I can use that to the team's advantage. That's how it goes.

More than anything, though, in that dug out, those girls are mine and I treat them as such. Coach is coaching, I am nurturing, just as I would my own kids.

They will learn to catch, throw, hit and run. Coach will teach them how to bunt, slide and steal. Together they will learn plays, and signs and celebrate wins and mourn losses.
In the dug out I will teach them that everyone strikes out, more often than not, in fact. I will remind them that they are all equals and every position is the most important position. I give them a wink, a hug, and piece of gum, sunscreen. I pack extra snacks and waters. I always have a hair thing and band aids. I know who their moms & dads are and I know when they actually have to pee or they just want to see their buddy across the field.

It's my job to mediate the inevitable cattiness.
It's my job to pump them up when they're wearing down.
I love my job. I love being a grown up in their lives that is not their mom, not their coach, not their teacher - but shows them the love, respect and support they are due. They trust me and I take care of them.

I have saved many emails from many parents thanking me for this role in their daughter's lives. I wonder if these parents realize how the one line they shoot off to me makes my entire day. How I even hesitate to share it because it makes me feel so proud I don't want to brag. A cookie, a smoothie, a smile or thank you.
I don't expect anything because honestly - the girls pay me back in spades for my time. But those little gestures from their parents pump me up and make me feel worthwhile and useful and happy. And I thank them back.

So, yesterday when a parent of one of my girls charged into the dugout to yell at me for directing his daughter back to the field I was thrown off my game. No pun intended.

Our team was warming up. Moments before the first pitch would be thrown and I saw one of our girls walking towards the parents. I called her back, she wasn't where she was supposed to be and her reasoning wasn't something I considered important. We play 10U, so the girls are 9 & 10, sometimes 11. They can tie their own shoes, put on their own equipment and carry their own gear. She turned and walked back out to towards the field, but just as she did, the dad came at me. He asked me what I said to her, I repeated what I said "you can fix your own visor, you need to be on the field with your team". He then asked me to repeat that. That's when I realized he was really pissed. Really getting ready to tear into me and I got nervous. I repeated myself but before I could finish he hauled off with "You are not her Parent! I am her Parent! If she needs help, she can always come to us for help and you cannot tell her she cannot!"
Mind you, she wanted her visor tightened. She could have asked me. She could have done it herself.
This is her first year playing, I know this. We have three girls on our team of 11 that have never played. Yet, this girl has been to only a handful of practices and missed every pre-season "practice" game. Her father is full of advice via email for everyone else, yet this was only the second time I had ever met him.
So, as this dad was getting red and waving his finger at me, a lot of things came into my head. He kept saying he would help her. I wanted to say "play catch with her! show her where the field positions are. let coach teach her by bringing her to practice. let me show her how to be a part of this group of girls called a team by letting me do what I do. don't come into my dugout to give her a sandwich in the middle of our 90 minute game. don't pull her out of the field in the middle of our game, in the middle of an inning, to put her sweater on her."

I have seen this quote before, I can't remember by who and I'm gonna hack it but it's basically "uncoachable kids become unemployable adults."

Anyway. I didn't say anything. Thank God, at almost 40 years old that thing people have been telling me I never had finally kicked in - I believe it's called a "filter". Because the things running through my head didn't come out.
I just let him say his piece. I even told him he was right. I said nothing more. He stood there and we stared at each other. My legs were weak. I was afraid my face looked scared. I wanted to look badass but I don't know if I did. I was trying not to cry. I am not a fan of confrontation though I'll handle it if needed. The girl was standing there the whole time. I don't know if any of the other girls heard it, but Abby saw it and asked me about it later.

This was yesterday. I can tell you it ruined my day. Completely. The girls lost, that didn't help. And that particular girl very purposefully did not high five me the entire game. It was disrespectful, rude and hurtful but I wasn't about to go there.

I wish it wasn't still on my mind. And I know that so many people who do exactly what I do, coach and definitely the many teachers in my life know this feeling - but it was my first and I was totally rattled. I felt self conscious and scared. I was questioning myself and feeling unwelcome.
All the experience and confidence and joy I carried with me dissipated with one bad confrontation.

I have never been spoken to that way. I have never spoken to another adult that way. As parents, we make decisions for our children and steer and guide them but we don't attack other parents for doing the same. And we definitely don't attack other parents who are giving up their time and energy for our kids.

I am sure other parents have disagreed with me, disliked me, whatever - and likely plenty of shit has been said about me over the years. But this was a first.
And knowing I didn't deserve it makes it so much worse.
If you do something wrong and you get caught you can eat it. You know you deserved it, you can forgive yourself and move on.
This one, it's sitting with me.

So, I'm writing.
I'm not writing to call this guy out specifically. I'm writing to make myself feel better. To spell it out and close the chapter and move on.
So - thanks for reading.

In the Still of the Night

2015-11-12T10:30:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I had this really negative, gross day. I was just "in a mood" and everything was stressing me out. Nothing important, mind you, just everything that spoiled bitch lets get to her when she allows it.
I had the kids home for Veteran's Day and they were ON each other non-stop. Then I was all aggravated about stuff happening 3000 miles away, having absolutely nothing to do with me. Then I took Wyatt for a haircut and had to wait like, 35 minutes and then found out it was because I hadn't "checked in" even though I smiled and waved and someone saw me and I had checked in online and figured I was all set. Then, I had to wait another 20 for a coffee at Starbucks. Then I was annoyed by being annoyed because I realized that Veterans were getting free haircuts and free coffees so if I didn't want to wait for America's Heroes why the fuck did I go run these errands on Veteran's Day.
Ugh.
So, yeah, "first world problems" all day and it was only my own fault but once I get into a mood like that, good luck getting me out. And it happens when Jay is traveling. Without the ying to my yang, I can be a pretty big asshole.

Then, last night I had this great dream.

I was running late at LAX. I had to get to my gate but I had to swim and run up hill and go through so many people and crowded hallways and elevators and offices. There was everything in my way and my flight left at 7 and I had to hurry up. But I couldn't move fast enough, everything blocking me and I couldn't always see and I wasn't even sure if I was going in the right direction with each turn.

Then I ran into a man. And I looked up and it was my dad. And he smiled at me and I hugged him. It was real time so he was definitely not alive but he wasn't a vision because I hugged him and smelled him and it felt so great. Then he held my hand and we walked, briskly, through all the obstacles to get me to my gate. And the feeling of holding his hand was the best feeling ever. And I probably hadn't held my dad's hand in thirty years when he died but it was one of the things that I knew I was going to miss and don't ever want to forget the feeling of.

When I reached my gate I had time to spare because I was calmly guided through life's obstacles and also, I had the time wrong. (A little twist of humor in an otherwise very meaningful dream.)

When my dad died I said to Deborah I felt like the floor was pulled out from my otherwise very secure world. My life as an adult was all set but there is always a piece of you, that kid piece, that knew my dad would always help me if I needed help beyond my adult life (husband/job/kids/life). I had back up. When he died, I felt very alone. And then, as time passed, I felt empowered. Like, I didn't have that back up anymore so I had to cowboy up and be my own back up. And I felt more of his strength and courage fill me and that was good. It built me up - that loss. And I guess that's closure. Life gives us hard lessons and how we learn them defines us.

I woke up sad and happy. Crying, for sure. Because it was so great to see my dad and get that boost I needed. But I miss him.

Either way, consider my chi in check and my priorities reordered. I needed it.

Cowboy, Take Me Away

2015-10-18T20:56:00.001-04:00

The ocean is my happy place. The beach, really. But I won't object if you offer me an ocean cruise on your yacht, either. I look good on a yacht.

Yes, that's a yacht selfie. My life does not suck.

In the years I have been Mommy I have found the beach to a place of peace and happiness. Kids can run and scream and blow energy and exercise and maybe even hit me up for an ice cream. It is also a place I can sit, and sit, and sit some more. I have to keep my eyes on the kids, but my ass can stay in my chair pretty much all day. Guilt free. That's a good damn day in the Land of Mom.

From a more intimate perspective, I enjoy looking out to the sea and seeing what God gave us. The sun shining on the blue water. The waves and white caps. The sea birds swooping and floating. I like to think about whats underneath the surface. All the amazing animals and plants living and breathing in an underwater world most of us will never see.

At Harvey's beach in Connecticut Abby and I used to have long conversations about what might have swam during high tide right where we were standing at low tide.

I appreciate the science of it. The mystery and wonder.

Also, when I sit at the beach, looking out at the sea I enjoy relinquishing some control. Or all of it, depending on my mood. I enjoy looking at the vast,endless length, width, depth and thinking "I am so small. I am so insignificant on my own. This world is so much more than me." I don't think that in a sad or negative way. I think it in a very large and spiritual way. I am just one part of God's creation and His creation is so huge and grand and amazing and endless. I can't control this. I can only love this and continue to try and love and find joy and spread joy and be my best and ask the same of my children and husband. I can only love and be kind and find joy. That is my path. That is my job. This is all so much bigger than me, I will do my part and fall back on my Faith and feel comfort and love and security.

The ocean gives me that perspective. I appreciate the spirituality. The comfort and love.

When I step into the ocean, I feel the cold and the pull. Immediately I feel the pull. It invites me in and it also warns me about who is in control. It's not me. But I have always prided myself on my swimming prowess. On my strength. On my intuition. I respect the ocean and I respect its strength and pull. But I got this. I am also strong and respectable. I got this.

Until I don't.

I have heard people say things about undertow. And rough surf. And rip currents. I always sit near the lifeguard, make eye contact when I can, watch my children carefully. I don't nap. Or read. I watch. I respect.

Today I saw the waves and heard the kids laughing and shrieking as their bodies sailed back to the beach on boogie boards. It was a great beach day!

So I decided to go in, too.

The waves were huge. As big as I've seen them this summer. And from what I understand, this is only the beginning. The lifeguard board said 1-3' swells, down from 4'6" at high tide 3 hours earlier. That's a good beach day!

Abby was in the water so I went with her. Wyatt was in the sand right at the shore watching and digging. The waves were very big and crashing very hard so I went out a bit further thinking I would find that sweet spot where you can let the waves pick you up and put you down gently before they crest and crash. But the waves kept coming. And they were big. And I had to dive under them because the wall of water coming towards me looked too strong to jump onto or over, or even through, it looked like something I had to dive under to avoid. So did the next one. And the next.

I turned to see Abby get wiped out and make her way back in. I said to her "it's hard to find a spot to go in" and she just made a face. Then I got rolled. It startled me because I haven't been legitimately tossed by a wave in probably 25 years. I have been pushed and I have been forced to ride one in but not tossed under and rolled over. But I got back up. I saw Abby and she was close to Wyatt. Then I got tumbled again. And this time, I couldn't get up. It frightened me and I thought 'this is too rough, I am going in'. And when I stood up I saw another wall of a wave coming at me so I dove in but it rolled me and I felt my bathing suit bottom slide down to my ankles and I couldn't get up.

I was flipping and somersaulting and rolling and I didn't know where the bottom was or where the air was and I was running out of air to breathe and I was scared.

I thought my neck would snap. I couldn't control my arms. And I thought 'wow. this is it, huh? this is how I'm dying and leaving my kids?' I really thought that. Clearly!

I was really scared. I found the sand and pushed up and got air, just in time to dive back under the next wave and come back up to look back to the beach and realize that I was way far out beyond where I would ever go on purpose. My kids were tiny. And I was about to be rolled again. Down I went. I couldn't get up. I couldn't swim because the force of the current and the waves and the pull and all the amazingly strong and brilliant and awe-inspiring things I love about the ocean were beating me to death. I was terrified.

I saw the waves still coming and I had such perfectly calm, lucid thoughts come into my brain, like I was talking to myself. 'find the sand'. 'stay calm'. 'breathe then dive and push off the sand'. 'stay up with the water'. 'ride in'.

And I did all that. But I was so far out. And scared to the brink of panic.

I have been rolled, washed up and spit onto the beach with a liner full of sand and saltwater in my sinuses many many times. This was not that. This was taking me away. Not putting me back.

I had very clear thoughts in my head. I called for help - I actually yelled the word 'help' from my little spot in the ocean - and I tried to wave my arm in the air. And I realized no one would see me and no one could hear me. And I realized I had to get the fuck back on the beach. Now.

And I found the sand and I pushed and I swam and I rode.

When I got to the shore, close enough to the kids and out of reach of the big breakers I realized I was ok and I also realized that Abby had been there watching and screaming for me the entire time. She was crying. She was scared for me and I had to be strong for her. I didn't want to show her how life alteringLy terrified I had felt.

But she could see me. And she knew.

So we went up for a fresh water shower and then back to our blanket for a snack. And she cried a little more. And I cried a little.

