Best Yet

Friday's advent activity was to drive around to look at Christmas lights. This seems so simple that it couldn't be so great, but it WAS! The kids got into their pajamas, we turned on a Van Morrison CD (perfect light-viewing music), and we drove around to look at lights. Pasadena and surrounds have some pretty great spots to look at lights. But even on the way to said spots, there was so much for the kids to enjoy. They rated which homes were their favorites and we heard, "Oh! Awesome!" over and over again. When we arrived at Christmas Tree Lane in Altadena, it was just as magical as I remembered it as a child. People turn off their car lights to drive slowly down the street and enjoy the splendor of all the colored lights on the tall trees. Even the kids were speechless, except for a few, "Whooooooaaaas." Majestic. And then we went over to the Hastings Ranch area, which is just the opposite -- tacky and gaudy and everything little kids love. They ooohed and aaahed over snowpeople and Mickey Mouse and penguins and all sorts of "holiday" animals. We ended the night with more tall trees on St. Albans in San Marino. They, too, were beautiful. On the way back home, Annalise fell asleep, Juliette woke up (and didn't fall back asleep until 11:00) and Zachary complained that we weren't getting home fast enough. But for almost two hours, we delighted together, as a family, in the magic of the season.

Advent

We have had the loveliest advent season this year. It seems like usually the advent season is filled with chaos: last minute shopping, running errands, big messes, lots of cooking, stressed out parents and sugared-up kids. Don't get me wrong, we still have a lot of all of that going on, but for some reason, this year, it all seems somewhat blissful. As I wrote before, this year for advent we are doing something special each day. I even found at the Bargain Box Thrift Store an advent calendar with little pockets for each day. It's made of felt and hangs on our wall. Each day the kids look in the pocket to see what the activity of the day is going to be. Truthfully, most of the activities are things that we do anyway this time of year. But for some reason, making that THE special event of the day really does make it special. So far we have, amongst other things, made fudge for the neighbors, watched the movie Elf (with popcorn and hot chocolate), read Christmas books, sung carols, decorated the tree and made a gingerbread house. Annalise, in particular, has really loved this time. The first thing she does when she wakes up is go to look in the pocket to see what special thing the day holds for us. It's really made the season magical for us.

The other thing that has been so magical this season is the gift-giving of my children. Annalise has been working like mad to make her Christmas gifts. She has been picking out projects and taking a lot of time to work on them. Right now she is at Grandma's, learning to cross-stitch, because she really wanted to cross-stitch a bookmark for her daddy. I'm anxious to see how she does! And today, Zachary couldn't wait to go to the toy store to choose gifts for his sisters. (He really thought we should get a babysitter for Juliette because he wanted her to be surprised. I promised him that I would face her in in the carrier so she wouldn't see what he picked.) We spent quite a long time in the store, looking up and down every row until he found just the right thing for each girl. A LOT of thought went into his choices.

It's going to be a wonderful Christmas this year, even though Annalise is not getting a Wii and Zachary is not getting every set of Star Wars Legos ever made. It will be wonderful because they will truly understand the magic of giving. How lucky they are to learn how great that can feel.

Zach, the Lego Maniac

I've always considered myself to be reasonably creative. I like to make things with my hands. I do calligraphy and other kinds of "cute" decorative writing. I can come up with clever party ideas. I can even come up with creative gift ideas. (All of this is when I am actually given the time to think, that is.) But when I am confronted with a pile of random Legos, I haven't a clue what to do with them. The best thing I can come up with is a very sturdy tower or maybe a really lame, boring four-wheeled vehicle. I'm truly at a loss as to what to do with them. If I'm given the instructions and a finite set of Legos, I have a chance at following the directions and creating something really cool. But it's something really cool that the Lego people invented, not I.

But Zachary is a Lego god. He can build anything his imagination wants him to build. We have ships of all sorts (pirate ships, space ships, ships owned by "good guys" and ships owned by "the bad robots") in all rooms of the house that he has created. He makes vehicles and buildings and anything he sets his mind to. It amazes me how creative he can be. He definitely takes after his father in this area, who is just as excited as Zachary is when a new Lego package arrives in our home. The two of them could build with Legos all day and make a lot more than just a sturdy tower. Zachary can even put the Lego people to shame with some of his creations.

Zachary struggles with a lot of things. We suspect that school will not be very easy for him. He doesn't know his letters and numbers and has difficulty remembering certain things. Of course this does not apply to any event that has happened EVER in his life -- he remembers it all -- or any place he's ever been or the plot to a book or movie. But some things just escape him. His sister, in contrast, excels in school. And we suspect that for her school will be easy. She has her sights set on Stanford and we don't doubt that she one day may go there. But creativity is not in her blood like it is in Zachary's. His imagination runs deep and his ability to see it to fruition is something I envy. I can't wait to see what will become of this little man. But I will bet big money that he will be using his hands and his imagination. What a gift.

Already, A Life of Crime

Today, Zachary and Juliette and I were shopping for Christmas gifts in our local bookstore. Mostly we wanted to pick out some books for my nephew, Saverio, who is about three weeks younger than Juliette. Zachary, excited to be picking out gifts for a boy, looked at just about every board book in the store. Finally, we settled on That's Not My Plane and That's Not My Monkey. He chose the monkey book first because, "Saverio LOVES monkeys!" (How Zachary knows this, I'm not sure. He hasn't seen him since he was three months old.) Regardless, apparently Juliette loves monkeys, too, because she snatched it out of my hand right away and looked at it in the front carrier the whole time we were in the store. Sure enough, we got out to the car, and as I went to put Juliette into her carseat, in between her little body and mine was the monkey book, totally hidden from view. Already, at the age of eleven months minus three days, she is a shoplifter. Sneaky little one.

Free Time

Things have been busy at the Evans house. Between sick kids (and adults), no more nap time for a young boy and our crazy schedule, I haven't had time to write in my blog for over a month! Things are busy, but good. Soccer season has wrapped up for both Annalise and Zachary. They both had a great time and really improved a lot. School and activities have been in full force. But this week we have the joy of having a whole week off of school. Instead of throwing the kids in the car or on a plane, as we often do, we have opted to stay at home for a blissful week of nothingness! Aside from a birthday party this afternoon and a visit from good friends tomorrow, we have nothing on the calendar! We are going to try to take this time to just BE. With all our crazy schedules, we often forget that the most important thing for children is this self-directed play. Right now the kids are outside playing with a friend. I can hear them, but I am ignoring them -- letting them resolve any problems, letting them make up the rules to their games, letting them make a mess. I feel like we haven't had this kind of time since summer. What a blessing it is to have this time.

We have another goal for this week, and that is to start planning our Christmas. Last year, we decided to have a very minimal Christmas. The adults did not exchange gifts with one another, opting instead to give to our favorite charities. The kids made all their gifts, which were a HUGE hit. And, though the kids did get some toys, books and clothes, we also gave the gift of experiences. My parents have really loved this idea. My mom came up with this idea two years ago when she gave Annalise a trip to San Francisco! (How cool is that!? -- a trip with just Grandma to stay at Uncle David's house.) Last year, Annalise loved taking a hike with her Papa and Zachary loved going with him to see the Rose Parade float being built. They also each got to do something special with Grandma and got time with Jason and me as well. It was such a wonderful Christmas... The first one where we spent more on giving to charity than we did on our family and friends, and the first one where we all really embraced the idea of the gift of time. We are hoping to do much of the same this year. I just read an idea in Mothering magazine about making an advent calendar. Instead of a picture or toy or candy, in this advent calendar, each day holds a slip of paper with an activity on it. They can be something simple, like take a walk to look at Christmas lights or play a board game. Some will take some special planning, like go ice skating or get a Christmas tree. I loved this idea. I am hoping to make one of these advent calendars this year.

Annalise and I have also already been scheming about what to give the grandparents. (It will be hard to beat the hand-painted linen napkins she made last year.) We already have a plan and have started to accumulate the materials we need to make her presents. Today we went for a walk on the horse trail to gather pinecones. We had such a great time finding the perfect ones for our project. Zachary loved finding huge ones as well. We decided we'll have to make birdfeeders with those. As we were walking, I just couldn't help but feeling that this was what Christmas was really about. We were having a wonderful time with the process of the present (not stressed out in a mall or typing our credit card information into a computer). Her gifts will be thoughtful, beautiful and heatfelt. I know she will have so much pride in giving and her grandparents will have so much pride in receiving. Last year, as she and I snuggled after a busy Christmas day, I asked her if she had a good Christmas. She said yes, she did, but her favorite part of the day was watching people open the presents she had made for them. As a six year old, she understood the joy in giving. It doesn't get any better than that.

Juliette's Birth Story

In light of the fact that my memory seems to be rapidly disintegrating, I thought I ought to write down Juliette's birth story before it is forgotten.

Juliette was due on the 27th of January. Both of my other two babies were late and I didn't go into labor with either one. Annalise was induced nine days after my due date. And with Zachary, they broke my water five days after my due date because I was six centimeters dilated but not in labor. So we assumed that baby number three would take a similar course. But long before we were even pregnant, Jason and I had bought 1.20.09 shirts from the Bush's Last Day shop. With Juliette's due date so close to the inauguration, we joked about how awesome it would be to have a baby on that day. But in actuality, we thought it would never happen. (And if by chance this baby was early, it would be before that -- just to stick it to us that we would have THREE Bush babies. Ugh.)

When I was seven or eight months along, our doctor was a little concerned that the baby wasn't growing well, so he put me on a kind of a modified bed rest. I had to lay down at least 2-3 hours during the day (because that's easy with two other kids) and eat as much as I could. Fortunately, it worked and the baby showed some significant growth after a month. With a little over a week to go before my due date, our doctor was convinced that the baby was a good size and gave me the go ahead to resume my activities. Of course the next day I did four hours of gardening. (It was a lot after almost two months on my butt.) And did I mention how hot it was? All my kids were born when it was freakishly hot, so I should have known that a heat wave in January was a sure sign that a baby was coming.

