the home office needs to get a little more dignified...

This has been a hard week for me to work from home. I'm distracted by the upcoming holidays and vacations and visitors, I'm restless without a race to be training for, and I'm exhausted from being too busy.

But I have plenty of work to do and am realizing that working from home requires a certain set of requirements. Namely, you need to have a good place to work.

My desk is in the basement, but because the basement is also the family room and the playroom, I find it hard to work there, even when the kids are at school. There isn't enough space to spread out and I know that despite my constant insistance to the kids that my desk is out of bounds for them, they still mess around in the drawers looking for scotch tape (what is it with kids and scotch tape?) and stealing pens.

So I moved upstairs, but with the view of the kitchen, I'm distracted by the dishes that need to be done. Or by the fact that the kids have allowed their backpacks to spew art, homework, and school assignments all over the table and living room. Or by the fact that it hasn't stopped raining for days and the darkness is becoming totally oppressive.

We have a little cottage in our backyard that we use for guests, but I'm thinking that the big project for the year is to turn it into an office that can also be used for a guestroom. I won't have the watercooler, but I also won't have the dishes.

Anybody have coping mechanisms for working from home?

In the meantime, check out our cute little gingerbread house made last night between dinner and homework. The kids took it very seriously, with Samuel proclaiming the annual raising of the house to be "one of his favorite parts of Chanuka-time." Hey, who says there aren't any Jewish gingerbread people? And hey, our house even has a mezuzah!

birds and bees, act 2, scene 1...

It seems we've moved on to the second kid as far as the birds and the bees discussions go, but this one isn't all that interested in the bees part.

The other day while she was taking a shower, she pulled the B&B question on me. And apparently, my kids like talking about difficult things when they can't see my face. Samuel always is more open while I'm driving, looking at the road, and he's in the back seat. And Tali has obviously found the shower to be her hot spot. So there I was, drying my hair, thinking about how we'd make it to brunch on time, and Tali wanted to know how babies were made, or more specifically, how babies weren't made.

Tali: Are you going to have anymore babies?
Me: Nope, I don't think so. Don't you think three kids is the perfect number for our family?
Tali: Well, how do you know you won't have any more babies?
Me: Well, um, hmmm... Daddy and I can decide that, though sometimes you never know.
Tali: Huh?
Me: I'm pretty sure there won't be anymore babies for us. You guys are exactly what we wanted.
Tali: Sure, but what do you do to not have babies? Do you take medicine that keeps the babies away?
Me: Yeah, it's like a medicine.
Tali: Oh... (She smiles) So if you're having babies, you're really not taking your medicine, right?
Me: Um, right. Mostly.
Tali (with her face lit up): Don't you think that's a lot to know about everyone you know? Wow, I get it now...

I'm seriously frightened to think about how much she gets at age five...

faith in books is not a bad thing to have...

Me: Oooh, Noemi! Look at the moon!
Naomi: Oooh, pretty! Mama, who made the moon?
Me: Um, (I pause trying to figure out the best and easiest answer for a two year old) I think that G-d made the moon.
Naomi: No, Erica made the moon.
Me: Erica? Who's Erica?
Naomi: Erica is the Liberry Teacher. She made the moon.
Me: Are you sure about that?
Naomi: Yeah, it's pretty...

facebook is my coworker...

Since I joined Facebook, I've had this nagging feeling about it that has been driving me a little batty. It's like that feeling when you know that you know someone, but don't know how. And last night, I realized what it was.

I was working late and found myself getting distracted and I was ready for that trip down the hall to the kitchen where you meet up with your coworkers to grab a cup of coffee or a soda and you chat for a few minutes about what you're up to, and then you head back to your desk, newly refreshed and ready to dig back in. I was ready for some watercooler time.

Since I've been working at home these days with only maybe a trip to the office once or twice a week, I'm finding that I am really missing the company of colleagues and coworkers. I've complained mightily about the waste of time "drive-by" meetings can be (though, of course they can be very constructive, too) and I've truly relished the fact that without social lunches or coffee runs, I can get so much more accomplished in a much shorter amount of time. And because my schedule is so crazy and I've got so much going on, working from home helps me get a little further in my quest for work/life balance.

But I miss my colleagues and coworkers. It's so great to get excited about a project and brainstorm together in person over coffee. In my last role, I had "production" sessions with one friend in particular where we'd make amazing progress in projects when we sat together and worked. Though I even miss the simple things, like hearing about everyone's weekend, and yes, talking about the last episode of Lost. I don't even watch Lost anymore.

With Facebook, I've got that back a little. I can take a few minutes, grab my coffee from my own kitchen, and check up on what everyone is doing, maybe write a comment or two, or share some photos from my weekend. It's not the same, and nothing should or can substitute for real human interaction. But it's something, and it helps with the sometimes overwhelming quiet of working alone.

Facebook is so interesting because it really hasn't reached it's potential yet. It's a cool social network, but there's a definite opportunity for it to morph into something that has more workplace potential. If I see an interesting status from one of my friends on FB that deserves more than a "Wow, sounds interesting..." type comment, there should be a way to start up a conversation. There is the chat, but that depends on getting two people available at the same time, something that is harder than it should be. But what if you could have a bulletin board conversation, totally basic technology, that took the commenting a little further than it is now. And then you could also have an option to not show it to the world?

I'm ready for my new coworker to gain a little more workplace experience...

mod boots made for walking and a little random dress-up...

wordless wednesday...

the problem with thanksgiving...

Tday+5 days = this fridge...

See that casserole dish? It holds what's left of 15lbs. of mashed potatoes. Basically, it's almost full. What? You think 15lbs. is overkill? Do you want to be the host that runs out of roasted garlic mashed potatoes on Thanksgiving? Right.

So far, we've grilled them up as potato pancakes and have eaten them pretty much everyday in some form or another.

See the white roasting dish covered with tinfoil? That's where Boaz lifted it up a bit to check out whether there were still sweet potatoes left in there. There are.

I hate the waste, but now it's time for my annual post tday cleaning out of the fridge. Next year I'll plan better. I'll still make too much, but I'm going to have enough tupperware on hand to send food home with everyone who comes over. ("Oh, hello Mr. Postman! Some mashed potatoes for you?")

And who put those tomatoes away with only four left in the package? Kids these days...

who ever thought that running would feel so good???

Sunday was the big run--the Seattle Half Marathon and though I was nervous about the incredible amounts of carbs I'd consumed on Turkey day (and the day after), and about the fact that I'd missed two training days that week, and the fact that I'd never yet run a centimeter over the 10 mile mark, we all raced swimmingly. Mitch, Kim, and I ran together for the whole race as we trained together these past months, but we ran into our good friend, Lani before, during, and after the run.

