Fortune

Fortune is a magnificent word. As I type today I am filled with swirling emotions that cloud my mind and tears that cloud my eyes.

This is move week. After Saturday I will no longer live in this apartment. This is the apartment that I brought my two babies home to. This is the apartment that I have rearranged a million times to feng shui, or make more inviting, or more baby friendly.

When I walk outside I am surrounded by beauty - every season. I can spy several friends houses from my front porch. I can feel memories in every space I walk in, indoors and out.

The past few weeks I have felt so self-absorbed as I have tried to pack things, play with my kids, and not loose my sanity. I've been focused on boxes, on donation trips, on what to keep and what to sell. I've been consumed with being a full-time Mom with long nights alone and little sleep. Mostly I've spent my time trying hard NOT to start saying goodbye and not to let my emotions run me over.

Yet, as I sit here finally lost in my emotions (thanks to a movie clip from my Mom), I am overwhelmed with one feeling. Fortune. What a great fortune I was given here in this town. How incredibly fortunate I, no, we, have been to be enveloped by the friends here. Some we have had for what seems like a lifetime. Others that I know I will regret not knowing a lifetime. And incredibly fortunate for the family I have - the husband who is willing to leave for a month to start a new job with 100% faith in me that I'd get things done without going completely crazy. And I am grateful, as compared to the video, that it was only a month.

There is just so much. That is how I feel. There is just so much to say goodbye to. There are so many memories to try and hold on to. There are so many people to hug one last time.

Thank you everyone. For really making this place much more than a stopping point in my life. Thank you for the education, frustration, support, energy, new lives, and library of memories.

And please forgive me if I ignored you a little too much - or didn't always have the time to spend with you - or did not return all of your phone calls. It is a complete reflection of me and my crazy world, and not my love for you at all.

I feel like our move is a little like a fortune cookie. You get it, it has this great message, but you aren't sure what to make of it. California feels a lot like that for me. I'm not sure what to expect or what to envision. A lot like when I first moved here. So maybe fortune will be on my side again....

For now, consider yourself fortunate because there will be no more posting from me until the move is officially over!

Customer Service 101

I have been accused of some interesting things in my life. Some, unfortunately true. Like the time I told someone that I'd had 'Sex on the Beach'. I was referring to a drink - which I didn't have either. Nevertheless, it was a lie. And the guy I told it too soon after called me a liar. Some, fortunately false. Like the call I got from the Better Business Bureau when I worked for K, accusing me of some unfair business practices and horrid customer service. After a nice, drawn out letter-written battle, I got a respectful apology from the BBB and from the once offended student.

Being a red/blue personality has led me to some hard predicaments. My red personality wants to be fair in all my encounters, and my blue personality wants me to take all personal situations into account. This being said, I have always struggled to do what is right for the company and also for the customer.



You see, the customer is not always right. At least not be right in terms of being correct. Someone who only gave a ten dollar bill but swears they paid with a twenty, is not right. However it is also true that one negative comment or experience will spread like wildfire. A good comment or experience will only be related occasionally. I know this from having worked for fifteen plus years in the service industry. I know this from reading business strategy and methodology books. I know this from the anecdotal data on my Mommies Forum where women get together to chant, and where one discussion board is devoted solely to 'Businesses we love or hate'. Trust me, there is more hate than love there.

So it shouldn't surprise you now that I am about to share a 'hate' story with you. I have lots of good and lots of love - and sometimes I will post about the great service I always get at my neighborhood grocers , or the incredibly warm and respectful treatment I get from Wi&Wa's Dr (she has no website), or the fresh, delicious, and highly addictive food that I adore from Costa Vida.

Today's story isn't as lovely as any of the above mentioned. In fact, it is better worded here in it's original context:

A Load of Bull

What made me even madder was reading the comments. Several people talk about how the military wife shouldn't get special treatment since her hubby is in Iraq. That is neither here nor there. The radio station was having a contest FOR family members or stationed soldiers.

One person, Lloyd, even comments that given the nature of contests and people who try to win them, that no one can be trusted. He says:
"Ok Ok Ok, any radio jock will tell you that people will do whatever they feel is necessary to get ‘free stuff.’ They will beg, they will lie, they will even make up stories to make you believe that they really won something when they didn’t."

Later, in response to another comment which stated that KBULL's customer service needed some help, he replies:
"Customers? I think we will call them listeners. The radio stations do incredible work to prepare shows, showcase new music, AND they give out free stuff."

Wow - the absurdity is just leaking all of the place in those statements.

