A weekend for mommy

You know you're a mom when your kids and husband are gone for the weekend and you clean house. Our home will be a Superfund Disaster site within 10 minutes of them arriving home, but it's clean now!!

Don't worry - I didn't spend the entire weekend cleaning. (It's really amazing how much one person can get done when you're not redoing everything every five minutes.)

I actually slept in both days, caught up on some Girl Scout training, read, meandered through several bookstores for as long as I WANTED, went hiking at the Heard Museum and Wildlife Sanctuary in McKinney, read, ate, slept, and saw the Hobbit with my best friend, Joseph Singleton. He's only here until Tuesday, then back to Antarctica for another 8-12 months, so it was nice to hangout. He blogs at Joseph on Ice (also a Blogger site), if you want to see some AMAZING photos.

The only seriously crazy thing that happened was that I had to drive the big diesel truck, so I think I might have caused a few heart attacks on Central. Nothing was reported in this morning's paper, but I still need to check tomorrow. Keep your fingers crossed! It's hard for me to keep that thing between the white lines. Parking isn't fun, either. :-)

New Year's Resolution

I stopped making New Year's resolutions few years ago. I'm not sure why exactly but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Honestly, what would I resolve to do.... I eat tons of fruits and vegetables, I workout regularly and don't need to lose weight, I enjoy an occasional adult beverage (ok, sometimes it's more than occasional - depends on how the workday went), and I try to give 100 percent to everything I do. I sometimes fall short, but I do try - that has to be worth something.

This year, though, I think I'm going to break the trend and make one. I'm a few days late to the party, but making quick decisions does not run in my family.

I know. Maybe I'll resolve to workout less? Ha ha ha. Not gonna happen. I'm hard-wired to workout. It keeps me sane. A few days without a run and I turn into a werewolf. Ok, so that's a stretch, but running definitely help me maintain my sanity and I don't plan to drop it - despite some assertions that I can be a bit obsessive! I'm also obsessive about chocolate cake, but nobody tells me I should eat less. Quite the opposite.

Maybe I could resolve to eat less meat? Ha ha ha. I laughed at that one, too. I see that resolution going over real well with the hubby, who would be happy to eat meat at every single meal. Come to think of it, he pretty much does eat it at every single meal. I can sometimes get away with a meatless meal, but even when I think he's made something meatless, I find out that he's cooked the dish with bacon or tiny ham bits. So, no, I'm not going to resolve to do that. I would risk eviction.

How about this? How about I resolve to blog something everyday.... or 3 times a week. That sounds more doable. I may not say anything of consequence, but I miss writing and I need a deadline. So, here we go. In 2013, I resolve to write or post something on this blog at least three times a week. (Three posts on Saturday is allowable, but not recommended.) There, I made a resolution. Please keep me in your thoughts that my resolution lasts longer than most diets and that it doesn't wind up like the diet orange soda I put in the freezer and then forgot about!

P.S. I promise to write about the Monkey and the Squid, too! They love the limelight. :-)

Stuffy noses

There's something to this supposed second child syndrome - at least the part where they're more likely to give you a heart attack than the first child.

Last Sunday's antics included finding the Monkey trying to wash her hair in the toilet. Half her head was wet when I walked into the girls' bathroom and gasped "what are you doing???" She pointed to her head and then the toilet. The Monkey is a child of few words, but she gets her message across. The potty was clean and empty - not always an easy thing in a house with a 4.5-year-old and a 2-year-old - but the toilet?!? Ugh. After a quick discussion about how we wash our hair, hands, bodies, etc. in the tub or sink - which she will probably never remember - we put down the toilet seat and ran her a tub of bath water.

The fun didn't stop there. Today, we come home from a marshmallow and hot dog party completely exhausted and ready for some serious napping. The Squid passed out, but the Monkey (who had been sleeping sitting up in the car) just wouldn't settle down. Eventually, I caved in and took her outside - only to find out that she had stuffed a dandelion bloom up her nose. Her right nostril to be exact! The best part was that she positioned it so the only way to get it out was with tweezers. If you tried to pull it out with your fingers, it just went further up her nose.

We have an adventurous one! I thought boys only did this - boy was I wrong. The Squid spoiled us - she never did anything like this. She repeatedly conducted the "will it float" test in our potty, but she never tried to wash her hair in the potty. Her hands, yes. Her hair, no. And as for her nose - nothing that wasn't supposed to go up her nose ever did. This is where I'm thinking that the second child syndrome comes in. We were on the Squid like hawks; I watched her every move. I tried to give her space, but I'm sure the Monkey has a lot more than her big sister ever did. The Squid also talked a lot earlier, whereas the Monkey has no incentive to talk because her sister does all the talking for her. She's far from being mute, and her vocabulary is improving, but talking is clearly not the Monkey's favorite thing. That may actually work in my favor in the long run as I sometimes want to run from the house screaming when our family gets together...too much talking, too much talking.

Anyway. Our fate is sealed. If the path continues, we will most definitely wind up in the ER before grade school. I don't even want to think about when they're teens. Please keep us and the Monkey's nose in your thoughts. Mom out.

Kindergarten Countdown

The Squid starts kindergarten this August and I'm thinking of starting a pool around who's more excited - me or the Squid. Classes start on Aug 27 - or maybe it's the Aug. 28 - but first we have to get through Kindergarten Round-up on March 22.

I don't know the time, but the date is already plugged into my phone. I have to go to the dentist and give a talk that day, but it'll all be worked around the roundup at Northrich Elementary.

