Momma IS a Grill Master

My husband is away for the weekend camping with our daughter and it has come to my attention that my boys do not think I know how to start our grill. This all came about when for dinner my 8 year old son declared that he would like to have hot dogs but not the microwave kind (yes--we are big fans of microwaving a Ballpark turkey frank) the grilled kind. I told him that sounded like a great idea to which he replied "Do you know how to use the grill and make a fire?"

I realized, when my other son saw me head outside with matches and with a shocked look on his face asked, "Wow, you know how to light a fire?" "Don't you need daddy to do that?" that I needed to nip this whole notion of gender related jobs in the bud. "Of course, I do, mommies know how to use the grill," I replied. If I had it my way I would have just nuked that wiener, but now I had a point to prove--yes mommies can grill! So out I went with my grilling accoutrements in hand ready to make the best tasting most perfectly grilled hot dogs my boys had ever tasted. And I did--or so I like to think.

This whole little incident reminded me that we need to be careful not to fall into stereotypical roles in front of our kids. The dad who grills, the mom who cleans, etc. We need to make sure that as parents, our children see us taking part in everyday tasks and not always the same ones. Hmmm, this makes me wonder, would they ask their dad "Do you know how to use the washing machine?" when/if they saw him with a laundry basket under his arm. Actually, I think that is a question that would be on all of our lips.

Spelling Bee-- Not for Me

I just caught the last 30 minutes of the Scripps National Spelling Bee and oh my do I feel dumb. My son wanted to tape the show because a student from his middle school had made it to the finals--congratulations Ramya! I wasn't really paying attention until the last few rounds and all I can say is who the heck uses or knows any of these words? Wisent, diacoele, guayabera, reredos, sophrosyne, good grief! As I type all of these spelling words, they are underlined as if they are misspelled. They don't even show up on spellcheck. I did get one word right and it was even a championship word--menhir. It has something to do with a monolith of prehistoric origin--whatever that means.

Changing of the Guard - Tri-Graduates

It began over 17 years ago, when the new guard took hold and my life was changed for the better. In six years I had three daughters, a miscarriage in-between my second and third. At the time, we didn't think about the spacing once they started school, but fast forward to the present and we will have three graduations in the span of 24 hours.

My 17-year old will graduate from high school, my 14-year old from middle school, and my 11-year old from elementary school. What a major milestone this year is for each of them. And this is one HUGE leap for me. It marks the beginning of the empty nest, when one will soon fly away to college and live in a dorm, one bedroom becomes quieter, for a while anyway. It doesn't quite become a spare room, not until another 4 or 5 years from now.

And why does it seem like time flies so swiftly? During what I call "Baby Boot Camp", those first two months at home with a new born, those days seemed to go on forever because of lack of sleep and being in completely new territory. But now I see how precious and fleeting those moments were. How I treasure the smell of a newborn, cradling their tiny body in the crook of one arm. That baby's arm is now longer and leaner than mine. My oldest used to be this tiny little girl who was always the shortest in every line at school. Amazingly, she is now taller than me and thinks she's smarter than me! My middle daughter was always the one I worried about because she seemed shy and tentative. I nearly cried on that first day of kindergarten, seeing how she was holding back her tears when we left. But she surprised us all by announcing she made a new friend on her first day and ever since she's been able to warm people over and make lots of friends because of her humor and easy-going nature. And my youngest, she's what we've tagged our miracle baby. I had a difficult labor with my second, and the doctor didn't know if we should go for a third. But we did, and within 8 weeks of being pregnant I suffered a miscarriage. That made me realize how much I did want another baby, and three months after miscarrying, we were pregnant with our miracle girl. She's turned out to be such a delight, our ray of sun. And she made our family complete.

To look back is too emotional at times. I'm so proud of how they have turned out. But each journey was not without some difficult moments. Which makes the present even more gratifying.

In a few weeks, my babies will begin a new journey - their friends are already more influential in many ways than we are as parents now. But my children know we'll always be here for them. Because we never graduate as parents, we only hope we become wiser.

Bamboo--Who Knew?

My sweet husband gave me a very thoughtful present for Mother's Day this year. It wasn't something sparkly or shiny (that would have been good too) and it didn't come in a robin's egg blue box (would not have turned my nose up to this either). Instead, he gave me bamboo sheets.

Bamboo sheets? Yep, soft, cool, lovely, ecru bamboo sheets. Now I know that this may sound like an odd gift, but for me they were perfect. Let's just say that I'm a bed sweatter. And my husband, while reading a recent issue of Real Simple, found the ideal solution to my "little issue".