1 - Radio station listeners are customers. Any good program manager or program director will recognize that. Given that radio stations get money from sponsors and advertisers it is in their best interest to play the music that will be attract their 'customers' as well as produce commercials that are alluring to the 'customers' who are listening.
2 - The fact (or at least statement) that radio stations do incredible work to prepare their shows and showcase new music means nothing. This is their job. Should they fail to do a good job it doesn't hurt the listeners - there will always be other radio stations. Doing this says nothing about their good work ethic and relates directly to their attempts to stay in said business.
3 - 'AND they give out free stuff'. I just don't know where to start on this one. The whole notion that we are so indebted to radio stations for their act of giving out free stuff is just mind-boggling. Since E worked for two prominent radio stations I feel factual in saying this - RADIO STATIONS RECEIVE MOST OF THEIR FREE STUFF, FOR FREE! They are not buying concert tickets and then giving them away. The get promo tickets. Those amazing coffee mugs, foam fingers, and t-shirts - promotional items, usually made available to them for free by one of their advertisers.

While the situation with Emily's friend is unfortunate - and I've already expressed my opinion to K-BULL regarding it - my real sadness comes from the lack of common sense and customer service etiquette from both K-BULL and some of the bloggers' comments.

See here is the truth - K-BULL will stay on the radio. Maybe they'll issue an apology. Maybe they won't. They will get bombarded with people who are angry about the treatment of this woman. They will loose some listeners. They will probably mock this entire incident and continue to place blame on anyone but themselves. This will always happen as long as people who get treated badly do not stand up for themselves. You see, my blog comes after reading ten other blogs on this same incident. I have sent an email with the story out to all of my friends and posted it on my mommy forum. I am fueling the fire and I am ok if the fire doesn't burn down K-BULL.

What I am not ok with is people, like Lloyd, who have their heads stuck so far up their asses that they have deluded themselves into believing that behavior like this is excusable or at the very worst, ok! This is what I really want changed. Then, by the very nature of having people change stations like K-BULL would never be survive.

So they next time you get shoddy service, express it. You don't have to get all of your friends to call the place, just talk with the manager. Express it in calm tones and an open mind.

And the next time you get amazing service - above average service - express it too! After that McDonalds drive-thru employee treats you really nice and calls you Miss instead of Ma'am, grab your cell phone and call the 1-800 number they have posted on their window.

Either one makes a difference. And though I am far too much of a realist to think that any of this will extinguish all of the rude, incompetent Lloyds out there - it will make a difference in how you feel in situations and hopefully, in how the business acts in future situations.

It's not you, it's me...

The dreaded line of 'It's not you, it's me'. Quite the staple of any relationship break up. You hate to be the one to hear it and you hate to be the one to use it, just because they might ask you to explain it more.

So here is my dilemma. I need a break-up. With my friends. No not all of them. Not even the majority of them. You know how you have those friends in your life who seem to call only to talk about themselves and always need you to wear your 'therapist' hat?

Well I seem to be surrounded by them. And I am so tired, physically, emotionally, mentally! Between the upcoming move, ending a rough semester of school, working on a convention, having two young kids, my own depression, and now finding out Wi has celiac disease - I just have a lot on my plate.

But they keep calling. One because her husband lost his job, can't seem to find another job, and they are in drama. They are always in drama. One because he just accepted that he is gay. No doubt he will need lots of love and support. One because her boyfriend dumped her and she really needs to talk.

And it's not just that - it's that every time we talk it is always about them. Like my friend just called, and I'm pooped and it is obvious. He asks how I am, I start explaining and when I am done, there is nothing. No response, no 'Gosh, that sucks' or 'How can I help' or 'That must be hard'. Instead, it turns right into the reason that he called me. How does he tell his best friend that he is gay.

And I just cannot do it. I cannot be the ones to walk them both through everything right now. I have my heart and soul and mind full. Right now I feel like I really need people to talk to.

So what do I do? I feel like ignoring their calls and their messages is mean, and just not me. Yet I feel like telling them I cannot be their friend anymore is mean too.

How do I say 'It's not you, it's me' and have it not hurt? I love these people. I really do. They have been wonderful people in my life at different times and for different reasons.

I just feel evil. Am I not trying to hurt them? Or am I not trying to hurt myself by having someone in the world that just might not like me.

6:26

6:26am - today: driving my car on the way to my future home - staring the road down, feeling keenly aware of my vulnerability having my two children in the car, watching the sunrise on the 26th day of April of this year. Driving to see my husband who has been working a new job, starting a new life, one that we will all join shortly enough. It feels so strange to leave something that has defined me for so long. Looking at my oldest child, and then my youngest, and knowing that we are doing the right thing.

6:26am - three years ago: pushing my body to it's limits to bring my oldest into the world - staring at my husband, feeling keenly away of my vulnerability being mostly naked with family in the room, watching my child's birth day rise on the 26th day of April, 2004. Feeling so strange to start something that will define me forever. Looking at my newborn child and knowing we had done something right.

