To all the mothers out there

After just finishing a novel, I like to take some time thinking about it and how it made me feel or how I felt about the characters or the story itself. I just put a book down about thirty minutes ago. It had a happy ending and it made me shed some tears (ok, maybe buckets). Which is a good thing. I like a good cry sometimes. I like crying about fictional lives of fictional characters. I like crying and cheering for these protagonists who go through a gambit of emotions while I live vicariously and concurrently through them. But then again, who doesn't love to read and immerse themselves in another life/world for a little while? I am not unique in this in any way. I am not so special in this regard.

I am feeling quite introspective at the moment as I sit here on the twentieth floor of our high rise,  leisurely gazing at fluffy white clouds traversing freely across the vibrant blue sky on this Sunday, on Mother's Day. I think about how mothers are special. How mothers are so loved and held on high, on a pedestal for most. And how mothers are unique. We are a separate species of women regardless of culture, language and dress who have a singular and universal commonality in Motherhood.

So, I am in fact unique and special in this regard.

I am a mother. Life begins with us. We are the nurturers, the caregivers, the doting ones, the extra-hugs and kisses givers, the soft and nice smelling sort, the kind-hearted gentle souls who do it all, remarkably, no matter the aching-sick-with-flu-that-just-can't-get-up-but-must-body or sleep-deprived-I-am-dragging-today-body or I-need-just-a-few-minutes-break-body or shut-the-bathroom-door-I-need-privacy-shriek-body or let-me-add-one-more-item-on-my-long-long-to-do-list-body. We take it on and we do what we must and we do it all.

So, today, is my day and yours (to all the mothers out there). We are Unique. We are Special. We take it on and DO IT ALL!

A fine birthday it was

Happy birthday to my David whom I have known and loved for over half my life. It has been nine years since he last celebrated his birthday with loved ones (other than me).  His last big birthday bash was his surprise 30th party in our Oxnard, CA home when family and friends gathered from near and far to celebrate. Being back in SF affords him (and us) the opportunity to be just a hop, skip, and a jump away from family and friends, instead of the usual to-do with four hour flights and planned visits months in advance. This newly rediscovered close proximity to family feels almost foreign though, as we had been on our "own" for so long in the Midwest. So, when the opportunity arose to go "home" again, it was the right decision for us. The kids will finally have aunts, uncles, grandmas, grandpas, and even cousins who can go to their Saturday T-Ball game or ballet recital. Gone are the days when Dave and I were the ones showing up to "Grandparent's Day" at school.

So today, I wish you, David, a truly awesome birthday! Remember though, only one more year to the big 40! Unfortunately, I will get there three weeks before you! Boo-hoo!

Birthday lunch and birthday smiles

More smiles

Ferry Plaza Seafood in Ferry Building Marketplace

Dave really has parents!

Dan & Betty in SF? Unbelievable!

Picture perfect family!

Ending a perfect birthday with Grandpa Jack and Jason.

Welcome home and Happy Birthday!

Sometimes its black and white

Out and about

A few jaunts around this great city with two willing adventurers...

Be free, run ahead but stop at the end of the street (or driveways)!

On Jackson Street, about 4 blocks from the apartment. Note the Transamerica Pyramid building in the background (SF's tallest and most recognizable skyscraper in the city's skyline).

Ferry Building Marketplace is a magical place to catch a ferry, browse small boutique shops offering everything from artisan cheese and fine wine to fresh local seafood or dine in a handful of cafes or restaurants. All this magic is only three short blocks from our apartment!

Inside the Ferry Building Marketplace, we enjoy yummy gelato!

Another shot of the Transamerica Pyramid and the Sentinel Building that is home to Cafe Zoetrope and American Zoetrope (studio headquarters for a studio founded in 1969 by Francis Ford Coppola and George Lucas). Coppola wrote most of "The Godfather" screenplay in nearby cafes and City of Lights bookstore across the street. Very cool!

About a boy and mom and a baseball game

When Dave called me this morning to ask if I wanted to go to the Giants baseball game tonight, my adventuring spirit was less than thrilled. Especially since he only had two tickets and the whole family wouldn't be able to go. "Choose a kid," he said and assured me with "And I'll watch the other one."

