Leaving Oz

Wildfire on campus

The phone call from my son, Hethaestus, came early Thursday evening.  "Mom, I thought you should know.  A wildfire started in the hill just above Westmont College.  It's reached campus, so everyone has been evacuated into the gymnasium. The gym is built of cinder-block; it's fire-safe.  I'm at the apartment, so I'm ten miles away, but I can see the glow from here.  Two of my roommates are still on campus, and lots of my friends.  I've been texting them--everybody seems safe."

My Speechless Ultrasound

I wanted to send an update about my latest prayer request.  For months, I've been dreading what I had to go through being over 35 years old and pregnant.  I've been asking for peace of mind to get through the genetic ultrasound done that is done at 18 weeks. 

When the test was done for my first pregnancy, there were multiple "markers" that indicated brain damage, down syndrome, and trisonomy 18 defects. We forewent doing the amnio, since we were committed to have the baby, defect or no defect.  We had to undergo regular testing to monitor the status.  Needless to say, we endured months of tears, agony for months, waiting to see something change.  It wasn't until testing was done later in the pregnancy showed that everything was fine.  The results had been false negative.

So going into the test this second time, Hubby and I were very stressed.  We braced ourselves for a set of "markers" and a pregnancy frought with worry once again.

Mom Goes to a Sporting Event

My husband takes our boys to every San Jose Earthquakes soccer home game. The boys love the noise, the flags, the off-color cheers, the stadium food and gigantic sodas – as well as watching the game, of course. 

Last night, I decided to join them since my younger son was going to get to walk around the field just before the game started, for AYSO Summer Camp graduation.  And when the boys found out I was coming, they panicked.    “What?  Why is Mom coming?  Uh oh...” was their general reaction.

Okay, I expected this, since Mom is synonymous with being told what not to do, what dangers to avoid, and how to behave properly.  In other words, Mom is no fun! 

Even my husband was aware that the evening might be a little more stressful than usual due to potential conflicts that would emerge between the boys and me.  I assured him that I was going to do my hardest to just be a fly on the wall, to not say anything, and to just tag along and not cause trouble.

Farewell to My College-Bound Daughter

She's gone.  I waved goodbye from behind a glass window after she cleared security, pulled her hiking boots back over her "Nightmare before Christmas" socks, and hoisted her carry-on bag onto her shoulder. Then she strolled off to Gate 25 and her future.  It was 6:15am.  My tissues were too soggy to be useful, but the diner where we'd shared breakfast had napkins to spare.  I got home in a fog, fed the cats, put in earplugs against the garbage trucks prowling the neighborhood, and went back to sleep.

Yesterday, she withdrew into herself.  She's an introvert, and gains strength from her alone time, so I wasn't alarmed.  She spent alone time in all her favorite places--our roof, our climbing tree, my room. It seemed that she was steeping herself in these special places one last time.

Love Notes

Every so often, I will wander over to my bed at the end of a too-long day and wonder if anything at all worthwhile got accomplished in the last 20 hours.  Then I will find a colorful pencil drawing with a note on my pillow telling me I am loved. The kids get so excited about these notes and will often tell me as soon as they have delivered their missive onto the bed.  But even though I have been forewarned, I am still pleasantly surprised to find the letter, and sit contentedly on the side of my bed to examine the child's drawing and read the caring message.

One such evening, I found not one but two love letters, and decided to write them back.  Shocking that that thought never crossed my mind before.  The kids were playing with their Papa, and so I had time to scribble out a few lines to each of my four children and place the notes on their pillows before they went to bed.  I waited in eager anticipation for them to discover the little slips of paper.

Living in the Moment

I saw John Mayer in concert over the weekend, a show I’d been looking forward to for a long time. I love to see live music, but what I don’t like is all the anticipation followed by the let down once it’s over. It just goes by so quickly! In the middle of the concert, when Mayer was singing “Why Georgia,” and we were all singing along with the lyric “am I living it right?” I had to stop and say to myself: Enjoy this moment. Here. Now.

Am I living it right Lord? I often stop and ask. I spend so much time planning for my life, and the lives of everyone in my household, and then once we arrive at each scheduled, calendared item, we rush through it, onto the next.

