The Jenny Life

The Wrong Debate

2012-02-12T08:57:00.000-06:00

thesocialpoets.blogspot.com

I don't really follow politics much. I should -- I'm one of those uninformed voters who should probably know more about seats and candidates before I hit the polls.

But you can't help but follow politics now, in a presidential election year. And here's what I'm learning: our politicians spend too much time worrying about campaigning and how their decisions while in office affect their chances of re-election.

Take, for example, the birth control debate.

President Obama recently backed a mandate that requires religious institutions to provide health insurance coverage to their employees for contraceptives. This is something the Catholic church is not happy about, and Obama's camp is being touted as "smart" for taking this stance which will activate young, female voters. Pollsters have found that voters across the board -- including Catholics -- support access to contraceptives.

Political analyst Charlie Cook put it this way: "If it's framed as a fight over contraception, President Obama wins and the church and opponents of the rule lose. If it is perceived as a fight over religious freedom, the church and rule opponents win and Obama loses."

Who loses in this discussion? We all do, but especially women. After all, the majority of contraceptives are ones targeting the female reproductive system.

Let's first talk about the reasons why women in this country may need contraceptives. Did you know that a woman taking oral contraceptives ("the pill") reduces her risk of ovarian and endometrial cancers by up to 70 percent? And some women use the pill along with a host of other prescriptions to control acne. Some pills are used to reduce the symptoms of PMS, an actual medical diagnosis that reduces the quality of life for the women suffering from it. You can read more about all the reasons not related to contraception why women may want to take the pill on this WebMD page.

Note that it's a medical website, not a political website.

But where are the medical experts in this fight for coverage for contraceptives? Nowhere. They have no voice. Or, if they are talking, they are not getting media coverage so Americans can be educated on this issue. What do our politicians know of medicine? Don't they have bigger things to worry about?

It's a shame that Obama's advisers have to recommend a course of action based on whether or not it's popular in the polls. How about making decisions based on what's the right thing to do? That gets lost in the election debate. They're talking about the right things for the wrong reasons.

It seems that the campaign trail gets longer and longer and starts earlier and earlier. Obama was only one year into his first term when I first heard political analysts discuss how his actions in office will impact his ability to be re-elected. How about what impact his actions have on the country? On our lives?

We need campaign reform. This is ridiculous.

Capital "T," Capital "G": The Grind

2012-02-07T21:47:00.000-06:00

Get up. Get ready for work. Get children ready for school.

Brush little one's hair. Create ponytail/pigtail/braids.

Give hugs and kisses.

Go to work. Meetings. Phone calls. Spreadsheets. Letters. Emails. Emails. Emails.

Leave to pick up kids. Go to school #1. Looks for boots. Look at special school project at close visual range.

While in car on way to second school hear all about the day. Pick up at school #2 begins.

Collect boots. Collect backpack and gym shoes. Bicker with sister over who gets to tell mom about her day.

Home.

Quick! Feed the dog, he looks like he's going to gnaw your arm off. Whew! Disaster averted.

Start dinner.

Look through backpacks.

Stir dinner. Add some more ingredients.

Collect mail. Throw a load of laundry in.

Set table.

Serve, eat and clear table of dinner. Transfer laundry to dryer.

Clean up kitchen while half supervising homework. Or, in today's case, make a Valentine's Day mailbox for one child.

Begin bedtime routine. Begin bedtime routine. Begin bedtime, girls! Get your butts upstairs! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!

Fold clothes while checking in on children's progress at 2-minute intervals.

Distribute clothes to bedrooms. Read books.

Give hugs and kisses.

G'night!

And usually fall into bed myself shortly after.

6:00 am -- Get up. Get ready for work.

"Why am I so exhausted?" said one friend last week, when we broke this routine to gather for drinks. "I don't understand, I don't even DO anything!"

Capital T, Capital G. The Grind.

I think I know how Sisyphus feels.

Super Mom does not live here.

Marissa and Mommy Day

2012-02-04T14:48:00.002-06:00

This morning Lindsey got special time with Daddy at a kid's track meet at the University of Minnesota Fieldhouse. His running has inspired our kids, Lindsey especially, and she was excited to spend time with her dad doing his favorite sport.

Marissa did not want to go, and I decided that we would have some special time just she and I.

So off we went to Choo Choo Bob's, a model train store in St. Paul that I've heard about from lots of different parents. While there's lots of kids train products, they also carry many different kinds of railroad sets for the serious adult hobbyist. Need HO gauge railway? How about N gauge? All types, all sizes, they have it all.

They also had a story hour going on when we got there, and two different birthday parties, one for a 3-year-old and one for a 4-year-old. It was packed. We barely walked in the door and Marissa wanted to turn around. "This is a little kid's store!" she declared.

But we walked around a little bit and she decided it wasn't too bad, though she refused to play with the Thomas the Train set tables in the back of the store, even though I know she still loves to play with our trains when given the opportunity. Too many toddlers around,apparently.

She wanted to leave so down the street we went, to see what else was around. We ended up stopping in to a local coffee shop called Kopplin's Coffee. This is a brand new location for them, and it was hopping. It made me smile to see the local neighborhood types in there, the entrepreneurs meeting with clients on a Saturday morning and the long-time friends getting together to catch up.

Marissa had a hot chocolate and a donut muffin (a muffin that seriously tasted just like a donut!) and I had a rogue mocha. What makes a mocha rogue? The chocolate, apparently, which was a specialty 70% cocoa bean chocolate. Yum. And seriously, how cool is the froth on it? Every drink had a different design. Such a nice touch.

We headed back down the street and stopped by Sweets Bake Shop, which was now open. We picked up a little something for dessert tonight, and then peeked back in Choo Choo Bob's one last time before leaving the area. This time story hour was over, and we got to see the real model trains in action. We watched this for a bit, and then Marissa decided she wanted to go home. So we did.

She's been playing by herself for hours now, making up her imaginary worlds and dressing up. And even though she said she wanted the entire day to be "Mommy and Me" day, she's decided she just wants Marissa time for now, to play and imagine the afternoon away.

That sounds divine.

How Planned Parenthood Created an Army

2012-02-02T11:14:00.000-06:00

Graph from Planned Parenthood 2009-2010 annual report (link below)

What an interesting couple of days this has been in the world of fundraising.

If you hadn't heard, Susan G Komen announced on Jan 31st that, due to a new policy they implemented, they have cut funding to Planned Parenthood that pays for breast exams and screenings, to the tune of $680,000. Their new policy was that they cannot fund organizations that are under federal investigation. Guess what, Planned Parenthood is pretty much ALWAYS under investigation, thanks to one of the services they provide to their clients.

Within 24 hours, Planned Parenthood sent an email out to their supporters, asking for their assistance to fill this sudden and unplanned-for gap in funding, so they can continue to provide breast cancer screening to low-income women.

The public's first response was surprise: You mean Planned Parenthood doesn't just abort babies?

Once we all were educated that Planned Parenthood provides many more services than abortion, the collective public became outraged. How could Komen, the leader and most well-known breast cancer brand in the world, choose to cut funding to those who can least afford it? Doesn't this go against Komen's mission?

This blogger did a better job of summarizing what happened than I can; read more of it at the Nonprofit Marketing Guide blog.

The backlash in social media has been immediate and loud. Shame on Komen -- support Planned Parenthood!

Within 24 hours Planned Parenthood had an army of advocates speaking out on their behalf on the social media spectrum, standing up for them and making their voices heard. Within 24 hours after Planned Parenthood's cry for help, the $680,000 gap caused by Komen's decision had almost completely filled by supporters who became donors. I suspect Planned Parenthood has a whole lot of brand new donors who have never given to them before.

The word from Komen's camp?

Silence.

Finally after 2 days had passed, Komen's PR machine began to churn, with Facebook notes, tweets and a push via traditional media to make their voice heard on their change in policy. But at this point 75% of all social media buzz was against Komen and for Planned Parenthood; they have some work to do.

Here's the best part.

I began wondering, "Hmmm...what does $680,000 mean to Planned Parenthood anyway? How big of a gap IS this?"

The answer: Not very.

Planned Parenthood's latest annual report indicates that they receive hundreds of millions of dollars in charitable income, through individual donations, grants, program service revenue and other sources. Their net assets on their most recently filed 990 are $103 million, with gross receipts of $130 million.

Let's see...$680,000 into $130 million...that's .5% of all of their funding. Yes, that's a decimal point in front of that number. That's less than 1% of their total funding.

Wow. All this, over a dollar amount that they probably could've replaced just by asking some of their other sources for a couple more bucks.

But look at what they've done. They've brought over new advocates and supporters to their cause. They've educated the public as a whole as to their mission and how they fulfill it.

I am sure that the long-term impact is that Komen will never fund Planned Parenthood again. If I were Planned Parenthood I would say that that's no big loss, considering the amount of supporters they've gained in this debacle. And Komen is already under attack and has lost walkers and donors, just as they are ramping up in their marketing for the 3-day walks which take place all over the U.S. all summer long.

Ouch.

Well played, Planned Parenthood, well played.

*NOTE: As a disclaimer, I must remind readers that these views are my own and not that of my employer, former employer, husband, dog, great-aunt's second cousin once removed. Just me. Thanks.

Golly Gee

2012-01-31T17:00:00.000-06:00

I get very few comments on my blog. If I ever post a link to it on Facebook or Twitter, those may get comments or get re-tweeted, but few take the time to go through to my original post and comment. Except my family, of course.

I was honored to see that my recent blog post "Are We Teaching Hate?" inspired my dad to write a blog post about his own experiences growing up in Northern Michigan during a time of great change in our country.

Check it out for another perspective. And really, how many men in their mid-60's do you know who write multiple blogs and keep up with family and friends near and far via Facebook and Twitter? I'll guarantee you he'll be one of the coolest guys and best storytellers you'll ever meet.

I Smell Bacon

2012-01-30T21:51:00.000-06:00

Did I mention before how much I love bacon?

So much so that this year my dad ordered some special meats for our family for Christmas, including some amazing flavored thick-cut bacon, and Hawaiian chicken breasts.

The Hawaiian chicken breasts are stuffed with a special ooey-gooey cheese and pineapple chunks, then wrapped in bacon. Beautiful, woven bacon that sizzles and oozes into the chicken as it bakes.

Yum.

But unfortunately, the girls hate these Hawaiian chicken breasts. They particularly hate the oozing cheese.

So, in order to have some more of these, we decided to make an equivalent of these for our girls, with none of that icky stuff that they don't like. And since Lindsey REALLY wanted to help make dinner, I decided to put her crafting skills to work, weaving bacon.

Four strips of bacon the long way, four strips cut in half, then woven together to make a mat of meat. We put the chicken breast in the middle of it, wrapped it around the chicken breast and set it on the broiling pan with the stuff ones.

400 degrees for between 50 and 60 minutes, and voila.

A little sauteed broccoli on the side, and I had four happy, filled family members.

No, I did NOT have to find a special frying pan for this recipe. And yes, I did have to cut the bacon.

Are We Teaching Hate?

2012-01-25T07:30:00.000-06:00

My youngest daughter came home from school with a book about Martin Luther King Jr recently. Very appropriate, considering that a couple of weeks ago we celebrated his birthday.

I began reading the book to her and got a bit disturbed.

Segregation of schools. Segregation of services. Unequal access to transportation, stores, jobs. Black people being severely beaten and sprayed with water from a fire hydrant, just for wanting equal rights.

Yes, it all happened, in the all too recent past. Yes, it was a terrible time. And we should never forget that we in this country, the land of the "free," did those things as recently as one generation removed from me.

But it never even occurred to my daughter until I began reading this book to her that people with different color skin could be treated differently. She was confused by the term "black."

"Do you mean brown people, Mommy?" she asked. "Because I've never seen someone with black skin. And what about people who are dark peach or light tan? What are they?"

"They" defy classification. We all do, don't we? Let's start treating differently the people who grew up with an Italian heritage but turned out to actually be French but who are actually more Croatian than either of those heritages, shall we? Because that would be my family.

I am all for teaching history lest we repeat it. But now, when diversity is so deeply ingrained in our children, are we doing ourselves a disservice by teaching that it wasn't always this way? Will my daughter look at her classmates whose skin is darker than hers and think of them differently, when she never did up to this point?

The other element that's changing is that "diversity" today is not about who is black and who is white. It is about who is Hispanic, or Muslim, or Indian or Chinese. It is about population growth in a multitude of ethnicities that most of us probably don't even know. Did you know that people of the Karen culture are the largest growing population in the Twin Cities? (Karen is pronounced Ka-REHN and is a certain culture of people who are immigrating here from Burma and Thailand.) The Twin Cities is home to the largest population of people of this culture outside of Southeast Asia. Check out their supporting organization, Karen Organization of Minnesota. What an amazing people. And guess what -- they came to this country to escape many of the same persecutions we did in the 1960's against a certain class of people as well. Ironic, huh?

So I'm not sure what to make of this. I agree that we should pass on the teachings of Martin Luther King Jr. He was an incredible leader who transformed our nation. I'm just not sure that age 6 is the right time to teach that hate ran so deeply in this country at one time.

Superhero Day

2012-01-21T05:09:00.001-06:00

Yesterday was Superhero Day at Lindsey's school. The kids were instructed to dress up like a superhero, which was defined as anyone that they look up to.

Lindsey has been pondering Superhero Day all week. She didn't know who to be, and I didn't offer any ideas.

Finally on Wednesday she asked if we had a wig of short, black, curly hair. Ummm....no?

"Darn," she said, in all seriousness, "Because I would really like to go as you."

Since she probably wouldn't fit into my clothes, she decided to go as her sister, because she admires her sister, too. Except she decided that Marissa's clothes would be too small for her.

Finally the day came, and Friday morning she is looking through her drawers. She decides to go as herself, because she likes herself just fine, too.

One Letter of Gratitude

2012-01-19T12:00:00.000-06:00

I have the honor of being the guest blogger for a friend of mine, Missy Durant, who recently published her first book, What Matters...Gratitude.

I first met Missy through our daughters, who are the best of friends. I got to know her more personally as our daughters have grown and am humbled and amazed that so much wisdom and positivity can reside in a single person.

Missy's book chronicles her journey of writing a letter of gratitude to 50 people in 50 days. Those letters changed her life, changed her perspective on life and ignited a zeal for the things that matter most in life and began a revolution of gratitude.

She asked me to write an answer to the following question: "If I could only write one letter of gratitude to someone, who would it be and why?"

My answer is, as always, rather personal. If you want to read my response, you'll have to visit Missy's blog, What Matters the Book.

Maybe it will inspire you to write your own letter to someone who means a lot to you.

Moments That Matter

2012-01-17T07:00:00.000-06:00

“And then…um, and then…um, and then…”

I sigh inwardly.

I am attempting to listen to my 8-year-old recount someevent of her school day. Something that was apparently very funny. But it isbeing lost in translation.

“Okay, I’ll start at the beginning. So at lunch today…um,ok…”

I contemplate my child’s brain function. Does she sufferfrom some kind of attention deficient disorder? Is this the result of hours ofplaying Plants vs Zombies? Is this why she needs to have a piece of technologyin her hands while waiting for another piece of technology to boot up?

Playing Plants vs Zombies on the iPad while waiting for Animal Jam to load on the laptop.

I nearly get up from my chair, to go do some household chorelike fold laundry or empty the dishwasher, knowing she will dutifully follow mearound, attempting to tell me the story of her day.

But instead, I still myself.

I look her in the eyes, something I hadn’t been doing. I had been looking down at my smartphone, checking my personal email while she triedto tell me this story. (Hmmm…I wonder where she gets this need for technologyto occupy her…)

I take in her deep brown eyes as they flicker back andforth, searching for words in the air. I watch her expression as she tries tograsp those words, and I wonder if her adorable little pixie chin will staythat shape when she hit puberty and everything about her body begins tochange. I watch her gestures as shebegins the story again, admiring her long fingers and the natural grace of hermovements.

And then something remarkable happens.

Her eyes catch mine, and she realizes she has my fullattention. She looks in my eyes and the story comes to her easily, in one fellswoop.

“At lunch today I was sitting next to my friend Ellie andCharlie was sitting across from us and then Charlie began playing with hisfood, and pretty soon he had made a little person out of his carrots and hispudding. But then the lunch lady saw it and told him he had to eat it, so hedid. It was so funny!”

And she looks at me with expectation, waiting for me tolaugh, which I do. I give her a hug and thank her for sharing her story withme.

Suddenly a story that I would have half-listened to for 20minutes and maybe would have remembered (but probably not) has become a moment.A brief one at that, but a moment that we have shared together, and it tells meso much about my daughter.

It tells me that she has friends, girls and boys who chooseto sit by her at lunch. She loves it when these friends make her laugh.Likewise, these kids probably enjoy making her laugh, and that’s a pretty goodbasis for a friendship when you’re in third grade.

These moments are what matter to me. And I am thankful for them.

*This post was inspired by a book written by a friend of mine called What Matters...Gratitude. If you're looking for inspiration, or an amazing, positive place to make you smile, check out her blog.