And we talked about it. And how important knowing how far to go out is. And how important it is to keep an eye on the shore - on our spot in the sand. How important it is to always be near the lifeguard and know where the current is pulling.

She is a beach baby and she knows a lot. More than I did at her age, for sure. She loves the ocean but she respects it. Wyatt loves it, too, but he has a healthy amount of fear that will keep him safe and me sane - for a while longer, anyway.

I have no idea how much time passed from my first roll to my return to shore but it felt long. It's amazing how much very clear thinking I had time to do. Not lifeflashingbeforemyeyes kind of thinking but clear, rational thoughts like about which way was up and if my neck could actually snap like this and if I might actually die and if someone would rescue me and would my bathing suit be around my knees and should I care or be embarrassed and how to float and breathe and stay calm.

So today I felt small and weak and defeated by the Pacific Ocean. I fought my way out and I feel grateful for that. But not proud. I feel humbled. And strong. Just not as strong as Her.

All I Wanna Do

2015-09-18T22:32:00.001-04:00

Since I have been back on Facebook I find that I read more. I read articles and essays (those are my favorite, like a blog post but only one, so it's an essay. I think. That's what I call them anyway. An article is by a writer, for a paper or a magazine, right? But an essay is by you. Or me. More interesting, usually.) Anyway.

I read xoJane and HuffPost and Slate and whatever someone shares if it looks interesting.

I like hearing from people.

People have neat things to say.

I dislike pictures of things that people didn't take, with quotes that that person didn't say (and really, we can't be sure that Ghandi said all that shit, either, people, get real).

And please, don't even get me started on Minions.

I love the Despicable Me movies. They're adorable and funny and heartwarming. But the exploitation of the Minion on Facebook and the Internet in general is absurd.

But I do enjoy quotes that people relate to, share and with the share, give a little bit of themselves. For example - you post a picture that someone else posted with a quote that really touches you and share a thought about why you love it - I love that. But if you share a post of a minion who hates things and add no value to it or how you relate to it or it makes you feel - I "hide" that shit. And if that's all you're posting - I will "hide" you. Chill out. Smile. Life is good. Calm down with the Minion shit.

But I digress.

Facebook has opened a door to all these great articles that I was not aware of without Facebook.

And recently I read an article a woman wrote to her unborn niece. In it she wrote "don't live your life with guilt as your guide". Don't do things because you "should". Do things because they feel good, are good, do good. Don't do things you don't want to do because someone made you think you should.

Now. That's a broad generalization.

Kids should go to school.

Despite Wyatt's bargaining and reasoning and straight up pleading - he should, he has to, he needs to go to school. I won't tell you I have not considered home schooling him. I have. I have had moments of pure mothering power where, despite my earlier mentions of school being a stay-at-home-mom's reward - or my inclination to day drinking at the very idea of having my children home with me, with their educations being my responsibility, all year long, every day, all day, all year - despite all of that - I have had very clear, conscious thoughts and considerations about homeschooling.

Moving is tough. It's hard to get kids who were used to being big fish in a small pond used to being anonymous fish in a ginormous pond.

And Wyatt is a little guy. Young for his age and a very sensitive human. So yeah, I have actually had moments when I have said to myself "Liz. You got this. You can homeschool him. And protect him. We will play sports and enroll in playgroups and socialize accordingly. We will adventure and learn and live and love and do all of those things that the adventurous moms you read about do. We can homeschool and create an amazing environment for the kiddos."

Then, that passes and I go back to "Wyatt, you have to go to school. You have to do your job. It is mommy's job to get you to school every day so you can learn and grow and socialize and become a successful part of the community and world we live in. And if you don't go, Wyatt, mommy will be arrested and go to jail."

Yeah. Because, really, I'm not a homeschooler. I'm a wannabe day drinker looking for any excuse.

So, back to the "should do" stuff.

Our kids do a lot of activities.

When we left Hebron mid-spring we missed spring sports - softball and baseball. And Abby missed her dance recital. So in California we had no commitments aside from Jay's job and the kids' school. It was lovely. Every night we had a nice dinner. Every night we were together. Every weekend we went to the beach with daddy. After school the kids and I had the entire afternoon ahead of us, aside from homework - nothing to do! By the end of the summer we could admit we were all a little bored. Well, 3 of us were. We were looking forward to school starting and softball and baseball fall seasons and dance. We were even adding swimming to our lineup. (We didn't, though, because ball games would have interfered).

When school was approaching, registrations started rolling in and we signed up with anxious anticipation about being busy again.

Now. We're busy again.

And you know what? I hate it.

When we have early dismissal (every Wednesday), I want to go to the beach. But we have softball and baseball. Add that to homework and you don't have any free time after school during the week.

When Friday rolls around, I wanna go to the beach with a picnic dinner and stay up late watching a movie and sleep in on Saturday and do nothing all weekend except maybe go for a bike ride or a movie or out to eat or to the beach (again! it doesn't get old, friends!). But we have games. Double headers even.

I know for sure if I said to Wyatt "do you want to go to baseball?" he will absolutely say "nah". He would much rather ride his skateboard, play Minecraft or shoot his Nerf guns. He would rather go to the park or do absolutely nothing at all. He does not care about baseball beyond having his turn at bat and eating sunflower seeds.

When Abby contemplates her schedule she really hates anticipating being busy but really enjoys her practices and her dance classes and her school day. She is so easy and happy and peaceful (mostly, not always).

But today she announced to us that she "really wants to focus on her singing career" so maybe instead of sports she would prefer voice lessons alongside her dance schedule.

Amen and alleluia I say. I do not have to assistant coach her future voice teacher nor do I need to buy her $683 worth of gear.

So, in this land of "so much to see and do" I do not plan to continue with the "shoulds". Don't wanna play baseball? Fine. Don't wanna play softball? Great.

We have to work - all the varieties of it. But our after work time is our own.

Feel good about singing, dancing, acting, Nerfing, Minecrafting and watching tv?! Done.

Wanna hit the beach or head up to Malibu or see what's swimming off shore down in Long Beach? Maybe we want to see how LA lights up for the holidays... We have time. We have spirit. We love an adventure.

Life is good. Life is happy. It is what it is, not what it should be.

It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2015-09-08T15:28:00.001-04:00

Smell that? That's the smell of crisp autumn leaves and mulled cider. Maybe some horse poo. That's what Fall smells like.

Picturesque New England Autumn

And we may live a stone's throw from the beach in some of - if not THE - best weather in the world but my body still craves crisp nights, crunchy leaves and the smells of apples and pumpkins.

Redondo on an October night.

I am not saying I would trade it. Cali suits us just fine. But I am burning an Apples & Oak tart by Simply Soy. And I am getting my crock pot recipes ready to go.
The weather may not cool to the 30's and 40's but it will shift and we can still count on that sea breeze each afternoon which cools things considerably.

Dinner on busy school nights trumps air temperatures.

When we first got here I laughed at people wearing sweaters. Now, only 5 short months later, I get it. I have become accustomed to - spoiled by even - these fabulously hot and sunny days.
Dry heat is a cooker. It's not sweaty like humid heat. It's more like you are actually feeling the heat coming out of the oven or off the fire. And it's hot. Still preferable to soaked shirts and running make up, though. And when it goes away, it's gone. The breeze picks up and it almost feels chilly. I don't want to get all science-y on you, but it's got to have something to do with the lack of humidity and stillness. It's hot or its not, that's it.

School starts the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow night is an official "school night"!
I am thrilled! I am beyond thrilled!! I am a stereotype of unbridled excitement as I am about to be child-free every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday from 9 - 3!!
I will exercise!!
I will clean!!
I will read my book!!
I will grocery shop unencumbered by the wants, the whys, the pleases and the tantrums!
I will accomplish things!
I can be room mom and field trip helper and softball coach, too, because I will be free!!!

I know how I sound!

And I know that come April and May of 2016 I will be singing the exact opposite tune, if not sooner.
But for now, allow me to enjoy it!

And this school year will be full of new, different and exciting adventures.
Both kids have Fall Ball. 2 afternoons a week for one left handed pitcher and one right handed catcher. That's convenient, I know, but we didn't do it on purpose!
We also have a new dance school for our little ballerina. We were lucky enough to find one that is not only a bit less expensive but also offers two classes Abs wanted in the same afternoon - which is a different afternoon from Softball. Yay!!
So, new school that isn't so new anymore, new dance classes, new ball teams... this year is gonna ROCK!

Having moved in April and having known for certain since January made last school year's second half less of a focus than normal. Moving distracted from school work in Hebron. And once we arrived we urged the kids to get comfortable and feel good about where they were, rather than strive for perfection in the classroom.
I believe we did the right thing. "Heart over Head" is what I said to them over and over again. Because if they weren't happy and comfortable in their hearts, they weren't going to be successful in their classrooms anyway.

They can't always both be a priority.

But this year - this year they are gonna hit the ground running!!
They are not new anymore! There will be other new kids to help out and feel better about feeling at home here and not home there anymore.
We have made a conscious effort to stop saying "back home" and say "in Connecticut". Because, as long as we don't accept this as home, it won't feel like home.

And this - where the 4 of us are, wherever it is - is home.

So, with a shiny new lunch bags and back packs, super fast new sneakers and only the style-iest of style-y new clothes - we are ready to launch into Third and Fourth Grade with all our power!

And guess what? Grammy & Auntie Frannie are gonna be here to enjoy the ride! First day of school - Thursday. Pick Grammy & Auntie Frannie up at LAX - Friday!

From that visit we can look forward to Wyatt's birthday and our visit from Nana and Papa!!

Then Halloween (at Disneyland?!)

And Thanksgiving (with Shamu?!)

And Christmas... with twinkly lights on palm trees!! A longtime wish of mine, I can't wait to put twinkly lights on all these tropical plants!!

Happy New Year, my friends - hope your 2015-16 is as fabulous as you are!

Our House, In the Middle of Our Street

2015-07-28T23:22:00.001-04:00

Moving is tricky business.

Your family and friends really want you to be happy, they want to support you. But they, the ones that are not moving, cannot fathom how you could possibly be so happy if you make such a change.

How can you leave them? {“They’ve got a rude awakening coming…”}

How can you make a home in a place that is not their home? {“What about all those roots you worked so hard to put down?”}

How can you find peace and happiness without them? {“You need family near by, what if something happens?”}

With Belle's Ben and Caleb, in Mystic, just before we left.

You don’t know anybody!

You don’t know where anything is!

And then you do.

Moving is tricky because you are happy and you do find peace and you can make a new home, but you don’t want to put off a vibe that implies you were not happy or not at home in the place you are leaving. {“I talked to her. Did you talk to her? She sounds happy… Did you think she sounded happy?”}

Does being happy away mean you weren’t happy close by?

You miss your friends and your family but missing friends and family should not be confused with wishing you were there or wishing you hadn’t left or wishing you were with them right that very minute and as many minutes as possible ever because you miss them desperately!!

If you seek out true peace and happiness, with the people that you crave being with the most, you will find peace and happiness anywhere you go.

When you move away you miss familiarity. You miss comfort.

Moving is scary. There are so many unknowns.

Jay and I have always been restless. We have always known that we would not stay in Hebron forever. We didn’t know if we would give up high taxes in central CT for high taxes in southern CT or NY or MA or FL. We never imagined CA, that’s for sure.

But look at what we’ve done.

We picked up and left our comfort, our families and our friends. Really, really good people that we really, really love a lot.

Abby's last minute/snow emergency 9th birthday party - 2 of her besties.

But you know what?

They’re still our family and our really, really good friends.

And the ones that aren’t? Well, they weren’t, were they?

We have been through a lot of things in the 14 years we have been married. Good, bad and indifferent. Who hasn’t, right? The more time you spend with someone, the more shit you see.

The one thing that has been consistent, that we rely on, is that we have always put each other, our marriage, first.

Once, Deborah and I discussed it. Years ago. My father used to get angry with my mother, saying she put us first when she should have put him first. My mother’s argument - had she ever made it out loud - could easily have been that he was pretty damn good at putting himself first enough for both of them… but I digress… he’s dead... so we don’t say such things.

Anyway. My sister said in regards to her marriage, “we put each other first and together, we put our kids first”. I thought that was brilliant because it really does sum up a loving marriage and parenting partnership.

By putting each other first, we make our marriage/friendship/partnership the number one priority. In doing that, our parenting style puts our kids in the forefront of lifestyle choices, but not at the sacrifice of ourselves - but as a team.

And as a team we managed this decision and this move to leave everything and everyone we know to move across the country.

And we are really happy and at peace.

And we miss our friends and family, but not because we wish we hadn’t left, but because we love them and know we will see them again and it will like we never left.

