it's so nice to be thanked...

As I was cleaning out the lunchboxes this evening, I found this note from Tali, thanking me for lunch. Sometimes I send little notes in her lunchbox for her to find later in the day, but this is the first time I received a note back. And a thank you note, no less.

It totally took me by surprise. One, the fact that my daughter realized that today, my first day on a new job was a big day for me. And two, the fact that she was thoughtful enough to do what I did for her made me proud. It made me even think that I was doing a pretty damn good parenting job.

And then of course nobody would go to bed tonight and I ended up taking away screen time privileges.

Sigh... I'll take what I can get. Oh, and tomorrow, she's getting a pretty great note in her lunch box.

mother's day--not just another hallmark holiday. or maybe it is...

Before I was ever a mom, and before I had any idea what being a mom is about, I had a friend with two small kids. It was her first year in Seattle (also, I think it was her last) and it was rainy and gloomy out and she called me and asked if I wanted to join her for some spa time.

"It's Mother's Day... Don't you want to spend it with your kids?" I asked. (Oh, the naivete...)

"We had a great morning together before naps. But, boy, you just wait."



I'd shrugged off that conversation then--it was during the years when I wanted to start my family and had idyllic romantic ideas about what being a parent entailed--and, at the time even wondered if her reaction was really normal. But every year on Mother's Day, I think about that conversation and Sarah and my different reactions, because it was so blatantly obvious that I had no real idea how complicated it was to be a mother.

I have just had the best Mother's Day I've ever had. And I think it's because finally, after 10 years of being a mother, I actually truly feel like a mother.

I know that sounds sort of bizarre, but this time I saw Mother's Day for what it could be worth. When I realized that nobody was making plans, I called my mother and along with my sister-in-law we made plans to go have have pedicures and drinks in the late afternoon and then meet up with the crew for takeout dinner afterwards.

The whole day was spent enjoying being a mother. I got my breakfast in bed. Twice. (Starting at 5:45am. Frozen Krusteez pancakes--I guess what goes around comes around.) I had amazingly adorable handmade cards delivered to me all day long. (Also starting at 5:45am.) I spent the day with the kids gardening, being silly, breaking up fights, kissing booboos, helping with homework and also engaged in some totally unfun disciplining. In short, it was a parenting day, but it was one where I remembered all day long how much I've always wanted to be a mother and how much I love being a mother to my kids.

And then at 5pm I got to sit in a chair next to my mom and Kate and sip a drink while someone else massaged my legs with hot oil and lotions. It was relaxing and lovely. And because the three of us are usually accompanied by six kids, it was a treat to actually be able to track each other's conversation. Kate even fell asleep in her chair while having her feet rubbed (ah, the joys of night nursing...) It was heavenly. The perfect mix of enjoying what you have and getting a break, as well.

Tonight I'm back to laundry and making mediocre lunches that will come back to me tomorrow night all smushed and uneaten. But anyone who says that Mother's Day is just another Hallmark holiday is... Well, they're probably right. But I'm certainly not complaining.

parenting techniques that work, but that you shouldn't be completely proud of...

This is the first of a series of parenting posts I am working on about techniques that work, but that you should really keep under wraps because they really don't project that all together parenting image you're probably going for.

And because I am over-worked, over-committed and a crappy blogger, I'm spreading this series out for as long as I can.


The Fake Phonecall.

This is a act of desperation. It basically involves picking up the phone in front of a screaming, tantruming, and otherwise totally hysterical small child and faking a call that will instill the fear of all that is holy in her (Does that last sentence make sense? I'm thinking not but moving on...)

For example:

Me: If you don't take a nap, you won't be able to come with the entire family to dinner at your best friend in the whole wide world's house.

Small Hysterical Child (SHC): (whilst rubbing eyes) I don't care. I'm not tired...

Me: Okay, then I will need to find a babysitter. [Pick up phone, dial fake number, and then hang up]

SHC: Noooooo! [pause] Okay, I don't want to go.

Me: Ignoring SHC and pretending, like the ridiculous loser that I am at times, to talk on the phone. To the dial tone.

"Hi [insert most hated babysitter's name here], Is there any possibility that you're free tonight?"

[SHC stops crying and perks up to listen to phone conversation]

"Oh great! There is? That's awesome. Because SHC had a very late night last night and won't nap today, and there's pretty much no way she's going to be able to make it through dinner at her best friend's house tonight."

SHC: Yes, I will!

Me: "Okay... Uh huh.... Mmmmm hhhhmmmm.... Yeah... Great! So you'll be over at 5 o'clock?"

SHC: Noooooo! I'll nap, I'll nap!

Me: "Okay, great. See you then. And wait, if by some chance she falls asleep and naps, I'll give you a call. Bye!"

SHC: I'm actually sleepy, Mommy. Will you pat me?

Me: Happily, baby...
-------------------
NOTE: Be sure to really hang up the phone. That off the ringer beeping is sure to give your plot away, if not to the SHC, definitely to her older siblings who have wisened up to you by now.

what's in a name?

Last week, Naomi decided to change her name. I thought it was cute, as it is everytime she says something that surprises me a little.

"What are you going to change your name to?" I asked.

"Gabrielle. Or Gabriella," she says seriously. "I will answer to both of them."