Why I'm Glad I'm Not Beyonce.

2012-01-11T07:00:00.000-06:00

Tonight I substituted tomato sauce for tomato soup in a recipe. I also threw in some chili powder, dried minced onions and garlic powder because it called for a cup of salsa and I only had half a cup before the jar went dry. (You can sense my fine culinary skills at work here, can't you?)

"That's it!" I stated. "Someone has to go grocery shopping."

And by someone, of course, I meant me.

Every once in a while I'll go grocery shopping after the kids are in bed. I'll leave the house around 8:30 and get back between 9:30 and 9:45 loaded for bear. It's amazing how much more efficient you can be when you're not jockeying every other person who had the same idea in the middle of a Saturday afternoon.

Tonight, I thought I might not want to get myself ready for bed after I come home, I may just want to fall into bed, exhausted from the day.

So I decided to get ready for bed BEFORE I left to go grocery shopping.

I brushed my teeth. I washed my face of all traces of make up and put my nighttime facial cream on. I took out my contacts. I would've changed into jammies but I was already wearing my signature yoga pants that I put on immediately upon arriving home from work all winter long, so that was already taken care of.

And off I went to the grocery store. I am sure I was a sight. After all, we all know how soft and creamy my skin looks without make-up and how I have absolutely no blemishes at all. My hair looks awesome held back by a headband with curls hanging out in every direction. And don't get me started on how beautiful my eyes look behind my 500-power glasses. Yeah baby!

And I was so glad I wasn't Beyonce.

Beyonce can't take two steps out of any building without someone snapping a photo of her. When she was pregnant (she delivered a healthy baby girl, by the way, name of Blue Ivy Carter) people kept trying to capture pictures of her "baby bump." By the time she finally started looking slightly pregnant she was weeks away from delivering a baby.

From when Beyonce announced her pregnancy at 5 months along. Yeah, right.

Photo credit: www.juicytings.com

I, on the other hand, can leave the house, blemishes and all, naked skin, yoga pants and clunky snow clogs, and no one cares. No one at all.

I am so lucky.

Because That's the Way I've Always Done It

2012-01-09T22:38:00.002-06:00

I love bacon.

It's ingrained in my olfactory nerves to LOVE the smell of fresh bacon. Growing up we could smell bacon cooking in our house seven days a week. It is still today a main staple of my dad's diet, though he's cut back to six days a week.

But I've always been confused by one thing.

Why do they make bacon so long when it can't lay flat in a frying pan?

And really, frying pans are round, so usually you can only lie one or two pieces flat in the middle, then if you want to get four or five pieces in the pan you have to curve them around the edges, then keep moving them around as they cook and shrink in size.

It never seemed to make much sense to me.

Over the years, if I found myself in a home goods store I would occasionally browse the cookware section for a pan specially made for frying bacon. You know, a square one, with decent-sized sides to keep the grease in. I have a stove top griddle that's square, but the edges are so short that the grease would be dripping down into the burner with the amount of bacon I cook at one time.

I never did find a bacon frying pan. Huh. Well, perhaps one day somebody will invent one. Someone came up with the PedEgg, right?

And then a month or so ago I had a good friend and our neighbor over for breakfast. I LOVE cooking breakfast for people. It's such a great, casual meal. The requirement was that they arrive in their pajamas or comfy clothes -- no getting dressed crap.

So they came down, enjoyed a cup of coffee, and watched as dish after dish was set on the table. Syrup. Butter. Scrambled eggs. Buttermilk pancakes. Sausage links. And finally, bacon.

"Wow," my friend said, "I've never seen bacon so long!"

"Really?" I said in surprise, "But that's how you buy bacon."

She shrugs. "Well, I could never get mine to fit in my pan, so I've always cut mine in half before frying it."

Oh. My. God.

I am an idiot of a colossal size. It's amazing I hold down a job.

It seriously never OCCURRED to me to cut the bacon in half. It was such a great example of how our brains (or perhaps just mine in particular) hold on to tradition; I had never even thought to question how I cook bacon.

For Christmas I received a shipment of meats from my dad, and in it was a couple of packets of maple flavored bacon. I couldn't wait to cook it up for breakfast with my family.

But first, I cut it in half. Guess what, it still tastes just as good as the long pieces.

It's not what you say, it's how you say it

2012-01-09T10:39:00.000-06:00

"Mom," says Lindsey in a serious tone, with a grave look on her face. "I'm excited to go back to school, but there's a boy in my grade who is kind of naughty and I'm not looking forward to seeing him again."

"Really?" I say cautiously, with a hundred questions swirling in my head. Does he tease her? Is he pulling her ponytail? Does he trip her in the hall? I can feel the momma bear in my chest ready to pounce. I know who this boy is: he isn't in her class but is in her grade. I see him every day at their after-school program when I pick up Lindsey. He always seems to be playing nicely with the other boys, but then those 30-second interactions can be deceiving.

"He's just not very nice," she says. "He's always saying, 'What the BLEEP!'"

"You mean he says a bad word?" I ask.

"No," Lindsey explains, "He says 'bleep.' But it still isn't very nice."

"So his actual words are 'What the BLEEP?'" I confirm.

"Yes," she says. "He's really mean."

We finally settle on the fact that it isn't what he says but the circumstances under which he says it which makes him mean in her mind. My advice to her is to avoid him, something she's apparently been pretty successful at doing up to this point anyway.

Those kids who say "bleep," though. Boy, what troublemakers.

So I Guess We Have a Nanny

2012-01-07T20:18:00.001-06:00

I never really saw us as a "nanny" family. Sure, there was the summer of 2008, when my husband's nephew's soon-to-be wife watched our kids all day, every day, for the entire summer. But she was family, well, almost, and has truly become family since that experience. So I wouldn't really call her a nanny.

But then this fall we ran into a problem.

We missed the deadline for signing the girls up for Minneapolis KIDS, the before and after school program at their school. Lindsey made it in luckily, but Marissa only made it in for the afternoon -- the morning was booked solid and she was number 19 on the waiting list.

With their school day starting at 9:40 a.m, it wasn't possible for either of us to flex our workday enough to make this happen once our commutes were taken into account. And really, what were the chances that we would be able to find someone willing to drive to our house to watch our daughter for an hour and a half? Every day?

Well, it was our only option, so we had to give it a shot.

I placed an ad on SitterCity.com and emailed a boatload of other Lake Harriet parents, asking for recommendations or resources. I found out that a woman just a block from us runs a daycare out of her house -- who knew?! So that was definitely an option, but it would mean Marissa would have to catch the bus from her house to school.

No bus, Marissa insisted. Especially without a big sister along to help her. And really, Marissa had only recently graduated from a daycare setting where she was constantly surrounded by toddlers, I wasn't happy about putting her back into that kind of environment again.

We kept searching.

I had a couple of people bite on the ads, but once they realized it was only for an hour and a half, they weren't interested. We did get one occasional babysitter out of it for evenings and weekends, she is LOVELY. Seriously, what 29-year-old married chemist with a masters degree wants to babysit other people's children? This one does, she loves kids so much. I suspect that some day soon she'll be having her own, but she's having too much fun playing in the lab right now to take the time.

Finally I thought of Katie, a woman I had met in social media circles. We were first acquainted on Twitter, and then had met at a couple of local social media networking events. She is looking for full-time work but, like a lot of college grads, opportunities are few and far between right now. She had already babysat the girls a couple of times, and they loved her. I tweeted her.

"Katie, by chance are you taking babysitting jobs?"

"Yes I am." was the reply. And we went from there.

Katie comes to our house every morning a little before 8:00, and she drives Marissa to school about 9:15. We bought a booster seat for Katie's car so we didn't have to worry about remembering to put one in there from one of our cars every day. It gives her a steady job, but also lots of free time for applications and interviews.

We all love it.

Marissa gets special one-on-one time with an adult, something she has been deprived of moreso than Lindsey, being the second child. When we discovered two weeks into the school year that Marissa had gotten the "homework teacher," as other parents described her, homework was able to be done in the mornings, with Katie's supervision. And when she started lagging in reading skills, she got extra reading time with Katie.

But more than that, she just plain has fun. They play. They dance. They practice yoga. I find crazy, silly videos on the iPad that the two of them made together. (I would post one but don't want to embarrass Katie!)

All this time I always said that Katie babysat her. But Katie will tell you she is Marissa's nanny.

That word.

It has such connotations, doesn't it? Of wealth. Of parents too busy to bother raising their own children. Of privilege. Of spoiled children. At least, those are the connotations that have been associated in my head, thanks in part to television and the fact that I never knew anyone growing up who had a nanny.

But truly, she IS her nanny. She spends time with her every day. And now, when Marissa draws pictures of our family, there are five of us (okay, six including the dog, when she includes the dog.) Mommy, Daddy, Lindsey, Marissa, Katie and Dax (sometimes, not in the picture below).

And that's pretty cool.

P.S. If you want to read Katie's perspective on what it's like to be a nanny, she wrote a guest post just this past week on the blog Minnesota Joy. Check it out!

Holiday Break Entertainment

2012-01-04T08:32:00.000-06:00

For some reason, during this past holiday break my children have been playing together like best friends. I shouldn't sound so surprised, but anyone who's followed this blog knows the challenges we've had in getting these two to get along.
Yet they've been incredible lately, making up new games and entertaining each other to no end.

I give you the following examples.

I found these little buttons all over their room and the hallways upstairs. I was escorted upstairs to take the elevator. We stood outside Marissa's room and pushed the "up" button. She then opened her bedroom door, we entered and closed the door, then pushed which floor we wanted from the inside of the room. There was even a special bar to hold on to as the elevator moved us up the floors. She re-opened the door and we went into the hallway, now on the 29th floor of the building.

I hadn't realized our house was 29 stories tall.

Another time I was treated to a fashion show, compliments of the trunk of dress-up clothes that had been a birthday present for Marissa when she was 3 or 4. And the clothes are meant to fit 3 or 4 year-olds, not 6 and 8 year-olds.

I was given photographer status and escorted to my seat in the front row so I could have a clear shot of the models as they walked the runway and waved.

Finally, there are the squishies that have been resurrected from Lindsey's room. Lindsey had gotten a load of them for her birthday this past spring and promptly stored them in her room and forgot about them. Until now. Now they talk to each other, they take each other to the hospital where other squishies are given nurse and doctor status and care for the injured squishies. They are driven around by Disney princesses in a Barbie car or Dora van to their various appointments and playdates.

In the meantime, Wayne and I sit in close proximity to the action, reading or otherwise engaged, and enjoy the quiet moments of sisterly laughter and imaginary play.

How sweet it is.

Faves of 2011

2012-01-01T07:00:00.001-06:00

Everyone else is doing it, guess I may as well jump off this bridge, too.

Top blog posts of 2011, some of which were written in 2010.

The Definition of Wild Abandon This one is tops because people keep Googling "the definition of wild abandon" and getting to this very short post. I don't think it's what they want, but it does the job in a single photo. Wild abandon? Got it.

The Less Than Ideal Workplace In which I stand on my blogbox about overcrowding in the Minneapolis Public Schools. We did eventually get approval to put an addition on. By the time it is built it will accommodate the student population of 2011, even though it will open in 2014, which has even higher projected enrollment levels. Don't get me started.

A Love Story to the End To honor the memory of my feisty and smart-ass aunt who lost her battle with cancer this past winter. I thought of her immediate family members all this holiday season, and imagine that her loss is felt all the more this time of year.

A Party of Princesses Seriously, who can resist these adorable photos of 6-year-olds in princess dresses?

Life in Even Numbers Every two years I realize how quickly the last two years flew by. At least I have pictures and a blog to record the passing of time, and reflect on it with a smile.

I Have Not Done My Patriotic Duty This one's from 2010 as well, but it seems appropriate considering we're coming into another election year. Which is worse, not voting or being an uninformed voter? I suspect that the majority of us are actually uninformed voters, based on the crud that gets covered on broadcast TV. And by the way, yes, TV is still Americans' #1 source of "news." Sad.

Reflections on Christmas

2011-12-31T07:59:00.000-06:00

The gifts become a blur.
The wrappings are stripped away in a flurry of activity.

The boxes are tossed aside and trappings of the toys are hastily removed and discarded.

What will we remember?

Smiles.

Snuggles.

Sharing.

Playing.

Family.

The Season of Giving

2011-12-24T06:06:00.001-06:00

I had an interesting discussion with my co-worker yesterday about teaching our children about the spirit of Christmas giving. Her kids, ages 13 and 15, were spending the 23rd out shopping with their dad, looking for the perfect gift for each other and for their mom (my co-worker).

My kids, ages 6 and 8, do not shop for each other or for us. I remember being a child and buying presents for my parents and my sister, but don't remember at what age we started doing that. I distinctly remember the year I bought my dad a hammer. I wrapped the box so carefully and it turned out gorgeous, with perfectly angled corners and a ribbon tied just so. I couldn't wait to give it to him, but as I carried it to the tree I realized it was lighter than it should be. I had forgotten to put the hammer in the box! And I didn't want to ruin my wrapping job and re-wrap it.

No worries.

On Christmas morning, I handed Dad the box to open -- he joked about how light it felt and wondered if there was a gift inside. Little did he know there wasn't! He opened it, searched in the tissue paper for a while, and then I ran upstairs and got the present out from under my bed while the family laughed. It was the most memorable gift he received that morning. (At least to me it was.)

I don't remember the shopping excursions, and in most cases I don't remember the gifts I gave others. But I remember the stories like that one which fills the years with fond memories of Christmas.

Are we depriving our children of this same joy by not teaching them yet to give to others?

Yet I feel like they already have that spirit.

Every day for the past week and a half they've been coming home from school with various "treasures." Usually these treasures are of the paper kind, little love notes and drawings that they made especially for us. Marissa made a photo frame with a picture of her in it that she could not WAIT for me to open, so we didn't.

I've always told the kids that the best things they could give us are the homemade things, not something that comes from a store.

On Black Friday this year consumers spent $52.4 billion to kick off the holiday season. That's billion with a "b." Imagine the good that money could have done if we had spent it on something other than ourselves.

I think I'm okay that they aren't buying presents for others yet.

Minneapolis: Big Town with a Big Heart

2011-12-16T05:46:00.001-06:00

I've said it before I'll say it again: I love where we live. Even as winter descends upon us and we brace ourselves for bumper-to-bumper snowy commutes, and cold that takes your breath away and freezes the hairs on your face, I love it.

Here's a great example why.

I am on the email list for the Minneapolis Police 5th Precinct. On the other end of this email list are two Crime Prevention Specialists. They work with investigating police to enlist the help of the public to solve crimes.

Yesterday they sent out an email asking for assistance in gathering evidence for a burglary suspect:

On December 13, 2011, a suspected burglar was apprehended in the 3^rd Precinct with several items of interest in his possession. One item was a camera that may have been taken in a burglary but we are unable to find a police report on this item. The camera is an Olympus Stylius. There are pictures from Vicksburg, MS of the Union Trench Matthies JJ Woods Brigade Historical Marker, one with a white male and female walking in the trench. If you are the owner of this property, please call Ofc. Goligowski at 612/673-XXXX.
Attached to this email is a document with a picture of the Vicksburg battlefield.

I'm pretty sure the police in my hometown of 7,000 people doesn't do this. Maybe they do, but if so, I would expect that of a police department serving 7,000 people, not of one that serves several hundred thousand. They aren't asking for assistance in solving a murder or an assault, but burglary, which is probably one of the lower priority crimes Minneapolis has to solve every year.

The best part was that a few hours later they had been flooded with so many calls they sent another email out to clarify:

We have been getting numerous calls from people asking if the camera we recoverd is theirs. The photos in the camera were taken in 2011, probably in March, in Vicksburg Mississippi at the Union Trench Battle field. If you weren't at that battle site, this camera is not yours.

Yep, there we go, showing our lack of reading comprehension skills as a public, and I'm sure that fielding all of those calls was frustrating. Yet the possible benefits of getting the public's help outweighed that hassle, and they had still reached out to us.

Earlier this year we were informed that the Crime Prevention Specialist positions in the 5th precinct were on the table to be cut by the city. Budgets are tight everywhere, and Minneapolis was looking to the police department to be a part of cutting costs. The reason the 5th precinct was selected is because it is one of the safest areas of the city, and the resources in other areas are considered more critical to save.

It's kind of like saying that people who are physically fit don't need to work out. They are physically fit BECAUSE they work out, hello...

Because our two Crime Prevention Specialists have been the faces and voices of the MPD for this area, the public rallied. We showed up at budget meetings, wrote letters to the police chief and mayor and had tangible examples of all the ways the CPS positions have helped to keep this area of the city as safe as it is.

The positions were preserved, and we all got a touching email from the two people whose jobs had just been saved.

Now that's community.

Reindeer Run

2011-12-06T08:30:00.001-06:00

This past Saturday I ran the Reindeer Run 5k with a friend who I met at Halloween. In our first meeting I discovered that she is a runner and has had her eye on the Reindeer Run as her next race. So we agreed to sign up together and dress up.