I whined back, "Don't y-o-u want to go?"

"No, I have work to do tonight--you go ahead--it'll be fun--pick someone--pick Liam--I'll watch Kimmie."

"Oh, alright (sigh)."

"Well, don't sound too excited!"

"Oh, sorry, just don't...kinda...want...to...go...I feel weird about going by myself with one child and to a ball game."

"Just stop. Go and have fun!"

So my adventuring spirit told my lazy dragging self to buck up and go have some fun with the boy, just the two of yous! (Oops--Chicago-speak slipped in there).

And so, off we went!  It was a 7:15 pm game and it was a little chilly (not Chicago chilly, of course).  Our little adventure began with stuffing our face with ballpark classic eats like hot dogs, Gilroy's famous garlic fries (oh yum), cotton candy, popcorn, and peanuts. We watched the game some, enough to see the Giants kick some serious butt against the Pirates. We took breaks from the game and walked around, perusing team souvenirs and all the different places to eat and drink (beers are $9 per draft, by-the-YIKES-way). We circled the entire ballpark. Saw where a home-run can meet the sea (there were three die-hard fans in tiny paddle boats waiting for the next homer to plop in the cold waters). Visited the Build-a-Bear workshop where you can outfit your bear or other stuffed animal in complete Giants regalia. Slid down a giant Coca-Cola bottle slide. People watched.

Our adventure peaked at the seventh inning stretch as we shouted "Take me out to the ballgame" at the top of our lungs (or rather, bad shouting/singing by this mom as the boy tried to shush his embarrassing mom). After half an inning more, the boy professed that he was tired so we hopped on a Prius taxi and rode five minutes back to the apartment.

This adventure that began in a whiny way ended in a happy hooray. It was an amazing time to be just one on one and hand in little hand. A treat to go to the boy's first Giants game (actually second game, since his first time was the 2002 World Series at five months in utero). Tonight was all about a boy and mom and a baseball game. The best adventure of all.

Nightwatch

This is what my eyes see and shouts to my brain, "Oh My God!"

It's all about the view!

There's no question we rented our apartment for the views.  Take a look from our vantage point (and yes, this is what you actually see from our balcony):

 A good morning it is! Wake up SF!

Midday is busy with boats of all sizes going through the bay. 

 

 Coit Tower on Telegraph Hill

The bay bridge just before sunset...

Ok, now I know why we moved into a tiny-less-than-1000-square-foot-apartment...I don't think my life would have been complete without seeing these views everyday for the next five months. Maybe we should extend the lease for another year...

Just breathe

We arrived in the city today. It was a long one-way flight from Chicago to SF, measured not by time in the air but by what is involved when traveling with kids, luggage, carry-ons, rental car, and a dog. It is not fun. Thank goodness Dave was here to keep the kids in tow while I handled the dog and rental car. It is not until bags are checked, security cleared, plane is boarded, carry-ons are stowed, and seat belts clicked that I can breathe for the first time. Ahhhh.

Never thought airline tea tasted so good.

Breathing stopped when we landed and found out that our luggage was put on another flight. Great, now we have to sit around for a couple hours waiting for our luggage to arrive. Thank goodness Daisy made it ok. We asked, "How is it that our luggage didn't make the flight but the dog did?" They (United Airlines) responded curtly, "Animals are not treated as mere luggage ma'am." The outrage! No duh...just put our luggage on the right plane next time...do YOUR job...I mean, what is the point of checking in two hours early, then? And we have to pay an extra $25 per bag to boot. I was seething.

We made them deliver our luggage to the apartment. We were not going to wait around. Daisy rode off with Grandpa Jack who is taking her in for now, as the apartment does not allow pets. Thank you Grandpa Jack!

Breathing resumes as we drive to our new apartment and the landscape is filled with tall buildings and the bay bridge. Oh, there is so much to be explored. And we can't wait!

Blue skies and fluffy cotton candy clouds

I am heaving huge sighs of relief. The big moving van is on its way west with our belongings. Dave is back with the family for our final weekend in Chicago. The gray cloud that hung over my head for the last few weeks has dissipated making way for blue skies and fluffy cotton candy clouds. The sun is shining and I am happy with the world.

