growing up February 1, 2012

Maddie, my almost 13-year-old, middle school kid, is growing up.

I don’t like it one bit.

Because in my eyes, she’s still my baby.

I mean, it seems like it was just yesterday that she was born, and nursing, and attached to my hip as she insisted on being carried everywhere. Even until a few months ago, she begged to still sleep in my bed and fought with Luke to sit next to me on the couch.

But, now she grows. Away from me.

Sure there are still times that she wants to sleep with me and times when she comes up and hugs me, but they’re rare. And I know they’ll become even more rare over the next few (several????) years.

I wish I could say that I’m accepting this like a mature adult, but I find myself throwing tantrums all the time, and behaving more like a toddler.

Inside, that is. On the outside I’m trying to keep it together. I’m barely accomplishing this.

Like today, for instance. I pick Maddie up from school and she gets into the back seat.

“Guess what happened today Mom,” she says, hands clasped together and bouncing in her seat.

“What? You got a 100% on your Spanish test?”

“Noooooooo. I mean maybe. I don’t know yet. Something better, Mom.”

“Maddie, I’m tired; it’s been a long day. Just tell me what happened.”

“I got asked out!”

“What,” I say. “By whom?”

“R.”

“Well, what did you say,” I ask.

“I said YES!!!”

“You said yes?”

“Yeah, Mom. I really, really like him. I’m so happy!!!!!!!!!!!”

Inside I start panicking. My brain starts searching for answers: Images of locking my sweet baby girl in a closet flashed across my mind. No, I could go to jail for that. Homeschooling!  That’s the answer, I think. Wait. I don’t even have the time right now to check her homework, so how will I home-school her? MOVE!!! Yes, we’ll move away to a different town. A smaller town. A town with no boys!!!!!

On the outside, however, I just calmly say, “Hmmmm. I trust you to make good decisions, and I’m sure this boy is nice [side note: I've heard he's NOT! from an inside source], but I’m in a little bit of shock and I’m not sure how to handle this, so you’re going to have to give me 24 hours to let me absorb this because, you see, in my eyes you’re still my baby, and this is hard for me–you growing up. BUT, I’m really glad you told me.”

I think this was honest and mature. But since then, I’ve picked apart our conversation and thought about what to say tomorrow, but I keep sticking to one thing that’s really bothering me:

She said, “I got asked out.”

Maybe it’s the feminist in me, but really? It just seems so passive. I know, I know, this coming from me who didn’t–and said over and over I can’t and I won’t–want to ask out a man. But I have had self-esteem issues. Maddie does not.

Or does she?

See, this is what’s bothering me.

In a bit of weird irony, tonight Maddie finished reading Jane Eyre, and she came downstairs to talk to me about it. I took this as the perfect opportunity to teach without preaching.

“Let’s talk about the ending, Maddie,” I said.

“No, let’s talk about the crazy wife in the attic,” she said.

“No, that’s sooooo boring,” I lied. “Let me read you my favorite line: ‘Reader, I married him.’”

“Um, that’s your favorite line?”

“Maddie, Jane is a feminist! She didn’t wait for someone to come rescue her, did she? Did she wait by the fire for someone to ask her out? No. She said NO to men!”

“Well, she said no to St. John, but she did say yes to Mr. Rochester.”

“O.K., she did. But she was a strong woman! She’s my hero Maddie. She should be yours.”

“I’m just glad she’s rich and married in the end.”

Reader, I let it go.

I’m going to bed with the intent of letting it all go for the night.

By tomorrow I will have a plan of how to deal with Maddie having a boyfriend (this is so difficult for me to even say aloud let alone type) that will be fair and goaded by trust and honesty.

I will grow up.

Because Maddie sure is.

vacation’s over January 10, 2012

I’ve officially been back to work for a week now, and surprisingly, I’m feeling really good about this quarter. I felt ready, really ready, to get back to work.  Though, the day before school actually started, as I was sitting in my office prepping, a sense of dread did come over me.

Thankfully, it passed. And before school started, I had a fantastic break with the kids.