That’s the beauty of real, love-filled relationships.

In California we have found a lifestyle that allows for more free time, family activities and leisure time that we either didn’t have or didn’t make time for in Connecticut.

We go to the beach every weekend. We ride bikes for no reason other than to go bike riding. We watch tv and go to the movies, go to the mall and out to eat. We spend really good quality time together.

The weather and the city have created this perfect storm of “no excuse but to have a good time”.

Adventure Time!

We don’t own this house we live in, so we don’t have to look around in disgust at every ache and pain in the yard, on the roof or in the garden if we decide to sit outside and soak up some sun.

We aren’t responsible for “maintaining our investment” so sitting around on a Sunday afternoon watching tv is no longer impossible - there is nothing else to do! No lawn to mow, no garden to plant, no rooms to paint, no carpet to remove or bathrooms to remodel. It doesn’t matter! A roof over our heads and a door to lock on the way out. Our time is our own in a way that we couldn’t understand under the shackles of homeownership. There are benefits to owning your own home, for sure. But they aren’t what they once were and they may not ever outweigh this lifestyle, for us, again.

Fireworks, on the sidewalk. Fireworks come to us, we don't go to them.

Another aspect of this move is the advantage for our children. Presented with a new school, new kids and teachers and ways of life. A school that is not led by all the moms they’ve known since they were toddling around park playdates. A school that their mom was not president of the PTA for or Room Parent or even allowed to volunteer at (their school requires a TB test, *one of my quests for this summer is to find a place that administers TB tests*).

A shot from my "going away party" - it includes quite a few of,
but not all of, those mamas that we grew so happy and comfortable to live and grow with.
Awesome women.

They are adjusting to change. Because life is all about change, really. And to not prepare them to be able to move with and adapt to changes as needed would be unfair, really.

Ask Abby if she ever, in a trillion years, thought she would do - nevermind enjoy - Track Camp.

They are being forced to learn independence. Independence from groups of lifelong friends, independence from familiarity and comfort zones. They are being forced to find a better sense of what’s important and what matters to them.

They don’t know who’s cool or who’s connected, none of these kids’ moms are my friends. They will only judge by who is nice, who is fun, who is happy - those are the people they will be attracted to play with and find their own peace with.

Pole Vault. You can't really tell in this shot, but he's got this.

Yup. So does she. Try to make me say differently.

They are also learning how much they enjoy each other. And that is something that cannot be taught or demanded. That is a gift that we are so thankful to witness each night as they go to bed, in Abby’s room, one up in the top bunk and one in the bottom because they prefer it that way. They want to be together. They like each other.

Look at that love!!

This summer they have not had tons of playdates or camps or commitments. They have had each other. We have had and will continue to have our own playdates and adventures, just the 4 of us, with a few friends we've made along the way.

It's nice when your friend are also your cousins.

And when school starts in September they will have new classrooms full of new friends, new baseball, softball, basketball and dance teams. Childhood - with all the chaos and drama that comes with it - will continue, but this summer will be one that they will never forget. Because it will be one that we will never be able to duplicate.

What's your poison? Wetzels or Cinnabon?

That’s our ultimate goal. Friends are always friends, no matter what you have or where you live. Family is always family, like it or not! But life is what you make it and we are making it into our own adventure.

Guac-stuffed tomatoes ala Wy.

A magnificent pudding pie ala Abalicious.

In the words of that wise man from Joe Dirt - “home is where you make it”.

Take Me Home, Country Roads...

2015-07-27T22:09:00.000-04:00

Last week the kids and I packed our lunches, beach towels and sunscreen and hit the road.

"Adventures" has always been our thing, far longer than they have had a say in where or when, we have always been going to see, do, visit and explore. I love it - and they love it.
The other day Abby was missing Connecticut and she said "I miss trees. I miss freshwater - lakes and rivers. I miss just going somewhere and being in the middle of nowhere."
My little country mouse was feeling a little crowded, I think.

Backpack loaded, ready to go!

We live in SouthBay, it's beautiful beach cities. Beach. City. Lots of sand and gorgeous places to relax and eat, shop and see. But not a lot of.... shade. Or quiet. Or dark.

We had to take the freeway, this was the second time I've driven on the 405 and while getting up over 40 mph is a nice treat, it still feels very foreign. I am thankful for my large car.

What's really amazing is how this state can offer us the beach and the sun and the amazing ocean breezes at home and just an hour away, a little bit northeast it offers us hot desert sun and mountains that resemble what I saw in the Lion King.

Entering "The Shady Path".

We don't know what this tree was but it was super big and cool looking!

Skull Rock!

The thing that led us to Malibu Creek was the Lava Rocks swimming hole. Fresh water in the most natural of natural surroundings. Cliffs and rock formations made thousands of years ago by nature. Safe? Sort of, I guess. There are people swimming there all the time, but there's no lifeguards and there is a sign that says maybe think twice before you jump. From where we parked and walked the "Lava Lake" was a little over a mile. We were hot and hungry and happy to find this little oasis.

This seems pretty clear to me.

This was not the highest point these guys jumped off of on this beautifully hot day but I had to stop watching.

This really was as serene and cold and fun as it looks.

While the pond swimming was fun we knew there was more to see so we left the pond to the daredevils and canned beer drinkers and moved on with our day of nature and trees.

This park is where they filmed M.A.S.H. I was excited at the idea of seeing that as I have seen every episode of that show and the song plays almost constantly in my head. Miserable song but somehow, that show was happy and funny (usually) in spite of the premise.
It is also where they filmed Planet of the Apes and few other shows and movies, this is LA after all.
But, after the one mile walk to Lava Lake and the next 2 miles - mostly uphill - to Century Lake - I didn't think the kids had another mile just to see an open field of nothing that would mean nothing to them other than an additional mile back. So, I skipped it. No biggie.

After Lava we headed uphill to Century.

We didn't know what to expect but we did know that swimming in both pools of fresh water was our entire plan for the day so even though we now know what this guy feels like - we made it.

Century Lake was sort of hidden. We walked up a very hard, dry, sun soaked path (came to find out later that we were on an "easy to moderate" hiking trail the entire time, so I guess - technically - we hike now.

When we stumbled upon it (literally, down a tricky little pricker-y path) it did not disappoint.

It was shady, the water was deep and cold and the only thing missing was the bugs we, as east coasters, have become so accustomed to with shady fresh water. Pure heaven.

There was a log that they climbed up on to climb up onto the ground.
Very efficient.

Hi Daddy!

The view from the top of the hill we climbed to reach the lake.
(Pinch it to see the port-o-potty island that both of my kids had to poop in. Why waste a perfectly good, desert-cooked shitter, am I right?)

We don't go anywhere without a wrong turn, this bridge led to a Visitors Center
that was only open on the weekend and had no toilets.

At the end of the day we managed something around 6 miles of "hiking" and we swam twice. We picnicked, we chatted and we enjoyed silence. The kind of silence that these 3 country mice forgot how much we miss. Nothing but wind through leaves and tall grass and bugs chattering - I do not take that kind of peace for granted.

No one cried. No one argued. No one got stung, hurt or upset by anything. It was the best day.

Oh, and on the way back down the hill, I was lucky enough to catch this:

Yes. They are holding hands.

What Have You Done For Me Lately -ooh ooh - ooooooh yeah!

2015-07-11T23:21:00.000-04:00

Before we moved I had big plans about my budding writing career. I thought this was going to be the perfect rebirth for my creativity.
I would be bored, and have nothing to do and no friends and be completely surrounded by inspiration. So, I would write!
I even had ideas about making my blog "subscription only" so that people that worked for Jay wouldn't read it and get in on our personal business.

Of all of those thoughts, I think the "subscription only" portion is the funniest. Because, really, who reads this? I know of about 6 people, 7 if you include my mom. And as much as I appreciate the support - and I truly do - I really write it for myself.
Sometimes I feel myself getting all bottled up. I have a need to share.
Facebook helps that. A lot. But Facebook also allows for feedback. And often, the one line "You're too funny" or "same thing happened to me" only irritates me and doesn't allow me to fully explore what happened, how it happened or what the impact may be from said happening.

How can I appropriately Facebook my journey through the California Department of Motor Vehicles this past Tuesday?
I can't. So let me share it with you here.

I made an appointment. First of all - thank Jesus I made an appointment. The appointment line was 2 deep. The "I think I'll swing by the DMV and settle the years' worth of issues I have with the state of California on my lunch break" line was out the door and into the next parking lot. No joke. I couldn't take a picture because the other thing about the DMV was - all the criminals and fat people were there.
In my time in SouthBay so far, I have seen many, many walks of life. Very different from the rural white towns I grew up and settled in thus far. I have seen, chatted with and befriended people from India, Japan, Korea, Hawaii, NY, Wisconsin and right here in Torrance. None of them are easily defined as "white", "Indian", "black" or "Asian". Nor are they distinguishable by class, income or "location" (read - section of town that we are so used to judging each other by). Its nice. I have discussed the anonymity of living in such a large town (city) before and I am still, very much, enjoying it.
That said, at DMV I found all the very fat, very smelly, very scary people in SouthBay.
Surprisingly, though, they did not work there.
The kids and I arrived for my 12:15 appointment and by the time we left (around 3) I had a temporary CA drivers license and 2 shiny new California plates for my Pilot. And my disposition was as good if not better than when I arrived.
The employees were smart, helpful, chatty, friendly and easy to work with.
The woman who helped me register my car informed me that I may not be happy with her when I walked away but she apologized ahead of time for what was obviously not her doing - California requires you to pay CA state tax for a vehicle purchased outside of California if it is moved into California within 365 days. They do, however, take into account what you've already paid, in my case, in CT.
The lovely woman at her desk at window 15 said "that will be a grand total of $1400 even. Welcome to California." Her face did not reflect her sentiment.

From there, California license plates in hand, I went to take my "written test" for my drivers license. It's not written. Its done on a touch screen monitor bigger than my laptop monitor. It was acutally a pretty impressive set up. I was warned that the test was pretty hard because it asks you about stuff you really don't use in regular driving. For example - did you know that the legal limit for alcohol for an adult is .08% - but the legal limit for an 'under 21' is .01%?
I would have gotten that wrong because I would have assumed the limit would be 0. My bad.
Anyway - I did get that question. I was also asked what the center lane was for on a highly trafficked roadway. Obviously, not right turns. We call it the suicide lane, but it is intended for the start and completion of left hand turns and legal u-turns. Now you know.
So, I passed that, took my picture and was super excited to get my new license. Imagine my disappointment when the gentleman handed back my Connecticut license and told me this would serve as my temp until my new license came in the mail in 2-4 weeks. Boo, California!! That is where CT has you beat! Printing Press right on the premises!!
All in all, it was not a bad experience. It was not a thrilling experience, either. But for a 3-hour stint at the DMV - no matter what state you live in - I was kind of impressed.

***********

I have had a few dates here in SouthBay. Mom-dates. I think Deborah coined that phrase. But I need to make friends. Like I said to Jay - I have a short list of amazing, life-long friends. I don't actually need any more. But I do need some buddies - some moms that I can hang with, bitch with, laugh with, drink with. So, I'm putting myself out there! I can and love to talk to anyone, anywhere... it's very easy for me and I enjoy it.

I had one date with a mom from Abby's class. And it was a homerun! We met at the track and got to chatting. We have the same helicopter-y expectations of our classroom teachers. Same dry, hilarious sense of humor, same distaste for bitchy/clique-y moms and - go figure - she's about 10 years older than me. Perfect!
So, we hung out at the beach one afternoon and the love fest continued.
We will hang again and I am happy to report - I like her and she likes me!
(See the similarities?! It really is like dating!)

I had another date - with a mom I met on the beach one random day that her kids and my kids were playing together in the water. Seemed natural to meet up at the beach again.
This time, however, it was a date - planned and anticipated.
She, being a native Californian and this being a sort of overcast, chilly day - by California standards - was wearing a sweatshirt, a warm hat and carrying a hot coffee.
Me, being a native nor'easter, had my chair, a large bag of beach toys, a cooler, a large bag with towels and snacks and sunscreen (honestly, I don't know why I bring so much crap to the beach - I'm working on that). Her kids had BodyGlove head to toe, my kids had a quick spray of sunscreen. It was cloudy!
We chatted easily enough. She asked me what my hobbies were, I said I love to read and garden and bake and run and sew and make my own organic sauces - also I am learning spanish and teaching my kids techniques for them to get ahead in the grade levels they are preparing to enter. Naturally.
She told me she homeschools because she couldn't bear to send her babies into the "zoo that is public school these days". She also proceeded to tell me how "big government got in the way of states' right to govern individually" when it came to the Marriage Equality Act.
When she was done speaking I was so thankful I had thought to lie about my hobbies (sitting at the beach, shopping, playing Clash of Clans, perusing Pinterest, actually reading - but not books I usually brag about) and quickly decided to not talk to this woman about anything else. Ever.
Also worth noting here - her son is 11 and thoroughly enjoyed playing with Wyatt who is 7. This is fine in many cases, but since he kept calling Abby "girlfriend" and asking me if they could sleep over I decided it would be best to call it a day.
Again, 2-hour parking meter comes in handy.

