Left Coast Mom

Am I Old Yet?*

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Wed, 11 May 2011 23:32:00 +0000

Say you were at Trader Joe's and turned around to find a guy staring open-mouthed at you. And then he smiled. And then he tripped over his own feet. You assume that it's because you just left the salon. Everyone looks awesome then, no? (Well, everyone who leaves Suzy's salon does.) That probably made you feel pretty good. Put a little spring in your step and a sparkle in your eye.

Now say that the next day, while you’re in your car, you see a piece of hair on your face. It might take a bit of the wind out of your sails when you realize that the hair is attached. And black. And sort of thick. Just one, but there it is. A whisker. Yay.

* The correct answer is "no." :)

Laughter Is the Best Medicine

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Mon, 28 Mar 2011 15:58:00 +0000

For the last couple of years, there's been way too much of this in my life:

and this:

and this:

and, OK, even a bit of this:

But nowhere near enough of this:

I want more of that. And who wouldn't?

Which is why, every week, I flog the local community in Redwood City to go to Comedy Monday Hosted by Dan St. Paul at the Little Fox/Club Fox Theatre. I can't be the only one who needs a laugh or 20 to get through the week, and I definitely don't want Comedy Night to go away for lack of interest. It's still pretty hit or miss, attendance-wise: some nights there are only a handful of people; other nights you can't find a table.

My friend Andi and I push the social media aspect relentlessly, reminding the host and manager when to post and where to post and how else they can promote the show. They're getting better at it. :)

It's not always going to be 100% funny, but it has never been even close to 100% suck, so if you're in town, please check it out. It's only $10 cover and they do have a bar. Even better, if you're in town, I'm designated driver.*

* Assuming I know you, of course. If not, I'll be happy to call a cab for you :)

Happy Pi Day

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Mon, 14 Mar 2011 17:25:00 +0000

At breakfast this morning, Hannah was talking about Pi Day at school and said that, if you had signed up for the challenge and were able to recite your target number of digits, you would get a piece of pie. Probably apple. She wasn't sure, but someone told her that last year it was apple.

Hannah didn't sign up for the challenge—memorizing at least 30 digits past the decimal for third graders—but she was trying to remember them all, anyway. She got to, I think, 17, when Charlotte cut her off, announcing that she'd rather have cake, thanks. Preferably chocolate.

Untitled, Because I Couldn't Think of Anything That Worked

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Thu, 10 Mar 2011 19:02:00 +0000

A couple of weeks ago, the girls met their father’s girlfriend. He told me that the introduction went well and the girls had seemed to like her. They met at California Academy of Sciences—an excellent choice, as it’s one of their favorite places to go—and they told me that she was really cool and pretty and nice, and we agreed that it was good that daddy was happy.

But the girls were also . . . clingy. And more emotional than usual. Not in the vein of Charlotte’s epic temper tantrums—we seem to have finally outgrown those—but just more emotional. Weepy, almost. And, since then, they’ve slept in my bed every night they’ve been with me.

About a week ago, I thought that I had finally figured it out and, as Hannah and I sat on the floor playing with Lego’s, I said, “You know, it’s OK if you like her. It doesn’t mean that you love me any less.”

The look of relief on her face made me both happy and horribly sad: happy, that I’d figured it out and had managed to set her at ease, but sad that she had felt that way at all, and for almost a week. So I also told her something that a very good friend of mine once said, “Having another person who loves you can only be a good thing.”

I thought it was an excellent way to look at the situation and, happily, Hannah agreed. But she then added that she worried about me when she and Charlotte aren’t with me. So we had a long talk about how she is only eight and gets to be the kid and how I am a grown up and I have friends and work and I go out now and again and that I have fixed almost everything around the apartment that needed it and that she really, truly, doesn’t need to worry about me.

Last Spring, a friend sent me a link to a Gawker column about the novelist Justine Musk. The gist of the article was that, while Ms. Musk did blog about her protracted and somewhat messy divorce from Tesla CEO, Elon Musk, she did so without rancor and without getting nasty, something I can totally appreciate as I have tried to do the same with my few divorce-related posts. But that wasn’t the part that struck me. The part that got me was the mention about her meeting the new girlfriend, Talulah, and how she had handled it, telling her in an email:

“I would rather live out the French-movie version of events (the ex-wife and new fiancee become friends and various philosophies are pondered) than the American version (one is 'good' and one is psycho, there's a big catfight sequence and someone gets thrown off a balcony)—the latter of which seems vastly overrated.”