Maddie won our local AYSO U14 final game, coming in first place and then came in 3rd place in regionals.

She had such an amazing team of girls. They all got along so well.

Her coach, Coach K, was amazing: by far the best coach we’ve ever had. In any sport. Hands down.

Maddie played so well this season. Her coach guided her to become more aggressive, skilled, and overall, gave her the shot of confidence she needed.

I’m thankful that my best friend Jill, her husband Greg, and her son Gavin made the drive to see Maddie’s game. That’s true friendship.

My sister and her family also came. I’m thankful for how supportive they ALWAYS  are.

The kids and I also went to see my nephew Braden’s soft ball game. It was really cute. And some of these boys are so talented!

Maddie and I went to see my niece Cate’s very first ballet recital. It was so damn cute, I wanted to capture the moment forever. All of us cheered her on.

 

On a sunny yet chilly day, I took the kids down to the beach with Baily, our dog, to walk along the pier and play in the sand.

Then we went to the barn to buy some fresh produce and walked among the sunflowers.

Luke and I had a date and went apple picking. Even though the season is over and were few apples left, we still enjoyed the experience.

 

 

I spent hours making flower bobby pins and magnets for Maddie’s school to sell for their annual Christmas Boutique.

Luke and I had one of many coffee dates while Maddie was out busy with her friends.

The Luke got sick and even though I hate to see him ill, I love how cuddly and loving he is.

As a treat for our family, Milo, our cat, brought home a mouse.

That was still alive! I tried my best to save it (him? her?), but alas, Milo had the final say and the mouse died.

In many ways our vacation seemed too brief, but then it also seemed incredibly long at the same time, which is probably why I was ready to get back to work. But I’m thankful for the quality time I had with my kids.

I’m also thankful that I had a fun New Year’s Eve without the kids. I was with my sister and a bunch of friends at a local restaurant, and I had so much fun, I didn’t even take pictures, except for this one which a friend sent me (and it’s not even that good, but at least it kind of shows how much fun everyone is having).

 

I really believe 2012 is going to be a GREAT year with much to look forward to.

My only New Year’s resolution is to be more conscious of what I’m thankful for. I think not writing everyday has made me less conscious, which I don’t like. I also resolved to tell people–in person–that I’m thankful for them. Even if they hear it multiple times from me, I’m going to be much more vocal this year.

Finally, on New Year’s Eve my friend Devin, who had recently broken up with her boyfriend of 4 years, introduced me to her new boyfriend. He was so handsome and nice and I told Devin this. She responded by saying:

“That’s because I’m great and I deserve great things, and so look: I got someone GREAT!”

I love it. Devin is a humble person–no ego at all. But she knows she’s great and she has a wonderful and healthy confidence.

So I’m also stealing Devin’s saying and making it my own for 2012:

“I’m great and I deserve GREAT things”

nature abounds December 27, 2011

There’s so much to catch up on and share, but for now, I’m just going to tackle today.

Because today was a great day. A spur of the moment day when I woke up and thought, “I want to do something really fun with the kids. An adventure.” I feel like we’ve been in the house a lot, caught up in the holidays and family and rushing around.  We all needed a change of scenery. We needed to slow down.

So, I decided to take the kids to Salmon Creek for a hike. I’ve passed by it every time I’ve gone to Big Sur and I’ve never made the hike, but today, it was 60 degrees, the sun was shining, and we didn’t have anything to do (except for cleaning the house and I did not want to do that). Maddie was grouchy at the prospect, Luke was kind of tired, but I had made up my mind: we were going.

We didn’t do the whole hike. Only to the waterfalls and then we lopped back around to go about half-way to Spruce Camp. I would have liked to have made it all the way to Spruce Camp, but it was such a steep climb and with Luke still on my back, it was getting too difficult.

But it was still gorgeous.

(The hike up.)

 

(The falls. Gorgeous.)

(Luke was so, so, so made I wouldn’t let him get naked and go play in the water.)