I do have a third date pending. A lovely lady I met at Swim. She is born and raised here. Her face is round and happy. She laughs a lot and is totally into her kids. I liked her immediately. We chat during the kids' swim lessons. Our kids don't match at all but all 4 are happy, friendly kiddos who, I anticipate, will play well together regardless of age.
We are planning a trip into LA - she wants to go into Chinatown and I want to go anywhere someone wants to take an adventure. I'll keep you posted!

**********

So - what the hell have we been doing? We have been having a very good time, my friends. A very. good. time.
As much as I miss my people, and miss being a part of things happening back east, I can't complain about what I'm doing (or who I'm doing it with).
And as long as I keep living - one day at a happy time - I will be forever grateful for the experiences, the adventures and the joy this "perma-summer-vaca" is giving us.

A new addition to our clan. California Roadster!

Oh? An open invitation to bang out a song with a drum circle? Sure!

We spend some time at the beach.

There's a sand crab in that little hand, look closer!

Dodger Stadium. Mets were in town for July 4th. This day deserves a blog of it's own. "Epic".

Next time we will go as Dodgers fans... blend easier...

Fireworks at the beach, from a few blocks up.

A little v-ball.

Hermosa.

I got glasses!

Night Riders.

Best. Visitors. Ever.

Street Fair. Redondo is where it's at. #ifweknew

Coming around the third turn~

Track & Field on Monday nights!

Cheeseburger in Paradise

2015-06-12T23:02:00.001-04:00

By now you have probably heard of Dr. Oz. He's kind of popular.
I'm not a fan, never watched his show, never read his books. I did read an article one time about how he was suing like, everyone, because he never got a patent or a trademark or whatever else you need to protect yourself when you become as large as he is, and people were using his name all over the place for unhealthy and irresponsible diet products.
That made me both wary and respectful. Clearly, this guy is a big deal. I mean, my mom was quoting his declarations for several months before I had heard of him. I believe he's got a morning show. He started off in a guest spot for someone bigger and became his own thing. Sort of like Dr. Phil... but a different degree.

My love for my Nutribullet runs deep. It's a trend that Jay and I bought into and have not regretted for a minute. I make nutritious shakes every moring for Jay and almost every morning for the kids and I. You can hide all kinds of good greens under the guise of vanilla greek yogurt, bananas and berries (no seeds for the boy, tho!) Today I just bought a replacement blade and was browsing dreamily at the bigger, better, stronger Bullets... one day, when my little Bullet goes to the electronics cloud in the sky, I will be upgrading to this bad boy - The 900.

When we first moved to Cali and finished unpacking I spent a dark few days driving around seeking retail therapy and feeling pretty bored and lonely. There were a few days that I broke down and grabbed drive-thru cheeseburgers. This doesn't sound like a big deal but it only deepened my sadness and self loathing as I was chowing on big, greasy meat sandwiches all alone in my car. It felt dirty and shameful. And it was literally - only twice. Once at Jack in the Box and once at Carl Jr's. And both were the equivalent of a McDonalds Cheeseburger and Fries, not even a Big Mac. But it was not good for my psyche.
I am not a drive-thru eater. I have often envied the moms who grabbed McDonalds on their way home from dance or practice and fed the whole crew without even getting out of the car. But we just have never done that and this felt like I was betraying some kind of family crest.

So, anyway, I have my Nutribullet and I was interested in finding a cleansing, detoxifying diet. I looked online and found his 3-Day Detox, which is, I found out for certain, truly created and endorsed by the real guy. It had endless endorsements from random people across the webosphere - blogs, FB posts, website comments. It looked easy enough - ONLY THREE DAY - and not unhealthy or crazy (cayenne pepper and vinegar cleanse was not what I was looking for.)

So, talking to Deborah one morning last week she mentioned she ordered a Nutribullet. When she said she was looking for a Cleanse of some kind I jumped on the opportunity to have a partner with the Dr. Oz diet I had been eyeballing for a while now. She was game and now I had no choice but to go all in.
Together, half a world away from each other, we grocery shopped and got ready for 3 days of meal drinks, green tea and epsom soaked baths.
I knew I was not going to soak in a tub. I also knew I would not eliminate my morning coffee. But the rest of it looked doable.
I loved buying all the produce and cutting, chopping, measuring and preparing for the 3 days ahead.

3 days. 9 meals.

Wednesday was our first day. I had the benefit of being 2 meals behind Deborah so she was able to advise on what to and what not to do. She was also already hungry and feeling the effects when I just got started.

I only had one cup of coffee - compared to my usual 2 before school and 1 more when I get back plus the ice coffees around lunch time - I consider that a cleanse.

Then I made the shakes - 3 for the non-detoxers, 1 meal in a cup for me.

The breakfast shake was really good. Only major difference between the ones I usually make and this one is the lack of dairy. I usually use greek yogurt and milk in the morning shakes, this one was all veggies, fruit and water. But it was really good. I'm telling you - it's all about that banana.

The lunch shake did not taste good, not at all. I added ice to the blender but the ingredients made a full blender of green stuff. The ingredients were all things I loved - but not things that should be turned into a smoothie together. Celery, cucumber, pineapple, green apple, kale... all good by me. Together they were like drinking something you already drank and rejected.

But I got it down.

The dinner shake was pretty good. I put too much pepper in it, it was too spicy, but I managed.

Blueberries, avocado, mango - super foods!

I was pretty tired at the end of the day. And I was definitely thinking a lot about food. But I felt pretty great. Proud of my accomplishment and feeling skinny - because I was hungry, not because I was actually skinny.

Thursday morning I woke up with a renewed sense of excitement! Here we go! Day 2!! Jumped up and went into the kitchen to make my shake. I was hungry, much earlier than usual for my routine, but that's not shocking.

Made my shake and drank it and by 9:30 I was ravenous.

Deborah and I were able to talk each other through the day and put day 2 behind... her. But I still had 8 hours to go when she called it a day.

I made my lunch shake and choked down 2 swallows before it came right back up. Disgusting. Honestly, I don't know how people manage this thing - all 4 cups of it. I subbed in some coconut water and called it a meal.

Dinner came and I made the family some really terrific looking spinach ravioli in a tomato and garlic sauce. I made myself the dinner shake. I didn't even sip it. Enter coconut water. I just couldn't bear it. I was so scared and grossed out by how it tasted last night - thick and blueberry-ish but too spicy. It was too weird. Bedtime was coming, I could go without.

Thursday night I sat down and did some more reading. I was losing hope. I was sooooo hungry and I wanted cheese, salsa, crusty bread, steak... I wanted a salad with oil and lemon for dressing. I wanted anything that I could chew and enjoy but still call "cleansing". A banana. Some slices of avocado. Apple. Berries.

So, I read other people's experiences with this detox and got energized. Not before I blew up Deborah's iMessage with my self doubt and pleas for mercy but deinfitely before I rages against my produce drawer and sucked down peanut butter from the jar.

The hardest part is that all this time - I was preparing and serving food for the kids. And who doesn't want what their kids are having? Jay was great and did what he could, but I wasn't gonna ask him to make dinner and tomorrow's lunch when he got home from work because I was laying around feeling sorry for myself and my self-inflicted starvation.

Friday morning I woke up and texted Deborah. We would finish strong! How was she doing?! I read more stuff and felt determined to get it done! Last Day!

She replied that she had finished strong. In fact, she had finished the whole damn thing that morning. She had had enough. I was jealous. She was chewing food again. And my OCD would not allow me to stop. I was two-thirds through and I was not going to stop.

I quit smoking cold turkey.

I could quit chewing, too.

I made my breakfast shake and took it on the go with me. It was reeeeeeallllly good today! I loved it!! I was reborn!! I was going to make it!

When I got home I realized I neglected to add the almond butter to my shake, probably an important part of my daily nutrition, but OMG, what a difference. For a shake that was already pretty ok, leaving out that stuff made it something I plan to make on a daily basis for all 4 of us.

For lunch, I made a green shake, but not the one I had rejected the day before. I used kale, spinach, apple, lemon and strawberries and topped it off with almond milk. It was really good. I would probably omit the apple or not use a milk for the liquid - it tasted a little off and I'm pretty sure that's why. But I don't usually use apples in my shakes anyway so it likely won't be a problem.

Dinner time came and the family had to be fed. Jay took the reigns and, using groceries I had bought so I had no one to blame but myself, he grilled burgers and baked fries. My house smelled like my delicious, delicious shame.

As they sat down to eat I went in to make my shake, my final, victory-rich shake.

I caught a glimpse of the plates filled with the food equivalent of hitting the game winning run and I stayed strong.

I did not, however, make the shake. I hate the shake. I had coconut water instead.

I don't know when or why I decided that coconut water was a good meal replacement but I did. And it got me through these few days.

So, here I sit. Friday night. Final evening of my Dr. Oz 3-Day Detox. I am thinking I will go to bed very early. I am really looking forward to a sprouted wheat bagel and more than one cup of coffee tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow afternoon we will be at the Pier and I will be looking forward to steamed Dungeness crab and some oysters on the half-shell. Maybe a beer. Although, I am a little frightened of how a beer might hit me.

Here are a few things I would do differently next time, because I would definitely do this again. I am already thinking that after summer vacation, when the kids are back in school, that's a good detox time. Or after Christmas break. Or between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

- I will not end on a Friday. Has to be a midweek event because it's mean that it's Friday and I want my wine and cheese and olives but I'm actually going to go to sleep by 8.

- I will not follow the ingredient list quite so closely. I understand how the fruits and veggies work, I understand the purpose. I just will not put myself through that green lunch shake ever again.

- I will prepare, portion and freeze more than enough breakfast shake ingredients and use that as my snack shake.

- I will time things differently - 8:00, 11:00, 3:00 and 5:00. I went too long between shakes and that, combined with the putrid lunch shake, led me to a point of such hunger I didn't even feel it anymore. But I was definitely slurring my speech.

Overall, I feel great. I had great energy after each shake (when I ate/drank them). I really feel slimmer. Taller. Healthier.

I feel like I can start fresh tomorrow. I don't want an ice cream cone. Or a steak.

I want steamed or raw shell fish and a salad with a healthy oil dressing... but maybe a little cheese on top.

I don't want a churro, but I sure could go for a potato.

So, I will take tomorrow as my new start. And I will delight my family with creative new healthy recipes as my love and appreciation for food has reached an all-time new high.

And perfect timing too because Deborah is coming - and we loooove to eat!

Picture Pages Picture Pages, Lots of Fun with Picture Pages...

2015-05-25T21:50:00.001-04:00

When I feel a little lonely I like to go through my pictures. I have always been the most annoying person with the camera in the crowd. I remember Carla Genuso making fun of me for it in high school. (I think she was in lesbian love with Michele, who is still my best friend - jealousy can be a bitch.) Anyway.
I like scrolling through and remembering all the great friends I have and the great times we have had together.
So, rather than overanalyze a little homesickness or try to compare and contrast different friendships, let me just say this about Hebron...

And believe me, this is not even a tip of an iceberg.

To everything - Turn, Turn, Turn There is a Season...

2015-05-17T20:00:00.001-04:00

Our move has brought many changes. The obvious changes are that we no longer live on the East Coast. We spent 10 wonderful years building our lives in Hebron and now we live in a strange city surrounded by strangers. We spent our lives in the northeast and just hauled ourselves to the southwest.
Another obvious change is that we no longer need to concern ourselves with weather. Honestly, not at all. And this became abundantly clear to me when my sister mentioned that Hillary had declared her candidacy. I had no idea. Granted, she announced it officially while we were neck deep in moving, but also, I haven't watched the news in weeks - if not months - because, truly, the weather was always the draw.
Now, I don't need to concern myself with how to send the kids out of the house (jacket, boots, layers, rain coat, hoodie, pants and short sleeves, shorts and long sleeves...) so I don't bother with the news.
My husband reads news, I read books written by Chelsea Handler.

Anyway.
I have been taking pictures with my iPhone as we go because there are so many new things to share that I don't want to forget but I don't often take the time to write it down.
Facebook has been awesome because it's basically the lazy way to stay in touch. It's quick and easy. But some things require more than a status update. And some people don't do the Facebook. This venue allows me to collect my thoughts and share my pictures all in one place. After a careful edit.

