A Day in the Life: Zen Reflections of the Non Zen

It's the Little Things

2011-08-28T14:38:00.000-07:00

Today I witnessed a rare event. I saw an elderly man walking with his empty grocery cart back to the store to put it away. It was a hot day and he was moving slowly. An airman came waking out of the store.. walked right up to the old man, spoke to him briefly, then took the cart from him and put it away. The old man sat and watched him, turned and walked back to his car, and had a ginormous smile on his face .
It is the little things that make a difference everyday after all.

Play time

2010-09-07T10:47:00.000-07:00

If you work from home, just skip this post all together. You are probably experiencing the same thing right now and will nod you head in vicious agreement and say a version of "Amen Sista" to your screen. For the rest of you, I am taking the time to tell you this: working from home is the procrastinators playground. And like a playground, it is open and luring during daylight hours. This is why I tend to write at night, but I am also mildly attached to sleeping, so I really should focus on getting my writing down in the day. I am on a deadline. I should be head bent working on a piece right now. And I was. Except, I got hungry. I got up to go grab a bite and saw the breakfast dishes needed washing. I took care of them quickly and noticed a smell coming from the garbage disposal. Pour some sanitizer down there and go into the living room and light the candle. Oh look! I meant to put away those socks under the table last night, lean to grab them and notice the dust bunnies under the sofa are breeding again. Go into the laundry room to throw the socks and get the broom and figure throw a load in while I am in there. Go back and sweep under the sofa and then back into the kitchen to prepare my food because by now I am near fainting of hunger. No possible way to write now. Bring my leftover dinner to the desk to multi task and write while eating and notice the wind chimes are outside blowing hard. Better move them before my neighbors complain. While out there, fix the table cloth on the patio table that is flapping in the wind. Come back in and take a bit of food and wander into the kitchen. How could I have forgotten my drink? Back to the desk to sit and ponder my words.
Start, delete, restart.
Stare out the window at the sunlit back yard. Wonder if I should make a planter box out of the kids old beds.. that is green to the core right? What a good mom I would be reusing wood for something family driven. Look up plans on the Internet. Wait.. didn't I have a book about that over here?
Hold on. Focus. Deadline.
Write.
In my blog.

Ladies and gents... the playground is open.
Have you seen my Zen?

Whoosh! goes childhood.

2010-08-23T18:45:00.000-07:00

I have had a surreal weekend. I was lucky enough to get the loft bed from my friend for Robbie's room. He had been wanting one and in my quest to make him feel like the "big kid" he is, I snatched up the bed. It is an Ikea bed. Ikea is great, but you need a degree in astro physics to put together anything from there. After SEVERAL false starts. restarts, tear apart and realignments, we got the bed up. Then we took down all his "little kid' posters and put up flags he wanted and new posters. He got flags from Mexico, Scotland, Sweden and Ireland plus some posters of bands he likes. We went to Staples and got desks for his room. Also, Kohl's had a sale for over sized floor pillows, and I got one. So we created a room for Robbie that is very" big kid." For lack of another term. Lost are all the small child things he once had. His dinosaurs are tucked away in the closet. The very one's he would line up in a line outside of his room for protection when he was scared. He moved all the toys into the loft area. He is a 4th grader now, he informs me when I drop them off at school. He won't let me walk him to his playground, and instead says good bye in front of the car and branches off from me and AJ and goes the opposite way.. the big kid playground way. My heart hurts. This is my little red head who followed me around. This is the little guy who sat for hours in the sand box, playing with his cars. This is the little one who would bring a chair up to the counter to watch me make him play dough. Now, he wears deodorant and has a loft bed. Where did the time go? And why did it go so fast?

However, this morning, before school there a moment. I was pouring my coffee and he put 2 waffles in the toaster, then went to do his hair.When they popped up, he was still gone so I went over and cut up the waffles in triangles and arranged them on his plate like I used to when he really was a little guy: in tee pee shapes and formation. Then I drizzled syrup around them like meandering rivers. Once upon a time, this used to make him so happy, so filled with excitement. He came out of the bathroom and looked at the plate and said "aww mama... you made tee pees and rivers for me! Thanks mama!" And threw his arms around me. And in that moment... my heart healed. Even if just for the moment. Then in a flash, he was the big kid again.

I think I am gonna go line up Robbie's dinosaurs in a line outside my room.

Hey! What's this weird thing on my car?

2010-03-24T22:44:00.000-07:00

I have road rage. I don't mean to, it just happens. Everyday. But I really shouldn't. It is an avoidable situation. I admit I am a fast (er) driver than most, but I don't think my driving skills are any different than others. Here is the main point in my driving that I find that many.. MANY.. others lack.

I use my mirrors.
I look in them often.

If I see, say, a LINE of people forming in back of me I say to myself 'Why Self.. it looks like these people might be going faster than you so perhaps you should move over to the less fast lane and let them pass!" I then use said mirrors and move aside. What I find so impossible to understand is why it seems such a foreign thing for other people to do the same thing. I can not tell you how many times I have been stuck behind a slow driver going (ack!) the speed limit in the fast lane of the freeway. Daydreaming about what to eat for dinner, talking on the phone, happily looking at the scenery, none should be done from the fast lane. If you feel the need to conserve gas, avoid tickets, .. whatever.. please do it in the slow lane. If I get a ticket on my way to the next gas station, that is my business. But sitting in the lane, scooting along at a snails pace, building a long line for miles behind you is just rude. And I can't help but wonder.... who are these people in real life? Do they ever notice situations around them? Do they go to the grocery, park in the middle of the aisle as they walk away to grab an item? Do they stand at the checkout of the store and text people while a line awaits behind them? Are these the same people who balance their checkbook in the kiss and go line at the kids school? Just where did these people learn manners?? Cuz lets face it.. that's what it boils down to. Being aware of others beside yourself. In my opinion, most problems can be solved this way. Plus it is very zen.

Mirrors: not just a shiny ornament anymore!!

Road Rage: a thing of the past if mirrors are used correctly.

Holy Hair Batman

2010-03-09T15:55:00.000-08:00

I have curly hair. Or wavy. Or straight. I have about $500 worth of product under and over my sink to make my hair be whatever I choose it to be that day.. all while looking natural. Of course, if I let my hair air dry from the shower on any given day, it would be curly. I hate it. I have to put extra goo on it to tame it. You know how you hear stories of old men sitting on a porch and they are able to tell the upcoming weather by how their knees hurt? That's me.. but with hair. I can spend an hour in my climate controled bathroom straightening it, making it shine and look silky, then walk outside to a humid day and it acts like a spring board. Insta curls.
Today, I went for some much needed girl time with.. well.. the girls. When we gathered in the local park to eat our lunches, we were basking in the sun. My hair was straightened and blowing softly in the wind, and in my mind, I am sure looking very modelisque and elegnat. However, the sun soon went to hide behind clouds and as the day grew darker with the swollen clouds, my hair inched its way up my head. Currently, even my bangs are in a wavy motion. It is ridiculous. Why do I fight it you ask? Because its not always curly! If the weather is warm, it is limp and drab. If the weather is wet or humid, its wicked curly. If it's a "normal" California day, it borders on wavy. It's enough to make your head hurt.. the constant watching of the weather to dictate how you will wear your hair. I envy the straight haired friends of mine with their glorious long constant straight hair, regardless of the shift in weather.
Oh look! It's must be calling for rain, my hair just switched to wicked curly. I'll be on the porch with the old men....