"Oh," I say. I think of all the Gabrielles and Gabriellas I know and try to wonder who might have recently made an impact on Naomi. I'd really thought that we'd have until at least six years old before she protested her name. "Gabrielle is a nice name," I tell her, "but I really love Naomi. That's why I chose it for you."

"I don't like Naomi or Noemi. There's already another Naomi in my class. I want to be Gabrielle."

"Okay, Noems..."

"No! Mommy! My name is Gabrielle," she says adamantly.

"Okay, okay..."

So this afternoon when I pick her up from daycare, she runs up to hug me and I say, "Hi Baby, how're you doing, Noemi?"

"Mommy! That's not my name!"

At this point her teacher chimes in, "She changed her name to Gabrielle. She's been calling herself that all week."

I can't help but feel a little rejected since I'd spent so much time pouring over the name books and thinking about her name. I love her name. And Gabrielle is a really nice name. But it's not the one I chose. I thought she'd forget about it by now.

Any bets on how long this will last while I take consolation in the fact that at least my three year old is persistent?

kids these days, or how i prove how old and out of it i am...

After school today I took the kids to our friendly neighborhood Target to peruse the Halloween stock. We checked out the costumes, the candy (did you know that Hershey Kisses now come in Pumpkin Spice? Is that truly necessary?), and of course, the Halloween makeup where you can make disgusting scars and disfigurations that my kids are totally obsessed with. No longer fascinated with Star Wars or fairies, the kids like the scary and disgusting. And nobody could be bothered to check out the cute animal costumes.

"Not even Noemi would like those," Tali sighed, rolling her eyes and giving her shoulders a little pre-tween shake.

After we'd looked at everything, we headed to the groceries (OMG, Target now has groceries??? Do I need another excuse to head over there?) because once again we are out of milk.

"Hey, Mom! I'll bet they have stickers!" Sam suddenly yells.

"Um, sure," I say, heading toward the coolers. "Why do you want stickers?" I ask. "For your locker?"

"Noooooo!" he says totally insulted. "Why would I want stickers?!"

"I don't know," I say. "That's why I'm asking?"

"No, Mom," he says slowly and carefully, as if he's talking to someone who needs some special help (like his mom?). "Stickerz! You eat them, but you can also use them as stickers! For your face!"

"Those are so cool!," Tali chimes in. "I love those! They stick!"

"Wait," I say, "You eat them and then put the fruit snacks on your face? Why would you do that?"

"No, really," he says. "They're cool."

"Don't you usually try to avoid food on your face?" I ask.

But nobody answers me because they've found the Stickerz and hallelujah, they're on sale for .87 a box (um, that somehow did NOT surprise me that the store seems to be trying to close them out), but I score major points by splurging on two boxes.

In the car, they squeal as they each rip open a package and promptly lick their fruitsnacks and apply them to their faces like large, juicy star-shaped pimples.

"We are so cool..." Tali sighs.

just call me the meanest mom in the world...

We've been working on structure and organization in our house.
It's part of getting into the rhythm of the school year, but also to get the kids into taking responsibility for getting ready in the mornings and getting their things together.

And for B and me, too, this has been an undertaking. Making sure keys, wallets, and communication is in the right spot, grocery lists are filled out, and that lunches are made.

In my unemployed state, I've gone completely OCD.

I've put a significant amount of time into this project. I talked with Sam's teacher and that unlike last year, this year I would not be driving forgotten schoolwork or books to school. I sat with the kids and made checklists for the mornings and evenings, and together we even decorated them with their fave characters.

We go over the reasons why it's important for them to take charge of their own things, and to take care of their schoolwork and belongings.

But week three of school has been our undoing.

Yesterday, Sam forgot his glasses at home and called me from the office at school.

"Mom, can you bring me my glasses?" He asks nonchalantly.

"Seriously, Samuel," I start. "Haven't we gone over and over you getting your stuff together?"

"Mom, I can't see."

Fine. I bring him his glasses. The kid can't see. And when I get to his school, his teacher confirms the fact that yes, he really needs his glasses.

This morning, I double efforts.
"Everybody sure their backpacks are ready?" I ask. Tali nods seriously. Sam hmmms and continues drawing pictures of baseball players.

And then not five minutes after their carpool takes off, I get the phonecall.

"Mom, I left my book on the table."

I see it, sitting right next to his drawing of Ichiro.

"That's not so good," I tell him.

"But the good thing is school hasn't started yet," he tells me. "You could bring it over now."

And I tell him no. He gets upset and angry with me. He tells me he's going to be in trouble. And when I repeat that I cannot bring it to him, he gets quiet. I know there will be consequences for forgetting his book again.

I know I'm doing the right thing. I know I'm teaching him something. I know I'm not supposed to be his best friend.

Too bad the right thing feels completely crappy...

he's been around the block...

Last Sunday, after much needling and nagging about how I never let him do anything, I gave Sam permission to skateboard around the block. Alone.

"Just around the block and nowhere else," I told him.

"Okay," He said. "Can I go now?"

"And stay on the sidewalk on the busy street."

"Why would I ride my skateboard on the street? I'm not stupid, Mom." And he rolled his eyes in that pre-tween way he's working to perfect.