So, let's take a walk through our day here in sunny southern California...

First of all, most mornings, regardless of what you have been told, are not sunny at all. Most mornings so far look gray and rainy. They aren't rainy, mind you, but if it was Connecticut, I would pack my umbrella by the looks of it.
The sun does come out - and it doesn't wait until tomorrow. It is generally out by mid-morning and it stays out and the days are gorgeous.
But the days start gray and chilly. They warm up and get bright and happy. And they generally end with a breeze that keeps the warm sun from making you sweat. It really is as great as it sounds.

Jay gets up and out by about 7:00am. I do my best to get out of bed and make him something to eat before he leaves. Usually a Nutri-Bullet shake packed with vitamins and badstuff-fighting nutrients. I try to shove a bagel in there, too, but he's usually out the door before the toaster pops.
Once I see him off, I wake up the little girl. Wyatt is generally awake and playing Clash of Clans, working on his second breakfast by the time Abby wakes up.

This is Jay's office at night - but this about the lighting when he arrives in the morning as well.

The kids and I get washed up and dressed, eat breakfast and head to school by 8:30. School is about a mile away but we drive because who has that kind of time in the morning? There are no elementary school buses in Torrance. With 17 elementary schools, no one lives too far away to get themselves there.

At school the gates open for "morning play" at 8:35. The bell rings and the kids line up to go to class at 9 so this allows lots of that morning energy to burn off as the sun starts to come out.
The school campus is quite large and everything is outside. Each classroom door opens to the outdoors, like a motel, and the lunch tables are in a pavilion next to the tetherball courts.

Tetherball is a big deal around here.

The kids have 2 recesses - one around 10 and one around 2 plus they have outdoor lunch for 45 minutes which includes playtime. At 3:10 the bell rings for dismissal and the kids can play more - on campus or one block up at the park.
There is no "pick up" list, just a bell, an open gate and a swarm of elementary kids.

I meet the kids at the bike rack where they have parked their scooters and helmets from the morning. We generally park a block or two away so they can scooter in. In the afternoon I walk to school and we walk/scooter home. For me, its a guaranteed 2 miles a day walking. For them - it's a mile on the scooter and a great way to decompress after such a stressful day of lunch and multiple recesses.

In school Wyatt's teacher is an older, single, been-teaching-and-doing-crosswords-with-her-cats-for-40-years woman. Very, very sweet and very old-school. She is displeased with his scissor skills and asked me to work on arts and crafts with him this summer. She also thinks he should work on his handwriting as third grade introduces cursive and this kid can barely print. But he's an excellent reader! And his math is below level but next year (third grade) they begin intervention so he will likely get caught up then... but he's an excellent reader!
He has made several friends, he has many scars, scrapes and bloody scabs from various adventures and the school nurse knows him by name.

I don't know what to say about that boy other than he is wicked smart, adorable, clever, funny, sensitive and sweet. A great student, he is not. But hey - neither were his parents. Apples... trees...

Speaking of apples and trees, Abs is the orange in this comparison. Top of her class in reading, writing, and general behavior and attitude. The kid every teacher wants to teach didn't miss a beat moving across the country. Her desire to be the best and outdo the rest of the class is something that I did not nurture, she was born with that and I don't know who to blame. She is like a tiny female version of her dad now, she is not like anything that her dad or I can take credit for from childhood. But thank goodness for that, we say. She's awesome.
Her schoolwork is going very well, she likes her teacher and has made many friends.
She is better at articulating her feelings than Wyatt but I suspect he feels the same way - she misses her friends. She misses knowing everything and everyone and being involved in it all.

We took our Big Fish out of their Tiny Pond and dropped them into the Pacific Ocean.
Just keep swimming, babies... you're doing great!!

After school we walk home and get busy being cozy. Abby generally has quite a bit of homework, Wyatt has very little. They sit down and work and snack while I start dinner and help them. We eat in the sunroom when Jay gets home and after dinner they usually play outside for a bit before washing up and going to bed.

Both kids are scootering fools - all over the neighborhood regardless of my cries to stay on our block.
Wyatt picked up where he left off riding his bike and Abby has a newfound determination to get rolling. Her terror has subsided and her determination has taken over. She will get it any day now. And once that mission is accomplished the three of us can ride bikes back and forth to school each day. Over the summer we can ride to the pool for lessons then head down to the beach after that.
The pool is only a few blocks away and the beach is just under 3 miles.

The beach! Oh my... that's a change for us!
Torrance Beach is where we went for Mother's Day. It was breezy but nice and fairly empty since for most californians, it was too cold for a beach day.
We settled in and the lifeguard came over to update us on the tide, riptide and currents. The kids headed down to the water and Jay and I were sitting in our sand chairs taking it all in. The view is astonishing, really. Palos Verdes is a cliff town right on the shoreline and it's beautiful to see. As we are soaking it all in - the sun, the beach, the view, the fact that we live here - I see a fin in the water! Holy Crap! Wyatt's nightmare come true! A fin! He will never swim in the ocean again! And then another fin... and another... and about 12 more!
A whole pod of dolphins!!
Swimming, eating, playing... a whole pod of dolphins - within feet of the kids in the ocean. Being touched by surfers who sat on their boards to watch them go by.
And go by they did - several times in the hours we were there. Playing, eating, swimming and just being dolphins!
Absolutely amazing.

There are all different flowers, trees and birds here. Some people have rock lawns, some have astroturf and some just allow their grass to do what it's gonna do and even if it's not thick and green it still looks well manicured and pretty. Californians are so used to not having enough water, it's not a point of judgement.
I am loving all the different flowers. Lots of cactus, palm, succulents, pines... so many things I can't remember them all but I also don't have to. One of the beauties of renting with "gardener included". I do plan on planting some pots - a palm in a pot and a lemon tree in a pot. And when we leave here - wherever we go next - they're coming with me.

Weird bird-head plant.

This tree is at the park up the street. It grows sideways.

Do you think these people would mind if I dug this palm up and potted it on my patio?

Abby loves this tree with the crazy roots.

Don't know what this is called but it looks like a succulent, has purple or yellow flowers and grows everywhere!

Huge tree on our way home from school.

One of many very well groomed trees along our walk home from school.

So, Jay goes to work and the kids go to school and I am still kind of figuring out what I do. I definitely have had days where I feel a bit lost. I have no friends here yet. And I know the obvious answer to that is "get involved" but a) I kind of learned my lesson about that in Hebron and I'm not super anxious to get neck-deep in school stuff again and b) even if I was, it's May... school stuff is pretty much done.

So, I will bide my time with finding a yoga class, registering for summer camps and looking forward to what our summer adventures will be and of course, trying all the grocery stores till if find my "one".
At first I was a little embarrassed by the way that this particular chore excited me, but I've decided to run with it. I enjoy grocery shopping, I love getting the best deal and let's face it - if I didn't we wouldn't eat as well and probably waste a lot of money. It's pretty important so it's good that I like it. I also like laundry And I've come to like sweeping/vacuuming.
Having a one-story house makes it all seem a little easier. Shaving off about 1000 square feet helps, too.
Things I don't like still include cleaning bathrooms and cooking dinner. But hey - there are only 2 bathrooms and one is super small and at least we can grill every night - way better than kitchen cooking.

I will find my zone. And summer vacation is only a few weeks away so instead of feeling lonely or looking for things to fill my days, I am trying to enjoy the quiet and the lack of a to-do list. It should be a welcome change after the hurricane of events we just got through, right?

One more thing, these are from Manhattan Beach:

We watched a fisherman reel in a big one on Manhattan Beach Pier.

He knew what he had, said it was about 80 lbs.

Several photo ops later, he threw it back. Very exciting!

East Coast, Meet West

2015-05-03T19:12:00.005-04:00

Many, many thoughts to share. In the past 18-20 days we have seen our home in CT packed up and loaded on a truck, unloaded in CA and everything in between.

So many goodbyes, see you laters and keep in touches... it's hard to comprehend.
Strange as it may seem, I was not very sad to leave our families. I think the security of knowing they will still be family, still be there and will always be a part of our lives takes the worry out of the distance.
It was really sad to leave our friends. Distance takes more of a toll on friendships because you now have to work at it. It's not as easy as a carpool or a last minute glass of wine or a quick text. It requires effort. So, realistically, as I was leaving I knew there were friends I would never see again. Sounds harsh, but it's realistic and closing that chapter of our lives was tough. But I take heart in that we have years of wonderful memories - with photos to prove it - and that will never disappear.

I have been stressing over "Thank You Notes" but there is truly no way to thank your friends and family for sending you across the country with their love, well wishes, sadness, joy, celebration and a bunch of gifts! We are so blessed with so many good friends and so much love in our lives. We left CT with more wine than we started with, this is certain. Handmade scented candles, local syrup and honey, townie mementos and a handmade jug of New England memories... There are no words or individual notes than can express my appreciation. We built a beautiful life in Hebron. We were surrounded by love and support. We made friends that were an extension of family.
My friend Wendy said to me once, "in this town your kids are never anywhere that you don't know at least one person they are with". And that is a beautiful thing. the safety and security of that happy little bubble. We will never try to recreate that, we will always treasure it.

Our dogs & cat were shipped with a very nice man in a temperature-controlled van with many other beloved pets. It was an easy "Incredible Journey" remake but thankfully, they did not plot to escape and find us on their own. Instead, they stuck with Ronnie and arrived safe and sound - if a little skinny and exhausted. Should you ever find yourself in a position of moving and needing to get your pets there, too, I highly recommend these guys. They were great.
They have adjusted well and continue to sleep, eat and do a lot of nothing as if nothing has changed.

Pete absorbing some California sunshine by the loquat tree.

We have been surrounded by boxes, paper and our stuff for almost two weeks now. We are finally almost done. I see a few boxes that I need to sort and put away but at least I know what is in them and where I have to go with them.

before

after... but still not done!

I have Salvation Army coming tomorrow to take a few things we shouldn't have bothered packing and I hope to make the garage livable for my car this week.

But we have come a long way and my anxiety has settled quite a bit.

There is no Stop & Shop here so I have been shopping here and there trying to find my grocery groove. I loved the Farmer's Market but, of course, bought more produce than we can eat and threw half of it out. I need to temper that excitement a bit next time.

Only 4 people live here!

I am sure I have more to share about the move, the movers, the packing and unpacking and the adventures as we settle. The fact is, I have been putting off sending an email or posting a blog because there is SO much to think about and share that it is intimidating to sit down and try to do.

Bottom line is this - the four of us embarked on this adventure to gain a better sense of ourselves. We wanted to take away the safety net of family and community and learn new ways in new places, on our own. We want to see how life on the west coast is, we want to see the west coast!

We were ready for a clean slate and this is exactly what we had hoped it would be - so far.

We do not take lightly the luck and blessings that we have received. We also do not take lightly the hard work and team work that we put forward to make things work. All in all, life is quite good and we are a very happy little clan.

More to come as more thoughts and stories occupy my brain. I thank you so much for reading, it helps me to put it out there.

Here are a few pics to fill in some gaps..

Scootering home from school.

After school, Friday afternoon beach day. Manhattan Beach.

Manhattan Beach Pier about an hour before high tide.

We spent a week+ at the Residence Inn while we waited for our "Household Goods" (& pets) to arrive.

King Harbor, Redondo Beach (about 3 miles away)

The kids sleeping on our last night at the RI.

First Day at their new school! 975 kids in K-5. Big change!

Here, let me leave you with my deep thought from the other day:
It is so refreshing to live in a place so large that there are too many people to keep score with. No one cares what you're wearing or where you bought it. The street you live on does not affect your social standing in the community nor does the car you drive. And no one here is the majority. Indian, Japanese, Cuban, Mexican with a sprinkle or black & white - no one group dominates. This is truly a place where you are judged on the person that you are - if you are judged at all. This is city living. So refreshing and so much easier to be able to do what you love and be who you are. You are completely anonymous but never alone.
I know you can do that anywhere - and we all should - but for those of us from tiny towns still living in tiny towns, we know how hard that is.

Saying goodbye to Connecticut

2015-02-06T22:17:00.001-05:00

I remember giving up my NY plates when my little Civic and I moved in with the hubby. Jay said "we can get you an I ❤️ NY bumper sticker" and I cried.

I felt so weird giving up what I had always known as home. Leaving NY felt so foreign... And faaaar,

And my family is really into being from NY.

Fact: anyone from NY (regardless of region) is REALLY INTO being from NY.

I remember one Friday night at auntie Frannie's. I was flying somewhere. Or just got home from somewhere. And everyone else was getting ready for bowling. There was pizza.