Happy Birthday Sweetheart Boy.

Meez

Totally wasting time not wanting to do the dishes:



Looks close enough to me - just add SEVERAL pounds!!

You can make your own at Meez!

Arm yourself!

I just don't get it. When you go to hug someone and they reach out with only one arm. WHAT IS THAT!?!?! It's not a hug, it's like a sloppy handshake. I'm not sure what is worse, the dead-fish handshake or the one-armed hug.

Seriously, I will not be offended if you do not want to hug. I have a cousin who prefers not to hug, and ever time I see him we exchange a warm handshake. And I love it! It's him.

But if you are going to hug someone, use both of your arms. A one arm hug makes people feel awkward and misled. Not misled like 'I guess we aren't going to sleep together' but misled like 'Shoot, I just hugged them with two arms. Did I make them uncomfortable?'

Hugs don't usually last more than ten seconds - which isn't long. I realize that hugging makes some people uncomforable, but ten seconds or less will not kill you.

I'm not asking for a french kiss from everyone*, just two arms.

So if you greet me firm up that handshake or open up both arms!




*Robbie Williams IS excluded from this. From him I do ask for a french kiss.*

My Archenemy

As if I need a reason to clean my house more often - that my OCD is not enough already - my archenemy appeared today.



I hate ants. Nothing makes me more crazy than finding ants in my house. Ants outside, that's fine. That's their territory. In my house though they are invaders and need to be killed even if I must do it one teeny tiny ant at a time.

Of course this means I will get rejected from the study of Buddhism. There are Buddhists in Malaysia who are letting ants just keep building their little ant hills while the Buddhists try just blowing or flicking them off in a way to try and prevent hurt or death to the creatures. Well they are just better people than I am - and I'm ok with that. I take pleasure in getting rid of the ants in my house, whatever torturous method that takes.

Now Wikipedia tells me that ants are of particular interest because of their highly organized colonies or nests. So that tells me that if I were an insect, I would be an ant. No doubt the Queen ant. Or at least in my mind I would be. Still, this is my house and my colony!

So now my kitchen, which I scrubbed uber-clean last night, is shining once again after I sprayed bug killer like it was cheap cologne, donned my rubber gloves, grabbed a toothbrush, and scrubbed out every nook and cranny in my house!

They will not colonize this landmass!

Over hill, over dale...

There is nothing like the energy of a three year-old. If only I could muster that energy up while I was at the gym every morning. Regardless I love watching it in him, and in my equally energetic nineteen month old. After watching the boys chase each other around with their toys I decided it was time to go out and expend energy. The weather was lovely today - a nice mix of sunshine and gray rain clouds that sprinkled randomly. Wi really wanted to bring his fire truck, this model:










This of course made Wa want to bring his hippo - the one that vacuums up blocks in a hungry-hungry-hippo flashback. (child pictured is not my own!)













Figuring we would attempt a walk around the block, near our neighborhood park, I lugged both truck and hippo outside. The boys were thrilled and immediately started racing down the sidewalk. Soon our adventure took us from the small park with it's bumps and bridges to the steep street leading up to the capitol. I have no doubt that we were the hit with the rush hour drivers as our little family parade made it's way, slowly but surely, up the hill. Given the balance issues of toddlers I figured heading back down that hill wasn't the smartest of parental moves. This led us to journey down the backside of the capitol into another park.

As our adventure here in this state nears an end, an outing like this holds a lot of meaning. OF course I failed to charge the camera and take pictures - but hopefully this verbal record will jolt my memory in years to come. Standing on the grass looking down at the city, seeing our house from above, and looking at all of the colors and lights decorating our town, was mesmorizing. The moment felt unreal as the wind blew just enough to surround me, the sun was setting casting a glow on the city and a warmth on my skin, and I found myself trying to mentally capture everything my eyes did. As strange as it sounds I felt like the city was trying to pause just for me...

Fortunately the sound of the fire truck rumbling down the pavement brought me back to our current adventure and we continued on. Wi & Wa pushed their way down through the canyon, up the grass of the park, and back into the hallways of our house.

Never before have a fire truck, a hippo, two kids and their mom had so much fun.

Social Status Update

My three year-old, Wi, has been assigning people to a certain social status for the last three months. Of course he only assigns people that he personally knows so as not to make an unfair judgement call. He also only has two ratings, good and great. Here are some loose definitions:

Good: You aren't as favored as the great people.
Great: He likes you better than the good people.

One never knows exactly what category you will be in, but lately everyone has been stuck in the same categories.

Good: Mom, Wa, Goosey, Bob, Steph, V, Pop, Juanie - and most everyone else.
Great: Dad, Papa, KK, Ali, himself - and that's really it.