And he's right. He's not stupid. He's actually a pretty conscientious kid. And at his age I was walking a mile on a busy street to the bus stop with my younger brother (and through sleet and snowstorms without shoes, blah, blah, blah). I remember once when my brother was younger than Sam, he got so angry at another kid after school (Or was it me? Selective memory serves me well) that he refused to get on the school bus and then walked the three plus miles home alone.

Nobody stopped him. Not the bus driver, the yard teacher, or any of the parents standing around.

As a parent, I shudder to think about that little kid walking home all that way by himself. Who knows what could've happened to him.

But the thing is, nothing happened. He'd felt confident enough to do it and he did. The biggest issue here was that it was a long walk for a small kid, but he wanted to do it, and that was really his own problem.

Last weekend, the New York Times posted an article about the anxieties parents these days have about letting their kids do things they did as children, like play outside the gated yard, walking to school on their own, or staying home alone. And while I was relieved to see that my paranoia and skittishness as a parent is the trendy thing these days (natch--we even get a lame term--helicoptor parents) it makes me sad that each small step toward independence is such a struggle for our kids. What's the point of having a skateboard if you have to ride it up and down the driveway and wait for your parents to take you to the playground? But events like the Jaycee Dugard case hit us all in our most tender nerves.

The article talks about a ten year old who, during his walk to school alone, was picked up by police who were called by a concerned neighbor. His mother had made an informed decision to let the boy walk alone because she wanted him to be able to develop the confidence and self-sufficiency to somehow grow into a full-functioning adult someday. And surely, a fourth or fifth grader, a kid only a year or so away from middle school, should be able to handle this task. But the deluge of media content about horrific events involving kids come at us all day long--news, radio, television, newspapers, blogs, tweets, and so on...

It's a struggle to let them get older and need us less. Sam's delight at making his way around the block alone seemed pathetic to me--for both of us. He has so little of that carefree ownership of his neighborhood that I did, and we have to think too hard to allow him small freedoms we took for granted.

After he left, I thought to myself that if he asked, I'd let him go around the block again. And when he came back, dawdling down the street as if he would take all day, I asked him how it went. He smiled and said it was nice to be alone.

But he didn't ask to go around again.

bye bye cable...

We've been looking to cut back a bit because recessionista chic is the thing to do these days and well, the not having a job thing is also quite a compelling reason. So the other night, I started going through our budget and redlining certain items.

First to go... The gym. It's true that just having the gym membership in my very own name makes me healthier, but I haven't stepped foot in the place for over a year, and would much rather run in the sleet or pouring rain than get on one of those tediously boring eliptical trainers. I put cancelling membership on my list of to-dos and feel good. I am a budgeting wiz.

It's easy enough to not renew my subsciptions to American Girl and Nickelodeon magazines since I'm not exactly sure why we receive them in the first place. But I'm not so willing to get rid of my pedicure of the month membership since, um, nice toes help me run so much faster. And so the budgeting gets harder.

And then I notice that the kids are watching television again. They've snuck upstairs to my room and have closed the bedroom door so that I don't hear them (because they are sooooo sneaky) and when I surprise them (booo!), they turn it off quickly (embarrassingly, I was guilty of the exact same thing at their age, but we don't need to get into that), but not before I see that they've been watching Hannah Montana, which is probably one of the lamer shows I've ever seen. I mean, how come Miley's friends at school don't REALIZE that she looks exactly like Hannah M. because she IS Hannah M.? Come on, tv execs, do you think our kids are stooopid?

"Why are you guys watching this?" I practically whine. And then it hits me. I can barely remember the last time I watched cable. Last night I tried to and couldn't find anything I wanted. This is the perfect thing to redline.

I let the kids watch the rest of the show and I watch it with them. It is slapstick, superficial, and totally age inappropriate for a six year old girl, though Miley is pretty and has cute clothes. Tali smiles when she watches her sing. It's sweet, but there are many, many years for her to watch inane tv shows and not only will nixing cable save some money, but also a lot of arguments.

"You guys, next month we're getting rid of cable. We don't really need it and school will start and then we'll be too busy to watch TV," I tell them. "Plus there is a ton of stuff we can do besides watching these shows."

"Like what?" Tali screams dramatically. She might have just seen Miley do that on her show.

"You are the worst mother EVER," Samuel says to me. He storms out of his room, flops loudly on his bed, and opens up a book.

Suddenly I have the very strong feeling that I'm doing the right thing.

and i thought we were over the sleep issues...

Today while in the pediatrician's office waiting for Sam and Naomi to have their annual well-child visits, I browsed through a tired and dog-eared issue of Good Housekeeping from last year. Though I was hoping for some truly miraculous good housekeeping secret, I found an article by a mother who was talking about how she let her eight year old daughter sleep with her.

"She's only little once," she was quoted as saying and my first reaction was that this was very sweet. I looked up at my brood waiting not-so-patiently in the waiting room, fighting over the toys, and rolling around on the floor like small possessed animals. But it was a nice idea and I thought at that moment that the next time they tried to climb in bed with us in the middle of the night, I'd totally let them stay, instead of escorting them back to their beds, exhausted and muttering the mantra, "We all sleep in our own beds."

And then I read on to see that she only had one child and a king-sized bed.

And so I changed my mind.