I was standing in the dining room, telling a story and Grampy interrupted and said "where the hell are you from? I can't understand a word you're saying!"

At the time, I was embarrassed. Now, I realize that was pretty funny.

Everywhere I go people ask me where I'm from. In CT people think I'm from the streets of Manhattan. And put a bottle of wine in me, I sound like it!

In NY, I definitely sound like I'm from CT.

I moved here in 2001. I spent the first section of my life in NY. The section I had no choices and no opinion. I loved it. I'm hardly complaining. Being from NY is an honor that few can understand. Even those that are from NY and act like it is no biggie - it becomes a biggie when you no longer live there.

And not only did I live on a wonderful, storybook style street with a lake and good friends and a fabulous childhood next to my grandparents and surrounded by cousins... I also lived only 1 hour out of the city and with my city cousins right there. I truly grew up with the best of both worlds.

Then - at 25 - I moved to Connecticut.

As a New Yorker, we didn't much care for Connecticut. And still, I don't know what the state has to openly brag about. There is no major sports team. No good city. Even UConn gets annoying after one too many women's basketball stories.

But, much like being a New Yorker is something you can only really understand once you've left, as I plan to leave CT, I am becoming aware of all the little charms that CT offers that I will miss.

I don't think I took them for granted, because if I did, how could I recall them and share them with you, but as I pack up, I want to pay them their due and share them here, for all to enjoy.

First of all. Hartford. I love Hartford. My office in Hartford was so cool. It was professional. It had a parking garage. Men in suits and people "doing lunch".

I was so young and so naive and if I ever do it again, will be so much better at it.

Hartford offers amazing food and nightlife and a beautiful old theater.

Yes, it's dangerous and there are streets you do not want to walk down.

And as the restaurants and offices lost their flair for me, the emergency room at the children's hospital became a regular event and the Dunkin Donuts right across the street became a welcome beacon in times of distress.

Dunkin Donuts! Oh my goodness. My love for a medium hot, extra skim will never be matched. I have tried others. Not hot enough. Too strong. Too weak. DD is my only love, after home, coffee.

Diversity. Not in my town, duh. Everyone here is quite white. And if they're not, they're probably adopted. But I mean across the state. You can go from West Hartford and Hartford to Hebron and Glastonbury to Bridgeport and New Haven. And (here's a little state secret, NY) there's even a whole county that none of us even give a shit about!!

Imagine!!! Fairfield County exists in a bubble, basically. So rich. So spoiled. So damn busy and into itself. And no one even cares!!! NY hates Fairfield County. If we're being honest here, that little section of this tiny state has basically ruined our state for all of New Yorkers everywhere. And you know what, the rest of CT hates it, too!

(I won't lie. I would live there in a heartbeat.)

I like how close CT is to Boston. We could do a day in Boston. We don't need to plan a weekend around it.

When Abby was a baby I left her with Grammy and headed up to Fenway with the whole family. Led by uncle Kenny, obviously, I remember very little of it. Mix "new mom brain" with probably 30 Coors Lights. I actually have vague memories of the ladies room. But really, it was so much fun. And we did it in a day. I think Gina has pictures. I do not.

Finally. And my most favorite thing ever about anywhere. Our beaches.

Say what you will about Rhode Island or Long Island or anywhere else. They are all great. I love them all. But the kids and I - we packed lunch and a bag and a couple of boogie boards and spent countless hours, months worth of days in the sand.

My very first beach trip as a mommy was to Hammonasset in Madison. Jody invited Abby and I to join her and Quinn and Kieran and it was an amazing day.

It opened a door for me that I was completely unaware of.

After that she gave us her tent - like a dugout. The kids could have a blanket and shade and sit, eat lunch, play, even nap. Days worth of hours under that tent.

I finally lost that tent in a thunderstorm at Ocean Beach in New London last summer. It stayed with us a long time. And the memories will last even longer.

Hammo. Ocean Beach. Harvey's.

All on the LI Sound. All beautiful and charming in their own right.

Feeling more adventurous? Rhode Island is right up the road.

Big waves, little waves. Water parks, straight sand and surf. Crabs. Snails and critters.

It's all right here. And it's what I long for as I shovel, salt and make trips to the post office to get my mail because our freaking mailbox is covered again.

Once my mom said to me "wow, you don't mess around when you go the beach, do you?"

No. I do not. I mean it. And I enjoy the shit out of it. So do my kids. So does my husband.

Once upon a time - we put the house on the market because Jay was consulting and we could, in theory, live wherever we wanted in the USA as long as we were close to an airport.

Well, that's too many choices, and we didn't sell.

But - when looking with all those hypotheticals - we learned a few things.

1. Where we are does not matter.

2. Being together, happily entrenched in a home we can afford and be comfortable in and have the few things we want while enjoying the quality of life we love, is what mattered.

3. A McMansion is a thing that people want when they can't afford it. Once you can afford it, it loses its appeal considerably. (This surprised me more than anything, I think).

4. We are (as my motherinlaw stated in her matter of fact/know it all way that only she can master without annoying me) "beach people".

We are beach people. We love "chowdah" and grilled swordfish and shishkabobs.

We like to eat outside.

We wear flip flops and know who carries what and how to clean up a beach space we have inhabited for 6 hours in 6 minutes.

I am certain my mother in law never expected our beach to be 4000 miles from her. But she was right. (She is often right. It's annoying at times but I appreciate the consistency and reliability).

So off we go.

I wonder, on the beaches of Southern California, 3 glasses in... Will people ask me if I'm from Connecticut??

Hello again...

2014-12-14T19:07:00.000-05:00

Change is in the air.

RIP Great Bear 1943 - 2013

2013-03-19T09:09:00.002-04:00

My dad was a cowboy.

My dad was strong and brave and he was a man of his word.

My dad answered to no one and followed the advice of his own experience and intuition.

He always did what he thought was the right thing and was disgusted when others did not.

He held himself and everyone he cared about to the highest of standards and for that reason, unfortunately, he was often disappointed. He was very sensitive. He didn’t like to show that, or even feel it, but he hated to be disappointed.

He saw no gray in life, there was a right way and a wrong way to do things and he had no interest in hearing about or patience for dealing with things that were not being done the right way.

Whether we were raking leaves or pulling weeds or painting a room or planning a vacation – there was an order, a process that needed to be followed.

He loved my mom. He knew, as we all did, that he could not have handled most of what life dealt him if he didn’t have her, having his back. They loved each other and stood by each other when most people would have quit. He lived with his actions and consequences and used courage and honor to move past them, and she allowed him to do that. He admired her. He respected her. And they were a team that many of us can take a lesson from.

My dad had honor. He had a strict moral compass. He was macho and handsome and loved to flirt, well past the years that women loved flirting back.

He liked vacation. Vacation was the one week of the year that he calmed down and let the rules slide a bit.

I remember arriving at the hotel on a beach vacation one time – we had just walked into our room, put our stuff down and my dad went to the balcony and looked down at the beach and the waves hitting the sand. He told us kids to get our bathing suits on and within minutes the 5 of us were in the ocean, jumping and riding waves and enjoying our vacation, only 10 minutes in. My mom was setting up house, likely just as happy to be alone to tend to things as we were to be at the beach.

I remember watching the 1986 play-offs and world series with him. Every game. I remember Jesse Orosco’s last pitch and Gary Carter’s leap from the ground to the mound when we won.

I remember feeling like me and my dad were the only people in the world during those games.

I’ll never forget the feeling of hitting my first (and only) grand slam in Little League around that same time period and telling him and my grandfather about that. They were home watching the Mets, my mom and I got home and I ran into the family room to find my dad and grandparents and I said “I hit a grand slam!”

I remember martinis, peanuts, Vienna sausages and pepperoni with provolone cut into tiny angles.

I remember quadding in the woods with my dad. Ice skating on the lake. The raft test.

“If you can’t climb up on it, you’re not big enough to play with it.”

“Do the right thing.”

I remember the feel of his hand when I held it. Warm and rough.

I remember getting the Novocain shots and the stitches in my leg after I fell off the rope swing. It hurt like hell but he held my hands and I felt like I was tying his arms in knots, pulling and screaming and crying. But he stayed steady and strong for me.

I remember him walking me down the aisle on my wedding day and how we made fun of Deborah for crying before she went down the aisle, laughed so hard that my stomach hurt, but as soon as I turned the corner to go down the aisle, I lost it and he said “holy shit” under his breath and held my hand tighter and passed me to Jay.

I knew that he loved Jay and was so proud of us for finding each other and doing the right thing.

I remember struggling to nurse Abby when she was first born while my dad sat in the hospital room with me. He never flinched and I know it was not a pretty sight.

I knew my dad really well. Not just because he was my dad but because he and I talked. We were friends.

We talked about life and relationships and money and family and houses and politics. We talked about his life and the things that he did and faced and lived through. He never said what I should or should not do, but he did tell me things like “I’ve been there, I understand that.” And I knew he did, because I knew him, and that was enough for me to figure out what to do.

I tell the truth.

I work hard.

I treat others as I would like to be treated.

That is what my dad taught me.

We didn’t always agree. There were a lot of times that I completely, flat-out, whole-heartedly disagreed with him. And I would be scared to say it, but I did say it. And that usually ended the conversation. We had to agree to disagree because no one was changing either of our minds. And neither of us wanted to stop talking to the other one.

But sometimes it would blow that conversation up and we would yell. And that was good, too. Because you need to yell and be heard sometimes.

When we were kids my dad never came upstairs. Upstairs, in our rooms, that was our refuge. Because downstairs we might get in trouble for not having something on our feet, or leaving the tv on for 15 seconds while we went pee. Or having more than one lamp on or drinking in the family room or, god forbid, eating in there.

Once or twice a year, he did come upstairs. Maybe he timed it for when we were all up there. It was like an inspection. One of us would hear his first foot hit the first stair and it was like slow-motion. “Dad’s Coming Up!” And we would all snap into action. Decorations came down off walls, radios got turned down or off, school books spread out as if we were all cramming for finals, food or drinks got stowed, doors that were open got closed and vice versa. It was amazing the transformation that could take place in the seconds it took my dad to climb the stairs, deliberate, heavy breathing step after deliberate, heavy breathing step.

And then it would hit you – as you were sitting on your bed, studying with no drink, no radio and only 1 lamp on – you left a tack in your wall. And you knew he would see it. And you knew you were about to be grounded.

Indefinitely.

We had to let the phone ring twice before we answered it.

We had to use proper phone manners as well as demand it from whomever may be calling us.

No one could ever beep in the driveway to pick up us, and we had to be in by 6 on school nights, 10 on the weekends… until we were all in our twenties.

Not everyone got my dad. People liked him or disliked him, but not everyone understood him.

I did.

He was a complicated man who tried to live very simply. He tried to do the right things and he always did his best.

I loved my dad so much and I will miss him every single day for the rest of my life.

Dog Days

2012-08-11T23:28:00.001-04:00

So here we are, August 11th, and summer is coming to an end.

When I flip through my pictures and memories of the past few weeks it is a blur of sand, salt, seaweed, chlorine, over-priced ice cream pops and suntan lotion.

There was a lot of this:

And several days of this:

Probably too much of this:

Sometimes you gotta throw in a little of this:

Add a bit more of this:

A few afternoons ended like this:

And while it is not over yet, it is starting to get old. I have to admit it. As I have said so many times before on this Blog, I appreciate all 4 seasons, and never do I appreciate the next one more than when the current one is coming to a close.

When Spring has sprung, I long for lazy days of beach and pool.
And now, as my bright summer annuals are getting overgrown and under bloomed, my grass is growing slower, my car is sandier than the beach and the kids are so tan that people ask me where they're from...
They get on each other's nerves, which gets on my nerves.
They're bored, I'm bored.
We're ready to get back into our routines. We've been bouncing, shopping, watching, swimming, sunning, riding, running, visiting, partying, sleeping-over, over-indulging and generally doing nothing productive or useful and enjoying every minute of it. But we're done.

We want school and weekends and sports and dance and pumpkins, mums, boots and sweaters. Birthdays, Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas.We're ready. Because summer will come again, it's good like that. And I am so ready to organize closets and make handmade Christmas cards, finish that cork garland I have been talking about and maybe even that Kissing Ball I bought all the stuff for 3 Christmases ago...

We have a few more great things on our Summer Bucket List.
Next week we will head down to Ocean Beach in New London. Summer is not complete without soggy fries and soft-serve ice cream cones. Abby has it in her mind that she will conquer the "big water slide" this year and Wyatt just really looks forward to the Motorcycles.

