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."