Because even though I love cuddling with my kids more than most other activities, I'm rotten company in the middle of the night. And now that these kids are continuing to grow bigger and bigger and bigger, there just isn't enough room in our queen-sized bed for five people, and that's what usually happens when one kid ends up joining us in bed. And a Brangelina-sized bed isn't in our cards.

But hours later after reading that article, I'm wondering if I'll regret not letting them sleep with us once they're too old to want to. I mean, we have the occasional slumber party where we know nobody is going to get any sleep. And we cuddle in the morning, though that usually ends up in a wrestling match between Tali and Sam.

But I know that the time is coming quickly when they'll be embarrassed by our public affection toward them. And soon they'll be sleeping in longer than us (one can really hope, right?), and we'll have all the room in our bed that we want.

So maybe if one of them sneaks into bed tonight, I'll just pretend I don't notice. I think I may be the one with the biggest sleep issue.

today it's an ipod--what will it be tomorrow?

There has been a lot of talk around our house about what Samuel wants for his birthday. Though it's a bit indulgent, my kids know that their birthdays are the one day a year where I'll finagle and wrassle whatever to figure out how to make things go their way (within reason, of course!). So after the kid got over the fact that we absolutely will not buy him an iPhone (seriously???), he lowered his expectations and told us he wanted an iPod.


Okay, I can get into that--he can listen to music in his room, or in the car... And nine years old seems to be about the time where a kid gets pretty interested in their own music. But then he started talking about being able to download movies on the Nano and play games, and the truth is, I just don't want him downloading movies or games so that he can sneak off to his room and watch in private. Partly it's because I totally don't trust his own judgement as to what is okay and not okay to watch, but it's also that I want him hanging out with the rest of the family, too. And seriously, the kid has a Wii and a DS. Why does he need another form factor to play games on?


So after much discussion with his grandparents, we all agreed that a Shuffle would be the best move. Super cute, no screen, lots of music. And the other day, a package arrived for Sam in the mail from his Saba Moty and Grandma Myra. When he saw the Apple box he was ecstatic. And then he noticed there wasn't a screen on the shuffle.

"Um, there's no screen," he said.

"You don't need a screen to listen to music," I said, holding tight.

"Hey, you're right!" He grabbed the shuffle to charge it and then listened to the songs his Saba recorded on the shuffle of his own music over and over until he went to bed.

The next morning he wanted to download music from iTunes.

"I need an email address," Sam told me as he maneuvered through the site.

"No, you don't," I told him. I'm picturing him receiving spam about xxx enlargements and not being able to filter that from real email, whatever that is when you're nine years old.

"But how else will I buy music?"

"You don't have a credit card," I said. "You need one to buy music, so until you have one, you have to ask Daddy or me. An email address isn't going to help you with that."

"Okay," he said thoughtfully. "I need a credit card."

"What you need is a full-time job," I told him. "But you can't have that yet, either."

I'm bracing myself... The tween years are approaching.

experiments in doing nothing...

After driving around like a complete maniac week after week after frigging week, last quarter I made the decision to cancel all extra-curricular activities for my kids that would involve me and at least one of them to spend more than an hour carpooling a day.

Which left us piano lessons because the teacher comes to our house.

Tali gladly gave up gymnastics, even though I thought it was the perfect sport for her. But because she was always so lukewarm about going, I figured that not being allowed to go would either illicit a negative reaction or none at all. She went with the latter.

Naomi gave up gymnastics, too, but in her case it's a little unfair because she never really understood that she was giving it up. She asks about it sometimes and I just tell her that there isn't any gymnastics today. I figure that pretty soon she'll stop asking.

And Samuel had to give up baseball this year, which was probably the biggest sacrifice. Except that although every March he swears he loves baseball and is just begging to to play, but April Fool's Day he's ready to quit. And since this sport requires 2-3 practices a week, I chose this year to not have to talk him into going to practice.

So the outcome so far is that this is heaven.
The kids come home from school and play. Samuel does his homework, the girls like to pretend to do homework and bedtime is infinitely easier when we haven't rushed around all evening to get everything finished. I'm saving hundreds of dollars in extracurricular activity fees and we're getting totally relaxing evenings to spend together. The kids play together, they practice piano (when we beg and then force them to), and they go through reams of paper creating their own cartoons and paper dolls. And when the afternoons are dry, they play games outside in the yard or on the swings and then come inside sweaty and dirty and happy.

But when everyone around us is participating in about two billion activities a week, it's hard to not wonder if I'm holding my kids back from something. What if Talia could be the next Nadia? What if this is going to be the year that Sam develops his obsession with soccer? And Naomi wants nothing more than to be the next Angelina Ballerina...

And I find myself wondering if I'm holding them back just because I cannot stand the afternoons in the car shuttling across town and back again.

So today it all ended.

I signed up the girls for summer ballet lessons. I signed up the bigs for Fall soccer, and I'm signing them all up for swimming lessons in June. And this summer we'll also have the craziness of summer camps and schedules changing weekly.

But I think this semester off thing was good and I'm going to make it an annual tradition. I feel totally refreshed (well, at least as far as carpooling goes) and even though I thought the kids would complain about not participating in some of the activities their friends were doing, they actually never did.

Not even once.