This approach seems completely logical to me, particularly when there are children involved. Because, just as it can only be good for them to have one more person who loves them, it can only be dreadful to have more tension and more people arguing and saying nasty things to or about one another.

And so, while I don’t believe that she and I will be out shopping together for a dress for the Father/Daughter dance next month (Hannah’s suggestion), I don’t bear her any malice. There were problems in my marriage long before she arrived on the scene, problems that had nothing to do with her. Contrary to rumor (and some of my own posts :), I am actually pretty sane and, when the occasion demands, rational. And I would do anything for Hannah and Charlotte.

I just wanted everyone to be happy.

Random post

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Tue, 08 Mar 2011 20:59:00 +0000

So I found this god awful wig in a New Orleans hat shop during Mardi Gras a few (OK, many) years ago. Whadda ya think? Should I go red?

(Psst: The correct answer is "no." :)

Insomnia

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Fri, 25 Feb 2011 20:33:00 +0000

I haven't slept for more than two hours a night for the last five nights. Right now I'm basically running on naps (since you can't really call a combined total of two hours a night anything else) and caffeine. And, before you ask, yes, I do stop drinking coffee well before bedtime. Before lunch, even.

Friends have suggested everything from a hot shower at bedtime to meditation to magnesium supplements to wine to Ambien to Ambien and wine (um, no). Meditation doesn't work because the only topic I can get my mind to focus on is that one that is keeping me awake. The hot shower resulted in one solid hour of the two hour per night thing. The wine? Tried a glass with dinner last night—it made me sleepy, but not enough to actually stay asleep. Wine AND Ambien? Not going there. Ever. I learned the hard way to not mix any kind of pills with alcohol of any type. Once was enough, thanks.

But the lack of sleep is starting to show:

Fortunately, someone invented makeup and, a few months ago, a nice man at Nordstrom showed me how to use it. It helps a bit, I think:

Now, if you'll excuse me, it's time for a nap. Ha.

Random Observation

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Thu, 03 Feb 2011 04:52:00 +0000

I was told recently that I was dehydrated.

I don't see how that can be. My coffee maker holds about a gallon of water and I go through that every day.

Who Says Economists Don't Have a Sense of Humor?

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Wed, 26 Jan 2011 16:25:00 +0000

I found this fun little nugget o' goodness whilst reading Infectious Greed, Paul Kedrosky's blog on Finance & the Money Culture. Now, I don't actually have access to the full paper, and you probably don't either, so I don't know if the "inconvenience cost" includes having to get the dog/cat/kids out of les toilettes 10 times a day. But, as Mr. Kedrosky notes, it's good to know that not all economists are unduly worried about, well, the economy. Or jobs. It's also good to know that they can put that fancy degree to work to win an argument. Next up: The Economic Costs of Sleeping on the Couch.

Up Or Down? A Male Economist's Manifesto on the Toilet Seat

This paper develops an economic analysis of the toilet seat etiquette. I investigate whether there is any efficiency justification for the presumption that men should leave the toilet seat down after use. I find that the “down rule” is inefficient unless there is a large asymmetry in the inconvenience costs of shifting the position of the toilet seat across genders. I show that the “selfish” or the “status quo” rule that leaves the toilet seat in the position used dominates the down rule in a wide range of parameter spaces including the case where the inconvenience costs are the same.

Happy Birthday, Charlotte!

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Thu, 06 Jan 2011 05:56:00 +0000

Six years ago today, after six weeks of bed rest ("Make sure you stay on your left side, please!"), what seemed like countless shots of terbutaline (actually I think it was six), several bags of magnesium to stop labor, a heart medication to prevent contractions and a combined total of two weeks in the hospital, the most amazing, stubborn, beautiful, funny, wicked, smart, confounding and astonishing little person was born—six weeks early. My Charlotte, one of the strongest kids I've ever met.

She refused to stay in the womb. Born weighing three pounds, 11 ounces, she spent two weeks in the NICU to get her weight up to four pounds, but didn't need any other intervention. It took almost three months to get her to eight pounds, two years before she could walk and three years before she could talk. She had almost 200 signs at one point, but once she discovered the joy of the spoken word, she ditched the signing. Of course, the joy of the spoken word soon gave way to the absolute bliss she seems to find in shrieking, but that's another post. Or 20.