The night of Monday, the 19th I started feeling contractions. I knew that I had a long way to go because on Friday I had only been one centimeter dilated. So I tried to read and then I took a bath. At some point I woke Jason up and packed my bag. After the bath, it became clear that my water had broken. After some discussion, we decided it was time to call my mom. Since Zachary had come so quickly, we didn't know how much time we'd have. My mom came over at about three in the morning to stay with the kids. Jason and I headed off to the hospital alone. This would be our first delivery without any other support staff. My mom had been at both births and my friend Jenn was with us when Annalise was born and Sarah was with us for Zachary's birth.

At the hospital they determined that my water had indeed broken but that my contractions weren't doing enough quickly enough for my doctor's taste. He wanted to put me on Pitocin. Now Pitocin and I have met before. Pitocin was in the house during Annalise's delivery. I know Pitocin and Pitocin is not my friend. I had really wanted to go all natural like I had with Zachary, but the idea of many more hours of Pitocin contractions and I was ready for an epidural. It was actually a really easy decision. So around six in the morning, I got my Pitocin and sometime after seven I got my epidural. In the meantime, we were able to relax and watch the inauguration. By this time, it was clear that we were indeed going to have a baby on 1.20.09. Unbelievable. We just hoped the baby would hold out a little longer so that she or he would be an Obama baby.

Watching the inauguration while in labor was a really surreal experience. We were watching what we thought was one of the most significant historical events to happen in our lifetime. And at the same time, on a personal level, we were having one of the most significant events of our lives. In short, it was amazing.

Our labor and delivery nurse stayed in our room all morning. Jason and I watched the whole inauguration with her. Right around the time that Biden was sworn in, she checked me and I was ready to push. She paged our doctor and was surprised to find out he had never left the hospital. We thought he would be right there and were pondering having a baby born while Biden was vice president but Bush was still president. Fortunately our doctor took his sweet time. (It turns out he was watching the inauguration in the doctor's lounge. He didn't want to miss it. Of course he had no idea we were watching it, too. It's a good thing I'd had that epidural and could hold off on the pushing for a bit!) Obama was sworn in, our doctor finally arrived and we started pushing. (In between pushes he would turn around and watch the TV!) During the singing of the national anthem, at 9:35 in the morning, Juliette was born. It was one of the coolest moments of my life. I was so glad I'd had the epidural because I was able to relax and enjoy her birth and the inauguration. I was so present in the moment. Her birthday will be celebrated by so many people. It really is the best birthday ever. I even have the t-shirt to prove it!

Memories, or Lack There Of

On Saturday, Annalise woke up with a fever in the middle of the night. So I gave her some Tylenol and got into bed with her until her fever dropped and she finally fell back asleep. While we were lying there, she asked me to tell her stories of when I was a little kid. Most of the stories I have to tell she's heard again and again. I'm running out of stories and I don't know if that's because I just don't remember or because my life was really pretty boring and there's really not much worth remembering. Still I was able to come up with enough to keep her distracted and amused.

In the meantime, I started to worry because I am starting to forget what my own kids were like as babies. I have very specific memories of them as they got a little older -- ten months or so and up. But before that, I have these vague recollections of a lot of crying (not just me) and walking and walking and walking and nursing and nursing and nursing. I do have some memories, but stories, not so much. Is it just because in the long run they all kind of do the same thing at roughly the same age and in retrospect it's really not all that intgeresting? I don't know. This concept seems so weird for me, too, since we are enjoying Juliette so much right now. Why wouldn't I want to remember this? So I'm going to try to take pictures in my head of her as she dances with that goofy smile, showing her little dimple. I'll try to remember how much she loves Cheerios and how she does some weird sucking thing when she eats something a little sour. (See, already forgotten what the sour thing was. Just remember the face.) I'll remember how much she loves to wrestle with her brother and giggles that beautiful baby giggle. I won't forget how she used to look up at the pictures of Paris and Venice above her changing table and dream of European vacations. I won't forget that for one week she stuck her tongue out so far she looked like a frog. I won't forget how happy to she is to see the people she loves walk throught the door. I promise, Juliette, who is waking up as I write, I won't forget...

Treasure Hunt Party

This weekend we had Annalise's seventh birthday party. According to her, it was, "the best day EVER!!" We did have a great time. Did I mention before that she wanted to have a rock star party? I thought this was a great idea; we could do karaoke. All well and good except that half of her friends can't READ! So the rock star party was out. Somehow we ended up on the idea for a treasure hunt. Here's what we did:

Invitations: For invitations, I always have a picture of the birthday kid. For this one, we "hid" Annalise in the plants with her binoculars. The invitations read, "A treasure is hiding somewhere on our street. Where could it be? The puzzle's incomplete..." And a word to the wise about inviting kids to a party in September -- they all come. Not so in July, but in September, if you want 15 kids, then only invite 15 kids.

Preparations: This party had a lot of prep work before the kids got there. I divided the kids into 5 teams (4-5 kids per team, plus one team of 6 younger siblings). I wanted to divide the teams so that everyone knew at least one kid in their group. This meant the groups changed a bit as I got RSVPs. Then I mapped out where each group would go. It took some cross checking to make sure that the groups were spread out across the neighborhood and not all on top of each other. For the clues, I took pictures around the neighborhood, plus in our front and back yards. (I got the neighbors' permission first.) Then Jason printed them out onto cardstock and I wrote the address where that picture was taken on the clue. Then I cut them up and placed them in numbered envelopes, color coordinated with each team's color. (If you're doing this yourself, make sure you label each envelope with a post it saying where each clue is to be hidden.) Before everyone got there, I ran around the neighborhood hiding clues. (Another time saving hint -- group them by address so you can do them all at once.) This sounds kind of complicated, but it was actually pretty easy.

Activities: For a "craft" and something to do while waiting for all the kids to come, we decorated t-shirts. I had divided the kids (18 big kids and 6 younger siblings) into 5 groups. I ordered t-shirts online for just over $2 a piece. Each group was a different color and decorated a t-shirt in their color. (We used fabric markers and ribbons.) It was amazing what the kids came up with to decorate their shirts. One kid drew an awesome pirate. Lots of the girls made belts out of the ribbon.
When everyone was there and had decorated their shirts, I called all the kids inside for "rules:" things like you have to find all ten clues; don't take a clue that isn't your color, etc. Plus I showed them what they would be looking for and what their clues would look like all put together. (Meanwhile, Jason hid the front yard clues.) They got into their groups and introduced themselves to each other. Once again I had my incredible tutoring kids come to help; one kid per group. Then I gave them their first clue and they were off. It was great to watch them all working together to put together their puzzles and then running all over the neighborhood in their matching t-shirts.
The treasure boxes Jason hid at a point when all the kids were out of the backyard. (We have a hill in our backyard, and he hid all 5 boxes up there.) For the boxes, I found smallish used cardboard boxes at Ralph's market that were ready to be recycled. They were happy to let me have them. Then Zachary and I painted them each the five different colors with tempra paints. We filled them with goodies from Target. Each kid got a Halloween pencil and eraser, some gummy Lifesavers and a pack of gum. Also, I found those punch balloons, so they each got one of those. But the big hit were these balloon launchers. Each pack came with a pump and 20 balloons that blew up to be about three feet long.
When the hunt was over and we had sung happy birthday, we still had some time to kill. So the kids all took their balloon launchers into the street and launched balloons way up into the air. I was nervous about having time left over, but they were all having a great time playing with their balloons, so it actually turned out to be great.

Food: All we did was water bottles, pretzels and popcorn. (I find that kids are generally too busy to eat much at parties and I can't stand the waste.) For cupcakes, we frosted them with either chocolate or vanilla frosting and then put frosting polka dots in our five colors.

This party was soooo much fun. I think all the kids had a blast. And, aside from what went into the treasure boxes (which really could be as simple as you wanted), it was pretty inexpensive. I did no decorations, and used regular table cloths instead of the cheap plastic ones. And since the party was in the middle of the afternoon, I didn't feel like I needed to provide a whole lot of food. Also, since most of the set up was in making the clues, we didn't have a whole lot we had to do the day of the party. (In fact, Jason and Annalise were gone at soccer for most of the morning.) It was totally age appropriate and lots of fun!

My Guys

The other night, around 1:00, our door was flung open, then closed, and a small, wordless boy climbed up into our bed, snuggled down in between us, pulled the covers up over his head and went to sleep. I put one arm around him, resting my hand on his father's back. I grew up in a house of boys. I have two brothers and a dad, so my mom and I were the only girls. We have the opposite situation in our house. I always dreamed of having a sister, and now my girls have each other. How lucky. I wonder how this dynamic will work itself out in our home. Will it make Jason and Zachary closer? Will I spoil Zachy even more since he is my only boy? I don't know. But in the middle of the night, I felt so lucky to have my two guys. The little one had (apparently) had a bad dream or maybe just felt lonely. The big one was sound asleep and didn't even know we had company. The little one had been earlier basking in the glory of his first soccer game, so proud that every time he kicked the ball, he gave us a double thumbs up. The big one had been a willing participant in a soccer drill that involved being pelted by a dozen four year old boys kicking their soccer balls at him. The little one had been disappointed by a half-hearted visit with his grandparents that weekend. The older one was used to the disappointment, but now had to deal with hearing about it from me. The younger one dreamed of Lightning McQueen and Star Wars toys. The older one dreamed of paying off a mortgage. They are so different, these two guys, but are bonded because and in spite of this. Their relationship is often tumultuous, but it is full of love. We may have a very rocky road ahead of us with our little man. But for now, nothing makes me prouder and happier than the sight of my two guys, hand in hand.