Since friends have been debating lately whether to send their kid to kindergarten or hold him back, I'm almost afraid to admit that the thought never crossed my mind. I've never even considered the possibility that the Squid wouldn't start school this fall. She'll turn 5 in June, so she'll be on the younger side, but she won't be the youngest.

Here's why I haven't considered it:

She's incredibly social - I fully expect to get letters from from school about the Squid passing notes, talking in class, etc. She'll probably surprise me, but she's a total social butterfly compared to me at that age. Definitely a first-child in terms of stubbornness, and she can be a bit overbearing, but she's incredibly dedicated to whatever she's working on and she can focus (if she wants to).

As for the basic skills, she's still perfecting writing the alphabet, but she knows all her letters, is comfortable counting, and is starting to recognize words that are written down. She also works well with others, and genuinely thinks about things before she answers a question - a skill her mother could use some work on from time to time. She still blurts random comments out from time to time, but that's her parents fault. (If nothing else, blame the parents, right??).

She also knows her address and her parents' real names (not just mommy and daddy). We probably need to teach her our phone number - she's not getting a cell phone for kindergarten.

Is there anything else she needs to do to prep for kindergarten??

Zoo Funnies

We're not particularly great about actually applying stickers to the sticker chart we keep posted on the fridge for the Squid. It gets lost amongst all the coupons, pictures, recipes, and other junk we keep there. So it's a big deal when she fills in all the spaces and almost always involves a trip to the zoo. 

We have two zoos in the area - the Dallas Zoo and the Fort Worth Zoo - but we almost always go to the Dallas one because we can take the train (a train ride for the girls!) and it's closer. It's generally cheaper, too, but maybe that's because we only go to the Zoo when it's discounted admission (re: the recent Penguin Days - $5 a pop for everyone 3 and older. Can't beat that!!)

Anyway, the Dallas Zoo has improved SO much these past few years. The girls LOVE the African Safari  area, and we're all looking forward to the new Koala exhibit opening. That should be really cool. The Squid and the Monkey both have their own Safari Passports now, so they get a new stamp every time we check in to Base Camp. The Squid loves hers, but the Monkey just wants to color and rip the pages out of hers.... just like a 2-year-old. We'd be golden if I could remember to bring either one to the Zoo. A volunteer took pity on me last time and gave the girls new passports with extra stamps because I said I'd left mine at home. Some of the volunteers are real sticklers about the "only one stamp per visit" rule, but if you go when there are a lot of people at the desk, you can generally get another stamp. It helps to ask nicely! 

Going to the Zoo with a two-year-old and a 4.5 year old is definitely an experience that I'm not sure I would recommend to those with a faint heart. We took the double stroller mainly for the Monkey, but she absolutely refused to be strapped into or even sit on the edge of the stroller. She used it as a ladder to see the animals, but not for traveling. She wanted to walk - actually "strut" with her hips swishing from side to side. That girl has attitude and style, and yes, both the husband and I realize that we are so in for it when they become teens. 

The Squid, on the other hand, walked for a bit, but then rode in the stroller between EVERY single exhibit - even if it was all of 100 feet away. I think she was afraid we'd leave her with the monkeys or something. The thought did cross my mind once or twice.... just kidding. 

The weather that day was fabulous, so all the animals were out. We saw the elephants, giraffes, penguins, lions, gorillas (woo hoo! We saw 2 of them playing), chimps, etc. We also saw the sole rhino and a tiger (just barely - he was pacing the edge of his area; seemed to be having a moment). We skipped the bugs, snakes, and reptiles this time. Watching your child have a total meltdown in the middle of a room filled with giant snakes on the other side of a single glass pane is not something I want to experience ever, ever, ever again. 

I've about decided that the secret to a successful trip to the zoo  - or any other place with kids - is to take food. Lots and lots and lots of food - and don't forget the gummy bears for dessert!

Lenten Confessions

Lent has never been a big part of my life. I've watched as friends gave up sodas, candy, and/or ice cream for the six-week season with some sense of awe but mostly a "you're giving up what? and why?" attitude. Being a Unitarian-Universalist meant I was exposed to many other religions including Catholicism, but I've never participated in many of the more ritualistic aspects of Judeo-Christian religions such as confession, Lent, etc.

Unfortunately, that knowledge hasn't kept me from unintentionally and usually naively sticking my foot in my mouth from time to time. 

Case in point: In high school, I once walked up to a classmate on Ash Wednesday and told them "in confidence" and away from traffic that she had a big smudge of charcoal on her forehead. I still remember the dumbfounded look she gave me. I couldn't tell you her name or even what she said, but her facial expression has stuck with me. It was the "OMG, did you really just say that!"

In my defense, I spent at least 2 hours of every day in the main art studio at my high school - so I always had charcoal, paint, chalk, etc. under my fingernails, on my hands and arms, and sometimes on my face. I was one of the "art students," so I really didn't care. I actually always appreciated it when someone told me that I had missed a smudge of charcoal under my eye or on the side of my forehead. This person did not.

I have since opted to check the calendar before offering up my two cents and a tissue to others with charcoal on their foreheads!

Remembering September 11, 2001

 I don't usually use this space to talk about myself, and I haven't used it much at all lately (too much work), but I can't let today pass without commenting on the aay that changed all our lives. Ten years ago today, on September 11, 2001, I was sitting in the Southwest Airlines terminal at Corpus Christi International Airport waiting to board a flight back to Dallas. The Today Show was on - and being a Matt Lauer/Katie Couric junkie - I had my eyes glued to the television. What news was breaking today? What did I need to know about before I went in to work later that day at the Dallas Morning News?