She has endured visits to neurologists, ophthalmologists, audiologists, orthopedists, physical therapists, occupational therapists and speech therapists. She's had several EEGs and two MRIs. She takes medication twice a day, every day to prevent seizures. She has a high pain tolerance, once walking through a rose bush bare foot, in shorts, only really noticing a problem when she began to bleed. And when she cut her head two years ago, she didn't cry while they put in the four stitches it took to close the gash. In stark contrast to Hannah, Charlotte has never cried while getting shots. (Hannah once told me that it was because she cried enough for the both of them :)

When she's not yelling—which really isn't all of the time, though it may sometimes seem that way—Charlotte is a delightful, hysterically funny little kid. She can be shy, but once she knows you, she will do anything to make you laugh. For her, a day without dancing and singing might just be wasted time. She adores her friends, especially her BFF, Sofie. She loves kindergarten and Mrs. Baldini and Mr Danny G. She never met an animal she didn't want to hug (even though cats make her sneeze), a rule she didn't want to break, or a last, frayed nerve that she didn't want to swing from.

She is exasperating and charming and exhausting and exhilarating and I adore her. I can't wait to see her grown up, but I am afraid time will go too fast and I'll miss all the in-between parts. So thank god (or, in this case, Steve Jobs) for video so I get to capture—and share—at least some of her.

Happy Birthday, sweet girl!

Last Hannah-ism of 2010

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Fri, 31 Dec 2010 20:21:00 +0000

Leave it to Hannah to save the best for last.

Back in the Spring, I posted Hannah's reaction to the news of the impending divorce. One of the best bits was her remarking that it must be almost dating season (which, she later told me, officially began on the Summer Solstice). Today she and Charlotte decided that, as we were going to a New Year's Eve party, we really needed to get dressed up for it and so, "Really, Mom, go and try on all of your fancy dresses. We'll help you choose."

On the third dress, the zipper got stuck and I had to ask Hannah to help me with it. With only the faintest sigh of exasperation she remarked:

"You know, if you'd get a boyfriend, you wouldn't have to ask me to do this."

Charlotte agreed.

"Yeah. Go get a boyfriend, Mommy."

Happy New Year!

Awesome Hannah-ism

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Sat, 18 Dec 2010 01:54:00 +0000

Last night at dinner, Charlotte decided that she didn't like what was left of her meal. Rather than just saying something like "Mom, I'm done" or, "Thanks Mom, but I really don't like potatoes," she went straight for "Don't ever make these again. No me like them." And then she said it again, louder. And again. And . . .

I didn't get a chance to interrupt, but Charlotte doesn't like even the thought of not getting her point across, the thought that someone might not be paying attention. And she was tired. So we went pretty much from having a nice, fun, chatty dinner to Charlotte screaming and being removed from the table.

After I (gently) dumped her in her bed and returned to the table, Hannah said:

"Man! I do NOT want to get pregnant!"

See? Silver linings everywhere! You just have to look.

More Holiday Lights: Holdman 2007 Music Box Dancer

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Thu, 09 Dec 2010 16:53:00 +0000

I feel better already :)

If You Weren't Feeling the Holiday Spirit Yet . . .

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Thu, 09 Dec 2010 16:49:00 +0000

More Adele: Someone Like You

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Sat, 27 Nov 2010 20:03:00 +0000

ADELE 'Rolling In The Deep' (Studio Footage)

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Sat, 27 Nov 2010 19:45:00 +0000

'Tis Done

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Mon, 22 Nov 2010 22:50:00 +0000

My divorce is final today. Which, even after so many months, was actually a surprise because, due to a clerical error by his attorney, we had expected that it might get pushed into next year. But she was able to fix it and so here we are. 'Tis done.

Some of my friends have offered their congratulations and asked how, or if, I would be celebrating.

I will not be celebrating.

I don't think that the dissolution of a marriage is anything to celebrate, particularly when there are children involved. The thought of yelling, or even saying, "Hooray!" or popping a champagne cork seems . . . immature. Shortsighted. Pointless. For me, at least.