Seven

Seven years ago, I went on the most harrowing ride of my life. It was scarier than the first time I drove out to Palm Springs, with only my learner's permit, the wind whipping the car around. It was scarier than the time our family escaped "the biggest storm in 20 years" in Boston, slip sliding up the hill to make it back to my aunt's house in New Jersey in time for Christmas. And it was scarier than the snow storm Jason and I drove through in the middle of the night on our way to Colorado, me hanging my head out the window to see the white line, the only way we knew we were still on the road. Seven years ago, we put one tiny baby into a Graco carseat (checked and properly installed by the CHP) and drove her home. We did not go on the freeway. We did not drive anywhere close to the speed limit. And we had somehow talked my mom into following us home. We had been unsuccessful in talking the nurses into joining us. I sat in the backseat, staring at the beautiful, terrifying, mysterious and loud creature next to me. I was scared out of my mind.

To this day, I do not understand why they let us take that little thing home from the hospital. She was so fragile and helpless. And we had NO CLUE what we were doing. Sure, we had taken every class possible. We knew how to nurse a plastic doll and perform CPR on a dummy. Sure, we had read every book on parenting (a practice I would NOT recommend). I knew that the baby's life should revolve around mine and not the other way around (yeah right) and that I should never let a baby nurse to sleep (um, had that author ever actually interacted with a baby?). But a real life baby, we had come to find out in our two short days in the hospital, was a completely different animal. This little being followed her own rules. We had no idea what those rules were and how to handle them. We knew we were completely in over our heads. I have the picture of myself, about to get into the car, to prove it. I am wearing the face of someone about to walk the plank.

For some reason they did let us take her home, and thank God they did. It took us a while, okay a long while, to figure out Miss Annalise. It took us quite a few more car rides as well, mostly in the middle of the night, with at least two, if not three, of us crying. It took us throwing out most of our parenting books. It took us listening to other parents, both seasoned and brand new. And mostly it took us listening to our hearts. Annalise was not an easy baby; far from it. She did not fit into any mold. She did not fit into our lifestyle; she did not fall asleep on her own. Of course she changed our lifestyle. Isn't that the whole point of parenthood? If I had wanted my life to stay the same, I would never have gotten pregnant to begin with. Annalise made our lives messy. She made things difficult. She made us tired. And cranky. She made my breasts swell and bleed. She spit up on everything, all day long. She cried. A LOT. She made us question every decision we ever made. But she was worth it; all of it. For soon after she arrived at our house, she cuddled with us. She would hold our fingers in her tiny, little hand. And soon after that she was smiling; then giggling; playing peek-a-boo. And the next thing we knew, she was pointing out accessories: "Hat." "Shoes." And then she was running in new shoes, falling down and scraping her knees. She was analyzing the different types of shirt sleeves: "Spaghetti straps." "Cap sleeves." (I know, the fashion thing is interesting. We think she gets it because Auntie Jenn was in the delivery room. She certainly doesn't get it from me!)

Somehow along the way, we learned to throw out the rules. We learned to listen to our hearts and listen to our child. She has grown into a smart and capable first grader. She frustrates the hell out of us sometimes (still). But mostly she amazes us. She is creative and imaginative. She has her own sense of style (obviously). She is kind and giving. She is goofy and beautiful. She sets up a play store called "Kid stuff for way less than you would believe" in our living room. And she sends e-mail to her Grandma, on vacation in Italy, because she misses her. She still wants to cuddle first thing in the morning. Her four-year-old brother is her best friend. She rocks out to Miley Cyrus and Taylor Swift. She is trying to be independent. She wants us to drop her off at school instead of walking her to her classroom. But she wants to sit on my lap at "Eat lunch with your child day." She curls up in a chair and reads chapter books in her head.

I'm still trying to figure Annalise out somedays. Somedays I just don't get her at all. She still makes our lives messy (both literally and figuratively). She still cries a lot. But she hardly ever spits up anymore. And often she's actually able to tell us what's bothering her. She's our first born baby; our experiment. We've made a lot of mistakes along the way, but in the long run, so far, I don't know how, but we have really gotten it right.

Ungrateful

Yesterday was one of those days that just grrrr!!!!! It was bad. I know I just wrote a post about keeping perspective, but sometimes you have to bitch a little bit, too. Anyway, we have ants, the water heater isn't heating water, we have tons of bills to pay and not tons of money with which to pay them. I had a million things to do AND my mom (babysitter/lifesaver/person I complain to) left today for three weeks. Anyway, it started off as one of those days. And I was wearing my sweatpants, which actually are Jenn's hand-me-down yoga pants from when she was pregnant and just post-pregnant. And for those of you who saw me every day last year, you know I wore them every other day last year. Now a few more things actually fit in my wardrobe, so I am trying to disguise myself as an adult. Today I am actually wearing a skirt (a nice one that has to be ironed). But yesterday it was sweats and you know how that doesn't really help the whole attitude. So I was already on the edge.

So after we ran a bunch of errands that required Zachary and Juliette to be in the car for almost two hours, we had to pick Annalise up from school, zip over to South Pasadena to buy Annalise both new ballet and tap shoes and then get back to La Canada in time for her dance lesson. (Basically this meant almost another hour in the car for the little ones who, miraculously, weren't complaining at all.) We were half way to the shoe store when I told Annalise that we probably would not have enough time to go home and change before class, so she would just have to wear her dress and leggings that she wore to school. She proceeded to have an enormous fit (with tears) and would not let it go. So of course, I overreacted as well, turned the car around, yelled about how ungrateful she was, drove home, screamed at her to change her clothes, changed Juliette's diaper, threw everyone back in the car, yelled some more, got the shoes (Thankfully I had my checkbook since in all the yelling I had left my wallet at home.), and took her to dance class fifteen minutes late.

I was so upset I didn't know what to do. Jason said he was surprised I had taken her to the class at all and that I had bought the shoes, too. Truthfully, I wouldn't have done either except that I had already paid for the class AND given away her too small shoes.

Sometimes I get so frustrated with my children. I feel like I've done a good job at teaching them to be grateful for what they have. And then they turn around and have this real sense of entitlement. Where does that come from? Do I give them too much? Do I need to start cutting back on things? I really don't feel like I have spoiled them, but maybe I'm just naive. Maybe I have. Is it just an age thing? Are all seven year olds self centered? Do they all really only care about themselves? Annalise has always done a great job of showing empathy. When someone is hurt, she's great at taking care of them. When they're feelings are hurt, she will be the one who plays with them. But she didn't seem to show any care at all that her brother and sister were being carted all around town. She wanted her shoes. She wanted her ballet outfit and she didn't care who had to suffer in the meantime. I don't know what to do to teach them better that they can't always have everything they want and they can't always have things when they want them. I hope these lessons will come with age. I didn't handle the situation well yesterday, but I hope I don't have to handle the same kind of situation too much in the future either. Maybe next time I'll have a cooler head. Maybe nest time the kids will be a little more grateful. We'll see.

Born Ambitious

When Juliette was born, my friend, Jenn, gave her a onesie that reads, "Capricorn. Born ambitious. Loves to organize." We think it is hilarious. I mostly just love the picture in my head of a very small baby organizing. "Mommy, please sort my short sleeve onesies separate from my long sleeve onesies. And really, do we need all these bath toys? Couldn't we find a better place to store these?" Someday I expect to walk into the room and find her organizing the Tupperware. Maybe that's why she makes a bee line for the cabinets whenever someone opens a door. Hmmm... Maybe a little experiment is in order. Okay, so maybe she's not ready for it quite yet, but I'm really hoping that there is some truth to that onesie. I could really use some organizational help.

One thing we know for sure IS true is that she was born ambitious. All three of my kids have been a little ahead of the game on all things baby. Both Annalise and Zachary got their teeth early; they moved early; they talked early. Juliette still has no teeth, but she takes the cake for moving early. The kid was one week old when she rolled over for the first time. She could not sit upright on her own before she could get herself into a seated position. She's been "crawling" (I'll explain in a minute.) for a couple months now. And she has been standing and cruising for almost a month. Tell me, what is the use of a seven month old cruising??? The problem with all her ambition is that she's not really very good at any of this. She crawls like a simian, with feet flat on the ground. (This is the first kid we've had who didn't have to crawl only on hard wood floors, and this is the one who lifts her knees up off the ground!?) And then there's the pulling up on the furniture and cruising thing. She's really too short to pull herself up on most things. So as a result, the kid is constantly bumping her head on tables or otherwise falling in dramatic fashion, with a full spin and a flourish, looking up with a bewildered expression on her face. She is so much fun to watch; that determined face, sucking in her lower lip, her fingers gripping tight. And she's such a show off, too. She gets into the stand, does a little dance, then lets go with one hand to wave and attract a crowd. Sometimes she'll give herself a little shout out, too. She's ambitious, that puny little thing. We can't wait to see what she'll do next!

Corn Chowder

It's actually chilly today! Yay! I'm even wearing jeans! Chilly weather makes me want to make soup. My friend, Kristen, is a huge fan of the crock pot. She talked about it so much that she talked me into buying one. Now I am also a loyal devotee of the crockpot. It is the best thing for those days when I have no time, especially when I am tutoring into the early evening. Today I may or may not be able to make dinner at dinner time. (You never really know with a baby, do you?) But I decided either way, a chill in the air meant soup. Here's my recipe for:

Easy, Healthy Corn Chowder

Whatever veggies you have on hand, especially those that are about to go bad (today I used carrots, broccoli, celery, red pepper) -- chopped
About 4 -5 medium potatoes, chopped
1 onion, chopped
1 box container of vegetable stock
1 can of cannellini beans, undrained (just throw the whole thing in)

2 bags of frozen corn
About 1/2 to 1 cup of milk

A few slices of bacon (about one per person)

Spray the crockpot with cooking spray. Throw in all the chopped veggies, onion, potatoes, veggie stock and cannellini beans. (The beans add a little substance and a little protein and you don't taste them.) Cook it all day on low or for a few hours on high.
About an hour before you are going to eat, CAREFULLY use an immersion blender to blend all the ingredients into a thick soup.
Add the corn and milk. Stir it up and cook on low to heat through.
Meanwhile, cook the bacon.

