Toddlers Trapped On A Plane!

Now that I have children, it's hard to remember what I was like before them.  But some things I do remember...I remember distinctly how annoyed I would get when I was flying and I would have to deal with screaming babies/children.  I would think all kinds of terrible things...about how the parents must not have any control over their children or be very good disciplinarians.

Boy, have the tables turned.   Now I'm the parent that other people stare at with frustrated looks and big sighs (most of these people-- I'm guessing-- are like I was...sans children!).

Today, I travelled over 12 hours with two toddlers, two connecting flights, and two running-from-gate-to-gate airport scenarios.  And let me tell you, it was CRAZY!  The worst part was how bad I felt for both of my children, who by the end were so tired and cranky, and the people sitting around us on the plane, who had to listen to a lot of screaming, whining and fidgeting around.  

The funny part of the trip was the reactions of the people around us.  You can definitely tell who has children and who doesn't.  I'm always so surprised about how understanding and kind people can be in difficult situations.   I'm also surprised about how mean people can be when you're disturbing their space.

My husband turned to me in the middle of one of the difficult child plane scenes and said "I forgot how fun it was to travel with kids...let's make sure we do this a lot more!"  It made me giggle.

The rest of the trip I was doing Jedi mind tricks just to keep from losing it!

Ready to Fly!

Hi ladies -

Thank you SO much for all the support you have given me by comment and e-mail in the last few days. It's been so great to hear from you!

This last week has not been easy but I'm so happy it's over (I'm leaving for vacation to visit my parents tomorrow)! BTW, it is a "vacation" if you're visiting your parents and taking your two toddlers? I've always thought it should have its own name...famcation?

Because if your parents are anything like mine, it's not exactly a relaxing and carefree break. It may be filled with love, which my family is, but it's also chaotic and frenzied!

So I'm off early tomorrow for many hours of travel but I promise that I'll be sticking to my commitment of writing every day so I'll see you guys tomorrow!

Guilt Free Vacation?

I'm so tired that my body aches. I had one those days at work that makes you want to quit at that very moment. The day was full of frustration, unreasonable deadlines and demands, and several little snide comments (including a few about the fact that I'll be on vacation next week). A few times during the day I even started day dreaming about all the things I would say to my boss if I was actually nuts enough to dramatically quit and leave for good right there and then!

But of course, I didn't quit. Instead, I swallowed my anger and frustration and got through the day. I then came home so beat up that I was almost numb to my sweet boys' smiles. That is almost, because as any mom knows, your child's smile (especially if its the toothy toddler kind) can melt even the biggest iceberg of a mood.

Just as I was about to calm down and forget about how mad I was, I remembered the snide comments about my vacation and the fire started again in my belly. THE NERVE! I don't understand why I can't go on vacation without having a big work cloud over my head? And it's never the right time...in fact, it feels like it's always exactly the worst time.

I blame myself for taking it all so seriously. I see senior people (men!) at my company take vacations all the time and they don't seem to sweat it like I do or feel as guilty. But oh no, not me, I'm all about guilt. And let us not forget my constant campaign for professional perfection. Even the thought of something I'm in charge of or even mildly involved in not going well drives me NUTS!

I know that not every day at work is all sunshine and roses but how bad do periodic dark times have to be to not be worth it?

Home Work Here I Come

So today I put forward a proposal to my company. Here is what it said: I would like to work less, be paid more for each hour I work and I'd like to do all those hours from home.

Here's what they said. You want WHAT? I explained again that I wanted more money (because I wasn't being currently compensated appropriately for the caliber of my work), I wanted to work fewer hours (so I could have the flexibility to be with my kids more) AND I wanted to do all of this remotely (home or while traveling with my husband and kids).

For days I'd imagined this moment and kept thinking that they would look at me with an expression that said that "you have SOME NERVE making these demands!"

But instead, they said OK. They thought we could work it out.

What? I was confused. No resistance? NO challenge on the money part? I was almost hoping for some push back so I could do my speech about my worth in the market, my years of loyalty, my commitment...you know, I am woman, hear me roar!

So now, starting September 1, I will be working from home...I just wish I knew what that meant exactly.

Jumping Into Uncharted Waters

After seven years of working at the same company and for the same boss, I'm going in to work tomorrow and will give them an ultimatum.

When I joined this company in 2001, I was a single woman with lofty goals and great ambition. I worked very hard and got several promotions within the first few years. It was the right fit for me. My boss and I saw things the same way. We were always ready to forge ahead with any challenge and conquer any obstacle. And it was fun and exciting.

Since I joined, I've gotten married and had two children. With my first child, I went back part time because I didn't want to be away from my baby the entire week. With my second child, I also went back part time and it all worked out pretty well. As time went on, I didn't seem to be as happy or as driven as I was before and my ambitions were more about my family than about my work.