I found some Santa hats with leopard print trim -- sure, why not?

We had a lot of fun -- Lindsey's 30 mins 22 second 5k still stands as the record between her races and my own.

Our running gear was pretty tame in comparison to others. There were some who were *not* dressed up for the run.

Yes, seriously, we saw this guy. he arrived just as the race was starting. I would've too if the largest piece of my costume was my boots. It was 28 degrees at the start -- brrrr!

My Beautiful Girls

2011-12-05T07:00:00.002-06:00

Without planning it, the girls happened to dress similarly one day, both in shades of black and gray, as had I (with the exception of a scarf to add some color.) We thought it was so funny we decided to take some pictures to document the event.

I love the headbands with similar red flowers, both of which were purchased in Tracy over Thanksgiving weekend.

They are growing up so quickly.

First Snow

2011-12-04T21:14:00.000-06:00

We finally got our first snow of any substance this past weekend. It was supposed to be a trace, it was more like 3 inches. It began around 3 o'clock in the afternoon, and didn't finish up until after midnight.

I had been down at a neighbor's house that evening, and left her home to walk back to mine around 9:30. I walked outside to find 4 or 5 neighbors outside, shoveling, walking dogs or playing in the snow. It was a festive atmosphere, yet still quiet with the hush of new fallen snow.

My photo doesn't do it justice.

Speedster

2011-11-28T21:53:00.000-06:00

I've done all of 4 or 5 5ks runs in my life, starting with my first last November in the middle of a snowstorm. Remember that one?

Good times. No really, it was actually a lot of fun.

I'd like to say I've gotten faster since then, but not really. I spend most of my workout effort inline skating. After all, I really don't like running and it doesn't like me. If I'm ever out running and I see someone out skating I get envious that they're skating while I'm running. Well duh, get your skates on then, Jenny!

But skating is definitely a seasonal sport, and I have to find something to keep myself in shape when I can't skate, so I'm going to try to keep running over the winter.

And now, I've got competition.

Lindsey ran her first ever 5k the day after Thanksgiving. It was a run organized by someone in Wayne's running group to benefit an after-school program for low-income kids called A.C.E.S. They had an award for the fastest youth runner, and Lindsey won it.

She completed a 5k in 30 minutes and 22 seconds, or an average pace of 9:40.

She couldn't wait to get home to show me her 1st prize award, a small cowbell from a Ragnar run. And now she's writing an essay for school about how her first 5k time is 5 minutes faster than her mom's.

I think I have some training to do.

Lindsey on a "training run" with Dax on Thanksgiving Day.

Zombie Dog

2011-11-28T21:25:00.001-06:00

After reporting several months ago that our beloved dog Dax has a serious eye condition, he is still here with us, with a new nickname: Zombie Dog.

His eye which has a floating lens in it goes from looking normal to being milky white in color. Usually after a few days it goes back to normal.

He definitely isn't seeing much out of that eye. It's easy to surprise him if you come up on his right. To let him back in the house after letting him out I slowly open the door until it hits him in the shoulder, because he doesn't see that it's opening until he feels the door on him.

He is snuggly and tolerant as ever to our girls, to whom his advancing age means nothing.

What a sweetie.

Thanksgiving Memories

2011-11-28T06:30:00.000-06:00

For the second year, our family spent Thanksgiving just the four of us before heading to Wayne's hometown to celebrate with his family. In years past Thanksgiving at the Horsman's was overwhelming; grandkids playing and running around, a living room full of toys, a family room filled with bodies watching some holiday special on TV.

This year, it was just us, Wayne's parents and Wayne's sister, Sherrie. All the grandkids are grown and gone with the exception of our two, with their own families in all four corners of the country. A new great grandbaby was added to the family just last week, so one family was gathered in Colorado to welcome her to the world. Another grandchild was recovering from major brain surgery, and her family was gathered by her side in Rochester, MN, to celebrate and help out. Others gathered at their in-law's, and that left just us.

It was quiet; well, at least to us it was quiet. We bring our own noise with us wherever we go, named Lindsey and Marissa. We are so accustomed to their play that we do not realize how loud it can be to those who don't spend as much time with kids their age. Wayne's parents have 10 grandchildren and, with the latest addition, 8 great-grandchildren! It's funny to think that our two girls are closer in age to their cousins' children than to their cousins.

It was a wonderful holiday. I made the full traditional Thanksgiving dinner at our house on Thursday, for just the four of us. Lindsey piled mashed potatoes so high on her plate I couldn't imagine that one little girl could eat them all -- she couldn't. Marissa dug in to the cranberry jelly like it was candy (okay, so it kind of is). Marissa wore her pajamas all day, including for the dinner. That's what holidays are for!

Friday we headed down to Tracy and had a spaghetti dinner that evening which I had made ahead of time to bring down. Saturday the girls got to spend the morning with Aunt Sherrie, making Christmas cookies and eating donuts from the Tracy bakery. That afternoon we had another Thanksgiving meal, this one was of chicken casserole with salad and pie. (Thanksgiving is about who you're with, not what you eat.)

We spent the afternoon playing Quiddler, chatting and snoozing. A perfect time together with family.

Our Star Student

2011-11-25T07:51:00.000-06:00

The week before Thanksgiving Marissa was selected to be star student in her class. Each child has an opportunity to be star student throughout the year, usually the week of his or her birthday. Apparently there were no birthdays that week, so Marissa's teacher selected her to be the star student, since she's got a summer birthday. The star student has to complete a poster about him or herself, and then gets special privileges all week like being the line leader and being the teacher's special helper.

Marissa was so happy to be selected! She brought home the poster and pulled it out to work on right away. What's her favorite color? Favorite food? Favorite vacation? She couldn't wait to share with her classmates. We looked through all of our pictures, carefully selecting which three would have the honor of being printed and taped to the poster.

Once it was complete she practiced presenting it with each of us several times a day. This is all over one weekend, mind you. This is the most Marissa has been excited about doing schoolwork -- ever. She was most excited about the end of the presentation, when she gets to say, "Any questions?"

Finally, it was Monday. The girl practically leaped out of bed, so excited to go to school and do her star student poster presentation.

She wore a special outfit with brand new sparkly tights that we'd purchased over the weekend.

I couldn't wait to pick her up that evening to ask how it went.

It went well, she reported. The favorite part that she told me about was when she said, "Any questions?" One little girl raised her hand and said how she also had gone to DisneyWorld.

Marissa's reply was, "That's not a question, that's a comment."

Nice teaching, Ms. Perez!

We're very proud of our star student.

Thankful

2011-11-24T07:26:00.000-06:00

It's been a while since I've written -- a little too much time taken up by Plants vs. Zombies, perhaps?

For all the silly little side stories and catching up I need to do, I just have one word for today: thankful.

I am thankful for things both big and small in my life. I do not know how I got to be so lucky.

A very blessed Thanksgiving Day to you all.

An Open Letter to Somebody Bigger Than Me

2011-11-11T10:59:00.000-06:00

Hey You,

I just wanted to say "thanks" for making me strong and healthy. I appreciate that you think I'm such a strong person that you gave me all these burdens, but I am writing to tell you this: it's a bit much.

Thank you for making me a caring person. But I care too much sometimes, and I think have taken on more than I can handle.

My friend's 6-year-old daughter is having a bone marrow transplant today. My dad is in the final stages of treatment for cancer which by all accounts seems to have been eradicated. Thanks, by the way, for giving us human beings the smarts to be able to figure out how to treat this awful disease. If it weren't for the decades of research and work that had been done up to this point we wouldn't know how to diagnose or treat these two people who mean so much to me. I think of my uncle who is dealing with life after losing his wife to a 6-year battle with this disease, and wonder if he is lonely and how he is adjusting. At the same time, I found out that a neighbor of a friend of mine was just diagnosed with cancer, this just months after bringing home a baby she adopted from Africa. She is wondering who will take care of her child if she isn't here to do it.

My friend lost her baby at birth to a terrible disorder, and I think of her daily as she is home on her maternity leave, grappling with her grief.

Another friend of mine is miraculously rejoining life after a traumatic brain injury this summer.

Two people who are close to me have had depression enter their lives, and I think of them and wish I could help them when they feel hopeless, and worry that they will take the ultimate step of ending that depression.

I am thankful for all the good that has come of some of these situations, and am saddened yet and burdened by others.

So I'm going to unsaddle.

I'm going to hand these burdens over to you. I appreciate that you think I can handle them, but I can't. I can't fix them, I can't help them, I can only sit on the sidelines and watch what's going on. I feel helpless. So I'm going to give this over to you and ask you to help if you can.

Thanks so much.

Tooth Fairy Debunked

2011-11-09T11:22:00.000-06:00

Marissa finally has her first loose tooth, at age 6 1/2. She is excited to be wiggling it and takes her tooth box to school every day in case it goes from just a bit wiggly to falling out of her mouth.

But I am sad to report that she let me know that she knows that I'm the tooth fairy! She hasn't even lost her first tooth yet! She said that Daddy told her this. I have not yet confirmed this with him, but I suspect her friends who have already lost 4 or 6 teeth have figured out that their parents are and have shared this with her.

Regardless, whenever the day comes, she will have a note under her pillow and a dollar from the tooth fairy. And she'll probably have a big smudge of a kiss on her face, because that tooth fairy loves to snuggle up kids while they're sleeping. I can't blame her.

Fall Traditions

2011-10-30T19:45:00.000-05:00

We had to buy new pumpkins this year.

Lindsey and I decided that zombie squirrels live in our neighborhood. They are zombies because they like to eat pumpkin brains.

Our pumpkins weren't carved, but that didn't keep the squirrels from eating right through them and making a feast of the pumpkin flesh and seeds.

So I bought a new pumpkin yesterday and we brought the survivors inside for carving.

While Lindsey loved getting up to her elbow in pumpkin guts, Marissa took a more conservative route.

Yes, those are rubber gloves.

After readying the pumpkins for carving we took a little walk with Dax to see the last of the fall colors. They were brilliant.

Then back in to see if the pumpkin seeds are done. They were warm and crisp from the oven.

Tomorrow will be the unveiling of the carved pumpkins. Nothing fancy, but lots of fun.

Evil Hair Days

2011-10-29T08:29:00.001-05:00

Don't get me wrong, I love my curly hair. But sometimes it has a mind of its own.

And when it decides to go its own way, the results tend to turn out, well, evil.

Because when my hair misbehaves, it tends to resemble the hairstyles of various nemeses in books and movies.

Take this classic look, for instance.

Flattop, from Dick Tracy.

I achieved this one when I didn't pay attention while diffusing my hair one morning. I ended up with a bunch of curls on the outer sides of my face but the top of my hair was still flat.

Or this one.

Javier Bardem as Anton Chigurh in "No Country for Old Men"

This one I managed to create when I decided to straighten my hair one morning, but I don't have a really good flat iron to do so. I kid you not, my hair looked exactly like this.

And I've managed to achieve this look several times.

Cesar Romero as The Joker in "Batman"

Yes, my hair will curl this way, especially on its own while I'm sleeping. It's crazy and sticks out in all directions, and wobbles in one big wave when I move.

The good part of having curly hair is that most mornings I wash it, I put a little product in it and let it dry on its own. Half an hour later I add a couple of spritzes of hairspray to keep it from frizzing throughout the day and I'm ready to go.

But when my hair decides to be bad, it is evil.

Listening to Ourselves

2011-10-25T22:17:00.000-05:00

Tonight when I picked up my youngest from school I noticed right away that she was wearing some borrowed pants. Sure enough, near the end of the day she had an accident because she didn't make it to the bathroom on time. This after having an accident at the roller rink a couple of weeks ago and nearly having an accident while apple picking. She clearly isn't listening to the signals her body is giving her about having to go before it becomes an emergency situation.

As we walked to the car we talked a little bit about listening to our bodies. I said how our bodies tell us when we're hungry, when we're tired, and also when we need to go potty.

"Mama!" she says fiercely, "Nobody is in my body talking to me!"

I couldn't help but laugh.

She then informed me how her stomach told her when she was hungry, and her eyes told her when she was tired. She even demonstrated how her eyes half close when she's tired. But apparently no one lives in her bladder, because her bladder doesn't talk to her.

"My body only tells me two things: when I'm hungry and when I'm tired."

I hope she figures this out, but in the meantime it was an amusing conversation.

Halloween Festivities

2011-10-23T22:32:00.000-05:00

This year, I had an awesome idea for a Halloween costume.

A little history first.

Four Halloweens ago I dressed up as Amy Winehouse. This was when she was at the height of her career, with hits on the radio and a Grammy under her belt. Shortly after she began making news for her unsavory drug habit, for which she eventually went to rehab. It apparently didn't take, because she was found dead of an apparent drug overdose on July 23rd of this year.

And thus my costume idea for this year.

My problem was that I had nowhere to wear it. So I decided to create a place to wear it, and hosted a Halloween party with a few friends.

We scheduled the party for this weekend, when my sister was visiting from Indiana. She arrived in Minneapolis on Tuesday of this past week and spent three days with our girls during a break from school. They had an amazing time, going to the Children's Museum, going shopping, making dinner for us in the evening. We were utterly spoiled by her presence.

And because Kristi is an amazing, outgoing person, she packed a costume and was ready for the party with people she's never met.

Back to my costume idea.

Here is the original, circa 2007.

(Damn blogger, won't let it display in portrait. Tilt your head and deal.)

And yesterday's updated look.

Yes, Amy's been zombified.

What do you mean I'm dead?

Other players of the party were:

Kristi, court jester.
Lindsey, big bad wolf in grandma's clothing.
Marissa, the wicked witch.

Wayne dressed as himself, though he did pull out the orange Monster Dash t-shirt that had a skeleton on the front.

The party was a smash, with princesses, ballerinas, witches and others running around the house and on the swing outside, while adults in various costumes nibbled on food and visited over a beer or glass of wine.
It was a great time. Who knows, if someone else famous that I can imitate dies next year, we may just have to do it again. I've got a whole stack of "undead" make up to use up.

Restaurant Night

2011-10-22T09:41:00.000-05:00

What do you do when you have a frig full of meals?

You have restaurant night!

This restaurant night was very special, because it was organized by my sister, Kristi, who helped the girls make actual menus earlier in the day.

What is restaurant night, you ask?

This is our family's way of dealing with leftovers. All available meals become items on a menu that people can select. They are reheated in the kitchen by the "cook" and served by the littlest servers. It's been a great way to make leftovers a fun meal.

When it came time to run the restaurant, I got to be one of the patrons sitting down instead of the one in the kitchen.

Why yes, you can take my drink order, thank you.

A serving of quinoa sounds delicious.

And dessert, compliments of Sweet Retreat? Yum!

What a fabulous meal!

My Dog's Guide

2011-10-18T07:21:00.000-05:00

I like to call him our first-born.

After all, he was born in 1998, a whole 5 years before either of our daughters, neither of whom know life without him in it.

I wrote a while ago about how he has an eye problem which requires an expensive surgery, one we have opted not to do. His quality of life is impacted, but as long as his eye condition is controlled with medication and drops, the condition is not painful nor life-threatening. This is what we've chosen to do, for as long as we can.

One day this past week Dax awoke early and wanted to start his day. I could hear him snorting and sniffing for attention from his sleeping companion, my daughter. Before he could wake her I got up and carried him to the top of the stairs, then set him on the floor to walk down the stairs, like he usually does. I started down the stairs but he didn't follow me. I looked back to find him sniffing and searching for the top step, reaching a paw uncertainly in front of him to try to feel his way.

I carried him all the way down the stairs and to the side door. I set him on the floor again and opened the door, only to have him not find his way out the door. On and on this went until eventually I had to carry him out to the back patio for him to relieve himself, then carried him back in. He found his breakfast by smell, and then found his way to the rug for his treat by routine alone.

It was pitiful. And thankfully it was temporary.

Once the day got started and more lights were turned on, his vision seemed to return and he was able to move around again with confidence. I can only guess that his limited vision is impacted by low light levels, and returns once there is more light.

He has always been a companion dog, preferring his humans to being alone, but he is more so now. He follows me around constantly, mirroring my every move as I go up stairs and down, cooking or doing laundry, or putting the kids to bed. If I am sitting in a chair he can access he will jump up and make himself comfortable right next to me. If he can't sit next to me, he will stand or sit near my feet.

I have come to realize that I am my dog's guide. I hope I am a good guide in the autumn of his years.

Apples vs Pumpkins

2011-10-16T08:50:00.000-05:00

Our family trek to Afton Apple this year to pick apples was taken over by pumpkins.

Did you know that when four people pick you can fill an apple bag to the top in about 5 minutes? And our time among apple trees was cut short by Marissa's announcement the minute we were dropped off in the orchard that she had to go potty -- immediately. This after refusing to go potty before we left the house, at the Subway we had lunch at on the way there, or at the main entrance of the apple orchard when we first arrived.

We miraculously made it back to the main building in time and then were able to enjoy the rest of the day. There were hay bales to climb on, a petting zoo, and a playground partially made of farm equipment.

There also was a pumpkin patch, where the girls spent lots of time picking out the perfect pumpkins.