Ladel into bowls, then crumble the bacon on top of each bowl. (It stays crispy this way and you get more bang for your buck.) Serve with warm bread. (Tonight we're having Trader Joe's corn bread mix. If you've never had it, it's delicious!)

By the way, my kids LOVE this. I hope yours do, too!

Perspective

One of the things that I struggle with as a mother and as a person in general is keeping things in perspective. I really need to make a conscious effort to take a step back and be grateful for what I have. Somehow, like many of us, this concept does not always come naturally to me. You would think that with all that has happened this past year with the economy, I would have more perspective on our personal finance situation. Yes, our mortgage is outrageous and we struggle to make ends meet. But we live in a great house with some of the best schools in the state. And my husband still has a job. I am SO grateful for that. You would think that with the horrible car crash that happened in our town this past year, I would be more conscious every time I got in the car. You'd think I would slow down; chill out; be a few minutes late. What's really THAT important that five minutes late is worth getting into a car accident? You would think that with the horrible fires that ripped through our mountains and STILL are not fully contained that I would be more grateful for our house still being here. Never mind the stained carpeting and the peeling wallpaper. Never mind that weird bump that has popped up on our kitchen floor (what IS that?). Never mind the often-failing water heater. You would think that the fact that I have three healthy and thriving kids would be enough. Yes, they sometimes yell or sass or refuse to follow directions. They sometimes fight with one another and drive me up a wall. But they also give great hugs and kisses, tell incredible stories and make us constantly laugh.

Yesterday I was having one of those days. You know the days I'm talking about. Nobody slept that well. I've overextended myself with the volunteer stuff and it seemed like everything had to be done by yesterday. I was annoyed with the people who don't volunteer at all and then ask for accommodations for their schedules and their lives, forgetting that we are not their employees and don't need to volunteer to help out their children. We do it anyway. My kids were grouchy; my husband was grouchy; I was grouchy. Yesterday morning, late as usual, I turned onto the main street off our little lane behind a driver with a "Drive 25" bumper sticker. "Please do," I thought. "You're only going 19!" Annoyed, I followed him all the way onto the freeway, where he proceeded to drive a speedy 45. Getting off at the next offramp, coming down the crest, out of the mountains, were five fire trucks. All five were from towns I had never heard of, far away from our little town. All five were packed full of weary firefighters, dusty and dirty. All five were full of men who had helped to save our town.

I took a deep breath, waved a wave of gratitude and slowly turned into the intersection. Perspective, Christa, perspective.

First Day of First Grade

Because of the fires, the first day of school was postponed two days this year. Annalise had fun playing on the beach and in the pool, but cried both times she heard that school would not start yet. So Tuesday afternoon, when we heard the news that school would start the next day, she was elated! (My mom and I groaned.) We got home late, and had time only to throw on pajamas and brush teeth. Of course Annalise had already picked out her first day outfit, so that was easy to set out.

The next day, though she must have been tired, she bounded out of bed and was ready early to head out the door. She hardly looked back as she kissed me goodbye and sat on the floor with her new classmates. I couldn't help but linger, not believing that she was going to be gone all day. In the end she had a great day, even though only one kid from her class last year was in her new class. She and Malia stuck together and were more than fine. But for me it was one of the longest days I've had since becoming a parent. Of course it was all compounded by the fact that we stayed inside all day. Zachary's asthma was still a problem and the air quality was still awful. He watched movies and I watched the clock. Even Juliette wasn't much of a distraction, taking a three plus hour nap. As my mom said, I felt like my right leg was missing. Finally twenty minutes before she was to get out of class, I couldn't take it anymore. We drove the one minute drive to school and waited outside her classroom. I wasn't the only one either. There were already moms there waiting impatiently for their right legs to come through that door.

I was so proud of my tired big girl. She had had her first full day of school and had weathered it just fine. (At dinner time, though, she asked if we were going to have a nap!) I know that I will adjust to having her gone. Officially, I know I'm supposed to like having all that time. I'm sure someday I will. I'm sure some days I'll be thrilled to let someone else deal with her. But in the meantime, I'm going to miss her when she's gone and that's just going to have to be okay.

Fires, Part Two

The last time I sat down to write, there was a little forest fire brewing up in the mountains above our home. It was only 5% contained, but it remained at less than 25 acres for over a day. It was scary, but not a full scale emergency. Since then, the fire has grown to be the largest in the history of Los Angeles County. Thousands and thousands of homes have been threatened and thousands and thousands of acres have been burned. Over 60 homes have been lost and two firefighters have lost their lives. It is tragic and sad and at the same time miraculous.

Our family had planned a camping trip north of Santa Barbara for last weekend long before the fires started. After much debate about going, our stuff, me being sick, etc. etc., we decided to go. We took one box of valuables (that really was everything that was important) over to my parent's and hit the road. As we drove away from town on the 2 freeway, I turned around to watch the flames and smoke rise up out of our little town, nervous that it wouldn't look the same when we returned. It turned out that being away was the best thing for us. We had a a great time at the beach, hung out with friends and, though we checked updates often on Jason's Blackberry, we didn't have to witness the terror that was going on at home. Back at home, my dad watched in horror, from his house, a fire that he thought would surely take out our neighborhood. Watching that scene now on time lapse photography, it is truly amazing that our house is still standing (as is every other house in our neighborhood!).

After the weekend, the threat to our homes had largely past, but the threat to our lungs had not. With a new baby and a four year old with asthma, we decided to stay at a hotel in Oxnard for a couple days. My mom came up and met us so Jason could go back to work. We relaxed (some), checked Facebook constantly for updates, and waited to hear about school cancellations. The kids played in the pool, jumped in the ocean waves and directed us as we pedalled a surry with the fringe on top (a funny picture with Juliette bobbing up and down in the Bjorn). It was a great extra two days of summer.

We arrived home to heat and oppressive smoke, though apparently much improved from the weekend. Annalise started school the next day and it was back to reality. But our town has been changed. Once again, a tragedy (This is the second tragedy in five months for us here -- the first being a semi truck crashing into the town bookstore, killing two people in the process.) has brought this town together. Everywhere you go, you see car windows reading "Thank you firefighters!" or "LCF Loves Firefighters." Posters and signs hang on stores and in front of people's houses. Restaurants and hair salons are offering free services to the firefighters. Business owners and regular people have been bringing food and drinks to the men and women fighting to save our town. One elementary school girl held a fund raiser (already) for the families of the two men who died. Annalise's school principal (who was herself evacuated), opted to stay in the unairconditioned high school gym evacuation center instead of a hotel or someone's guest house, so that she could bring comfort to the students who were also evacuated. We are now trying to plan a town party to honor our firefighters.

One of the firefighters from Northern California said that this was the nicest they've ever been treated, and what a great place to live this must be. It is, but it is today only because of the people who risked their lives to save our town. After touring some of the damage the other day, I was amazed. The fire lines run right up against the backyards at the end of every street in town. Literally inches from people's properties, the fires were stopped. Amazing. Not a single home in La Canada was burned. (Even my friend's in the mountains whose house was surrounded by flames somehow was saved.) These incredible people have done unbelievable things. We are truly blessed.

A Sensitive Guy

Sometimes you have doubts about some of the activities and stuff that you sign your kids up for. Sometimes you wonder if it's worth it to pay $18 a class for a gym class or if it's worth it to drive all the way to Burbank for swim lessons. Sometimes the answer is no. It's not worth it. But sometimes you have to try and take a chance. Sometimes there are real successes. This morning, Zachary did his second day at "Gym Camp" at our local MyGym, where he has been taking classes since before he was 18 months old. He LOVES MyGym. He loves to run around and climb and go on the trampoline and bars, ride on "Space Flight" and play in the ball pit. And he loves his instructors, too. He listens to them, follows their direction and has fun with them. Today was one instructor's last day. Chrystal is moving to another gym. Zachary is so sad to say goodbye to her. All morning he talked about how he wanted to see her and when he did, he gave her a huge hug. She picked him up and he rested his head on her shoulder for what seemed like a century. When we left he told her, "I'm going to miss you when I go camping!" (It is all about him still, after all.) And then he told me, "I'm going to miss Chrystal because I love her."

You never know what will work for what kid. You don't know who will make a connection with your kid, who will bring out the best in him or her. But when it happens, it feels really good. It feels wonderful to know that your kid loves somebody and that somebody loves them back. Parents can't do everything for their kids. It takes a whole team. How lucky I am that we have had such a great team.

Anticipation

School starts on Monday. My big girl will start first grade. Annalise has been anxiously preparing. Tuesday we dropped Zachary off at MyGym camp for a morning so the girls could do some back to school shopping. We bought two new pairs of shoes. And then she tried on about 30 outfits at GapKids until she narrowed it down to her favorite two. We also picked up her school supplies from school. She carefully examined each item and labelled them with stickers reading "This belongs to Annalise E." (This, of course, to separate her from all the other Annalises in her class. You know there are so many.) This morning we dropped Zachary off again and we went out to breakfast, just the girls. We had fun "writing" our own version of "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie" -- "If You Take a Baby to a Restaurant." We rolled with laughter with each different senario. Then we went home and together decorated her pencil box.

I remember so much the anticipation of school starting. Like Annalise has been doing all day, I remember running down to the mailbox twenty times on the day the letters would arrive, telling us who our teacher would be. I, too, called my friends to see if they were in the same class. Every time the phone rings she jumps up to see if it is a room 9 friend. I admit, there are friends who I hope are in her class. I am pleased with her teacher and look forward to a challenging year where she will learn and grow in a loving environment. I think her teacher's soft voice and demeanor will balance nicely with all the noise (and okay, often loud voices) she hears at home. I look forward to p.e. classes, science and art, music and lots of reading and writing.