He's fantastic at letting you know where you stand. It started with us trying to teach him how to respond to the questions 'How are you today?' or 'How's your day been?'Originally he answered the question(s) in a normal fashion. Lately the conversation looks a little like this:

Me: "How are you doing today Wi?"
Wi: "I'm great. And you're good Mommy. And Daddy's great. And Walker's good."

He will continue this social status assignment until he has noted everyone in the room. Basically everyone is good, unless you are one of the elite mentioned above. There really isn't any rhyme or reason to why someone is good and why someone is great. Daddy can be totally mean that day, and he's still nice. I can be Mother Theresa to him, and I'm still good. I've tried introducing new adjectives like excellent and superb with no luck. My poor grandma keeps trying to get 'great' status, but for three months none of us have changed...

...until today! While helping him put his clothes on for the day, I asked how he was. I got the usual 'I'm great.' Then something magical happened, he said 'And you're great Mom.'

I'll take this as a sign, much like a fortune cookie or horoscope, that my social status is on the rise! Then again, I don't dare ask him again for fear that I've already been demoted back to 'good'.

Happiness is....

As I sit here typing the potent smell of bleach from my hands keeps filling my nose. I spent yesterday scrubbing the grout on my Grandma's tile kitchen counters. Oh, spending time doing projects like that is as close to heaven as I can get.

If it were heaven, here are five of the cleaning projects that would be there with me:


Oh yes, the yellow Rubbermaid gloves. I'd prefer it if they came in purple or flower-print. Regardless they allow me to scrub places and things that I really want to shine, without making me question what the heck I'm touching.

Strong, sturdy, and willing to go where no one else can go. It's not just for teeth anymore!

Every cleaning kit deserves one (or two) of these hard workers.

Swiffer. Any swiffer. Enough said. Ok that's not enough to say. Seriously! I would kiss all of the people who invented these! Use one with for your floor - use one to dust - use it to clean the console in your car! Angles in heaven have wings of Swiffers.


We bought one of these little babies last year, after I finally go sick of pulling out the big vacuum to suck out the food from Wi and Wa's chairs. I love this thing - LOVE LOVE LOVE. And yes that does mean I would marry it. The little quick flip lid hits those really hard spots.


And finally, my little friends in the campaign against germs:

These bubbles find themselves right at home in the tub, toilet, sink, high chairs, and many other places. I do suggest you check the instructions before spraying it all over.

Golly...I'm not sure if I'm ready to pack this computer up and get cleaning or hide my embarrassment for being so enamoured with cleaning! Oh I am so domesticated!

I'll take E7

Someone once said that change is inevitable, except from a vending machine. So true. I've put many a dollar into a vending machine and not received the difference. I guess when you are already paying 85 cents for a Snickers who cares about that extra 15 cents that never returns.

Anyway. I spent some good time in the car today driving back and forth to visit my grandparents. Wi & Wa (commonly referred to as WiWa) are wonderful passengers after I've cranked up Raffi, or Hap Palmer, or Anne Murray. Today Wi said he preferred the Dr. Seuss music and he sang along with Suessical. With their attention diverted and no traffic my mind started racing with all the things I need to do before this big change of ours.

Then, I started thinking about all of the upcoming changes. Wi turning three. E starting his new job. Me in my hometown again. Siblings graduating college. And so much more. Given my disposition for worry you can imagine what came next. A fast heartbeat, tapping fingers, shortness of breath, and the inevitable tears. I stared out at the mountains around me and thought to myself "I don't need to leave, I could live here forever". If you know me at all, you know that isn't true. I need to get out of here. It's just that the idea of change, well it's not that it's just scary, it's overdue. The combination of the fear of change plus the feeling that this is what I have needed for so long, is indescribable.

I cannot blame who I am right now on the fact that I've been here for almost eleven years. I cannot blame my weight on my zip code or my anxiety on the street that I live on. I can say that my resistance to change these past few years have led me to where I am. Now after having being so hungry for change I find myself at the proverbial vending machine, with a full pocketbook, ready to select all of my options.

W2W: Difficult Personalities

I was linked into this great idea on another blog from TJ. Since I am always in need of information, advice, and inspiration in regards to my children, I figured it would make for great self-analyzing and blogging.

Today's Woman to Woman topic is: Parenting children with difficult personalities

In her blog Lei mentions her preference for babies any day - and the same is true for me. Not so much because 2-5 years old aren't fun - but more because children one and under seem to have better schedules. I am one for schedules!