Several times I was asked to come back full time and was told that I could write my own ticket and have the position I wanted more or less. But to me, full time was not an option anymore and I didn't see when it would ever be an option again (not in the near future anyway).

Then one day, I just didn't want to be there anymore. Things had just changed so much. The pressure started getting to me and I hated bringing that energy home. Also, I desperately wanted to try something new, something that I really enjoyed doing. But how could I quit? First of all, the money was great and without it, we would need to make sacrifices and cut backs. And there was no guarantee that any new "something" that I would try would bring in anything close to my current job. Also, this company had been very good to me. Anytime I had asked for anything in terms of changing my schedule or taking extra time off for my maternity leave, they had not even flinched. They were like my family and loyalty was very important to them. So I stayed.

But then two things happened. My husband got a job that requires him to travel about once a month and my oldest son enrolled in preschool and would start five days a week in September. My family schedule was about to change dramatically. That's when I decided that this was the right time to change my life too.

But how? Should I just quit out right or come up with something that could still work for my new schedule and allow me the time to explore something new? It was a hard choice but I have decided to give them an option.

Tomorrow, I will go in and tell them that I want to reduce my hours, work from home and I want to get paid more per hour (because, like many part time working moms, I have been underpaid for the amount and caliber of work I've been doing) and if that doesn't work for them, I will be leaving my job September 1.

I'm terrified. I'm so scared that I'll wake up a month from now or six months from now and regret having made this decision. I haven't slept in days thinking about it. But I'm going to hold my breath and jump in to the uncharted waters and hope that I remember how to swim.

Writing It All Down

Every night I sit down at my computer and think of the great humor I read on other blogs and the funny mommy posts that I can relate to as a mom myself. I then look at the blank screen and want to write about those things but I just can't seem to get my fingers to follow suit (most of the time).

Not that I think there's anything wrong with writing funny life stories or scenarios that moms can relate to regarding our kids (I have those and write about them sometimes) but I just don't gravitate towards those things when I sit down to write.

What do I want to write about every night? About how women generally are more afraid to ask for a raise than men. About how we have to create entire new professional schedules and scenarios just to be able to be mothers and professionals at the same time. I want to write about how unfair it is that there are no "daddy wars." That men have the freedom to go to work every day without thinking about whether they should be working part-time or staying home with the children.

But that's not all. I also want to talk about the power we have as women and how important it is to recognize it and harness it. About how embracing your femininity and female qualities doesn't make you less qualified or less likely to succeed in the work force. I'd love to write about the strength and sacrifice it takes to give it all up and devote your life to your children (which frankly I have not done myself).

Those are the things I wish I could write about. But I'm too scared to be judged and misunderstood. So I just skirt around the issues and write about little thoughts here and there.

Maybe later, maybe sometime when I feel more free.

Hurray For Low Expectations

We spend so much of our energy trying to plan for the perfect event...weeks spent on vacation plans, days or even weeks spent on organizing the great dinner party, birthday party or celebration. But doesn't it seem like some of the best times are the ones that come together naturally in the spur of the moment? The times where you were expecting just the every day experience and through a series of surprising twists and turns what you got instead was exceptional moments of laughter, warmth and fun?

I think most of the difference in planned and unplanned moments of joy and fun is the expectation factor. Even if two events turn out exactly the same (which is hard to imagine but just for the sake of argument), the unexpected fun will always feel more enjoyable because you did not expect it. High expectations can damper even the most amazing moments.

It's like going to see a highly rated movie. You get so excited about seeing it and the more people talk about how great the movie is, the more you expect it to blow you away. That movie now has to work so much harder to please you than if you had gone to see it without those expectations.

Of course the best times are when your expectations are really high and the reality of the moment is even better than you dreamed. Those are the few precious ones we keep with us for a life time.

But those are far and few between. For the rest, I think it's best not to expect too much from each event, that way all the good stuff is a happy surprise.

Ready or Not...Here I Come!

Let me tell you how tired (or maybe just lazy) I get sometimes.

Today, I was playing hide and go seek with my three year old son and I did something that made me laugh but of which I'm not particularly proud of. When it was my turn to hide, I would choose a really hard to find but super comfortable place. That way, it would take him a while to find me and also give a few minutes to take a quick nap.

Is that terrible?

A Mother's Touch

When I was a little girl, one of my favorite things was when my mother would play with my hair. Just her touch would feel better than anything I knew in my life. I never forgot that feeling. As I grew up and moved away from home, I always yearned for it.

Later in life, during my visits home, I would seek an opportunity to lay my head in her lap hoping that she would just stroke my hair for a few minutes. Her touch still felt comforting in an indescribable way and would take me back to those moments in my childhood.

My mother never knew how powerful those touches were or how they comforted me like a warm blanket throughout my life.

Every time I think about those moments with my mother, it reminds me that the smallest gesture from me can mean a lifetime of sweet memories for my children.