Like many, I couldn't believe my eyes when a plane flew into the World Trade Center right behind Matt's head. I figured someone was filming a movie. It seemed strange that the anchors would have the Twin Towers as a backdrop if someone was filming, but my little experience in TV taught me that anything can happen.When it was announced that terrorists had just flown an American Airlines jet into the Tower and that it was no joke, my heart started racing. I had spent the weekend visiting my mom and stepdad in Corpus Christi and now I just wanted to be home. I needed to be home - and at work, where reporters and editors were starting to scramble. I was a clerk for the Religaion section at the time, but this was all-hands-on-deck, no questions asked. I called my dad in Dallas and told him to turn on the TV. Having spent part of my childhood in New Jersey, I knew that he had friends in NYC and would be worried. A few worked at the Trade Center. He was supposed to pick me up at the airport later that morning. I then called my mom, who had dropped me off at the airport before heading to elementary school where she taught strings. I told her that the flight was delayed, but that she should turn on her classroom TV because someone had flown an AA plane into the Twin Towers. Mark was next on my list. We had been dating less than a month, but there was a definite attachment and he knew I was flying home today. I called my boss last and reported that I wasn't sure when I would make it in, but that I was trying to get home.

For the next hour, Southwest Airlines went back and forth, saying "we're going, then we're staying, we're going in 30 minutes, then we're staying." When the FAA grounded all airplanes, one of my mom's colleagues drove out to the airport and picked me up. We spent much of the morning glued to the television set in her classroom. I don't remember if the school cancelled Specials (strings, band, art, dance) that day, but I don't remember any kids coming into her room. The teachers were all in shock, but they tried to keep appearances up for the kids' sake. It was apparently decided that this was something their parents would need to handle later that day. Eventually, when it was clear that I wouldn't be (and didn't want to) getting on an airplane that day, my mom drove me back out to the airport and with a promise that I'd be reimbursed by the paper, I used my charge card to rent one of the last cars available. A few guys were looking to split a car, but they were headed another direction. I think the car rental agency overcharged me - $500 to rent a car to drive from Corpus to Dallas!! - but I had been told by my boss to "get home now" so I was not in a position to haggle. I don't remember much of he 7-8  hour drive to Dallas, only that NPR ran a continuous stream of news about the attacks. Not much was known at the time, so they repeated the same details over and over and over. Occasionally, they'd learn something new and would report it, but otherwise, it was information about the events that I had unknowingly witnessed on live television. I mostly took the back roads home to avoid traffic, but even those were eerily empty. Everyone was at home or work, glued to their TVs and radios. I thought about heading to I-35, but that would have delayed my return even longer.

I made it home sometime between 8 and 9 p.m. that night and then ran through the calls again: work (don't come in tonight; get some rest and we'll see you tomorrow.), mom, dad, my brother, grandma, Mark. I probably called more people, but I was emotionally and physically exhausted and can't remember much more than that. The next few weeks passed by in a blur, with seemingly endless coverage of the attacks from all possible angles.

Ten years later, I look at my husband, our two healthy girls, and my step-daughter who's about to be married, and say thank you, thank you, thank you, to the men and women who put their lives on the line to protect us that day and every day since then. 

I still wear a sterling silver bracelet bearing the name of a New York City Firefighter who lost his life at the World Trade Center. I purchased the Mercy Band after writing an article for the Religion section on the woman/charity who designed and sold them. I wear it to remind myself and others of what happened that day, but mostly I wear it as a memorial to Michael Cawley. I never met him, but am beyond grateful for his service that day and every day leading up to 9/11/01. When my girls are a bit older, I plan to pull out the brief bio about him and explain why mommy wears the band so often. He is a true hero.

Grad School: Final Project

Since August 2006, I've been working toward a Master of Arts degree in Emerging Media and Communications (EMAC) at the University of Texas at Dallas. My coursework is completed, but in order to graduate, I must complete one more assignment: a capstone project.

I'm interested in Girl Scout retention so I'm going to produce a series of videos (6-8) featuring real women talking about their experiences as older Girl Scouts. Ideally, I'll feature four HS students or recent HS graduates who completed their Gold Award and 4 adults. Adults don’t have to have completed their Gold Award, but it would be GREAT if they had. The videos will all be about 2 minutes long, so I'm not looking for a major time commitment from anyone.

What sort of commitment would this require?

HS students/recent graduates

• 1-2 short Q&A style interviews
• Me shooting video of you working on your Gold Award project and interacting with other Scouts
• Subject-shot footage (still shots) of you participating in Girl Scout activities

Adults

• 1-2 short Q&A style interviews
• Me shooting video of you interacting with older Girl Scouts (B-roll)
• Subject-shot footage (still shots) of you as a Girl Scout 

What do you get out of all this?

• After editing, I will offer all footage to you for your usage. 
• If you're interested, I will teach you how to shoot and edit video.
• I’m also willing to come talk to your troops and about emerging media/ public relations/journalism and/or edit college applications, etc.

Let me know if you are interested, and feel free to share this link with anyone you think might be interested in helping!

Thanks,

Kristen 

Visit to the dentist = partytime??

When did going to the dentist become akin to going to a kid's birthday party? Have kids always left the dentist's office with toothbrushes, balloons and loot bags? (Did I get royally screwed by a cheap dentist as a child?)

Since the Monkey is sprouting teeth faster than her big sister is growing, we recently took both in to get their teeth checked out. It was the Squid's third appointment; the Monkey's first.

