Resolve

In retrospect, 2011 was a hard year.


While there are, of course, no guarantees that one year will be markedly better than the previous, I am entering 2012 with a great deal of hope and anticipation. Or, maybe it's that I'm just glad to put 2011 in my rear-view mirror.

Glen and the kids and I are well into our second year of the commuter family arrangement that we voluntarily entered in November 2010. It hasn't gotten any easier, but it most certainly has not gotten any worse. Trite though it may sound, I have found that absence truly does make the heart grow fonder, that our time together as a family is much more precious and important, and that while we remain incredibly and impossibly busy regardless of whether we are together or apart, every moment is a gift.

Yes, 2011 was a difficult year; we witnessed friends being diagnosed with terrible illnesses and endure long hospitalizations; we've seen lives taken away at an incredibly young and horribly untimely ages; and, like pretty much everyone else, we're managing our fair share of economic challenges, thanks in no small part to unanticipated car problems and other life expenses. Among these struggles, it's often easy to discount some of the smaller victories that we've been blessed with this year, as well: the kids are in amazing health, love their schools, and (as far as we can tell) are happy, well-adjusted, and bright-eyed. Glen and I are gainfully employed, happy to be working, and very good at what we do. David's musical talents have absolutely exploded; he loves to perform for his friends, he loves his drum and guitar lessons, and his self confidence has grown in tandem with his musical prowess. Elizabeth, it would appear, is ready to jump into the academics and scholarship with the same (if not more) amount of gusto that David did, and celebrates her inner princess/ballerina/diva with tremendous aplomb. More than ever this year, we've been reminded of just how fantastic our friends and neighbors are. And, did I mention that the kids are healthy?

So it is in this spirit that I offer up my short but meaningful list of personal resolutions for 2012. None of them involve anything that will remotely establish lasting world peace, identify a cure for disease, or identify an even modestly reasonable GOP presidential contender. But, with luck, they will make an impact on the people who are most important to me in the whole wide world: Glen, David and Elizabeth.

1. Better living through the $.99 store - No, I'm not kidding. There is much to be gained for clipping coupons, reading the circulars (you know, those newspaper-type things that come in the mail that I typically and indiscriminately toss aside), and hunting for bargains. I'm not looking to save thousands upon thousands of dollars. Rather, I'm just seeking a brand new groove when it comes to how I spend my hard-earned money.

2. Make the house a place I want to hang out in - Glen has often correctly noted that while his idea of relaxing and unwinding is to hang out at the house,  mine is to get out of the house. I admit that I'm a big fan of window shopping and store browsing. But we both find this pattern to be curious. And, relating back to resolution number 1 (see above), it's a pattern that is not necessarily conducive to finding and maintaining economic Zen. So, what is it about the house that I need to change, or alter, in order to make it my own personal get-away? I realized about a week ago, that the layout of our house, and the furniture within it, is such that there is no good place to sit down and kick back within the vicinity of where David and Elizabeth usually play. We have, for example, a pool table in the loft area on our second floor. It's in this space where David and Elizabeth do some of their best playing with Legos, Barbies, etc. Their bedrooms are rather small, so they don't have a whole lot of room for imaginative play. But there's also no space for a comfortable chair for me to sit in and from which I can enjoy my kids enjoying their childhood. We're not sure we're ready to part with the pool table, but Glen and I both know that, if home is where the heart is, then there must be a solution. Do not get me wrong: the fact that we have a roof over our heads, and lovely furnishings within the walls we call our home, is a gift and a blessing. I am grateful for this in and of itself. I need to get to know my own home better, and become one with it.

3. Really, do I NEED to be this busy? - Those who know me well that I am the type who raises my hand to volunteer before the neurons have fully synapsed in my brain and enabled me to consider the consequences of such actions. True, most of the things I volunteer to do tend to be 1) for David and/or for Elizabeth, and 2) ultimately a lot of fun. But the fact that I spend so much time responding to David and Elizabeth's requests to play with a stern, "not now!" or "I don't have time!" or "can't you see I'm busy?!?!?" is not lost on me. It bothers me. I hope that 2012 will be the year in which I find the balance between what absolutely must get done at any given time, and what can wait until later.

4. (Re)consider the food I put into my mouth - While browsing through the January 2012 issue of Real Simple, I came across a write up of the book, The Kind Diet, written by Alicia Silverstone (yes, the actress of "Clueless" fame). While Ms. Silverstone clearly has a social and political agenda (which includes making clear her distrust and dislike of the Dairy Council, the meat and poultry industries, and anything else that has to do with the processing, selling, or consuming of any product that comes from animals), she makes a terrific case for eating more grains, more veggies, more fruits, and more non-meat products. To be fair, it's highly likely that the recipes included in her book are available to Ms. Silverstone primarily because she can afford a personal chef; the ingredients of many are entirely foreign to me. But, when she begins espousing the benefits of a greener diet, she makes sense. So much so that, when Glen and the kids and I went to Elephant Bar with Glen's brother and his two daughters, I found myself looking for menu options that were loaded with green stuff.  It is highly unlikely that 2012 will be the year in which I eschew white flour, cheese, refined sugar, and diet Coke. But it may be the year that I learn to cook with more beans, try a bit of tofu, and put more veggies on David and Elizabeth's plates, regardless of whether or not they eat them. We shall see.

5. Game night at home - Last night, Glen and David and I played two rounds of the classic board game "Clue." Not only had I forgotten how much fun that game is, but I also forgot how nice it is to have an evening that doesn't involve doing homework and laundry, and that has a high entertainment value at NO cost. Now, granted, I can only focus on games on the Wii console for a limited period of time, if for no other reason than this is an activity that Elizabeth is just not quite old enough to engage in (but, OH how she wants to!).

6. Play time - Related to resolutions number 3 and 5 (above), I lament the fact that I've become too old to play with Barbie dolls in the imaginative and carefree way that I could when I was around Elizabeth's age. Back then, I could make up stories and scenarios with my dolls that could entertain me for hours. Now ... not so much. I get way too wrapped up in the mess that these fashion-forward dolls, with their copious accessories, make throughout the house. But, isn't that the point? Are not toys intended for kids to use and go nuts with? And, I'd be fibbing if I were to deny the fact that I still enjoy combing the synthetic hair that is weaved on to each Barbie doll's plastic scalp. That is almost meditative. That, and getting them dressed. I desperately want to chill out about the messes the kids make, and relish the fact that we're giving them a life that enables them to love and cherish their childhood. And I want to relax enough to play with them more.

7. Spend less time on the computer - Yeah, right. For heaven's sake, that's not going to happen.

Santa Claus: Man or Mytth?

It is typical for Glen, the kids and I to put up our Christmas decorations right after the tryptophan-induced coma that comes with the consumption of large quantities of turkey on Thanksgiving Day has worn off. And so it was the case on Friday that Glen retrieved all of our Christmas storage bins from the shelves in the garage, thus heralding another season of Advent for our family.

The kids were particularly eager to get the tree up this weekend. While Glen and I both wanted to wait until everyone was awake, alert, and in the holiday spirit - and not dive in to the project groggy at 8:00 on a Friday night, David and Elizabeth would have none of it. After much negotiation, David and Elizabeth won. Tree trimming was a GO!