Monday she will put on her pink (Did you really think it would be any other color for the first day?) butterfly dress and polka dot leggings. She'll tighten the velcro on those pink glittery Geox shoes. (She's graduated from Lelly Kellies apparently.) We'll brush her newly cut hair and put in a sparkly headband. We'll pack up her new pink and green lunchbox with reusable, non-toxic containers filled with healthy, tasty treats to get her through the day. And she'll throw on her old blue butterfly backpack and we'll head down the hill. She'll have her own spot in room 9 next to a boy who picks his nose and whose shoes are untied, but whose hair is pefectly coifed for the first day. She'll play for the first time on the upper playground with her friends at recess. She'll be a little scared and a little excited, but she'll make it through her first day of first grade. She'll come home a little dirty and a lot tired. And we will all look forward to day two.

Fires

For the past 24 hours, airplanes and helicopters have been buzzing over our house. Ash is covering our cars, rooves and plants. Smoke fills the air, fills our lungs. My friend and her family have had to evacuate their mountain home. We live in the foothills of a national forest. In Southern California, with our heat and low humidity often coupled with Santa Ana winds, this means that we are often on fire alert. Sure enough, yesterday, with temperatures reaching the triple digits, a fire broke out in our beloved mountains. As of right now, no homes are threatened (even my friend's) and the fire is relatively small. But a gust of wind can change everything in a second. In 1990, our next-door neighbors' lives changed in a second when an ember from a fire blocks away landed on their wood roof, catching their house on fire. Fortunately my mom and another neighbor saw what was happening in time to call the fire department (who saved much of the home) and to save the family's pet schnauzer. I came home to fire trucks and news vans. It changed my view of tragedy forever.

Growing up in this town, fires were very much a part of our reality. (It turns out that all of the above fire hazards were made far worse as the fire chief of a nearby town was also an arsonist.) Fires happened often. When the Santa Ana winds picked up, the town breathed in deep, holding our collective breath until the winds and heat died down. And yet, for some reason, I still love the wind. I love the feel of it against my face, how my hair whips around and the sound of the trees rustling. This seems so irrational to me, given where and when I grew up, until my friend Cindy explained it to me not so long ago.

When I was about eight, we had a particularly bad fire. It burned for days. Schools were cancelled. The power was off. Ashes covered the outsides and insides of our houses. I remember waking up in the middle of the night and hearing the soft voices of my parents talking. I got up, and can still feel and see the gray air in the house, the ashes falling even inside. I walked into the hallway and all our family pictures were down. My parents were pulling out important documents from their filing cabinet. Our car was packed, ready to evacuate. I had never been so scared in all my life. I remember asking my mom if we had to evacuate, would we go to the Denson's house? (They lived across the street.) I really didn't understand the scope of the problem. In fact, at that point, every street north of ours had already been evacuated, and the plan was to make a firestop at Foothill Boulevard, several blocks south of ours. Half the town would be lost. And then, for some unknown reason, the winds changed. Not only did we not have to be evacuated, but most of the town was spared. Less than thirty homes were lost to that fire. As devastating as it was to those families, it was far less horrible than we all thought it would be.

I don't remember if it was that night or the next or even the one prior. But one of those nights, with the power off, my dad somehow plugged our portable television into our car. We adjusted the rabbit ears and the whole neighborhood gathered around to watch our little town, engulfed in flames, on the national news. Somehow there was safety in this gathering. There was community. There was the knowledge that we would all get through this together. Amidst our fear, we were able to talk and laugh and tell stories. It was comforting. My friend Cindy suspects that I love the wind because I so much love the sense of community. It's true that communities really do come together in times of need. Our little street certainly did again and again as fires affected us all. But I'm glad that I live in a community where we come together in times of joy as well. Our street hasn't had a block party since we moved in. Perhaps it's time we do. These fires remind us how precious it all is. Let's celebrate.

In the meantime, I will keep my bags packed, ready to load my little family into the car and head out to safety just in case. I will watch the news, listen to the airplanes and pray for the firefighters. And I'll hold my breath that the wind will stay away.

Carpet Stalkers

I think I have a stalker. Someone is peering in my windows when I am unaware of it. I must get three calls a day from someone (different someones, too!) who wants to clean my carpets. How do they know my carpets are stained and gross? How do they know that I have a seven month old who crawls and rolls all over that carpet? Do they watch my kids paint and play in the mud and then come inside to use the bathroom, dragging in God only knows what on their feet? Have they noticed that Zachary doesn't always make it to said bathroom? Have they watched Annalise eating cornbread/tacos/spaghetti? (Yes, there is even carpet under the dining room table.) Do they watch Juliette spit up all day long? Has someone filled them in? Maybe my mother and mother-in-law have joined forces with the carpet cleaning people to conspire to get me to clean. Maybe they think that if I get at least three calls a day, it will somehow subliminally give me the message that I am a slob. For the carpet stalkers out there, I am aware that my carpets are filthy. I am aware that Juliette's clothes would be cleaner if my carpets were cleaner, too. I promise when she stops spitting up I will spring for a carpet cleaning. I promise. And when I win the big bucks... hard wood floors, baby!

"The Most Wonderful Time of the Year"

Do you remember that song from the Staples ad? It's really a Christmas song, but in the ad, they are playing that song as the dad is gleefully throwing pencils and other school supplies into the cart, gliding through the store, as the kids sulk behind him. I never really got that ad. As a kid, I certainly didn't look forward to the first day of school. As a teacher, I REALLY didn't look forward to the first day of school. And as a parent, I don't think I really ever have either. (Maybe I've just forgotten???) In the beginning of August, I was so sad that school was less than a month away. We have had such a great summer. The kids were playing great together! They were thriving on the lack of schedule! We were seeing friends! We were going swimming! We were being creative! We were using our imaginations! We were playing outside and in! We were going on field trips! I could see why people would homeschool! (Seriously, this thought actually entered my mind. Our summer was that good. I must have been smoking some major summer crack.)

And then mid-August came around. I don't know what happened. Nothing has changed. We are still seeing friends, going swimming, using our imaginations, etc. etc. But there is a mini revolt going on in our house right now. Attitudes are changing. Noise levels are changing. Tempers are changing. "It's not fairs!" and "She did it on purposes!" have increased tenfold. I don't know the scientific term for what's going on, but I think it can only be described as we are getting sick of each other. There is a reason for school. There is a reason summer is only so long. (Incidentally, it is the same reason why babies are so cute and have that whole baby smell thing going on.) Otherwise, someone would have to die. I'm not saying who. I'm just saying that families would kill each other when they have too much togetherness. Don't get me wrong, I love my kids and they genuinely love one another. But they're bored of each other. They're bored of me. It's time to go back to school. I know I will miss them while they are there. I know I will have a HUGE adjustment to Annalise being gone ALL DAY!! But I know it's best for them and it's best for me. School starts in a week and a half. I'm ready. Let's go buy some school supplies.

On My Soapbox

We started out today by getting the treats prepared again for the Skidettes. This was our third time and the kids are definitely getting the hang of it. I think Zachary's issue is mostly that he can't mulit-task. And since he pretty much talks non-stop, it is difficult for him to count and bag cookies at the same time. Regardless, I think the kids are getting something out of it. Last week we even got to see the home for battered women and children where we donate our used clothing and toys. It was great for my kids to see that real kids are benefitting from their stuff. As we went through Annalise's clothes last week, I noticed that she was much more willing to part with things than in the past. Hopefully it will be eye-opening to her that others are in much more of a need than she is. Maybe she'll learn that the t-shirt she wears once every couple of months would be more useful to a kid who would wear it every week. (By the way, for those of you in the LA area, this shelter is always in desperate need of children's clothing. So if you have any gently used clothing, toys, nursery items, etc. to give away, please bring it to my house and I'll arrange to have it delivered. These families arrive often with literally just the clothing on their backs. They are in need of everything. For those of you not in the LA area, there is a great need for donations at all shelters, especially in these tough times.)

When we took the train down to Olvera Street a few weeks ago, something caught my eye as we passed through Chinatown. We saw the offices for Homeboy Industries. Homeboy Industries was founded by Father Greg Boyle about twenty years ago as a means to get kids out of gangs by doing something as simple as giving them jobs. They started out small and have expanded greatly to include a bakery, silkscreening, a cafe and other small businesses. All the employees are people who are trying to find a life outside of gangs. Our church has been selling their bread and using their services for years, but I had never seen their headquarters. So today my mom and the kids and I took the train to the Homegirl Cafe. It is a small restaurant, but it was completely packed. I suspect that most people come to have lunch there while at a break from the courthouse or other nearby businesses. The food is healthy, delicious and really inexpensive. Much of their produce is grown organically in the Homegirl garden. The kids wolfed down their chicken tacos and then picked apart my mom's salad, eating green peppers, zucchini, jicama, mango and more. I was too busy eating my salmon taco and carnitas and apple taco (SO good!) to share. We also HAD to take home some cookies and brownies for later. While I was wandering with Juliette in the Bjorn after I was finished (and so was she!), I noticed a sign that said that their headquarters would be closed on Friday because of a furlow day. Apparently their funds are really low right now. Check out their website at : www.homeboy-industries.org. (Wow! That just turned purple on me. How cool is that!?) They are having a virtual carwash right now to raise funds. And the next time you take the train from Pasadena into Union Station, take a quick detour in Chinatown (You'll see it from the platform.) to have a delicious, helathy meal or grab a tasty treat. You'll be helping out a great group of people.

Beach Day, With a Little Help from the Village

It takes a village to raise a child. It also takes a village to support a mom through a tough time or to help her take three small children to the beach! Some days I feel a little guilty because I have my mom so close by. She is able to help me often. Today she came along with me so I could run some errands. It was so much faster to go to the vacuum repair shop, the post office and the dry cleaner without having to haul three kids out of the car. Plus, I had someone to talk to who didn't want to run down plot lines of various movies or books with me. (Today it was ET and Grandma got to enjoy that while I ran in to do my errands.) Sometimes I feel like I wouldn't be able to do it without her and wonder how she did it without the help of her family. I have resolved to stop feeling guilty about it, however, accept her help, and also accept that she and my children are also benefitting from the arrangement. I would have loved to have had my grandparents less than a mile away. How lucky my kids are that they get to have her so close.