Truly, it was an exciting, though bizarre experience. I've never been much of an athlete, and the fact that I dropped out of sports after running the bases in little league the wrong way at age eight pretty much says it all. But this running stuff is addictive. The past year or so of training has been amazing. Not only does runnning allow you to eat more and feel happier (I've practically become canine in my total need to get out of the house and run circles around lakes), but you get to feel healthier, too. Plus, you get to wear cool runner clothes and the shoes... Well, you already know how I feel about the shoes. It all seems like a really good deal...

Also, the run itself was this weird two hour and eight minute escape from my life. Usually when we all run together, we talk and get into long discussions about life. But during this half, and maybe it was because we were running faster than usual (thank you, adrenaline), we didn't talk all that much. I mostly just thought about how incredibly cool it was to be running like this with all of these people, most of them strangers (but feeling a little less like strangers after running with them awhile) and feeling like a part of something bigger. I don't know what bigger, but something.

It was such an in the moment period... I didn't think about all the work I had to do for my Monday meeting, or piles of laundry, or the mount of dishes hanging out in my sink, or the fact that I had a bazillion phonecalls to return for about a gazillion different reasons. I just thought about running. And oddly, it was relaxing. Very, very relaxing.

And there were weird moments. At mile 11 when I thought that my feet might just crack themselves up into a million pieces, a woman behind me gasped "That wasn't Gu--I think that was first aid cream!" and though I felt bad for her, my feet miraculously felt better.

Toward the end of the race I heard my mom calling my name from the crowds and then I saw her with Paul, waving and yelling and she had tears in her eyes. And well, there's nothing like seeing your mom cry with pride to make you feel like you've done good. (Or that you've done something that only a mother could love, but I'm going with good.)

And at the end, as the three of us ran through the finish line holding hands, our families were there to greet us and it felt so good to have them there, cheering and congratulating. But mostly, it felt so good to finally have accomplished this goal.

And then we signed up for the RocknRoll Seattle Half Marathon, but that's a story to be continued...

a look at thanksgivings past--still so much to be thankful for...

wordless wednesday

cute posts will only get you so far...*

Yesterday when I came downstairs in the morning, I found Samuel on the couch with my iPhone and when I looked over his shoulder to see what he was doing, I saw that he'd gotten past my password ("I watched when you punched it in, Mom. Wasn't that sneaky?") and was reading my blog.

This scenario presented me with two situations that needed attention:

One. The fact that my eight year old son watched me punch in my password on a phone, figured it out, and then I didn't even notice is a little scary. Last night I had nightmares of his future as a hacker. This morning we talked about why it isn't okay to sneak up on people in order to obtain confidential information. I then changed my password in order to know where my phone is at all times. (Afterall, this is my third phone in three years...)

Two. My eight year old son knows how to type in the URL to this blog and regularly tunes in to read about his life and mine.

"You write about me a lot," he said when he looked up.

"Yeah, I do. How do you feel about that?"

"The funny things are funny, but I don't like when you write about things you think are cute," he said. "It's not nice."

"I get that," I told him. "From now on, I'll run it by you first, okay?"

He looked doubtful. "Okay, he said. But if I don't like it, you can't post it."

"Deal."

So there you have it. My kid is apparently too big to be written about in a cute way, even though he's still incredibly cute and funny and I'm ridiculously crazy about him.

What a crazy thing it is to have a kid who is old enough to desire privacy...

*This message has been approved by Samuel.

tali writes a poem...

Leave floating

Red, black, yellow, purple green

Falling in the air

Jump, crunch, crack, smack

-------------------------------

(The first word must be a typo, but I think it makes the tone of her first serious Kindergarten piece even stronger...)

conversation over breakfast...

Talia: I wish I had recess with Samuel...
Sam: We'll never have recess together, Tali. I'm too old for that.
Talia: What about when I'm in third grade like you?
Sam: Nope, that won't work, either. I won't be at your school anymore. I'll be in middle school.
Talia: Oh... (looks like she's about to cry)
Sam: But you could come to the Husky Stadium College with me when we grow up.
Talia: Really?
Sam: Yeah, and it'll be good because we won't have to fly home for holidays. We can just drive.
Me (interrupting): Hey you guys, I have a good idea. You could just live at home for college and then you'd already be here for holidays!
Sam: (looking at me as if I've lost my mind) You can't be serious, Mommy. That is just not what you do in college.

It was worth a try...

a two year old takes things literally...

Me: Naomi, where are you supposed to be drawing?

Naomi: On the table. See?

Study: BlackBerry has twice the failure rate of iPhone...

Guess I'm not the only one with this problem...
http://news.zdnet.com/2424-9595_22-247962.html

Apparently the iPhone's failure rate is most due to accidental falls as a result of a slippery form factor. Hmmm, that seems easily remedied, but it might make me think twice about using the Fitnio running app without an arm band. Sweaty hands can't be good for my accidental damage rate.

But have I mentioned how much I love that phone? I wonder if it's normal for me to race to grab it in the morning so that I can get it before Samuel starts in on his Star Wars light saber app.

forgotten backpack by front door--second time this month... sigh...

wordless wednesday...

lessons from the country bunny...

Last summer while browsing the sale books at Powell's Books on a family trip to Portland, I came across the children's book called Country Bunny and the Little Gold Shoes, by Dubose Heyward and illustrated by Marjorie Flack and Marjorie Hack (wow, what are the chances the book's two illustrators would have those names--is that for real?). The cover of the book has such a pretty illustration of a mother bunny flanked by her twenty-one children, that I slapped down my 1.99 (gotta love those remainder piles) without even opening up the book.

When I sat down to read it, I realized quickly that it was an Easter story and probably not one my kids, who don't celebrate Easter, or don't even have any sense of the Easter bunny or what eggs are, could relate to. However, Tali and Naomi especially liked the pretty descriptions of the colorful eggs and the homelife of the bunny family, and the whole story was so pretty and calming and charming that the book became our fave bedtime story. Also, it didn't hurt that despite it being quite a long tale (almost 50 pages), both girls usually drifted off before it ever ended, making it a very nice book to have on hand.

But after reading it for the umpteenth time, it started to seem incredibly clear to me that the story of the Country Bunny--the story of a bunny who gave up her lifelong dreams of becoming the Easter bunny because she needed to take care of her children--was the ultimate legend of the struggle of work/life balance. She was perfectly capable of becoming the Easter Bunny--she was quick and courageous and clever and good--but on top of having all of these bunnies to care for, she was also a female bunny and apparently Easter Bunnying was a buck's job and the Country Bunny took a lot of heat for even considering such a lofty goal. It seems amazing to me that this feminist story was written in 1939.