Drowning in stress and boxes

The big moving van comes tomorrow early in the morning. But today, I'm wading through a sea of boxes. No doubt I will be up late, making sure I've included all the things we need for the SF apartment. My stomach is always a little unsettled when packing...they're not butterflies for sure, more like acid slowly eating away at my linings. I always feel like I'm forgetting something. Despite my lists, which I check thrice, I'm not confident in my packing. Much like when I pack for vacations, I always overpack. So, where I thought I would only have five boxes from the kitchen, it has turned out to be almost ten. Let's face it, I'm simply a bad packer and an over-packer to boot.

I wish there was some sort of mandatory packing class offered back in high school--something like "Advanced Packing Skills for Future Cross-Country Moves 101." Maybe then packing would be more like a joyous skip through a field of daffodils, tulips, and wild flowers with the sun shining and soft breeze blowing through my hair. Instead, I'm trudging through deep mucky mud in the middle of a starless and moonless night. Up ahead, a patch of quicksand that I must dodge.

I am drowning in stress and boxes. Boxes and stress. And I'm not a strong swimmer by any means. I would surely be that one individual who is swept out to sea by that freak wave.

All I need to do is just get through today (and tonight). Armed with a 3" tape gun and Sharpie, I'm pulling on my waist-high fishing waders and clipping on my hat flashlight. I'm going to get through the mud and darkness, working and packing towards my beacon of light--the big moving van. In the early morning when it pulls up curbside, it will be my angel, complete with halo and heavenly harp music. Because when the moving van flies  drives away, there will be no more packing to be done (at least until the big and final move).

A year older

Today is my birthday. Happy Birthday to me! I can't get enough of these tunes...they will be playing on repeat in my head all day long! Sing along with me...

A nomadic kind of life

The real estate agent called this morning to say that we have a showing scheduled between 3 - 4 PM today. Ok! Although my house is usually very tidy and clean, I still get into a frenzy. Even though I already vacuumed this morning (every morning in fact--it's an obsession), pull out the vacuum again (I want to see those nice even lines on the carpet). Wipe down the counters! Sweep! Mop! Primp, primp, primp! Turn on all the lights for the showing! Make sure everything is perfectly coifed and staged! Let's sell this house!

The downside is that we become homeless for that one hour while our home is being gawked at, probed, criticized and violated by strangers who stomp in (and who probably don't wipe their feet) and tour the house, to see if our home could become their home. During these one hour tours, I pack up the kids and we lead a sixty-minute-at-a-time nomadic life. We may browse aimlessly through Borders or Blockbuster or even pick up a few groceries at Whole Foods. Sometimes I just drive around with no destination in mind. Other times, I'll take them to lunch at Maggiano's (they have great calamari) or I'll bring them to Oberweis to grab some ice cream.

Today, I feel tired of going through all these motions. Sure, I'll still tidy up and make sure everything is in its place but I just don't feel like it. I don't feel like driving somewhere. I don't feel like letting strangers in. I want to have a quiet Sunday, playing board games with the kids or reading or watching a movie with them. I want to close all the curtains and hole up, cuddle up and rock myself to sleep. I know, I know...just allow me a few seconds of self-pity and introversion.

Now snap out of it! Get back to cleaning! Move, move, move!

I think I'll take the kids to Oberweis today. That's one of their favorite places. They need a treat and so do I.

3 AM

Sleep does not come

as she should.

A gentle knock at the door

would suffice.

But the waiting and waiting

does not end.

Circles and squares

as my mind races

and I cannot stop

to let her in.

Sleep does not come

as she should.

It has been so long

since I've seen

her face.

A distant memory

foggy,

evaporating,

ethereal.

Sleep does not come

as she should.

Suspended limbs

numb to her

touch.

Heavy lids

that will not close.

3 AM

has come too

soon without

a knock
or kiss.

**Written the other night at 3 AM.

Have family, will travel

Enough is enough. What are we waiting for? Sure we have to sell the house. But what's holding us back from just moving already? Let's analyze...