And what a splendid tree we have this year! Because we'll be spending most of Christmas week up in the Bay area this year, we decided to decorate the 4-foot tall artificial tree that we've had for several years. This enables us to keep the tree lights on (on a timer, of course) while we're gone and with little risk of setting the house ablaze. David and Elizabeth were in their element. This year, they each took particular interest in the collection of ornaments that have been designated as their very own. Since the time they both arrived on this earth, Glen and I have collected numerous ornaments that are personalized, dated, and significant of any number of milestones in their lives so far. Of course, David has about twice as many ornaments as Elizabeth, but I assured her that she'd catch up in due time. Once the tree was up, Elizabeth insisted in leading us in a prayer to Santa Claus, which included requests for Barbie dolls.

In keeping with our holiday spirit, the kids and I saw the movie "Arthur Christmas" yesterday. What a fantastic movie it was! Well worth the price of admission, and then some. It was such a wonderful story about the true meaning and spirit of Santa Claus and Christmas, with the take-away message that every single child is important. Oh, we just loved it!

But I was not prepared for the philosophical discussion that was about to take place once we returned to the car after the movie was over.

"Mommy," David asked, "do you believe in Santa Claus?"

"Absolutely!" I replied, not adding, "and you're talking to her right now."

"Well," he continued, "some people don't believe in Santa Claus, but I do."

"Me, too!" chimed Elizabeth.

"Mommy?" David asked, "some people say that Santa Claus isn't real."

I didn't answer right away, and I was a bit taken aback by my momentary feeling of conflict. But, I dove back in, and said, "of course he exists. At least, I sure hope so."

"Well," David continued, "some kids say that there is no Santa and that their parents put presents under the tree and just put on the tag that it's from Santa but it's really from the parents. But you wouldn't do that, right?"

Well, yikes. There it was, staring me in the face: the dilemma of how to navigate the Kris Kringle issue. Running through  my brain ever so briefly were the following arguments:

Option #1: Stick with the story. The kids are little; they still believe in the magic of Christmas; they still have beautiful imaginations that don't need to be jaded and squashed so early; they deserve to have the reassurance that Christmas is about miracles, magic, reindeer, Santa, and snow (well, the latter would be more applicable were we still in Chicago).

Option #2: Fess up. Lying is bad.

After a thoughtful, well-argued five-second debate took place deep within the confines of my brain, I went with ... Option #1.

Now, that is not to say that, come Christmas Eve, I will attempt to recreate the sound of reindeer hooves on the roof of our apartment in Newark. But David and Elizabeth will indeed have a present from Santa - not mommy and daddy, but SANTA - under the tree on December 25.

God and David

On Sunday evening, Glen and the kids and I made good on our weekly tradition of driving to Ontario Airport. Indeed, it was to drop Glen off at Terminal 2 and see him off to his new work week.

Sunday evenings seem to be particularly difficult for David. Once we get home from the airport, and the kids are tucked into bed, there is something about the darkness and quiet of the evening that, to my little boy, starts to get a little spooky. More than once, David's Sunday evening tuck-in ends with him in tears, and me with little to no clue as to how to manage it.

Usually, on such evenings, David simply and understandably laments the fact that Daddy - his hero, his buddy, and his Lego partner - is up north once again. David often ponders our options. "I want to live where Daddy is," David will often say, "but I love Foothill!" More than once, David has said flatly, "I'm very conflicted."

And, so it was that on this past Sunday evening, David the Brave was bummed out. Within about five minutes of kissing him goodnight and heading to my desk in our home office to do a bit of work, I heard a little voice call out, "Mommy? Can I talk to you?"

I was a bit taken aback; David has never started a conversation with, "can I talk to you." I was at once flattered and a bit worried.

So, of course, I went right to his room, and sat down on the edge of his bed. I stroked his hair, and said, "what's up, sweetie?"

He hesitated and stammered a bit, but then said, "I don't know if you'll believe me but ... but ..."

"Tell me what's up, Punkie. Tell me anything! Go for it, buddy!"

David continued, "something in my heart tells me that Daddy's in trouble."

Of course, by that time, MY heart was getting concerned. I took a quick glance at the clock in David's room, and mentally noted that Glen was probably boarding the plane at that time.

"Do you mean in trouble for being on the plane?" I asked.

"Uh huh," he said with a very shaky voice. "I just ... I just feel like something is wrong. I know that I just feel more bad right now because I really miss Daddy," David cried. "But my heart is beating so fast and I'm just worried that he's not safe."

And this is where the amazing part of our conversation started:

"And I know," David said, "that God is watching me and knows that I'm worried."

One word came to mind. WOW.

"Well," I said, trying to say something comforting, genuine, and respectful of David's real worry, "I know that God is watching over all of us! That's the great thing about Him"

And thus began a 20-minute discussion about God, Jesus, and how David might get to understand the lessons that they teach. I decided at that moment to multi-task, and so I pulled out the Cub Scout Wolf Handbook, and flipped to the section on "Duty to God" (or Achievement 11, for those of you in the know).

David and I talked about Faith - what it means to be faithful, what faith is, and who we know that shows a true spirit of faith in their actions. I believe the name of Santa Claus was dropped once or twice.

He studied the pages in the Handbook that showed all of the different emblems of the Scouts Religious Emblems program. He wanted to know what each and every one was. We came to the emblem for our faith, Christian (or, Episcopalian, to be more specific), which is a crest with a red cross on a white field,, with the words "God and Me" etched at the top.

"David," I asked, "would you be interested in doing the religious emblem program? It's entirely up to you."

"Yes!" he said quickly. "I really, really believe in God and Jesus!" (how much more sincere and innocent and wonderful could that be?)

So, I promised him that the next day I'd send an email to our priest at Church of the Ascension, to ask if the Church does the Boy Scout's God and Me program.

By the end of our chat, David had calmed down considerably. I stepped out briefly to check the status of Glen's flight at Southwest's website, and confirmed that they were boarding.

"David, I will keep an eye on the status of Daddy's flight, and I PROMISE to let you know when he's landed safely."

"Even if I'm asleep?" he asked. "You WILL wake me up, right?"

"Right." At that moment, too, I sent a brief mental prayer to the God of Airplanes and Flight Travel, requesting, in short that Glen be safe and secure on his flight, and reminded the God of Airplanes and Flight Travel that tonight would be a REALLY BAD night for Glen's plane to have any technical malfunctions. "Please, not tonight, of all nights," I quietly whispered.

By 10:30 p.m., Glen's flight had indeed safely touched the tarmac at Oakland International Airport. I tiptoed into David's room to announce the news.

"David ... David? Sweetie ...? Hello ...?" I said, shaking him gently by the shoulder. No dice. My little angel was fast asleep, finally calm, and dreaming contentedly. But, still, I whispered to him, "Daddy landed! He's safe and sound. All is well, sweetie."

I breathed another quick prayer to the Heavens, in which I simply said, "thank you!"