Another person I am lucky to have in my life is my Aunt Nancy. Nancy is one of my mom's younger sisters, and also my godmother. She has always been special and important to me throughout my life. But in the past several years, she has become even more important. Five years ago, we moved my grandfather to an assisted living facility. Four and a half years ago, we moved him to a nursing home. A few months ago, my beloved grandpa finally past away. But in the meantime, we have had quite an adventure. Mostly my mom and Nancy were in charge of Grandpa's affairs, visiting him, etc. Their other two siblings live far away and weren't involved as much, so I became the number three guy. The kids and I went ususally at least once a week to visit him. And when my mom was out of town, Nancy and I would have the daily talk about Grandpa's status. And for a while, Nancy would stay at our house when she went to see Gramps. (She lives two hours away, and works one hour away.) The whole situation brought the two sisters closer together, but I felt closer to them both as well.

While I was pregnant with Juliette, I had some real ups and downs. It was a tough year for all sorts of reasons that I won't really go into here. Let's just say that some people in my life were not being very supportive. It caused me a lot of stress and worry. And then one day when I was twenty some odd weeks pregnant, with both Jason and my parents out of town, I fell. It wasn't a real bad fall, though my butt would probably disagree, but it did cause some spotting. I was upset and alone and didn't really know what to do. And out of nowhere, Aunt Nancy called. I told her what was going on. She said she was a little worried, she was about to go into a meeting and to call her back in an hour. I sat down at my kitchen table to tutor, and an hour later I looked up, and there was Nancy. She had dropped everything to come and take care of me. Jason was able to get on an earlier flight, and he was able to take care of the kids so that Nancy could take me to Labor and Delivery. Obviously everything was fine, but it was a scary situation. But in that moment of looking up and seeing her car out in front of my house, I instantly was transformed. Since then I have been able to mostly let go of the other not so good situation and realize how much I am loved. Now I realize that I have so many people who love me, who love my family, who support our decisions and who genuinely want to love and take care of our children. How blessed I am! I had been so busy dwelling on the negative, I couldn't see the love that had been right in front of me all along.

So last Wednesday, my mom and I decided that we had to get to the beach. (Yes, I said HAD. It's a real need. I swear.) We met Nancy and her best friend Dee Dee down at Dana Point. We went to a perfect little mothers' beach, with lots of soft sand and no waves. The kids had a blast swimming in the water, splashing, playing "lifeguard" and digging. Between the four of us, we were easily able to handle the three kids, taking turns sitting in the water, holding the baby and handing out sandwiches. It was perfect. I wouldn't have been able to take the kids by myself , but even if I could have, I wouldn't have wanted to. I had my two favorite "moms" with me and I feel thankful for it and not at all guilty.

So good! So good! So good!

Summer Sundays in La Canada mean music in the park. It's one of my favorite things about living in a small town. Half the town turns out, brings a picnic dinner. The kids run around and dance, do cartwheels and play on the playground. There are tons of dogs, but hardly any barking. It's really quite lovely. Last night featured "Hot August Nights," a Neil Diamond tribute band. We arrived before the band even started and already the park was packed. (Apparently "Neil" brought in the biggest crowd of the summer.) Neil's biggest fan was upfront dancing her little heart out in gray sweats from the first chord. At a certain point, a huge crowd formed in front of the stage (read gazebo). It was a mosh pit La Canada style: Neil Diamond music, a glass of wine in one hand, a child on the other hip and, as my friend Debbie added, a Coach bag back on the blanket. But, as the Evans family joined in for "Sweet Caroline," we had, "the most fun EVER!" as Annalise exclaimed. We even had our own little circle going with Debbie's family for screaming, "So good! So good! So good!" It was a lot of fist-pumping, hip-shaking good times. We may have shot Juliette's hearing, but wow did that kid have fun! It was a great reminder that life really is "So good!"

Too Fast

I don't mean to harp on the fact that Juliette is getting older, but it really is starting to get to me. A few days ago she started her first "solid" foods. Both Annalise and Zachary hated the rice cereal, hated to be fed on a spoon. I think part of me kind of liked that, liked that they still had to really depend just on me for food. Even though I am envious of my friends whose babies will take a bottle and are able to leave them for more than 20 minutes, I know that part of me still really likes being the one and only. So I think I was secretly hoping that Juliette would spit out her rice cereal and turn her back on that spoon. But she didn't. She opened her mouth and shoved that spoon right in herself! (Adorable, too!) Check off one more milestone.

Then Jason moved the holy Tivo box into the cabinet. (It was resting on a speaker and we thought it was causing some interference. It turns out HGTV just does that for some reason.) So now we have to leave the cabinet open to work the TV. Not a problem for a while, right? No, the very same day the kid crawls across the room to mess with the stereo! What is it with kids and electronics? And then, after being redirected, she headed straight for the fireplace tools! What is it with kids and sharp, heavy objects? Check off another milestone. (The milestone being first attempt to cause bodily harm... Oh! I didn't even mention pulling over the floorlamp. Wow. We really need to babyproof.)

And now it has become obvious that we need to move the poor child into a bed suitable for a baby who can sit herself up, pull up on the sides of things and reach out of her little tiny bassinette. She also stretches from end to end. It's time, I know. But this will, in all likelihood, be the last time we have a bassinette in our bedroom. This will be the last time we construct the crib, the last time I will hear every sigh and whimper during the night. It might also mean I'll sleep better (did I mention it's 1:45?), but I'm sad all the same. Already I have to deal with Annalise going to school full day in less than a month and Zachary finishing parent ed and now being gone three mornings a week. It all goes by too fast. Too fast. At least Juliette still has no teeth (an Evans record by a mile) and very little hair. I know there are many more milestones to check off. And maybe I'll be one of those moms who can't wait for her kids to get their drivers' license. You never know.

Rewards

For some reason, our family is just not that good with the whole allowance thing. Our family wasn't when I was a kid, and that tradition has somehow continued with my family. Somehow we can never remember to hand out the money, count the stickers, whatever it is, or we just don't have $2.80 hanging around. I might have a twenty and some pennies, but exact change, not so much. We tried it for a while. (The kids each even have three piggy banks -- one for spending, one for saving and one for charity. It all started out with great intentions, but never really caught on.)

Our solution came as a suggestion during one of our parent ed classes. Someone was talking about marbles in a jar. Duh! I used to do that with my table groups when I was teaching. Each table group would get marbles for awards for various things. When all the marbles were gone, we would count up the marbles and the group with the most marbles would get a reward. The reward was always to eat lunch in the classroom with me and play games afterwards. (Sounds silly, but for second graders, this is a real treat!) And it is so easy! Someone else reminded us all that marbles and babies are not such good friends, and so poker chips have become the new marbles.

We started this with our family a couple months ago. Before we fill our jar, we vote as a family as to what we want our reward to be. (We devised a long list together before getting started. The list contains all sorts of things from going bowling to a trip to Hawaii -- thank God Mommy and Daddy get a vote and are smart enough to vote together!) Then the kids get poker chips for any job that they do, sometimes for especially great behavior or for something we are working on. For example, Zachary gets a poker chip every day he doesn't wet his pants. He gets an extra one for making it through a play date (so exciting! no time to pee!) without wetting his pants. The poker chips go into one jar, so working together counts extra. Annalise will get a poker chip for watering the plants, but if Zachary helps, then they both get to put one in. I really like the system because it encourages them to cooperate and work together. They also are quick to point out when the other deserves some praise, and applaud each others' accomplishments. It has been expecially helpful to me when Jason is out of town. The evenings can be tricky with trying to get all three of them down, reading books, taking out the trash, etc. They help me out a TON and I am more than happy to reward them. The rewards are simple, and honestly are things we would do anyway (that is until the kids get Juliette voting and really campaign for that trip to Hawaii). But I think these adventures have so much more meaning since they earned them. After each trip, we have thanked the kids for earning the trip that we got to enjoy as well. So far we have gone to La Brea Tarpits, out to ice cream and Sunday we took the Metro to Olvera Street. Really simple pleasures, but each night before bed, Zachary wants us to tell him about La Brea Tarpits. That's a great reward for us, too.

Grrrr

I try to be a proactive parent. I like to anticipate the times when behavior won't be at its best and make a plan. I try to give lots of positive reinforcement when I can, use a calm voice, dispense lots of affection. Notice I said "try". There are days (lots of them) when the calm voice and anything positive goes right out the window. Lots of days I feel like I'm just trying to keep my head above water. Today was one of those days. (And it's only 4:00!) It was one of those days where I feel like I'm just spinning my wheels -- unload the dishwasher so that I can load it again; strip the sheets so I can make the bed again; clean up the toys so we can scatter them across the room again. And let's not even mention the yelling, hitting each other on the head, tormenting babies, etc. As Alexander says, "Some days are like that. Even in Australia."

We started off the day with our first attempt at volunteering. My mom has been involved with a group for thirty years or so that makes lunches for those in need. My younger brother used to go with her every week, starting when he was three years old. My older brother and I would go to help when we were on vacation from school. It was a simple, easy activity, but one that is very fulfilling as well. I've been wanting to do some volunteering with Annalise, in particular, for a while, but with all three kids, it's tricky. I needed to find something that we can all do together. So today, we gave it a shot. My mom arranged for us to do the sweets for the bagged lunches to be made tomorrow. (The group meets earlier than they used to and the idea of all of us in the kitchen was less than desirable.) All we had to do was bag cookies and treats in plastic sandwich bags. Annalise was a machine. She loved it and did a great job. Zachary bitched and complained the whole time. "I'm tired. I want some water." (We were there all of 45 minutes.) Meanwhile he kept explaining to his sister why she couldn't have a cookie. "These are for people who don't have any food. You have food. These aren't for you." And then jumped at the chance to have half a cookie himself. (At least he got the concept.) Juliette sat in her Baby Bjorn, kicking her little legs and making pterodactyl noises. So it wasn't a huge success, but we got the job done and both kids said they wanted to do it again next week.