Which is sad when you consider how much these activities cost (and what you could've bought instead). And it makes you wonder how much of what your kids are doing is for you or for them. And it is certainly telling when you think about how much they're missing when they lose the opportunity to choose their own activities.

Tonight Naomi put on her ballet outfit to practice for her upcoming lessons in June. And Sam and Tali are truly excited about soccer. And having had a break from it all, I can see that they're ready to dive back in. But I think by the time next Spring rolls around, they'll also be ready to take a break again, too.

home alone...

Yesterday I left Samuel home alone for the very first time while I went 2 miles down the road to pick Naomi up from preschool. I don't really know when you're supposed to let your kid stay home alone, but when he asked if he could stay home and finish his homework, I realized that when I was his age, my brother and I left for school by ourselves and came home to an empty house and we were fine. Oh, also we hiked ten miles each way to school in the freezing Southern California snow, but it built character and we're better people for it.

And do you know why?

Because we were Latchkey Kids.
Does anyone ever call kids that anymore?

"Okay," I told him. "You can, but here are the rules..."

"I can??? Really? Do you think I can start babysitting for money, too?"

"Um, not quite yet. Let's try this first."

So I gave him the rundown--"don't answer the door, don't use the microwave, oven, or toaster, don't touch my computer, and if someone calls, don't tell them you're alone in the house--tell them your mom can't come to the phone right now."

"Okay, okay," he said, trying to hide his excitement. "I can't believe you're going to let me do this! I'm going to get all my homework done!"

But when I get in the car, I think, oh my gosh, this is totally crazy. I just left my eight year old home alone and I'm driving away from him. While he is alone. In our house. With no parents. Or anyone.
So when I get to the end of our block, I call him up.

"Hello?"
"Hi, is your mom home?" I ask, trying to disguise my voice.
"Um, she can't come to the phone right now," he says. "Who is this?"
"One of her friends," I say. "Can you tell her that Shelly called?"
"MOM! I know it's you," he says trying not to laugh. "Why did you do that?"
"Just testing you," I said. "Are you scared?"
"Nope, because you've only been gone for about two minutes."
"Okay," I say. "Call me if you get scared."

Two minutes later, the phone rings...

"Hey, Mom," Samuel says on the other end.
"Hey, Buddy, did you get scared?"
"NO!" He sounds disgusted. "But I was wondering, can I make a sandwich?"
"Oh. Sure. Just don't use the toaster."
"Okay, thanks," he says and hangs up.

Two minutes later, the phone rings again...

"Hi, can I play Wii?"
"No, do your homework."

On my way back home with Naomi, the phone rings again.

"How do you spell 'radioactive?'"

"Hold on," I tell him, "I'm pulling in the driveway. I'll help you when I'm inside." Of the twenty minutes I was gone, we were on the phone for at least ten of them.

Samuel is waiting for us at the door and he looks elated and completely proud of himself.

"Isn't that great that you can leave me home alone now?" he asks.
---------------------------------------------

We're off for a big back country cross-country ski adventure, or something like that, for the weekend. I actually have very little idea what we're doing except that we're cross country skiing uphill for at least four or so miles and then staying in a place with no electricity or running water. And the bathrooms burned down last month. As well as the fire-heated sauna. And I'm not sure how the kids are going to deal with the ski adventure, but I'm sure we'll get some cute pics of them in the pulk or on their skiis, even if they don't manage to do either for very long.
But the good thing is we're going with friends. And a lot of liquor.

in response to the current financial climate, naomi is doing her part...

Now that we've been out of diapers literally for more than a month, I can officially say that Naomi is potty trained. And as a result, we actually do not have a single diaper or pullup in the house. I know this because Naomi had a friend over today who probably could've used a fresh diaper. Alas...

And unlike her older siblings, Naomi seriously went cold turkey on the whole pullups at night deal. I tried to talk her into it because changing a whole set of sheets on a bottom bunk covered with stuffed animals in the middle of the night after an untimely accident is not a reality I'd like to take part in, especially considering the amount of sleep I've lost over the past eight and a half years of parenthood (hey, another post idea!). But the girl would have nothing to do with them, even if they did have pretty princesses on the front and disappearing hearts and flowers to show that yes, she really did need that pullup on.

But Naomi is a considerate girl and anxious to grow up as quickly as possible. So in light of the current economic situation, and in my latest effort to be as recessionista chic as possible, I added up how much we spent on diapers.

During Naomi's 2 years and 8 months in diapers, we've gone through approximately 6,790 diapers (factoring in at about 7 changes a day, though who are we kidding? As she got older, she probably got changed a little less often and quite frankly, this is a third child we're talking about. But for estimation purposes, we'll go with 7.)

• 6,790--approx. number of diaper changes for Naomi


• 251--packages of diapers bought for Naomi


• $3,266.00*--approximate amount spent on diapers for Naomi


• 20,370--approximate number of diapers Boaz and I have collectively changed in our lifetime.


• $9,781.00--approximate amount spent on diapers for all three kids if we estimate that they were potty trained at about the same time, though since they relied on pullups for a considerable amount of time after training, I'd probably call that number $10k even.

I'm figuring that we're saving about a thousand dollars a year having this girl sit on the potty! But better yet, after changing more than twenty thousand diapers during our parenting years, it's incredibly freeing to leave the house without a diaper and baggie filled with wipes stuffed at the bottom of my purse. But I can't say that I don't feel a slight bit nostalgic that the baby days are speeding away from us at such an incredible clip.