And here's the other thing... One of the reasons why the Old Grandfather Bunny considers Country Bunny to be so clever is that she teaches her bunnies to basically do everything around the house. They made dinner, did the dishes, created art for the home, learned dancing in order to entertain their bunny siblings while they did chores around the house and so on. Those little bunnies did everything. One of them even pulled the chair out for his mother when it was time for dinner. Country Bunny set herself up well.

The little bunnies did their jobs nicely and they did not complain. Personally, it seemed like a little much, but I chalked it up to the fact that if I had twenty one bunnies, I'd sure as hell need to teach them to be useful, too.

I can only imagine what that would look like in my house.

But the other day when we were with friends, I asked Samuel to watch Naomi while I paid a bill, and then I asked Tali to take her to the bathroom with her (I could see the door), a stranger standing nearby mentioned that I asked the older kids to take care of her a lot.

"Really?" I said. "I don't think it's so much. Plus, they like to do it."

"I just think it might be a bit much for their ages."

I didn't say anything, but thought about it awhile. And then decided that nope, it wasn't too much at all. Tali has started doing the dishes everyonce in awhile, and she loves to separate the dirty clothes into piles and load the wash machine, and I think it's not a bad idea (for many reasons) to foster her desire to help out and take on some household chores. And when Samuel spent three hours last Sunday raking up the leaves in our yard instead of playing with his Legos, he was rewarded with kudos and obvious relief on our part that we had one less job on our To-Do list.

When my workload started piling up this Fall, I worried about having to slack off on some things, like having clean clothes put away or boxes of Mac and Cheese for dinner more nights than anyone would like. But what I'm finding is that the kids really like taking on the responsibility. They are not only so much more capable than I'd ever imagined, but they actually like helping out. And I feel so much less harried when they're hanging out and helping.

Talk to me in a few years when we've hit tweens and teens and I'm sure the story might seem a bit different. But every once in a while a parental epiphany happens upon me and this one was incredibly welcomed. In a society that is so geared toward children, my family's days of serving the children is coming to an end as they grow up, and the glimpse of a future where we as a family work together for a common good is close at hand. Change is coming.

(Wow, maybe the Obama election is effecting all fronts of life...)

And of course it's not that I don't love being a mom and not moving too quickly up the rungs of my career ladder for awhile seems to be what I need to do at this point in my life. But it's starting to seem real to me that there will be a day in the near future where I don't have to pull out a diaper from my purse in order to find my cellphone. Of all role models I could choose, Country Bunny seems like one of the least likely. But truly for the first time ever, instead of being incredibly torn about moving on to a stage of life that doesn't involve babies, I'm very excited about my future, as well as my children's.

i drunk me some iphone kool-aid and now i'm in love...

There are so many things I could write about since I've been offline for a few days. I could fill you in on our second trip to the Great Wolf Lodge and how I'm a little nervous about what a professional watersliding mom I'm becoming.

Or, I could tell you about how Boaz was home when we got back from watersliding, and how incredibly delicious it is to be a two parent household once again.

Or, I could even tell you about my Korean Full-Body Scrub at the Olympus Spa this weekend after my 8-mile run and brag to you that after being massaged with what I think was sandpaper for 3/4 of an hour, my skin may now be even softer than Naomi's.

Or, I could even do some complaining about how my blasted Blackberry failed me yet again, and how AT&T cheerfully gave me the news that I was one month past the phone's warranty date, but I'll hold that for yet another day.


Because my friends, I am now the proud, proud owner of a iPhone 3G. How did I wait so incredibly long for this?

I'm pretty cheap and willing to wait for a deal, so I'd decided to wait until March when I could renew my phone contract and get a discount on the phone. But the charging function in my little Blackberry Pearl somehow broke and it left me with little choice. I did check out all of the cheaper alternatives and read more reviews than I needed to. And then I bought my new phone.

Let me tell you how many seconds it took me to set up my two email accounts: 30

It took 30 seconds, people! Apple definitely has intuitive user interface down to a science. And I'll bet you've been wondering where I've been. Well, I've been to the PC side and while I'm still a PC girl, I am definitely am converting in the way of mobile phones.

The apps... I'm speechless. I can use this phone for everything. The RunKeeper app tracks my runs with GPS so I don't need to buy Nike shoes just for the Nike+ system. The Facebook app keeps me up to date with my Facebook crack all day long. Urban Spoon recommends restaurants in my area and in case I ever get a babysitter, I'll be ready with dinner plans. And these I've just found during the thirty minutes I allowed myself to go all gaga over the phone before getting some work done.

I'm off to go synch all four of my online calendars... Is it even possible that one device could do everything? It seems too good to be true, but I'll let you know. For now, I just heart my iPhone.

3rd graders on a field trip to pike place market...

wordless wednesday

when good parenting goes bad...

For the past two year, I've made it a habit on Halloween to let the kids eat their trick or treat candy to their hearts delight and their bellies dismay for that one day only. I'd read that this is better on their teeth than letting them eat just a little bit a day for the rest of their lives (which is how long it would take to get through our, I mean their, loot).

And the way they look at me when I tell them to go ahead, have another Kit-Kat and after that, eat the Twix, just save me the Twizzlers... They look at me with such appreciation and adoration, it's almost worth nursing them through their bellyaches at night.

Then, the next day, when they begin asking for their candy again, I take them to a toy store where I "buy" their candy with a little toy of their choice, and that's that.

Except that's not that for me.

Today, while working from home on a project that I'm not totally immersed in yet, I visited the orange plastic jacko, which is snugly hidden away out of reach of smallish childrens, approximately seven times. Okay, exactly seven times. On the 6th visit, I tried to stop myself.

"Self," I said. "Just because you ran 10 miles yesterday doesn't mean you get to eat what you want for the rest of your life."

"It doesn't?"

"Nope. What's the point of running and working so hard to stay in shape if you keep visiting Jack?"

"Come on! Laffy Taffy doesn't have any fat in it!"

"It doesn't if you only have one piece..."

"Oh, Self... Don't be such a party pooper," I said, snatching the banana flavored Laffy Taffy, as well as a Twix bar and a cute little red box of Hot Tamales, my personal fave.

And now, well, I am one sick mama with a big bellyache. Wonder if I could get anyone to buy me out of my candy with a new pair of shoes...

Or maybe I could just pull it together, think about bad dentist bills, and then throw it all away.

Or maybe I could just have one more little box of Hot Tamales...

the single (parenting) life...

Boaz has been out of town since last Tuesday (can you believe that guy missed the greatest election day we've experienced in our lifetime?) and I've been living the single life since he's been gone.

The single parent life, that is.

