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.