Look! There goes childhood whooshing by!

2010-03-03T17:26:00.000-08:00

Recently, Robbie came downstairs singing a merry little tune that I instantly recognized. I was astounded that he was singing an old song that I have heard countless times without paying attention to it, but he obviously had. It's an oldy but a goody, he came down the stairs singing an old Kenny Rogers song, Lucille. In it, there is a line that says..

"You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille, with 4 hungry children and a crop in the fields."

However, the red head came down singing a much better version...

"You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille, with 400 children and a crop in the fields" ... (snicker) The best part is when he looked at me sincerely and said "That's a lot of kids!". Precious!

It reminds me of the all the things they do that are innocent and pure, that are quickly changing. Austin used to have trouble with the sound "c" so he decided the replacement of "t" would suit him better. Years of saying "where's the blue tar? I want tandy please. I don't like take for my birthday." used to bring a smile to my face. Those days are gone now and all I hear is the latest slang coming out of their precious mouths. "My bad. That's sic. What up??" I miss the innocence and it saddens me it is robbed from them so quickly. They are in such a hurry to grow up! And that's OK for the most part. But days like today, well.. I miss my very little boys.

You really did pick a fine time to leave me Lucille....

The Army Way

2009-11-06T08:01:00.000-08:00

Hurry up and wait.
I spent yesterday waiting. Waiting to get information on a shooting. waiting to hear what happened. Waiting to see if the people who are my extended family were OK. Waiting, waiting, waiting, Hurry and wait. It's an old army saying.. and its true to every letter. I spent many a day standing around all day waiting on a mission to be accomplished before I could start mine. It's rather ironic how it follows you everywhere.
After all that waiting, I heard from my people. Some were hurt, all were OK and alive. Waiting stopped and relief stepped in. That actual full breath and actual full release of tension you didn't know you were carrying. You know that feeling, right?
Finally, I spoke to one of my injured friends and I asked matter of factly how they were. The response still makes me smile: "Everyday above ground is a good day."
I don't pretend to know much about any other branch life but Army. I was born into it from a long line ahead of me, and made the choice to continue it in my own life. When I say I bleed green, I am fairly certain I really do! I am proud of every person who joins the armed services, its a great gift they give to their Country, but I will admit, I play favorites with the Army. They are my kind of people. They are the people who are trained to be expert shots, who can pull apart and reassemble a weapon in quick time. Who can sleep on rocks, sleep on rumbling trucks, wear the same clothes for a week straight. They sit in foxholes, march in the dark of the night, bang down doors and train in the rain. And here is the best part: in all of that, in the misery and the dank, you can still hear laughter. Hearty, happy laughter. The spirit endures. Not looking at the reasons to be mad and annoyed, but finding happiness in the moment.
"Everyday above ground is a good day"
And that's the Army way.
Hooah.

hello sun

2009-04-21T17:51:00.000-07:00

I am a sun worshipper. This should not be a secret. I am very vocal about it. I can sit in the sun all day and it makes all the nerve ending of my body feel alive! I love the way it beats down on my back and makes me feel relaxed and calm. I consider myself a Californian, simply because I have spent the most formative years of my life here, however, my home is in Arizona. My roots are deep there. All my familia lives there and occasionally, when I cant remember what it is to take a deep cleansing breath, the desert is where I run to find who I am again. Arizona sun is a force all of its own. In the dead of summer, I jokingly call it the face of the sun, and its an accurate description. However, the sun there is plentiful. I think its why I am the sun worshipper I am. I am a desert girl at heart.

The favorite part of my sunny days is the dusk time frame. When the warm sun is heading towards the horizon and the rays beat shadows on everything it touches. In my opinion, there is no prettier time of day. I love the way the sun kisses a romantic look to peoples faces and hair. How the air starts to cool down here in my dock by the bay, how the shadows lazily stretch.

All the important parts of my life, have this exact time frame of the day as a memory. I recall my grandfather coming home from work with the sun on his back, a smile on his face because he was so happy to see me. I remember sitting under my grandmothers rose bushes, feet sunk into the mud as she went through her rows of rosebushes watering them. Playing with my cousins in the dirt, waiting on dinner... oh the cousin memories are precious. In my later years, I remember the way the Golden Gate looked as the sun hit it as I drove across it, making me fall in love with this place. Waves slapping on the rocks in Bodega Bay, the sun glistening off the water. Laughing in a car with my friends, sun visors down. In my adult life, long road marches home at this time of day. Gear filthy, boots covered in dirt, strides less lengthy than earlier in the day, body slightly limp, rifle lightly carried, but the glorious sun streaming on our bodies casting shadows, pointing the way home. Cowboys sitting on a fence line. Rushing to the hospital to give birth to my son with slanted streams of sun coming through the windows. Watching my kids play in the sandbox as young children while I read books on how to become a writer. All of these memories carry the one common denominator, the evening sun that I love to worship.

I guess you could say, I find my zen in the setting sun.

Life and its funny little changes

2009-03-16T21:00:00.000-07:00

14 years ago, on a day not unlike today.... I was diagnosed with a deadly disease. In that small moment, from one second to the next, my life was changed forever. I suddenly became a fighter. I suddenly became less innocent. I suddenly knew real fear.
One moment, I was living a life without a care in the world. Honking at a bad driver. Yelling at screaming kids. Mad at the lady taking too long to write her check. Then the three words.... " you need chemo" changed it all.
In that moment, I started to live. I saw colors I had never seen. Morning light exploded. Dusk crept into night hood in silent colors. Screaming children became musical chimes. Watching people live their life became a past time, something I could not do, but ached for. It was like standing still in a fast forward film, where everything flew by you, people living, happy, laughing, running, and you were standing. Cemented in. Screaming inside to let me live, too weak to open my mouth.
Tomorrow, someone can look at you and tell you that everything you are, every moment you have lived is no more. In that moment, you will have to stand and join me. You will have to stand and fight. Fight for all your lost dreams. Fight for all your hopes. Fight to live a normal life. You will want to shake the people who fail to see how waking each day is precious. You will want to scream so loud that your voice can not be heard. You will want your whisper of prayers to echo throughout the heavens. In that moment you will become like me.
Life and it's funny little changes. When I became the fighter that you see now, I learned to mantra to myself it will be OK. I learned to mantra my own belief. I learned real hope. I believed if I had to go, that I would leave people smiling and strong. And in that, found strength. Found me. I lost my hair, but I found a new person. I will live every day of my life like its my very last.
And I will beg every one to do the same. To hug the ones you love and tell them why you love them. To tell your person everyday how beautiful they are in case one day your voice can't be heard. To laugh as often and as freely as you can. To eat the things that make your smile. To feel the sun on your face and savor it. To drive with the windows down. To feel your hair whip about you. To wear the Mary Jane shoes to the market. To tattoo your body in things that make you happy. To sing regardless of your voice. To write your heart onto paper. To love as fiercely as you can. To hold tight to you. To get back up after you fall and try again. To not let something as simple as fear stop you. To run to your happiness and if you can't find it, run in the direction you think its in. Stop standing still. Death is still. Life is moving forward... no matter how painful it can be.