Though, I suppose I still have that spare pair of princess panties in my coat pocket. Just in case.

*Not meant to depress those of you about to begin this sort of moving adventure...

gidget's revenge...

Okay, so the surfing...

This truly was the highlight of the trip, not only because it was generally just fun, but because learning to surf is something I've always wanted to do, but have always been too chicken to really get out and do it. Plus, it's nice to have fulfilled a New Year's resolution so early in the year, don't you think?

Samuel and I took our lesson together in a private lesson from Chris, this 50ish Hawaiian guy who runs a little surf school from this little thatched hut on the beach. Of course, it's in front of the Sheraton, so basically it's where all the haole tourists go to get their lessons so that they can feel like super cool surfers.

Hey, like me.

The lesson didn't start out that well.

Chris made us go feed the heron in the lagoon before even starting the lesson. He said it relaxed him before going out in the water and we sat on the bank for about ten minutes watching as he threw little pieces of bread to the fish so that the heron could quickly snap them up as they enjoyed what they thought were their treats. The whole thing made Samuel antsy.

"Can we go now?" he asked.

"Sssshhhhhhhhh," Chris shushed. "You have to be quiet or the heron won't eat."

Then, when we went out to scout out our spot, we had to wait another fifteen minutes for Chris while he talked with everyone on the beach.

It was very obvious to me that Sam and I were functioning at a different pace than this surfer.

But finally we were out there in the water, watching the waves and Chris began pushing us into them. I was shocked that I could catch them and stand up on my very first wave, which

felt humongous, but as you can see from the video below, was pretty much glorified whitewash. Still, I got up. And wave after wave gave me more confidence. It felt amazing.

After the first day, we went out twice again and while I noticed that it is so much harder to catch your own waves, it was tremendously fun and satisfying. I'm absolutely hooked.

But the thing that really struck me with that first day, was something that Chris said at the beginning of our lesson. He told me he usually didn't like taking moms and their kids together in a lesson because the moms have trouble paying attention to anything other than what their kid is doing. And he made me promise that I would let him take care of Samuel and I'd work on my own lesson.

"Sure, sure," I said, at the time anxious to get started.

But it was really harder than it looked. Having surfed before, Samuel was bored with the lesson and Chris started sending him out doing little surf tricks.

"You're sending him backwards?!" I squealed at one point.

"What's it to you?" he asked me, laughing. "I promise he won't drown. And you don't know this kid, anyway."

So I put my faith in this complete stranger and enjoyed my kid's crazy surf tricks from afar. And because of this, it let me absolutely enjoy myself. As a kid growing up in Southern California, I spent entire summers in the waves, body surfing and swimming and just playing, and because I was on my own that day, I felt that free again as I tried to catch waves and worked on my balance. I absolutely felt like myself. For those few hours, I wasn't a mom or wife or a daughter, friend, or consultant... I was just concentrating on the task at hand and it was incredibly freeing.

So, the video... Be kind. The wave is considerably smaller than it felt this first time in.

after 8:30 pm, I'm outnumbered...

Samuel and I are in the kitchen going over his spelling words when Boaz comes home from his basketball game. The girls are asleep and the house is very quiet. He goes to the fridge, grabs some leftover chicken and after eating a few bites, takes a sip of my ice water.

I gasp.

The thing is, I have a very weird thing going on about ice water. I drink it all the time and absolutely cannot go to bed unless I have a glass of it next to me. And it can't just be water. It needs ice. And it has to be very, very cold.

But the other weird thing is that nobody is allowed to drink from my glass. Not even my kids. And I'm not sure why. I don't have issues with people taking bites from my plate, sharing forks or spoons, or even having a sip of my beer. But it's the water--you cannot sip from my glass and especially not if you're eating chicken.

"Seriously," I say to Boaz, "how many times have I told you that I have a thing about my water?"

"Oops, sorry," he says and pushes the glass back toward me. "It's just that it's so good."

"Yes," I say, "but now I have to get a new one. Have I not been saying this for at least the past ten years?" (Yes, I know I sound like a raging witch--it's the water...)

"Are you talking to me?" Samuel pipes up from the table where he's doing his homework.

"No, Sweets," I tell him. "I'm talking to your daddy who doesn't listen to me."

"Oh," says Samuel. "Because it sounds like you're talking to me. Like when I don't listen to you."

"Hmmm, maybe it's because I'm telling him the same thing over and over again."

Samuel laughs. "Hey Daddy, welcome to the club. She always talks like this to me when I'm thinking about something that she's not talking about." He goes over and pats his dad on the shoulder. "It's good to have you here."

"Hey, thanks Buddy," says Boaz, grinning at me. "It's nice to belong to a club where people understand you."

"Ah," says Samuel. "The Club." Boaz reaches for the water and takes a big long gulp as I reach for a new glass. "It's good at night when there are more boys up than girls."

Sigh... 6:30am will be here faster than you think, Boys!

a little white lie about the tooth fairy...

Despite a large number of false alarms, Talia has her first real loose tooth.
She now pretty much always has her fingers in her mouth, trying to wiggle loose the tiny little tooth that is the size of a bitty grain of rice, and her excitement over this rite of passage has brought on the inevitable.