So when I'm brushing their hair out of their eyes or rubbing their backs when they're not feeling well, I'll try to remember that even if they don't show it, they may take those moments into their adulthood as moments of love and comfort.

New Look

Hi ladies - How you like the new look? I just found the painting on the Internet and had to have it. I just loved it. It kind of reminded me of blogging. The self refection part. Also, I love the colors and her great outfit...

The Mirror
by Sir Frank Dicksee

Peek Into Anastasia

I promised to give you the answers to the questions from yesterday...and a few other items of random interest!

Are you tall, short or in between?

I'm a tall, not freakishly but with heals, I would be looking at the top of Tom Cruise's head. I've always been a little jealous of women that were short because somehow they seemed more feminine or "petite." They could also date any guy without ever feeling like they tower over them. My dating pool was always limited because of my height...being tall did have it's advantages though like being able to reach almost any shelf without help and never having to tailor my pants!

Do you prefer salty or sweet?

I'm a salty gal...I'll take a cheese and cracker snack any day over ice cream (I know, cheese is not technically salty but I love it SO much that I had to mention its superiority to ice cream!).

Do you wake with with the sound of little voices or an alarm?

I haven't used an alarm since I had kids...their sweet voices (a.k.a. cries, whines and screams) have woken me up for the last three years.

Lying on a white sandy beach or exploring an old city?

I'm just not a beach person...I don't like being hot and sweaty, I'm always trying to protect my skin from being burned or damaged and I can't stand the sand getting in every crevice of my body...so the beach is not exactly my ideal vacation! I love exploring old cities (and new ones!) like New York, San Francisco, Chicago, Paris, Rome..and everything in between!

Do you have great style or great humor, neither or both?

Oh, how I wish I had both of these things! My family is filled with great style but I am style-challenged...I'm all about comfort baby! Yup, just give me old jeans and a t-shirt or stretchy cotton workout cloths on a weekend and I'm happy!

Would you rather swim or run?

I'm a terrible runner...but love swimming. Although, as Kate from The Big Piece of Cake pointed out in the comments, if someone was chasing me, I guess I'd have to run!

Movies or dancing?

Oh to be young again and choose dancing! I haven't gone dancing in so many years that I can't even remember the last time so I'll have to pick movies (Netflix, I love you!).

Tell me more, tell more...like did he have a car!

Hi!

Thank you for dropping by
I love it that you're here
Your very presence makes me so very happy
I know you come sometimes to take a quick peek
I hope you like what you see
And maybe you'll leave a few words behind before you go
To tell me about yourself
Are you tall, short or in between?
Do you prefer salty or sweet?
Do you wake with with the sound of little voices or an alarm?
Lying on a white sandy beach or exploring an old city?
Do you have great style or great humor, neither or both?
Would you rather swim or run?
Movies or dancing?
Tell me, tell me, tell me...I'm dying to know!

Sunday Night Debates

Every Sunday night I'm a total schizo. Part of me feels sad that I wont be spending the day with the kids tomorrow and the other part is looking forward to going to the office and doing the professional person thing. Depending on the Sunday, one part or the other may dominate but it's never fully one way or the other.

Today was especially fun because of my backyard riviera. Did I tell you about it? Yes, I've created my own Italian riviera (much better than the French!) in my tiny backyard...with a pool (fantastic blue blow up pool), hors d'oeuves, music, chaise lounges under a expansive umbrella and drinks (it wouldn't be the riviera without drinks!). It was fun, fun, fun.

But now it's Sunday night. I've just put the kids to bed and have a few hours to think about my day tomorrow. I'm dreading it but also feel excited about it. I told you...total SCHIZO!!

I have a shorter work week than most because of my part time schedule so whenever I get really down on a Sunday night, I remind myself that in a few short days, I'll have the whole day with my beautiful children and time to do all the great house stuff that I have been meaning to do on my to do list.

And whenever I get giddy with excitement on Sunday, I remind myself that I still have a few precious days before I'll have the WHOLE day with my energetic and exhausting kids and time to do all the pain-in-the-butt stuff that I've put off on my never-ending to do list!

You see the reoccurring theme? SCHIZO!!

For now, I'm going to forget about Monday and try and enjoy the last few hours of my weekend by popping in a Netflix movie (thanks Netflix, you're the BEST!) and hopefully laugh my head off and forget all about my mental condition!

Newborn Amnesia

I held a newborn baby girl in my arms today. She was so small, delicate and beautiful.

The first time parents of the baby were standing in front of me looking tierd and worn. The husband, in particular, looked completely shell shocked. I felt so bad for him. Poor guy, he looked like he had just been hit in the face with a bat. Blood shot eyes, messy hair, and a look of total bewilderment on his face. Do you remember that time?

