It didn't suck

It actually didn't occur to me that this is the end of the decade until I started seeing all the "best of" and "worst of" lists floating around everywhere.

So I started checking them out, and clearly there was a theme: they're not so happy.

Time magazine called the first 10 years of this century The Decade from Hell, complete with a crying baby in a party hat sitting in a sea of confetti.

I get it. I do. Starting off with the Y2K ridiculousness, followed by the catastrophic events of 9/11, Katrina, the Tsunami, the market crashes, the situation in Afghanistan and Iraq, George W. Bush, the housing and car industries, Bernie Madoff...the list goes on.

So I hope it's not inappropriate for me to say that this decade was, for me personally, the most life-altering. In the absolute best of ways.

The '90s were all about establishing my career and moving around the country and making several remarkably dumb "relationship" choices. However, I did meet David in May of '99 when I was moving to California, and we started dating in November of that year, which set up the '00s. Or whatever they're called.

My humble list:

2000: Got engaged, which was momentous, because I never thought it would happen for me. Ever. My mother had already mentioned, when I'd turned 30 and didn't have a boyfriend, that she'd given up on having grandchildren. Nice, huh? Anyway, we also bought our house.

 

2001: Got married on a beautiful, summer-like day in December on the beach.

 

Honeymooned in Costa Rica, where we stayed at the same hotel as then-New York Mets catcher Mike Piazza. Talk about having a tough time getting away from your job. Even though I knew Mike, I didn't want to be a dork and ask him to take a picture with David. We like the candid shot better (squint and you and you can see Mike sitting in the background).


 

2002: The team I covered won the World Series in my last full season as a Major League Baseball beat writer. David and I started talking about starting a family.

 

2003: Flew David out to spring training in Tempe, Arizona, in March because it was, you know, TIME. I got pregnant, and Sawyer was born in December, nine days late. He was worth the wait. His middle name, Cole, is after my grandfather Coleman, who died that summer and never got to meet him (the picture of he and I was taken at the rehearsal dinner for my wedding. He was super thrilled to have flown across the country for the occasion).

 
 

2004: Worked part-time in Features while completely freaking out over enjoying my first year as a Mom.

2005: My job at the newspaper ended, my career as a journalist over - a loss I'm still mourning. ... Sage was born in a crazy, exhilerating surprise home birth, the most amazing experience of my life.

 

2006: Continued adjusting to life as a full-time stay-at-home-mom of two kids. Wondered if I'd ever shower on consecutive days again. I joined a running group to get me out of the house and exercising.

2007: Ran my first half-marathon, then decided to run my first full marathon, raising almost $5,000 for The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Also ran it in honor of my father, who passed away a few months prior.


 

2008: Ran my second marathon. Two weeks later, I was pregnant. Turned 40 on the last day of the year, big belly and all.

 

2009: Xander was born in a planned home birth, completing our family. In other news, Sawyer started kindergarten.



My life is so crazily different than it was 10 years ago. I can't imagine not having my kids, as much as they drive me insane lately. But how can you describe to someone without children the joy you get from the simple stuff, like Sawyer calling me earlier today from Costco to excitedly report that he has his first loose tooth?

I don't know what the next decade will hold. By its end, the kids will be 16, 14 and 10. It will be filled with school and friends and activities and I'm sure I'll be in the car more than I'll be in the house. The baby phase will be long left behind. I will mark the last time I pick them up in my arms.

And me? I'll be fifty. 5-0. FIFTY!!

Wow.

Well, here's looking forward to the next 10 years. Let them be as miraculous as the last 10.


(photo by the amazing Angela of pbkisses.com)

Just a little more sugar

Happy Sweet Holidays!

Shamu, Flipper and Santa

We finally, finally made it to Sea World.

We'd been rained out in our prior attempts, but this morning, there was nothing but blue sky and sun. So after a frantic morning spent unwrapping gifts - the kids loved EVERYTHING - we packed up and drove down to San Diego.

 

First stop? Shamu. The kids were more than ready.

 

It was worth the wait. These animals are amazing. Their sheer size and atheticism, to say nothing of their beauty, is just a wonder to watch.

 

NO idea how these people sitting in the front rows enjoyed being soaked by the chilly water, since the temperatures barely hit 60 and there was a cool breeze.