Life and its funny little changes taught me that. Today, in spite of that fateful news, I stand before you a Survivor. I am a proud, strong Survivor of Cancer. I won. But, I keep its lessons close to my heart, and can never go back. "Don't tell me that I'm dying...cuz I don't want to know" I hope you all learn from me now..... everyday is the first of the rest of your life.

If you have...then I beg you ... now...
Run wildly.

In the direction of your dreams.

This is for for my fellow fighters, the ones who stand with me, the ones who didn't make the fight, the families who silently stand beside and watch, the friends who shave their heads and hold the basins, and the ONE that gave up her fight for me to live. I live for you June.

I found it.....

2009-03-16T20:41:00.000-07:00

I miss my family. I miss how when I am lost and wandering, they circle me in their love and hold me tight. I miss the loud laughter of gatherings, cousins running in and out of the house. I miss arms wrapped around each other and 17 people sprawled out on a bed. I miss how they look at me and all they see is me, the little goofy girl in pigtails and buck teeth. I miss that feeling of pureness that comes with utter acceptance. I miss the love that lies in being called Mija.
I miss my sister. I miss the hysterical laughter that finds its way to us after a cry. I miss laying watching TV together. I miss the innocence of our time together. I miss how she looks at me and only sees the older sister, beautiful and smart. I miss how she understands my pain and my loss. I miss looking at her and seeing perfect ringlets and smiles. I miss her pureness, the whispers of secrets, the sharing of ideas and dreams. I miss her so much that I feel like I could fall apart on a daily basis.
Somedays are really harder to get started than others. Somedays, you can't hear you whisper to yourself to get up and start fresh. Somedays you need to scream it. Somedays the soft drip of the coffee maker can not rustle you up out of the sheets. Somedays, it takes and act of the almighty to get there. Luckily, I find the strength on those days, on those early mornings where I miss my sister more than my heart can hold. On those sleepless nights where I ache for those who are gone from my life. On those dusky days where my family seems light years away. I see a red head peek out and smile to me, holding my hand. I see a brown haired toothless grin rubbing my back as he hugs me tight. All the strength I once had, somehow, I put into my children. And they give it back to me when I need it the most. And in that moment... I found it.

Live well

2009-02-12T19:28:00.000-08:00

In life, you get dealt an even hand. You get bad experiences that kill a moment and damage your soul. They ruin your chances of ever looking at a situation the same, and you never get that innocence back. However, if you are very lucky, not long will pass before a good experience which will heal a said mistake occurs. Sadly, sometimes it takes years, decades even before something happens that will change it for the better.
Oh! But the wonder of it all when it happens. No matter the span in between. That awaking and knowing that you have turned a corner, you have made it through your personal hell. So many of us don't even realize there is a personal hell we are living because it has become so normal and routine... the going through the motions becomes a part of your life until you are blessed enough to run smack into the wall of reality.
Personally, I hate that feeling.
And I love that feeling.
Letting go is one of the hardest things. The crutch that sometimes you use to justify your actions. The pain you felt which in turn you use to keep you from feeling. Its easier to blame than to feel it, face it and move through it. But when you find it within yourself to move on through, its like coming out of a fog. Clear skies await. Beauty is in everything. Color drips from the world. And you can look yourself in the mirror and know that, indeed, you have walked your plank and survived.

So, for all the people out there who have found their way: whether by a new love, a new religion, a new life, a new hope, I say this: Live well, believe in you. Only you can make it a better day.

This is me, feeling the zen.

What change really means.....

2009-01-19T17:22:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow history will be made. Regardless of who you voted for, there is no denying it will be a sight to be seen. The biggest inauguration to date. History is in our hands. And no one seems to know it better than my youngest son. The fact that a 7 year old is so interested in the race and was so over joyed with the outcome is, all by itself, something worth mentioning. I admit there were times I would stare at him as he got excited overhearing Obama speak and visions of Alex from Family Ties would fill my head. (come on, you remember that don't you???) But in the next hand, I was proud that I have been able to hand down the sense of thinking outside ourselves to my children. We are a split house, canceling each other out in the polls, but I vote. And I make sure my kids see me doing it. I speak at the table about things I hear on the news, I chat on the phone and push my girlfriends to research the causes before voting.
I guess some of it has rubbed off.
But, I wasn't aware of it until a trip to the bookstore. I admit, I jumped on the Twilight bandwagon. After much complaints, I opened the book up and rushed through it one day. I was then very antsy to get the rest of the series and went out the next day to find it. This turned out to be harder than it sounds. All the bookstore were sold out and I ended up dragging AJ from place to place in search of the series. Finally, at the local Borders, I saw a display near the front of Twilight and went immediately to it and in search of the others. I stood there enveloped in vampire books and I saw out of the corner of my eye my youngest move to the table next to me and gasp in excitement (and as loud as possible)

"MOM! Look! Obama wrote a book!!!!!"
I stood there with my hand wrapped around a teen vampire book and was so proud. I did it right. I made a difference. I don't know how. I am sure it wasn't by that particular example. But I did it. It doesn't matter to me who he votes for, what political side he chooses, what matters to me is that he sees it as a part of normal life, that he is excited by it and he is making the choice now. And regardless of what anyone says, this Presidential election was a big part of that.... it changed history already. People sat up and payed attention. People were passionate again. People voted. I am glad I already got to see it in our future.... I somehow feel stronger. Because, really.. history is made today, and I was a part of it.

Little Pink Houses

2009-01-10T18:01:00.001-08:00

Every now and again you can catch a song on the radio from John Cougar Mellencamp and if you listen to it, it is always glorifying small town America. Somehow, these songs bring out an endearment and nostalgia for close knit communities and small town feelings. I hear them and I find that I myself have a soft spot for them. But the feeling generally passes. You see, like many other living in a big city life now, I am "from a small town". I didn't grow up there perse, but I did grow there. And I certainly didn't look back when I left there.

Small town America is just that.. small. But all the things that you find in a big city occur in small towns, just usually at a slower pace, and with more people watching closely. There is crime, even if it is simply robbing the quick stop for beer. There is traffic problems, even if it is at the school pick up area. Cruising, vandalism, their own version of gangs, it all happened. And, there is gossip.. usually rampant. I lived in a small town, worked in it. We bought a house there and had kids there. Life has a funny way of turning sometimes, and when it does, its not always welcomed to have people watching it. Naturally, in a small pond every fish is visible. And so, we ran from that small town and went on with our lives.. building something bigger and better and leaving behind all the memories that made up our small town America. We kept our house, rented it out to small town people who worked big time jobs and didn't look back.

Until last month.

6 years had passed since we left that house, and our renters finally had enough of the town too and cut rope. Needless to say, we had to head back to re-rent the house. Back to small town America. The disdain oozed out of us. But it was something we had to do, so we put our heads down and went.

Isn't it true that this is usually when something magical happens?
With a skeptical eye, I went in to my little town, ready to prejudge. Entering my home, a flood of memories and nostalgia came racing back and then I noticed how much work was needed in this house where my children were born. Walls needed repainting, sinks needed replacing. Yada, yada. And so, off to small town hardware store we went. And then it happened that the magic started.