Obstacle #1: Kids are in school. Can't take them out until June. Hmmm. First of all, Kimmie is only in preschool. An excellent preschool but really, no problem there. Liam is in first grade with three quarters already under his belt. He's at the top of his class with the latest assessment scores that say he's mastered first grade. So, I'll just homeschool him for the last quarter. After all, isn't living in an awesome city like SF full of other educational value, like an unique life experience abounding with endless cultural opportunities? Done deal.

Obstacle #2: Financial--having to pay for both a mortgage payment and rent in a high-rise apartment. Maybe we can find someone to rent our house until it sells?

Obstacle #3: Empty house without anyone to look after it. The real estate agent will have to do it (she'll be earning her 2 1/2 percent, that's for sure). We'll just hire a cleaning service to come in every two weeks. Keep the gardener on to landscape and mow weekly. We'll leave behind most of the furniture to stage the house. Pay the neighbor's kid to come in and water the plants weekly (or just have the real estate agent do it). Seems things are covered here. Move on.

Enough with the negatives. What are the positives?

Benefit #1: The family will be together again. Enough said.

Benefit #2: Living in downtown SF. We only have a six month lease on the apartment. If we wait to move until we sell the house, we'll miss a big opportunity to experience all that SF has to offer before we move to the suburbs and get "settled." We missed the opportunity to live in downtown Chicago seven years ago, can't pass on this last chance to live in a big city.

Benefit #3: Moving on with life.

After careful deliberation, we have decided to move ahead. Ultimately, being together as a whole family unit is the main and perhaps only factor to consider. Therefore, by the end of next week (Spring Break), a moving company will pack and move a very small amount of our belongings--two twin beds, king bed, one sofa, one TV, some dishes...you get the picture...about 5,000 lbs worth of stuff. The second move will happen once the house sells. When that happens (hopefully sooner than later), the second move will probably be around 15,000 lbs! I'm not looking forward to that final move but why stress now? My blinders are on and I'm just looking to the west where sunshine calls home.

City by the bay, here we come!

Just throw it out already!

I'm slowly packing up the house. At this point, I'm tackling one closet at a time. Looking at all these bloated and burgeoning closets, stuffed full of things we never use but hide away and keep "just in case," I'm this close to just shucking everything. Really, do I need those hideous orange kitten mules that I bought five years ago to wear to a business casual event? Or the awful (and yes, slutty) silver 5" heels I wore once to Vegas for a Manny Pacquaio boxing match? Or the too tight t-shirts that used to fit when I was in college? Do the kids need those toys they haven't touched for months (and wouldn't notice if they went "missing")? Do we need to save every Halloween costume? Or tacky souvenir from past vacations?

Usually, Dave is the one to rid our lives of these unnecessary, unused and obsolete items. He will go through our things like clockwork every six months or so and toss them out without remorse. I, on the other hand, am the pack rat of the family. This is why I have been allotted one closet and a few drawers to stuff things away to my heart's delight and be exempt from Dave's purging tendencies. But now, since Dave is already in SF, I am the one to shoulder this big task. Will I have the will to toss things out without looking back and clinging onto all things unworn or forgotten behind closet doors?

My mom immigrated to the USA from Vietnam long ago in 1975 with one suitcase and four kids (the fourth child was the illegitimate love-child of her maid whom my mom "adopted"). She tried to bring more luggage but was forced by officials to toss everything into the sea save one measly suitcase. This one suitcase held a few precious photos and other keepsakes of a life she would leave behind forever. I think of her and her courageous move across the world while I throw out bags upon bags of things we don't need to move across country. To move forward in our lives now, we will need a big 75 ft truck to house all our household goods and furniture. And she, long ago, forged ahead with one simple suitcase.

That is the simple way to move. Just toss out everything and start anew. Do we need six sofas (yes, six)?!? We won't even have enough space in our future tiny house for all these seating options. Most people make due with one or two. We have six! Don't get me started on all the other stuff we've accumulated over the years.

So, let's start with the sofas. Just toss them all--save one.