 

Look how small the trainer looks next to Corky, who is more than 40 years old (atta girl!)

 


We walked around after the show. There was plenty to see, and the park wasn't as huge as it looks on the map. It's definitely more manageable than the San Diego Zoo as far as hiking distances between exhibits. They have several small aquariums, touch pools, and my favorite - the dolphins.

 
 

Wanna know why he's smiling? Because I TOUCHED HIM! Oh yes I did! Patted him right on his rubbery little head. First time for me. I'm guessing it was more of a thrill for me than him, but could he BE any CUTER?!?!

Anyway, at one point Sawyer wanted to see the bat rays, and Sage wanted to go to Sesame Place where they have a huge playground. So I took Sage, and on the way, I got sidetracked by this horrible noise.

It totally cracked me up. Reminded me of opening a bag of candy in a roomful of kids. Also enjoy Sage's whining. Blends right in, and you can see why my head spins around on a daily basis.

Xander, meanwhile, was perfect. Despite having a pretty bad head cold, he was totally chill. He hung out with us during the show, then was happy to sit in his stroller and take in the scene the rest of the time.

 
 

On the way out - we spent six hours there - we got the kids their promised cotton candy. As Sawyer sucked the sticky blue sugar off his fingers, he said, "This is the perfect ending."

He was right.

A Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

 

Christmas Came Early

I didn't expect the faces.

There was Melissa, with her long brown hair and open smile. Jason, with his big brown eyes. And Justin, all spiky-haired and standing on his head on the couch.

When I decided to adopt a family for Christmas, they were simply names written in black ink on a sheet. I knew the parents were young. They had two boys, ages 3 1/2 and 1 1/2. And, clearly, they were in need.

They had come to South County Outreach like many, many others, for a little help, especially this holiday season.

Families can then ask to be adopted. Individuals, families, groups and businesses fill out a form with SCO and are assigned a family to help. I came in after the deadline, so a couple of the workers there looked through computer files and a large notebook to try to match me up with someone.

I wanted a family with young kids. I thought that would help get my children enthusiastic about it. Plus, I get what little kids like, having three of my own.

There were no families left in my town, but we found one in a neighboring town. They spoke English, which was helpful, as my Spanish is not so good.

And that was it. I got their phone number and called.

E couldn't have been more excited. She said her husband has had a tough time finding steady work. She's in school to become a medical assistant.

It was the first time she'd ever done this. Same with me. But SCO had a list of suggested food items, so we went over that.

Then I asked what her kids needed.

Diapers. Shoes. Clothes.

What about toys, I asked?

The older boy loves Thomas the Train.

But she didn't really want to request anything. I have my own kids to take care of, she said. I told her that she can at least ask, and I'd see what I could do. She told me her heart was pounding so fast, she was so thankful, so thrilled.

Now all I had to do was shop. She called me back a couple days later, though, with a question: her niece and nephew's family were not adopted. Instead of buying stuff for her and her husband, could I buy for these two kids, ages 6 and 4?

Of course, I told her. So I shopped some more. And soon I realized that I'd probably spent a little more than I could afford. So I made some tough choices, but in the end, only set aside a tee shirt, some play-doh, a sweat shirt.

I decided to keep the shirt and jeans I'd bought for the dad, since E told me he never bought anything for himself, just put every dime toward things for their kids.

David went out last night and bought the food. A ham. Potatoes. Peas. Corn. Pumpkin pie. Milk. A loaf of bread. Enough for them to have a wonderful Christmas dinner, plus lots of leftovers.

We headed over late this afternoon with a bag of wrapped toys, a bag of clothes in snowman boxes, a box of 200 diapers, and all the bags of food. Sawyer contributed a baggie of his own Hot Wheels cars he no longer plays with.

E opened the door and invited me in as I set the toys next to the tree. She went to help David unload the car. And there was the grandmother, crying because of the kindness bestowed upon her family.

And that's when I saw them. These beautiful kids, excited by the strangers bearing gifts. They came right over to say hi, but didn't even ask about the contents of the bags (I don't want to guess what MY kids would've done if someone came over with presents for them).