I'm of the ahem age, where night sweats are a part of my slumberland. At first I thought it was the new Tempurpedic bed that was making me feel like I just stepped out of a sauna each morning. But when my husband woke up well rested and dry I knew it wasn't so. The writing was on the wall--I've embarked on life's next journey (mind you, I'm in the very, very, very, early stages).

Anyway, back to me singing the praises of these sheets. Who knew that rods of bamboo could be spun into such a wonderful, luxurious fiber? They feel like a cross between silk and cashmere. They are naturally hypoallergenic and bacteria resistant. And now I can tout that I'm going green because they are a renewable and sustainable resource that does not require deforestation. Oh, and let's not forget they are vegan/animal friendly (no animals are harmed in harvesting bamboo). PETA people--this is your kind of sheets!

As far as cost goes, they are not too expensive. They cost the same as your better quality, high thread count cotton sheets. I've spent a pretty penny on Egyptian cotton sheets and these are equally as nice. I gotta say, these moisture wicking, organic sheets are keeping my nights cool and dry and are worth every penny!

If you want to go bamboo, check out Bed, Bath & Beyond or various online stores. Mark my words, you'll never look back. And if you are not ready to try them just yet, I bet someday you will. The day you wake up and feel like you just ran a 10K will have you racing to the store!

Our First Big Break

Well it really wasn't a big break, more like a small, teeny, tiny fracture. Yes, my oldest son is proudly sporting a red cast. How did it happen? A little game of lunch time tag, gone awry. I received a call from the school that he was in the office and upset, so I headed over to pick him up (after checking out of Safeway and dropping off my groceries at home).

When I got there, he seemed fine but in some pain. I decided to take him to the doctor to get it checked out--just to be safe. After being x-rayed and examined, I was surprised to hear that he would need a cast. I think the doctor thought I might be one of those no vaccinations types, when I said "Are you sure this is necessary?" From the x-ray, the "fracture" was not at all obvious. It looked like a tiny little ding--like a small chip on a tooth.

Anyway, he got the cast and boy was he thrilled. On the way home from the doctor he called his good friend, grandmother and dad to let them know the exciting news. I think he loves the fact that he is the first in our family to ever have a cast. His siblings were definitely impressed.

S. is truly enjoying the novelty of his injury and the benefits. No P.E., limited baths, awe from his siblings, and the thrill of telling the "how it happened" story. He's even going to school with a sharpie in his backpack collecting signatures. Who knew that some plaster and tape could make a kid so happy?

I'm just thankful that it wasn't more serious or painful. He's fortunate that he didn't break anything. All and all, if you have to go through the experience of your child needing a cast--we got a pretty good break.

Lost but Found

This week I took my dog for a walk around the neighborhood and unfortunately lost my cell phone. I usually have it on me in case I get a call from the school (which of course only happens when I don't have with me). I was busy chatting with my husband and when we were done, I just shoved it in my pocket. As I switched having a phone glued to my ear for an Ipod, I took in the scent of some lovely smelling bushes (which ended up giving me a starting point for my phone search later on).

Anyway, after two blocks I realized it was missing. I quickly ran back to the sweet smelling bushes and retraced my steps and frantically searched for my phone. When I didn't find it, I raced back home to call my number hoping that whoever found it would answer, but again no luck. My friend suggested we go to the scene and dial my number in case it fell in the bushes. So off we went, walking up and down the street hoping to hear my Calypso ringtone. I was SOL.

So now I was convinced a ne're do well had found my phone. I thought if a good citizen had found it, they would have answered the phone after hearing it ring 10 times in a row. Feeling annoyed and perturbed with myself (I only had this phone for 2 months--why did I stick it in such a shallow pocket??), I went home and put my phone line on suspension. By mid-afternoon I had written the thing off and was ready to get a new one (maybe a Google Phone).

But then, guess what happened? I got a call from TMobile telling me that my phone had been found and was turned in to the local sheriff's office! I couldn't believe it. A good samaritan came through for me. Karma was on my side! I am so thankful to have it back--all my contacts, emails, voice messages. To whoever it was that found it and didn't leave their name---thank you, thank you, thank you (not that I really think you'll be reading this blog)!

The moral to this story is, don't lose faith in your neighbors, put an address label on the back of your phone, if you don't want anyone looking at your emails or contact numbers-- a password on your phone might be a good idea and last but not least chat with the hubby AFTER you walk the dog!



Now that I have

Battle of the Green Lagoon!