I can't remember it exactly...it's pretty much all hazy. I can't remember feeling that lost. Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm sure I was but I just don't remember it that well. As I was holding the baby, her mother asked me if my children were born with a full head of hair like her daughter. This is what I said, "yes, yes....ahhhhh, I think so....hmmm, maybe not. No no no, I'm pretty sure they were."

Isn't that weird? I just couldn't remember. I was pretty sure one of my sons was born with a full head of hair but I just couldn't remember if both of them were. Then I thought, what kind of a mother doesn't remember the way her babies were born?

Well, apparently this kind. There are a lot of things from those first few weeks that I just don't remember, and the parts that I do remember are kind of hazy and flow into each other like scenes from a movie...a scene here of feeding the baby in the middle of the night or a scene there with the baby sleeping in my arm but all the hard parts in between are mostly repressed.

I think it must be nature's way of ensuring that the human race goes forward because if we remembered all the moments of insanity and sleepless mania in their full glory, I don't know if anyone would have more than one child!

As I was holding that precious miracle of life and looking into her deep brown eyes, I wondered if I would ever do it again. Go through all those beginning moments again. I'm just don't know....what I do know is that I'll be sleeping through the night tonight and loving every minute of it!

Don't Lose Your Way

Sometimes it's hard to stay the course. I know that expression has been popularized by George Bush and has negative references for some people, but for my purposes it's the right one...to pursue a goal regardless of any obstacles or criticism.

As you might have seen from my blog description, I've decided to write every day for a year. But it's not just the frequency that's a challenge, it's the substance. My goal is to write pieces that are meaningful (to me anyway). They can be funny, serious, somber, trite, or even just silly as long as I stay true to my goal.

But even after such a short time, I've found myself giving in to temptation to alter myself and my writing. To be more of this or less of that so that I can somehow fit in better. I have started to try and smooth out my edges so that I can become a round peg in what I perceive as a world of round holes.

I think a lot of us at one time or another find ourselves trying to smooth out our edges. Those obstacles and criticisms along the way can shake even the strongest among us. But if we're lucky, someone or something comes along just at the right time with a kind gesture or surprising twist, which gives us the courage and strength to get back on track.

And we realize that the trick is not to make ourselves more like a round peg but instead to try and create square holes as we go along.

Girl Crush!

I have recently developed a girl crush...actually TWO girl crushes!! I can't help it. These women are just so sweet and lovely I can't help but have a big giant crush on them. The first is my friend from The Big Piece of Cake! We started our blogs at the same time (I love the name of her blog, it always makes me want cake!) and she's just blown me away with her support and her friendship. She's also so funny. Her posts even make my husband laugh, which is a feat since his idea of a good time is reading 500-page historical non-fiction. He especially liked her (actually her friend Kacy's) post about the letter to her hamster. I have to admit, that was crazy funny.

My second girl crush is on one my neighbors. She's just so awesome (I think I was 13 the last time I called some awesome!). She's also been so supportive and sweet AND she dragged me (god bless her) to a great community pool, which I'm now completely in love with. You know how much I love pools! Last time we went, I was giddy for the whole day just because I got to swim a few laps.

I hope they don't mind that I declared my crush for them to the whole world (or more like to the handful of wonderful readers of my blog).

Now that's I'm confessing my crushes, I might as well reveal my biggest celebrity girl crush! The beautiful food-loving, eating-with-her-hands, not-afraid-to-be a-real-woman's-size Nigella Lawson! Much like Mary from Eat, Drink, Be Mary (another great blog name!) I am a big fan of Nigella's style, her cooking and her way around the kitchen. She's funny, smart, sensual and she really really loves food! What's not to like about that?

Who's your girl crush?

The Path You Choose

Wow, reading last night’s post I realize how bitter I sound. I didn’t think I was bitter but maybe I am and this may be the reason why.

My husband just got the job of a lifetime. His dream job. And I’m so happy to for him. We’ve been working towards this opportunity for a long time and he finally got it! And I’m so proud of him. He deserves this and more.

But, it reminds me of what I have had to give up. My dream job. My once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. No one made me give it up. I wanted to. I wanted to be with my children, to be at home for my family and to be a good mother and wife. And I knew that I couldn’t be those things and also go after all the opportunities that the world could offer me.

Do I regret it? How could I regret being a mother to my two precious boys who give my life meaning and joy? How could I regret being a wife that is there to support and care for the husband she loves? How could I regret building a home for my family? No, I don’t regret it.

But part of me will always be a little sad that I can’t have it all. And maybe a little bitter that I can’t go after the brass ring with all I’ve got and fly through the air to whatever great destination that takes me.

I know I can’t. But maybe some women can. Maybe there are women out there that can go full force towards their professional goals and can also be the mothers and wives that they want to be. I envy them. I don’t judge them. Because I know that each woman has to make that decision for herself and live every day with the result of that decision: the decision that will change her life forever, the decision that takes her down one path but may close off a hundred other paths that she could have taken.