The Motorcycle Ride, Ocean Beach Park - 2011

It's a Day-cation, for sure. One I really look forward to as much as the kids, if not more than them. Just blogging about it right now has me all revved up thinking about it. What a great way to spend a summer day. The boardwalk, the "waves", the white sandy beach and of course, the splash pad. I can't wait!!

The week after next we'll have a whole week of Daddy-Time. A whole week off of work to hang with us. Last year he tried this and Hurricane Irene stopped by. Assuming we don't have a repeat of 2011, we're really looking forward to spending some quality time. We'll hit the beach, drive up the shoreline a bit, maybe go see that new Disney movie about the plant-boy. Eat some good stuff, play some fun things and just send summer off in style. Beach, pool, firepit, movie nights, popcorn and icecream.

Because, really, without the sand, suntan lotion and tanned bodies - what would the point of summer be?

Dinah's Storm

2012-07-18T21:28:00.000-04:00

Today I drove around with an old lady dog in my backseat. She was soaking wet and running, terrified, from thunder and into roads that while I can't call them a "major intersection", I can say that for around here, it's dangerous territory. So, what choice did I have but to pick her up and let her sleep soundly in my backseat while I drove around for 40 minutes looking for any sign of someone frantically searching for their terrified, lost dog?!

And for what reason would I be driving around on this particular day, when this particular storm and this particular dog happened to cross my path, while my kids were at camp (for their first time ever, away from me for a whole day - we can discuss the hole in my heart later)? For what reason would this sweet, greying, frightened and lovely little girly dog run in front of my car while it's raining so hard I was trying to decide if it was just huge drops or actual hail? Her tail was between her legs, her thick, groomed wolf-like coat was soaked but her eyes looked peaceful and her body language asked for help.
So, I got out of the car. And I talked to her. And I opened by back door. And she hopped in.

At first, she stood and looked nervous. And while I am absolutely an animal lover, I am also an animal respecter - and with that comes a healthy dose of fear - and my fear of being bit kept me from going right at her to check her collar or pet her head.
I let her relax. I stopped home and checked on my own 'fraidy-dogs, got some water and a few treaties and went back to my little stray.
She was not hungry or thirsty.
She was tired. She laid down. She slept so hard I could hear her breathing. I thought about bringing her home and calling it a day.

But instead I drove on. And let her sleep.
And then I turned down a random cu-de-sac, all the while talking sweetly with my new girly dog. And I said to her "you never know why things happen the way they do, you never know why you make a turn where you would not normally turn" and so I turned. In that cul-de-sac I decided she was confortable enough for me to open the back door and pet her and check her collar.
No tags.

I think I already knew I was not actually going to take her to the Animal Control Office in town. First of all, they didn't answer the phone (or call me back promptly as their vm promised), so I knew they weren't there and confirming that wasn't worth the ride to me. Secondly, I called! I did my part. I was not going to "surrender" this sweet girl to the authorities in hopes that some uniformed guard might care enough to find her a home. I would be her home!! She was sweet!!

As I was checking her tags, a car pulled out of it's driveway and up next to me. I was looking for people looking for their dog - because everyone else was inside watching the storm, not standing outside in it. But this woman happened to pull out as I was checking out my lost girl.
She said hello and introduced herself kindly, I said "I found a dog!" She got out of the car and with the excitement of a 7 year old said "Can I See?!?!"
She did not recognize her but made no motions to leave me in her neighborhood, scratching my head.

At this point, I knew I could not let the dog back out of my car to find her way. But I also knew I could not squeeze my 2 small, excitable kids into the back seat with her. She seemed lovely and relatively clean, but who knows.
But I didn't know what to do.
Enter Debbie. My new best friend.

When I explained that I did not want to give the dog to animal control ("she's so cute!") but I also didn't want to lock her in my garage as the storm that she seemed to be running from raged on all around her, and I couldn't put her in my house with my 2 dogs who were also foaming at the mouth in the humidity and thunder and I couldn't keep driving around with her because I had to pick up my kids, Debbie said - without any hesitation at all and much to my shock and delight - "I'll take the dog!"

Here is where I have to tell you that Debbie was a striking red head - friendly, freckly, pretty and red. And yet, none of my usual red-head-flags shot up. She seemed so genuinely kind and concerned. Almost like she had been waiting for a new dog to show up. She had a blanket for the seat in her car and a leash!
("you never know")

So, Debbie took the dog, I went home to my own dogs and took stock of my day.

In the morning, I dropped Abby off at school for her first ever, long awaited, day at camp. As a stay-at-home-mom and beach-bum, I have never seen the need for summer camp. We hang out in the summer. We go to the shore, we go to the lake and we have a pool. But this year has proven more challenging than years past.
It's not that my kids are super-spoiled (they are, admittedly, regular-spoiled). It's not that they're bratty. But, at nearly-5 and 6-going-on-16 they are, without a doubt, on each other's nerves. And every day, with me, they are getting bored. They are without structure, and they are bored. They need more than what I am giving them. Next year I will plan better.
So, this week they went to camp for a day. I had meetings and camp is more fun and cheaper than a babysitter.
Abby went in the morning, lunch and 2 snacks packed, ready to rock. I kissed her goodbye and walked away.
I felt like my heart was going to fall on the hallway floor.
Amazing what absence can do for the fonder...
What the hell am I going to do when school starts?

From there we stopped at Papa's house to drop off Nana's sunglasses that she left at our place. A nice visit with Papa and the pooch. He gave Wyatt a new hat - a red one to match the red shorts and red t-shirt he chose for his day. The hat says "Stolichnya".

After that I dropped Wyatt off at his friend's house (and I really felt my loneliness kick in). They had about an hour to play before lunchtime and then they, too, were off to camp. We had decided (three of us, moms of 3 Kindergarten boys) that a half day would be enough for them at this point so they had a playdate and lunch first.

From playdate drop-off I went back to school to meet with the 2 principals of the 2 elementary schools with my PTA Co-Prez, CR. We met and chatted and did our agenda and political deeds. We laid out our meetings for the year, discussed costs and concerns and, I hope, are done with that.
The one thing I do not want, with this new role of PTA Co-P, is to be in meetings, in cahoots, in bed with administration.
Don't misunderstand me, I adore our principals - and our superintendant. I like & respect them as women and administrators. I consider myself - and our town - pretty lucky to have 2 female principals and a female superintendant that are moms and teachers and all around career women, but are also fearless and awesome and, to be honest, gorgeous. LOVE that.
But, as PTA prez, I want to be neutral. I don't want my personal opinions to play a role. I want to focus on the kids, their benefits, the teachers, their benefits and the overall community feel - the pluses, the extras, the greatness that the PTA can give to a community.
Not to be dictated by the governing bodies, only to be dictated by need, want and appreciation.

From PTA I went to the Country Club.
I finalized the menu for the Dinner-Dance I am planning as a fund-raiser for the local Food Pantry. I can honestly say "I" here because so far, it's all me. I will need help - I do! But I haven't found it yet so, so far, I'm pretty freakin proud of me.
We finalized the menu. Cash bar with Beef & Fish buffet dinner, appetizer stations, salads, pastas, desserts - the whole nine - it's gonna be awesome. DJ. Photographer.
I am so flippin excited.
Now, onto the marketing. That part is the key part because if I mess it up, or even if I don't maximize it - my planning, my whole idea - will fail.
I have to sell 120 tickets.
How?

From the Club I went to town. I had a few things for sale in the Consignment shop. It seems like Abby was the last girl born. We ran out of girls. Every baby born after Abby had a penis. So, I ran out of good things to do with her better clothes.
I am a huge charity giver. But sometimes - it's just too good!! I want to see it move on, or I want to get something back for it.
Ralph Lauren and Gap and Janie & Jack! I want to see a return on my investment!!
So, I went to consign. Almost 3 months ago.
And so, in parting with a shopping bag full of stuff, I waited and waited.
And I made 20 bucks.
I feel dirty.
I'll just pass it on from now on. If it's really worth it, I'll eBay it. Consignment is not for me.

From town I went to ManchVegas. Birthday party next week. Both kids are invited. Need gifts.
I went quick, one store.
Headed home as the skies got dark. And so we come back to the doggie in the street in the pouring rain...

Debbie took the doggie from me and I felt good about it. I felt sad because in that hour or so, I had gotten attached, but I felt good because we exchanged numbers and I knew that if she didn't find her home, she was going to keep her. I knew it.
So, I felt good.

About 3 hours later, she called me. She found her home. Her name was Dinah and she was home.

Life has a funny way of finding it's way.

And, to add to this story, it turns out - Debbie is BFF's with my next door neighbor. Small, small world.

One day in...

2012-06-26T08:03:00.000-04:00

... and it rained and thundered and lighteninged and rained some more.
So, what were we to do!? We went to the mall!! Duh!!
And while we struck out on both ideas I had for my niece's birthday present (my whole "reason" for heading to the mall in the first place) we were greeted by a brand new, still-smelling-clean Germ Tank!!
So while the rain poured and the lightening crashed, my kids were joyfully jumping, playing and bonking heads with several dozen other children.
Good stuff.

Today we will make an attempt at the Lake. It doesn't look particularly warm in the forecast but I somehow doubt that will stifle the kids' excitement. Me, I'm not planning to wear a swimsuit, but I will look forward to burying my feet in the sand while I sit in my beach chair and take it all in...

Oh, I wonder...

2012-06-19T18:50:00.000-04:00

...if the onset of summer vacation will make me more Bloggy or even less.... We are looking forward to so many summer adventures, not the least of which was officially (as in with real money) joining the lake this year.
We have a sunset date planned with Aunt Belle at Harvey's.
We want to go to the zoo in Rhode Island.
Big waves are calling from some beach in RI that we've never been to (Lookout?, not sure...)
Many trips to the various shore beaches we love.
Six Flags New England.
Maybe Santa's Village?!?!
A Camping weekend??

Wyatt will start K in the "fall" and Abby will start first grade. Both kids will get on the bus at 8am and get off closer to 4pm. That's a lot of time without my kiddos. I am not looking forward to it and I plan to take advantage of every moment this summer.
I know so many moms that sign their kids up for every camp and activity they can write a check for over summer break.
Not me. Not yet, anyway - (judge not lest ye be and all that jazz.)

So, Friday is the last day of school. We have a big pool party planned for all of our besties... Then it's off to the races. How much awesomeness can we squeeze into 8 weeks of summer vacation?

We shall see...

Good Quote

2012-04-26T06:30:00.000-04:00

You can tell more about a person by what he says about others than you can by what others say about him. ~Leo Aikman

Some days, I am completely honorable, others I am a bitch. Who's not - some days - right?

That's just it.

I am a genuinely kind and generous person, but sometimes I am just a bitch. And I always find myself berating myself for my bitch moments.

No more.

I will embrace my catty bitch. Because it's taken me this long to learn - you can't have one without the other.

The saint needs the sinner.

Too Much Sadness.

2012-04-24T21:32:00.000-04:00

I have a wonderful network of friends here in town. I call them all "mama" because that is what we are, that is what have in common, that is what is at our core.
We are mamas.

Some of us work outside of the home, most of us do not.
The women that I call my mamas do not make that an issue.
The women I call my mamas are the ones that I respect, admire, care for and trust. They put their families first, they care about our community. I can ask them to watch my children or grab me a dozen eggs since they're going to the store anyway. I don't sweat picking up a cup of coffee or having one picked up for me. We don't quibble over a lunch tab or who's watched who's kid more often or with shorter notice.
We support each other. We look out for each other. We ask for guidance and give advice.
We look forward to our kids growing up together and cherish the moments along the way.
We also drink large quantities of wine together, debate town politics, dish catty bullshit and laugh our asses off.

The past few days have been difficult for my mamas.

The past few days have been incredibly, mind-blowing-ly, miserably depressing.

Within our community, cancer took one of our own.
Just outside of our small community but close enough for the ripples to affect, there was a violent accident involving a 6 year old boy. He died.
And this past weekend, right here in town, a boating accident has put one of my mama's husbands on life support, with only prayer and hope to offer, we're all feeling completely helpless.

When I heard about the passing of my friend-of-a-friend, I felt sad but also some relief. She had been very sick for a long time and she had been preparing for the inevitable.
I felt some peace that she was finally out of pain.
And then it occurred to me that, while I was relieved for her relief, I hadn't really considered how much it sucked that she got cancer to begin with.
I knew her pre-cancer, we hung out in the same circle of friends, drank wine and laughed many nights. But I really got to know her story through her cancer, through that network of support and compassion, I had more to do with her in cancer than in life.
So while I am at peace with her being in Heaven, the grief of her passing hit me a few days later. She has twins, a boy and a girl. They are lucky to have their dad who was on the brink of re-marrying when her diagnosis came. They will have parents and siblings and a fine life ahead of them. But they won't have their mom.
That is really fucking sad.