And we didn't just end the marriage, we also managed to shred the friendship in the process. I hear that's pretty common, but it's definitely not how we set out to handle it. So, although divorcing was absolutely the right thing to do, it still marks a failure that affects not only us, but two very beautiful little girl as well. And I didn't just lose the spouse: I also lost his family, who always felt more like my parents than my own parents did. Again: not much cause for celebration there.

As for the other big question:

No, I will not be moving. As expensive as it is to live here and as much competition as there is for jobs, Thomas needs to be here for his work. Even if we did not share custody, I wouldn't think about moving them away from him. He and I sucked at the whole being married thing, but he's a good dad. So I'll be staying here on the Left Coast. I like it here and so I'll find a way to make it work.

Thank you, Home Depot Dudes

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Sat, 20 Nov 2010 15:14:00 +0000

Me: “OMG! I am so happy to see you!”

Window Dude #1: "We need to measure first, to see if they fit.”

Me: “No. They must fit. I’ve been waiting since July.”

Window Dude #2: “What the hel . . . er, why have you been waiting since July??”

Window Dude #1: “Yeah, seriously. This window just fell out on my head.”

Me: “The HOA had to vote on it. Apparently, they forgot a couple of times and then the application wasn’t on the proper letterhead.”

Window Dude #1: “Man, that’s total bullshit.”

You are correct sir. Total bullshit. But thank you: I now have new, double-paned windows in three of the five windows in this place, and greatly reduced traffic noise.

Thank you, Home Depot. I won’t stop mocking your company, but I will continue to thank your contractors.

Think you had a bad hair day?

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Sat, 20 Nov 2010 04:13:00 +0000

OK, perhaps you did But this is CRAZY hair day. Charlotte and Jack have been looking forward to it for a while now :)

*It's just good luck that they sorta matched.

Back to the Job Hunt—Flattery, Rejection and All

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Wed, 03 Nov 2010 16:18:00 +0000

One of the nice things about looking for a job is that you get to hear things like "You are a really talented writer!" and, "Your resume is impressive!" and "You are clearly very intelligent and highly versatile."

The downside is that these lovely, flattering comments often come just before things like "We have a large pool of candidates, and several of them more closely map what we're looking for." Or the dread, "We'll keep your resume on file and if something comes up that we feel is a better fit, we'll give you a call." No, you won't. It's sweet of you to say so, but no, you won't.

But I am talented and versatile, so . . . onward! In the meantime, I would like to thank the hiring managers who write the nice, if-it's-a-form-letter-it-doesn't-look-like-one and don't bother stringing applicants along with the "We'll keep you in mind." Because they can't possibly, with that many job openings and that many resumes, keep in mind anyone who falls below the level of senior management. It might seem like a nice thing to do, but offering hope where there is none isn't actually kind and some people will actually believe it. After all, I suppose I do fall for the "very talented," "intelligent" and "highly versatile" comments* . . . .

* I know—because I am. I also have an excellent sense of humor ;)

For Every Girl, No Matter How Old You Are

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Thu, 28 Oct 2010 21:29:00 +0000

A Random Bit of Awesomeness

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Fri, 22 Oct 2010 07:05:00 +0000

So, you know that a group of cows is a "herd" (unless there are 12 or more, and then it's a "flink"*), a bunch of sheep is a "flock." and a collection of crows is a "murder." But did you know that a group of ferrets is called a "business?"

So when you hear that someone is "gettin' the bizness . . . "? That's right. They're being swarmed by a band of marauding ferrets.**

And if someone is all up in your business? Suggestions?

* "WTF?" is an excellent question.
**But not the black footed kind--they prefer to fly solo.

Random Question of the Day

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Thu, 21 Oct 2010 16:48:00 +0000

Why does non-waterproof mascara come off the eyelashes at the mere hint of moisture, but will not come off your face no matter how much soap and water you use?

I'm sure that's great if you're shooting a music video or movie and she needs to show that she's really, truly been crying, but it's not so great for us normal people. It might smack of desperation in the job interview--not a great place to start, methinks.

(Of course, this could also have been filed as a Dammit, especially as I am out of make-up remover cloths. Dammit!)

I'm Needy. There. I Admit It: I Need You

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Wed, 20 Oct 2010 03:37:00 +0000

Not so long ago, a social media guru of my acquaintance sent an email regarding one of my blog posts—the one about me not writing anymore. I’ve felt, for much of the past few months, that I shouldn’t post anything that actually resembled my life, because of the divorce and because there were other people involved. Namely, Thomas and the girls. And because I often find it difficult to write about anything unless it’s something I’m truly interested in or passionate about or getting paid for (sorry I have to say that because it’s my job), I have said nothing. For a long time, I have said nothing.