My decision has brought me here, to this exact moment where I can own both my joys and my sorrows. And to where I can make that decision again knowing that it is the right one for me.

When I Grow Up

When I was young, I thought I was destined for great things (I know, it's kind of a cliche). I didn't know what those things were but I just knew that I would do something spectacular and interesting one day. I would do that amazing thing that would satisfy me.

Well, that one day never came. But I told myself that I was young and I had a long time to make it happen. Maybe in a couple of years. But many years of school, several higher education diplomas, a few jobs, a good marriage and two children later, I still found myself still not satisfied (satisfied might be the wrong word...but you know what I mean!).

It's not that I'm not grateful for my life. I am. I love my family and I'm so lucky to be healthy and surrounded with love. But I just want something more. Is it wrong to want more? Did you ever think you'd do something spectacular when you grew up? And then suddenly realize one day that you are GROWN UP and you never took the step to do that something?

Well, I'm 37 and that's how I feel. That's one of the reasons I started this blog. I wanted to take one small step towards doing that something that was different and out-of-the-box! I wanted to reach outside of my safe, boring, professional world and do something creative, challenging and risky.

I still haven't taken the second or third step yet. So far, I just write every night about a thought or an idea. It's pretty far from doing something spectacular but it's a first small step and I'm happy with that. I finally started.

Big Baby News

Did you hear the big news? No, it's not that my lovely young neighbor just had her first child, a beautiful baby girl, or that the sweet woman in my playgroup had her second son last Thursday. No, that's not news, the BIG news is that Angelina Jolie had her twins! Oh yes, if you haven't heard already, let me tell you: the WORLD is abuzz with the news. And why shouldn't they be. A woman gave birth to twins! When does that ever happen. Oh yeah, all the time.

If you didn't sense it through the computer screen, let me spell it out. I'm a just a little bit bitter about the Angie hysteria. I mean really people, what is the BIG DEAL? OK, she's a movie star/UN spokeswoman/savior of all third world children/out-of-the-box mom and her "partner" is one of the Sexiest Men Alive (which I think is the stupidest title ever since People Magazine's pool of men is limited to a couple of dozen hot-right-now TV and movie actors like Nick Nolte, Mark Harmon and Ben Affleck).

Yes, they're famous, I get it, but what on earth is so special about their babies? And on what planet does it make sense that the pictures of these babies is worth over $10 Million dollars. Yes, you read it correctly. The first pictures of Knox and Vivienne (yeah, I know, it's silly that I already know their names) are going to be worth somewhere in that ballpark.

It's not that I think that Angie's children aren't special, I'm sure they are special to the people that know them and ARE RELATED TO THEM, I just think they are not more special than anyone else's children. And even though I understand that people might be curious to see pictures of the fruit of two beautiful loins, I don't understand the extreme extent of that curiosity.

I, for one, am way more excited about seeing pictures of my neighbor and my girlfriends' baby pictures!

Deep Breath

Sometimes after a crazy day of family mayhem, I look back at my behavior during the day and I hate what I see. I used to cringe at women that nagged their husbands all the time, whether in movies or in real life. I never understood why these women didn't see how petty and hurtful they seemed. That always bothered me. I got married late so I had many years of observing this behavior. It was something I always had in the back of my mind during my relationships. And when I met the man that I wanted to spend the rest my life with, I made a conscious decision to do what I could to not be that woman. That would never be me. I would never go there.

But, guess what? It happened. And I went there. Not at first, and not even after our first child but eventually it happened. When things get crazy and I'm frustrated, I nag and nag some more. There are chores to do, children to be dressed, fed, played with, taken to outings, the house needs repairs and on and on. I want it to all get done and so I nag. And then when I realize what I've been doing, I feel sad. Sad that I'm in any way hurting our precious time together as a family. So who's fault is that. Is it his for not anticipating what I think needs to get done? Or is it mine for not communicating my needs in a healthier way?

The truth is that it doesn't matter who's fault it is, what matters is that I don't want to be that woman. Not for one day or one hour or even one minute.

So even though I know that there will be times when I will nag my poor sweet husband (hopefully not many), I also know that in hurried times, I will try my best to take a deep breath, smile and realize that it will all get done somehow and we will do it together.

Every Day

Every day. I promised myself that I would write something every day for a year. What was I thinking? Zero to every day? At the time I didn't think about what that would mean or even what it would take to do it.

What if I can't think of anything to write (like tonight...as you might have guessed)? Then what? Isn't it better not to write anything than to write something silly or meaningless just so I can keep my promise? I guess it would be for some people but not for me. For me, it's either all or nothing. Either I do it every single day or I don't want to do it at all. I know it doesn't make sense but I'm kind of nutty that way.

I'm like that with other things too. I don't do things half way, which isn't always good. With food, friendship, love, work, everything....if you're going to do it or have it, then jump in and DO IT or HAVE IT, don't just take a little off the edges.

