6710 Grand

 I saw an interview transcript with Michelle Williams where she said something akin to 'you can't be great at both being a mom and a career woman'.  She said when you're at work you're thinking about your kids and when you're home with your kids you're thinking about all the work that's not being done.  Some people commented that she was just making a statement about priorities and a LOT of people agreed with her completely. The whole thing just made me really mad.  Really mad .  For 2 reasons. But I'll get to that.  Perhaps being an actress where your job takes you away from your family for months at a time and you have what I can only assume is a grueling schedule, followed by interviews and talk shows to promote the movies you're in, and then bouncing back into home life where you can then focus only on your kids is hard.  I wouldn't know.  I have no doubt that's hard.  I would never presume to understand the life of a Hollywood actre...

May-cember.  It’s becoming more recognized among parents of school-aged children.  The month of May is so crammed with activities that it resembles December—but with none of the fun of Christmas.  Performances, end of year parties, tournaments, concerts, graduation, graduation parties, dentist appointments, annual physicals, standardized tests, due dates, Mother’s Day, birthdays, Cinco de Mayo, Endangered Species Day, World Day for Cultural Diversity… the list seems endless.  There’s so much to do for the kids and their insane schedules, not to mention all that I’m doing for work—grant deadlines, promote summer camp, spring appeal, grant reports, meetings, annual reviews, contract negotiations—and home—renew pest control, renew lawn maintenance, plant flowers, tend to flower beds, mow the lawn, oil change on the mower, figure out why the composter isn’t working, clean the carpets, balance the checkbook, pay the taxes, renew the Costco membership, plan the graduation ...

It’s 4:33 and the sunrise alarm clock that is supposed to wake me up naturally is blaring orange light into my bedroom.  I have no idea how to turn it off because the 946 page instruction manual remains unread in my “to read” folder.  But it doesn’t matter.  Ike is crying and it’s time to get up anyway.  I pry myself out of bed, throw on my gym clothes and head downstairs.  The coffee pot is brewing.   I debate having a cup before my run but as I diaper my baby and snuggle him back to bed I know it’s not a smart choice.   One cup leads to seven and that means my morning run won’t happen.   And it MUST happen. Baby is back down for at least another hour so I head to the basement where my office and gym are waiting for me.   I’m immediately reminded of the things I meant to finish last night but didn’t and am momentarily tempted to tackle them now.   No.   You MUST run.   I open the windows in the gym and turn on two fans. ...

I love a good quotable movie.  We have so many as a family that regularly get quoted.  Even some that the girls have never seen but they've heard Nick or me say often enough become part of their regular cadre of phrases.  A perfect example is from the "best worst movie ever", The Room .  I have seen this movie only once and once is quite enough.  If you've seen it, you're familiar with the phrase "You're tearing me apart Lisa!".  If you haven't seen it, don't bother.  It's like The Rocky Horror Picture Show --just, why? Anyway, as children do, mine are constantly asking questions.  Most of them completely irrelevant to just about anything.  I get so tired of the questions.  We developed a way for me to say that I've had enough questions without them feeling like I was brushing their concerns aside.  After all, sometimes that questions were relevant.  I had simply run out of patience.  So, we agreed that when I'd had enou...

Am I a bad person?  I don't know.  Maybe I am.  I'll let you decide...not that it changes anything.  I have a musical family.  My dad (the coolest dad ever) is a drummer.  My little brother Andrew plays piano (and so do I, though not very well).  Little sister sings and plays the guitar.  Come to think of it, Andrew plays the guitar too.  Music was a big deal growing up.  Dad always had CD's on his birthday/Christmas/father's day list.  We would listen to various things (usually in the car because he insisted my mom wouldn't let him listen in the house) and he'd ask me why I couldn't play like "that".  My own kids have taken a liking to various things as well.  Ivy plays the violin and the piano.  Iris plays the piano, the cello and a snare drum.  They come by it honestly--Nick's family is musical too.  Because the girls both play a string instrument through school they have practice both before and duri...

It's 2:00 in the afternoon.  I've been up since 3:30.  It's a typical day.  Awake early, a short walk while the coffee brews then 40 minutes with one cup, Bible study and a review of my day.  It's going to be a long one today--afternoon meetings and after school activities so I won't be done until 7:00. It's been a chaotic couple of weeks and it's all catching up with me.  Hungry.  But I've eaten lunch.  What's in my bag?  Nothing...  This isn't good.  Pregnant, hungry and out of food.  Sounds like the name of a new reality show.  Ok, I have time to run out but it's too late for second lunch and too early for dinner.  What then? Coffee.  Of course.  But should I?  Hmm.  I open my cabinet.  It's full of k-cups.  But none of them are decaf and I really shouldn't have caffeine.  That means going out.  Starbucks isn't far.  But should I? I sit and think. What do I want? Ho...

I hate extracurricular after-school activities.  HATE them.  They're going to KILL me.  Why oh why do my children need to play multiple instruments and sports?  WHY is there such a thing as an after school art club?  I don't understand. It was not like this when I was a child.  Sure I did Girl Scouts (mostly for the camping), but we met right after school and the meetings were AT the school so I could just walk home (we did that back then).  I played softball for a couple of seasons--and walked--and practice was once per week with only ONE game a month.  I really wanted to do gymnastics so I went (walked!) to the YWCA on Saturdays.  I was driven to piano lessons but would have happily given those up if mom and dad were too busy. Not now--oh no.  Now, we must be driven to all things and none of them are right after school...which is probably better because if they were my kids wouldn't be able to do that anyway.  Now they're all ...