Lindsey fell asleep in the car on the way back, and took a nearly two-hour nap once we arrived home. She awoke in time to eat my favorite fall meal: stuffed pork chops with mashed potatoes and gravy, followed by a piece of homemade apple pie.

It was a great way to spend a beautiful, crisp fall day.

Goodnight, Moon

2011-10-15T21:01:00.000-05:00

These Warm Autumn Days

2011-10-13T07:30:00.002-05:00

Saturday morning.

Sunday morning.

Yes, the leaves did eventually get raked up and bagged. And by the next morning you couldn't tell.

Chloe's Fight: Worth Running For

2011-10-11T22:14:00.000-05:00

Some of my friends were looking for a race to do together this fall. For fun, you know. Because some people do that. Not usually people I know, but I must've fallen in with the wrong crowd.

Anyway...one of my friends knows a board member of a nonprofit called Chloe's Fight. At the same time, my friend Anita's sister has been deeply involved in organizing Chloe's Fight's first 5k fundraising event. This was destined to be the run for us, so we all signed up.

The ladies -- husbands and children roaming elsewhere.

A little about Chloe's Fight: It is a nonprofit created by Phillip and Erica Barnes to honor their daughter Chloe, who died at age 2 from complications from metachromatic leukodystrophy, or MLD. MLD makes the myelin sheath covering the nerves in the brain slowly degenerate, resulting in loss of gross motors skills to loss of mental capacity, and is usually fatal.

All proceeds from the run will be directed to one of two research projects, one of which is being conducted at the University of Minnesota.

In speaking to Anita's sister, they had only 100 runners signed up until the week before the run, when 300 more people signed up. They ultimately ended up with 500 runners and raised more than $16,000 that day.

The best part? Anita was there, donating her artistic talents to solicit more revenue at the event. She did henna art and glitter tattoos for the kids.

So after completing the 5k in record time (for me, that is), I cut in line in front of a whole bunch of kids to get henna.

Actually, Anita had a break in her littlest customers so I could take my turn.

Anita does amazing work, all free hand. One of her goals in life is to go to India and study with experts in the art of henna. I'm sure some day she'll get there.

Oh yeah, my "record" time? I completed the race in 33 minutes and 34 seconds, or a pace of 10:49. Running usually causes extreme pain in my left knee (one of the reasons why skating is my sport). My knee will miraculously stop aching the minute I stop running: I take that as a sign that I shouldn't run. My knee didn't start aching until the 2 1/2 mile mark, so it was the fastest 5k I've done.

It was an incredible day, filled with friendship, beautiful weather, a good run and a great cause.

Picture Day

2011-10-07T21:47:00.000-05:00

Around here, every day is picture day.

Our girls are accustomed to my pulling out my camera about every other day. They make their own videos on our iPad. They mug and preen and pose.

But today was picture day at school, not at home, and that made it special.

Lindsey made a check list last night of things to do to get ready for it: Set alarm. Get dressed. Comb hair.

Marissa, on the other hand, picked out her clothes the night before and slept until 7:38 so that she would be well rested for her big photo shoot. We let Marissa wear a fancy dress that she's wanted to wear to school other days but we don't let her.

Of course, I had to take pictures before the pictures, because the girls made such an occasion of this day.

I can't wait to see if the actual pictures turned out.

Twin Cities Marathon

2011-10-03T08:00:00.007-05:00

I had the easy part -- I stood in one place and cheered.

Twelve thousand runners, on the other hand, were out to put 26.2 miles behind them.

Wayne and I both knew lots of people who were running it and I wanted to head down to the course to cheer some of them on. Wayne stayed back with two sleepy girls, while I packed up a coffee and a cowbell and headed out on my bike.

If you've never witnessed or cheered at an endurance event, please find an opportunity to do so. You will find inspiration.

There was the guy whose shirt said "90 days chemo-free." There was the older gentleman whose shirt read "I'm 60: first-time marathoner." There were tons of shirts for DetermiNation (American Cancer Society), Team in Training (Leukemia & Lymphoma Society), JDRF (Juvenile Diabetes Research Fund) and a host of other charities literally raising money on the backs of their supporters.

We knew a few people who were running with others to help them reach their marathon goal, be it 3 hours or 5 hours. A friend we met through Wayne's Minnesota Running Wild group paced a group of first-time marathoners to their very first finish. I saw a man running who looked about 50 pounds overweight, but there he was running along with everyone else.

A middle-grader, who was there to cheer on his uncle, pulled out his trumpet and sheet music and began alternately playing the theme songs from Rocky and the Star Wars. The best part was that he clearly is in second chair, so he didn't play the melody but the harmony in the songs. Obviously entertaining to the runners, who were smiling and laughing as they ran by.

Every time a pace group went by I was amazed by the crowd of runners. How do they run this close together? And people thought I was crazy for drafting while skating!

I couldn't believe the water stop at mile 7 -- I have never seen so many people lined up holding our cups of water. The ground was littered with so many cups I was surprised runners weren't slipping and falling down.

Only half the water stop -- I couldn't get all the volunteers in one shot.

After the majority of the crowd had passed by I took off on my bike and hit Caribou to pick up some freshly ground coffee to re-stock our kitchen, then biked home. I had to stop along the way, though, to capture some of the beautiful fall colors.

I got back home an hour and a half later to find two girls still parked in front of the TV, snuggled up under their covers. I managed to tear them away with a homemade breakfast of french toast, scrambled eggs and sausage. What a wonderful way to start my day.

2011-10-02T22:04:00.000-05:00

Where else but at the Renaissance Festival can you find fairies, burlies and jousting, all in one place?

Our family managed to spend 7 hours there on Saturday. We listened to singers. We heard and saw silly actors and actresses in various hijinks. We yelled "huzzah!" upon request.

The girls got special facepainting and we ran into one of Lindsey's friends there, which was lots of fun.

We made a special purchase for both the girls of a Renaissance dress, which both of them plan to use in various ways as Halloween costumes. They spun and twirled around all day long, glowing under the compliments of passersbys who said how beautiful they were.

What a wonderful way to spend the first Saturday in October.

Easy On, Not Easy Off

2011-09-27T04:19:00.000-05:00

I am sure I've mentioned on this blog how incredibly fortunate I am that I have not had issues with my weight. I have never had to seriously diet, and simply eat as I usually do and keep active to maintain my weight. Now? Well...

Back in January I was diagnosed with a condition called Hashimoto's disease.

Sounds terrible, doesn't it?

It's actually so NOT terrible that I forgot to tell my dad I had it. It's basically a thyroid condition in which my body attacks my own thyroid (don't you know it's one of your own?!) and prevents it from creating the hormones my body needs to operate at optimal efficiency. While there isn't much doctors can do to keep my body from attacking the thyroid, it's easily treated with thyroid hormone replacement drugs.

Symptoms of Hashimoto's include fatigue, irregular bowel movements, weight gain and irritability. The only symptom I had was irritability (someone hand mama a drink!) so I was somewhat surprised when this diagnosis came back. I began taking the thyroid meds and the irritability got better. Who knows if that's actually related to the thyroid condition, maybe it's related to my kids not standing on my last nerve.

Then I developed that pesky third symptom: weight gain.

I managed to pack on 10 pounds in 6 months. Me, who has never in my life gained weight unless I was growing a baby.

What. The. Hell.

I managed to gain this weight during my most active time of year; summer. I trained a minimum of 20 miles of skating each week for at least 8 weeks while preparing for the NorthShore Inline marathon, not to mention a couple of 5ks, running around with the kids, and normal crazy summertime stuff, including going to the pool wearing a swimsuit. A swimsuit, I say!

What is going to happen when I start hibernating in a couple of months?

This is not "toning up" weight; there is nothing "tone" about a muffin top hanging out over the top of my pants. My pants which are now too tight which I refuse to replace because I do NOT wear the next size up, I don't care how comfortable they are! Seriously, who can afford to gain this kind of weight? I certainly don't have money to spend on a brand new wardrobe.

I went back to the endocrinologist and they agreed -- yep, I've gained a surprising amount of weight in a short time frame. They are doing another screening and expect to find that my thyroid production has reduced again due to continual antibody attacks (again, it's YOU, what are you doing, antibodies?) and that they'll need to increase my thyroid dosage.

This does not make the weight I have already gained come off magically. It just means I should stop gaining weight.

Guess what takes the weight off? Taking in fewer calories than you burn.

*Simmer. Fume.*

Fine.

So I have begun counting calories, a good first step to determining what I'll do next. Because I will tell you what I won't do: diet. I won't follow some plan that I can only actually follow for a few weeks or months and then will eventually go back to my "regular" eating in which I'll put the weight back on that I just took off. I would rather adjust my daily intake to something I can stick with and track my activity to make sure I'm burning more than I'm ingesting.

I've only just begun but I can already tell you one of my guilty pleasures that I'll be saying good-bye to: Caribou. Fare thee well, oh medium skim mochas with Guittard dark chocolate and whipped cream! How I love thee, but alas, you are too bad for me. (340 calories, yowza.)

I may update this blog again with progress, I may not. In the big scheme of things, it's really not that important. There are people out there who set for themselves much more daunting weight-loss goals, who wish to lose 20, 50, even 100 pounds to get their health back. I bow to them in admiration for the commitment and willpower that it takes to set and reach those goals. Now THAT'S an achievement.

So while I've got one goal ahead of me, I'll look back and reflect on one goal I've already achieved this year.

The final 100 meters of the inline marathon.

Kinda Proud. A Little.

2011-09-25T09:05:00.003-05:00

Okay, so I don't plan on getting a tattoo anytime soon, like my husband did to commemorate his qualifying for the Boston marathon.

But I am kinda proud of my recent accomplishment of completing an inline skating marathon. So I commemorated it by buying a couple of magnetic bumper stickers for my car.

I couldn't find a sticker that put the skating and the 26.2 together, so I did the best I could.

Left side.

Right side.

"Real" marathoners might be offended that I claim to have done a full 26.2 when I skated it instead of running it.

Tough shit.

Marissa Time

2011-09-24T20:53:00.001-05:00

Lindsey is at a friend's slumber party tonight. The perfect opportunity for Wayne and I to get special time with just Marissa, our second child. Our "ignored" child. Our "I don't get as much time with you as Lindsey gets" child.

We celebrated by going out to one of Marissa's new favorite restaurants, Olive Garden. She got to order anything she wanted. She talked to us whenever she wanted, with no interruptions from an older sister who also wanted to tell us the latest news.

She ate as much as she wanted, and holy cow, that child can eat.

Best of all, when we got home she got to play with her toys all by herself, and she is amazing at entertaining herself (and us). She sat and sang and played for an hour or more until we finally had to say it was bedtime. She puts vibrato into her voice when she sings, and it is adorable. She makes up songs with silly words, and it is precious.

She got kisses and kisses and kisses galore.

What a wonderful evening.

We are Hard-Wired

2011-09-23T12:16:00.000-05:00

We are all products of our environment. Or are we?

My sister and I often talk about how different we are, yet we grew up in the same family. "Isn't it strange?" we both laugh, we can't believe sometimes that we came from the same set of parents. Clearly, some of those differences are hard-wired into us.

I am finding the same in my two girls, and it is fascinating.

Great example:

One of the expectations of Lindsey and all her other 3rd grade classmates is that they will read independently for 20 minutes every night. Each evening Lindsey records what she read, how many pages, and one of us has to sign it.

This is not a hard task for Lindsey -- she LOVES to read. Her reading list of books she wants to tackle next is longer than mine. She's got the Laura Ingalls Wilder set, the C.S. Lewis "Chronicles of Narnia" set, and now she has discovered Roald Dahl, author of "James and the Giant Peach," and is currently picking up every Roald Dahl book she can get her hands on.

The first night this instruction and the corresponding chart came home Lindsey couldn't wait to start filling it out. Lindsey wanted to use a timer to track her minutes so she could accurately record how much she reads.

"Mom," she calls, "Set the timer for 25 minutes."

"25 minutes? But you only have to read for 20."

"I know, but I want to do more than that. Set it for 25."

What is it in her that makes her, at age 8, want to exceed her teacher's expectations? We didn't tell her she had to do more, she set that goal for herself. Is it because she loves reading so much? Is it because she wants to please her teacher? Or is she an over-achiever, who always wants to go above the standards?

We'll have to watch for other clues in her behavior as to what's motivating her. In the meantime, I am fascinated by learning how my kids are hard-wired.

Underpromise, Overdeliver

2011-09-19T16:44:00.000-05:00

That was one of our mantras in the client service world: you will always exceed your clients' expectations if you underpromise and overdeliver, no matter the product. Works for me in business and perhaps also in life.

Take this past weekend, for instance.

Months ago I signed up for the NorthShore Inline Marathon to be held in Duluth, MN on September 17th. It's a marathon on inline skates. And in case you don't know, a marathon by definition is 26.2 miles. There is no such thing as a 10-mile marathon. If it's 10-miles long, it's a race but not a marathon. If it's 13.1 miles, it's a half-marathon. So I always find it funny when I tell people my husband (or I) are training for a marathon and they ask how far that particular marathon is. Same as the other marathons: 26.2 miles.

I digress.

I trained for it. Kind of. I tried to log about 20 miles per week over the course of the summer. I felt silly when my skating miles were put up against those of others I know who are training and they logged loads more miles than me. Because, of course, they are running, not skating; their miles are infinitely more difficult than mine, and they are logging twice as many as I am. God I'm a wimp, I thought.

I went on a few long skates, my longest being 22.8 miles which I completed in about 2 hours. I did the math: if I had to complete 26.2 miles that means I would finish in around 2 hrs and 15 mins. Works for me. And I will not feel wimpy about this, I told myself. It may not be as difficult as running a marathon, but it depends on your point of view. I heard lots of people (veteran runners included) tell me they could not imagine being on skates at all, much less covering that kind of ground while staying upright on wheels.

I signed up for Wave 5, for those who expected to finish between 2:11 and 2:20.

Except I didn't.

I finished in 1 hr 58 mins 22 seconds. My average speed was a little over 13 mph.

I surprised myself in a good way, and that feels great. I was really, really happy with my time. I wouldn't have been if I had expected to finish under 2 hours and did so. I would've just met my expectations. Instead, I exceeded them.

Maybe that's just wrong -- set the bar low so you can get over it. But I don't feel like I set the bar incredibly low, and it was grounded in data (per previous training).

I actually had energy at the end of the race; I passed lots of people the last 4 miles, I was so thrilled to be near the end. I probably could've gone faster the whole way, but I didn't want to chance a faster pace at the beginning only to peter out at the end.

Best of all, I had fun. I met fantastic people. And I got to know my co-worker, Becky, much better, as she was gracious enough to let me stay at her house the night before.

If you know me you know I'm not usually one to toot my own horn, to pat myself on the back. But I was really proud of this accomplishment. It felt GREAT.

I will be signing up again for next year. This was too much fun not to do it again.

Comfort Zone? What Comfort Zone?

2011-09-14T13:35:00.002-05:00

Image from http://www.gosmellthecoffee.com/

The CEO of my former employer LOVED pushing people out of their comfort zones. He was always asking more of those around him, be it staff, vendors, even (or should I say "especially") clients. He encourages people to stretch themselves, to try new things, and then they'd get hooked on that feeling they'd get when they succeeded at something completely out of their box. It's one of the reasons why people love him -- he somehow convinces people that change is good, and that they have talents that can be used in more ways than currently being used.

I have determined that even though I am nearly two years into my new gig at Gillette Children's, I am still outside of my comfort zone.

It happened when someone on my staff asked me a question related to the work I used to do. The conversation went from, "Are there lists available with this kind of information?" to a discussion about statistical modeling, the effectiveness of behavioral selects over demographic selects, and so on and so forth into all kinds of industry jargon.

I couldn't believe how quickly and easily I spewed information that's in my head from the work that I used to do but hadn't for nearly 2 years. It was easy. It was instinctive.

It was comfortable.

That's when I realized it -- what I do nearly every day here at Gillette is out of my comfort zone.

What are good incentives for our employee giving campaign? What worked in the past? Let's see what we can come up with.

How do we measure the success of a stewardship event for major gift prospects? I don't know off the top of my head. Let's find out.

Which is the best month to host a fundraising event? Let me do some research on that and get back to you.

And guess what? I'm loving it.

I am learning new things every day, and expanding my experience to include new "key skills" that weren't on my résumé previously. I am glad to be in a place where I can dabble in all kinds of projects I didn't have direct experience in but have the skills to take on.

Guess what's happening to my comfort zone? It's getting larger. And that's a good thing.

Graphic from JewelDiamondTaylor: http://www.donotgiveup.net/

Sometimes I Reach My Limit

2011-09-12T08:30:00.003-05:00

I have heard it said often: raising girls or boys are two totally different experiences. Girls tend to need more emotional support, while boys tend to run roughshod on the home with their activity. Don't bother getting any new furniture until those boys are teenagers, it'll just get ruined. At least that's how the stereotypes go.

We thought my eldest was our emotional one, and used to jokingly call our youngest "our boy," because she was so emotionally resilient, not prone to burst into tears at the slightest provocation like our eldest.