Ok, probably won't happen but I'm feeling a bit cavalier and just want to move on with life. Without all this stuff.

Like walking through a Salvador Dali painting

Driving home after volunteering in my son's 1st grade class for the morning, I see the "For Sale by ReMax" sign planted on my lawn. Surreal moment seeing this foreign object sticking out of my otherwise nicely manicured lawn. Surreal because I feel like I'm wandering aimlessly through Salvador Dali's painting titled "The Persistence of Memory." These melting watches are said to symbolize the irrelevance of time.  As I meander around in the painting, I'm trying to take hold of time--to grasp these clocks. However, I can't seem to get a good grip. It seems my frustration lies not within the irrelevance of time but its absolute relevance. Absolute because there is no stopping linear time. We are selling the house. Eventually it will be sold. Our time in the midwest (at least for now) has come to an end. We will move to SF. We will live in a high-rise apartment in downtown SF for six months. The six month lease will come to an end. We will buy a house in the suburbs. The kids will go to school somewhere. They will graduate high school. They will graduate college. They will get married. They will have a family. I will be a grandmother. And so on.

Time marches forth with every tick and tock. And it waits for no one. This is our reality.

I feel like throwing up. I want to pull out that For Sale sign off my lawn. I want to turn back time and relive the last seven years in our home again. Don't wake me from this dream. Just let me linger a few tick tocks more.

Going back to Cali

**Note: The following blog was actually written in early January 2010 and it is only now that I have found the will to finish it. Hereon, I will probably focus on our impending move to the west coast.

How does that LL Cool J song go...

"I'm going back to Cali, Cali, Cali
I'm going back to Cali.. hmm, I don't think so
I'm going back to Cali, Cali, Cali
I'm going back to Cali.. I don't think so"


These lyrics keep repeating in my head like a broken record. Well, it is official--the Graney family is moving back to California--San Francisco ("The city by the bay" or simply "The City" as the locals term it). After almost seven years in the marvelous midwest, we are going "home." What does going back to Cali really mean? Sure, it is amazing that Dave received a promotion (especially in this day and age) and will be VP of the Northwest region--exciting and challenging times ahead work-wise. But at this very moment, this impending move personally means utter chaos, panic, and even depression to me. Let me break it down:

1. Depression because we have to sell our beautiful home in a very depressed market, getting pennies on the many dollars spent sprucing up the homestead (we just finished remodeling our amazing sunroom in late summer for heaven's sake)! Will we have any equity to buy another house?

2. Chaos because our lives are in for a major upheaval, especially for the kids, who have only known Chicagoland for their entire lives (except for Liam who was six months old when we moved here but that doesn't really count). Who am I kidding, the kids are still too young to truly feel the brunt of this decision made by their parents. Dave and I are the ones who will be sitting in the front of this roller coaster, both hands up. Eyes wide open.

3. Chaos, panic and depression because where will we live in SF? What neighborhoods are good? How are the schools?

4. Depression because west coast housing prices are so inflated (even in this current deflated housing market). Will we have to move back into a starter home again even though this next house will be our fourth purchased? Or do we shell out 7 figures for a home in a good hood with good schools?

5. Chaos and depression because Dave will most likely move out to SF first, leaving us behind to prep, sell, and pack up the house.

6. Chaos and depression because Dave's after work hours will be very lonely--devoid of the pitter patter of stomping feet, laughter, screeches, and not-so-funny knock knock jokes. I can't even scratch the surface on how lonely it will be.

7. Chaos, panic and depression because the kids will simply be without their dad for long stretches of time.

8. Chaos, panic and depression because I will be without a best friend, confidant, weekend chef, and temporary relief from the kids.

9. Panic because everything is happening so fast. It's like one day you are living an ordinary mundane routine life and then you wake up the next day and *Boom* your world is upside down.

10. Panic because the "To Do List" is already three pages long--filled with items around the house that need to be repaired, replaced, touched up, stained, cleaned, given away, packed, thrown out, and well, you get the drift.

11. Chaos, panic and depression because this so-called list does not truly encompass all the other emotions swirling around in my bloated brain.