All I could think was I wished there was more. Now that they were in front of me, no longer just names on a page, I could imagine exactly how they'd look upon opening their gifts. Would they like them? Would they smile? I hoped they wouldn't be disappointed, that they'd remember this Christmas as a happy, happy day.

E wanted to take a picture of our family, as her husband had to work and couldn't be there. Then she asked to take a picture of all the kids - including ours - in front of their white Christmas tree.

She asked us to stay and eat, but of course we didn't want to intrude in that way.

It was time to go, to let them enjoy their holiday. Before we left, Melissa, the six year-old, handed me a bag.

A gift. For us.

I hugged the mom, the grandmother, the kids.

Wished them a Merry Christmas.

It was dark now, as we loaded our kids back into the car.

We drove away, far richer than when we'd arrived.

Kitchen Genius

Stretching my culinary abilities, I told the kids I was going to put something very special on their toast this morning.

I told them how when I was Little Girl Mommy, my mother (yes, that's right, Grandma) used to give me just the same thing. We called it Bear, because it came in a little glass container shaped like a bear.

So I got out the cinnamon and sugar, and mixed them together (I KNOW! Just call me Julia!) and sprinkled it on their buttered toast.

Sawyer had questions.

"Mommy! How can you remember something that happened when you were my age? That is SO LONG AGO!"

Yes. Yes it is. Like, even before the time of the dinosaurs. But some things you don't forget. Like yummy warm toast with butter and cinnamon sugar.

The kids loved it. They each gobbled up three pieces.

"Daddy! Mommy thought this up in her OWN BRAIN!!"

Astounding development. Right here. In my own kitchen, people.

A masterpiece. And it didn't even come out of a box!

Cry Baby

The pediatrician recommended we let X cry it out at night. At almost 9 1/2 months, he's more than capable of sleeping through. And yet, he's done it only a handful of times.

The crib in the room problem is not going to resolve anytime soon. This kid is also the lightest sleeper ever. When I come in to get ready for bed, the creaking of the floorboards makes him bolt upright.

I can't even fathom how I'm supposed to move him into Sawyer's room, he of the Must Listen to Michael Jackson CD Before Bed.

Friday night I told David I was going to sleep on the futon in his office and he could ignore the screaming in our room (David could sleep through a locomotive racing through our hallway). But I was fighting a cold, David was playing XBox in his office, so I decided jus to sleep in my own bed.

X cooperated by sleeping until 5 a.m. He woke up again at 6 because Sage came in and coughed. But then David actually took X and kept him away for three hours - I didn't get out of bed til 9 a.m. This is unheard of, blogosphere! It's the longest I've stayed in bed since X was born.

We had high hopes for Saturday night. He woke up at 10:30 (see squeaky floorboards) then went back to sleep - til 1. So we let him cry. An hour later, he finally fell back to sleep.

Sunday HAD to be better, right? RIGHT?!?! Yeah. Not so much. He woke up at 12:30. At 2 a.m., he was still shrieking. I gave up. Picked him up. Nursed him. Put him back in his crib. The screaming continued. Got him out again. Nursed him. Put him back in his crib. He kept screaming.

He just wanted to lie in our bed and nurse. Unfortunately, I was not down with this plan long-term, and he was settling in.

Finally, at 3:30, I went downstairs and slept on the couch. He fussed for about 10 minutes and - with me out of the room - fell asleep.

I really, really need sleep. And I feel guilty for this. I mean, X is so little. I feel horrible listening to him sob, trying to figure out why Mommy is not coming, when clearly she's lying RIGHT THERE!

I guess I keep hoping he'll figure it out on his own.

Maybe tonight?

Oh, Barbie, what happened to you?

Today my mother-in-law came by. She wanted to go to Target with Sawyer so he could pick out a birthday gift, as she was sick and couldn't see him on his actual birthday.

Sawyer said Sage also had to pick out something. So David took them and his mother into Target while I ran over to Michael's.

The kids soon ran to meet me. Sawyer was waving his new toy. I know you will all be SHOCKED to learn he chose yet another pack of Bakugan.

And there was Sage, so very excited about HER early Christmas gift. She chose a Barbie.

Now, I was distracted, paying for my purchases, so it took me a few minutes to actually look at the Barbie. And that's when I realized this wasn't the kind of Barbie I was expecting.