After my first experience taking the Squid to the dentist, I put the hubby in charge of dental care. I go to help corral the munchkins, but it's the hubby's show. He's known the doc forever, so I just make sure the appointment's with her and we go from there.

Part of the reason I put him in charge is because the office is set up like a McDonald's, but without the food. The fact that there's an indoor playground in the dentist's office doesn't bother me (I sometimes wish they had one at my dentist's office.), but it can be a bit much when you're stuck in a room with a dozen toddlers and school-aged kids running and screaming at the top of their lungs. Not that I blame them. Going to the dentist doesn't exactly make my top 10 list of things to do. I've never even really had a bad experience, but spending 30-60 minutes staring at the ceiling while someone brushes, flosses and polishes your not-so-perfect teeth is not my idea of a good time.

Anyway, the appointment went well. Both girls have good, healthy teeth - and lots of them. The Monkey's even starting to get a molar!! But then the madness began. You see, the girls equate going to dentist to going to a party. They have to open their mouth for a few minutes and let people examine and clean their teeth, but that's over within minutes and then it's time for loot- lots and lots of loot.

I should say that I'm not anti-lollipop. I have no problem with physicians, dentists, eye docs... giving patients treats after an appointment. If giving a kid (or an adult, for that matter) a sticker or lollipop on the way out the door will make them keep still during an exam, I'm all for it. I have really good memories of getting to select a single toy/piece of candy from the treasure chest at my pediatric dentist's office. Hell, even today, I always look for the free lollipops and snacks when I leave my dentist's office after a cleaning. So I do support bribery. It can be useful, but it does seem to have gotten out of hand.

From this one visit alone we walked out the door with no less than: 2 balloons, 5 toothbrushes, and two goody bags filled with plastic yo-yo's, stickers, fake play glasses..... there was some other stuff in the goody bags but I'm not exactly sure what it is. It's mostly those  plastic toys parents stuff in goody bags to make them look fuller.

I didn't take any of the stuff away from the girls. They love their dentist and she loves them - that's not a relationship I want to challenge. And she and Mark have known each other since she was a teenager, so that probably has something to do with the amount of toys we walked away with. But how much is too much? When does the madness stop? What happened to the day when a kid walked out with a shiny new toothbrush and maybe one small toy?

I'm not going to rant anymore because I adore the girls' dentist and have no plans to go elsewhere. I would recommend her to anyone. But has anyone else experienced this? Does anyone else think that leaving the dentist with enough loot to stage a birthday party is a bit much?

It's going to be a very cold, white Christmas... just kidding!

Since both Mark’s and my parents are divorced and living in different parts of the country, where we spend Christmas Day varies from year to year. This year was my mom’s, so we headed to Santa Fe to spend the holiday with the Wylie-Holland-Onuf clan. We packed for extreme cold, and as luck would have it, 2010 ended up being one of the warmest Christmases we’ve celebrated in recent years. Go figure that when I don’t pack any lightweight clothes, we need lightweight clothes. I’ll learn – someday. It goes without saying that my mom (Gaga to the girls) knows how to celebrate. We had a three person birthday party our first night there (me, my stepdad and the Monkey were all born between 12/16 and 12/24) and had another party on Christmas Day.

The entire holiday was great, but a few moments stuck out:

• The Monkey started walking. Not by herself, mind you, but she figured out how to grab hold of a push walker and dash across the house. She also figured out how to climb onto the bottom rung of a stepladder. Getting off the bottom rung is a whole other matter… here's the video.

• The Squid found just what she asked for under the tree on Christmas morning, plus a personal note from Santa Clause and a stocking full of goodies. She oooed and awed over the wooden train set and managed to take it completely apart within a few minutes. The Monkey helped a bit, but she was too enamored with her own gift from Santa Clause – musical instruments.

• Despite the cold temps, the Squid treated her GG (my grandma) to several tea parties on the back patio. It was absolutely adorable to see the two of them sitting on the back porch, sipping pretend tea and chatting away about nothing in particular.

• Date afternoon: So, the one thing I requested for my birthday was a chance to go see a movie with Mark. My dream came true and we saw the latest installment of the Harry Potter franchise. I don’t remember the last time we had an afternoon to ourselves, so to say it was delightful would be an understatement. Many blessings to all grandparents and great-grandparents who are willing, able and excited to give their kids some time to themselves now and again! 

There are quite a lot of us in our blended family and everyone gets a stocking - whether you're at mom and Chris' house or not! GG made all the knitted stockings and has one for the Monkey in the works as we speak!

Merry Christmas, here we come!

Like everyone else, I find it extremely hard to believe that 2010 is almost over. This time last year, I was relearning how to take care of an infant - this time with the added challenge of taking care of a toddler at the same time. Both the Squid and the Monkey have changed a lot in the past year. Mark and I have, too, but the change doesn't seem as dramatic when you're an adult. Since I haven't blogged in a couple weeks, I thought I'd wrap up the year by providing a quick rundown of our Christmas holidays.