Adventures of an Eight Year Old

Today, my first born, my original baby (if you don't count Spike, my first pooch), the little person who officially made me a "mommy," turns 8. I am filled with both incredible pride and joy and wonder at the amazing little person he has become, and a slight tinge of longing for those delicious months when he was still small enough to pick up with one hand.

David was born at approximately 9:40 pm at Cedars Sinai Medical Center on October 13, 2003. He shared his birthday with my dear friend, Robert Lee, who is one of my closest friends from high school. David is small, but mighty, and BIG on personality! If my musings and bragging on earlier blog posts have given no indication, I'm incredibly proud to be his mommy.

David's entrance into the world was, of course, sprinkled with flair. I awoke very early the morning of October 13 (a Monday), having to pee. This, of course, was not an unusual occasion by any means, given that pregnant ladies have to pee all the time. However, this time was, in fact, a bit odd. In my groggy stupor, I noticed that, well ... I kept on peeing. And peeing. And peeing. And, I thought, "Hmm. I wonder why this is? Maybe I have a really full bladder."

Then it occurred to me: my bag of water might have broken. Or, more to the point, the little person inside of me, whose gender at the time was unknown to anyone, had just busted it open.

So, I did what any practical, data-driven, research-oriented person would do. I went to my computer and Googled, "bag of water breaking symptoms."

Within 30 seconds, I had my diagnosis. It was time to act.

I padded back over to the bed where Glen, bless him, was still in blissful slumber.

"Rise and shine, dude! It's time! My bag of water just broke."

A pause.

"H...hh...huh??" he replied, still pretty much out cold.

"Let's roll. It's on."

That was all it took. Glen instantly sprang into action, suddenly and very much wide awake. My suitcase for the hospital was about 80% packed, so getting my last items together was not a problem. I made my self presentable while Glen fed the dogs and let them out for one more nature break, and we loaded up into my old Jeep. We were off. It wasn't even 4:30 am.

Within two hours, I'd called my wonderful friend and assistant at Scripps, told her to cancel my meetings because I was in labor ("you're kidding me, right?" she said), and was hooked up to a pitocin drip to induce labor. My sister and mom arrived soon after, and then we waited.

Fourteen hours, and one epidural later, a beautiful baby boy was in my arms. And, my goodness, he was sweet, tiny, and had the most beautiful strawberry blond hair I'd ever seen. Because Glen and I had opted not to find out the gender of our first born, it was like opening a present at Christmas. And, perhaps most importantly, he looked like a wee version of my dad, also named David, who'd passed away three years earlier.

Glen and I had been going back and forth on what to name the baby, and had a bit of trouble coming to a firm and set decision on a boy's name. Were it a girl, that was easy: Elizabeth was set (but, as we later learned, she'd be coming along three years later). We'd tentatively agreed on Michael, which met our standards for something traditional, classic, and a tad Biblical. But, when my new little boy was placed in my arms, and his little blue eyes popped open, the name decision had been named for me. With feet still in stirrups, I motioned Glen to me, and whispered, "I HAVE to name him David! Please, please, please, please!!!!!" Now, Glen is a wise and practical man. He knows better than to argue with a woman who is immediately post partum is still in a compromising position on the gurney. "No problem!" Glen replied like a champ. And, thus, David Thomas Hastings came to be.

Eight years later, David is all boy. He runs around the house, skipping, jumping, turning, leaping and basically just happily spazzing out, all the time. It's no secret that his current passion is drumming, and can happily spend time banging on his junior drum set, teaching himself new rhythms or practicing the ones he learned at his weekly lesson. His culinary pallet is expanding, and he's more likely to try new foods now than he was even a year ago. He is an amazing big brother to Elizabeth, and serves as her guide, defender, negotiator, and, on occasion, sparring partner. He gets his easy-going demeanor from Glen, and his moments of anxiety from me. He loves school, his friends, and (thank you, God) math. He can construct pretty much any Lego set. Any.

I simply could not ask for a more wonderful son.

End of Summer (Or, Packing A Whole Lot into One Weekend)

Something about the summer months seems to have transformed my kids ever so slightly. David, in particular. He had the opportunity to spend some quality "guy time" with Glen up at the apartment in Newark two weeks before school started. Elizabeth and I hung around doing girl stuff. You know ... shopping, eating, spending tons of cash at the L.A. County Fair on rides. That sort of thing. But Glen and David had a magical time together; and when they were not hanging out (like, say, when Glen was at work), David enjoyed some intense and fabulous quality time with Meme and Pepe (also known as Glen's parents, Mary and Bob). Trips to the Lego Store in San Jose were added to the mix. It was a good time.

Perhaps, too, it's the transformative effect that second grade has had on my little man. This little boy is turning out to be quite the little man. For example: on Friday evening, David devised a small fort in the hallway on the second floor of our house. It was comprised mainly of the kids' indoor play tent, a few stools, their kid-sized Pottery  Barn chairs, pillows and a sleeping bag. It was a pint-sized Man Cave. He was in his element. On Saturday morning, the kids woke up, and proceeded to play as usual, while Glen and I tried our best to sneak in a few more minutes of shut-eye. As is typical, a small amount of bickering could be heard from outside our bedroom. Then crying. Then both David and Elizabeth stormed into our bedroom.

Elizabeth: "David won't let me play in his fort!"
David: "But it's my fort."
Elizabeth: "But I want to put my sleeping bag in!"
David: "But, I have it all arranged and I'm not sure it will fit."
Mommy: "Work it out, you two."

Not five minutes had passed, when I overheard David proclaim triumphantly, "Elizabeth! We made it work! Good teamwork!" He strode happily into our room again, and declared, "Mommy! Elizabeth and I worked as a team and with a little bit of work now both of our sleeping bags fit! Come take a look!"

Teamwork? Purposefully put into action by a seven year old? Who knows what it means?

WHOO HOO!!!

And, lo and behold, their new fort could accommodate two people ... er, kids.

At the ripe old age of 7.11, David never ceases to amaze me.

But his - and his sister's ... and his father's - ability to still be a kid is very much in tact, which is a good thing. Case in point: fast forward a few hours. I did a few errands in Los Angeles that morning, and upon my arrival home, the house was very quiet. Too quiet.

"Hello?" I called.

"Upstairs!" called Glen.

I hesitated, but went upstairs anyway. Greeting me at the top of the stairs were seven Zhu Zhu pets, lined up in a row, and staring at me with their beady, plastic eyes. This disturbed me. From under a now much larger fort, I saw movement. And then slowly, through a crack between blankets that served as an extended tent, came the barrel of a Nerf machine gun.

I would have been toast had the Nerf device not malfunctioned.

The kids - and their father - couldn't take it anymore, and fell into side-splitting giggles. All of them were still in their jammies.

The deliciously kid-like behavior continued well into the rest of the day, where we spent the better part of our evening, and money, at the L.A. County Fair. There were hot dogs to eat, grilled cheese sandwiches to absorb, popcorn to munch, cherry sno-cones to spill, corn on the cob to hork down without any shred of dignity, and, of course, ice cream to savor. Ferris wheels, merry-go-rounds, climbing walls, mini-roller coasters, and log rides all beckoned. Oh, and we took in a Victoria Justice concert, too.