Will & Walker couldn't be any more different. Even when they were under one. While neither of them would be labeled as 'difficult personalities' I think what has been hardest for me is parenting children with polar-opposite personalities. Will came out with a built-in day planner, one that had been magically synced with my own. He slept through the night early on, pooped on schedule, ate on schedule, and was mellow as could be. Walker came out with his own wonderful agenda...one that has taken me his whole eighteen-months to just understand! I should have known, given his hyperactivity in the womb, his incredible response to sounds and touches while in there, and his quick birth!

As they've grown I've struggled to understand both of them and parent both of them well. Walker is a total textbook baby. Each email I get from the baby center about his growth mirrors exactly what he is going through and feels like a nice cold drink as I realize it's normal. Will is not so textbook: knew his letters and numbers to 20 before he was 2, knows 30 of the 50 states by name, shape, location, etc.

Now at almost three and nineteen months, I am realizing something. Dealing with their different personalities has really nothing to do with their personalities, but rather with my own personality. This has been a harsh realization for me. Initially there was a lot of blame placed from me to them on their mood swings, and their issues, and their behavior. In reality it was my behavior, issues, and mood swings that made them 'difficult'. Don't get me wrong - sometimes they are plain in the wrong! However, they are also little kids experiencing an enormous amount of learning and change.

One of my cousins has these incredible mood swings. She's my age - and she's wonderful. Yet if she has to pee - get her to a bathroom now or you risk cranky. If she's hungry, don't force her to go without food or you'll wish you were dying. Too much social interaction and her introverted personality is overloaded with stimulation, and you don't want to be around should she explode! Somehow I understand her moods and make excuses or arrangements for them all the time. Yet a 3 year old who is tired and skipped his nap, UGH!

Kids at this age are just trying to learn that there are rules, let alone what the rules are. Part of their identity process is to understand and push boundaries, to explore yes and no, and to learn what the reaction is to their actions! My goal is to continue to challenge myself to parent better. And not to compare the two kids - there is no way for fair comparison. When behavioral challenges present themselves it is up to me - not the 3 year old or 18 mo. old - to identify the issue, address it, and find a solution to it.

Wimpy day....

It's a Wimpy day. No it isn't because I'd gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today. I'm just having a 'blah' day. A wimpy day. There is so much to do and so many things to take care of with the upcoming move, and I just feel like sitting on my wimpy butt, reading books, and watching movies all day. E took the boys to his Mom's for the morning - so that I could have some me time. That's all nice and good - but somehow that makes me feel even more like a wimp. Fortunately the boys were thrilled about the notion of spending time with their grandma, and it's raining outside which would have made our adventures harder to do.

Some days are just better than others for productivity. I spent the day yesterday cleaning out the closets in the boys' room, took the boys to the Dr, reorganized my grandma's kitchen drawers, loaded up my parents' car with stuff from our storage unit, did the dishes, bathed the kids, and then managed to squeeze in a pedicure after bedtime. Now that is production. And usually I prefer productivity.

I think part of my mood is that E is leaving on Sunday. This is the official mark of all the upcoming changes in our life. He'll move down there and then we'll follow in May. Maybe my wanting to lounge around all day isn't really from being wimpy, but more from wanting to just make time stand still. It's moving too fast. My oldest child will be three soon - where did all that time go!?!?! We will soon be living in another state, one that has always been more my home than this one, and let's face it, I'm turning 29 soon and that is closer to the big 3-0 than I ever wanted to be :)

Ok, so now that I've complained about it a little bit it feels better. Doesn't mean that I'm going to get off my wimpy butt today and do anything - oh WHO am I kidding! You all know I'll have my Rubbermaid gloves on, grooving to my iPod, and scrubbing tile with a toothbrush before lunch.

I don't like you!

The weather has been so amazing here that I cannot stand to be indoors. Each morning the boys (minus E) and I have headed off for some adventure. The zoo, the park, the library...etc. It is great to get them out and moving in the morning, and I do so much better being out of the house.

Tuesday I took the boys to a local park. This park is wonderfully huge and has so many different playgrounds that you can easily get away from the crowd. I've been consumed by a wonderful book lately (The Other Boleyn Girl- I finished it yesterday) so I wanted a playground where I could watch the boys play without too many other big kids pushing them around. Of course this part was wonderful for that, but I couldn’t resist playing with them.

About twenty minutes into our play another kid showed up. I get a little territorial when it comes to my boys (all three of them) so I watch this kid to make sure he's going to interact well with W&W. He climbs up by where I am standing, looks at me and says 'I don't like you'. Now this is within two minutes of his arrival. No reason for him to not like me, yet. I smile and say 'Well that's just too bad now isn't it.' trying to take the 'high road' against an eight-year old. He scampers off, comes back and says to me again 'I don't like you'. This time, instead of being a polite mommy, not to mention the fact that his Dad was twenty feet away chain-smoking, I turned to him and said 'I don't like you either'. I followed this by the classic sticking out of the tongue. He scampered off again and I just laughed...and laughed...and couldn't stop laughing!