Basically, it has left me with little time to do anything remotely leisurely, like blog, work, or shower (I apologize in advance to any of you who must interact with me in person). And pretty much the planets have just not been aligned in my favor because everyday brings on a new "adventure."

Thursday: Stop by the grocery store on the way home from an appointment, lock car with remote clicker key thingy, trip over the curb and drop keys in a huge puddle. Since said remote clicker key thingy is electronic, it shorts so remote doesn't work. I test anyway, then use the actual metal key in the door to make sure everything is okay, since I'm totally OCD and wouldn't be able to relax with my grocery shopping not knowing that I could get back into the car.

Doesn't work.

Call the Volvo place and they tell me that the very delicate laser cut key must have chipped when it fell and since I can't get back into the car, and since the spare set of keys are in B's pocket in China, I must have it towed to the dealership where they will make me a very expensive new set of keys.

Huh? But I wait in the pouring rain for about three and a half hours, two different crabby tow truck drivers who must try out the defunct keys themselves and finally the second one breaks into the car with some tricked out hanger. The key works in the ignition, and when I drive it to the dealership, they look at the keys, clean them off, put in a new battery and sticks it in the door where it works perfectly... And it's only FIVE HOURS LATER.

Friday: Five minutes before we're supposed to leave to go to a friend's house for Shabbat, I step on a shard of glass in my bedroom (who knows where it came from), start bleeding profusely, it breaks off in my foot as I try to pull it out, and because I can't get it out with the tweezers, the kids are climbing all over me, and we're supposed to be somewhere, I slap a bandaid on it and hope it doesn't bleed on my friend's rug. The evening is so fun, though, and the food, wine, and company is so good that I forget about it.

Saturday: Kids are so tired from late night that Tali's sassy talk is out of control and when I tell her she doesn't get a playdate because of her behavior, Naomi comes up to me and says, "Tali hates you." Sigh... Parenthood... However the day is saved when our babysitter comes that evening and Kim, Julie, and I meet up at Olympus Spa for pedis, korean food, and these amazingly cool sweat rooms. More on that later...

Sunday: Make it through my 10 mile run with my glass foot all bandaged up, but the second I get out of my three minute shower, I see my stairs decorated by Naomi, who looks very, very proud:
There are four stairs covered with big blue felt tip marker (not the washable kind).

The kids and I run around the house for the next few hours trying to figure out what we can do to clean it. The big brown blotch is oven cleaner because in a moment of panic when nothing else worked, I sprayed that on it. Not so good.

Finally, after buying about five different products and spending much time on hands and knees scrubbing, SOS pads came to the rescue. And sand paper, which left light patches all over the newly refinished stairs. Oh well, dirt will darken them soon enough.

The calm parts of my weekend looked like this:

The couscous is still on the ground as I type because I haven't quite been able to deal yet with its large and expansive coverage of the kitchen. However, I did get that glass out of my foot late last night after more soaking, and I'm taking that as a sign that this week will be much easier.

still kvelling...

I've been walking around happy and satisfied since the results came out. I know that everyone and their mother is talking about how great Obama's win is for our country and despite the fact that tacking on to the subject isn't original, for once I am sure originality isn't necessary.

This video depicts exactly why I am so proud of our country for electing such an intelligent and articulate person to lead us. The story goes on a bit long (where is our good man's editor?), but it shows his dedication to honoring a promise, no matter how big or small, his ability to truly listen to new perspectives and his genuine understanding that everyone's voice is deserving of respect.


And as a proud new aunt, I have to take the opportunity to show off my newest nephew, Amos, who was born on election day. He has to have the best karma ever to be born on the day that Obama was elected president... This kid is totally going places. And also, he's amazingly cute. (His parents aren't too bad, either!)

oh yes, yes we did...

wordless wednesday

what are you waiting for??? vote already!!!

I've been holding off on expressing my extreme anxiety and excitement for this day, but having finally, finally gotten here, I'm ready to barack my vote. I'm planning to take the big kids with me to my polling station before I drop them off at school because they've been so involved in this race and at least for Samuel, it'll be really the first election he'll probably remember.

But before we do that, they have a message for you...

Go on, get voting!

decision '08 in real time...

we have entered the sticking things up your nose phase...

Naomi has officially entered the sticking-things-up-her-nose phase (toddler style y'all, not britney or amy winehouse style, of course). I know this is a phase because having been through it before with her older sister, I wasn't completely caught off guard when I heard her giggling from the backseat as we drove home from the Children's Museum.

"What's going on back there?" I asked her, trying to get a glimpse from the rearview mirror.

"Tortilla thinks I'm funny," Naomi answered back. Tortilla is the name of her babydoll that has begun accompanying us everywhere.

"She does? What are you doing that is so funny?" I asked.

"I'm showing her how to put things in my nose." Naomi answered giggling. And sure enough, when I looked back, I saw half of one of the yogurt covered raisins she was eating sticking out of her nose.

"Oh, Noemi!" I squealed. "You need to take that out!" Of course, this only made her laugh harder and stick it further in. The next time I peeked in the mirror, you could only see the tip.

Damn. Did something up a nose count as a good reason for the ER? I hate that feeling of impending ERdom... "Naomi," I said quietly, "Don't touch the raisin, okay?"

More laughing.

I pulled off the freeway and when I got to her, she wasn't really laughing anymore.

"It's stuck," she said.

I squeezed it out from the top like toothpaste and it slid right out. But since my poor girl was sneezing up yogurt residue for the rest of the day, I know it'll be a long time before that girl eats yogurt covered raisins again.

What comes after the sticking things up the nose phase? I'm trying to get prepared.

just a phase... scary...

Today I dropped Tali off at school and for the third day in a row, I left her crying, clinging to my leg and with the most tortured and miserable expression her face--a look that might seem reasonable if I'd just said, "Bye bye, Baby! I left you a plate of soggy brussel sprouts for lunch and have fun cleaning up your brother's legos all day long!" but not for leaving her with the world's yummiest Kindergarten teacher ever--Morah Mary Grace.

Outside the classroom, after Morah Mary Grace intercepted, gently closed the door and made the international hand signal for please get the hell out of here fast, the other parents were standing around talking about their kids. Of course.

"She's just going through something," my friend says. We could still hear Tali's wails from inside the classroom. "She'll be okay in a sec."
"It could be the change of seasons," someone else says.
"Or the fact that it's the end of the week," someone says.
"Or that she's the middle child."
"Kindergartners are always like this," says a parent with an older child. "They don't know if they're big or little anymore."

Maybe her planets are no longer in alignment?
Or maybe it's another phase...

Except, if they're always in one phase or another, does that even make any part of it a phase at all?