Oh no. This was Prostitute Barbie, complete with spiky heeled pink FM boots and a crotch-baring miniskirt.



I mean, I can get past the permanently pointed toes, the completely ridiculous waist size, etc. of a regular Barbie. But this was Just. Too. Much. So I turned to my husband, and quietly asked, "WTF?!?!?!"

He said that's the one she wanted, that he tried to talk her into a more, um, modest Barbie, but she was set on this one, and his mother paid for it, so...it was Sassy, the Barbie Fashionista. She has 100+ poses!

I really don't consider myself a prude. Seriously. But this was just beyond what I consider an appropriate doll for a four year-old. Of course, Sage says she likes her pink-striped hair and her pink boots and her pink skirt and her pink sunglasses. Oh - and she has a belt!

I know the doll isn't going to turn my daughter into some future prospect for Tiger Woods. I guess I just figured I had a few more years left of Strawberry Shortcake and Disney Princesses.

I can only hope.

Priceless

I just could not stand the idea of one more Bakugan in our house.

I'd decided at the last minute to have a small party for Sawyer's sixth birthday. Nothing fancy (or expensive). Just pizza and cupcakes at the park after school.

I knew I'd be asked what he wanted for a gift, and since all he wants are Bakugan, I knew I had to come up with something else.

Thing is, this kid needs nothing. He already has a bazillion Bakugan (if you have no clue what they are, be thankful. They're magnetic plastic balls that open up into characters, and they battle with cards that are worth certain points. Makes no sense? You really want to know? Then click here). He does play with them, but seriously. Enough already. I also was not excited about how whiny he's become when he asks for a new toy and we say "No." Tears, the whole bit.

My child was ungrateful. It rankled.

So I decided that in lieu of presents, I would find a charity for which to collect donations. When you don't belong to a temple or church, it's a little more challenging to find ways to help.

I asked my friend who seems to know a lot about different charities. She sent me a list. I researched all of the organizations. Some were all about toys - which was great, but I thought it might be asking a lot of a just six year-old to see the toys - and then have to give them away.

I chose South County Outreach, a local charity that includes a food bank. I drove down there to check it out, and got a tour of the food pantry.

It's really amazing. They're helping around 900 families a month. The economy has not been kind. Clearly not everyone in Orange County is living like those women in The Real Housewives.

I told Sawyer the plan. At first he wasn't too enthused, but once we got to talking about how he'd be helping kids who didn't have food, he got on board.

I sent an email to all the parents of the kids Sawyer invited, asking if they would consider donating. A few brought a gift for Sawyer anyway, but everyone brought canned and boxed food items.

A neighbor also donated two big bags of books and another bag of toy cars and trucks - SCO likes to keep a selection of books and toys for kids who come in with their parents and have to wait, sometimes for more than an hour, while their parents fill out paperwork. The children can then take a toy or book home.

Today was the first chance I had to take Sawyer and Sage down to the food pantry to donate our items.

I told them that they were about to do something really important. I'm not sure they entirely got it. They've never had to worry about where their next meal was coming from. They've never had to do without - unless you're talking about a trip to Target where they weren't allowed to buy anything.

I backed the car up to unload. There were many families waiting in line, as it was the last day to pick up their Christmas dinners and gifts for the kids. There was a very happy little girl who'd just learned she could take home a used stuffed Barney.

I took out bag after bag of food from the car. They weigh all the donations for tax receipt purposes.

Our total? Sixty-two pounds of food donated. Thanks to Sawyer. I was very proud.

We took a short tour of the pantry so I could point out to the kids all the shelves of food and all the volunteers sorting all the donations.

Then it was on to the front office so we could arrange the books. As we were finishing, a woman came over. Her son loves Thomas the Train. She was thrilled as I handed her a book about him, and then picked another for her daughter.

We left. Of course I was happy, but you know, you always wonder what more you can do. There were so many families, with little kids. Grateful for a book, a toy, a can of corn, a box of spaghetti.

Not just a lesson for my children. It's a lesson for me, as well.

Blessings count.

It's right there in Sharpie

My mother is crafty. This apparently is a gene she did not pass on to her offspring.

She can knit, embroider, and her latest passion is quilting. She's made beautiful quilts for Sawyer and Sage. So she decided to make one for X.