By the time we took Glen back to the airport on Sunday night, it was a weekend well spent ... one that reminds me of how precious these moments are while David and Elizabeth are still little, while also reminding me of 1) how very grown up my David is becoming. 2) how much sweeter it is when Glen is home, and 3) how much I cherish family time.

No news is good news ... I guess

Wow. It has REALLY been a while since my last posting.

Suffice it to say that while things have been busy, they've also remained nicely consistent and predictable. David is deeply ensconced in his summer camp program at The Claremont Club, and has found a new passion: tennis. Mind you, it's not as strong a passion as his drumming, but nonetheless, he's loving it. Elizabeth has discovered the joys of trying on multiple outfits in the evening, and the even greater thrill of dumping said clothes onto the floor for mommy to pick up and wash. Again.

We have added two dogs to our household on a temporary basis, but not at the same time. The first, Maggie, a spry Cairn Terrier mix, came to us at the end of June, as her family is moving to the UK for a year for an academic sabbatical. Maggie hung out with us for about six weeks, and transitioned to her "permanent/temporary" home last week. It was the first time we had a girl dog in the midst. I am pretty sure that by the end of her stay, she and Lager had become a couple.

Zach is here with us for two weeks, now. His family is vacationing in Europe. He is an incredibly handsome Welsh Terrier. He is a happy little guy who jumps up and down. A lot. My nickname for him is "Boing Boing." I have yet to capture him mid-air on film, though.

Glen celebrated his 40th birthday on July 22, and we feted him with a grand luncheon Stone Brewery in Escondido. It's become somewhat of a birthday tradition for him to bike to Stone each year, and have the three of us meet him, feed him, serve him fine ales, and then drive his sleepy self home. This year was no exception, other than that we were joined by 25 other people who love Glen almost as much as we do.

David and Elizabeth, before the party starts

Glen's birthday cake, customized with sugar figures of our family (and bikes). This view: Glen and Davd

Same cake, but showing Janel and Elizabeth (and bikes)

Glen takes it all in

The birthday boy triumphantly foists the empty 9L bottle of St. Fuillien over his head

Glen and I celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary on August 4, and managed to sneak away to San Francisco (the actual CITY) for two days. Thank goodness for in-laws who are more than willing to let their grandkids hang out. David and Elizabeth had a high time at Memé and Pepé's house while Glen and I spent August 4-6 clocking more than 20 miles of walking throughout the city. It was good training for the Susan G. Komen walk I'm doing next month. Lots of eating was involved, to, with shout outs to Bix and North Beach Restaurant.

Glen and Janel, on a hike around Land's End in beautiful San Francisco

We're going on nine months of the commuter marriage adventure. And, yes, the passage of time has not made the complexities of household management any easier. Yet, our schedules and patterns are a lot more predictable now. I can tell, for example, what kind of mood the kids and I will be in within five minutes of climbing out of bed each morning. Coupled with that is the very real responsibility of setting the tone for the day. That job clearly falls in my lap. Our mornings are better when I address grumpy children and mild tantrums with unabashed humor. The more I make them laugh, the easier most any situation is diffused. Of course, this gets difficult when I run out of jokes. Goodness knows I'm no Jim Carey. But this evening David and Elizabeth were highly entertained when I began mimicking Elizabeth's high, squeeky whiney voice in a purposeful falsetto. At least to my ears, I was sounding (for a few minutes, at least) like the Muppet Prairie Dawn (see photo).

These months of temporary solo parenting have also prompted me to consider, out of necessity, what it is I need to do to take care of myself. I realize that one of the things irritates me the most is a messy house. Yes, I can manage the clutter of free-spirited play time. They need to play, and they need to run around the house, chasing each other with Nerf swords. But, at the end of the day, I really like it when they put their things away before hitting the sack. For me, a tidy home leads to peace in the kingdom. Negotiating clean up with a seven-year-old and four-year-old is not for amateurs. Such conversations can get complex and testy. I fear that the pressure I put on them to keep things straightened up may, in fact, be squelching their creativity, or that it may make David feel an added responsibility to do the work for both himself and his sister, because he's the oldest. So, therein lies the rub of finding that perfect balance between keeping it tidy and keeping it real.

And then, every so often, I'm reminded of how good life is

I don't know why I torment myself with reading stories on the Internet that will inevitably make me upset and, quite possibly, sick to my stomach. But so it was last Sunday evening, I sat down at my computer to catch up on the latest Facebook postings of my friends.

I belong to one Facebook group, "The Four-Legged Stool," that is comprised of a community of individuals from a myriad of religions and faith traditions. One article that had been posted told of the Jewish heritage of the actor/director, Michael Landon.

Now, my family and I, having traveled to Hawaii about twice a year when I was growing up, are very familiar with Michael Landon and his family. They stayed at the same hotel as we during those idyllic summer holidays. While his kids were brats, Mr. Landon was very kind to everyone he met. He even waved to me once, which of course prompted me to do nothing else but giggle and run shyly away.

So, of course I clicked on the link to read the article, which was very good. But within the article was a reference to the movie, "Schindler's List," and another reference to a scene in the movie that involved a small Polish girl. I made the mistake of reading more about this heart-wrenching scene, and I really wish I had not.

But then, stupidity getting the better of me, I started doing a bit of web browsing on children of the Holocaust, and came upon the story of the children of Izieu. About 44 children were kept in hiding in a small, beautiful little orphanage in France after their parents had been picked up by the Nazi's. Of course, the gestapo found these sweet little ones, took them away and killed them.

I'll spare additional gory details of their senseless slaughter, but suffice it to say that, looking at the names and ages of these beautiful little kids, I was sick with anger. David and Elizabeth are exactly at the ages that these children were at the time of these horrors.

Then, of course, we have the current tragedy of Cayley Anthony, whose mother was recently acquitted of her murder.

Finally, in the "way too close to home" department, our family's recent loss of Walker, the 5-year old son of one my dear friends from Scripps College.


While these are sharp and cruel reminders of how life can be so unbearably unfair to the smallest, most innocent of our citizens, I need to remind myself that, for all of the logistical challenges that a commuter marriage presents to our family, my little ones are safe, healthy and happy. While I certainly spend my fair share of time negotiating with David and Elizabeth about food choices, teeth brushing, bed times, room cleaning, and the like, I'm incredibly lucky to have the privilege of being able to be their mommy, to hug and kiss them and feed them breakfast each morning, tuck them into their warm beds each night, kiss them as I drop them off at school (and when I pick them up), and cuddle with them daily.

At Seven Months: The Implosion

There is no way to sugar-coat it: this week sucked.

The kids would whole-heartedly agree. I don't know if it was something in the water, the lunar cycle, or June Gloom. But the kids and I were simply not in sync. And the denouement of our week's drama took place last night.