I grew up in the Midwest with a pool. It was great spending the 3 months we had of warm, humid summers floating around carelessly in it's sparkling waters. I have great memories of swimming parties, learning how to do backflips, and swimming until my fingers and toes were wrinkled like a prune. So when my husband and I decided to leave The City for the burbs, one of the things we wanted as we searched for a home, was a pool. We figured we were finally leaving the fog and now would experience warm California living and what better way to do so than with a backyard pool? We traded our 1909 Edwardian for a circa 60's home (which I lovingly call my Brady house) and yes, it came with a much desired backyard pool. The one thing we didn't realize was how much maintenance and money is involved in having this liquid amenity. Take it from me, keeping a pool crystal clear is no easy feat--it is amazing how quickly it can turn on you.

I naively thought caring for our pool would be easy--after all I know how to backwash, vacuum, and check the chlorine levels. When my neighbor suggested the name of their pool service, I scoffed at the idea. I was surprised that people would actually pay others to care for their pool! I thought having a gardener seemed extravagant (which I now embrace), but hiring someone to dump chlorine in your pool and clean out the leaves for you once a week seemed over the top. That is until now--as we embark on our 5th summer in Sunny Suburbia and my pool looks like a swamp.

It never fails, our lovely pool goes from tranquil, aqua blue to emerald, murky green several times each season. You'd think we would have learned our lesson by now and not leave the solar cover on for weeks at a time, but the idea of warming it up to a near bath like temperature seems to take over our rational thinking. Our kids don't care, as long as it is warm they'd swim in it regardless of the color.

I'm ready to throw in the towel and hire a pool service, but my husband says "no way!" I think he likes to battle the algae--to conquer this aquatic creature. He doesn't seem to mind spending an afternoon scrubbing the filter, brushing down the sides of the pool and tossing gallons of chlorine into the water (usually ruining a pair of shorts or t-shirt). He likes waking up each morning to see what shade the pool has turned and assess whether or not it is headed in the right direction.

I, on the other hand, am ready to leave it to the "experts." I feel that every time the pool turns on us, it takes a week to get it back to swimmable conditions. This adds up. On average we end up with 3-4 algae blooms, eating up nearly a month of prime swimming (and buckets of chlorine)! My lazy days of summer are few and far between and wasting time on pool maintenance is the last thing I want to do.

I guess we will see how this summer goes. If the guys at Leslie's start to recognize me, I'm going to try and convince my husband it is time to retire his pool brush. If, on the other hand, we are able to manage the waters, I won't try and finagle a "pool boy" into our budget. I'll just stick with the one I've got.

Happy Mother's Day!

Happy Mother's Day to all of you wonderful moms! I wanted to post a poignant Mother's Day poem or sonnet and couldn't find anything that felt right. Then I looked on my window sill and saw the sweet poem my 4th grade daughter wrote for me for Mother's Day. It really touched me (she called me her best friend!). Anyway, I thought I'd share it, as many of her words I'm sure describe you too!

My mother
Tall, sweet
Great cook
Friendly, loveable
Daddy's wife
Smart, protective
Clean mom
Great mother
Best friend

My Laundry Test

As a mother I'm hesitant to report the result of my secret test of name-brand, fresh scented laundry detergent vs. economical, "guess-that-scent" detergent. My friend just recently purchased a new front-loading clothes washer, which requires "High Energy" detergent. She had just purchased a brand new bottle of regular Tied but her uncooperative top loader went kaput during a laundry marathon. This gave her the chance to upgrade her washing machine to the newer front-loading technology. Therefore she offered this "liquid gold" to me. She explained in incredible, vivid detail how she loves to don that newly washed shirt and take in the aroma of freshly washed clothes. She splurges on this brand of detergent because it really makes a difference to her. It gives her that "ahhhh" for the day. I was in a dizzy trance as she described this to me, it took me to another world next to planet Calgon, where colors are brighter and the aroma of flowers and springtime surrounded me. I nearly cried thinking I had never experienced that, and wondered what I'd been depriving myself of all these years. I had to experience this clean world. I always went for the $3.99 brand with 40% more. What was I thinking? I never looked at the name brands, I figured they were all the same, right? They all wash clothes, how different could they be. Do they really make your whites whiter, your blues bluer? Does it really smell better? And do they really oxyclean? Ever since I had kids, laundry was all about saving money on the tons of detergent you go through since it seems that's all you do when there are 3 children and a smelly husband in the house. I never dreamed there could be more to it!

As you can imagine, I was quite excited to try this new detergent, especially the way my friend described the experience. I was heartbroken to realize how much I'd forsaken my family of this clean sensation all these years.

So I decided I'd take this new detergent and test my family. Would they realize we had a new detergent? Would they exclaim, "Mom, what's different, why are my whites so white, and my blues so blue? What smells so good?" I could not wait for their reaction and wondered who would be the first to notice. Would it be my husband after showering from a sweaty run? After he donned his newly washed t-shirt would he come and swoop me off my feet and thank me for the way his clothes smelled and how I got that grass stain out? Would it be my youngest daughter who would run in and exclaim - "Mom, the 2-year old chocolate stain is now magically gone?"