I hope I can make it for an entire year...and I hope you'll stay with me for the journey.

Girl Talk

I waited a long LONG time (my brother's speech at my rehearsal dinner had even a few more "long"s) to get married. And not by choice. I just didn't find anyone that I could even imagine spending the next six months with, let along the rest of my life! So when I did finally meet him, I wanted to spend most of my free time with him.

When my girlfriends talked about having a girls weekend, I didn't want to participate. I had had so many years of girls weekend, girls night outs and everything in between. I didn't want time away from my husband. I missed him even if we were apart for a few hours. He was my favorite person to hang out with and I just couldn't get enough time with him. We both worked full time and the hours of free time we had were so precious.

You may be wondering why I'm talking in the past tense. Has something terrible happened that has changed my mind about him? Has our bond weakened? Am I sick of him already?

The answer is no. I still love spending time with him and he's still my favorite person to be with but now we have children! Two boys to be exact. And their arrival has changed things. Our time is no longer just the two of us doing whatever we want, it's all about the children. And even though they are the love of our lives and bring us incredible joy, I just sometimes want to get away, if only for a few hours. Sometimes, I just want to have a few hours of fun girl talk (with two boys and a guys guy kind of husband there isn't much girl talk in our house)!

So now, if my friends want to do a girls night, I say yes without too much hesitation. And if there is a chance for a girls weekend, I'm all over it (even with the guilt of leaving my husband with two small boys)!!

Don't get me wrong, I still prefer a date night with my husband to most other outings but there's nothing like a good old fashion girls night out!

The Right Thing

A few weeks ago, during our nightly call, my mother and I started discussing a topic that we’ve debated before and can never agree on.

“It’s the right thing to do,” I said firmly. “The boys need me!”
“They already have you,” she pleaded. “They don’t need you every minute of every day. You have a great career where you’re respected and valued. Don’t give that up.” Then she said with a sigh, “I would have loved to do something with my life.”

My parents left their country in the middle of a revolution and came here to give their children a better life. Raising me and my two brothers in a foreign land wasn’t always easy for my mother but she never let it show. While my father went to work during the day, she stayed home to take care of us. A home that was a million miles away from everything and everyone she knew. But that didn’t stop her from putting her heart and soul into creating a loving home for us.

Every day after school, I would sit at the kitchen table and tell her my tales of junior high hardship. And I had a lot of them, being the new foreign kid in school. She would listen to me while she was preparing dinner or folding the laundry and comfort me in the best way she knew how. She would tell me how lucky I was to have a good family and remind me that I should be thankful for that, instead of seeking the approval of my classmates.

Or course, at the time, I didn’t see it that way. All I saw was that my mother didn’t understand me. I wanted desperately to fit in with the other kids. “Why can’t I go?” I would say with pre-teen angst, “everyone goes to sleepovers here, it’s NO BIG DEAL!” But she was adamant. “No sleepovers,” she would say in her heavily accented English. No boys calling the house. No TV in my room. No make-up.

I was angry a lot during those early teenage years but every day after school I would still tell her my tales and she would still listen.

I had no idea that while I was going through my life-is-so-unfair mini dramas, my mother was dealing with her own obstacles: learning a new culture, a new language, and a new way of life. Despite these hurdles, she powered through -- raising three healthy well-adjusted children.

Through those first few tough years of transition, she kept the family together, the house clean, the cloths pressed, our lives organized and had an amazing meal on the table every day. I never thought about how all that got done or if it was hard for her. I didn’t understand what it took to be a stay-at-home mom. That is until I had my own children.

To her, I’m doing it all, working and taking care of my family. But I have it so easy compared to her. She doesn’t know how much I admire her strength and the way she made it look so easy. The way she sacrificed for us every single day. They way she loved us even when we didn’t deserve that love. And the way she was there whenever we needed her. How could I express in words how much that really meant?

“You’re wrong mom,” I finally said “you did do something. You did something amazing. You were there for me and that meant everything.”

Is He Mad At Me?

My boss snapped at me today. I hate when he does that. It makes me hate being at a job that I actually really enjoy. Just those two or three seconds of disrespect can wash away years of great communication and camaraderie. Maybe a less sensitive person can just brush it aside. But I can't. For me, those few seconds stay in my mind and slowly build into rage. That is, if I don't do something about it right away.

I waited about an hour or so and went into his office. I said something light to start a dialogue. He laughed and engaged. Then I just blurted out, "is everything OK between us?" Fortunately, he's used to this kind of question because over the years of working together I've made us "talk it out" any time I've sensed tension or conflict. I know, I'm SUCH a woman (and I mean that in the best possible way)! He assured me that everything was OK and that things with work were just crazy right now. Then I asked him about his daughter, who'd had surgery just a few days ago, and he said softly, "oh, she's fine, thanks. I haven't really seen her in the last few day but I'm going to try and leave early tonight."