Last year, in preschool, T went through this phase where she didn't want to go to school, hated being away from me, and cried miserably when I dropped her off. Sounds just like now, except that I know she likes school.

I listened on as the parents continued talking about stuff their kids were going through--you know, phase stuff. Apparently, these kids never stop with their phases. They're in a phase, going through a phase, just getting out of a phase...

It's beginning to sound like an excuse to explain the unexplainable. In the meantime, though, I'm hoping that Tali's dropoff troubles are short term and that they'll fall away once she's used to the colder weather, darker mornings, and unaligned planets, and that she gets through quickly whatever she's going through now.

And let's please hope that she doesn't blame me for the rest of her life for being a middle child...

how facebook has turned my life into a serial novella...

The social app Facebook seriously brings out the worst in me. Since I joined Facebook, I've had a totally conflicted and bipolar relationship with the site, and I've been obsessed from the start.

Which is the result the developers were probably hoping for.

But the reasons I'm addicted to FB are similar to the reasons why I comb through the front photo section of People magazine while waiting in line at the supermarket. Or why I read those juicy Phillipa Gregory novels in one or two sittings, eschewing sleep or reason.

FB is incredibly entertaining. I used to rationalize that is was a useful networking tool and that my time spent on it would be somewhat valuable.

When I joined, I added everyone I knew and then wasted countless hours combing networks for not only people in my life who I wish I had more time to keep in touch with, but also those people I'd lost touch with over the years. It was so exciting to meet up with people I never expected to talk to again, like my first best friend from Huntington Beach who lived a few doors down from us, but then I moved away when we were eight and you know how those things go. And how great to catch up with friends from high school, college, or various other periods of my past who I'd completely lost over time. And then how completely odd to see their profile albums filled with kids and spouses and completely new lives. It's like finding a forgotten chapter to your favorite serial novel.

But then there were the odd events. At first when I got the email apology from a college boyfriend who'd dropped me like a hot potato for seemingly no reason, I felt totally redeemed. What a completely civilized world this was to receive an apology from a guy who'd hurt me more than fifteen years ago, and then could apologize rather articulately about it once he'd grown up. We became "friends" again.

Here is a relationship that in our modern world rarely exists, and probably would not naturally exist without a social network like Facebook. It's absolutely exciting to to be able to find anyone again so easily.

But what do I do with this? I'm a mother of three, married, barely balancing work and life and the purgatory that is my laundry pile. How the hell am I supposed to balance 203 friends on Facebook?

Now granted, FB gives me a chance to keep up with friends that I don't have time to see. I know when Kim needs a run, when Ben has shot too many Nerf arrows at his mom, and I get to see all the political musings of my friends in their status reports. I check all of these WAY TOO OFTEN. And with cool little mobile apps, I can post photos and my own status reports to my own profile whenever I want. In fact, there have been days when I've had FB in the back of my mind all day long. I find myself thinking about how I can turn funny things that happen throughout the day into FB status statements. I wonder who has updated their own profiles.

In fact, I'm wondering right now if anyone has posted any new photos...

I've been a proud abstainer of Twitter because with the blog, I feel like I spend too much time thinking about my status, but FB seriously has stepped in where Twitter has been pushed out. And I gave up Second Life (yeah, I really don't want to talk about how lame I am so hush up now) because it seriously sucked up hours of my life and spit them out into the ethers.

So now I have to figure out how to control Facebook, especially since it's got too tight a hold on me now to give up completely. I need to control my Facebook Addiction. My name is Amy and I'm addicted to Facebook.

Facebook has also introduced new social dilemmas into our life networks (one of which includes using the term "life networks"). For example, I found an old college friend through search during a massive procrastination session. There were a few people in the results with his exact name, but while looking through his friend list, I recognized a mutual friend so I added him as my friend.

A couple of days later, he accepted my friend request. Woohoo! But when I looked at his profile photo, I saw that he looked very different. He'd gained weight and his hair color had lightened and his eyes had gone blue. He was now single and living in another country. He had glasses now and his childrens' names had changed. Oh wait... Hmmm...

So what do I do now? How do I break up with this friend who really isn't my friend?

I even find myself following his status reports. He enjoyed his vacation, his kids are doing well, enjoying school. But um, I don't know this guy from Adam. Is it completely rude to delete his friend status? Will he be offended?

I foresee future studies and seminars about managing your Facebook accounts in the same way they exist for managing your Outlook boxes. Set aside a certain time of day, only allow yourself an allotted amount of time, schedule some Facebook time on your calendar, etc.

Not a bad idea... But I wonder what Dan and Becky are doing right now...

yes we carve... our barack o'lantern

wordless wednesday...

who would you invite to your election party?

Samuel and I were talking about who we'd invite over to watch the election results with us since Boaz is leaving for China on business that day (and it is really probably best for him not to follow every single announced result) and Sam came up with the following list.

1. His friend Max. Because he's his friend.
2. Anakin Skywalker. Because he's cool.
3. R2D2. Because he's cool, too, and wouldn't it be cool to have a droid at our house on election day?
4. Barak Obama.

"I think maybe Barak Obama might be a little busy on election day," I tell him. "I'm not sure he'd be able to make it. But why do you think he should come over?"

"Because he makes peace and that's a good thing to have around," he tells me. "Plus, I think he'll be in a good mood that night."

Let's just hope...

another day, another milestone... naomi gets a haircut!

Finally, at almost two and a half, Naomi has gotten her first haircut. I think I was scared to take the plunge and take a scissors to her curls because I was terrified they wouldn't come back. And everyone knows that the minute you cut your baby's hair, they no longer look so much like a baby anymore.

And she's my baby...

But things were getting bad. The girl REFUSES to keep barrettes or piggytails in her hair and is always frustrated with getting her hair in her eyes. (You would think that logic would work here, but apparently that comes later...) And then incredibly, after her haircut today, Naomi still has her curls! And she's got herself a lot of 'em.

Here's the before pic... Note that her pigtails that she kept in all day (of course) at preschool were just taken out.

Cute girl, lots of baby hair...

The difference with taking a two year old for their first haircut instead of a ten month old is that they actually WANT the haircut. I'd told her this morning that she was going to have one after school and when I went to pick her up a little early, her teacher knew that today was the big haircut day. (Um, is she my girl, or what?)

"Mama, I want 'parkleys," Naomi said when we sat her down in her yellow taxi cab chair. She'd witnessed enough haircuts to know that at the end, her big sister's hair was always sprayed with gold sparkles.

"That's not until the end," I told her.

"Mama, make sure I get 'parkleys."

At the end, she got her sparkles...

Her hair doesn't look really look any shorter, just neater (and sparklier, too). In the spirit of saving money, I wonder if I could've done that myself... But I got to take home a photo commemorating the first haircut, along with a little baggy of curls to seal the deal.