The rest of the morning consisted of hitting each other on the head, screaming at each other, some slammed doors, waking up a napping baby, some threats, a screaming mommy and two kids being sent to their rooms. Some days that is the only way to get things back on track. Tomorrow I'll try again with the calm voice and positive reinforcement.

Letter Writing

I was talking to an old friend today. (She's not old -- we've just been friends since the second grade!) This morning she was going through a box of old letters. They were mostly letters from high school and college friends. She was enjoying reading them and not enjoying reading them. They brought up all sorts of teenage crap (for lack of a better word), but also a lot of love. She had received all sorts of "love letters" from friends. It got us talking about our letters and how they are a record of a life. In this digital age of e-mails, we have no permanent record of our emotions and friendships. (Well, maybe I do since I never delete my e-mails! Are they still really there? Do I really want to weed through it all?) What will remain for our children to rifle through after we have come and gone?

A few months ago, my grandmother's sister past away. Her daughter had recently gone through her old pictures and letters. After Aunt Milly's funeral, my cousins (her grandchildren), my mother and I gathered in our hotel room to absorb it all. There were so many gems we found! Amongst them were a thank you note from my mother, age 8, with some wacky story about my grandpa that she hadn't remembered. Also we found a letter from Milly's daughter, Joan, written at about age 30. The letter could have been written by me. It was about this turning point in her life, becoming a mother, finding a new role in life and still feeling somewhat like a kid herself. We lost Joan seven years ago to breast cancer. What a beautiful reminder it was of the spirited woman we loved. We also found a letter written by my grandmother telling her sister she was pregnant with my mom. It was a very cute letter written by a young woman so different from the woman I knew. The letter also professed my grandpa's assurance that the baby was a boy! (Oops! That took him three more tries!) It is a great piece of history that we can hold in our hands.

In this land of facebook, phonecalls, instant messaging and e-mails, I wonder what my kids and grandkids will look at after my funeral? (Certainly not their own baby books. Guilt trip. Guilt trip. Someday they'll get done. OK, started.) Perhaps this blog will somehow remain. It will be my love letter to them, a picture of me at this age; a picture of them as children. In the meantime, my friend and I have vowed to write each other a letter, with pen and (really nice) paper. And I will store it in a box for my children to find many, many years from now.

Mom's Granola

I made my favorite granola today. Yum!! It is my go-to snack when I'm in a hurry and my favorite breakfast, too. Because it has fat, carbs and protein, it keeps you filled up for a while. I love granola, but it is so expensive and often has questionable ingredients. By making my own I save a ton of money and I know exactly what is in it. Plus, it is really easy. This recipe is adapted from my mom's recipe from the 70's. Her recipe called for twice as much oil and honey. I've cut both of those. Also, I've substituted flax seed meal for the wheat germ. (You should probably use both, but I don't always have time to go to Whole Foods or Granny's Pantry and I can get flax seed meal at Trader Joe's.) And I need the Omega 3's from the flax seed. My brain needs all the help it can get! Here's the recipe:

Mom's Granola

1/4 cup oil
1/4 cup honey
1/2 cup water

5 cups (or one whole container) oats

3/4 cup brown sugar
1 cup flax seed meal
1- 1 1/2 cups chopped nuts or seeds (I use walnuts, almonds and pecans)
1/2 cup coconut

dried fruit (optional -- any kind. I like chopped dried apricots, apples and cranberries.)

Preheat oven to 350.
Wisk together the liquid ingredients.
Put oats in a big bowl and then add the liquid. Stir to conbine well.
Then add the next four ingredients and stir to combine.
Bake on a large, lipped cookie sheet or two 9 by 13" pans for 30 - 40 minutes. Stir every 10 minutes or so and watch it closely at the end because it can burn.
Leave it on the counter to cool and get crispy.
Add dried fruit, if desired.
Store in an airtight container.
It makes enough to almost fill my 3 quart container. That's a lot of granola!

Great over yogurt with fresh fruit or just with milk. Also, here is a recipe for our new favorite dessert:

Faux Peach Cobbler

vanilla ice cream
fresh, ripe peaches
granola

Heat up a grill pan over medium heat.
Cut the peaches into quarters.
Grill the peaches, cut side down until slightly soft, turning to do the other side. (Look for the grill marks.)
Serve ice cream in a bowl. Top with peaches and granola. So tasty!!

Enjoy!

Catfight

Yesterday, I was talking to some friends, one of whom is trying to quit smoking. The other friend was advising her to just take it one day at a time. Each day, wake up and say, "Today, I'm not going to smoke. Tomorrow I can smoke if I want to, but today, I won't." I thought this was great advice, and reminded me of how I got through breastfeeding with Annalise those first few months.

I had a terrible time breastfeeding in the beginning. I was horribly engorged, bleeding, and in SO much pain. It was excruciating for me. Add that onto a terrible case of baby blues, loneliness, helplessness and really not knowing what the hell I was doing, and I was miserable. But I was, as always, stubborn. I was determined to breastfeed, and so I was going to breastfeed! And I handled it like I was quitting smoking or drinking. I took it one day at a time, two days at a time, a week at a time then a month at a time. By three months, I wasn't miserable and crying every time that ferocious tiger-like baby latched on. And then at four months, Annalise got teeth. And then I was miserable again. But that didn't last long. And that kid nursed for 22 months! Zachary for 25! Knowing how hard it was for me in the beginning, I'm quite proud of this!

My friend asked me if I like breastfeeding. And the answer is an unequivical yes. Especially now, with all the chaos and rush here, do this, rush there, yell at that kid, help this one with this, help that one with that, it is so nice to have that quiet time. It is such a nice excuse to just sit and be. There is no rushing an infant through a meal. There's no bribery or threats or "sit down in your seat"s. It's just us. Juliette and Mommy, enjoying a meal together. Dr. Sears says in one of his books how much Martha loved to nurse in the middle of the night. When I just had Annalise I thought this was complete BS. But now that I have the three of these monkeys, I totally get that. It's so nice to have that quiet moment of bonding.

I also think breastfeeding is empowering. I love my body so much more now than I ever did before (when I had great abs, no stretch marks and no need to wear a bra). Seriously, why didn't I appreciate that??? Now my hips are wider, my belly still sort of looks like I may be a little bit pregnant, I have lots of lovely stretch marks and, well, boobs. But my body is AMAZING! I have carried three babies for a total of 27 months, pushed them out and sustained them, quite literally, using only my body. That really has to be the biggest accomplishment of my life... keeping a baby alive! That's pretty incredible!

So, yes, I love breastfeeding. But somedays, it's a pain. It would be easier if Juliette took a bottle. I could go out with friends or tutor in peace and quiet or go for a swim. And there are times when mealtime with her is anything but relaxing. I'm not to the point yet of making dinner while nursing. (My mom did. She rocks!) But we often are wandering through the house, tying shoes, reading, helping with homework, buiding with Legos, you name it, while nursing. And then there are the times when it is quiet and peaceful, but apparently Juliette needs a little more action. Sometimes I feel like I'm in the middle of a catfight... There's kicking and scratching and hairpulling; a little screaming thrown in for good measure. There's no biting yet, but give her time. That'll come soon. But I love nursing that feisty girl. I'll take the abuse along with those beautiful smiles, those quiet moments for as long as they last.

Unsupervised

Zachary and Annalise have started taking swim lessons at our local YMCA. We have a three month membership there (purchased at the silent auction at Annalise's school) and are sort of trying it all out. I've had kind of mixed thoughts on the whole thing, but after today, I'm really not so sure.

Zachary's swim lesson goes from 9:35 until 10:05. To get him there, we have to park down the block, load up Juliette in the baby bjorn, go through the turnnstyles, go in through the girls' locker room (I won't bother to explain the very complicated locker room rules), give him a shower, walk him out to the pool, walk out through the girls' locker room, through the turnstyles and around the corner to the observation room. Today their lessons were in the big pool because the training pool was too chilly. At five to 10, the other two parents (there were only three kids today) got up to go get their kids. Since I have to take two other kids with me and there isn't a lot of space to stay and wait, I decided to wait until 10 to make the trek back to the pool. But I saw his teacher giving the kids a high five indicating the end of the lesson, so I hightailed it back down the hall, through the turnstyles, back through the locker room to the pool. And there was Zachary, standing by himself with another woman leaning over him asking him his mommy's name. I came up as he was saying, "Christa." I looked at the clock and it was 10:01. His instructor was onto her next lesson (a private lesson with an adult). I often let things slide, but here is my kid crying because he's ALONE on a POOL DECK and his lesson isn't even over for another four minutes!

So I decided to say something. This is not easy for me! It is not my personality type to stick up for myself and his insructor is easily thirty years older than I am. But it's my kid, and I'm much tougher with them! So I waited for her to come back to the end of the pool and said, "I thought his lesson was over at 10:05?" She looked at the clock and gave me some bs about starting earlier and being in the different pool. I said, "Fine, but couldn't he have waited on the steps of the pool?" After some back and forth, she finally apologized and said it was her fault. It was. I had every right to be upset in this situation. But what if it had been "my fault" and I was late to pick up Zachary? (Every now and then people are late; especially when it takes half a day to get from the observation room out to the pool.) Does her responsibility for him end at 10:05? Is it then OK for her to leave a four year old unattended on a very busy pool deck with four locker rooms and hence four different ways to leave the pool area? A. You just don't leave a child unattended by a pool EVER. B. Some strange man could grab him (no one would even notice a crying child in all the chaos) and take him through the boys' locker room. By the time I got out to the pooldeck and noticed him gone, it would be too late. This is not an OK policy. My mom said I need to write a letter. I think she's right. It would be way too easy to lose a kid that way, and totally senseless. So far, I'm thinking we won't renew that membership.