Having returned home very late from a rehearsal for Elizabeth's dance recital, the three of us were whipped. Understandably, their desire to play and goof off completely trumped any desire to catch some z's. I relented. Even though it was after 8:00 p.m., I sent them upstairs to play for a bit while I made lunches for school, whipped up a batch of chocolate chip cookie dough, fed the dogs, etc. I think that David noticed more than anyone that it was getting later and later, as he kept calling down to me, asking when I'd be coming upstairs. For about an hour, my reply was, "pretty soon. I just have a few more things to do."

David ultimately took his own shower, and I plodded upstairs at around 9:00. Once bathed and in our jammies, I proceeded to tuck the kids into bed as usual. Lullabies were sung, and hugs and kisses were exchanged.

The tranquility lasted for about one minute. Elizabeth called out from her room, "Mommy! I want to find my binkie" Note that her binkie (aka pacifier) had been MIA for about three days. I was in no hurry to hunt it down given that I am hoping that she'll wean herself from it one of these days. I replied, "sweetie, we can look for it tomorrow."

"NOOOOOO!!! I want my binkie!"

Typical back and forth took place, with me getting sharper and sharper in my replies. I finally said, "Fine. I will look behind your bed."

Sure enough, the white and green binkie was lodged between the bed and the wall, and down just far enough to make it difficult for even my skinny hand and arm to snake through to get it.

But I tried. I wedged my hand down as far as I could, but all I did was push the binkie down further from my grasp. I grabbed a small plastic kid's hanger, which only pushed the binkie further and further down. Eventually, the hanger slipped from my grasp. I grabbed the stem of a silk flower that was laying around, in a last-ditch effort to scoot the binkie up. The stem fell off, too. I gave up, and told Elizabeth that I'd already hurt my hand that that we'd get it tomorrow.

"NOOO!!!!" she screamed, with tears running down her face! The tantrum started. She screamed. She threw herself on the bed. And I lost it.

"FINE!" I said. I threw her end table away from the bed, causing the lamp to fall off. I tossed (literally) aside her small chairs, causing thumping sounds on the wall. And I angrily pulled out her trundle bed to see if I could get the God-blessed binkie. I was screaming at her the whole time.

By this point, David ran into her room, sobbing. "Mommy! I'm sorry for whatever we did! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

The three of us just stood there and stared at each other for a minute. I looked around her room, taking in the results of  my own tantrum. I assured myself that I was, in fact, the world's most horrible mother.

I manged to get her pacifier and hand it to her. I pushed the trundle bed back, uprighted her night stand and lamp, and put the chairs back. I crawled into my own bed and just lay there in a fetal position for a few minutes.

Then I got up, and asked David and Elizabeth to cuddle with me for a few minutes. David agreed. "I want to hug it out!"

"Me, too, sweetie," I said. Boy, did I ever want to hug it out.

So the three of us climbed into my bed, and started to talk. I began by telling them how sorry I was for having my own tantrum. I also asked them if they agreed that it had been a hard week. They both nodded their sweet heads.

"I wish more than anything that Daddy lived back down here with us," David said, between sobbing gasps. Elizabeth just spooned next to me, fervently sucking on her binkie, and looking up at me with her big green eyes. "I want him to work at Yahoo again!"

"I know, buddy. I know," I said. I tried to explain to him, as well as I could to ensure that he'd understand, that Glen's work at Facebook was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, noting that Facebook is likely one of the hottest companies to work for in the U.S., if not the world. I said, "well, the option always remains for us to move up north."

"No!" David said. "I love Foothill (his school) SOOOOO much!! We can move after I graduate!"

"Well, by the time you finish at Foothill, Elizabeth may still be there. And I highly doubt that Daddy will still be up north."

And then David reminded me again of how very wise he is. He said, "I just want us to talk about how we can do better and not fight so much and make this work while Daddy is gone."

After several hugs and kisses, I said, "I do, too. What do you think we can do?"

The rest of the conversation is a tad fuzzy, as we were all falling asleep by then. But suffice it to say we ended the conversation in giggles and tickles, which is a far cry from tears and shouting..David eventually decided that he wanted to sleep in his own bed, and padded off at around 10:30. Elizabeth and I fell asleep.

I woke up this morning, full of the hope and promise of a new day. Not so Elizabeth. She was highly put out that David had plans to go to a birthday party after school and that she was not invited. Note, of course, that I completely understand and respect the party host's wishes to not include siblings; at some point, there can be too many kids. I get it. And I tried to explain to Elizabeth that these were just the rules we'd have to follow.

She would have none of it. Meltdown #2 commenced. She refused to get dressed, and when she wasn't hollering at me, she kept her eyes affixed on the Nick Jr. television show, "Max and Ruby." David, wisely enough, kept quiet.

And then my temper flared again. "Elizabeth! I'm done talking about this! I know what it's like to not be invited to a birthday party! Believe me, it happened to me all the time! It's awful! I get it! I can't do anything about it!"

I huffed upstairs to gather a few more things, and when I came down, Elizabeth was still in her jammies. That did it. Threats of taking away her toys, television privileges, and other sanctions ensued. This only caused the tantrum to escalate. By the time we got into the car, it was 7:55 - much later than I am comfortable leaving for school - and I was beyond tense.

It also didn't help that while driving to school, David mocked Elizabeth's pronunciation of a few words, just because he thought it sounded funny. Long story short, we all parted company in a huff.

While I am overjoyed that Glen comes home this weekend and is home ALL next week, I can't help but think it might be safer for him to stay up north.

Safe in Mommy's Arms (or, Let me Cuddle with you While You're Still Little)

David and Elizabeth and I had a fabulous time in the Bay area over the Memorial Day weekend. We hit the road on Friday afternoon as soon as David was dismissed from school, and braved the Los Angeles freeway traffic with 100,000 of our closest friends and neighbors. It's becoming clearer and clearer that the kids are seasoned travelers. Just plop them in the back seat, hook up the DVD player, and they are good to go. Even though it was almost 11:00 p.m. when we arrived at the apartment in Newark, they were still pretty wired. Of  course, they crashed the second their little heads hit the pillow.

Whenever we head to Newark or, as the four of us refer to it, "up north," David and Elizabeth usually have just one goal in mind: to see their cousins Allison, Wesley, and Chloe. They are giddy (bordering on hyper) with excitement at the prospect of playing non-stop with the younger members of the Hastings gang. When their eyes were not affixed on the DVD screen, David and Elizabeth spoke of little else but of the cousins: when they would see them first, what they would do together, and how they would happily cause all sorts of mischief.

And so it was the case that plenty of cousin-related play time was scheduled into the weekend's activities. In fact, when we arrived at their house on Sunday afternoon, Allison, the oldest of the Nor Cal Hastings kids, announced to me that they were having a "Cousin's Sleep Over." Sure enough, it had been all arranged. My sainted brother-in-law, John, and his wife, Teri, voluntarily - and without any coercion whatsoever (well, maybe by their own kids, of course) - held court over a house full of kids ages ten and younger for more than 24 hours. By the time Glen and I arrived to their house mid-morning on Monday to claim (or otherwise take responsibility of the So Cal Hastings kids), the party was still going strong. Allison had beautifully braided both Chloe and Elizabeth's hair, the girls had tucked fresh flowers behind their ears, and all had embarked on a walk to a nearby lake with Uncle John.