And I also had a very happy, sparkly girl who discovered a ginormous stuffed and apparently napping Elmo (talk about freaky) in the adjoining toy store. We seriously had to bribe her to get her to walk away from it.

a typical pre-bedtime hour phone conversation...

Me: Can you run in the morning? Tali... Stop drawing on your brother's shirt!

RunnerFriend: Yeah, let's go early. Will that work? Hey you guys, stop splashing!

Me: No!

RF: You can't go early?

Me: No, Tali, you're done with pens tonight. Yes, that's right.

RF: You can or can't go in the morning?

Me: I can go in the morning. How was your day?

RF: Great. Hey, what you guys doing? Get back in the tub!

Me: Are you talking to me? Naomi, put that pen down. Who left that pen out?

RF: Oh my gosh, what is that?! Hey, who pooped in the tub? Gotta go...

Me (running the tub): He what?!
----------------
Boaz: What's new with those guys?

Me: No idea...

moveon.org's newest video campaign is not so funny...

I suppose that the intent of MoveOn.Org's newest video blaming you individually for Obama's (hopefully) fictional loss by your nonvote is to be as scary as someone who believes their vote doesn't count. However, I found it totally disturbing and upsetting.

And it did get my attention...

Maybe the second time around I saw a little humour in it.

Boy, I'd hate to be that person who gets blamed for not Baracking the vote.



Send it to your friends and freak them out by personalizing it with their names... This should help get out the vote.

these boots were made for walking...

wordless wednesday...

left my heart in san francisco...

It's been less than 48 hours and already the girl trip to SF seems like a lifetime ago. It was amazing and went by so incredibly quickly. Partly it was because our schedule was jam packed with activities, both wedding and on our own agenda, but we basically squeezed every moment into our solo weekend.

The weekend started out on the right note when we bumped ourselves up to first class on Virgin America. It was my first first class flight (hey, it's a total waste to fly so spectacularly with all those kids!) and it was impressive. The airline has moodlighting and these cool monitors with movies, tv, games, and a chat program where you can chat with other passengers. Oh, and the free drinks, meals, and seat massages were also quite nice. Also, you can tell from the pic below that Kim especially loved the reading lights because they looked like karaoke microphones and you KNOW that she had to totally hold herself back from belting out some Fergie tunes.

The big bummer, though, was that my monitor didn't work and while I was content to read my Phillipa Gregory Victorian soap opera, it was disappointing to not use all their cool toys. Especially when I really, really, really love cool toys. Also, the airline did a spectacularly poor job of compensating me (a handful of drink tix for the way home, but only allowed to use one per flight (huh?). It's such shame when a perfectly good company totally slacks on customer service.

But I digress... Because the rest of the weekend was absolutely delish. SF is so incredibly cool and beautiful and the weather was lovely. We checked into the Warwick, which was tiny, but beautiful and quaint in that SF way and then checked out the Nike Women's Race booths at Union Square. Kim ran this a few years ago, but all the excitement and hubbub in the square made me sorry we weren't running it this year. But then I got over it when I remembered that we'd have to go to bed early and not hang out in the bars. Next year.

We probably should've skipped the bars, though, because that night we headed down to North Beach, which is where B and I used to live and hang out. I had such good times there, but apparently that is the place to hang out when you're 24, as we were, because when we were carded at the door of one place, I looked at the guy, who looked about twelve and said, "Really?" We were ready to be flattered.

"How old do you think we are?" Kim asked.

"Um," he thought for a minute. "Definitely not more than 34."

Hmmm, was it all that necessary to card us? Turns out that the guy was born in '85--old enough to be our kid if we'd gone the path of Bristol Pallin, and that everyone else in the bar was about his age. Except for the kid who brought his grandparents out that night.

---------------------------------------

The next day we got decked out for J&J's nuptials.

"Um, what are you wearing under your dress?" Kim asked as we were getting ready. "It's totally see-through."

And here's where travelling with your friend is a absolute bonus. Because I'd only brought one dress, she ran out as the stores were opening and went to two stores to pick up the perfect half-slip. A person couldn't wish for a better travelling companion! While she was gone, I grabbed some huge bagels with lox, capers, and carmelized onions to eat in the car on the way up to Santa Rosa for the wedding. We'll remember them always since they leaked onto Kim's purse and left it smelling rather fishy... Oops.

The wedding was lovely--the setting, the friends and family, the ceremony... It was so Jessica and Jackie, and their happiness just filled the celebration. Plus, it was so great FINALLY meeing Mr. Ezra.

But the greatest part of the weekend was seriously being in charge of our own schedules. For once. We ate when we wanted to, shopped when and where we wanted to (and often under the influence of a cocktail or two), and slept through the night ENTIRE night. We took care of ourselves and recharged by dining on sushi and sake, and the next day on massively huge Mission burritos (which were as good as anticipated).

Having never really indulged in a girl weekend before (seriously, what is wrong with me?!), I am now a true believer. There's not much better than spending time with a good friend with the same goals (recharge, relax, boots) and needs (sleep, eat, boots). And while it was wonderful to get home to our adorable passel of wiggly kids and hand out the surprises we'd brought them, I think our trip to SF is going to have to be an annual event. Josh and Boaz, you guys don't mind, right? Right?

And did I mention the boots?

taking off to san francisco...

This morning I'm getting on a plane to San Francisco to go to my friends' Jessica and Jackie's wedding. I will be bringing one carryon, my trashy novel that I can't put down (and also whose title I am not quite sure I can admit to), and my friend Kim, who so unselfishly volunteered to come with me when Boaz and I realized that it was really hard for the both of us to skip town and leave three kids behind for two nights.

I will not be bringing the kids, their things including boosters, the carseat, diapers and wipes, a pack and play, or my computer. Or Boaz, who I'm sad to not bring along since San Francisco is really where we met (at least if you ask him).

A girl's weekend is definitely in order. We've been scheming and plotting this trip for months and now I cannot believe that it's tomorrow. We've talked about the restaurants we'll go to, sights we'll see, drinks we'll have, shopping we'll do, and I'm especially excited about having some time to re-explore my old stomping grounds and see wonderful old friends.

But hearing my kids sound nervous about me leaving sets me a bit on edge. Samuel's been counting down this entire past week.
"This is the third to last night I'll say goodnight to you before you go to San Francisco," he told me earlier in the week as I was tucking him in.

"Two nights," I told him, "and one of those nights you're having a sleepover with a friend."

"But you won't be home," he said dramatically. "I wouldn't miss you if I knew you were home." I know it was all for my benefit--it was that "I will torture you because I love you" syndrome.