Zachary's Construction Site

I am not a very organized person, as I said before. But I can throw a good party and Zachary's fourth birthday party turned out to be a great success! I have three main rules for parties: 1. It has to be age appropriate. 2. Get help when you need it! 3. There has to be a theme. If there's a theme, it all falls into place. Our themes in the past have been:
jumping (monkeys and frogs for Annalise's second)
water (Zachary's second)
cooking (Annalise's third)
racing (bike races and also "Lightning McQueen" for Zachary's third)
"Fancy Nancy" (Annalise's fifth)
cheerleading (Annalise's sixth)
All of the activities, party favors, food (when possible) and decorations fit the theme. This is the only way I can get a handle on the organization. The theme for Zachary's fourth was construction. Here's what we did:
Invitations:
I always have a picture of the birthday kid on the invitation. It makes it personal and is a good record for me. I have them pose in a way that sets the stage for the party. This year Zachary posed with his tool box, hard hat and a construction vehicle. It read "Dirt, paint, trucks and more/ Zachary is turning four." At the bottom of the invites, we said, "Come prepared to get dirty."
Decorations:
We bought caution tape at OSH and strung it all around the house, across the front door and garage and along the path to the backyard. We also used the orange cones from last years' racing party. All the table covers and utensils were yellow and black. I made a few signs that looked like construction signs, reading "Zachary's Construction Site", "Hard Hat Area" and "Party Zone." And that's it! It was very simple.
Activites:
1. The main activity was "building houses." Actually Jason had built the houses in advance using huge cardboard boxes. The kids used washable terpera paint to paint the houses and glued on construction paper shingles.
2. We made mud out of our planters and stuck Zachary's various construction toys in them for the kids to play.
3. We covered different sized boxes with construction paper and the kids took turns knocking them down with a wrecking ball (tennis ball on a string).
4. I bought from Oriental Trading some construction sticker pages. (I bought these kind of as an afterthought, but most kids ended up doing them.)
5. We set out the train table with Legos on it.
6. We spread our infamous huge pink flowered beach blanket (which was my parents' beach blanket and before that their king-sized bedspread) just inside the doors on the living room floor. We spread out construction books and puzzles. Originally I thought I'd put it outside under an umbrella, but it was so hot we put it in. It was a good decision because it was SO HOT!
Food:
The party was at 10 in the morning because it's so hot here in July. So we had bagels, watermelon and Jell-O cut into "bricks" (the effect was poorly executed by me and totally lost on the kids, but they liked the Jell-O!). We had two cakes -- a yellow construction truck cake (my first attmpt at something like that and it was not too bad!) and a "dirt" cake (yellow cupcakes frosted as one big cake with chocolate frosting, crushed up Oreos and gummy worms). I promise I'll have Jason post pictures!
Help:
Ben, one of my junior high school tutoring kids came over to help. He and a friend acted as "catchers" for the bike races last year (to catch the kids before they raced down the hill!) and were a huge success. This year he came to help us set up and helped the kids paint and re-stack blocks for the wrecking ball. Having kids help is HUGE! He's so helpful and the kids LOVE it! (We've hired girls to help paint nails, etc. for the Fancy Nancy party and had the Varsity cheerleaders come for that party.)
Favors:
The main party favor was a very small Lego kit with a constuction worker and cement mixer. But when they walked into the party, each kid got a Home Depot waste apron with their name on it and a plastic hard hat also with their name on it. To fill their pockets were a carpenter's pencil, a mini flashlight, a blow-up hammer and stickers.

The party was fun, surprisingly mellow and pretty simple. All the activites were basically free, aside from the cost of paint and paintbrushes and the sticker pages. We're already scheming for next year. (And Annalise wants a rock star party for her seventh! Yikes!)

Six Months

A few days ago Miss Juliette Camille turned six months old. I cannot believe how fast this time has flown past me. When Annalise was a baby, I had a really hard time. It was a long adjustment to a new lifestyle. I felt lonely since I had few friends with babies. I joked that the UPS guy was my best friend. He was the only one in our neighborhood around during the day and he would wave at me as I walked and walked and walked. Annalise was also a difficult baby; I was unsure and insecure; and it was just a real difficult time for me. I couldn't wait for that baby phase to be over. When Zachary was a baby, I was much for confident in my abilities. I was no longer lonely. And I realized how fast that time would go by. But I was adjusting, once again, to a new lifestyle -- that of being a mother of two! He was also a difficult baby and I still don't think I would have said I loved the baby phase.

Jason and I put off for quite a while having a third child. We knew we wanted a third, but the timing just never seemed quite right. It is tough to balance all the different relationships we have going on and adding a third child to the mix can seem overwhelming. Still, I had two brothers whom I adore. I can't imagine my life without my younger brother. And, as my friend, Cindy, pointed out, so many of my best friends are the third child. I think that my main reason for wanting a third child was to give the gift of another sibling to Annalise and Zachary. I know how much a sibling can enrich and color a life. So we went for it, and Juliette is the result of that decision. Now that she is here, though, as much as I feel like she is a gift to her siblings, her father, her grandparents, everyone who meets her (she really is a beam of sunshine), she's all for me. She lights up my world in ways I never realized she could. I was so nervous when Zachary was born that I wouldn't love him as much as I loved Annalise. (This seems ridiculous now, but it's how I felt.) I didn't have these same fears with Juliette, but still, you never know how you are going to feel about someone. But my baby, my sweet third child is a dream come true for me. I cannot imagine my world without her. She makes me smile and laugh and cry. In the middle of the night I just want to hold her a little longer. What if we had changed our minds? What if we decided that two was just enough? It wasn't. The decisions to have each of our three children have been the best decisions that Jason and I have ever made. She is a gift to our family, a gift to me.

This time around, I know how fast six months flies by. I have loved every minute of it!

Cuddle Time

Yesterday I wrote that we don't have a family bed. Apparently that's not entirely true! Sometime in the middle of the night Annalise crawled into our bed, leaving me sandwiched between her and Jason. (And I mean sandwiched -- the girl is a heat-seeking missile. My side of the bed was mostly empty as we all snuggled up on Jason's side.) I didn't sleep very well because of the sandwich (and Jason's pillow is way too high) and Juliette has been having sleep issues as well. But that is a whole other post. I was about to be annoyed and grouchy until I thought that I probably don't have too many years left of snuggling with her in bed. And then I remembered that in high school my mom used to climb into bed with me every morning. "Move over," she'd say, just like I say to Zachary whenever I cuddle with him. My mom and I would lay there a few more minutes, cuddle and talk. It's one of my favorite memories of my mom at that time of my life. What a great way to connect with a grouchy teenager -- corner them when they are happy to not go anywhere. A few more minutes in bed? Sure! I'll have to remember this when Annalise is more interested in boys, friends and her cell phone than she is in me. Hopefully cuddle time has a lot more years left in it. In the meantime, I'll try my best to savor all those special moments, even if they come at the expense of some much needed sleep.

About Me

So I realized as I was shredding carnitas for dinner (Oh! I should put recipes on here, too!). Okay, that's not what I realized -- that's just how my brain works. Anyway, I realized that in my "About Me," I didn't really put anything about me. It was all about my kids. (Telling, isn't it?) But since this blog is really about them, that was my intention. So who am I? I am a wife, a mother (really a mommy or a mama -- my kids aren't allowed to call me "mom" yet -- that'll make them seem old!), a daughter, a sister, a friend. I'm other things, too, but these are my most important, and favorite roles. Seven years ago teacher would have been near the top of that list. That is still a part of my life, but in a much different way. I am full of contradictions, too. I'm organized about some things (I can throw a kids' birthday party with the best of them), but terrible about others (don't mention baby albums in my presence). I like to think I'm thoughtful, yet I'm often terrible at remembering people's birthdays and thank you notes often get put on the back burner. I mostly subscribe to the attachment parenting philosophy (my babies have never really cried anything out) but we don't have a family bed and I don't nurse my kids much beyond two. We eat mostly organic, healthy food, but we have eaten our share of "Old McDonald's" as Zachary puts it. Juliette wears cloth diapers, but wears disposables, too. I try my best to be open-minded and nonjudgmental, but that is a struggle that is ongoing. I love to dance and sing, but hardly ever in public, and only then when it's dark and I've had a few drinks. I was a swimmer in my former life, too, and always feel at home in the water. The beach is my home. I'm realizing this summer that I love not being scheduled and so do my kids. And, (I have to put this in here for Cindy, Jenn, Kristen and Patty) I love tomatoes and I think watermelon or pineapple make for an awesome dessert. But I love ice cream, too.

Sex Ed

So here is the issue that we are currently dealing with in the Evans household. Annalise's BFF was recently told by a friend at school how a baby is made. Of course BFF brought it up to her parents, who then got a book and filled her in on the details. (They had to -- she already had been told the nitty gritty.) Fortunately, her parents also told her that this was something to discuss only with her parents. But she told Annalise that she knew how a baby was made and that she couldn't tell her how because this was something to discuss only with her parents. So now Annalise is asking. She has asked before, and we have kind of passed on the question by giving some details but telling her it's quite complicated and we didn't think she was really quite old enough yet to understand. This satisfied her for a while, but now that BFF knows (and she's only 3 months older), that doesn't fly anymore. We have a very open household. My kids know all about their bodies. She knows about periods and eggs and all that -- just not the actual act. I'm just afraid she's a little young. She just finished kindergarten for goodness sake! But I think the conversation will have to occur soon. BFF's mom gave me a great book that's really on her level. Deep down, I know it will be fine, but my inner prude is totally coming out!