12. Chaos, panic, and depression because I simply can't stop hyperventilating on the inside.

So, keep tuning in to see if my brain actually explodes or if the house actually sells or if I just pack up and leave everything behind to join the husband in SF. A storm is developing on the horizon. Gray skies and dreary days ahead. Is there a sliver of California sunshine somewhere out there, I hope?

Visiting our old stompin' grounds -- Westwood Village, CA

Today, en-route to Dana Point for the annual President's Club, we had to make a quick pit stop to revisit our glorious college town of Westwood Village. It was great to walk the streets that we had memorized so well back in our college years. Reminiscing about those carefree days. Noting how things have changed and yet stayed the same. Every time we're in Westwood, we usually have a specific goal -- grab a bite to eat at Mongol's BBQ. One of our favorite places to eat back then and so when we can, we stop in to get our fix of that "make-it-yourself" bowl of noodles. Years ago, when we were starving students, we were able to make a visit to Mongol's worthwhile by loading up the bowls to make leftovers for at least two more meals apiece. There was definitely an art to stuffing the bowls just right (Dave was the master at it). We would compete with each other to see how high we could stack a variety of meat, vegetables and, of course, noodles. I remember the gawking looks of other patrons who marveled at our skill.

But today, we make smaller bowls and are happy to sit and eat as the memories come rushing back with every bite.

Sunset in LA

Well, we're back in Los Angeles and what finds us? A beautiful sunset. A four star hotel via Hotwire.com for only $123 per night. And of course, we are sans kids for the weekend!

The Intercontinental was lovely. The staff were amazing and attentive. Decent sushi bar in the hotel (limited selection but who's complaining). Comfortable bed with crisp linen (love that)! Overall, for an overnight stay, we were very pleased. Except the pool does not compare to the Intercontinental in Chicago (see below).

Oh stop grumbling already! A wonderful weekend lies ahead! Enjoy it while you can!

Me time in an airport

Every year around this time (end of January), we have a black tie event to attend. President's Club. Elite group of top sales reps nationwide gather and are honored for their amazing sales performance for the previous year. The chosen location for this year's event is the St. Regis Monarch Beach Resort & Spa in Dana Point, CA. Mostly work-related starting from the cocktail party on Friday night to the President's Club formal affair on Saturday night. Time off in between to steal some alone time with my husband. But game faces are on those Friday and Saturday nights. Even though it is business, and Dave is there to support his top sales reps, we have a fun time catching up with our once-a-year acquaintances (at least for me--Dave sees the other VPs, managers, and reps more often). I like to hang with the other "management wives" and the reps' better halves. Time to chat nonstop over cocktails that are flowing nonstop. The wives get to dress up in party smocks and gowns, wear make-up for a change, and sip frou frou drinks without having to worry about kids, cooking dinner, and cleaning up.

So, today, I felt a strange, almost forgotten sense of independence as I walked through Chicago O'Hare airport en-route to Los Angeles to meet my husband who was already there for business. Even in the middle of a bustling airport like O'Hare, there was a quietness inside and all around me. No little feet padding quickly to keep up. No tiny fingers to hold onto. No stroller to push. No husband with whom to eat a quick bite or linger and browse the airport bookstore.

Just myself. By myself. An endangered species these days when you wear different hats--mom, wife, amateur chef, laundress, cleaning lady.

Alone, I sipped tea quietly while actually reading without interruption more than a page of a long neglected book ("The Quiet American" by Graham Greene, waited patiently, unfinished, on my nightstand for about three months). I had no crayons to pull out or snacks to pass around. No urgent potty emergencies to deal with. No one to talk to. No one to listen to. A quiet sense of self reemerged. This was my mini-vacation away from noise, duty and responsibility.

I was eighteen again, having just moved away from home and living in a tiny apartment with three roommates off campus at UCLA. I had no ties to anyone except myself. Those days, all I had to do was get up, listen to music (probably Lenny Kravitz, 10,000 Maniacs or Sinead O'Connor) while I dressed and prepared for the day's one or two classes. Walked the hilly streets of Westwood Village to encounter more mini slopes and paths on campus. My legs were super toned back then. Famously so.