But now I feel nervous, too. Pathetically, this is really only the second time I've left all three of them (and in the loving, able hands of their father, but that fact really doesn't stop one's imagination from running amok). I'm sure they'll be fine, but it seriously is a bit physically painful to leave them.

I guess that's what motherhood is about... You can't even anticipate a decadent weekend with a girlfriend without being bogged down about what's going on at home.

That said, I'm sure that after the first five minutes in the airport where I'm not racing to my gate, holding a kid on my hip, lugging three bags and my boarding passes in hand, late because we left someone's shoe in the security tray and had to go back... I'm sure after not doing that, I'll be just fine.

And then I think a vodka and soda on the plane will help a bit, too. And also the shopping, and the museums, and the Mission burritos, and Italian food in North Beach and those fresh biscotti, and the music, and the hotel where I can sleep all night without waking up...

See you on Sunday!

sukkot meets wheel of fortune...

After two very cold and rainy days of Sukkot, and only being able to eat dinner in our Sukkah one and a half times, the kids are headed back to school tomorrow for what's left of the school week. And though Tali came home from school sick on Monday night, Samuel got it on Tuesday, and Naomi has continued with her runny nose and cough since October started, we've really enjoyed the holiday. Yesterday we decorated our sukkah with waterproof decorations because the kids decided they didn't want to work hard on art and then have it ruined in the rain, EVEN if that concept seems to go with the whole temporary nature of Sukkot.

But then we decided a la Seattle to make waterproof decorations... We hung fabric leaves from the roof rafters and walls and strung lights to brighten up the dark afternoons. And then decorated the table with the pumpkins we got from the pumpkin patch last Sunday, even though we never got around to carving out the harvest themes we'd designed for them in my Martha Stewart does Sukkot fantasies.

Still, it's very festive and fun inside, though despite the fact that we've been making sure our meals are very hot and warming, even the kids can barely stand to be out there for dinner too long, let alone sleep in it. But we look at it a lot through the rain from the window...

Maybe it's a good thing I took the sukkah camping with us this summer--the weather sure was better.

And today we got out of the house and went to the Science Museum, which is usually packed, but of course was empty today, save for a motley crew of a bunch of toddlers and their worn out parents (oh, that does include us).

The kids and their friends were thrilled to get to take part in a science game show about bipeds and for once, when Samuel raised his hand to volunteer, he was actually chosen. Though, I think the poor guy running the show was thinking that his pickings were slim considering the audience consisted of me and my kids, my friend Julie and her kids (exact same ages as my kids), a very spirited old guy in the corner who seemed to have some limited mental capacity, a two year old and his grandma, and a very old woman in a wheelchair.

The show was a quiz show and more entertaining because every two contestants were as oddly matched as possible.

Here is Samuel against Isaac. They're the most evenly matched even though Samuel is three years older. Note that Naomi climbed up on stage and as I was about to pull her down, Julie whispered to me, "Hey, what does it matter since nobody else is here?" So I let her stay.

Here is Shira celebrating her triumph over two year old Benjamin, who doesn't understand he is supposed to sit on his yellow stool. The Science Center guy is asking him to please not touch the spinner wheel.

Tali competed against Benjamin's grandma. It was a tough round, but luckily, the old guy in the corner was very spirited and shouted out the answers for both teams. Benjamin's grandma is thinking that maybe the answer to Science Guy's question is still up on the screen. It wasn't.

And then we got home just in time for it to start to rain again before dinner. No meal in the sukkah tonight. We'll try breakfast again tomorrow morning...

naomi wistfully watches tali's dance class from the lobby...

wordless wednesday...

7 miles high...

Today Kim and I went for our 7 mile run and while she's run a marathon, 7 miles is pretty much my record distance. But let me tell you, there is something so amazing about adding distance to our runs. I was terrified when we started out because...

a. It's been a a couple of days since our last run.
b. Have I mentioned that I've never run more than 6 miles before?
c. I still haven't started thinking of myself as a runner, though at this point, I've been running regularly for a year now.
c. I was going to try out my new "hydration belt" on this run and was nervous about the extra weight. For those of you not in the running know, a hydration belt is this incredibly geeky velcro thing you wrap around your waist (yes, like a belt) and it holds water bottles. It's fine when your bottles are full and heavy, but after you take a few sips, the water sloshes around while you run and the noise is totally annoying because oddly, it makes me have to pee. But the bottles do have this really cool shape that makes it easy to drink while running.
d. Halfway through our run, we were going to try out this energy stuff called Gu, that you suck down while running.

So I got past all the hurdles fairly gracefully, except the Gu one.
Kim handed me this little pack and told me to suck it down while we continued to run, and then to wash it down with some water. Still, while running. For someone not particularly graceful, this was hard enough.

But have you ever tasted Gu? It's as disgusting as it sounds. It is flavored Roctane gel--in this case, it was vanilla bean. Vanilla bean gel. And what the hell is Roctane, anyway?

And so as I squeezed that little tube into my mouth, I gagged and shouted and swallowed as quickly as I could. And apparently I had a few onlookers laughing at the sight of me shouting and retching because Kim couldn't stop laughing.

And, in memory of the taste, I even gagged while looking at the hero graphic on their website of those guys with their Gu packets hanging out of their mouths.

But that disgusting goo was amazing since it did give me the energy to make the run seem like something I could keep going with. Which is good, since somehow I have to add six more miles to my run by the end of November.

And if anyone has any other energy supplement suggestions that are a bit more palatable than Gu, I'd love to hear about them...

10 signs it's time to go back to work...

10. You're starting to read into the dark undertones of the "I'm a Little Teapot" song, especially when accompanied by the cute dance gestures.

9. You've organized and cleaned out all of the closets in the house. Twice.

8. You find yourself noticing sexual references (intentional or not, you decide) in episodes of Sesame Street and then giggle throughout the entire show.

7. Your friends have to remind you not to refer to the restroom as the "potty" or to say "bye-bye" instead of "goodbye" when you're out with adults.

6. You think that the time your two-year old said "Mama Say" instead of "Namaste" when you were "playing" yoga was so funny that you not only told everyone about it, but started whispering "Mama Say" to yourself at the end of your yoga class.

5. You have the same haircut as your five-year old.

4. You get excited about a trip to Toys R Us.

3. You've developed a taste for butter. On everything.

2. Potty talk is starting to seem pretty funny, instead of disgusting and juvenile.

1. Your toddler has begun to respond to what she believes is your constant nagging with "Relax, Mama..."

a good sign that my daughter needs a pet...

not so wordless wednesday...

a lesson in listening to the second kid...