The Monkey’s birthday: I know from personal experience that kids born in December get royally jipped this time of year. Not only do people inevitably try to call gifts combination birthday-Christmas gifts, but they’re also really busy with their own families. Mark thought I was nuts for scheduling a birthday party for a one-year-old (thought the same thing w/ her big sister’s party) but I think it’s important to celebrate a child’s milestones. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I had few birthday parties as a child. Having a Christmas Eve birthday will do that to a girl. On the plus side, I get to spend every birthday with family. But on the downside, I get to spend every birthday with family. Rather than completely skip out on celebrating the Monkey’s birthday, we just spread it out a bit. Since her birthday was on Thursday this year, we started celebrating her first birthday on Wednesday the 15th with Mexican food, margaritas (ok, so this was more of a celebration for mom and dad!) and key lime pie (which she LOVED, by the way). Her actual birthday party took place on Saturday. A few other babies came over and we had a great time watching them scoot around on the floor, play in the Squid’s tent and eye the dogs through the door. The cake didn’t look like what I expected, but it tasted amazing – the custard filling was fantastic! Another top score for the Tom Thumb at Coit and Campbell! As exciting as her birthday was, it was also bittersweet as she completely stopped nursing the night before her first birthday. I’ve written before that she had become less and less interested, but that night she flat out refused to nurse. It broke my heart in so many ways. I know it’s better if they wean themselves, but I wasn’t ready. I’m sure it’ll be the first of many disappointments, but hopefully the happy moments will outweigh the sad ones.

Visit with Santa: After several weeks of careful prepping on my part (including a trip to Santa's Village to see him arrive that first night), we all bundled up and headed across the street to meet and greet the man himself. I went and got in line w/ the Monkey about 20 minutes before his arrival, but that wasn't early enough, so we still spent more than an hour in line. The weather was warmer than in past years, though, so the wait wasn't bad. The Monkey, Squid and I wandered around the Village taking pictures while Mark held our place in line. When it was finally her turn, the Squid climbed into Santa's lap and gave him a great big grin. We got some really cute photos and she told him that she wanted a train and a track for Christmas! She had told me several times that she wanted a train and track, but I wasn’t certain that she'd say that to Santa. Until a few days beforehand, she was saying she wanted “big girl toys.” She was never able to tell me what a big girl toy was, but that’s what she wanted. Needless to say, it was both a relief and a holy-cow-guess-I’m-going-shopping-again moment when asked Santa for a choo-choo train and track.

The Monkey’s first visit with Santa Clause was less successful, but the photo is definitely one for the album! She screamed her heart out as soon as Mark plopped her down on his lap and I snapped a photo and had Mark grab her back up before Santa’s elf had a chance to snap the official ‘Santa’s Village’ shot. Thanks to the wonders of Photoshop- and an awesome colleague of mine – we still wound up with a single shot of the girls! Woo hoo!

Twas the night before Christmas

As a child, I remember arriving at my paternal grandparents house every year on Christmas day to find stacks and stacks of The Night Before Christmas books. My grandmother collected them, so she picked up copies during she and my granddaddy's travels and friends brought her copies from their own travels. As I got older, I remember scouring bookstores everywhere I went looking for an edition she didn't have to add to her collection. By the time she died on Dec. 17, 2003, she had close to 100 copies of the classic Christmas tale including versions in French and Spanish and a few other languages. They all have different artwork and slight variations on the text, but the message is the same.

When my dad and his two brothers came to me shortly after her death and asked if there was anything I wanted, I asked for a few pictures, but said that the only thing I really wanted was the Night Before Christmas collection. I'm not sure whether they gave me the entire collection because my birthday is Christmas Eve, because I was the first grandchild, or just because I asked, but shortly thereafter Dad arrived at my house with a huge gray plastic trunk with a burgundy top. The side read: Night Before Christmas collection.

My granddaddy had died exactly one week after grandmother - on Christmas Eve (my 25th birthday) - so to say I was still shell-shocked would be a bit of an understatement. I hadn't moved from the anger phase of the grieving process, so I did the only thing I could do. I put the trunk in the garage. And there is stayed, unopened, for seven years.

In the seven years since Dad delivered the trunk, I married my husband, buried two cats, added two dogs and another cat to our brood, and had two beautiful girls. The oldest is now 3 1/2; the youngest turned one on Dec. 16.

I'm not sure what changed inside me, but when we were getting the Christmas decorations out in early December and I saw the trunk, I grabbed it as well. I lugged the 60-70 lb. trunk off the shelf in the garage, though the kitchen and into the living room, where I'm embarrassed to say that I opened the trunk for the first time since it had been in my possession. I also announced a new family tradition. From here on out, we're going to read at least one of the books every night of December until Christmas Day. The best part is that we've actually done this.

Every night since then, Mark, the girls and I have snuggled up in the Squid's bed and read at least one of the books. The choice of the night varies in that we just pop open the lid and tell the Squid to grab one. So far, we've enjoyed the Cajun and Grandma Moses versions plus multiple takes on the original. Maybe tonight she'll pick a foreign language edition.

Surprisingly, the trunk contained more than the book collection. It also included a handful of stuffed animals that must have been my dad and uncle's childhood toys (need to send them pics to see if they want them) as well as my granddaddy's dress hat from when he served in the U.S. Merchant Marines.

Looking back, I wish I had opened the trunk sooner. I'm really not sure why I hadn't. I like to think that it wasn't because we don't have room or that we were worried that the dogs would drool on them, but that I was still going through the grieving process. Losing my grandparents within a week of each other was a truly unbearable experience for me. They weren't there to see me get married or meet their great-grandchildren. Though my grandmother's death was expected, my granddaddy's was not. The fact that it happened on my 25th birthday only made it that much harder.

I don't want to dwell in the past. The fact is that the trunk has been opened and my children now have the opportunity to learn a little something about two people who meant more to me than words can express. This is a good thing.