Grab a Snickers bar for lunch--or when I could afford it, splurge on sushi at Ackerman Union. Listen to a noon time concert--I remember the Soup Dragons vividly. Groups of students walking to and fro--rushing to class or meeting friends for lunch. I could people watch for hours.

Blissfully self-sufficient, confident, young, beautiful and smart. The future was wide open.

So, in the middle of the crowded food court between American Airlines gates A & H, I sat alone and people watched. Formed quick opinions about the older southern couple next to me who were loudly arguing about their grandchildren. The lone business man on his Bluetooth contraption and laptop simultaneously while barking orders to someone on the other line. The teenage girl slumped over her iPod and ignoring her parents. The Polish lady with too much make-up wiping down tables after people.

If someone was watching me, what opinion would they form? Quiet, bespectacled Asian lady (no longer a girl) sipping tea and reading a book. What is her story? Is she married (she has a ring on--so, yes)? Does she have kids? How old is she--probably in her early to mid 30s (oh, I'm being so kind to myself here). Maybe she's a famous actor from Asia that no one recognizes in the States. She is a mystery! Can't figure her out!

Wait--is she alone--a sole explorer for the day? Well, I was, at least for a few hours until the plane landed in LAX and my husband was there waiting for me. But then, another adventure ensued, as we were a couple again (and without kids for the weekend)!

Getting rid of the winter blues

A glimpse of my summer dahlia flower to cheer me out of this winter wasteland funk.

Oh, warmer clime, come soon! Oh, to go barefoot again!

A letter to myself looking forward to 2010

Gloria Swanson in "The Trespasser" 1928
Photo courtesy www.mptvimages.com

Dear Me,
  
Well, 2009 whizzed by, did it not? You blinked and with a flutter of a few eyelashes, a brand new year (and decade) is upon you, like a brand new baby dropped off on your doorstep. The doorbell rings and you open the front door to find at your feet an unmarked box housing a curious bundle.
  
For a moment, you contemplate just shutting the door and ignoring it altogether. But, despite your attempts of delaying the inevitable, you bring the box in and set it on your kitchen table. You open the box and lo and behold, it is the new year 2010 wrapped in white and silver tissue and fancy ribbons. The gift of the new year is like a newly washed blackboard, freshly fallen snow, an unopened box of chocolates, a restaurant you've never tried but always wanted to, a first date, a first kiss, a ripe peach ready to be eaten, or the moment you step onto sand on the first day of vacation. The new year is waiting for you to write a meaningful sentence with crisp new chalk, make snow angels on pure white fluffy snow, savor each chocolate like it is your last, order everything on the menu, flirt shamelessly on the first date with your future husband, hold your breath and let it out after that handsome future husband kisses you for the first time, relish each juicy bite of the perfect peach, and wriggle your toes in white soft sand while sipping a tall cocktail complete with pineapple slice and umbrella.
     
You feel like this on the first day of every new year...2010 is no different...a new year...a new decade...a clean slate...life is anew!
     
Things you need to do more of in 2010...
1. Kiss and hug your kids more everyday. Instead of 100 kisses and hugs, you need to give 101!

2. Kiss and hug your husband more everyday. Same math as noted above.

3. Actually sit down for at least 5-10 minutes while you drink your morning tea.

4. Walk the dog at least twice per day.

5. Cook with more flair and imagination (like your awesome weekend-chef-husband).

6. Read more (finish at least one book this year).

7. Write more (finish at least one chapter in your "Great American Novel").

8. Drink more water.

9. Exercise more (walking the dog does not count).

10. Take more vacations.

11. Go out on date nights with your husband.

12. Beat your husband at Scrabble (which includes getting more bingos).

     

Things you need to do less of in 2010...

1. Yell at the kids.

2. Yell at the dog.

3. Let dishes pile up.

4. Let laundry pile up.

5. Pass off McDonald's Happy Meals as lunch.

6. Obsess about shoveling the driveway.

7. Procrastinating and waiting to the last minute for EVERYTHING. This means you have to start Christmas shopping in January!