(Luke finally got off my back and walked a little bit by himself)

We then left, and we were all in a better mood. Maddie had stopped pouting, Luke had some energy, and I felt renewed.

We stopped a few times on the side of the road to take in Big Sur’s stunning views:

We also stopped to see the elephant seals.

It was a long day driving up the coast, but it was worth it. Getting my kids out and into nature: that makes me happy. They may not always be pleased, they may whine, they may pout. But once in the depths of nature, their faces change as they become almost enchanted with and by nature’s energy. There is a distinct change in them. Far away from distractions, we have nothing to do but observe the beauty of this earth: the flowers, the trees, the water rushing to the Pacific, the monstrous seals flapping sand over their bodies, winding roads, breath-taking scenery.

It’s not hyperbole when I say this is what keeps me feeling alive in spirit. I want to roll in the dirt and spread my arms against thick rock.I want to rest my head in the moss and whisper my problems to a rushing stream.

And I do, all of this. Because nature abounds. And absorbs all of me.

the ways in which i make my daughter thoroughly unhappy November 21, 2011

My daughter, my beautiful, loving, precious only daughter has changed from my best friend, the love of my life (and hers), my do anything and have fun gal, my side-kick for almost all past adventures to a sourly, pout-y, moody, don’t want anything to do with you mom because you make my life miserable tweener.

Oh the tween years (and really in a few months she’ll be an official teenager). I know I went through them. I know I was moody and an emotional wreck. I know surges of hormones took over every sane and rational part of my being.

But mostly all of my tween-angst was because my mom was so not cool.

And I am cool.

My mom didn’t take me to hip concerts as a child. My mom didn’t take me to museums or plays or art exhibits or anything that might have cultivated a sense of appreciation of the arts. I mean, sure I have it now but that’s only because I had to learn it on my own…and if there’s one thing I don’t want Maddie to do it’s to have to struggle to find out what’s hip and cool on her own like I did.

I knew from the day she came out of my precious womb, that I would gently guide her to liking everything I did. And as I looked at her sweet sleeping baby face, I knew–I mean I knew–that I wouldn’t even have to guide her: that she’d willingly want to like everything I liked.

Because, you know, I’m hip.

And cool.

But somewhere in the past year, my precious sweet daughter has gone from loving every concert, museum, art exhibit, author reading to absolutely despising whatever event we are at.

Last week, I took her to see some live music. And it was three all girl punk bands who were interesting and funny and quirky.

This is what she looked like throughout the show:

And I said, “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you enjoying this? I’m letting you stay up late to see this. Listen to their lyrics: how empowering are they?”

To which she just rolled her eyes, turned away, and slumped in her chair.

(Notice the head slump action)

“Maddie. This is cool. You should be enjoying yourself. You’ve seen tons of live music and you’ve always loved it.”

“Well, I don’t love it now. I want to go home and go to bed,” she replied.

So we went home.

A few days later, I took her on another date: to a poetry reading.

This is what she looked like throughout the show:

“Maddie. Why are you pouting. This is art. Right now you’re cultivating your inner-self. You’re learning how to appreciate art.”

“Can I play a game on my ipod?”

“No. Pay attention. What other parent is doing this with their kids right now. Look around. Do you see any other kids here? No. How cool are you?”

“That’s my point, mom,” and the eyes roll.

“But that just makes you cooler. Plus, we’re seeing Leslie and another colleague of mine, Lisa.”

“Aren’t they amazing Maddie? The strength of their words?”

“Um, I guess. Can we go home now?”

“Please take a picture with me so I can blog about how much fun we’re having…”

“Fine mom, I can fake it.”

Then we went home.

And I sat Maddie down and told her how much I love her and how much I love spending time with her and how when she was little (up until even a year ago) how much she enjoyed doing things with me, how she was always up for an adventure.

And I explained that I didn’t have a fun mom and that I understand how her hormones are coursing through her body and that she can’t help to be moody, but really, I asked, “Can you just try to enjoy your time with me cause, you know, the things we do are so cool. You are so lucky to have such.a.cool.mom.”

Eyes roll. Head slump.