"Is the Tooth Fairy real?" She asked me last night.

With Samuel, I skirted the issue, careful not to lie to my firstborn. I was careful to practice the art of honest parenting.

"Do you want the Tooth Fairy to be real?" I'd asked him.
"Only if she is," he'd said.
"Well," I tried, "what do you think?"
"I think I wish she was real, but I know she's probably not."
"Hmmm," I nodded.
"And Mommy," he added, "I don't really want some strange fairy putting things under my pillow, so if she's real, I really want to know."

I knew how he felt. As a kid, when I'd lost a tooth at my cousin sister Princess Mikkimoto's house, it creeped me out so much to think about a little fairy messing around near my head while I slept that my lovely uncle graciously put the tooth under his pillow and the fairy left the treats there. I remember staying awake, listening for the fairy, or the dogs to bark at the fairy's arrival, and feeling guilty that I'd made Uncle Dick carry the burden of my weakness.

But there was a dollar under his pillow in the morning.

And I told Samuel that what he suspected about the fairy was the truth, despite my feeble attempts to keep the story alive by programming the Tooth Fairy's "cell phone number" onto my phone. Still, whenever he loses a tooth, he dutifully puts it under his pillow each time and is always pleased to see the fairy dust (glitter kept in my closet for each such occasion) and treat in the morning. I can tell that he's glad he knows the truth because that's what kind of a person he is, but that something in him still wishes he could believe the story.

So when Tali asked me about the Tooth Fairy. I did what I knew I should do for her.

I flat-out lied.

"Absolutely," I told her. "We should give her a call to let her know your tooth is loose so that she can get things ready."

"Oooooh! I'll write her a letter!" Tali said, always happy to utilize her new spelling skills. "And maybe when I lose the tooth, I'll leave her a treat, too, like kids leave for Santa Claus. I can leave some cookies under my pillow for her!"

"Um, Bunny... I don't think that's a great idea," I said, thinking about crumbs in bed.

"Oh, you're right," She agreed nodding. "Everyone knows Santa isn't real."

what wii did during our winter break...

The kids are back to school (thank goodness Sunday's Seattle snow didn't terrify Seattle schools into calling another snowday on Monday--my gaskets have been preserved) and we're very slowly working our way back into a normal, regular schedule. Last night after dinner, baths, and homework, we even got the kids to bed at a halfway decent hour--which is also pretty normal.

The only spur sticking out of our totally well-greased machine of a schedule (I'm cracking myself up here) is that after almost three weeks of no school, the kids are resistant to going back to the no screen time during the school week rule.

They watched a lot of television and played a lot of Wii during their snowdays and winter break. A lot. There's been a whole new population explosion of Miis on our Wii, and after discovering the Wii Fit, the kids have started complaining about getting antsy without their morning workout. Huh. And that bouncy little Wii medley? We all know that by heart now. Naomi was humming it to herself in the bathtub last night.

It is my fault they got out of control.
In attempt to get some work done, I knew it'd be easy to put on the Tinkerbell video, give the girls a bowl of popcorn, and know that an hour and 22 minutes was take care of. And all of them like the Wii. And Samuel did learn some interesting things about Native American history on Google (though I did have to do some supervising--who would've thought that searching on "Squanto" would bring up sexy photos?) Seriously, that was one long winter break with some serious cabin fever...

But when they start getting antsy for the screens, it makes me nervous. For someone who is definitely drawn to technology and video games herself, maybe it's hypocritical of me to feel so skeptical about the draw. We all know that moderation is good, too much television is bad for multiple reasons, but what about something like that Wii? They're interacting with each other, they're getting physical activity, especially with the Wii Fit, and they're even using their imaginations as they role play with some of the games.

Yesterday, on an NPR story about the closing of the Woolworth's stores, a woman was talking about how her childhood memories included buying a bag of broken biscuits from Woolworth's and taking them home to eat with her brother in a tent they'd made in the living room out of sheets.

Which got me thinking...
My kids don't make tents out of sheets. And at the risk of becoming a cliche, I used to love making tents out of sheets. I also used to love to play outside, which is something my kids don't do much of because of all the rain. And I walked to school. Or at least to the bus stop.

And even though Samuel loves the Wii Fit and loves to jump and do all the physical activities, and is even very interested in what makes a body healthy and how much activity needs to go into that, I feel a bit sad when he talks about taking an early morning "jog" around Lake Wii.

But I guess the thing I worry most about is are they losing those wonderful make-believe games they loved to play just a few years ago, especially Samuel, because the video games are so much more attractive? Or is he simply outgrowing them?

For now we'll experiment by taking away the DS and putting away the Wii controllers during the week so that he's freer to do the other things he enjoys. And our normal schedule doesn't really involve a lot of time around the house, anyway, so it's a pretty natural change.

But after the kids go to bed, I'll bet there will be some Wii Fitting going on. Boaz has some pretty slick hula hooping moves...

finders, keepers...

The other day, as we were hanging out in the lobby of the Embassy Suites in Portland, waiting to check out, a woman set down a bunch of shopping bags near us and Tali gasped.

"Look, Momma! Same, same!" She squealed, pointing to a Nordstrom bag and then the little Nordstrom card she was holding.