Of course it was sad that I stooped down to an eight-year old's level but it was so refreshing! I wanted to start walking around and just say 'I don't like you' to random people on the street, just to see their reactions! The truth is that I like more people than I do not. And I try very hard (some would say too hard) to like those who do not initially catch my favor.

However, the people (and I am talking about a specific group - none of whom would be reading this) that I do not like are really starting to drive me crazy. Crazy enough that I really want to say 'I don't like you'.

Now I know at least one of you, and I can guess who that would be, is going to say that I should just say it. That I should just step away from the people and stop worrying about trying to like them, or trying to please them, or trying to change them.

I cannot say it. Not in real life. There are many, many reasons. None of which I can really share without starting to share facts that would link to specific individuals. And to be fair, they aren't necessarily doing anything on purpose to make me not like them. Goes back to the old saying, 'it's not you, it's me'. Like 8th grade break-ups.

Too bad this isn't 8th grade. Well, actually I'm glad it's not 8th grade. I did like my English teacher (Mrs. Hall) and I loved getting in trouble for talking with Autumn in class all the time. We made lots of fun movies for projects, ones that cause red cheeks and tears of embarrassment now. 8th grade overall was hard though, mostly because you could still say or be told 'I don't like you'. It was usually combined with something like 'I don't like you, and neither does Katherine, Anne or Mary*. We think you should sit at another table'. It would have been better if I was the one hearing it, but usually I was the snotty brat saying it.

Which is why my behavior at the playground was so funny. Here I am, significantly older than I was in 8th grade, reverting to youthful antics.

And yet, in the end, I still wouldn't mind gathering a group of people together, and saying 'I don't like you', oh, and 'Have a nice day'.

*Catch that?

the kiddos

I sent an email to a friend today with an update of the kiddos, and figured that some of you might like to read it as well! These two sure keep me on my feet. When I'm done doing a back-up of iPhoto I'll post some up here. Here is the news about the terrible two-some that I sent her:

Our Will turns three next month. Can you believe it? I'm telling you what it goes so fast. Last night I went in and sat in their rooms and just watched them both sleep. It feels like any moment they'll be 30 and I'll be visiting their homes and their families and such. Any way, Will turns three...gotta stay focused :) Hard to believe that is he going to be three and then there are times that it is hard to believe is ONLY three. He is very talkative and has a memory that holds on to everything. Some of my favorite things about Will or Will-isms are:
~ He is totally fascinated with wheels and fans. For example, we went to the zoo this week and he kept begging me to go to the giraffes. Of course I think this must be because he loves giraffes (they are his power animal, right Noonie?). Quite the contrary, he remembered that there are huge ventilation fans that he wanted to stare at. We were there for twenty minutes.
~ When he is sick or gets an owie he usually asks for something, like a Band-Aid or food or something. When I give it to him he says 'It feels me so better'.
~He lines up his cars in order from smallest to biggest, and then will rearrange them several times.
~At almost three he is still small enough to fit in clothes for a two year old! Yet he eats like a horse.
~When he says goodbye he doesn't just say bye, he says (and does the corresponding signs) 'I love you. Rock on. Hang loose. Okie-dokie, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, Goodbye!'
~ He is smarter than I know what to do with. He has now started to read. We went for a walk the other night downtown and he found where it said 'Walker' on a building. Figured it was a fluke until he read me the exit sign. He can spell Mom, Dad, Will, Walker, stop, no, and a few others.

Walker is a definite 'Walker'! He is now eighteen months. It is funny because when I look back at pictures of him from his birth he is the same! Except now he is full of personality and trouble! He learns everything through physical trial and error. Some of my favorite things about Walker or some of his Walker-isms are:
~ The child can eat anything in less than five minutes flat. I'm not talking about eating a carrot in five minutes. I'm talking about eating an entire banana, or sandwich, or bowl of noodles. Five minutes flat.
~ He loves shapes. His favorite song is one about triangles, circles, and squares. He'll dance to it around the house and he'll find anything shaped like a common shape and twist it around in his hands. His favorite shape is an oval and he points them out everywhere. One of his first words has been 'diamond'.
~ When he gets really mad (which is often since we can't understand what the heck he says most of the time), he raises up his hand and then smacks the nearest table.
~ At just a year and a half he fits into the same clothes that Will does! He's in the 50th percentile but compared to Will he looks so big.
~ He is pretty headstrong (wonder where he gets that) and when he is doing something he knows he shouldn't and you try to get his attention, he closes his eyes. I need to catch it on camera because it is hard to describe. He takes his eyes, closes them, and then kind of rolls them around to try and peek at you.
~ He is always ready for a cuddle, a hug, or a kiss. He'll ask to walk only to come back two seconds later and want to be carried.