As we drove threw town, people waved. People leaned against their fences and trucks talking with neighbors, chatting with friends. Kids rode bikes up to the 7-11 for slurpies and sat outside laughing and chewing gum. The walmart was filled with people laughing and talking as they shopped. And as we pulled up to our house, armed to the tee with renovating materials.. there was a knock on our door and there are people who were part of our lives before we left. People who I hadn't had much contact with. People who stayed behind while we forged our way out of that town. There they were, and standing tall and strong in our front entry way with a smile on their face and a ready hand. They replaced sinks. They helped with doors and mostly, they helped with healing the heart.

Small town America is more than a song. Those little pink houses have at last found their way back into my heart. They reminded me of who I am. I used to wave at my neighbors. And borrow sugar or ketchup in my pj's over the fence. Game night was a weekly thing. Beers in the garage were a must every Friday. Ready hands, open hearts and homes are a way of life. No one is alone in a small town, even when you want to be.

And so, once again, Winslow has given me something to think about. It gave me back a friend who remembers who I am even when I don't. It has given me focus to whats important in life. It replaced old memories with fresh and happy new ones. And, its given me pride. Pride in me. Pride in my family. Pride in my little pink houses.

HIstory repeats itself.. or did I say that already?

2008-08-18T20:15:00.000-07:00

So, I was sitting in the car and glancing back at my youngest son. I see out of the corner of my eye that he is sticking his hand into an empty cup and grabbing ice and sucking on it, then.. to my horror.. spitting it on my floor! In my car! How could confuse it with a stable floor for Pete's sake! So, in my best admonishing voice, I tell him to stop and how disgusting that is.. and yada, yada, yada.. (because you know that all he really heard anyhow) and then turn back in my seat feeling very proud of how I handled it.

Then, because I am a woman and mother, therefore, suspicious, I glance back again. And yes, you have it.. his hand was in the cup. I do the death stare at him and he promptly pulls it out again. I turn back around, glance back-- he is doing it again. I give him the REALLY HARD death stare, and he pulls his hand out. I turn away, then back... and.. HIS HAND IS IN THE CUP AGAIN! But, this time.. he has a smile on his face and his eyes are narrowed to let me know-- he is enjoying this! I whip around to face front and realize.. to my horror...I have seen this before.

I flash back to the early part of my life. Pre kids, pre adult life.. just me and my sister in the grocery store with my parents. I can see my little sister pushing the cart and my dad saying to her... " don't' move the cart-- I will be right back" and going around the corner to grab something. (OK.. obviously I am old and this was back in a world where you could go around the corner of the grocery store and not worry of pedophiles or mass murders lying in lurk) .. anyhow.. there is my little sister.. waiting on my dad to turn the corner and .. she moved the cart. Just a small bit, but she did. My dad comes back.. stares at the cart and says-- "I told you not to move it." He goes in search of something else.. and she then pushed the cart a bit more forward. He turns around and glares at her and she stands there innocently looking at beans or something. He turns away.. and this time , my little sister goes in a flat run to the end of the aisle with the cart. My dad blows a gasket.. saying.. "I told you not to move the cart!"

I remember this being hysterical at the time, I remember laughing until my sides hurt. Why am I not laughing now? Oh yeah-- because basically, I am my dad now. What I find so incredible is that really, my youngest child acts a great deal like my younger sister! It could be birth order, it could be that she was around so much when he was a baby, or it just could be that I am destined to repeat my dad's parental agonies if I don't learn to see the humor in it all.

And mind, you, it was funny seeing him try to slip his hand in there without my seeing it. And while I cant stand for the spitting part, I can learn to see the humor in history repeating itself and hope that it will continue to do so for them when they are older... because what is it that our parents always said?

Oh yeah..."Just wait to till you have your own kids..."

The power of zen

2008-05-07T10:54:00.001-07:00

Some of you wonder about my zen title. I earned this title the hard way. My sister dubbed me the zenmama when I was pregnant with my oldest and was sick to my stomach. She would rub my back and whisper.. you are a zen mama... and it has stuck. Still to this day when I feel sick.. I can hear her whisper, you are the zen mama.
My sister is truly the most zen person I know. While I have the nickname, if you know me at all --you know that as for me and my house-- we are not so zen. My sis however, is for reals zen. She meditates in a Korean Buddhist Zen Center.. and as of last night, I was informed that she is going to be a Zen Nun. All that I learn about harmony and peace, I learn from her. She is one with the earth and I am scattering across it.
The great thing is... being that its just the two of us.. we take great joy in giggling over ridiculous stuff. When she told me she is going to be a zen nun, I immediately said.. a Zen mama and a Zen nun.. and then we laughed and laughed. Then, she added... that while she is meditating in a Zen Center.. she is working .. in the Catholic church doing office work. I mean, you just gotta love that! (we are a Catholic family in case you are not aware of it)
And you wonder why I am a zen mama....
The thing is, of all she has taught me about her practice, there is not one thing I don't find beautiful. Strike that-- it seems there is some practice of drinking pickled water with rice bits floating in it.. and I find THAT not so beautiful... but everything else is simply amazing. Frankly, I think I do the name disservice... but it holds a sentimental meaning for me-- so I maintain it. But, truth be told.. I am not zen in any way, shape, or form. I am frantic and explosive in emotions and spirit. I know no strangers. I will talk to a tree if left alone long enough. Yet, I learn from my peaceful sister so may things that I pass on to the masses.. and in that.. we are a complete circle.
And that folks, is the power of Zen.....

What's for lunch?

2008-04-24T17:18:00.000-07:00

I recently got to go out to lunch with my friend. It was an exciting thing-- it was our first lunch together after all, and we were bringing our two boys along so we could chat while they chatted. We were going to out local eatery area-- so that we had plenty to chose from and every one could be happy.. and again.. this was exciting! (ok so if you are rolling your eyes at what I find exciting.. you are not a parent of the young) Anyhow.. on with my story.

So, we meet and we chat and we happily decide on Chinese. We giggle thru line, tell a couple jokes, discuss the variations of food to chose from, and then happily pay for our warm and steaming meal and go find a place to sit. We are sitting there, the 4 of us, happy and laughing over our various ideas of funny and all of a sudden, it came to a screeching halt.

My friend was staring at her meal. Her chicken on her fork is wrapped in a long hair. I mean WRAPPED. It went around it several times. As if that is bad enough, she then tells me that she found a smaller "fuzzy" piece earlier in the meal but convinced herself it was her own. This is disturbing. I looked up to see the woman behind the counter with her obviously not working hair net and wonder-- how often does this happen and we not know about it???

Those of you who know me personally know I can be a tad OCD. As I sat there and watched-- at least 10 people went thru the same line as us and bought food and went on their way to eat that food. There is a high chance that they would never know about the Rapunzel length hair that we had encountered in our lunch. Does this scare anyone besides me? How many meals have I eaten that moments before someone else was finding disgusting evidence of poor hygiene in. *insert green face here*

Needless to say, and much to my delight, my friend got back her money from the lunch-- and mine. So there is such a thing as a free lunch-- it just sometimes comes with foreign objects in it.

Really? Another baseball blog?

2008-04-02T20:11:00.000-07:00

Ok.. so I know it seems nuts that I keep writing about sports. I swear, my soul must have been hijacked. But yes, this is another blog on baseball.. but this time.. its on my utter disappointment.