As the afternoon rolled around, I anticipated that the kids might eventually start winding down. And, no, that didn't happen - not when there are tree houses to explore, trampolines to jump on, and water guns to fight over in Allison, Wesley and Chloe's backyard that can only be described as kid-inspired and kid-friendly wonderland.

But, at around 3:30, I heard the familiar siren song of a four year old calling from the yard. Elizabeth had either stubbed her toe, decked David, Wesley, or both, or tripped ... no matter the cause, she was weeping. Arms outstretched, she pleaded to me for an "Up Up!" and gazing at me with tear-filled blue-green eyes. I was a gonner. How could I resist?

We tucked into the large, comfy leather chair in their den, and Elizabeth curled up in my lap. I was secretly breathing a quiet prayer that she would fall asleep in my arms.

Wish granted: within 10 minutes, she was out like a light. My wonderful mother-in-law, Mary, quietly brought over a little blanket and draped it over Elizabeth, whispering, "I just want to cover her little piggies!" Within another 10 minutes, I was asleep, too.

I think that was probably one of the most wonderful snoozes that Elizabeth and I have ever taken together. I sat there, in the leather chair that refused to let go of its comfy grip on me, relishing how wonderfully small, sweet and innocent Elizabeth felt in my arms. I tried not to think too much about the fact that, one day soon, she'd be too big to do this. I tried banish from my mind the notion that when she's a teenager, she might not even want to be in the same room as I. I tried to stay present in the moment, and looked upon the sweet face of my beautiful little girl who, eyes closed, and binkie firmly between her lips, slumbered peacefully in my arms.

Maybe I am doing something right

Our weekend schedule was shifted a bit as Glen returned to Southern California on Thursday and headed back up on Saturday. This, of course, was so that he could be back in the San Francisco area to run in the 100th Bay to Breakers run with his brother, John.

Sunday was also the day of Harvey Mudd College's 53rd Commencement, and so the kids had the treat of hanging out with their very favorite babysitter (and teenager), the lovely Bailey. When I returned home at around 3:30 on Sunday, Bailey and the kids were wrapping up yet another showing of "Finding Nemo." All was well, and it appeared that duct tape had not been used. This is always a good sign.

I retired to our home office, where I spent the better part of an hour tinkering on the computer, doing mindless internet browsing and playing on Facebook. David was nose-deep in book #2 of the "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" series. When I pulled myself away from my laptop and re-entered the real world, David was still buried in his book. And I noticed that my bedroom door was closed.

I figured that, yes, the other child of the house must be in my room.

So, I instinctively knocked on the door. Yes, I know. It's sort of silly given that it's my bedroom, but politeness is hard-wired in me.

No response. So, I quietly opened the door.

There, nestled among the seven (or so) decorative pillows on our bed was Elizabeth, contentedly playing with her Leapster hand-held video game. She seemed happy as a clam, and oblivious to the outside world.

I just had to stop and stare at her for a few moments, and take it all in. Why I found it profoundly amazing (and almost breathtaking) to see this little person so independently find a quiet place in which to just be alone with her thoughts (and her video game), I'm not quite sure. But, there she lounged, happy to be just with herself. And that she chose mommy and daddy's bed as a soft, quiet, and safe place in which to burrow touched me to no end.

So, maybe Glen and I are doing something right ... making sure our kids are confident in the knowledge that home is a safe, secure, warm, and cozy place ... in any corner, and on any bed. In a world where so many kids' nightmares are lived in broad daylight, at home, each and every day, I can only count among my many blessings our ability to provide a safe haven to two amazing little people.

A Perfect Mother's Day

There are two days out of the year in which I get to be unabashedly lazy. I don't really have to lift a finger (at least around the house), and I can pull rank if I want to curl up for a nap. Those days are: Mother's Day and my birthday.

So, today being Mother's Day and all, it was no different. And I am a lucky, lucky girl.

Glen woke up at about 6:00 this morning and headed out to get donuts. The kids were fast asleep, and I was still wafting between consciousness and unconsciousness. The second he left the room, I conked out again. The next thing I knew, he was home and asking whether 1) I wanted a donut and 2) whether I was ready for breakfast. I nodded a groggy "yes" to the first question, and a "no" to the second. Soon, three donut hols appeared out of nowhere. I nibbled, and dozed. Somewhere around that I time I muttered an approximate time that might be good for breakfast. I think I said something like, "um ... 9 ..." before nodding off.

My sleep was happily interrupted here and there by my sweeties. Elizabeth padded into the room at around 7 (or was it 8?) and crawled into bed. I would not let her steal my spot on the mattress, much less my pillows and blanket. I sleepily implored her to scoot over, and she happily complied, saying, "I'll take Daddy's side of the bed!" We cuddled for a few minutes before she became quickly bored with the whole ordeal, and ran off to watch Sunday morning cartoons on Nickelodeon. Back to dream land I went.

And then, the festivities began. At around 9 (or so), David and Elizabeth cracked open the bedroom door, and David shouted "HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY" with great gusto. Behind them was Glen, carrying a tray of bacon, sourdough toast, and diet Coke on ice. Oh, and a donut. Oh, and a small bag from Tiffany & Co.

I munched away and opened my sweet cards. The ubiquitous little blue box with the little white bow held a small charm to add to my charm bracelet. Because the kids and I are regular customers at the Baskin Robbins in Claremont, the charm was a sweet ice cream cone. Perfect! I wolfed down my yummy breakfast, and then asked for more sleep. The trio complied.

But, by 10, it was time to get moving, as we had a date with my mom and sister, and Julie's little girl, Jacqueline. We'd made plans to meet them for lunch at Julie's house; we were to bring the pizza, fresh fruit, and bicycles so that Jacqueline could bike around the block with her cousins. Despite one minor technical glitch with the bike rack (discovered while driving on Hwy 57), the bicycle transport was a success. Well, it did require a temporary pull to the side of the road for minor adjustments.

The cousins, as always, were so happy to see each other! Elizabeth and Jacqueline made quick work of getting down to the serious business of art work:

At the easle

And then, it was time to consume pizza:

'Nom ... 'nom ... 'nom

And, finally, getting to the real task at hand: bike riding! Behold the cycling cousins:

Side by side

Total confidence!

Total sweetness!

Totally owns the sidewalk!

And, the rare group shot:

The riders conclude their victory lap!

My pink Townie bike and I strolled along side the three muskateers for a good portion of their riding.

Hot on David's heels!

I even let my sister take the bike for a whirl.

Auntie Julie, hot on Elizabeth's heels!

And the surprise of the day was hearing my MOM take a look at my bike and say, "I've gotta try that." Alas, she did, but I didn't get any photos. Nuts. But I did get a great photo of her with both Jacqueline and David:

A girl and her Grandma Josie

A grandma and her boy!

But, as all good things, this too came to an end, and the four of us hit the road at around 2:30 to run the ever-exciting errand of getting David and Elizabeth a hair cut. Who knew that Cool Cuts 4 Kids would be absolutely empty on Mother's Day? We were in and out in less than 30 minutes.