8. Being late for EVERYTHING.

9. Being so critical (of yourself) and obsessing about EVERYTHING!

10. Multitask less. Yes, I said it.

     

What you really need to do in 2010 is just enjoy life every day. You will always have your To Do lists but you must remember to stop moving sometimes and just breathe. Linger a few moments and then GO!

     

Happy New Year and Decade to me/you/Yen!

     

Yours affectionately,

Perfect Me

     

P.S. Stop blogging and go fix lunch. Put in a load of laundry while you're at it. And get the dog water and food as well. Vacuum the basement. Put away the dishes in the dishwasher. Shovel the driveway. Bake some cookies. Make a list or you'll forget!

Happy Birthday Liam!

A Poem for a Just Turned Seven Year Old

Seven seconds ago

you were a tiny babe

who slept in my arms.

Today you blew out

seven candles with

one puff.

You have the stuff

of bright eyes

and mind,

precocious

and kind.

Oh sunshine of mine,

I could never rewind

this soaring joy

that finds

a home in my heart.

We want candy!

 

At long last, Halloween is here! It is the day when everyone in this household is required to wear a costume. So, for the day, Kimmie has transformed into Mulan, Liam is a miniature Indiana Jones and Dave is the Man With No Name (Clint Eastwood) of "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly." As for myself, I am obviously a kitty cat because, duh, I have cat ears and whiskers! I will admit that my "costume" is quite unimaginative, but after pulling together the costumes for everyone else, I didn't have the energy to exert any thought into my own Halloween persona. There is always next year! I need to start thinking of something now so I can get a head start. Oh, who am I kidding? I'll just pull out the trusty ole witch hat the night before...

H a P p Y   H a L L o W e e N ! ! !

Footnote: Today and only today is the day when the kids are allowed to eat candy to their hearts content. Shove it in! Eat every sweet in sight! With much delight, both kids gleefully consumed a mass quantity of candy. Kimmie was not often seen without a candy in each hand, greedily stuffing her face with endless sweets. And Liam, after "sorting" his candy (he meticulously put in piles all the Snickers, Kit Kats, lollipops, Lemon Heads, etc.), he delved right in. He ate and ate, much like Augustus Gloop himself, without reserve or fear of reprimand. Oh, and he loved it. At least, until he got a stomach ache. As parents, this is a blatant "I told you so" moment, but in the end you still feel bad for him. Of course, before the kids were allowed to embark on this unfettered feast of sweets, we did issue our usual caveat that "if you eat too much candy, you might get a stomach ache." In the end, except for tummy ache, which will soon be forgotten tomorrow, today was a good day.

My very own JFK

My version of a JFKesque-pensive-candid-moment.

This is

DMG

(David Michael Graney).
I love it!

Question: Can you guess what he is reading? An important document? Engrossing book?

Answer: Oh no...it's the almighty black(crack)berry!

What the Gettysburg Address and Daffodils have in common

When Liam was four years old, before he could read or write words on his own, we asked him to transcribe Abraham Lincoln's Gettysburg Address in its entirety. I think it took him three weeks to finish. The writing is obviously childish and the lettering is quite amusing and imaginative to the say the least but it captures a moment in his young years that we will never get back. Of course, we had the precious pages matted and framed. Much like filming or photographing the kids in various stages of their lives from babyhood, first steps, holidays, or simply playing, we wanted to record (in writing) this snippet in time before they could read much less understand what they were writing. I think they, as will we--the proud parents, look upon these early writing samples and remember back to their toddling years with much fondness. For me, I'm sure I'll shed a sentimental tear or two.

Now that Kimmie is at the same age, we toiled over which passage she would copy. We decided that it must be a poem. Dave came across the lovely poem "I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud" by William Wordsworth. I hadn't read this poem since my younger days and it instantly carried me back to when I loved to read and write poetry (oh so long ago). I had forgotten this poem and when I read it again, I knew at once that it was the perfect one. Knowing that daffodils are one of my favorite obsessions, Dave was a sweetheart to reintroduce this poem into my life. Now I will always have my daffodils (and flower fields) as transcribed by my lovely little lass.

I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud

by William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they

Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;

A poet could not be but gay,

In such a jocund company!

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.