My youngest is on a team that has a great bunch of parents. I am pretty lucky that both of the teams I currently sit on have a terrific group I can hob nob along side of. My youngest team however, has a severe lack of leadership when it comes to the head coach. He is young, so I will give him the benefit of the doubt.. but we are several games -- and more than several practices-- into the season and I am not seeing anything resembling leadership coming from him. I will concur that for the age group of 5 and 6 year old, this can be a trying sport to teach. However, I have video of this coach throwing the ball to himself during the games and ignoring the players.. leaving them to run and get out on a base because they still are not sure WHERE to run or WHEN!! It strikes me as odd that he would even be out there with them if there is such a obvious lack of enthusiasm. I heard from others that you get career points if you volunteer for things like coaching and it helps with promotion. Now, I wont knock anyone for trying to make rank-- in our game-- its what you do. Its all about the rank. BUT-- to do so at the expense of a bunch of kids is shameless. It has gotten bad enough that the parents have bounded together to "fire " him. Yes, we are trying to "fire" a volunteer. It's nothing I am proud about. I am usually so supportive of volunteers. But at this stage, its about my kid getting the skills he needs to play and finding enjoyment from it. I want Aj to go out to the diamond and understand what its all about. Where first is.. how to have a stance.. how to throw.. how to bat! Currently, we have become so frustrated that the dads (and some moms) have gotten out there to take over coaching. Really.. should it be to this point?

I know it seems a silly thing to rant about, but I paid money for him to join this league.. I expect some type of preparation for a game. I want my child to have pride and since Aj seriously has the natural gift to play... I want him to enjoy it!

Why is it so hard to find a coach who will help in that area?

No zen here! None!

Take me out.....

2008-03-24T19:16:00.000-07:00

Its that time of year again.. baseball is upon us. I love this time of year. First off, its the one sport I understand AND enjoy. I rest certain in the fact that it due to my dads love for the sport and then the gradual transition into boyfriends and eventually my husband loving the sport. It was always easy for me to sit and converse about it with various members of the Y chromosome. I remember as a young girl hearing my dad explain to me "foul balls, RBIs, bunting and stealing bases". I grew up knowing what the phrase Dodger Blue meant and hearing the game on radios when we were away from a TV. Yes, baseball reminds me of my youth so it holds a dear spot forever in my heart.
However, as I grow older and I have my own boys, I realize that while baseball holds a spot in my past.. it is very much a part of my present now. Both my boys are playing again this year. I am always slightly amazed at how well they can play sports, (this naturally comes from their father.) He, as well, can play any sport with ease and perfection. Both boys seem to be on that track. But even if they were the worst kids out there on the field, I would live to sit out there and watch my children play. I can sit in the warmth of the sun on the bleachers and watch as the balls get hit-- or missed-- and feel the undeniable joy that comes with feeling one's youth whilst watching the next generation. And how can you not get a smile on your face when you are first hand witness to the look of bliss on a child's face when they hit a ball or make it to a base? How can I help but appreciate and absorb the feeling of success and excitement that comes with rounding third and crossing home plate? Even pick up games, with kids laughing in the fields and hitting balls with their friends. Its a wonder to watch. its a wonder to feel.
I guess that's why this time of year is so great to me.. watching little league or major leagues -- its all the same.. it all is my proverbial fountain of youth. And I bask in it happily.
Take me out to a ball game...

Ever?

2008-01-18T22:16:00.000-08:00

Ever been so happy and you don't really know why?
It could be a million things...
the kids cleaning their rooms unasked,
getting a good parking spot,
getting work done ahead of schedule...
bills all paid and money left over,
your favorite movie is on TV,
anything
but whatever that "thing" is..
or all of them put together...
it makes you so happy..
so blissfully happy,
that you don't want the day to end,
that you don't want the moment to fade
that you don't want to remember what unhappiness is..
and you are just so very thankful for it.
That's me today--
that's me now
feeling the zen...

A ball of a time.

2008-01-18T19:02:00.000-08:00

My new workout consists entirely of the ball. I sit on the ball to do weights. I sit on the ball to do sit ups. I lay on the ball to do back sit ups-- I am pretty sure that's the technical name for it. I LAY on the ball in a plank like formation to do more weights. It is not a graceful act. Scratch that... my BFF does it and she looks graceful-- therefor, it is not a graceful act for me. I tend to be cussing quietly under my tongue.. with a look of annoyance on my face.. and that takes the grace right out of the picture. My question is this: when did a ball become not fun? I look at balls now and my stomach immediately remembers to hold itself in. One would think with a giant silver ball to sit on, a workout would be fun! One would be mistaken. My scary trainer has us doing it on the ball because it saves time and works out several areas all at once. While this can be seen as a good thing, currently sitting here typing is making my abs ache.
All because of a ball.

Another day...

2007-12-18T19:35:00.000-08:00

Today is Robert's birthday. Technically. For me, it is actually in the morning his day starts-- but he is halfway around the world from me right now and his morning sun is already bright in the sky. I sent him an email to wish him a happy day. I have no idea if I will be able to talk to him on this day. I did get the briefest of moments that I was able to IM with him, but it was cut very short by his Internet closing out. This could mean so many things.. but on this day I will only allow it to mean that there was a power surge and they lost Internet connection.
This is not the first time I have spent a birthday without Robert around. Life lessons assure me this wont be my last. However, this is the first time I have had to wonder what a birthday for my husband must be like when he has to wear an armored vest all day and watch where he steps as he carries a grenade launcher and rifle. I will never again complain about how heavy my purse is. This is the first time I cant call him a million times a day and sing to him in my best Marilyn voice and call him birthday boy.
And this is certainly the first time I have had to fear for his actual safety on his birthday. I guess like they say, there is a first time for everything.
And yet-- life goes on. I still have to wake up in the morning and feed the kids and shuttle them off to school. I still have to do the morning rush of activities and afternoon pick up chaos. I will still need to make dinner. And while he will certainly fill my thoughts throughout the day.. life still marches on. As he is so fond of saying-- its just another day.
Such is our life these days.
This is me.. clutching the Zen.

The weather ouside is frightful....

2007-11-30T16:30:00.000-08:00

but inside is so delightful...
b/c I have a fire going!
Shall I make some cocoa? Come sit awhile?
Hey-- girls? How do I get your links on my page? I am so not a smart blogger...
Sigh-- I miss you all....

Boooo!

2007-10-29T16:02:00.000-07:00

It's here.
Halloween is here! I love this holiday. Not only do you get to play dress up as an adult and not be looked at like you are crazy.. but it marks the start of the holiday season. Call me crazy, but I like the bustle of stores and people and music.. it is a whirl wind 3 months! And while, at the end, I am overcome with happiness that it is over, I really do enjoy it.
To add to all this, for the first year ever, my boys are up for being cool characters that arent on a tv show! This is exciting to me. After years of being Thomas or one super hero or an other.. this year they decided to be knights. I am doubly pleased with this because it makes my weekend trip to Vegas with the girls worth it. You see.. we stayed at Excalibur and I brought them home a set of knights and kingdoms from there. Yes, I agree.. it was a guilt present. HOWEVER.. they like playing with them so much that they chose to dress up like them for Halloween, making it somewhat educational. Hey, I will take it where I can get it.
I think I am going to go as Super Woman. Because what I do day to day fits me into her catagory. In fact, this is true for all moms. But for me, my cape randomly gets caught in the closed door. So I could use a reminder.. and a cool outfit serves as a great reminder. Plus, I can wear the cool bangle wrist bands.
So this year, I hope while I am out there with my cape flowing, and bangles flashing... I look across the street and see other moms and dads wearing their own capes, or their version of them. If we can all just start the season off remembering what it is to be youthful and fun and not afraid to dress up-- then there is hope it will be a good start to the holiday season.