She just sent me this awesome quilt, in fun colors, with the whole back done in a bright blue minky material.

It's customary for her to sign her work with a patch sewn to the back. I think it's cool, so years from now, the kids can have something personal to remember her by.

So as I went to wash X's quilt, I read the patch.

And I about fell over.

 

They keep growing, like it or not

I had another thought.

Last night, I posted, logged off, and went to bed - where my brainwaves continued despite my strong desire to become immediately comatose.

I thought about why I always seem to be sad when Sawyer has a birthday, why Saturday night I went into his room and watched him sleep for his last few moments of Five.

With every year that passes, the more separate he is from me. He can already dress himself, brush his teeth, turn on the tv, pour his milk, even run into his classroom by himself on a rainy-day, curbside drop-off.

He shakes off my hand if I try to hold it longer than just across the street.

Soon he will be locking himself in his room and communicate only via grunts. He will not need me, not in the way he does now. And of course this is a great thing, it is a mark that I am raising an independent, self-sufficient child.

And yet.

Right now I'm thinking he'll never be Five again. Was this the best Five possible for him? Childhood is so short. So precious.

Will he look back later and remember that this was the year where our family changed, when X entered the world and his mother became the Grumpiest Mom Ever? Will he remember his trip to the hospital for his allergic reaction, or being sent to his room. Again.

Or will he remember playing til dark with the kids in the neighborhood, trips to the beach, the zoo, the aquarium, making new friends at school, and, yes, even having fun with his sister, new brother and Daddy and Mommy?

He might not recall many specific events, but he will remember whether he was happy.

I wonder.

I make a conscious effort to savour this time with X. I need to remember to do it with my older kids, too.

Six

 

A hand and a finger, people. That's what you now need to show how old you are.

Six.

I don't even know how it happened. The other day, you stood next to Xander at the front door, and you looked huge next to him. And yet, it was yesterday that you were just a baby, so I'm not clear how you got so ginormous overnight.

You've actually been telling everyone that you're six for awhile now. Your friend from school called you on it, asking ME how old you were. And when I said you were five, he told you you were lying - and you actually got upset. Because for some reason, you believed you WERE six by virtue of your birthday being so close.

Well, now it's official. You gave me six hugs today, just to make it so.

You started school. Kindergarten. Which now means the years are measured in minutes, not weeks or days. Ready or not.

This has been quite a year, for our family and for you.

You got a baby brother. You weren't entirely excited when I brought him, just two hours old, into your bed to wake you up that morning in March. But as we knew you would, you soon fell in love with him. You're excited to show him the ropes. And there is nothing better than making him laugh.

 

You learned to swim. REALLY swim. You can do laps of the crawl, breast and back stroke. You were just learning to dive at the end of the summer. I can't wait to see how you'll progress next summer and we wonder if swimming will be your Sport.

Although, you're actually pretty good at soccer. You played AYSO and even scored a couple goals. And you're a fast runner, which shows, yet again, how much you take after your Dad and not me.

 

You can read short sentences of sight words. Yyou can write them, too. A VERY exciting development and one you're (rightfully) very proud of. Considering this time last year you were not holding a crayon correctly, it's amazing progress.

You are a very affectionate child. Unfortunately, this has gotten you in trouble a few times: in pre-k, for kissing girls; in Karate, for kissing a girl; and in kindergarten, for, you guessed it, being overly touchy-feely.

It's probably better than shoving or punching other kids, but we keep reiterating that kissing is for Family Only. We want you to be a friendly guy, and you are, but we're trying to teach you about appropriate boundaries.

Hugging is for family, too.

 

Other than Bakugan, your current obsession is with Michael Jackson. You listen to a CD that Daddy made you every night before bed. Sometimes you'll go up in your room during the day and I'll hear it playing, and when I peek in your room, you're dancing.

What's that saying? Dance like no one's watching? That's what you do. I hope you always will.

Happy, happy birthday. You are our light.

Nine Months

 

You're in the home stretch, buddy! Three more months til you're a year. Who are we kidding - it's three months til Mommy gets to eat FOOD, GLORIOUS FOOD again (as if you'll give up nursing the second you turn one. HAHAHAHAHA!).