It has not been as amicable as we had hoped. It has not been as respectful as we had hoped. It has not been something upon which I have hopes that we can eventually re-build a friendship. And so I have said nothing. Because I did not think it something that you wanted to hear, or that I cared to inflict upon you.

But there was this email from the social media guru of my acquaintance. When I wrote, “I don’t write anymore,” he (and one other,) asked, “Why do you need an audience?” It took me a long time to figure out why it mattered.

I need an audience—I need you—because of the way I write. It’s a conversation. When I write in a journal, when I know that it’s only for me, I leave stuff out. I forget words. I sound like a 15 year old, trying to impress my inner self, the self that has already heard the jokes and the one-liners that might make someone else laugh.

But when I write here, I write for both of us, and whether you like it or not, I write for myself and for you. And some of you tell me that that’s OK, that you’re OK with that arrangement. Even those of you who wonder at the liberties that I take with the English language and proper sentence structure.

Writing to you, talking to you, having this conversation with you—some of you for five plus years—has allowed me to become a better writer, and indeed, to better understand myself. I certainly don’t think I’m brilliant, but I know that I am a better writer because of this blog and because of you. I appreciate all of the times you have told me you loved what I wrote, as well as all of the times you’ve told me that I was wrong. And I have been wrong. About a lot of things. But not, I think, about this.

And so, to the Social Media Guru of My Acquaintance I say this: I need an audience because I need people. I like people. I used to be painfully shy; it was hard for me to get to know people. But, in part because of this blog, it’s become easier over time. I like people and I like to feel close to them, even if they are half the world away. I like to know what they think and how they feel and who they are and what makes them . . . well, really, what makes them them. I like talking to them. Talking to you.

I have loved being Left Coast Mom. I have loved writing this blog. And I will continue to write this blog because I am OK admitting that I need you. That I need an audience. All twelve of you (inside joke).

Apartments Are Fun, Part: Ugh

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Thu, 09 Sep 2010 03:49:00 +0000

The first time I ran the dishwasher in my apartment, the front of it fell off. Not the entire door, just the face that covers all of the wiring. Fortunately, it was a pretty easy fix, no real harm done. Just a nice little reminder that things certainly aren't what they used to be. So that was my first "Apartments are fun!" moment.

And then, a month or so ago, I posted a photo of my living room window on Facebook. Normally, your basic apartment window wouldn't seem to be remotely interesting (not that everything I FB is interesting, by any means), but this particular window was in the middle of my living room. Still is, in fact. Propped up against the wall, where it's been ever since it fell from the frame when I tried to close it. As much of a pain as it's been to have it where it is, I've been able to see the silver lining: these are the original windows, in all of their steel-framed, single-paned glory. The windows will all be replaced--hopefully before it begins to rain again.

So that got the second "Apartments are fun!" note.

And tonight, "Apartments are fun, Part: Ugh." Because we came home to find teensy gray ants all over the living room and deck. It's a third-floor apartment. But there they were: little ants in a line from the back door, half way across the living room. I don't like killing things, so there was a lot of sweeping up and throwing away. I found their nest under a plant and so threw away the nest, the plant and all of the little buggers I could find. I figured that if I put them all in the dumpster together, they could all just move into a new place and be happy together somewhere that wasn't my living room. Is that weird?

What made it worse was that, after finding them wandering around late, I wondered "Do ants sleep?" According to "The World Almanac for Kids," eh, maybe. Ants don't have eyelids, they do rest, but apparently, hooking them up to the machinery that would allow us to see if they actually sleep would be a bit bothersome to them--no doubt keeping them awake if they were trying to sleep. The World Almanac for Kids also says that "ants display many behaviors similar to ours. For example, worker ants take care of larvae by feeding and washing them." Fantastic. One more reason to not kill them: Who would wash the babies?

So there's your lesson for the day: Apartments are fun, ants may or may not sleep and Melanie is weird.

I Know What This Must Look Like . . . .

noreply@blogger.com (Melanie K) — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 16:16:00 +0000

. . . but Jack is just fine :)