Pass the Walker please..

2007-10-17T16:00:00.000-07:00

When did I get old? I must have missed the memo.

I went to the movies on Friday night with my BFF for Girls Night. We went to see the movie "We Own the Night." When we got up to the counter to pay, I forgot what we were there to see. (ok- perhaps this IS a sign I am getting old) So I said to the kid-- baby-- child-- whatever-- taking my money.. "One for the Marky Mark movie."
And he said.... "who?"

Blank Face.

I mean come on! How do you not know who Marky Mark is? Has the Funky Bunch been banished to the archives with Mighty Mouse and the Fonze? Marky Mark doesnt sing anymore (ok, thank the heavens for that) but he is still around.. he acts!!! Frequently, in fact. Fairly well, in fact. Scrumptious , in fact. (hee hee) So really, how do the kids not know his self proclaimed nick name??
Because I am a well rounded woman, I was able to enjoy a good laugh over the whole fiasco with my BFF, but it still makes me a little sad. It seems, Marky Mark is a name that is now only known to the "older crowd", and I am a part of that crowd it seems.
Sigh.
Pass the Walker, and long live the Funky Bunch.

Just a reminder...

2007-10-10T15:34:00.000-07:00

Mostly to myself... that I love my best friend on the planet. That I should not kill my best friend on the planet. That the fact that I have to use countless cups of caffine and toothpicks to keep my eyelids open is not really a good reason to fly cross country to smother said friend in my grumpiness.
You are a lucky man-- my best friend on the planet-- that you are waaay over there and not here.
And that I love you so very much.
But any more 4 am laughing phone calls -- and you may need to go into hiding.
Smag-- you kill me-- softly..
*manic tired laugh*

Phantom Vibrations?

2007-10-10T15:14:00.000-07:00

No, this is not an ode to Bay Area earthquakes. Nor is it a spooky tale just in time for Halloween.. well perhaps it is.
There is an actual phenomenon going on right now over this so called phantom vibrations. The story goes, if you are addicted to your phone or blackberry, that you may suffer from feeling the phantom vibrations when there is in fact, none. When you see people looking at their phone, feeling their phone, etc.. it could be perhaps due to this. They believe they are feeling something that isn't there-- and it is due to over use of technology.
I read the article and laughed. How absurd. And then I realized.. gulp-- um-- yeah-- that's me. Just this morning, I am ashamed to say. When working out after drop off, I tend to keep my phone tucked into my sports bra for lack of anywhere else to put it-- (don't laugh-- it works) and I was sure I missing a text or call. I kept feeling my phone to see if it was vibrating or not.. when it occurred to me that it looked like I was feeling myself up.
On base.
In front of other mommies.
And Daddies.
Some in uniform.
GROAN. (OK-- laugh now)
Also, I regularly feel my backside when I have my phone in my back pocket to see if it is vibrating or going off, or just plain there.. and so I am sure that gets equal amounts of looks. When did I become so embarrassing to myself???
Turns out-- I am part of the phenomenon!! I suffer from phantom vibrations! And-- to add to the pot-- I also appear that I have some weird form of torets syndrome but opt towards feeling myself up in various public areas rather than scream out profanity. Perhaps I should add that to my pot-- the shouting of various profanity -- might as well be rounded out after all. *eyeroll*
It is now of no surprise to me that my oldest doesn't want me to walk him into school anymore. Look for him on Dr Phil. Airing his woes of me on public TV. I will be the one sitting next to him, feeling myself up.

I am sick of Barry Bonds

2007-07-26T16:57:00.001-07:00

I wrote this blog a long time ago-- and I was seethign at the time, so there is some emotion to it. For whatever reason, I chose not to publish it then.. but my Twin has encouraged me to post it now, so I am. So, yes-- this is old as the hills.. but-- the feeling still remains.

I live in a City that is torn by him. He plays well; he is bringing the team success and notoriety. But it comes with a price. The on again off again debate of steroid use is constant, perhaps because I reside in the very City he boasts the name of on chest.

Right now, there are people.. grown men might I add, that have taken up residence behind the stadium in the water area. They are out there in goofy outfits and kayaks, canoes and dingy's.. all in the hopes of catching a home run ball from Bonds. And you know they are going to sell it on Ebay because really.. what are you going to do with a Barry Bonds ball. People cant actually compare it to having a ball from Babe Ruth or Joe DiMaggio can they? In a heart beat I would have one of those balls..proudly display it. Frankly, I would never even let my kids play with a ball that Barry used. He is a disgrace to the game as far as I am concerned. And not just because he is a pill popping power player.. mainly because he is a crappy role model. I don't really care what these athletes say-- you put on a uniform and you instantly become a role model. Kids look up to you. They aspire to be you. They go in the back yard and pretend they are you hitting a ball. So if they see you using steroids, it becomes cool.

To top this off, he is mean. I cant think of another word for it just yet-- but he is. I recently went to a Yankee/Giants game and we sat in his "turf". We were surrounded by kids all excited to be so close to him.. and there were foul balls being popped off constantly. The other players would pick the balls up and toss them into the stands.. wave at the kids, take time to simply look their way. Barry didn't. They stood at the rail screaming his name, begging for a glance and he kept facing forward, never once giving them the time of day. What kind of person does this? How can you look at the image of yourself in the mirror everyday and honestly think that you don't owe some of that to someone else's belief in you. Barry Bonds at one time feel in love with the game from watching other players. I am sure he once stood at a gate calling out his role models name.. and there is a huge chance that he was greeted with at least a look or wave. Why does he find it so difficult to give that back-- or even remember it!
I am ashamed of him for the sport. I am ashamed of him for our City. Barry Bonds, you leave me searching for the zen ....

This is for my cyber gals...

2007-07-06T15:22:00.000-07:00

My car rocks.
For future reference to all, my car is named Pepe.
Pepe Rocks.
I have the ability to save songs on my XM stations in Pepe.. so if a song comes on that I enjoy a great deal, I can save it. This makes me happy-- it reminds me of being in 7th grade and waiting by the radio for the DJ to stop talking so I can push record on my tape player. Except I shouldnt have to wait on the DJ with XM b/c I pay such a pretty sum to have it.. even though I do indeed have to wait-- but that's another blog.

Today I was driving in the car and I stumbled on to a terrific station. It played songs that had me smiling and singing along. The weather is HOT and it is perfect for singing along in. Life was grand.

I got to thinking how it has been awhile since I have blogged-- I have kept myself busy and out of the house. I havent even been able to read and catch up on my forums, blogs of my gals, or emails! I am behind! And then it happened:

I have to share it.. b/c it brings to my mind thoughts of my cyber gals-- and I miss you all so much. And I want you to know it. So-- this is for you.