We've been watching old home movies--the girls call them the Ivy and Iris movies.  It's been fun seeing them when they were babies and thinking how we'll get to do all of this again.  We've found absolute treasures mixed in with the holiday and vacation memories. "Dad, do you want to play throw the catch?"--Ivy "Oh WAH TAH!" --Iris  Don't ask me what that means, but she used to say it all the time. An adorable exchange between Ivy and Nick about Great Grandma Olson's trip to Heaven. We look at them when they were 1 and 2 and 4 and think how it feels like yesterday that they did these cute things.  And yet still it seems like long ago... Just this morning, Iris saw my bottle of Tums (a.k.a. pregnant candy for those of you who know) and asked if I had "heart broken".  t was a moment for the camera certainly and reminded me that we really need to take more Ivy and Iris movies...and watch them much more often before these days...

In the summer of 2008, Ivy was not quite 2 and Iris was due in about four months.  My brother Andrew was graduating from the 8 th grade and I was headed to St. Louis to attend the ceremony.  Nick and I had just spend the weekend moving from one apartment in Phoenix to another.  His parents had driven in from San Diego to help.  After a very difficult night’s sleep, Ivy and I headed to the airport quite early in the morning.  So early, that I decided it was more practical to keep her in her pajamas and change her at the airport once we were through security.  I was always nervous flying with a purchased ticket, which we hadn’t done often since Nick left Southwest for Mesa. We made it in plenty of time and once through security, Ivy and I headed for the changing station.  She’d pooped!  Great!  A steady one poop per day kid, I was glad to have that out of the way early.  I cleaned her up and changed her clothes.  We were both in...

Yesterday Nick and I were talking about feeling guilty for not spending more time with our kids—particularly the fact that neither of us stay home and Ivy and Iris have gone to daycare more or less since infancy.  Nick and I both had brief stints at being a stay-at-home parent when Ivy was young and we both knew without a doubt that it wasn't the life for either of us.  I think he feels the guilt more than I do since he’s gone for days at a time and I’m home every night (more or less), but the girls have a hand in that as well.  They’re VERY good at giving him the puppy eyes and sulking around when he’d rather do something for himself or (GASP!) spend time with me than play with them.  I've had the occasional snide remark sent my way about how selfish I am for working or even how unfortunate I am for not being able to financially manage staying home with my kids.  I do my best not to engage or simply state that I am a better mom when I can go to work every ...

I wasn’t there, so I can’t say for certain that this is exactly what happened, but this is the way I remember my dad telling the story. I’m not sure how old my older brother, Jeremy was, maybe 3 or 4, maybe older. I really don’t know. But Dad was chopping garlic for something and Jerm asked for a piece. Dad insisted that he wouldn’t like it, but Jerm assured Dad that he really liked garlic. I can only assume that it’s pleasing aroma is what caused my brother’s mistake. Garlic smells great. Dad eventually gave in. I can picture my brother, chomping down on that piece of garlic, insisting that he liked it while displaying a horrified grimace. Oh, how I would have loved to be there. Last week I was making Sweet & Sour Tofu (yummy!) for dinner. As is our tradition, Ivy was sitting up on the counter while I chopped vegetables. First the carrot. She took a piece off the cutting board and ate it. Next the green peppers. That was tasty to her too. Next came the onion. Most ...

Ivy has a boyfriend. Eric is in her class at daycare. He’s got the cutest sleepy blue eyes and blonde hair. He’s usually already there when we arrive in the morning. I’m not sure how they got to be such good friends, but in her first few months at daycare, it wasn’t unusual for us to find Ivy and Eric together. When we arrived in the morning, Eric always greeted us with a smile and what I can only assume was an affectionate point. It was a sad day when Ivy left the infant room (and Eric) for the toddler room, but Eric soon followed and once again, they were the best of friends. This morning was a bit different. As I was un-strapping Ivy from her car seat, a car pulled in next to us. It was Eric. From his car he was calling out to us—“It’s I. B.” We all walked in together and as soon as Ivy and Eric were free of their mothers’ arms, they went straight for each other. They hugged and kissed as though they’d been apart from each other for weeks. Eric’s mom and I shared an “aw”...

Ivy has a toy Noah's Ark that Grandma and Grandpa Schleicher gave her for her birthday. It's a cute little plastic boat with three sets of animals, two each, and of course, Noah. Noah often finds himself in the midst of a storm by way of the dishwasher. Aparently, he belongs there. The animals, too, find themselves wet very often. I was taking a bath one day a few weeks ago, when suddenly, the bathroom door was opened and a zeebra decided to share my bath. He floated, so everything was OK. One can never tell what might find it's way into the ark. It has what I can only describe as a drawbridge at the base of the boat for storing the animals, and Noah has his pertch up on the deck. Ivy seems to be learning how to put different things into different holes. Certainly, animals find their way into the ark, but so do other toys--whatever fits into that hole. She's starting to put her toys back into their bin...and back out...and back in... Nick and I bought her a princess car...

A bit of squishy history: 1. When I was growing up, on my birthday some well-meaning aunt or uncle would ask "so, how does it feel to be eleven?" or whatever year was appropriate. I was always perplexed by this question. What does one say? How does it feel? My mother, in her wisdom, came up with the perfect response: "Squishy". A ridiculous question, does, indeed, deserve a ridiculous answer. It was perfect. 2. In the Midwest, after the rain, you may find your front sidewalk littered with worms. In the summer, they may fry if they don't retreat to the grass before the sun comes out. I remember rescuing many a worm in my younger days. In San Diego, earthworms are replaced by snails. I had never seen a snail until I moved to California. The morning dew is enough to bring them out. In my early morning trips to the gym, I'd often find myself faced with a walking path covered in snails. Though I'd do my best to avoid them, inevitably, I'd step on one. It...