My heart sank. I felt so bad for him and his daughter (and guilty for being so mad about a silly thing like a two second gesture). As I'm worrying about my hurt feelings, he's worrying about his little girl who's recuperating from surgery and who he hasn't even been able to see for the last three days because of work. I ended our conversation with another light note about work and how he should definitely leave early.

Perspective. Once you have it, the world looks completely different.

Piano Fingers

“Read the book!" "Read the BOOK!" My son keeps asking me in his very loud outside voice. As he's asking me, he's also poking me with the book. After having spent most of the day running errands, picking up after the kids, making multiple meals and squeezing in some work, I should be ready to spend some quality time with my son. But I'm not. I'm just tired. "Not now, sweetie," I say softly with a hint of frustration, "maybe later." My eyelids feel heavy and all I want to do is just lie down on my bed.

"Read me a book mommy!" He says again. They don't give up do they? I look over at him ready to say no but he's looking straight at me with his big brown eyes waiting for my response. I freeze for what seems like minutes but is only a few seconds. Then I snap out of my semi-coma and realize that my SON is asking me to read him a book and I should listen to him. So, I take a deep breath, sit down on the floor next to him and say "OK, sweetie, why don't you jump into my lap and give me the book." His face lights up and he comes tumbling towards me.

As I read the book to him (the same book I've read to him at least 100 times) I can feel him relaxing into my arms and resting the back of his head against my chin. He is concentrating on the book with singular focus. All of a sudden, as I'm reading the story, I feel his little fingers tapping against my knee as if he's playing the piano.

For a split second, I stop reading and concentrate on his fingers. The pause is too short for him to notice. I continue reading, but now most of my focus is on his little fingers and the delicate way they are connecting with my knee. With each word, the frustration and fatigue melt away and I feel the kind of pure joy only your child can give you. Without realizing it, I'm smiling as I read the end of the story. I don't want it to end. I want him to keep tapping my knee with his little soft fingers.

"Read it again mommy!" He says. "Of course, sweetie. Let's read it again."

Hail to the Queen of All Cakes

I’m not a big cake person but I just LOVE wedding cakes. They are so much more than just flour, sugar and butter (and whatever else goes into making a cake…I’m SO baking challenged). They are the Queen of all cakes! They are regal towers of joy, fun and hope. So grand are their stature that it takes several people just to carry them, like Egyptian royalty, into a room. And then they are placed in the center of one of the most precious (well, hopefully one of the most precious…) days of our lives.

All the guests “ohhh” and “ahhh” over them and don’t dare leave the celebration until they are ceremoniously cut, shared and devoured. The cutting ritual is one of the highlights of the event with the guests forming a tight love circle around the cake as the couple jointly brings up the chosen first piece. Lights flash all around as the wedding paparazzi try to get the perfect shot. Once the first piece has been shared between the two stars, the rest of the cake is cut for the crowd but not before the crown is carefully whisked away where it is lovingly preserved for one year until the couple can again celebrate and taste its sweetness.

You can tell a lot about a couple (or the bride to be more precise) from a wedding cake. Is she sweet and understated like a simple white butter cream cake or is she decadent and larger than life like a six tiered chocolate cake with ten thousand red roses (OK, maybe not TEN thousand, but you get what I’m saying). What I love is that both extremes and everything in between are GREAT! It’s a cake for goodness sake…how can it be anything but fun!

So, in honor of the Queen of all cakes, I have decided not only to share the picture of my wedding cake with you but also to ask for a picture of yours in return. Don’t be shy; send them to me at anastasiaspeaks@hotmail.com. I’ll display them with pride on my blog right in the middle of this post (don’t worry; I won’t list your name with your cake, unless you want me to, in which case I’d be thrilled to do it!).

All hail the Queen.

Christy Casimiro's Wedding Cake!

The Penny Has Got To GO

Have you heard the debate about the penny? If not, take a look here. The penny is costing us billions of dollars a year in lost time and funds. We (the U.S. Mint) have been making the penny at a loss for the past two years (it currently costs 1.7 cents to make one cent) and it's only going to get more expensive from here as the price of metals keeps rising. But apparently, there are still millions of people that want to keep the penny. For the life of me, I don't understand why...and before you start thinking of all the reason (more like myths) for not getting rid of the penny (ex. if we didn't have it prices would be rounded up) please take a look at this.

If you look at the facts, getting rid of the penny makes sense. It is the rational thing to do. So why aren't we doing it? It's mostly because the majority of people still want it and I suspect that the reason isn't because they love Lincoln and the thought of getting rid of the penny would somehow insult his memory, or that it's a national institution (or coin) so we should keep it. No, I'm pretty sure that it's because people just don't like CHANGE (sorry for the pun!). Most people love the status quo. They get nervous at the very idea of change, even if intellectually they know that the change is for the better.