Strumming my pain with his fingers.. Singing my life with his words ...

(sing it with me)

Killing me softly with his words...

Killing me softly, with his words...

Thats for you Twin, Mumps and Jen-- and all my other forum gals. I saved it to the number on e spot-- and it makes me think of you guys... and I want to laugh and call Jen each time I hear it. You gals rock-- just like Pepe.

The Essence of Girlness

2007-06-14T07:37:00.000-07:00

Those who know me best of all, know that I try very hard to be the rounded out woman. Killing spiders, fixing broken dishwashers or disposals, all things I attempt to do because I have a fierce can do pride attitude. However, in the end-- I am pure girl. I may tackle the broken toilet, but I will do so with my nails shaped and manicured and my hair up in a cute french twist. And I am OK with that. I am a girl to the core. I think it is one of God's funny ideas that he granted me with only boys, for it is the essence of girlness that I am blessed in. The rest I just make up as I go along.
In my journey's along the way.. I have come across so many people like me. We attempt to round out the soft sides of ourselves with the the woman that NOW created. We think it is a sign of weakness to ask for help from a male or perhaps we simply have to prove to ourselves that we CAN do it..(as I do) I always welcome these people into my life. They make me feel normal, at ease, and secure in myself.
However, I am blessed to have a few Queen of the Ladies in my life too. The ones that are more than able to do it, have the brains and the brawn to do it-- but prefer not.. so don't. Ahh- how I love these gals. They make me smile. They make me want to scoot into a rose petaled bath. They make me want soft skin and to pamper.
There is one Queenie in particular that has been on my mind this week. I will give her the artful and well thought out name for this blogs purpose of A from B. (oohh--but it is funny!) A from B left me one of her HYSTERICAL 10 minute messages on my voicemail (without a whisper of annoyance about me never answering my phone by the way-- fellow blog readers-- you know who you are..) and on it-- she drifted from the subject of her location to the recent celebrity gossip. I saved the message. I have listened to it everyday. It reminds me that SHE reminds me how fun being a girl is. I have known her for 10 years, and she has always left me these kind of funny messages. I can't walk past a a Cosmo magazine without fighting the urge to pick it up, turn to the quizzes and call her so we can can do them together, like old times. No one else quite understands that it does, in fact, take most of a Sunday afternoon to do your own nails. And I have to say-- I have yet to find anyone on the planet who understands the magnitude of eyebrow gel like her. All that said, please know she is not a foo foo Queen. She can certainly hold her own, I have seen it. But- A from B also basks easily in the essence of womanhood-- embraces it.. and reminds me it is fun along the way. I guess I need to remember that more often.
All of you reading this have at one point or another, given me the strength I need to go on when I can't find it. I could write about each one of you for days on end and it would not begin to cover how I feel about you. I chose this particular person to speak about today because I am seeing that I need the reminder that being a girly girl is GOOD! And I can't help but wonder, if I need the reminder.. perhaps someone else does too. Perhaps someone else needs to be reminded that yes-- a waxing is painful, but necessary. That getting your nails done is expensive, but the feeling you get after is worth it. That eyebrows do need tending to.. that lipstick is not the enemy. That shoes can make you smile. That sparkling body lotion is the coolest invention since sliced bread. Or maybe, it is just me who needs the reminder.. and that is equally as important.
Any way that makes you feel girly and good is what we should do for ourselves today-- to make us feel like we have that extra bounce in our step. It may not be adding lip gloss to your lips, or color to your nails.. it may be rubbing on some lotion you like, or using a new shampoo. Whatever it is, we should do it. Summer is upon us, and frankly-- we don't need a special reason-- we are the special reason.
So, I am going to go get a Cosmo, dap some glass on my lips, dip my feet into a pedicure, and call A from B to tell her thanks for the reminder. And there are quizzes to be done.

2007-06-05T08:23:00.000-07:00

You become suddenly aware of how much you are failing as a parent when upon passing a herd of cattle, your five year old happily screams out: "Look-- horses!"

It's funny how, no matter how hard you try to cover all the bases, something always gets left out. This job of parenting, it bewilders me. How is it possible that I drill into them the art of manners, kindness, understanding and patience; but along the way, it is painfully evident that I missed the whole chapter on farm animals. And how is it, of all the accomplishments and opportunities I have been blessed with, my brown haired clone of me in the back seat is the one thing that makes me able to scoff at them all and realize what is important.

The nice thing about having kids, is that you get a constant reoccurring chance to try again. So I failed at the introduction of animals to my kid, but I did manage to teach him math, writing and social skills. And after all, how often is going to have to use his knowledge of cattle in his life?? Naturally, this means he will be a diary farmer. But even so, he may not know they are cattle.. but he will know how to count them, write about them and how to interact with them! Look at me! I am an amazing parent! Please pass my crown!

Apparently, today's travels will include a trip to the library where we will be checking out numerous books on animals. *eyeroll*

This is me: searching for the zen.....

A little ditty about bleach...

2007-05-28T18:22:00.000-07:00

So I know I promised I would avoid the blow by blows on cleaning products, but it must be said that my laundry day today warrants being talked about. If for no other purpose than to make all feel relieved, nay-- scratch that-- over come, with joy that they do not live in my house.
Today is laundry day. It is one of the chores that I frequently try to avoid until my OCD kicks in. The sorting, the changing loads, folding, putting away.. all trivial bits that annoy me. However, of them all-- the one that takes the place in the prime spot for me is the actually washing of the Whites. I detest the Whites. I have actually, in desperate times, been known to simply run up to Target with my friend in tow (and laughing) to BUY more socks rather than actually placing a load of whites socks and such in the washer. (and to clarify.. I actually have done this for jeans as well-- which ranks in 2nd place of least favorite load to wash)
Anyhow-- back to the whites. So, today-- I was inspired to do them without a fuss. So, I got the water going and started to put them in to the wash, when suddenly, I felt a vibration JUST as I was letting them fall into the water. A sickening feeling overcame me-- was that my cell phone laying in the soapy abyss? I start panicking on this one.. I mean.. its my phone! I have all the numbers saved into it!! And while there is some discussion about how I don't ever answer my phone.. I still have the option to if I have it!! So I do the natural thing here.. I reached in and started pulling out the whites in a mad scramble to save the cell phone. I am tearing at these things, feeling deep into the basin for the metal of the phone. But the water keeps adding in and right about now seemed a good spot for the bleach to enter into the picture. So from this side is the bleach pouring out-- the other side, the water is still going full force and I am screaming words that my mother would blush at the thought of; all the while, yanking and pulling wet, thick, heavy items of soiled clothing. Here might be a good place to let you all know that I keep my laundry room in the garage... my car and the washer live happily in there together on most days. Today however, I had pulled in too close to the washer side with my car and so it made actually getting IN to the washer more difficult. Hence making my next decision seem sensible at the time. This is where I decided to grab the clothes in the washer and pull them OUT of the washer -- all in my quest to find my phone. So, I am pulling out my wet, bleach watered clothes and throwing them sopping wet on to the floor of the garage.. and still, cant find this tiny little phone... and I am looking. I am in tears with frustration. And NOW, the front of my pretty blue shirt and jeans are soaking wet-- and turning a brilliant shade of white.
I now have all the clothes out of the washer, still no phone.. and I am rifling thru the heap on the ground and my kids are staring at me like I am some sort of reality show reject.. and that is when.. I heard the soft sound of the ring tone of my cell-- INSIDE the house. I get up and look, and there is my pretty bright pink razor-- sitting dryly on the table.
And this is why I am just going to go to Target for the blasted socks next time.