Today Talia's class took their first Kindergarten field trip to the pumpkin patch to learn about Fall harvests. We'd gotten instructions last week to pack her a sack lunch and to make sure she wore rain boots and warm clothes because most likely the patch would be cold and muddy (it was).

So I dug out her boots that still fit from last year and handed her a brown paper sack and some markers and let her color all over it while I made lunches. This is something she's watched Samuel do a

number of times and in the past, it always made her feel a little jealous to see him working so hard on his field trip lunch sack.

Tali decorated her bag with her name in big letters, lots of flowers, and the big-eyed people she likes to draw. But when she was finished, she told me that she didn't want to go on the trip.

"Really?" I asked. "It sounds like fun. Plus you get to pick out your own little pumpkin," I told her.

"Yeah, but it'll be muddy. I don't want to go," she said. This seemed odd because Tali isn't the kind of girl who usually minds some mud, but I had three lunches to make, mountains of laundry to fold, baths to give, kids to put to bed, blah blah blah.

"You'll love it," I told her. "You'll have fun."

This morning, same thing. She didn't want to go, it'll be too muddy, it won't be fun, and she kept singing the same tune even after Samuel showed a significant amount of envy at the fact that she got to go on a field trip. I dropped her off in her classroom with her booster seat freshly marked with her name, and as I kissed her goodbye, I whispered to her, "It's going to be great. You'll have a great time."

"If you say so," she said with uncertainty. But she didn't cry or make a fuss, so I waved goodbye and left.

As I got into my car, a friend of mine whose son is in Tali's class waved to me and said "Wow, their first field trip. I don't know why I feel so nervous, but it feels big."

"They're fine," I reassured her. "They'll have fun." And what I was secretly thinking was "Come on... It's just a 20 minute drive to the pumpkin patch. Cut the cord, girlfriend!"

And then as I was driving out of the schoolyard I realized what was up--that this was her very, very first school field trip and of course she was nervous. She was a school kid on a school trip. With her school. Not her parents. Or even her daycare.

I felt like such a total tool. She was scared.

Even though she's known some of her friends for years and she's been around the school for years, as well, while picking up or dropping off Samuel, this was new to her. I didn't shed a single tear on her first day of Kindergarten because we'd been through the whole process just a few years ago with Samuel, but this morning after dropping her off, I sobbed all the way home as I thought about my girl feeling fearful and anxious, but not being able to or knowing how to talk about it. I felt guilty about overlooking some of her big moments because we've been there before with her brother. And I felt sad that I'd been too preoccupied with the minutiae of the day that I didn't stop to wonder why she was acting so strangely.

Of course, by the time I picked her up she was gushing about how much fun she'd had and she couldn't wait to show me her special green pumpkin (my girl is not one to follow popular conventions).

I feel like I got a pass this time for not noticing how quickly Tali is growing up. And while I will probably never be one of those moms who puts together a scrapbook for every life event (hell, I still haven't put together my wedding album), I am determined to slow down a little and listen a little more closely.

Oh, and the photos? Taken by one of the moms who obviously felt like the first school field trip was a big deal. I'm so grateful...

a story about my love for red shoes...

I will not write about her, I just won't do it. Everyone and their mother and their mother's mother is going to write about the debate and I want to write about my new running shoes.



So I won't write about how many times in an hour and a half she used the phrases "Darn right" or "Maverick" (but boy, I got chills when Biden chided her about how 'Maverick' wasn't quite the right word to use). I won't ask what a Joe Six Pack is, say that I feel truly squeamishly uncomfortable when she talks about Israel and middle east politics, or say that when it comes down to it, I really just don't think she's up to the job.



And um, did anyone else get all choked up when Biden talked about being a single parent?



Right. Red shoes. And even better, red running shoes.



So today, in all my frustration and anxiety over the impending vice presidential debate, I took an hour and ran to RoadRunner sports to buy some new running shoes and to register for the Seattle Marathon, because I'm going to run it this year.



Didn't that sound cool? I hope it did because I'm not sure my behavior in the store qualified as cool. Also, it should be known that I'm really running the Seattle HALF Marathon (though, hey, that is still 13 miles!), I've never run that far in my life, and I have serious doubts about whether or not I can actually do it. But I paid my registration fee so I have six hours in November to try.



So I went in knowing that I should buy the same Asics that I love and wear and when I got into the store, there they were in the same turquoise and silvery stripes I have at home.



I love shoes, but seriously, runners are so incredibly boring and if they didn't feel so heavenly on that first run when they're brand spanking new, and if they didn't feel so horrible when they're worn out, I would probably just ignore them altogether.



"Hey," I say to the salesguy, who is really young and goodlooking. "Do these come in any other colors?"



"You want a different color?" He asks. "Why?"



"I don't know," I say. "To make them interesting?"



"It makes no difference what color they are. This shoe would run the same no matter the color." He seems almost offended at my superficiality. "Why do you need another color? Do you look at them when you're running or something?"



"Sometimes," I say. And when I notice his odd look, I laugh a little and say, "Just kidding." But we both know that I am not.



So I buy the world's most boring and comfortable runner and walk out the door, and then decide to just take a look at the Title Nine store on the corner.



And do you know what they had? Of course you do...



My fave Asics, style 2130. In CHERRY RED. I seriously have a weakness for red shoes. Even red running shoes.



They were beautiful. And you know what Title Nine calls them? They call them Meg's Favorite Shoe because obviously someone else loves them, too. In red.



So I run back to the first store, meet the salesguy at the register, and tell him that I want to return my shoes.



"You just bought them," he says.



"I know," I tell him. And then I find that I just cannot tell him that I found a better color. I'm too embarrassed that he thinks I watch my feet while I run. "I just talked to my friend," I tell him instead. "She says she found a better deal somewhere else."



"Really?" he says suspiciously. "Where?"



"Um, I don't know, really. Some warehouse somewhere," I lie badly.



He give me the stink eye and says, "A warehouse, huh? You know, if it were true, I'd match your price."



"Huh," I say lamely. "I hope it is." And then I slink off as quickly as possible, run down the street and buy my cool red runners that cost $10 more than the boring turquoise ones.



And then I went home, put them on, and went for a really hard run. And you know what? My feet looked cool while they ran.

a little wordless wednesday on thursday, but not so wordless...

Thanks for the posts and emails of support and empathy for my trials and tribulations of life with the twos. This evening while I was making dinner, I gave Naomi some bowls and "ingredients" to cook, too.

Can you tell she's testing me? Luckily, I think she's adorable.

But I did pull out the the timer and wondered out loud how fast she could get the Os and raisins back into one bowl. The kid has no concept of time, but she's always up for a challenge!

Also, she really likes that dinger on the timer.

Not So Wordless Thursday...