When I read about the little boy who died, I was devastated. The story gripped me because the boy they showed in the picture was a happy, toothless 6 year-old, one I did not know personally but who looked like every other happy, toothless 6 year-old I know. He didn't look like a tragic accident.
But his parents lost him, his brother and sister lost him. He's dead and I am so sorry, I don't think I could feel any sadder for them if I did know them personally.
Then, I found that one of my mamas, one of my nearest and dearest did know him, and his family personally. Her 6 year-old boy went to pre-school here in our little town, with that little boy.
Then, she shared details of their lives with me, details of that baby's funeral with me, details of his mother's reaction and strength.
She told me about 15 boys in full Boy Scout uniform that carried a tiny casket down the aisle of a church followed by his mother, walking tall and singing proudly about her baby boy's trip to heaven.
Right when I didn't think I could feel any sadder through my whole body, she told me that the mother of that little boy said to her "we will get through this".

When I opened up my MacBook to check my mail after a busy day of domesticity and errand-running on Monday night, I did not expect much more than a Book Club update and to see if a few checks had cleared. What I got instead was a punch in the gut that I neither expected nor have completely recovered from.
A mama of mine, one of my oldest and favorite-est - her husband was "in a boating accident, is on life support, we don't know any more details."
Now, here is where the magnificence of my small town network comes in. This news was only hours old and already, 12 of us were on call for childcare, food prep, laundry, house cleaning, car pools and whatever else this mama might need.
That's beautiful, right?
And what's behind that? Love. Community. Support. Compassion.
All that.
And Fear.
Fear. Because that family? They're just like my family. They are us.
When she kissed her husband goodbye Saturday morning for Opening Day of Fishing in Connecticut, the very last thing on her mind was "this could be it, better make it a good one."
He wasn't going sky diving, or hunting or even Ice Fishing! He was going out on a lake, in a boat, with his buddy. I presume he's done this many times before. I wonder if she even woke up enough to say goodbye. He probably left really early. Did she even say good bye?
And now he's got a brain injury. He's in a medically induced coma because his brain is swelling. He is completely on Life Support.
And my mama and her beautiful daughters are sitting by his hospital bed, afraid to move.
What's going to happen to him? Them? What's next?
No one knows. No one can help. They can only wait. And I am terrified for her.

I know how awful and depressing this blog post is. I am sorry if I am completely ruining your day.
I don't even have a happy ending. I have only more questions.
What if that was Jay? What if he went fishing and hit his head and fell in the water and was in a coma on life support? What would I do? Because I know this family - and it could have been us.
That terrifies me.

So, today while the kids were at school I found myself with one of those pleasant afternoons of "nothing to do". A little perk of having no actual occupation.
I also had no money (another "perk") so I came home after dropping the kids off and swept the floor. Then I baked some cookies while The Birds was on cable in the kitchen.
It was a very pleasant afternoon. Wyatt came home with our neighbor so I didn't have to leave for pick-up and Abby came home on the bus.
They loved my cookies (chocolate chunk and pecans in a basic dough - nothing fancy but I had all the ingredients and they really came out great) and with nothing else to do, I sat down to watch tv with them.
An hour later, I woke up and found them both still sitting on me and the clock telling me to start dinner.
After dinner, we read a couple of books and Jay and I tucked the kids in.
Wyatt fell asleep but Abby asked me to snuggle her.
My girl is very intuitive and she can tell that I am a less than happy. Not that she knows why or how, but it affects her mood, too. I was happy to oblige so I got into bed with her and we snuggled. She fell asleep pretty quickly but I stayed. I was looking out the window of her bedroom watching the wind blow the trees, noticing how green things are getting and just feeling lost.
Then, I sort of focused on the trees and felt a memory. Do you ever feel a memory so vividly it's almost like an out--of-body experience?
I was remembering her little room with different colors, different curtains and paint... with a crib and a changing table and rocking chair.
I was rocking my tiny, tiny baby to sleep. Gently getting out of the rocker with her in my arms, gingerly placing her tiny-ness into her giant crib, desperate not to jostle her or wake her only to have to nurse and rock her back to sleep and repeat the process again.
Some nights I think I did it 2 or 3 times before I escaped her room.
I can remember those nights, feeling trapped, feeling like I would never get her off my boob, never get her to fall asleep on her own, never get out of that room...
And on this night, not wanting to get out. Wishing for a rocker and a crib...

Life is so precious. Family, friends, happiness. It's so precious.

Missed You...

2012-04-13T23:10:00.000-04:00

I may have mentioned this before... but people who do not signal when they are turning really annoy me. Being behind someone who is mysteriously slowing down and finally turn - that's annoying. But being behind them, I can probably figure it out and slow down with them... assuming I am looking, and not texting.
But the ones that are coming at me from the left, while I am waiting to turn out and go right. I hate them. Because when they don't signal, they waste moments of my time that I will never get back.

I re-signed up for Weight Watchers. Why don't I just call myself a "Lifer" and save on the monthly fee? I don't know but I'm back. And you know what is the worst part?
Not that one Cadbury Cream Egg will take up more than half of my day's intake. Not that my coffee and skim milk habit actually amounts to One Point... Not even that I am hungry all the time and actually contemplate how much exercise I would have to trade to eat steak. I don't mind that - that's a healthy trade off.
No, the worst part is that ONE GLASS OF WINE IS FOUR POINTS!!! FOUR POINTS!!! That's half a meal!! I have to give up food for the Grape. I'll do it, don't misunderstand me. I am committed to the Grape and I won't be turned off course.
But really, I think my skin is going to suffer.

The husband has been home for a couple of weeks now. It's an odd mix of love and discomfort.
I love having him around, but after 15+ months of not having him around, it's taken some adjustments. All in all, it's worth it.
T-Ball has started up again, yard work beckons and he looks pretty hot on his new Deere. Yes... I think his tractor's sexy.

Buffalo Wild Wings just opened up near us. Never been but I love wings and beer like a man and I am really looking forward to it. I see a Ladies' Night in my future.
See that?! See how quickly I can veer off course, Jenny Craig? From counting points to sucking down buffalo wings and Not Light Beer.
It's a long road ahead, readers.

I continue to battle my "do I send my baby to kindergarten or wait?" issues - suffering in silence because I really just beat my head against the wall. Do I have some motherly, internal, knowing that sending him is a mistake? Or am I just paranoid and worried?
I subbed in a kindergarten class yesterday and the teacher, a 30-year veteran, answered me with "I always suggest the gift of time, why rush?". 30 Years. She's seen a lot more than I can try to understand. And she's not the "crazy old bat" type that's been teaching for 30 years, she's so in touch and loves her kids so much.
The boy's teacher points to his progress reports and says "there is nothing here that would direct me to tell you to wait." In translation that means "I am so glad my kids were born first-quarter and I will never have to deal with this."
My heart says I am rushing him. My brain questions my heart. My husband is all about the empirical data. I have none. I have only worry, constant, unending, emotion-based worry.
However, I will add that with my experience in both kids' classes and in other classes since I started subbing I am starting to find more basis for my worry. More facts, mixed with even more worry... So who knows... a couple more months of school, a couple of months of summer vacation... only time will tell.

I have officially signed on to be PTA President. Hold your applause.
My good friend, Claudia, and I will be co-presidents. Neither of us wants to deal with the drama and bullshit but together, somehow, we will. And truly, we'll do a really good job. We're smart, we care and we're involved already - so it should go well. Stay tuned.

Is it Beach Season yet? I just vacuumed last year's sand out of my trunk... in preparation for this year's of course. Can't mingle the beaches.

Recognition.

2012-03-28T08:38:00.000-04:00

One of the struggles I have had as a stay-at-home-mom has been my occasional feeling that my work goes uncredited. Like, even though I am exhausted at the end of the day/week/year, I have nothing to really show for it, nothing to "prove my worth".

I know you can easily come back at that statement with "your children being happy and healthy are the proof of your hard work"... blah blah blah... I would say the same thing to you if you were feeling down. We all know that, some days it's just hard to feel that.

There is no one to blame for this feeling. It is just a feeling, no one makes them happen.

My husband is amazingly supportive and loving. He showers me with praise and adoration and he does not go unappreciated. I thank him, too. We are a good team.

Nonetheless, I have to admit that I am at times, at odds with my choice to give up "earning" for "caring".

I care for the house, the kids, the husband, his career, the school and town stuff... and I do care. A lot. And I take pride in my volunteer work, my involvement with the kids' school days, friends and activities.

I have never had any intention of throwing myself into a new career once the kids "get bigger". This is my career, this is my life.

Watching the stray kid here and there, subbing a few days a week at school, scouring sales for the best deals and never paying full-price - that is stuff I do to throw a little ching back into the pot sometimes... I like doing those things. Those things require little more of me than I am willing to give and those things are also voluntary. If I get called to work at school I don't have to go.

My husband has to to go to work. All the Time.

So, I don't complain. Not too loudly.

We have had a few weekends when Mommy has had to disappear for several hours. To the mall, to the gym, to Kohls - what have you. Mommy needs solitude sometimes.

Then, along comes a day like today - Tuesday March 27th - and all of my worry and need for measure are sated.

Today was report card day. And I am walking on air. I am a sappy, goopy mess.

Pride. Love. Pride... I am just a happy mama.

I know it's about them, not me - obviously I know that - but the pride I am getting from their progress far outweighs anything ever handed to me by a manager at any number of the jobs I have had in previous lives. Words like "well liked by her classmates" and "a natural leader at play". "25 out of 25" and "14 out of 14". "Cooperative and Polite". "Kind and Helpful". "Fun". "Energetic". "Happy".

"Focused and Enthusiastic".

No percentage above average or salary increase ever made me beam and cry and just over-the-top melt in the way that these pieces of paper that came home today have.

So. I'm doing something right. I have been recognized, indirectly, for my diligence. So, today - I will hold my head a bit higher, worry a bit less and hope that should the day come that a report card is anything less than fabulous, I don't hang myself by my own apron strings.

I Love a Rainy Night

2012-03-21T22:33:00.001-04:00

Spring - I am ready for rain boots and mud puddles, my friends.

There is Easter candy calling to me from the locked closet. It's all ready. Amazon will be sending the DVDs I ordered **in time for Easter** to cap off the baskets left behind by the Bunny (please, please, please).
Hotel reservations are booked.
Mets tickets are purchased (first MLB game for the kiddos, Easter-Eve at 1:00 against the Braves - awesome.)
Flowers are popping up, crocuses have bloomed, spring projects are lining up.
I am so ready for Spring. And with this weather, I am pretty much ready to open the pool.

Planning our yearly Easter trip to NYC always gets me excited. I do it almost immediately after Christmas. I put the decorations away and plan Abby's birthday party then I plan Easter. I love a trip. I really love a weekend away. It's just the right amount of time - 2 days then Home again.

I do not think that Ellen's JCPenney commercials are funny. Ever since I couldn't get through her book, I am liking her less and less...

Francine on American Dad is the greatest TV Mom ever.

Flip-Flops are back. The season is here and there is no going back now. If it snows next week, I will be cold, but I will be in my flips.

Colton is gone. I can enjoy Survivor again.
Or it will be boring as all hell. Only time will tell.

I Am Thankful for Spring.

2012-03-20T17:46:00.000-04:00

I have mentioned before that I resent being assigned a season for thankfulness.
I try to be grateful for all the greatness that fills my life every day.

Today in a PTA meeting the guest speaker was sharing his wisdom and insight about our children's childhoods and balancing home and school and activities and recreation.
He discussed the partnership that is fostered between parents and teachers and really dove deep into how it should work and how it should blossom and grow and be such a bond that really enriches our children's lives.
When asked what we, the parents in the audience, would like to see from our administration and teachers not one of us could say a thing.
Every thing he had listed, everything he had mentioned? Covered.
So, because I hate silence, I said "I honestly believe that our admin and teachers do all of that and more. I have trust and confidence and respect for each one of those ladies and the teachers that work for them. I am so happy and so grateful."
I, of course, choked up.
Then another mom said "I just try to take time each day, or even once a week, to reach out and say 'thank you'". And she started crying.
Then another mom said that she was "a Military Wife and she will miss the school, parents and community when she inevitably moves again" and I am pretty sure I saw a tear in her eye, too.

How freakin' awesome is that?!
Our PTA meeting was a Love Fest!

So, I am kicking off Spring with another season of thanks... and today I am thankful for Gilead Hill School and all that comes with it.
Our admin staff, our teachers, our parents and community - the kids - it's all part of the "system" and I am so thankful to be a cog in that complex.