The end is near

It happened. The Monkey flat-out refused to nurse this morning. I’ve known that the day was coming, but it still broke my heart. After nearly a year of experiencing that sweet bond that only a mother and her child can have, I know now that my days really are numbered. She nursed several other times later in the day, but the early morning shunning was a heart-breaker. I hate pulling out my pump on the weekend, but there was no other way I was going to get any relief this morning. My sweet baby opted for pancakes with homemade mixed berry syrup instead of spending 10 minutes snuggling with mommy.

The thing is that I’ve known this day would come. After she bit me and drew blood a few months ago, I joked that she was only going to get a year – if that. It was pretty much day-by-day for awhile. She has since sprouted 2 more teeth (for a total of 8) but we’ve found a nice equilibrium where I nurse her until she starts acting frantic/exhausted. At that point, I put her to bed, give her a sippy cup of water or juice, or grab a quick snack.

I’m not quite sure why I feel so conflicted. I recently started reducing the frequency of feedings (i.e. pumping sessions). And I was thrilled beyond belief when the Monkey slept through the night five nights in a row. I want my body back and have been looking longingly at the rest of my wardrobe – you know, the dresses and slim-fit shirts that are impractical when you may have to feed or pump every few hours.

But I still love the closeness and the one-on-one time nursing provides. And since I nursed her older sister for 18 months, part of me feels that the Monkey’s getting the short end of the stick yet again. She not only gets second-hand clothes, toys and bedding, but she also gets less – if any - routine alone time with mommy and daddy, and fewer months nursing. I realize (and have told many others) that every child is different and that you can’t treat kids the same, but this is one area where I really hoped I could give each of my girls the same thing. What I didn’t count on, though, was that the Monkey would come out weighing one and a half pounds more than her sister or that she’d have eight teeth by her first birthday! The Squid had less than that when I stopped nursing her at 18 months.

I know this isn’t the end of the world. I was able to nurse the Monkey several times throughout the day. And even if she had flat out refused again, I know that I don’t have to worry about her getting enough to eat. The girl is a mini-eating machine who happens to love and adore me. Deep inside, I know that her refusal to nurse is not a rejection of me – it’s a sign that she’s growing up and starting to assert her independence. Right now, though, it still feels like she rejected me.

True Beauty

My definition of beauty is as follows: Beauty is something experienced by all the senses; it is something to be shared with others; it is something you feel in the depths of your soul.

I grew up at the beach in Corpus Christi, Texas. From the age of 9 to when I moved to Dallas to attend SMU, I spent countless hours at the beach. We watched newborn sea turtles make their way to the water, I ran cross country races on the beach, we celebrated birthdays (my mom's 40th!) at the beach, and spent countless lazy afternoons doing nothing but collecting shells, building sand castles and playing in the water. (We also might have kicked a few jellyfish and fed Cheetos to sea gulls.) It was free entertainment when money was tight (which was always) and a place to take family when they came to visit. As I grew older, the beach became my refuge, a place I would go late at night to ponder my place in the world. I'd drive out, sometimes after midnight, with Caesar, our Doberman, and just sit in the car and watch the waves. Everything about the beach made me feel at home and at peace with myself. I loved feeling the sand between  my toes, the wind in my hair and against my face, the smell of the saltwater and grass-covered dunes; it all spoke to me at a level beyond comprehension. I didn't realize how much I loved the beach until I moved to Dallas and was forced to live w/o it. White Rock Lake is great, but it's not the same.

In late August, I had a chance to return to my beloved beach. My father-in-law needed help closing up his vacation home in Port Isabel, Texas, so my husband and I packed up the girls and headed south --- as far south as you can go in Texas w/o hitting Mexico. I snapped the pictures our first day on the beach. They're of my father-in-law, husband and our two girls walking hand-in-hand down a stretch of sand on South Padre Island. It happened so fast. I had been sitting along the water's edge, sticking my toes in the sand, soaking up the precious rays and inhaling the salty air when I glanced over and saw them. My husband was walking down the beach with our then 8-month-old daughter on his shoulders while his father walked along next to him, holding hands with our 3-year-old daughter- who spent the entire weekend calling Papa Bill her "best friend". The scene took my breath away. I managed to snap a picture, but the real picture remains in my head as a moment in time that I'll cherish forever. It felt a lot like the scene in Field of Dreams when Ray's dad asks him whether this is heaven and Ray (played by Kevin Costner) looks around at his farm/baseball field, sees his family laughing on the porch of his farm house, and says "yes." To me, that moment on the beach represented heaven and was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen or experienced.

(This entry was prompted by the final assignment for a graduate class on beauty. This was the assignment: prepare a 5-minute presentation about something you find beautiful.)

For all nursing mammas

UPDATE: This blog post was featured on ChickTalkDallas on Monday, Dec. 13, 2010. Thanks, Joanna! Visit chicktalkdallas.com for real women, real discussion. 

WARNING: Stop reading if you don't want to know about nursing and/or nursing bras or if words like chrissake offend you. I talk about boobs, too.

I've debated back and forth about whether I should write about my measly bra selection because with everything going on in my friends lives and the greater world around us, it's a bit of a so what? But, as the saying goes, I've reached a breaking point. Surely, there are others like me. There have to be other moms in my situation, so here goes: I want a sexy, lacy, underwire nursing bra in a color OTHER than white or nude.

I am sick and tired of rotating between a white cotton bra and a nude cotton bra. They're comfortable, but surely someone out there has another color- any color. At this point, I'd settle for lime green or Pepto-Bismol pink. Anything different. I mean, seriously folks! Victoria's Secret can make my normal 34B's feel which are now 38C's feel like 34DDD's but they can't make a sexy nursing bra in something other than white or nude.