The Grass is always greener..

2007-05-21T19:09:00.000-07:00

I have a lawn boy. It sort of just happened. Up until now-- my way of doing the lawn and keeping it trimmed was to NOT water it so it didn't grow. This proved to be nothing less than making my house look like it belonged in a land far far away-- in a vortex of its own-- one I like to call Winslow. (sorry C.)
So my lawn boy appeared. He is the husband of my shortest friend. He showed up one day with a hedge trimmer, and started doing the front walk. I had not even met him at this point. I walked out with my hands in my back pockets and made mumbling noises about how I had no idea who he was and why he was whacking my dry, dead weeds.. but I loved him. Lucky for me, he is blessed with a sense of humor.
He trimmed, and cut both lawns. Then he came back the week after, did the same thing.. AND pulled all the weeds out of every place a weed thought about growing on my property.. all while still in uniform. Yesterday.. after the ball game, (see future blog) I came home to a tall man standing in my back yard, moving the swing set around to mow back there.
Right about here, my catholic guilt kicked in. I mean, I am not invalid.. I CAN actually do my lawn-- I just despise it with all the passion I can muster. So, I walked out, looked up (because my lawn boy is, in fact, a 6'4" Texan) and said- - "now-- you know I appreciate this more than words can say-- but you don't have to do it.".
Without a blink of an eye.. he said-- "we take care of our own".
I felt like someone punched me in the gut. I felt like I wanted to lay down and cry right there on the pavement. I still get tears in my eyes.
We Take Care of Our Own.
I am in a special group-- the one that refuses to ask for help-- but needs it desperately. And I guess, without knowing it-- my group attracts a different group-- the ones who don't need asking. I had the king of the 'don't need asking' standing in my yard, cutting my grass happily. With a smile on his face. And it occurred to me, that is one of the perks of being a deployed spouse. You get to see people in their truest colors. You cant hide it. Here stood a man, who up until a few months ago, couldn't pick me out of a line up. And now, he is one of my most trusted friends. In that sentence, he opened up a world where I finally don't have to be afraid to ask for help. His wife sends me over dinner, and calls to make sure I am ok when she doesn't see me at morning drop off. I should add here, these people don't know Rob-- have barely seen pictures of him..aren't even in the same branch. But what matters to them is that, we take care of our own.

I think we are all put in situations where we think they may need help but are unsure just how to do it. We might think they will find it offensive, or simply they might not want it. I know I have. But from right this second, I am going to follow the lead of my lawn boy-- and just do it. Because in the end, taking care of our own isn't about being a military person, a co worker, a church parishioner. Our own is all of us here. Our own walks among us day in and day out. And knowing what I know now-- I can't go back. I only hope I helped open up a window that others can see through as well.
So now, under orders of my friend, I am off to water my lawn-- because if he is going to keep showing up to cut it, it's only right I make sure it is bright and green and desperately needs it.

Where has the time gone?

2007-05-17T14:06:00.000-07:00

Here we are-- in May. And while I am glad that the year is slipping away-- I still am a bit taken aback by the fact that it is MAY! Tomorrow my youngest child "graduates" from preschool. They do the whole performance, dance skit and ceremony thing. I know it is ridiculous, but I pay a lot of money for that preschool so I am happy to have a big bash at the end of it all. And while all the planning, the buying, the preparing is happening.. I still can't believe it..... he is going into kindergarten.
I am there. I did it.
All those times I laid down at night over stressed, over tired, over weight (lol) only to get back up in less than an hour to feed a hungry baby yet again.. it all paid off. All the food I gave up to breast feed two kids back to back. For the wonderful job I gave up so I could be at home to care for my kids in their infant stage b/c "we" wanted me to. It all is over. It paid off. Now, here I stand with two school age kids. It kinda blows my mind a bit.
(enter nostalgic music and glossy memories)
Well enough of that-- now those two school age kids I was misty eyed over are battling it out for the last go-gurt.
So ends the reminiscent moment.

The day the rude people came out..

2007-05-15T13:04:00.000-07:00

Tell me Rude People.. how do you all synchronize the day that you will all come out? Is there some special Bat Signal which shows itself only to those who wear the red badge of R on their chests? Do you have a special date set aside of every month where you all trollop through the world together.. reaping havoc? There has to be something.. it seems too coincidental that you all just decide TODAY is the day I want to piss off the world.
Today is that day here. Take for instance, the woman in the supermarket today-- who -- with two very good eyes -- saw me holding my hand out for my 5 year old son to grab hold of and assumed that in fact I had created the prefect area for her to push her way through. Never mind the 5 year old pushed to the side. What is more important is that you, dear woman, got to get to the rows and rows of shopping carts before I did. There was such a danger that I might take all of them to shop with, leaving you to walk around and hold your own items.
And then there is that man at my 6 year old's school, we can't leave him out. Although.. frankly, he is wicked rude everyday-- no special days set aside for him. He must be the grand poobah of rudeness. I bet if we asked him, he would show us his R badge. The Grand Poobah was in front of me driving into the parking lot. He passed a parking spot and decided he wanted it, so he put it in reverse.. and proceeded to floor it backwards PAST the parking spot and two others to pull into the one closest to me. Why? Grand Poobah, I suppose there was a reason for you to create a dangerous circumstance at an elementary school.. I am sure you were perfectly justified in starting a traffic jam that went on to annoy a huge scale of mothers. Those of us damned with manners just cant seem to see it. Could you enlighten us?
I suppose it is no far fetched surprise that today in the paper a list of the rudest cities came out. Ours hit number 10. ( I have been to number 2. I quickly ran home to my humble number 10 home. ) I wonder if people read it and in a surge to rise us higher on the list, came out in full force today-- trying desperately for a recount. Obviously, my sarcasm that drips in cynicism directly derives from this. So perhaps I am doing my part to push us up on the list.. but after encountering the many card carrying members today.. I don't think they are going to ask me into their secret club anytime soon. So, for now, I will keep my eyes focused upwards in search of a bat signal... and my sarcastic comments at the edge of my tongue.

In the Beginning...

2007-05-12T16:50:00.000-07:00

When I was first approached with the idea about starting a blog, I was fearful. (ok, really I was in a fit of hysterical laughter first-- THEN came fearful). Beyond fearful really.. I kept thinking-- what would I ever talk about? I kept thinking that all my posts would consist of what dish soap I used today-- the fresh apple one or the lavendar. And so I put it on the far back burner. But I kept thinking about it. I thought about it even more.. and the more I thought, the more I discovered that hidden beneath all the various layers of wife, mommy, daughter, sister, friend..I was a brilliant author yearning to escape. Ok.. so a bit much of overly dramatic there, but I have things to say darn it!! There are things happening in my day to days that are thought provoking, or plain funny and my children have little interest to hear about it, and my friends have little TIME to hear about it.. and thus, a blogger was born.
I vow to do my best to not include a blow by blow of my daily chores. Hang in there with me-- somewhere amongst all the words, I know we can find Zen.