“Mom! That’s what you’re NOT understanding. You are not cool. At all. Nothing you do is cool.”

Um. What the fuck?

I’m sure that’s just the hormones talking.

the kids’ edition November 13, 2011

In the past month or so, the kids and I have been on a hurling course through the universe of homework, school, babysitters, after school activities, sport practices, team games, slumber parties.

And that’s just basically Maddie.

At this point, I’m just trying to keep up with Luke and Maddie’s schedule. I always tell myself, “Just stay a day ahead and you’ll be alright.” This works about 80% of the time. The other 20%, I run out of time to make a healthy dinner so I order pizza, I forget to print something out for Maddie so I have to make a late-night run to my office, I forget to send Maddie to school with money for something so I have to leave work for a minute to drop it off, and I forget to pay Luke’s daycare provider (even though I DO have the money) until she has to call me at least 3 times.

I also: forget to return that important paperwork to Human Resources, forget to pay rent (just remembered today!), lose some student’s essay (I’m convinced it’s in my car somewhere), go to the wrong restaurant to meet a friend and then wonder why he’s not showing up, almost run out of gas because I didn’t have the time to stop and refill my tank, ignore Halloween and not put up one decoration, and run out of milk, juice, bread, eggs, and wine!

The list could go on and on. I don’t think that I’m a failure though. I just know that I’m really busy. And the kids are busy. And life is just a bit crazy right now. But in between these moments of chaos, we’ve had some incredibly fun times.

:::::

Like attending Natalie’s 5th birthday party and getting  to see my best friend Denise (Natalie’s mom) and her family.

Happy birthday Natalie!

 

 

 

The party’s theme was dress up, and Luke was pretty much the only boy there, so the girls put make up on him and dressed him up. He LOVED it.

 

Luke really knows how to rock a pink, glittery scarf.

 

 

Seriously, every girl took off her dress up clothes, but Luke wouldn’t take his off.

Maddie got to see her best friend Jailyn (Denise’s daughter as well), so for her, the birthday party was fun also.

:::::

Then there was Halloween, and I ordered the kids costumes just in time. I like to make sure the kids are themed, and so Maddie picked a Sesame Street theme: she went as Big Bird and Luke went as Cookie Monster. It wasn’t nearly as inventive as last year’s costumes (when Luke was a gnome and Maddie a pink flamingo, so together they were my lawn ornaments), but they still looked cute:

The only problem was that it was about 85 degrees outside, so Luke only wore his costume for about 5 minutes.

:::::

On Halloween, Maddie had her first ever school dance (during the day). I decided to stop by on my way to work and take pictures, but after 5 minutes, the literature teacher approached me and kicked me out, saying “Parents are NOT allowed.” Like I knew this (side note: had I read the weekly announcements, I guess I would have known this.). At least I still got some good pictures. And observed that Maddie was NOT bumping and grinding with some 8th grade boy (I’d kill him. And her.)

:::::

Luke was with his father on Halloween night and Maddie and a bunch of friends went trick-or-treating by themselves, so I had 2 whole hours to grade at a very quiet coffee shop. Did I miss watching the girls trek from house to house? Hell no.

But lest you think I am a bad parent, I made up for it later in the evening because after trick-or-treating, Maddie and four of her friends came back to our house for a sleep-over. Between the sugar high induced tween excitement and chatter, I sat on the couch with a glass of wine and read the New York Times. It’s amazing how adept I am at tuning things out (i.e. tween chatter).  Everyone had fun. Everyone was happy.

:::::

Maddie’s school had its annual blessing of the animals, so we dragged ourselves to school at 8a.m. with our dog, Baily, in tow. This may not seem like a difficult task, but getting all of us dressed and presentable and fed with a dog that had to look good too was quite the feat.

I asked the priest to sprinkle Luke with some holy water too. Lord knows he could use a few extra blessings.

Amidst the dogs, cats, turtles, fish, and birds, someone brought in his pet cow. How awesome is that family?