I have to give VS credit for making and selling them at all - many stores/companies - don't, but the selection needs at least one addition. I have a VS Gold Card, for chrissake, yet it has rarely been used in three years because I nursed my first child for 18 months and my second one is on month 11 as we speak. There was about a year in there where I stocked up on a few necessities, but bra shopping when you're pregnant and likely to change sizes multiple times over the next year isn't very practical or economical. And a girl can only spend so much on panties....so I've avoided VS like the plague and kept my pretty Gold Card tucked away in my dresser drawer, longing for the day when it'll resurface as my most-used store credit card.

I know some of you may say that there are other brands besides VS. This is very true. Playtex makes a nice nursing bra that I'm wearing right now. I have two of them - one in white, one in nude. I'd love a black one, but they don't seem to exist in my size. Other colors don't seem to exist either. I seem to recall that I had a Maidenform nursing bra that actually had lace on it when I was nursing my first child. That one died a long, long death - 18 months of 6-8 feedings a day will do that to a girl.

Which gets me back to my original point - what's up with plain jane nursing bras? Bra companies can make prepubescent girls feel like they have Madonna's cones strapped to their chest, but the very women who spawned those new customers can't even rate one new option in the color department?

Do you think I'm asking too much? I don't think so. All I'm really asking for is another color -- one more color. I'll even pay more. I won't sign over my first-born but I and I imagine many other long-term nursing moms would fork over a bit more cash for a few more colorful options.

It's true that all this would be moot if I stopped nursing. I could wear my normal bras and the rest of my wardrobe, for that matter, but that's not an option currently on the table. I'll stop nursing when I'm ready and that's not now, so don't go there.

And don't tell me that it can't be done, either. I know it can. After all, if VS can make women who don't need bras feel like supermodels, then surely they can dye a couple thousand nursing bras pink... or purple...or blue...or grey...or red... you get my point.

Feeding elephants

The Squid has always loved her dolls. From the moment she first laid eyes on her miniature Winnie-the-Pooh bear, she's been there to make sure that all her baby dolls and stuffed animals were well taken care of. She has cleaned up "stinky" diapers, "fed" them milk, juice and snacks when they were hungry, and put them to bed when they were tired and cranky.

Needless to say, it wasn't surprising when she grabbed her baby elephant and a bottle before joining the Monkey and I out on the porch Wednesday night. We were sitting out on the stoop, enjoying the cool weather and trying to catch a glimpse of the moon through the trees and clouds. The Squid plopped down right beside us and started giving her baby elephant a bottle of milk. I showed her how to tilt it upwards so her baby would get the "milk", then went back to playing with the Monkey - who was trying to pull the leaves off the nearby bush so she could eat them. I glanced back over at the Squid just in time to see her lift up the left side of her shirt and nestle the baby elephant up to her chest. - all without revealing her bare skin.

"She needs milk, mommy," she told me, reclining backwards just a bit to suggest that there was nothing remotely unusual about breastfeeding a baby elephant on the front porch. There's not, right??

"Oh," was about all I managed to say as I pursed my lips shut to keep from laughing. It was really, really cute.

After a few minutes, the Squid very discreetly pulled her shirt back down, cuddled her "baby" in her arms and went to put her down for a nap on the nearby table. "She's sleepy from the milk," she said, nudging her baby in the right sleeping position.

"Oh, is that right," I said. "That's because you're such a good mommy."

And she is.

One tired mamma

I've come up with a new word to describe feeling tired: parent. It's probably not very original. Just about every parent I know feels the same way. We're like walking zombies when our kids aren't around and only somewhat cognizant when they are around so we can somehow prevent them from running in front of a car, touching a hot stove, choking on a stale brownie. Those that aren't tired are just afraid to admit that their kids wear them out. I know mine do. It's in a good way, but mothering a 3-year-old and a 10-month-old is challenging in so many ways.

Take this as an example of a typical conversation with the Squid.
Squid; I'm hungry. I want a snack, mommy. (while opening the fridge)(Oh, and she's whining)
Me: Close the fridge, you're letting all the cold air out. What would you like? (Mistake #1. Never ask what they want - always offer 2-3 choices.)
Squid: Opening the fridge for a second time. I want an egg.
Me: Close the fridge. You can't have an egg. They haven't been cooked and mommy doesn't have time to cook one. How about a banana?
Squid: I don't want a nanna. I want an egg. Opens the fridge AGAIN and pulls an egg out of the container.
Me: Give me the egg and close the fridge. You can't have an egg. You can have a banana.
Squid; I don't want a nanna. (in whiny voice)
Me: If you want a snack, you're going to have a banana or a piece of cheese.
Squid: I want strawberries.
Me: We don't have any strawberries. (AHHHH. Ready to pull hair out). You can have a banana, a piece of cheese or nothing. Take your pick.
Squid: Can I have a nanna?
Me: Fine. That's all your getting until Dad gets home, though.

Keep in mind that this entire conversation took place while the Monkey sat on the kitchen floor, rather impatiently waiting for her own portion of whatever her big sister scored. And that's only one of at least half a dozen similar conversations that took place that day alone. With that in mind, hats off to parents - particularly those of multiples! I don't see how you handle more than one talking toddler at the same time. :-)

Traveling with kids

A few weeks ago, Mark and I loaded up the girls and one of our three dogs and headed to my family's ranch in the Hill Country to visit with relatives and clear as many cedar trees as humanly possible. It was a "vacation" but it was also a test, of sorts, to gauge whether or not we really want to drive to Santa Fe for the Christmas holidays.