And then our eldest continued to grow and mature, while our youngest reached the age when the eldest used to be incredibly sensitive, and the tables turned.

Take Sunday.

It began at the breakfast table, when Marissa asked me to put butter and syrup on her pancakes while she used the bathroom. So I did and I also cut her pancake up, like she usually asks me to do. She returns to the table, pushes her plate away and refuses to eat her pancake because I cut it up when she didn't ask me to. Fine. So I take the pieces of pancake and split them between Lindsey's and my plates, and give her another two pancakes, which I put butter and syrup on and give back to her.

She looks at me. "Cut my pancakes, please."

"But you wouldn't eat the other ones that I did cut up," I say.

"That's because I didn't ask you to do it. But I'm asking you now," she says.

I look at her. "Figure it out, kid, I'm not cutting your pancakes."

She ate her eggs, not the pancakes. Because I cut the ones she didn't ask me to, and wouldn't cut up the ones she wanted me to.

It continued throughout the day. She got mad because she wanted to play at the bottom of the stairs but Lindsey already was, even though Marissa had been playing happily somewhere else. She insisted in reading books loudly two feet away from where Lindsey was playing quietly, and got mad when Lindsey asked her to move (I managed to convince her to read with me in my bedroom). She resolutely refused my offer to help her get dressed, then cried when she wanted me to help her two minutes later and she couldn't find me because I'd gone downstairs.

Hard to believe this little girl can be so demanding.

The last one of the day came at bedtime, when she sat down and cried because I refused to change the clean sheets that had been put on the day before for her blue polka dot sheets because she "didn't want to have the same sheets over and over and over."

Wayne had to deal with that one, I was officially tapped out after a day of illogical demands and ridiculous outbursts.

I can't wait until this stage is over.

A Change in Scenery

2011-09-11T21:06:00.001-05:00

"Mommy, can we go to that playground in the middle of the street?"

"What playground would that be? The one I tell you to go to when you don't listen?"

"No, that big blue one. There's a dragon there."

"Oh! That park. Yes, let's go."

Marissa pretends to be a booger in the dragon's nose.

Lindsey rides the dragon.

The only piece of equipment (besides the dragon) that is NOT blue.

This playground is in the Seward neighborhood, close to where Lindsey used to take art classes. It's in a triangular green space surrounded by three city streets, which is why Marissa said it was in the "middle" of the street.

It's an area that's pretty ethnically diverse - Somali and Hispanic families were in equal representation. One little boy was trying to get Marissa to chase him, and she unwittingly did for a while until she realized what he was up to, then she got shy and didn't want to play anymore.

They kept posing on the dragon and asking me to take their pictures. I sure have these girls trained well! What an incredible way to spend an unseasonably warm September day.

A Tough Decision

2011-09-09T13:33:00.000-05:00

Our dog Dax has had various eye issues through his life, being the bug-eyed little canine that he is. Recently he had some inflammation in one of his eyes, so I began putting drops in his eyes left from the last incident and when it didn't get better in a couple of days, dutifully took him to the family vet for "the usual."

Unfortunately his diagnosis is nothing but "usual."

Turns out that at the ripe old age of 13 his ligaments holding his lens in place have given out, so his lens is flopping around inside his eye. He is currently looking over the lens and is farsighted, though he does have his vision. As long as the lens is towards the back of the eye it's not much of an issue, but if it moves to the front of the eye he would have intense pain, inflammation and it could cause a plethora of other issues which would need to be dealt with immediately.

The recommended treatment is surgery to remove the lens, leaving that one eye permanently far-sighted, but at least without pain and swelling.

Unfortunately this surgery is expensive, and that's for the procedure alone. It does not cover the cost of the medications he would be on for weeks after, or the required four follow-up visits. All told, we would be paying several thousand dollars.

Did I mention he's 13?

The challenge with this condition is that it is not nor would it ever be terminal -- it has everything to do with quality of life. If we were told he had cancer, that treatment would cost several thousand dollars and he may get one or two good years after recovery, that decision would be easy. If this eye condition goes untreated and worsens he will be in pain, but it won't kill him. That's not really fair to the dog to ask him to live with that kind of pain.

The other challenge is that if we really wanted to we could swing this, and for that I feel immensely fortunate. For many others, if their dog was given this prognosis surgery would be completely out of the question. It's not out of the question for us, but it does not come without sacrifice. At the same time, we are anticipating some major repairs on our aging house (see prior post about our 1928 sewer line) and need to be saving money for pay for those things. And did you know that our property taxes have gone up by double digits each of the past 5 years?

I know, these are all first-world problems, and I will say it again -- I am very blessed. But I also feel very blessed to have Dax in our girls' lives and want to keep him in their lives for as long as possible.

I feel strongly that when you accept a pet into your life you accept them for the entirety of their lives. As pet owners we do this willingly knowing that we will outlive these creatures that we come to so love. But when it comes to decisions like this, I have to remember he is a pet, not a human.

For now he is on medication to help with the pain, reduce the swelling and hopefully keep it from worsening. Right now I'm looking for more options, and would love to hear some from you.

Wordless Wednesday: Cousins' Summer Fun

2011-09-07T09:31:00.000-05:00

The Great Minnesota Get-Together

2011-09-05T08:39:00.002-05:00

It is time once again for us to perform our duty as good Minnesotans and make our annual pilgrimage to the Minnesota State Fair. My second ever post on this blog chronicled our trip of 2006 when Lindsey was 3 and Marissa was 1. What little peanuts!

We first visited some of the animal barns. After checking out huge sow and her nine piglets, some sheep and goats, Marissa and I managed to catch an event called pole bending in which horse riders weave through six poles without tipping any over. It was very exciting to watch but only for about 10 minutes, as that's when Marissa decided she wanted to move on to something else.

Each year a new fried food is unveiled at the fair. This year it was deep fried chocolate chip cookie dough. We didn't find the booth, and I'm not sure I would have tried it for fear of craving it during the other 353 days of the year when it's not available.

Add this to the list of other strange fair foods: A breakfast lollipop (sausage deep-fried in corn muffin batter, served with maple syrup), Minneapple pie (deep-fried apple pie), chocolate covered jalapenos and sweet corn ice cream. And of course my favorite to ponder but never to eat:

We tend to stick to the traditional fare:

Chocolate milk shake at the moo barn.

A blue raspberry sno-cone.

Then a trip to the kiddie midway, where my girls have spent hours in past years. Marissa happily skipped off with Wayne from ride to ride. Lindsey, on the other hand, wandered with me, looking for something she would find fun to do. Finally she said the words I have been dreading hearing:

"These are all kiddie rides, Mom."

My baby's growing up! Regardless, she managed to find one ride that she wanted to go on with me, kind of like the Tilt-a-Whirl. We got our car spinning so fast that she and I were laughing hysterically inside of it. The world was still spinning even when the ride was over, and Lindsey got a stomache ache from the spinning which ended her desire to go on anymore rides.

We had gotten there somewhat early in the day and watched the crowds increase as it warmed up and the day went on. Finally, around 3:00, after purchasing a stuffed horse on a stick for Lindsey and a pink cowgirl hat for Marissa, we declared our day complete and went home. Just in time, because the crowds were getting...well, crowded.

The Minnesota State Fair has the highest attendance of any fair of the 50 states. Last year 1.7 million people attended over the 12 days of the fair. The day before we visited 215,847 had attended - turns out over 223,000 were there the day we visited, a new record for that day. Despite this, we managed to run into my friend Laura and her family, who also blogged about her fair experience. Crazy that we ran into each other out of all the people there!

The Less Than Ideal Workplace

2011-09-01T08:50:00.000-05:00

Imagine that you have a job in which you work with a team of other people. Because you all work on the same project, you work in close quarters, in cubes surrounded by your team mates.

Unfortunately your building is not air-conditioned. So in the hot weather your employer brings fans out and blows the air around for circulation; despite the fact that you are hot and sweaty, you are expected to perform and get your job done.

In cold weather the old radiators tick and rattle away, and because you're on the first floor, you get to roast so that the heat can make its way up to those working on the third floor, since the radiators up there are frequently under repair and having air leached from them to improve the heat flow. Those poor employees get to sit in thick sweaters and boots in their cubes. Again, do your best work, everyone!

When you're hungry, you may get to eat your lunch. But because the lunch room only accommodates a fraction of the workers at a time, you may have to wait until much, much after your stomach started rumbling, because other workers are in there eating in shifts. At least you've got a granola bar to get you through. Or, you could be one of the lucky workers who gets to eat just two hours after breakfast, but because those employees aren't actually hungry when they get their lunch break, they don't really feel like eating and end up snacking later on in the afternoon.

When you do finally get to have lunch, you have 20 minutes to retrieve your lunch, gobble it down and possibly go outside for a quick breath of fresh air. But then it's back to your cube again, doing your best to concentrate on your work.

Your boss decides that he needs more employees to get all of this work done, so he reconfigures the cubes to be a little smaller and puts a few more cubes on your floor. It's snug, but not too bad. Because there are more workers to accommodate for lunch, your lunch break gets pushed back even later because he had to add another lunch shift to accommodate everyone, since the lunchroom holds an even smaller percentage of all of the employees.

A year later yet another new group of employees come in, and once again the cubes are made smaller to accommodate this. If you push your chair back too far you'll hit the chair of the person sitting behind you, and you yourself are frequently jostled by others trying to move around in order to get their jobs done. All the floors are being used in this way -- there is no talk of perhaps taking over another floor in the building, or finding a building more suitable for all of the employees.

How likely would you be to stay at this job?

Sounds like a Dilbert cartoon strip, doesn't it?

It's actually a school.

It's my children's school, one of many Twin Cities metropolitan schools that are facing higher enrollment. While schools get operating money on a per pupil basis, they do not get capital money on a per pupil basis. The message that the state sends the schools are: you got your money to teach these children, go do it with the facilities you've got.

And if you don't fit into the space, go to those taxpayers and ask them to help you build a new space. Good luck with that, because property taxes have steadily increased year after year in this state, even though incomes haven't gone hand-in-hand with that. And while everyone says they support education, from the politicians to the general public, when it comes down to voting to increase our own taxes to make that happen, many of us aren't so keen on that. (Oh, you mean you want ME to support schools? I thought you meant those people over there.)

I attended a meeting at Lake Harriet Community School in Minneapolis last night in which we are at critical enrollment levels. We're not the only one: schools all around us are crammed full, re-purposing music rooms and teacher lounges into core classrooms to accommodate the students. And while no one likes increasing class sizes, the bald fact is that there is physically no more room to cram more bodies into these classes. At what point do we stop thinking of our children as head counts and start realizing that they are people?

While I have an extremely vested interest in my children's school, I know that parents all across the metro area have the same vested interest in their own children's schools who are all facing the same issue. We are all approaching the same source for that funding: the state of Minnesota.

We need to take a fresh look at how we pay for education in Minnesota.

First Day of School 2011

2011-08-29T21:38:00.000-05:00

Who are these little posers? Where did the big grins go, the ones where you can practically hear "CHEEEEEESE!" by looking at the photograph? And really, who taught these girls to pose this way?

Today marked the first day of school for the Minneapolis school district. Marissa is now in full-day class as a first grader, and Lindsey is now in a different building as Marissa.

Marissa didn't seem phased by all the preparations. She wasn't nervous or scared, she was just excited and couldn't wait to see her friends.

Lindsey, on the other hand, was nervous about being the lowest grade in a big school (her school is 3rd through 8th grades). She was nervous about the "big kids," and didn't know where she should go in the morning for Minneapolis KIDS.

This all melted away when we walked in the door and she immediately saw two of her best friends hoola-hooping in the cafeteria. Turns out the cafeteria is where the Minneapolis KIDS group hang out. They showed her where to store her backpack, then grabbed another hoola hoop for her.

What a way to start the day!

Marissa has a little bit of a different day, in that we were unable to get her enrolled in Minneapolis KIDS. So I went to work and Wayne went back home with Marissa and she played happily with her toys until it was time to go to school. He escorted her straight to her classroom and helped her turn in school supplies, then put things in her desk and get settled. (Thus no pictures of Marissa's start to the day.)

I can't believe it's back-to-school time already. I am so thankful that I was able to take a lot of time off this summer to spend time with the girls. It makes the return to school easier to know that we took advantage of the summer days as much as we could.

My Problems are Not Problems

2011-08-20T08:05:00.000-05:00

Friday marked my last Friday off of the summer. We had errands on this day's agenda, starting with an appointment to get our main sewer line cleaned, a task we do every year to prevent problems.

We may have problems anyway, though, in that the sewer pipes are separating and may eventually break. We've seen it happen up and down the street, invariably in the middle of winter when the ground is frozen. Neighbor after neighbor has had their lawn excavated, new pipes lain and had to re-seed or sod. It seems bound to happen in an old neighborhood like ours. We could prevent this by re-lining the pipe, basically creating a new pipeline inside the old pipeline. (There's more to this, but that's the basic idea.)

Estimated cost? $11,000.

Ugh.

Later in the afternoon I took the girls to get their back-to-school haircuts. The stylist got halfway through Lindsey's cut and called me over.

"She has lice," she says quietly. "I can finish the cut, but if her sister has lice too I can't cut her hair."

Sure enough, Marissa's got nits, too.

Awesome. Weren't we just through this?

I posted something on Facebook about this, and how the news of this day was bumming me out. A few people commented in sympathy. And then I thought about my other friends on Facebook who would be reading this.

My friend Anita, who is still recovering from a brain injury after a bicycle/car accident that happened seven weeks ago.

My friend and former neighbor whose 6-year-old daughter is in the midst of difficult treatments to battle her cancer back in remission. She first had leukemia at age 3, when they lived down the street from us and Marissa and Annika were playmates. She is now six and will not be starting 1st grade along with her friends, as she will be too sick to attend. Treatment this time around is more difficult, because at age 6 she knows more of what's going on and resists the pokes and prods, and the treatment is stronger and harder on her body.

My dad, who is home again recovering from major abdominal surgery to remove colon cancer. He was home for a while but then was in so much pain he ended up back in the hospital, and only recently came back home.

My problems are not problems. They are insignificant hiccups in my life, compared to the challenges that others are facing.

While I am thinking about and praying for my friends' and family member's situations to improve, I will also remember to be grateful for what I have.

Lake Harriet's Got Talent

2011-08-19T08:44:00.000-05:00

This past week I attended the Minneapolis KIDS talent show at my girls' school. Lindsey had signed up to dance to Katy Perry's "Hot N' Cold" with friends of hers, and was incredibly excited the day of the talent show. She and her friends had been practicing for weeks. She'd had her outfit picked out for days, and this morning insisted on pigtails to complete her look.

I was surprised to see Lindsey out front for her performance. In prior years and similar opportunities, she has been a background dancer or singer, happy to have someone whose moves she could follow. I was pleased to see her take a leadership role, even if it is just a dance and not in the classroom.

While I was thrilled to be there and love sharing the video of her performance with you, what I didn't capture was the incredible spirit of all of the performers together.

There was the double-jointed girl who made her fingers bend at the first joint.

The boy who walked backwards quickly back and forth across the stage. (Yep, he can walk backwards faster than anybody I know.)

The "swinging my belt" act, in which a girl swung a belt around in a circle and hopped up and down on one leg, in time to music.

The kindergartener who did ballet, repeating first and second position over and over, as those were the only two positions she could remember. (if you don't know, 1st and 2nd positions are about the least exciting but most basic required steps of ballet).

The two best friends who danced together, even though neither of their moves coordinated with the other girl on the stage.

After every act, the performers smiled, bowed, and ran off to stage to enthusiastic applause.

I was amazed at how supportive the kids were of each other, and the parents of not only their own kids, but of the other children there. I loved the creativity, that something so seemingly simple as "swinging a belt" was presented with such flair. The simplest of talents, like walking backwards, was embraced as something to celebrate.

You could tell that some kids worked hard on their performances, developing skills in teamwork and cooperation with the hardest of those to work with, their closest friends.

It was the best hour of my day. Possibly my week.

An Outing to the Zoo

2011-08-14T16:37:00.000-05:00

I took the meterologist's advice to heart: when she said, "Make plans to be outside on Sunday, it's going to be gorgeous," I thought it would be fun to see the new penguin exhibit at the Minnesota Zoo with the girls, giving Wayne some time to recover from his 22-mile run this morning.

As it happens in our house at times, Marissa lost the privilege of going to the zoo. I could hear the girls' squabbling while I fixed pancakes, then heard it escalating until finally Marissa pushed Lindsey. She and I talked at length about what you should do if someone makes you mad (tell a parent, use your words, walk away), but the one she remembers first is the one that's not allowed. Perhaps her loss of the trip to the zoo will continue to reinforce this for her.

So before lunchtime Lindsey and I headed off to the zoo. And I can say it was a glorious day.

How bactrian camels keep cool in Minnesota, surrounded by algae in a pool.