I want to live in the moment, to enjoy *every minute* of my life, to savor each cute thing my children do or say, to lock into memory every simple and poignant act. Even in the unpleasant moments I want to be in the moment, to use all available resources and creativity to turn the situation around.

The Good Enough Mom

As my oldest child nears her 10th birthday next week, I can tell you: I'm not an amazing mom. It's taken me 10 years to be okay with this, but it's true.

I've never sewn a Halloween costume. The last birthday cake I made was for my daughter's first birthday. I do let my son play video games longer than I should. I probably have even allowed transfats and artificial colors and flavors to cross their lips a time or two. I could go on and on, but you get the picture.

I've decided that I am not, and never will be, the kind of woman whose friends whisper about, saying, "Can you believe her? How does she do it all? She is just such an incredible mom!" Instead, I've decided to be a Good Enough Mom.

Feeling Welcome With Kids

This past weekend we were invited to a wedding for an old colleague of my husbands. Actually, Rob was in the wedding and the whole family was invited. There was a time in our lives about ten or eleven years ago where our summer was almost entirely booked with weddings. Then there was a period a few years after that where we were flooded with baby showers. Now, we tend to be swamped with little kid birthday parties, and weddings are a rare event in our lives. Neither of our kids, ages 3 and 6, had ever been to one so they were mildly curious. I, on the other hand, I simply felt dread as the day approached.      

Here's what I saw looming ahead... an intimate wedding at a private estate in Santa Rosa with two little kids who couldn't sit still through dinner, much less a Greek orthodox wedding ceremony, complete with crowns, chanting, communion and a forecast for temperatures in the 90's. Plus, there was the fact that Rob would be in the wedding party, which meant he wouldn't be much help, and as an added bonus he was going to be reunited with a bunch of his old friends that he hadn't seen in years. Just how many people was I going to know at this exciting event? Oh, about two- the groom and one of the other groomsmen -  a lot of good that'd do me.  I was determined to be a trooper, though. I knew that Rob was really excited, and I didn't want to rain on his parade so off we went.

Reminder to Self: Even If It's Old to Me, It’s New to Him

I was driving BL home from his gym class and realized that I hadn’t prepared lunch for either of us. So, I decided to stop by our local supermarket to buy lunch. Since I was only grabbing a few things, I thought it wouldn’t be too bad to have him walk along side me in the market while I shopped.

Right when we got into the market he ran to look at the flowers. That should have been my cue to get a cart or to just go home. I was hungry and tired (just like BL) and thought we could push through. But, I was wrong. He wanted to stop and look at everything. Every bag was a new toy. Every food item was something to throw. I would tell him to stop playing with the food and follow me. But, he was too enamored with his new “toys” to stop and only wanted more.

I got more and more frustrated every time he would stop and point at something new. By the end of our 10 minute outing, everything I said to him was a command. “Come here. Stop that. Don’t touch this”. He knew I was mad at him and started crying…”Great, just what I need” I thought. “Get home, get his lunch ready and then let the nanny take care of him. I’m done.”

Soaking Swim Trunks Can Be Dangerous

No, I'm not moving.  That is not why the cabinets under the sink are empty.  And no, there wasn't a break-in committed at our house.  There is a logical explanation to why all the drawers have been pulled out and everything is gone.

You see, it's summertime.  TJ finally got to sport his new Thomas The Tank Engine swim trunks.  I forgot to wash them the day before when I peeled them off him.  So, now they smell a bit like dried chlorine. 

And what I love to do often is what I call "soaking".  Soaking is my secret household weapon that Hubby continually finds baffling. 

"Can I help wash these dirty dishes in the sink?"  Hubby likes looking at an empty, cleaned up sink.

"They're soaking.  I'll get to them."  Soaking is used when I'm multi-tasking around the house.

"Um, what about this wet shirt in the bathroom sink?" Hubby hollers from upstairs.

"Yeah, those are soaking too." Oh, shoot.  I need to scrub that stain out before it actually disintegrates the one shirt I love.

"But, weren't they soaking here earlier this morning?" Uh.. oops.