This was the second time that we'd attempted a long-distance drive with a 3-year-old and 9-month-old and it was just as tiring. Unlike our last long-distance trip - to Port Isabel, Texas (about as far south as you can get without crossing into Mexico)- we only had 7 hours in the car, but we we did the drive in two days so we could pick up my dune buggy in Austin. The other reason was so we wouldn't have to drive the "roller-coaster" at night.

As my friends with kids can attest, traveling with kids is no trip to the zoo. Or maybe it is? As we were half-way home to Dallas and I had read every book in the truck, sung Row Row Row Your Boat until my lips were numb, and fed each girl enough snacks to feed the entire family, I suddenly understood why my parents drove through the night as often as possible. It was because my brother and I would sleep most of the way. They'd drive and drive and drive, occasionally stopping by the side of the road or at a rest stop to catch a couple hours sleep while we remained completely passed out in the playpen in the back of the van.

There's my parents' other secret weapon, which unfortunately - or fortunately, depending on your point of view - is a relic of the 80s. My parents traveled with a playpen in the back of our big white van. We also kept a flip-out couch back there, but only when we were going camping or on long car trips. Since car seats weren't yet required, my parents plopped my younger brother and I down in the playpen when it was time to go to sleep, and off to dreamland we went. I have a dim memory of waking up when we pulled into rest stops, but not much more.

Needless to say, I had all this running through my mind when my brother called to ask why we didn't spend more time at the Ranch and my mother asked why we didn't just travel at night. The answer is twofold: first, it's a long way to the ranch. The difference between his 6 hours and our 7 hours is much more than an hour of time. And second, children are required to be belted into car seats.

I don't know about you, but being belted into a seat - whether it's reclining or not - is far from my favorite way to sleep. And unlike when I was a kid, you can't just pop a few sleeping bags and a playpen in the back and hit the road. It's just not allowed. As fun and convenient as it must have been, it's probably better and definitely safer now that car seats are required.

Luckily for us, the two "test" runs were mostly successful and we've decided that we're still going to drive to Santa Fe this Christmas. It'll be about 10 hours - we hope - in who knows what type of weather (we're hoping for sunshine instead of snow and ice) but we'll stop as often as needed and take plenty of munchies. The girls will be 3 1/2 and 1 then, so hopefully, we'll all be able to run around at the rest stops!

Now the only thing left to do is find a 4WD vehicle to rent and get started on our Christmas shopping.

Kids say the darndest things edition

Since I became a mother, I've given up on the luxury of being able to go to the bathroom by myself. I'm sure it'll happen again someday, but for now I'm resigned to the fact that one of my children will always walk in when I'm otherwise indisposed.

What happened yesterday, though, really topped it off.

After running around town for nearly four hours, we finally made it home and I raced into the bathroom. I hadn't been in there for 60 seconds, when the Squid came tearing down the hall and into the bathroom yelling "Mommy, mommy. I need to potty."

I told her that it was good that she realized she needed to go to the bathroom, but that she needed to wait for me to finish. (Or heaven forbid, use the other bathroom.) I'd be done in a couple minutes and then she could have the potty to herself.

This did not go over as expected. She stood there staring at me for about 30 seconds and then said (and I quote), "Hurry up, mommy. You're wasting my time!"

I fought off the laughter (I can only imagine what I was keeping my 3-year-old from)... but Mark did not.

Unfortunately, he walked by at that exact moment and - you guessed it - literally doubled over w/ laughter, ruining any chance that the Squid won't repeat the phrase the next time she finds me on the potty when she needs to go.

I suppose I should be happy that she has good grammar, but geesh! Can't a mom get 60 seconds to use the bathroom?!?

I survived a vampire mauling

It's true. A deliriously adorable female vampire we call "the Monkey" recently mauled my breast. I won't reveal which one, but needless to say, I have the teeth marks and bruises to prove it. There was nothing vindictive about the attack -- 8-month-old's don't know about vindictiveness -- but it hurt like hell and that evening's meal came to a quick end as the baby was put to bed and I retreated to the bathroom for antiseptic and an assortment of bandages.

Most of my friends think I've been spending too much time absorbing all-things Twilight and TrueBlood, but my theory that we spawned a vampire isn't completely nuts. I will admit to spending too much time pondering this particular strain of thought, but stay with me for a minute and consider my points.

1/ She has teeth...lots and lots of sharp teeth. The Monkey has 8 teeth and she's only 8-months-old! I'm not kidding. Two are only partly through, but the 6 that have sprouted through are hard to miss. And they're SHARP! The Squid, in comparison, didn't get her first tooth until she was around 10-months-old and while it was sharp, she has nothing on her sister's teeth.

2/ She's fast. The monkey crawls like the wind and is trying so very hard to stand on her own, without any assistance from people, furniture. She can be across the house in the time it takes someone to open the blinds.

3/ She's beautiful. This actually goes w/o saying. Both my girls are beautiful- whether one or both have some vampire in them. (Not that I'm biased or anything)

4/ She comes from a long line of Unitarian Universalists. So this one may be stretching a bit (okay, a lot), but she's being raised as a Unitarian Universalist. Both her parents are UU's, as are her maternal and paternal grandmothers, and one of her maternal great-grandmothers. Unitarian Universalism traces its early days to Transylvania.... you get my drift. Crazy, but you can't argue facts.

I could go on, but those are the main points. Seems too striking to ignore, yet is bound to get me locked up if I tell too many people... Back to reading "Dead to the World" interspersed w/ as much of Schiller's "On the Aesthetic Education of Man" as I can stand.