We saw whichever exhibits Lindsey wanted to see, for however long she wanted to see them. Our timing was such that we happened to catch the dolphin show with a minimal amount of waiting. We hadn't seen the dolphin show in years, usually due to poor timing or the strong wish of one or more other family to NOT see the show.

Not a dolphin -- an amur leopard.

Afterwards we took the monorail around the whole zoo, looking down on all of the exhibits. This was a great idea because we got tired and worn out before we could walk many of the paths, so the only way we saw many of the animals was by an aerial view.

We ate some lunch, saw the penguins, then started down the tropics trail. We first came across the lemurs, who were all snuggled up together looking adorable.

Ring-tailed lemurs.

"Awww," Lindsey said, "That makes me miss Dax. Let's go home."

And so we did.

This is not to say that Marissa and I would not have had a great time -- I'm sure we would have. But it is so much simpler to have only one child to go on excursions like this, it doesn't matter which one. There is only one child whose desires matter, who's state of tiredness or hunger needs attention.

I'm sure that some other weekend Lindsey will be losing privileges, and she'll be the one who has to stay home with one parent while Marissa goes someplace fun with the other. But for now, I will enjoy the day that we had.

City Pride

2011-08-12T15:22:00.001-05:00

A few weeks ago I drove to South St. Paul for an industry gathering, and had an opportunity to go through cities I had no idea exist.

Sunfish Lake: population 504
Lilydale: population 618
Mendota: population 210

How do these little tiny cities exist in a metropolitan area? How is it that they have not been gobbled up by a larger neighboring city? I can only assume that there is not a Sunfish Lake High School, but is there a Sunfish Lake mayor?

Later on I had to go to yet another city in the Twin Cities area for business. The difference between these two neighboring cities, just across a highway from each other, was striking.

Here's the sign on the south side of the highway:

To protect the identity of the citizens of the other city, I shall simply say that there was no "welcome to" in front of the city name, followed by this disclaimer:

No Tresspassing.
All roads and land are private.

From "Welcome!" to "No trespassing."

And what makes a city "private?" Do the citizens actually own the town? Reminds me of the towns in Wisconsin that are so small they don't even give the population, they just say "unincorporated."

On the subject of city pride, a group of us were recently comparing notes on our small town festivals. We all had them, a local gathering to bring in visitors, drum up some business and have a party. My hometown had "Falls Fest" (consider the city name, Sheboygan Falls); my husband's hometown hosts Boxcar Days, thanks to an active railroad line that came through to pick up harvested grain.

Other names: Daze and Knights (St. Michael, MN), Corn Chaff Days (Hector, MN), Buttered Corn Days (Sleepy Eye, MN).

The tilt-a-whirl, the scrambler and the zipper seemed to make the rounds to all of our small towns. There was always a food tent, carnival games and don't forget the beer garden. Such fun memories.

The Eldest Child

2011-08-10T22:11:00.000-05:00

Our dog Dax turned 13 on August 1st. I happened to have the day off work that day, and the girls and I tried to make him feel special that day.

He was greeted with birthday wishes from the moment the girls got up.

He got to chase bubbles outside, one of his favorite activities.

He opened presents, which he actually does because he loves to rip paper. It is a guilty pleasure of his, one he rarely gets to indulge.

Special treats were purchased and plied upon him throughout the day, for which we were richly rewarded with stinky toots late in the evening.

And he got special snuggles from the eldest.

Lindsey likes to think that we made Dax feel special on his special day, the way we try to for our girls on their birthdays.

But I have a feeling that Dax would've been happier had we all been at work and school and he could have slept all day.

No Words.

2011-08-04T21:24:00.001-05:00

This is a blog. I know that. It takes words to write, to read. But I have no words for what happened this afternoon.

I spoke to my friend Anita today, a month and a day after her accident.

She was articulate. She did not have to search for words. She remembers everything up until the accident and doesn't remember the 3 1/2 weeks she was in the hospital until a day or two before she was released. She is walking. She was on Facebook earlier in the week. Typing comes easy to her, though apparently old-fashioned writing skills are more difficult.

A few days ago I saw her "friend" a couple of people on Facebook, and wondered if it wasn't her husband doing it on her behalf. But then, a status update, thanking family and friends for helping her family during her hospitalization. And even better today: a joke.

She cannot wait to be through with the hours and hours of therapy that she is currently doing to sharpen her brain function. She cannot wait to be back to where she was. And in particular she's disappointed for the month of summer that she's missed. Her nonprofit, Extreme Moms, is going hang-gliding in a few weekends. She's especially disappointed to miss that, because hang-gliding was her idea, and she's bummed that she can't do it. Doctors told her that another head injury in the next 6 to 8 months would be, as she put it, really really bad. As if what she'd been through wasn't bad enough. She herself has no idea.

I cannot put into words the joy that this puts in my heart. Her recovery is nothing short of miraculous. For those of us who know her, it's just one more way in which she is amazing Anita.

A Party of Princesses

2011-07-31T21:17:00.000-05:00

I heard from our neighbors how charmed they were by Marissa's birthday party Saturday morning.

Marissa had asked for a princess themed party, so the invitations went out with a request to have the guests arrive wearing a princess or fairy costume. One, then two, then suddenly 7 and then 8 little girls in pink and purple were flitting around our house, and flitting down the street. (Her friend Chitra came a bit later and wasn't in the picture above.)

I loved watching the girls play. They were so sweet together, pulling out toys and imagining worlds filled with princesses, horses and monsters needing to be conquered. My friends who have boys would be shocked at how quiet the party was at times.

They made tiaras from craft foam, stickers and glitter, then my friend Paula and I facepainted. Neither of us had done that before, and you could tell which kids had been painted first as we began to develop some skills as we went along. A lunch of pizza, and then some cake.

A perfect princess party.

Our New Neighbors

2011-07-29T22:03:00.001-05:00

Our next door neighbors moved away while we were on vacation. It was strange to come back from vacation and see different people driving in to the driveway, driving cars we weren't familiar with.

If you ever lived in a metropolitan area you understand how close you are to your neighbors. Even if you aren't close as in "friends," you are physically close. Sometimes you need to pretend you don't see them coming and going from their house to give them the perception of privacy. Or you ignore the yells or laughs or whatever noises emerge from open windows. And that requires some courtesy and diplomacy.

Then there's me.

Here's the deal with me: what you see is what you get. And what you get is a messy, disorganized working mom, who sometimes yells at her kids to get them to do what she needs them to do, or lets them scream and cry and have their tantrum. Occasionally that tantrum is outside, because I do not allow screaming in the house.

I don't wear make up when I'm not out, I wear what's comfortable and don't care how it looks, as long as I'm not leaving the house. And that means that you, my neighbors, get to see that questionable taste in style. Don't turn me in to What Not to Wear: I didn't go out, I'm home.

My hair is messy and crazy, and I kind of like it that way. But let me know if I've got spinach between my teeth, thanks.

You don't have to like it, just deal with it.

I hope we get along with the new neighbors.

Happy birthday, Marissa!

2011-07-27T23:05:00.000-05:00

Today was Marissa's 6th birthday.

She awoke to her mommy singing "happy birthday" in her ear.

Her day began by ripping into presents from her family.

She spent the day at camp, where her group sang happy birthday to her.

A bouquet of flowers and cards awaited her arrival at home.

We all went out to eat to celebrate, and a small dessert was brought to the table with a candle on it. We all sang happy birthday to her, softly, because she was "too shy."

While in her bed wearing her pajamas, she played with her new toys until she finally fell asleep.

Now THAT is what I call a special birthday.

It must be awesome to be six.

You Are So Beautiful

2011-07-26T08:44:00.000-05:00

I've read a few posts and studies recently about the challenges girls face in our modern, "equal opportunity" nation. The latest debate has been sparked by a recent study by the University of Central Florida which shows that half of girls ages 3 to 6 think they are fat. This is chalked up to the collective impact of a multitude of images of women sizes 0 to 6 which proliferate the media: billboards, TV, internet, you name it, there they are, those skinny, photoshopped women whose beauty is not even possible in the real world.

One parent's response was to praise her child's intelligence and talents, and to not praise her for her looks. Her belief was that if girls, like boys, were praised for their skills then they would value those skills and wouldn't care if they were "pretty" or not.

And while I agree with one on one part, praising girls for their talents, I do not believe in the other, which is not praising them for their beauty.

Because until we can get the photoshopped models off the billboards, off TV and out of our girls' lives, it won't matter what we say to them, they will see what the world values in women. I believe the worst thing a mom can do is comment on the beauty of those images in a jealous or wishful way.

"Did you see the legs on that model? My legs could never be that thin." "Look at how gorgeous her eyes are."

You may hear me say things like: "Honey, her skin isn't really that perfect, they used a computer to make it seem that way."

So yes, praise them for their intelligence. But also praise them for their beauty. Because it doesn't matter if they are beautiful; if they feel that they are it will give them a confidence they can draw from.

I have always looked in the mirror and seen a pretty girl, because that's what my parents told me they saw. I know my nose is big. My eyes are small. And don't get me started on my complexion. But it doesn't matter. My belief in my beauty (mistaken or not) has helped me be confident in situations when I didn't have much reason to be, when I was trying new things I'd never done before, or in the company of people smarter and more experienced than me.

Here's the best thing moms can do for their daughters: love ourselves in the skin we are in. Our own self-confidence will translate to our daughters. They will do as we do and not as we say. If we spend our days "tsking" over our poochy tummies or sagging chins, our daughters will watch us. They will see the standards we hold ourselves up to and will hold themselves to the same.

Accept ourselves as we are: love the way we look, and our daughters will love themselves.

A Michigan Wedding

2011-07-24T22:29:00.000-05:00

There are vacations we take for ourselves. And then there are vacations we take for our family.

There is the drive time.

Time for discovery.

And time for relaxing.

Time to visit with those who knew us before we knew ourselves.

And the reason for the trip.

And perhaps, if we're lucky, a little time for ourselves.

We are thankful for the laughter, for the time spent with loved ones we don't get to see often enough and for the happy reason that brought us all together. And after a long drive home, we are thankful for our own beds and for the photos to help us keep the memories.

The Long Road Ahead

2011-07-15T16:33:00.002-05:00

This is a photo of my dear friend Anita, as taken by her eldest daughter. Anita was hit by a car while riding her bicycle on July 3rd. She sustained a severe brain injury and had to have emergency brain surgery to save her life. She then spent several days in a medically induced coma. She is still in the hospital today.

She is on my mind constantly. She is one of the first people I think of when I wake up in the morning and before I go to bed at night. If I'm enjoying a beautiful sunrise while skating in the morning, I think of her and know how much she would appreciate the view.

If you knew her, you would know what an amazing person she is. She has a powerful calm about her, if those two adjectives can go together. Her patience with her three young girls abounds; joy surrounds her. Her generosity is legendary and is coming back to her ten-fold during this time, with friends coming out of the woodwork to watch her kids, feed her family, relieve her husband of bedside duty or mow their lawn.

She is slowly, slowly recovering, but has a long road ahead. Her family was thrilled when she finally squeezed her sister's hand on command. She will have to re-learn how to speak. How to walk. And she may never recover some skills, though we are all hoping that she will regain her ability to do henna art, her passion in life.

One of the many bedside watchers wrote this update in her Caring Bridge site a few days ago:

Must share a quick update. At 6:00 this am, the neurosurgery team came bursting into the room and turned the lights on. One particular doctor was talking to Anita in a very VERY loud voice. He was trying to get her to follow commands. She doesn't make a whole lot of facial expression, but I think she might have been glaring. She pointed at the light and we turned it down a little and then she shushed the doctor with her finger. I quietly mentioned that her hearing was ok. He lowered his voice and she proceeded to follow all of his commands. It was pretty awesome.

Really, neurosurgeons should know better than to startle a person with a brain injury. They had given the family lots of instructions on keeping her calm, on not getting her excited. And then they rudely burst into the room, switch on the light and start barking commands. Leave it to Anita to set them straight.

What is obvious is that she has not lost her fighting spirit, and that is what is making her come back to her family, day by day.

Update: Anita is a founding member of a nonprofit group in Milwaukee called "Extreme Moms." From now until the foreseeable future, any donations made to Extreme Moms will go directly to Anita and her family to help her pay medical bills and other expenses. They really need your help. If you can, please donate to www.extrememoms.org. Thank you!

Our Littlest Neighbor

2011-07-06T12:00:00.000-05:00

Someone left me some treats, I wonder which one I should try first?

This looks like a good one.

I've never encountered a nut like this!

Yummy!!

Two Points of View: 4th of July Parade

2011-07-05T21:43:00.000-05:00

Monday morning the girls and I took in the Edina 4th of July parade while Wayne ran the Red White & Boom half-marathon. I spent half the parade watching my girls watch the parade, which was, of course, just about as entertaining. I thought I would try to re-enact here in an abbreviated way the points of the parade that we commented on, at least in our heads if not aloud.

Kids: Mom, is that an old-fashioned car? Did they have those around when you were a little girl? Did you have to out-run dinosaurs in it?

Me: Wow, class of 1951 is having their 60th reunion. That's amazing. I hope I make it to my 60th reunion.

Kids: Look at the horsies! They have gold glitter on their toenails. How do they put that on?

Me: Please don't poop in front of us, please don't poop in front of us...(more on this later)

Kids: That gun is scary! Are they going to shoot us?

Me: Look at that veteran in uniform waving at us. I am so thankful that men and women like him have served our country. [clap clap clap wave wave wave]

Kids: Look at the super heroes! Wow, are they going to use their super powers on us? What can they do? Maybe the girl in green can kick people with her boots.

Me: I'm glad that supergirl doesn't have a muffin top this year like the one did last year. That was awkward to explain.

Kids: Laura Ingalls Wilder! Laura Ingalls Wilder!

Me: Laura Ingalls Wilder! Laura Ingalls Wilder!

Back to the horse:

Near the end of the parade the mounted police went by and a few of the horses decided that the spot right in front of us was the place to poop. They went a few more feet and then one decided it had to piss like a racehorse. And now I know where that saying comes from: that's a lotta pee. So much so that it gained momentum and started heading toward the curb on the other side of the street. Spectators sitting on the curb with their feet in the street leaped up and had to find new places to sit.

One older gentleman was sitting in a wooden chair on the street and was looking the opposite direction as the ominous river made its way toward his feet. Finally a kid next to him warned him and he managed to get himself and his chair out of the way just before the river reached him.

The best part was the rider's reaction: As his horse was relieving himself he shook his head resignedly and appeared to take some good-natured ribbing from his cohorts.

I am 90% sure that that's the most memorable part of the parade for my kids.

Fitting It All In

2011-07-04T08:00:00.001-05:00

Some of my family members who have come to visit us are amazed at how much our family does. To those who aren't accustomed to the pace, it is exhausting. But here's my deal:

My girls are only their current age for 365 days. I will be working for approximately 234 of those days, which leaves 131 days a year to spend time with them. During that 131 days I have to fit in chores, time with friends, with family, and sleep. Come summer time, when the days are long and the weather beautiful, I want to squeeze as much in as I can.

So yes, I am up early in the morning on days I could sleep in, getting in a few miles on inline skates, putting a load of laundry in or catching up on dishes. I'll spend my evenings doing something similar to what I'm doing now -- writing, uploading photos, reading or watching TV. And I'll spend my days squeezing every moment in that I can with my family.

I'll sleep come winter. Or our girls' high school years. But I am going to catch every smile, every hug, every joyous moment I can while they want to be with their mom. Because some day sooner than I would like, they will be calling their friends and making arrangements to go out Friday nights, catch a movie, go on a (gulp) double date, or other things. It won't be cool to be with mom and dad.

I got a small glimpse of this on Saturday as we planned to go on a biking outing to Hopkins, to eat lunch at Pizza Luce and bike back. We were getting the bikes out, pumping up tires and finding helmets that hadn't been used since the prior year. Lindsey pulled out her helmet and tried to put it on. She eventually got it on, but it clearly was a tight fit and she has pretty much outgrown it.

Her helmet was embarrassing, she said, since it had Disney princesses on it. I said, "What?! Aren't you my little princess? Don't tell me you've outgrown princesses already!" and I hugged her, thinking that we went to DisneyWorld not even 12 months ago.

She pushed me away and said, "Mommmm!" and looked around, in case one of her friends saw her. "I am too old for princesses." And then she adds, "I'm growing up, you know."

I know, honey, all too well.

Urban Lake Getaway

2011-07-03T22:46:00.003-05:00

My girls and I were introduced to Bryant Lake Park in Eden Prairie. It's all of a 15-minute drive from our house. And like a lot of places around the Twin Cities that I've never heard of, it's a gem.

A beautiful beach with huge beach umbrellas ready for people to park themselves under, clear, sandy-bottomed water, great amenities and a playground nearby. What more could a family want?

Since it's run by the Three Rivers Park District it's not impacted by the Minnesota state shutdown, so the girls and I spent the morning there with friends.

They swam.

They built sand castles.

And moats.

They topped it off with an ice cream treat from the concession stand.

It's Fourth of July weekend, amazing weather and it wasn't incredibly packed. What a find.