I know, I know, I swore with you I wouldn't look too far ahead. So let's just concentrate on you. Now.

You only gained half a pound this past month, and you even dropped in your height percentile. Your doctor wants you to really ramp up on solids. But it's hard, since we are so limited. No pasta. No baby yogurt. No bread. No avocado.

Last night I gave you chicken and black beans and you kept opening your mouth for more like a little baby bird. You developed a small red patch on one of your cheeks, but otherwise, didn't seem bothered.

It'd be awesome if you would consider sitting in your highchair for more than three minutes. As much as I enjoy wearing the food you like to smear on me when I hold you for meals, it'd be much easier for you to practice eating finger foods if you were plucking them off your tray instead of my palm.

Our little morning routine involves you sitting on my lap while both of us crunch on Rice Chex. You also love potato chips and if you see the bag you will chase whomever has it, your little hands slapping on the floor as you hurry over. Who can blame you for wanting all that salty, greasy deliciousness? Hey, I've got to get fat on him, right? Don't judge me, internets!

You are no longer Mr. Smiles. Well, for your family, you are. But now you prefer to quietly observe. You are very interested in everything that goes on around you, but you are acting your age: don't even THINK about handing me to someone else, Mommy, or I will SCREAM!

There is nothing you won't attempt to pull up on, and you cruise around the furniture with ease. There's also nothing you won't try to put in your mouth, and you protest loudly when we have to remove crayon tips, paper, and these little burrs that come in on the dogs' fur.

A couple weeks ago we visited our friend Ciaran and her family. She has a 22 month-old who wasn't so sure about having to share toys with you. At one point he took this whiffle ball you were playing with and went to stand by his dad.

You crawled right over, grabbed the boy's shirt to pull yourself up, and grabbed the ball. A tug of war ensued, until he was talked into giving the ball to you.

He did, and you got the hugest smile of victory on your face - and then dropped the ball and moved on.

I was impressed by your, well, ballsiness, in going after what you wanted. No passive baby, you, unlike your older siblings. Guess that's another mark of a third.

Can't wait to see what you'll do next.

 

Eight years

I had leftovers for lunch. Had the same thing for dinner.

This is what happens when you have a baby who relies on you for his nourishment, so that you can't really go out for any amount of time. And even if you did, you can't eat anything anyway.

Happy eight years to us.

On this day in 2001, David and I married under a perfect sunset on a warm winter's night in Laguna Beach.

 

Did we really imagine what married life would be? Or were we just looking forward to our Costa Rican honeymoon?

 
 

We got engaged the year before. On a helicopter in Kauai. I was VERY surprised.

 

The next 12 months were spent planning, planning, planning. The wedding was like my second job. It paid off; we had our perfect day.

Then what? It's been eight years, one house, two dogs, three kids. There have been fabulous times where I can't believe a person could be so happy, and days when I wanted to get in the car and just drive. Alone. Somewhere. Anywhere.

I remember at my sister's wedding, the rabbi talked about love and marriage being like an ocean, with all its depths, and its ebbs and flows.

I believe that. Just like I believe that when you feel adrift, the tide will always pull you back to shore.

 

Dance Fever

Sage's recital was this weekend. It wasn't the big to-do that it was in the summer. We didn't have to drop $75 on a dress they'd wear for about 7 minutes during the recital, thereby it becoming the Most Expensive Dress-up Play Dress Ever.

This time, they wore leotards they already had. The santa hats and legwarmers were from Target (natch) and the reindeer antlers from Walgreens.

Of course, they were all still adorable.

In the first dance, for some reason Sage was fixated on her friend next to her for awhile in the beginning. But she does eventually turn her head..then look out!



One of the girls did not want to do this dance because she did not care for the words "I'm getting nothin' for Christmas." She did it anyway. Sage knew "it's just pretend. Right, Mommy? RIGHT?!?!"

The Giving Season

The holidays always make me think about what my family and I can do to help those less fortunate.

Charity was also on the mind of Jen Cooper, creator of EllieBellieKids and editor of the amazing emag Classic Play, which just released its giving issue.

Take a look. There are some great ideas from joyababy on how to get your kids into the giving spirit, and stories on how even the little things can make a difference.

Hopefully this issue of Classic Play will inspire you and your family!