So why am I writing about the penny and getting rid of it? Because it drives me nuts to keep doing something that doesn't make any sense. It drives me nuts that Congress doesn't do the right thing (surprise, surprise!). It makes me crazy that people are willing to embrace a symbol when all rational indications are that it is of no use anymore.

It makes me want to shout...CHANGE IS GOOD (that is change that is not a penny!). Embrace change people! In fact, demand it!

Now I'm not saying that all change is good but when you've done all the research and the facts are on your side, you have to take fear out of the equation and just say yes to progress!

Security Hoe

Remember all those Hollywood movies where the cute toddler is carrying around their favorite "blankie" or teddy? That one item that made them feel safe and loved, the item that mom couldn't leave home without because her little precious bundle of joy was so attached to it. The toddler would hug it tight, kiss it or drag it behind him as he walked down the street holding mommy's hand. It was such a picture perfect image, the baby holding the raggedy bear or dogie or worn out blanket tight against his chubby cheek as he fell asleep in his crib like an angel. Ahhh, isn't that adorable...

Well guess what, my reality didn't mirror the movies. No, my son never fell in love with any adorable stuffed animal or blanket. No, my son fell in love with a HOE! Yup, a BIG RED PLASTIC HOE (which is usually dirty because he actually uses it as a hoe in the yard). And now, when I go to any kind of event or gathering, I need to take the hoe with me because it's my son's security HOE (notice his death grip on the hoe in the picture)! And when my little chubby cheeked angel falls asleep in his crib, he's hugging a three foot long HOE.

It's more funny than embarrassing but sometimes when I'm trying to put him in the car or going around a tight turn in the stroller the hoe can present a slight logistical problem. And I can just imagine how interesting it's going to make going through airport security ("no it's not a threat to national security, it's my son's security HOE")!

But, I've learned to love the hoe because it makes my son happy and it reminds me that, like most things in my life, reality is a lot stranger, funnier and more interesting than fiction!

Don't Touch!

I'm SO embarrassed. I can't believe I touched her so many times. When I get nervous and excited I do the craziest things. And then when I have a moment of reflection I become mortified (usually within minutes). When I'm doing it, it feels so fun, natural, friendly...but when I look back at it, I can see how it's just awkward. Oh God, why am I so NUTS! She must think I'm so weird. I can see her right now telling her husband about it "sweetie, did I tell you about the strange woman in the park today that kept touching me?"

OK, let me explain. I went to a neighborhood picnic today for the July 4th holiday. I've dragged my family to these every year and regretted it every single time. I always think it will be fun for the kids...parade, hot dogs, ice cream, lots of kids...what could be better? But it's usually seriously hot and sticky, crazy crowded (the kind where you're saying "excuse me" a thousand times as you try to find a tiny patch of grass to call your own) and you can't see anyone you remotely recognize. My husband hesitated when I suggested we go but I told him this year would be different. You see, this year, I was asked by one of the women in the neighborhood to participate in a "cake walk." I didn't care what that mean, I was just happy to be part of a neighborhood event. I did as I was told and brought a cake. It turned out that the cake walk was a lot of fun and the picnic was actually fun too. We all gathered around a table set up in the basketball courts and played a game of "musical numbers" to see who got who's cake (the only down side was that I was one of the few moms that didn't actually MAKE a cake...yup, I went straight to Whole Foods and bought one...what can I tell you, I'm just not a cake making kinda gal, I'm happy to make a big meal any day of the week but cakes I don't do).

So when did all the touching happen you might ask. It was during this cake event that I started my overly friendly woman-handling. We were all gathered around the cakes talking about the rules of the game and I just felt so happy and included. I know it's silly, I'm a grown woman, married with kids, an established career, a wonderful home and great friends but I still sometimes yearn to just feel "included." Is that terrible? At that moment, I felt included and happy and kind of giddy (the kind that erases my appropriate behavior monitor). So as we were talking about the cakes, one of the most "established" neighborhood women started talking about how her cake didn't look so good. So I started assuring her that her cake looked great and probably tasted even better and in doing so I felt the need (oh, how I wish I could take it back now) to touch this woman over and over again...on her arm, her back, her shoulder...like we were life long friends from Italy where touching is just part of our culture! Yikes. She's as far from Italian as you can get AND we barely know each other! The pièce de résistance was when I grabbed both her hands in mine and said something like "don't worry, your cake is going to be huge hit!" While I'm saying this, I've graduated from her hands to actually HOLDING HER ARMS...this woman I've said 10 words to in my entire life! What happened after that is kind of a blur, lots of moms, lots of kids, music, numbers, cake...and we're done.

While walking home, I kept replaying it in my mind. Was it really as bad as I think it was? Probably not. It could have been worse, I could have given her a giant hug and said "you like me, you really really LIKE me!"