Thanks to my friend, Jennifer, for showing us this great place. Want to know anything about the Twin Cities, historical factoids, hidden surprises, or the I-would've-never-thought-of-that outing that your kids will find entertaining, just talk to Jennifer, she knows it all.

Date Night Without the Kids, Please (Yours or Mine)

2011-06-28T13:26:00.000-05:00

Last Saturday was date night for my husband and I, compliments of our neighbors who offered to babysit for us. (Thanks, you guys!) We decided to go out to eat at Chino Latino, a place I've heard tons about and have only ever had appetizers at, and my husband has never dined there.

Some of the reviews of Chino Latino on Yelp, OpenTable and other sites have these things to say about it:

Great late night hot spot
Excellent wine list
Vibrant bar scene
Fantastic happy hour

My husband was impressed from the moment we walked in -- the ambience is vibrant, energetic. It was contagious. We got a table along the windows so we could look out at Hennepin Avenue with all its hustle and bustle and talk about how much we love living in the city.

Over the din of the crowd I heard a familiar noise, one I didn't expect to hear; the sound of a toddler whining.

Sure enough, two tables over I see three couples out to eat, along with a baby in a baby carrier and a toddler. It is 8:30 at night in downtown Minneapolis.

Now, I know my kids have been in restaurants rather late, especially while vacationing. But they have never been in a restaurant at that hour that looked like this:

Or this:

Or had people sitting at the next table banging their fists on the table and doing shots (yes, it's one of the signature drinks Chino Latino serves to the very bravest of drinkers.)

All we could do was mutter, "Get a babysitter."

I don't know what the back story is, and I'm sorry that I'm being judgmental. Maybe their babysitter fell through and they didn't have the heart to cancel their dinner out with good friends that they've already had to re-schedule three times. Truly, for the most part their kids were well behaved outside of the toddler whining (which is like nails on a chalkboard to me).

And yes, I've been the mom with the kid who has the temper tantrum in the middle of the store. My children have left more food on restaurant floors than they've ingested. I've apologized to tables next to me for the behavior of my kids while dining out. But these happened at places like Perkins or Applebee's and usually well before 7 pm. If these parents absolutely had to take the kids out to dine at that hour, I would've made a last minute change to something a little more kid-friendly.

I was going to let this go but then I hopped over to Colleen's blog "Keeping Her Cool" today only to see a post on the same topic, only she was less judgmental than I was. And nicer. I'm not in a nice mood today, apparently.

We parents need our kid-free time, and we go to nice restaurants later at night with the expectation of getting that kid-free time. Please help make that happen. Thank you.

Summer Of Fridays, 1st Installment

2011-06-25T07:00:00.002-05:00

I have managed my time off at work in such a way that I have most every Friday off this summer. Last summer was laden with guilt at cajoling our children out of bed early in the morning, making them go to bed in broad daylight, and dropping them off at a program they didn't want to go to. I was committed to having a better summer this year, starting with only four days of a structured program. So this is the first in many installments documenting our summer of Fridays.

While I had last Friday off, it didn't feel much like it, since we spent the day doing laundry and packing to head to Tracy for the weekend. So yesterday definitely felt like the first Friday off of the summer.

Lindsey's ready to empty her container and keep picking.

I planned a strawberry picking outing and we headed out with Lindsey's friend Emma and her mom, Cassie. We couldn't have chosen a better day. It was beautiful, not a cloud in the sky, with temps in the mid-70s.

Marissa's little container probably never had more than 3 berries in it; she would collect a few, show me how pretty they were and then eat them one by one.

Marissa shows one of her picks.

Lindsey and Emma get down to business.

Lindsey and Emma appeared to be in a berry picking race, going up and down the rows and picking the easiest berries, filling their containers and running them back to Cassie and I to dump into our larger trays. We gathered enough we pronounced the group done, and headed a mile down the road to the St. Croix Bluffs Park to enjoy our picnic lunch that we had packed. This was a beautiful park with a great picnic area, lots of trails, a playground and -- best of all -- nice facilities.

We ate, the girls played on the playground, and we headed back in the afternoon. I processed most of the berries for freezing, gave some to our neighbors and made homemade strawberry shortcake for dessert.

And it's only Saturday. I'm so thrilled.

Pick one, eat one, pick one, eat one...

Little House in the Big Woods

2011-06-24T08:08:00.001-05:00

This past weekend we actually took the girls sight-seeing while visiting the in-laws in southwestern Minnesota. I say "actually" because it seems that no matter whose parents we're visiting, his or mine, we sit at their house on our butts, visiting away, and never visit the area where they live.

We went to the Wilder Museum in Walnut Grove, MN, the neighboring town where my mother-in-law was raised. And someone else lived there for a few years, too, you may have heard of her: Laura Ingalls Wilder.

As a little girl I adored Laura Ingalls Wilder. Adored. I have a little bonnet someone made for me that I used to play pioneer girl in; it has now been passed on to my kids. My sister and I used to walk around the house with a blindfold on so we could experience what it may have felt like to be Laura's sister, Mary, who was blinded by an illness in childhood. (We also played piano with said blindfold on -- it takes practice but we got pretty good.) I read the entire Little House series something like 5 or 6 times between the ages of 8 and 18. I still have the entire set, ready and waiting to pass on to one of my kids once they show an interest.

We now have an interest.

Covered wagon, actual size. Pioneer wagons were 4'x10' and had to carry everything a family needed.

The museum is set up with miniature building built like the various places featured throughout the books: the church, school house, sod house, and other such places. Throughout the displays we learned about how they made butter and cheese, cleaned clothes, cooked with a woodburning stove, and other strange things. The girls didn't pay much attention to those, they were too busy running from building to building, pretending to be the schoolteacher, the preacher, the mom.

Giddy-up, horsie!

While some items are behind ropes or under glass, others are ready for a hands-on experience. After a fun time running from building to building, we headed back to the gift shop where Lindsey picked out her own bonnet.

And a book.

She was a quarter of the way through by the time we made it back to Wayne's parents house 20 minutes away. She would've been further along but she had to share the stories with us along the way. I remembered lots of them as she recounted them: Pa mistakenly had a stand-off with a tree stump that he thought was a bear, Laura's corn cob doll, waking up with snow on the tops of her bed covers.

I now have an assignment this weekend: dig through the books I've saved in the basement and find my entire collection so she can begin book two.

I can't wait to share Laura's adventures with my girls.

Can you Fake a Blog?

2011-06-22T22:16:00.000-05:00

Is it considered cheating if my last two blog posts were Wordless Wednesdays? Things that I've thought about writing about lately but haven't:

Father's Day in Tracy, Minnesota
Visiting the Wilder Museum in Walnut Grove with the girls
Lindsey discovering the Little House Series (see previous idea on Wilder Museum)
Sending my children to a 4-day Spanish immersion camp when they've never taken Spanish before (I imagine they spend the whole day looking quizzically at the teachers who are rattling off the day in Spanish thinking "WTF" only they don't know to think "WTF" yet)
The continual battle against lice which we are #WINNING
My dad's current health challenges (which is hogging my worry time, let me tell you)

But instead, I will leave you with a link to someone else who clearly has more time and energy to write real blog posts instead of a listing of ideas for blog posts which may or may not get written.

Get the tissues, you are going to laugh so hard you will cry. And that's what everybody needs, a good freaking LAUGH.

http://thebloggess.com/2011/06/and-thats-why-you-should-learn-to-pick-your-battles/

This writer has gotten over 800 comments on this blog post since posting it yesterday. It is spreading via Facebook like wildfire. Expect demand for 5-foot metal chickens to go up. Way up.

Wordless Wednesday: Carefree

2011-06-21T22:23:00.000-05:00

I Finished the Book (In Case You Were Wondering)

2011-06-15T21:46:00.001-05:00

That book that's been on my sidebar for months? You know, the one I got for Christmas?

I finished it.

I finished it some time ago, actually, I just have been too lazy to go out and change the picture to what I'm reading now.

After having read Volume I of Mark Twain's autobiography, I have to say that I am not sure I will buy Volume II when it is published. I will have to re-read Volume I, because it probably took me about half the book to figure out how to read the book.

Good old Mark told me, he told me how to read it in the 70-page introduction of which I read the first 5 pages. I read in the introduction and in several reviews that Mark didn't like the standard format of autobiographies, how they "begin in the cradle and drive you straight into the grave." No sir, he wanted to write exactly what was on his mind at that moment, regardless of relevance or timeliness.

And that's exactly what he did.

It was about halfway through the book that I realized what I was reading was a series of prose, of short stories about random things. And once I began letting go of the fact that he would reference events that hadn't yet been described to the reader, and trust that I would learn about it later on, or that I was supposed to just enjoy each little story for what it was, I began to like the book.

His writing reminds me so much of my dad's -- it is ALL about the tale you tell, not the facts. He also grasps the most unusual things to wonder upon, like his daughter's love of theatre. His description of an evening of entertainment that his daughter provided to a dinner party he and his wife hosted was both touching and sentimental, like my dad's writing.

He wrote brutally about the ignorance or untrustworthiness of certain business associates of his -- no wonder he wanted his book to be published 100 years after his death. He also wrote with fascination about General and President Ulysses S. Grant, a dear friend of his.

But the best story of all had to be the one he told of being a 12-year-old boy, working the printing press of the local newspaper.

He and the other press boys had just set all the type for a booklet that a minister in town wanted published on the newspaper's press. They called the minister down to proof the book, and the minister realized he had left out the words "Jesus Christ" in one critical reference to the Savior. In order to fit those two words in, young Samuel Clemens and friends would have to re-set the last four pages of the book, because all of the words slid onto the next pages all the way to the end of the booklet.

Instead of taking on that painstaking work, Sam's friend decided to shorten it to "J.C." to try to save their afternoon so they could go swimming instead of re-setting type. But alas, when the minister came back to proof it he found the abbreviation of the Lord's name, chastised the boys for taking the name in vain and admonished them to set in Jesus' FULL name when he came back to proof it once again. And so they took on the task of setting in the full name of the Lord and re-setting the remaining pages as well.

When the minister came back a third time to proof the book, there, just as he insisted, was the Lord's full name:

Jesus H. Christ

Sam and friends ended up working the entire afternoon again anyways, but as Sam says in his autobiography, "That was the best reason of all to miss an afternoon of swimming."

Why There Are No Photos of My Parents' Visit

2011-06-13T22:13:00.000-05:00

Because my mom and stepdad are angels sent from heaven. As such, they cannot be photographed -- mere humans would never see them.

My parents were scheduled to arrive on my children's last day of school, to watch our girls on Thursday and Friday when we didn't have daycare but both of us wanted to save our vacation days. Two days before their scheduled arrival, Marissa was sent home with lice.

On Tuesday, she was sent home with lice...again.

On Tuesday night, my previous post on my imaginary itching was proven untrue -- I did indeed have the little buggers in my hair. At 3:30 am I found myself de-lousing myself in the bathroom, liceMD kit in one hand and comb in the other.

And to top things off, after checking her for two days and declaring her lice free, on Wednesday Lindsey's hair finally began moving of its own accord as well.

My laundry room was knee deep in laundry both clean and dirty. All our pillows and stuffies were in garbage bags tied up tight in the porch, and both girls were one pair away from being completely out of underwear.

And then my mom and stepdad arrived, despite my having called them ahead of time to warn them that we had lice in the house. They didn't cancel, they didn't say "let us know when it's all gone." They showed up, did loads and loads of our laundry, combed and picked all three of our heads, and didn't shudder at the thought of these nasty little bugs (even though I am still).

In between domestic chores inside the house, they managed to sweep out our garage, organize the kitchen pantry and plant 92 marigolds along our walkway.

And then, before leaving on Saturday morning, they threw one more load of laundry in the wash.

Angels, I tell you.

There are no pictures because, really, who wants to see pictures of children getting their heads picked, or of all the laundry, or of the nit combs all lined up like soldiers after being sanitized.

But most of all, I didn't want to singe my parents' angel wings from the photo flash.

Wordless Wednesday: Last Day of School!

2011-06-08T06:07:00.000-05:00

Lindsey getting high-fives from her fellow 2nd graders, soon to be 3rd graders.

At Lindsey's 2nd grade celebration.

How did my baby girl get to be so big?

Playing Head Games

2011-06-07T12:13:00.000-05:00

We got the dreaded call from school on Monday, the one that we managed to avoid all winter only to receive in June: lice.

Pick up Marissa, please, she's got bugs crawling in her hair.

If you didn't know this about me, I am squeamish about bugs. Especially ones that feed on humans, like ticks, fleas and lice. Anything that's tiny but sucks blood and transmits disease makes me shudder and cringe.

My husband got the call first so he picked her up and we met at home. He began the process of cleaning and de-lousing Marissa, while I began the process of stripping her bed, pulling all the soft things out of her room and cleaning.

We eventually shifted responsibilities: I finished the de-lousing while he made dinner.

I then went for an evening haircut appointment that I had made weeks earlier. I warned my stylist that my daughter had come home with lice that day. She bravely went forward with the haircut as scheduled and informed me that if she had found anything in my hair she would have to stop and send me home too. The fact that I walked out with a nice cut and style made me believe she didn't find anything.

I picked up new brushes and combs for all the family members on the way home, we put the kids to bed and went to bed ourselves.

And then it began.

The itching.

The crawling feeling.

The belief that my head was covered with bugs.

I tossed and turned. I scratched even though I tried not to. I eventually got up and sprayed a tea tree/water mix on my hair, which not only reduced the itching but is supposedly hated by lice everywhere.

Finally, my alarm went off and it was time to face the day after a fitful night of sleep.

I took my pillow case off my pillow to begin re-stripping our bed and rewashing sheets, only to find the cause of the itching: little tiny hairs from the haircut that collected on my pillow.

My brain had me convinced that I had lice.

Just to set my mind at ease, I did a lice treatment on myself this morning as well. Because I'm sure that if I hadn't, I would be spending my day at work scratching my head, believing that I had creepy crawlies on me.

We humans are great at head games, aren't we.

On the Shores of Dana Lake

2011-06-02T13:01:00.003-05:00

Best summertime memory?

Vacation in Upper Michigan, at a tiny little inland lake called Dana.

The land has been in our family since the 1950's. My mom remembers her father building the original cabin by hand, and can tell you where the outhouses were first situated before the indoor plumbing went in. Eventually in the late 1980's my grandparents added on to it and made it their year-round home. The original cabin is the one-story section on the lefthand side. It is approximately 800 sq feet, but we managed to house a family of four and a golden retriever in that cabin summer after summer.

My mom and her siblings tell funny stories about their shenanigans as kids, learning to waterski, jumping off the dock and scaring each other in the woods.

I have my own memories of silly leaf hats that my mom made from the massive trees taken from the forest. They only lasted a day before they dried out, but they were fun to wear. I remember that there was a dead tree near the house that most of the bark had fallen off of, but the tree was still standing. We used to spin tales of how that tree died -- was it struck by lightning one dark and stormy night? Did a sorceress cast a spell because the tree somehow did her wrong? Perhaps a family or owls, or ooo! bats! lived in that tree now.

I and my cousins played in the sand beach and make miniature rivers down to the shore, with a town of sand castles lining the river, lit by sparklers brought out by the 4th of July.

My mom waged a never-ending battle against the sand that would enter the cabin with every child's entrance.

My parents would play cards with my grandparents at night while us kids ran in and out to the firepit, making s'mores and telling scary tales.

The sound of the screen door banging shut was music to my ears but bone-rattling to my parents and grandparents.

Sunrise over Dana.

Now, I have seen my own kids making memories at Dana Lake: wading in the water, fishing off the dock, taking a pontoon ride along the shore, looking at the waterlilies and ducks along the way.

Marissa's toes in the waters of Dana Lake, summer of 2007.

This land may not be in my family for much longer, but in a little more than a month we are headed there again, for more memories, more laughs.

The best part of my summertime childhood memories is being able to re-create them for my kids.

Wordless Wednesday: Sky Gazing

2011-05-31T20:54:00.001-05:00

Whatcha looking at, kids?

The sky, through the leaves.

They make pretty patterns.

Keep looking, kids...and never stop.

Life in Even Numbers

2011-05-27T16:30:00.003-05:00

My 7-year-old recently turned 8. That means that in a few short months my 5-year-old will be turning 6.

I don't know why, but when my kids turn even numbers it strikes me at how quickly these numbers are piling up. Perhaps it's because they are 2 years apart, and when they hit the evens it's easy to remember back to the last set of evens they hit. Maybe it's because I'm easily distracted by patterns and shiny metal objects.

Once they were zero and 2.

Then 2 and 4.

4 and 6...

And soon 6 and 8.

Once during one of those previous even years my husband and I were having a heart-to-heart discussion about our parental responsibilities. We were on the phone: he at home after an exhausting day of getting two girls off to school, working all day, then picking them up, making dinner, breaking up fights and continually nagging to get two little girls to bed. I was in a hotel room after returning back from a day that started at 4:30 am and didn't end until a client dinner ended at 10 pm in a different time zone than the one I started the day in.

I said, "It'll get easier when they get older."