Now, I will selfishly confess that one thing I anticipated receiving for Mother's Day was a nice note from Glen, stating that he did not, in fact, have to go back to the Bay area tonight. Rather, he was home for the duration of Mother's Day and - surprise surprise! - would be sticking around until Monday.

No note appeared. I looked at him. "You're really going back up tonight?"

"Yeah, really," he said, sheepishly.

"No, come on. Where's the punch line?"

"Uh ..."

The kids and I dropped him off at Ontario Airport at 7:30 this evening. He was sadder about it than I was, the sweetie!

But the evening did not end without one last bit of entertainment from the kids. Driving home from the airport, they happily amused themselves by playing their own re-created version of a television game show for kids called "Brain Surge," which is on Nickelodeon. To the uninitiated, Brain Surge contestants are quizzed on stories and pictures that are either read or shown during the game, and by process of elimination, the final winner is treated to a good old fashioned Nickelodeon "sliming." David and Elizabeth clearly remembers a whole lot of details from the most recent episode we watched this week, because they were quizzing each other on the stories, pictures, and other brain teasers the entire drive back. They cracked themselves up!

Their giggles and happiness capped off a perfect Mother's Day.

Now, I gotta think of what to do for a perfect Father's Day for Glen ... which, if I remember correctly, falls on a weekend in which he is pretty much booked. Time to get creative!

Another blessing: family unit restored!

I can't decide if this week feels as though it went by quickly or painfully slow. Regardless, it's the weekend, and Glen came home tonight! There was much rejoicing, and I had a rare opportunity to pick up Glen at the airport all by myself, as David and Elizabeth were keeping company with a wonderful woman from Claremont whom we've gotten to know through Elizabeth's pre-school.

Of particular note to the end of this week is that that the Lenten season (or it's impending conclusion) has prompted me to be reflective and meditative on my many blessings. I'll be the first to admit that this week had a bumpy start, complete with feelings of personal and professional inadequacy, exhaustion, and impatience. I recall vividly that, when speaking to Glen on Tuesday evening, when he asked, "how were the kids today?" I replied, "not great, but I was much worse."

Maybe it's the fact that I took today off from work, given that both David and Elizabeth's schools were closed for the Good Friday holiday; or, perhaps, it's because the kids and I attended our very first Good Friday services at our church in Sierra Madre. Post-church lunch with friends also always provides a wonderful diversion. Of course, it could also be the fact that I had dinner alone at a sushi restaurant, quietly keeping company with two magazines and tucked into a corner booth. Regardless, I welcome the sudden sense of peace and calm that washed over me by the end of today. While driving around town this evening, tending to random and non-urgent errands and biding  my time before heading to Ontario Airport to get my sweetie, I somehow felt mentally and emotionally capable of refocusing my mental energies on thinking about and being grateful for so many blessings. Let me name of few:

1. My kids are extraordinarily healthy. They are safe, they are home with me and tucked into their warm beds in their beautiful rooms, and are fast asleep, enjoying what I hope are wonderful dreams.

2. I have tons of friends. Our neighbors are amazing; I can take David and Elizabeth over to their house and park them in front of their television/Wii console/assorted Lego sets pretty much any time I need, just so that I can make a quick trip to Target. For this, Jeff, Karin and Della rock. Elizabeth's god family, who also lives in Claremont, bends over backwards to provide back up when needed, especially on the rare evenings when I have an evening commitment at work or at one of the kid's schools. And remember the Claremont lady I mentioned at the start of this post? She approached me last week and, having heard of our commuter situation, announced to me, "I want to take care of your kids once a week. Let's arrange a schedule." Out of nowhere, this lovely woman stepped up to the plate and offered her heart. How often does that happen?

3. I am married to a rock star who, despite the geographic distance between us during the work week, never passes up an opportunity to remind me just how much he loves me. I've gushed about Glen before, and I'll do it again: marrying Glen was the best decision I ever made.

4. While our crazy schedule has required me to pair down the number of volunteer obligations that I can commit to, those that I remain actively involved with are incredible fun. How can you not love a chance to serve first-graders a lunch of mac and cheese, pizza, and chicken strips to celebrate their class play, and watch them fall all over each other to help you blow up balloons, decorate tables, and be just all-around adorable?

5. I have a beautiful home. I love this house. I love hearing David refer to our house as "fancy." I don't know if it's truly fancy, but it's ours, and it's perfect just the way it is.

6. It's not that I HAVE to pick up the kids' toys, do their laundry, cook their meals, and manage their baths and oral hygiene each day ... rather, I GET to do this. The more I remind myself of this, the more I realize what a privilege and a gift it is to have these two perfectly beautiful little creatures in my life. Even if they do turn up their noses at broccoli.

7. In general, I am so damned lucky, it's not even funny.

In my quest to identify what it is that I am the most passionate about, what gets me up in the morning, and what rocks my world (in a good way), I always go back to motherhood. Recently I've done a number of searches for blogs and discussion boards geared toward couples and families who have at least one member (an adult, presumably) that lives away from home for a good portion of the week. I was surprised to find that very few exist. One that I found was nothing but a mother's rant about how much she "f-ing" hates her home situation. Immediately sensing a negative vibe, I moved on from that one.

So, here's my plan: www.commutermarriage.com. I am going to start another blog that I hope will incorporate resources, information, and just a larger sense of community to families such as ours: one parent who lives away from home for several days at a time, one who has primary care of the little ones, and all who are in the frame of mind to keep positive and remain steadfast at making such a funky domestic situation work in only the best possible way. I'm not sure where to start, but I did register the domain name. Baby steps, I know.

This blog, of course, will continue to be recount my own deep, insightful, and witty observations on David, Elizabeth and me as we plug along Monday through Friday, and cherish/relish our weekends with Glen.

May your spring holidays - ones that, in their own ways, celebrate miracles - be wonderful and blessed!

Deep thoughts at 1:00 a.m.

Looking over my blog history, I see that I have not posted anything - ANYTHING - for three weeks now. It's not that copious stories, anecdotes, and funny happenings worth sharing have not happened; it's just that finding or setting aside the time to record them in this blog has been difficult.

Thus inspiring the topic for this evening's blog post: "If I had an extra hour in every day, I would ..."

I am quite certain that our domestic situation here on Lordsburg Court has not created any additional challenges to my personal time management habits. To the contrary, I seem to lately be in the habit of creating more work for myself during the weeknights when it's just the kids and me at home. Rather than going to bed at a decent hour, I plop myself in front of my cute red laptop and start, as I call it, "farting around" on the web. What am I searching for? New opportunities for a part-time, home-based business.

These late-night explorations for that "perfect" opportunity have provided me with quite an education. I've quickly learned that any advertisements for "copy-and-paste" or "instant wealth in five clicks of the mouse" are pretty much bogus. I've learned that it's easy to create a website, but difficult to get it ranked highly in most search engines. I've learned new terminology, such as "search engine optimization (SEO)," "Clickbank," "affiliate marketing," and "back links." I've discovered that in my quest to establish some sort of cottage industry, the one niche - the one issue or topic about which I am truly passionate - is motherhood.