---note to reader, I bet your kids aren't as cute as mine (wink, wink)--------

My Letter Box

After a conversation yesterday with my best friend, I went into my closet and pulled out my letterbox. You know, the one with all the letters that I have received over the years. My letterbox also has emails that I've printed out - mostly from my college years.

So I sat down last night and started to peruse through the letters. Mostly looking for correspondence with TJ - who has been my friend for twenty years. I found some pretty interesting stuff!

I found a newsletter that must have been from 1993. She claims, as I read it to her, that it must have been something I wrote. I have a vague memory of the two of us sitting down at my computer and writing it. It's all about the life and times of Miss Me and Miss Her. It is funny to read through the names of our crushes and know now what happened with each of those.

This box is hilarious though - I have letters or emails from lots of people - including many people who read this blog. Since I have a funny memory (meaning that it chooses what I remember and when) it was great to read through some of them (I have two-thirds of the box left) and have this sudden rush of memories -and of people who have meant so much to me for different reasons.

Some of my favorites thus far include:

~ a letter that says 'Do you realize that a year ago I was dating jackass and you were dating bastard?'
~ a letter from one of my coaches in high school apologizing for handling his stress badly towards me 'The stress that I have been experiencing lately has little or nothing to do with you.'
~ a letter from my sister that she wrote in church with the 'Annoy Alan Song' lyrics in them. This song was brilliant in making my brother Alan full of rage. Her letter is also written with each line in a new color of marker making the overall letter look like a rainbow. I have several from her during this color phase.
~ a letter from my college crush apologizing - 'I turned around and you were gone'
~ a note from an employer (not mine) when I worked at an employment agency. He developed an enormous crush on my just based off of one meeting and a telephone call. He was saddened to learn that not only did I not return his feelings but that I was engaged. His letter, which makes me laugh and feel sick, is written to 'My sweetest Rochelle' and contains such blabber as 'I never had any intention of falling in love with you' and 'I (wish) I had known sooner so that I could sweep you off your feet.' Ha ha ha. Poor guy. What a heartbreaker I was (smile).
~ letters from my mom full of love, admiration, and chiding. One in particular was written shortly after I got engaged. I cannot read it all the way even to this day.
~ an email from my cousin and I, to my parents, about a particular crush, where they two of us wrote the email together, one in all caps, to distinguish our words. One of the best lines in here is from my cousin and she says 'he's cute, she's cute, together they're cute. according to us girls who are witness to the cuteness it makes us puke!! but that's ok, it keeps her out of my our faces in the wee hours of the morning.'
~ a letter from my younger brother written to 'Baby Shelly', that mentions that I am 'the bestest sister'. My favorite one from him is an email that comes much later in his life that says 'How are the boys? the girls are same old down here. So far I have had a lot more fun just going out with different girls then trying to stay with one girl'.

I could go on and on. Even reading through them now makes me laugh again. I am sure the next two-thirds will bring more laughter, and knowing me, more tears.

Regardless it was a wonderful way to reflect on the past - and to look at some of the relationships that I have had (and still do). One of the things I found in my letterbox was a saying by Kahil Gibran that I had in my dorm room and all of my subsequent college apartments. It really sums up what these letters mean in this collective little box:

'Your friend is your needs answered. He is your field, which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving. And he is your board and fireside. For you come to him with your hunger and you seek him for peace.'

Pending distance...

I realize that distance is usually what makes the heart grow fonder. However, I have noticed that pending distance makes the heart take notice and grow fonder. At some point in the near future the town I am in will no longer be my town. Not sure when exactly and not sure exactly what will take me away. With that somewhat impending notion I have found myself taking notice of things I am sure to miss. Of course sometimes it makes me feel as though I’d hate to leave, when in reality I am dying to go.

So to exercise the fondness, ten of them, in no particular order are:

* having mountains literally in my backyard
* four very distinct and glorious seasons, all marked easily by the stream next to our home
* the ability to walk downtown at all hours of the day and night, with no fear
* access to the award-winning library, new museums, and eclectic restaurants with no commuting
* clean, crisp, breathable air
* the way downtown looks when I’m driving home late at night. Realizing that ‘the downtown’ is my home.
* feeling different, in a good way, than many of my neighbors
* having lots of kids around the neighborhood for my kids to interact with
* memories. Almost ten years of apartments, friends, classes, crushes, personal disasters, and professional heights all in one place.
* the birth places and first homes of my children. This one is really hard.

iqjtyx

I have found a few blogs that I find absolutely hilarious. They are great to read while avoiding my homework, dirty diapers, dishes, etc. Every once and a while I get the urge to add a comment - most of the time I'm just a 'lurker' (I think that is the term).