While we all checked our wallets to make sure we hadn't lost our credit cards, I saw that it was a Nordstrom gift card, all glittery and shiny in it's consumer possibilities. "Hey Tal, where did you get that?"

"I found it on the street. Can I keep it? Please, please, please... It's so shiny and I could play store with it."

"I don't know," I said. "Let's see if it's been used or not. It might be a gift card with money on it."

She understands this immediately and starts chanting "I'm rich, I'm rich, I'm rich! I can buy anything I want!"

So today as we're getting ready to go to the grocery store, I call up Nordys and find out there is $200 on the card. I didn't really expect that much and while I doubt my five year old has any concept how much that is, we all spent a good thirty minutes trying to figure out what she'd buy with her newfound riches. And then T remembered a purse she'd seen awhile back that was shaped like a pug, but with handles and a zipper down its back. A beautiful puggy purse with a sparkly pink collar (and you know how we feel about sparkly collars in this house) wearing a price tag of $40 which had previously earned her only a palm on her forehead to see if she was burning a fever or just indeed truly crazy. And now she wanted that purse badly.

"So can we go?" she asked hopefully.

But here's the thing. I'm a total and utter goody-goody. I kept trying to picture the person who lost the card--some guy who bought it for his wife at the last minute, or some college student who was just psyched to be able to buy some ridiculously priced jeans, and I couldn't quite help thinking that if it were me, I'd try pretty hard to figure out a way to get it back.

So I call up Nordstrom's customer service department and tell the guy on the other end that my five year old daughter found this giftcard and we were wondering if it were at all possible to trace who it belonged to.

"Ma'am, it's like cash," he tells me when I reluctantly give him the account number. "This was purchased at a grocery store so it'd be hard to track."

"But what if someone had their receipt?" I asked.

"Well, I'm still not sure they'd be able to track it. You have to have the card number on it."

"So... There's nothing we can do about it?" I ask. There are serious groans from the kids who are standing around me.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I could put a hold on it."

"Hmmm," I say. "I'm not sure that would make me feel better."

"Since you told me it wasn't yours, that's probably what I should do," he tells me, making me feel like a total imbecile for a number of reasons, including pushing him to put a hold on it.

"We can't keep it, can we," Tali says knowingly when I hang up the phone.

"Nope," I tell her. "Really, it's not ours."

"If we kept it, would it be like stealing? Could they send a five year old to jail?" She seems both worried and excited at the same time.

"Here's the thing," I tell her, after assuring her that nobody will be putting her in jail, "as much as I'd love to go on a shopping spree with you, it doesn't feel right to me to spend that money. What do you think?"

Tali actually looks relieved for a second. "It's not ours," she says. "But I really, really, really want it," she manages to get out before she starts crying. The truth is too much for her at the moment. But it isn't a sad or tantrum-y cry--it's just an overwhelmed cry. And I'm so proud of her.

But boy, I know how she feels... And if you see any sparkly puggy purses on sale, let me know.

the zen of parenting a two year old...

See this bag that Naomi is holding?

Just three seconds before this shot was taken, it was filled with outgrown snow clothes that don't and won't fit anyone in our family. In a frenzy of OCD mixed with a healthy dose of procrastination, I'd spent a little time yesterday afternoon organizing our winter gear so that I could take the stuff we didn't need to the consignment shop.

However, the minute Naomi saw the bag stuffed filled with something that could've been potentially very exciting, she quickly began unpacking.

She then made it a point to clearly ask me where were the toys were in the bag.

"There weren't any toys, Bunny. Just old clothes."

"Oh," she says. "I thought there were toys."

"Now that you've pulled them all out, let's see how fast you can stuff them back into the bag," I try.

"No thanks, Mama. I'm going to go look for some toys."

At least she's polite?

top 10 reasons to continue to buy baby wipes after your baby is potty trained...

10. When you've agreed months ago to host a parent meeting at your house, but didn't have time between work, picking up the kids from school/daycare, making dinner, and putting out refreshments, baby wipes clean the bathroom awfully fast (and they leave a clean, fresh scent, too!)

9. And if you hand one to your two year old, they automatically start wiping everything. This is a helpful cleaning situation.

8. Baby wipes clean up those pesky snot trails your kids leave on your shoulders, and if you don't notice them until just before you walk into a meeting, you probably still have a little baggy of wipes in your purse and you can just do a quick swipe.

7. If you don't have time to really wash your car, you can pull out the babywipes while you're in the drive-thru part of the carwash and quickly wipe up the dash. Again, baby fresh scent!

6. They're also pretty good for tire rims...

5. three words--dog poo on shoe

4. Eight year olds are much less mortified (and less likely to talk about you in therapy later on) if you take a wipe out of your purse to clean off their mouth before running into school than if you lick your finger and wipe it off.

3. In a pinch, one could hypothetically substitute a wipe wash for a real bath.

2. And in that same hypothetical situation, baby wipe shampoos take the greasy edge off dirty kid hair.

1. And continuing on with the hypothetical thread, in a desperate pinch, one could use a babywipe to wipe off sweat from a hypothetical run, as well as hypothetically wipe down one's head to take off the greasy sheen. Ta da! Momma Shower!

Hypothetically, it might be a good idea to not get too close to me this morning...