As most of my fellow mommies will attest, motherhood is not really a money-making industry, and I tend to think that it shouldn't be. But there must be information, resources, ideas, inspirations, and assistance for which moms, like me, are in the hunt.

The mere fact that I am even searching for new opportunities to expand both my professional and economic foundation bring up a whole host of issues that my fellow mommies and I deal with on a daily basis: work-life balance; finding happiness in the small things; valuing quality over quantity; celebrating childhood; being okay with "good enough;" paying the mortgage/credit card bills; perspective  ... the list goes on.

So, I will keep up my late-night searches, with a mind open to new ideas and ears always listening for the soft, sweet voices of David and Elizabeth who may require my late-night assistance or cuddle. And, when this happens, I'll once again be reminded that the most important cottage industry I could ever invest in, and the one that I am currently THE BEST at, is being David and Elizabeth's mommy.

I promise that the next blog post will capture more silliness and mayhem. Remind me to tell you about the running list of "Elizabethan Quotes" and "BUGZ."

Tiny celebrations

Tomorrow, my three-year old turns four. I am both thrilled to see the lovely young girl she is becoming, and terrified at how quickly she (and her brother, for that matter) is growing.

But, rather than dwell on how quickly life passes us by and my associated feelings of mortality, I will devote today's blog to a brief history of Elizabeth Ann Hastings.

Most of you know that Elizabeth was born four weeks early. My Ob-Gyn was a bit concerned about her fetal growth and, as soon as she hit exactly 36 weeks, she was induced. Out she popped at four pounds, 13 ounces at 6:40 p.m. on Tuesday, March 27, 2007.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

Elizabeth quickly established her place in our household and in our hearts. She took a liking to her big brother almost instantly.

That bond has grown stronger over the past four years. Of course, I'm not sure whether it's that they truly love, respect and adore each other, or are simply plotting their next move against assorted power structures.

I had always heard that having two children was not necessarily more difficult, per se, but just twice as much work. I agree and disagree. One of the advantages I have in raising both David and Elizabeth is that they both pretty much like (and dislike) the same things. Food preferences are frighteningly similar. They both enjoy Lego, and even David will jump in and play Barbies with her on occasion (on his on volition). They love to bike and play outside together. They are buddies, and they know that when it's just the two of them and me, they have me out-numbered. That's perfectly okay by me.

I have also thought often about what is different about raising a girl than raising a boy. In my case, each kid is discriminating in their choice of clothes and toys. They adore books. I think one of the few differences I can see is that Elizabeth is just slightly more picky about her hair, and is more likely to pick out her own clothes to wear each day, usually resulting in a very creative fashion ensemble. Otherwise, despite their age and gender differences, these two kids are like peas in a pod. And I am so very lucky and blessed.

Let me end tonight's brief blog post with a photo montage of Elizabeth birthday celebrations of years past. Roll 'em!

First birthday, 2008!

Second birthday, 2009!

Third birthday, 2010!

Happy birthday, beautiful girl! I love you, and I am so proud to be your mommy!

Counting my Blessings

Almost a month has passed since my last blog entry, and while I feel somewhat  like slacker for not keeping up with chronicling the adventures (or mis-adventures) of the Hastings tribe, I have to admit that, up until last week, there was not much to report.

Then, Friday, March 4 came along.

The college I work at - Harvey Mudd College - completed what we believe was a very successful site visit by a team of peer reviewers who were on campus for the college's reaccreditation efforts. The visit concluded on Thursday, March 3, with enormously positive feedback provided by the distinguished panel of professionals who comprised our peer review team.

To celebrate, Glen and the kids and I had planned a long weekend in the Bay area. Chloe, my youngest niece, turned four on March 7, and her party took place on Sunday. We planned to cavort around our usual haunts and hang-outs, meet with friends, and enjoy an otherwise unstructured weekend. We drove up on Thursday evening, during which time David and Elizabeth contentedly watched DVDs in the back seat, I dozed, and Glen drove us safely to our apartment up north.

On Friday morning, while I was strolling around the IKEA store in East Palo Alto, I received one of the worst phone calls of my entire life. The five-year old son of one of my dearest and closest friends, had died.

For the purposes of this blog, I won't mention the names of the family impacted by this horrible, devastating tragedy. But, by way of a bit of background, the mother of this beautiful boy was one of my Scripps classmates. She and I were next-door neighbors in Browning Hall at Scripps during my senior year. She and her husband live in the northern party of the Bay area, and they have two sons. She is one of my closest friends. We gave each other baby showers prior to the arrival of our respective oldest kids. David and this little guy enjoyed playing together whenever our families got together.

The oldest woke up on Friday morning not feeling well, went back to his room to rest, and he was gone.

Always looking for some sort of silver lining - however remote - I was grateful that the kids and I were already up north so that I could get to my friend's home in a jiffy. Glen and I arrived at their beautiful home late in the afternoon that same day, and all I could do was hug them, cry with them, and sit together with them in shared shock.

We'll be returning to the Bay area bright and early tomorrow morning so as to be with the family, talk, visit, share beloved memories of a beautiful little boy, and attend his memorial service on Monday.

In light of all of this, I've gained remarkable new perspective and appreciation for so many things. I only hope that this new-found enlightenment lasts. Here are some of my initial lessons:

1. If the David and Elizabeth's rooms are messy, strewn with toys, clothes, and assorted clutter, that means they are happy, healthy, alive, and with me today. The mess doesn't matter one wit.

2. There is always time for one more hug, one more lullaby, and one more popsicle.

3. Kids understand death and loss better than we give them credit for. David has been such a trouper, but this is his first experience with losing a friend. He is so sad, and yet so wise, honest, and forthcoming about his feelings.

4. Yes, I'll be happy to get the new "Megamind" DVD at Target. Not a problem.

5. The honest and candor with which children express their feelings is absolutely amazing. At the candlelight vigil held for our friends' son at his school on Monday evening, students and classmates left messages and artwork on yards and yards of butcher paper. Their insight, expressed in words and drawings, are brilliant.

6. It's terrifying when a friend loses a child. Absolutely terrifying. You don't know what to say, what to do, and how to act. If anything, I've learned that if all you can do is sit there with them, hold their hand, and just be present, it helps not only the grieving parent, but you, too.

7. Kids' celebrations are so vitally important, but they need to be about the kids, not the parents. For Elizabeth's 4th birthday party, we originally planned to do an elaborate tea party theme. After this weekend, it became clear to me that the elaborateness of kids' parties have nothing to do with the kids. It's about the parents. To that end, Elizabeth's party will now just be a big, whopping play date with cousins, classmates, kids from the neighborhood, and friends. Pizza, mac and cheese, and other kid-friendly fare will be served. There's no need for white gloves, lace tablecloths, and fine china. There IS a great need for unstructured play time, laughter, and running around like crazy. Example of how this worked beautifully: Chloe's birthday party on Sunday. It was a princess-themed affair, but the kids got the greatest pleasure from playing ball in the front yard, bouncing on the trampoline in the backyard, munching on cupcakes, and climbing in the tree house. Bliss!

Cherish every moment, my dear friends. Life is a gift. Tomorrow is not guaranteed.