I find it fascinating that when I do want to comment I am asked to verify my human authenticity by typing a random assortment of letters and sometimes numbers.

I get it. I'm not stupid and I understand the reasons for it. Having a blog myself I appreciate not having comments by computer spammers or whatever.

I do think that it is an interesting statement however. Since most computers spell better than us 'humans' I think it would be more effective if:

a) a voice announced a word and directed us to spell it. I'd like to see how many people could spell real words rather than random letters. I'd be screwed if they said 'definite' - for some reason that one boggles me.
b) Readers were asked to spell a word that was already written out. For example:
'To comment on this blog, please spell acerbic.' Our blog generation is not that great at reading directions or at spelling and it would be funny to see how many people give up even though the word is already written for them!

It's like when you play Cranium and you hit the G-N-I-L-L-E-P-S card (where the word has to be spelled backwards) and the card reader actually has to turn the card OVER to read the backwards spelling instead of just reading the word backwards on the original spelling. You know?

I've decided for each new conglomeration of letters I have to spell to post a comment, I am going to create a new word.

iqjtyx:
adjective
~ having, compelled by, or ruled by intense emotion or strong feeling

the voices in my head

By now many of you who read this might already suspect that I am crazy. Well the subject of this post is sure to confirm that notion for you. However - it is really just one voice, my own. And I know for a fact that everyone else does this same thing so I'm not THAT crazy.

I mean, come on. We all interpret things internally. For example, someone might say to you 'Gosh it's been a long time since I've seen you. You've really changed'. You then think to yourself 'Changed? Changed for the good? Changed for the bad?’ Of course depending on your level of consciousness (id, ego, superego and all that crap) you might spend more time interpreting: 'Does that mean I'm fat?' 'Do they not like my hair?' 'They are jealous because I look so good' etc.

Why is it that we spend so much time in our minds? Thinking about situations. Wondering about material between the words that were said or the lines that were written. Second-guessing ourselves, others, everyone?

In the end we find ourselves with no (or little) factual information and a lot of assumptions. And I hate assumptions.

So why do we do this?

I've had conversations in the past few days with others who have talked themselves into situations with me without ever having asked me anything. They've determined that I'm angry with them, or don't like them, or something else (usually negative) based on minimal reality-based information and maximum theory.

I'm not judging - trust me. I sat here tonight after being given information and talked myself into a fight with someone, without them even knowing! I answered my phone - had a brief conversation in which I was given some 'facts' by a third party. Immediately I assume that I'm being excluded, which must mean that I'm disliked, which must mean blah, blah, blah.

I am actually supposed to be focused on math homework - functions and graphing to be exact. What is interesting about it is that in algebra it is suggested that you find at least three points before graphing a line so that you are sure of the graph's shape. In relationships though we often take one 'point' and determine a whole line of thought based off of that. I hate having to admit that in an abstract way algebra is useful in reality - a thought I have been fighting ever since high school.

I guess this blog tonight is really just me trying to express frustration at a process that seems so ingrained in our human behavior and yet so detrimental to human coexistence!

Or maybe I'm just thinking too much about it.

Funeral? Will travel!

I got a phone call the other day from my best friend. She called three times that day before we actually got connected, so by the time we were connecting I was worried that something was wrong. Here is part of the phone call, as I remember it:

Me: 'Hey - what's going on? You've called like four times today'
Her: 'I know. I've got to talk to you.'
Me: 'Is everything ok?'
Her: 'Well, I've got some good news and some bad news.'
Me: 'Ok...'
Her: 'My grandpa died. So I'm flying home for the funeral this weekend.'
Me: 'Oh wow (insert nickname). I am sorry. Are you ok?'
Her: 'Yeah, I think so. But the good news is that if you can get there you can see me!' - followed by her laughter, which was followed by my laughter

Now this may seem a little twisted - but it is has been two years since I've seen her. This is the woman who has known me since I was eight and who I've seen every year with the exception of one when she had to go and take herself to frog-land.

We both had our second child last year - she a girl and me a boy only a day apart from each other.. I have never met her little one and she's never met mine.

I leave tomorrow for the trip to see her. I do not think I'll be able to sleep. I start thinking about it and get teary. Of course she is going to read this and roll her eyes. Then she'll call me and laugh about it with me. We'll talk about how different we are.

But I know that the minute we get to hug she's going to cry too. And with this reunion comes not only my normal anxiety over getting packed and making sure everything is ready to go - but excitement that would rival any child's Christmas morning emotion.

Of course every once and a while I have to remind myself that this is a hard weekend for her - and sometimes I have to remind her.