He said, "You said that when they were 2 and 4. They are 4 and 6 now. When is this going to get easier?"

And then it struck me, how quickly those two years had gone by. How quickly the next two would go, then the next two, and so on and so forth. I imagined myself attending their high school graduations, wondering where the years had gone and why I hadn't taken a more active role in their lives.

And so I made a career change, to improve not just my own life but that of my family's.

Because before we know it we'll have this:

My niece Rachel and her parents at her HS graduation last weekend.

I first met Rachel when she was 3 -- she will turn 19 this summer and is heading off to college this fall. Her parents are surprised -- not that she's going to college, but that her departure came upon them so quickly.

So I will still be attending my girls' high school graduations wondering where the years had gone, but at least now I can say I was there for them. I go to their concerts, I don't miss their activities and I am able to volunteer in their classrooms.

I am there for them. And that makes me happy.

What I Don't Take For Granted

2011-05-26T21:58:00.000-05:00

A sunny day. A lake.

Time with my children.

What catches a 5-year-old's eye.

A spring breeze.

Living close to lakes in an urban area.

A random concert.

A shared joke.

An evening of joy.

A Twist on Tickets

2011-05-23T21:52:00.000-05:00

At my birthday party a couple of weeks ago, we had drink tickets for our guests. And, in my typical fashion, I don't do things typically. So I created tickets that asked for people to write a birthday wish.

When I handed them to people when they first walked in the door, you would think I had given them homework.

They pondered. They tapped their pens on their drink tickets. They wrote, re-wrote, and thought some more.

I received wonderful wishes like these:

My wish for you is...
To look forward to the constant adventure of life.
Feeling as euphoric every day as you do today!
A life full of happiness.

Okay, so this one is more of a prophecy. I hope it comes true.

I had extra drink tickets at the end of the night, so I passed more out to those who had been there for some time.

And well, this time the results were a little different.

My wish for you is...

That you have the same awesome party next year!
Great sex for the rest of your life.
That you actually remember this party five years from now.

And there's this gem:

It's true: put a bunch of 40-year-olds in a room with enough to drink, and we become high schoolers.

Gnarly.

Celebrating a Milestone

2011-05-19T09:00:00.000-05:00

I love my birthday. Have I said this before?

Well, this year is a super special one for me, because my age ends with a "zero" again.

How does one usher in the fourth decade of their life?

With a party, of course.

Does this look like the over 40 crowd?

I didn't think so, either.

Afterwards we go home and sleep...until we are awoken at 7:00 in the morning by the sound of the tree service truck.

We cook ourselves a good, hearty breakfast.

We take the kids to the neighborhood festival to spend time with friends.

Where they decide that climbing trees sounds like a lot of fun.

(It was.)

We return home in time to buy ice cream from the ice cream truck.

The family takes an afternoon nap...

...and then a game of Monopoly ensues.

What a wonderful way to celebrate. I am so blessed.

Wordless Wednesday: Minnesota Mountains

2011-05-17T22:40:00.000-05:00

A snow mountain left in a parking lot near work. Note the size of the tree next to it.

Any takers on the estimated date of when it will finally disappear?

I Can't Read It. But I Can't Look Away

2011-05-17T10:13:00.000-05:00

I get so angry. Sad. Frustrated.

I want to pick her up lifeless body and hug her, let her know that someone somewhere cared for her, would have loved her, would have treated her differently.

I read about children who were abused, chained to beds or beaten with sticks and I want to put my arms around them all. All ages, all colors, all backgrounds.

I do not understand how people can be cruel to a child. I look in my children's innocent, trusting eyes and I cannot imagine someone choosing to break that trust, to destroy that innocence.

My use of social media makes it difficult for me to avoid these stories. They pop up in my newsfeed, they land on my homepage of my personal email, they are hard to ignore.

I feel so helpless.

So I will channel that helplessness into extra hugs, extra kisses, extra time spent with my kids. If I cannot save them all, at least I can let two little girls know how much they are loved.

Spring Thunderstorm

2011-05-15T22:28:00.000-05:00

From the storm on Wednesday, May 11, 2011. It was incredible to watch the thunderhead grow as it blew our way. It dropped some small hail in our neighborhood, but much larger hail elsewhere and one tornado was created from this weather system.

You know that if you hit 85 degrees and 70 humidity in May, you're in trouble. A 50-degree breeze came in behind this system.

Explaining Osama

2011-05-13T23:40:00.001-05:00

This is this past week's Newsweek cover.

Wayne and I were discussing the latest development when the girls began asking some questions about what happened.

Where do we begin?

How much do we explain? Can they ever understand?

9/11 is my generation's Pearl Harbor. I will always remember where I was, the feeling of loss and helplessness, the understanding that the world had suddenly changed forever, and no one knew what would happen next.

Our daughters weren't even born when it happened.

We began talking about what Osama Bin Laden had done and that our country had killed him to stop him from killing more Americans. They seemed to grasp it, and the next night Marissa asked us about the "evil man" we talked about the previous night. She wanted to know if he had lived in Minnesota and if we were in danger. We got out the globe and talked about where he had been when he attacked the U.S. Suddenly Minnesota wasn't far enough away to be safe until we reassured her that he was dead.

This is one of the things I struggle with as a parent: How much do we explain of some of the world's issues and at what ages? Did we tell them too much? Too little? How do we put it into terms they will understand?

There are some pieces of history that are more than just a collection of names, dates, skirmishes and battles. The events of 9/11 are one such event, a day that changed the world forever. They do not belong filed away in their heads with the Battle of the Bulge, Watergate or the Bay of Pigs. All important events -- I don't mean to diminish them -- but their importance was unveiled with time as they unfolded. They became historic as they became history.

9/11 belongs filed away with Pearl Harbor, with the days Hiroshima and Nagasaki were bombed, with the day JFK was assassinated.

Within a single day, most people in the world knew of those events, of their importance or that their lives would take a turn they hadn't expected or wanted.

Do we explain this?

I would rather that my children know not to answer the door to strangers, to never approach an adult in a car asking for directions, and to look both ways before crossing the street.

But at some point they will learn of the greater dangers in the world, and I want them to learn them from their parents' perspective.

Teaching Friendship

2011-05-08T16:58:00.000-05:00

This past weekend Lindsey had a birthday slumber party. After last year's birthday shenanigans, we decided to tone things down a bit, keep it to just a few close friends and have a slumber party, instead of a party with lots and LOTS of friends.

I insisted that she keep it to three guests for a total of four girls. That way if they ended up pairing off in activities or games, there would be an even number. And there was no way I was dealing with six girls, four was quite enough, thank you.

She had a hard time deciding which three of her friends would be her guests.

After weeks of debating and discussing, she made the decision and excluded a very close friend of hers whom she sees five days a week at her before and after school program, as well as in the classroom. Her reasoning was that she sees this friend all the time, and the party was an opportunity to spend time with other friends who either aren't in her class or don't go to Minneapolis KIDS (the before/after school program).

I asked Lindsey a day after this decision was made if that was who she wanted at her party, and to make sure she did not want this one very close friend. Yep, she was sure. So I emailed the moms of the invitees to make sure that weekend was set aside, and a week later Lindsey brought invitations in for her three friends.

Her dear friend who hadn't been invited was crushed. Right after handing out invitations after arriving at school Lindsey came up to me and whispered, "Can I change who I ask?" No you can't, your other friends have already been asked. "Can I invite one more?" she whispers. No you can't, that is the rule.

She felt really bad for her friend who had been excluded. And then she came upon a different solution.

"Can I have a sleepover just with her one time to celebrate my birthday?" Yes, absolutely, we can have a sleepover with just this one friend, some other weekend.

That seemed to satisfy her.

During the past week Lindsey tried not to talk about her sleepover in front of her one friend, knowing that it made her feel bad, and kept reassuring her that some other weekend they would have a sleepover to celebrate. I'm glad she was thinking of her friend and caring for her feelings.

Overall the sleepover was a big hit. Everyone had a great time and no one seemed to get excluded from activities. But it was also an interesting lesson in friendship for Lindsey.

Blog Rewind: March of Dimes walk

2011-05-06T08:00:00.000-05:00

First, a huge thank you to everyone who donated to my walk for March of Dimes. Last year I raised nearly $1,000, but it had been a stretch last year and I didn't think I could reach it again, so I lowered my goal to $750.

Once again, I was humbled by people's charity. Bit by bit, dollar by dollar, I raised $822 for my walk. Just 24 hours before the walk I was still $200 short of my goal. I made a last-minute plea on my Facebook page, and was surprised and honored by:

The jr. high friend who donated, even though we haven't seen each other in 30 years. (She moved from my hometown before graduation.)
A former co-worker of mine who works in another city who donated, even though I no longer work for the company and we hadn't met in person. Ever.
The relative who donated for the first time.
Three former neighbors, two of whom moved to other states years ago, who donated.

Of these, only one would have been possible if it hadn't been for a social media network that kept us connected. A huge thank you to everyone who gave to my walk, especially my sister and mother-in-law, both of whom give so generously every year. I couldn't have done it without you.

This year I hadn't planned to actually walk: I thought I would be in sunny California, cheering my husband on as he ran the Big Sur Marathon. But alas, that trip was not to be, so I was able to continue my volunteer committee duties by showing up on the day of the walk to do whatever the staff told me to do.

Despite having been moved back a week to the first Sunday in May, walk day managed to be cold and miserable. It was 34 degrees when I left the house with a sustained 16 mph wind. I deeply regret not going back in right away to get my snowpants. I found out later that meterologists were actually using the term "windchill" for that day because of the effect of the gusting wind, which also managed to blow over one of our tents. I froze until I was numb, at which point I didn't mind the cold because I couldn't feel my ass. Happy May Day.

The volunteer committee showed up at 6:30 a.m. for an 11 a.m. walk. It seemed a little ridiculous to me, especially considering we'd had an event company come out the day before and put up the tents. Really, what could we do that would take up five and a half hours? But I dutifully showed up, fully expecting to spend long minutes in my car, keeping warm.

The first time I got to look at my watch it was nearly 9:00, at which point I did have to go to my car to log on to the laptop, write some tweets and a Facebook status update, then respond or retweet any Twitter mentions. (Greek, right?) I warmed up some, which I deeply regretted the minute I stepped back out to continue with set up, because the cold seemed even more bitter. Finally I called Wayne and asked him to come down and bring my snowpants, which I finally got around 11 o'clock. It wasn't until I had those on that I finally warmed up. Seriously, people.

Families began arriving around 10 o'clock, and I became truly amazed at these family's committment. They came in droves, pushing strollers, pulling wagons, with little ones bundled to the tip tops of their heads. Despite the miserable weather, we had close to the 4,000 expected walkers show up, and raised the $1 million the chapter was hoping to raise.

Many were families personally touched by the mission, wearing t-shirts in memory of their babies born prematurely who hadn't survived, or with pre-schoolers who wouldn't be here if it hadn't been for extraordinary care that they received after being born too soon. It was so touching to see their dedication and see their little ones, walking right along their moms and dads for the cause.

I have no pictures of my own from the day - I was too busy to take any, and my fingers too frozen to operate the camera, anyway. But it was great to experience the walk as a volunteer. I plan to be back again next year to volunteer.

Days of the Week Feet

2011-05-05T21:09:00.000-05:00

We bought day-of-the-week socks for Marissa last weekend. As of this morning there were only two pairs left: Thursday and Friday.

"Mommy," she called from her bedroom, "What day is it?"

"Thursday," I call back.

"Does that start with an 'f'?" she asks.

"No, it starts with a 't,'" I say.

"But you said Furzday," she calls, coming in to my bedroom, holding her Friday socks in her hands and emphasizing the "f" in the word as only Marissa can.

"No, it's Thursday, th- th-. It starts with a 't,'" I say, trying not to laugh.

"Okay," she says, and dutifully comes back with the Thursday socks.

What a kid.

Halfway to 16

2011-05-03T22:33:00.000-05:00

I have a running joke with my dad, who I usually see about once a year, maybe every 18 months. I love him dearly, he just lives too damn far away to see much more often than that.

When he first met Lindsey as a six-week old, he held her in his big bear hands, looked at her and said, "Gee, 18 more visits like this and I'll be attending a high school graduation."

Now every year he counts down the number of visits left before that high school graduation. Right now that count is 10. And we're halfway to driver's license age.

That's just wrong.

So I will just focus on today, and on how special she felt on her 8th birthday. She awoke at 6 a.m, thanks to an alarm that was left on after an early morning run (ahem hem, dear husband...). And she patiently waited around for over an hour until everyone was ready to be a part of the gift unwrapping.

At age 8, she is just as excited by an iTunes gift card as she is by clothes for her Barbies.

iTunes card!!

Barbie clothes! (Ignore the gray half-way loaded photo. I'm too tired to fix it.)

She was greeted with birthday wishes when she got to school, got to bring treats to her class and was sung to at her after-school program.

When we arrived home a bouquet of flowers were delivered -- her first flowers that she can remember that she's gotten, compliments of Grandpa Tom & Meme Terry. (She got some from her daddy on her first birthday, but she doesn't remember that.)

We then went out to dinner at her choice, Benihana, a hibatchi restaurant.

And of course, they sang to her there, too.

We got home just as the phone was ringing. It was Aunt Kristi, calling to wish her a happy birthday, and a voice mail from the Lau grandparents, singing to her (again).

We got both the girls to bed a little late, and she was asleep immediately, a smile on her face.

Now that's a good birthday.

Ten more to go.

The silver lining to chemotherapy

2011-05-01T17:04:00.000-05:00

It exists and is proven to fight cancer.

My dad was diagnosed with colon cancer 4 years ago. He went through a bowel re-section surgery and has had a long and difficult recovery. Thankfully the doctors had determined that the cancer had not spread and did not recommend chemotherapy or radiation treatment at the time. The whole family was relieved that he did not need to go through further treatment.

Fast forward four years.

A colonoscopy determined that the cancer has returned. It was caught early and thankfully, once again, is localized to a single site. But this time, they are recommending chemotherapy and radiation, followed by another surgery to remove the tumor. They hope that the treatment will stop the cancer from recurring.

My dad couldn't be more relieved. He is so glad there are treatment options. He and his wife were reassured in speaking to the surgeon about the road ahead; people have been down this road before, and the doctors know what to do based on those patient's outcomes.

So while I at first was dismayed at his having to go through chemo and radiation, he was happy to have that option, to keep the cancer at bay. So yes, there is a silver lining to chemotherapy.

Four years ago he kept a log of his health and the long road to recovery. He's found through the years that it's helped other people who have had similar surgery, and he's continued to get comments and emails from people who find his blog, looking for information on recovering from a bowel re-section. I like to think it's an early draft of a book titled "What Doctors Don't Tell You About Your Pooper." If you can tolerate reading all the details of the rumblings and workings of a GI system, follow his blog at http://bowelresectionhomerecover.blogspot.com/

I believe his blog will have a happy ending. But positive thoughts and prayers never hurt.

The Music These Kids Listen To...Harumph!

2011-04-28T21:25:00.002-05:00

True story: This is a joke that the principal told over the loudspeaker at Lindsey's school. Please note that her school is for kids in grades kindergarten through 2nd grade.

Q: How do you wake up Lady Gaga?

A: Poke her face.

Get it?

You wouldn't if you didn't know that one of Lady Gaga's top hits is the song "Poker Face."

Everyone in Lindsey's class laughed. They ALL got it. Second graders.

Have you seen Lady Gaga?

And I have to admit: I have purchased some Lady Gaga songs for Lindsey. I've listened to them and paid attention to the words, and deemed them if not exactly appropriate, at least not offensive. And I have to say I love the message of her song "Born This Way," for people to accept themselves the way they are.

I also love P!nk. She embodies all the things I love: she's a strong woman with an amazing voice, rebellious, who laughs at herself and is soft on the inside. And like Lady Gaga, I let Lindsey listen to a few of her songs.

But I didn't intend for the entire album to get downloaded to the iPod she listens to.

It's not like I purchased the P!nk album for her. I bought it for me. Which means that I bought the "explicit" version. And there are some clearly audible words that she absolutely should not be hearing.

So the other night I hear the song "Funhouse" start up on her iPod in her room, and I immediately have her turn it. I let her know that there are words and songs that she shouldn't have on there, and that I am going to re-sync her iPod. That's when she informs me that she listened to the entire thing on the drive to Tracy last weekend.

Crap. Or something a bit stronger.

Turns out the last time I synced her iPod I had the settings from syncing mine, so she got all of my songs. I've rectified that now, and have also added a few songs that I think she might like, to try to replace the ones she liked that I've now taken off her iPod.

It's time she get exposed to The Beatles. No hidden messages in "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds," right?

I joke, but I love sharing music with Lindsey. She's at an age when she wants to discover new music, and I love sharing with her. Music was an integral part of my growing up years. I remember hearing Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here" on my new stereo and getting completely absorbed in the opening guitar solo.

I wonder if she listens to Lady Gaga and P!nk now, what will she be listening to when she gets older? Only time will tell -- all that she wants right now is a really good beat and a catchy chorus.