Well, I waited. And waited. And then I nearly forgot that I tried this new detergent because it did not generate one single reaction. Was there something wrong with our olfactory? Well, I just don't understand it. How could my family not notice the difference? I guess my consolation is I saved a total of $1000 in 17 years by purchasing my no-name, guess-that-scent detergent all these years. Hey, that's enough to purchase a new front loading washing machine. I'll think I'll try that test next. Because I have to experience to that fresh laundry world!

On Aging Gracefully

I made the realization recently that in my mind, my life is compartmentalized like rooms in a house. There's my childhood room, my teenager room, my college room. That sort of thing. I was recently ruminating in my closet looking at high heels and make-up I no longer wear, like it was another life. I've named that period of time my power suit room. I rarely go in that room anymore. These days I wear Crocs (the ugliest but most comfortable shoes I've ever owned), my fluffy slippers or flip flops wherever I go. Or a pair of LL Bean Mocs. I can't even remember the last time I donned a pair of "FM" stiletto, red-hot, Jimmy Choos. My A-line skirts, silk blouses and power suits have given way to elastic banded yoga pants (my fav pick 6 days of the week) and comfy sweaters. What happened to that other person who dressed up for work, glossed on lipstick, curled and crimped her hair, and got weekly manicures? I'll tell you where - I moved to the family room, which includes a van, a messy house complete with 3 children, a hard-working husband and a golden retriever who sheds.

The clothes one wears tells alot about a person and that person's "state-of-time". When I remember those days of high heels, silk blouses and power suits, it was during my single-and-working era. Trying to impress, show glamour, and be noticed. Now, now that I am married, have experienced the executive job and am less focused on me, I tend to wear what's comfortable, go sans makeup, and am outwardly focused. And I noticed I'm happier this way. Because I'm happier on the inside. Now let's not picture this inaccurately, I'm not a slob, but if I were a room makeover, let's say I'd be more on the shabby chic side than the Ethan Allen or Thomasville. And I do glam it up when it's a special occasion. And it feels great to glam it up. But it's freeing to me to be less concerned about outward appearance.

I have wondered how everyone would appear if we suddently stopped dying our hair and went without makeup? Au naturale. Would it be scary? Or would it be refreshing and liberating? When we were kids we didn't seem to care. Why do we try to stop the aging process, are we afraid to enter that bleak, old-folks room?

I think it's because when we turn 40 or 50, we can't see ourselves getting old. We can't picture ourselves becoming our parents, let alone our grandparents with graying hair, deep wrinkles and unable to hold our gas. In our minds we are always 18. Now that I'm in my (yikes) 50s, I wonder when will I shrivel up and become a prune. I used to wonder if I would fight going into that final room where I may never leave my bed. Well, I've just made a decision. After going through all my rooms in my mind, I decided my final room is going to be my Living Room. I'm going to live until I die, whether I have gray hair or no hair at all. Wrinkles and all, I'm going to make my last room my most memorable. And without any major remodeling but maybe just a paint job.

They Like Me, They Really Do Like Me!

My husband and twin boys are off on a one night camping trip, so I am home with my two older children. It is eerily quiet around here. No wrestling, no whining, no running around and getting the dog all hyped up. I miss those little monkeys.

Anyway, I thought I should use this time to do something special with my two older kids. I thought this could be our chance to bond. To catch up on the latest news and happenings in my 9 year old and 11 year olds lives. I thought they'd be excited to do something special with me too, but no--you know what they wanted? Sleepovers! Just when I'm down to two kids! Not to be mean, but having friends come for a sleepover was the last thing I wanted to do.

So I tried to gently explain that this was our chance to have a big kids night out. That we could go to dinner and do a little shopping (I knew my son was wanting/needing some new shoes). Chevy's, Red Robins, Johnny Rockets, they could have their pick. The words "dinner" and "shopping" seemed to do the trick. I had them melting in the palm of my hand. And then I realized, I was bribing them to hang out with me. I flashed forward 4 years and saw myself trying to lure them into spending time with me with this same bait but having a different outcome. Oh please tell me this nightmare won't come true!

Anyway, we went to dinner (Chevy's) and hit the mall and found some new kicks for us all. Who knew shoe shopping with a 9 year old and 11 year old could be so much fun? They were so cute--helping each other pick out shoes. They even had suggestions for me. We then stopped at Old Navy and ran up the charge card even more.

We hurried home to watch Timmy Turner Wishology--not too bad. But the best part was we ended up having a sleepover in my room--cuddled up watching Nim's Island. And you know what, I didn't even have to bribe them on that one. They like me! They really do like me!