:::::

We drove out to a coastal town to celebrate Maddie’s old babysitter Amy’s birthday. Amy babysat Maddie from the time she was 6 months old to 7 years old. She was the best. I often referred to her as my husband. Being able to celebrate with her made my heart sing.

God do I just love this woman!

This is what makes Amy so great: in the middle of her own birthday party, she spend almost an hour with Luke digging in the dirt until she found a bug (a walking stick no less!) for Luke to play with.

Maddie brought her best friend Jailyn to the party and they had a great time running around the yard with Luke and the dogs.

:::::

I don’t work on Fridays (as in, I don’t have to teach and instead just get to stay home and grade, so technically, I guess I do work on Fridays), and Luke and I always have a Friday date. He gets to choose what we do and where we go. Almost every Friday, he chooses to go to the barn so he can feed the animals. We always end our date with a sandwich and ice-cream.

Sometimes, though, Luke just wants to lay in bed and watch a movie, and I happily oblige.

Other times, he just wants to sit and play with me for hours, drawing and building blocks.

(Luke’s drawing and interpretation of me. A friend said it looked like “Family Circus,” and those are just my footprints from running around. If this is the case then Luke is more astute than I believed him to be.

:::::

We’ve still been trying to squeeze in family dinners because nothing makes me happier than bringing friends together with my kids to share a meal.

I think my favorite dinner guest may be Andy because he plays so much with Luke, distracting him as I finish dinner. He’s a great uncle!

:::::

So despite all the chaos and the forgotten dinners and missed appointments, we’re hanging in their, perhaps even prospering as being a family on the go. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed and I look to my kids to see if there is disappointment in their faces. Usually there’s not. Instead I see smiles and love, which makes me appreciate our lives, in all its craziness.

and, yes, apparently, I am still a bad blogger. November 8, 2011

I am sitting in my office right now waiting for students to come and receive help from me about the essay they have due the next class. I canceled classes for today and tomorrow, pushed back their essay deadline,  and am holding office hours for 4 hours today and 5 hours tomorrow in the hopes that students will be proactive and work on improving their essays before they turn them in. The benefit, I believe, will be that I get to read better essays and the students learn more about the writing process.

This idea, however, doesn’t seem to be coming to fruition.

Not one student has come to see me and I’ve been sitting in my office since 11:00.

Whatever. I’m not going to let it get to me because this is what my office desk looks like right now:

Essays, homework assignments, emails to return. I am so very busy right now. I honestly feel like I may never catch up to all the grading I have to finish. And then, as soon as I do finish a pile, another one just replaces it. It’s so frustrating. So frustrating that for Halloween I attended a party and the theme was “Afterlife,” so I thought and thought and though about a costume and I finally decided that I should just follow my heart.

I went as the death of an English teacher.

 

Maddie and I worked really hard on this costume. I made photocopies of student essays and gave Maddie a red pen and told her to write whatever she wanted to on them, but to make sure she wrote a big “F” on each piece of paper. She had so much fun doing this. Here are some of her editing comments:

“My 12 year old daughter can write better than you.”

“This is why I’m retiring.”

“I should have become a doctor.”

“You’re writing is KILLING me.”

So we took these essays and stapled them all over my clothes. We took an old head band and glued essays to it as well as red pens and binder clips. I put red pens and binder clips all over myself and zombied out my face. On my back I attached my REAL paycheck stub and wrote: “I died for this much money a month.”

Seriously, it was a great costume. And people could not believe how much little I made a month. “That’s just soooooo sad,” they commented.

You’re telling me.

Anyway, I should be grading and trying to clear off my desk, but perhaps I’m more like my students than I wish to admit because I cannot muster up the strength/courage/ability/attention to grade one more terrible essay. So, instead, I’m updating my blog. Which, in my last blog post, I said I’d be doing every other day until I had caught up.

But obviously I didn’t.

So I’ve spent the past 2 hours, sitting in my office, alone putting all my photos on the computer and organizing everything so that I can actually blog with ease over the next week and catch up on everything.

Thank God. All this pressure is making me so very anxious.

WAIT. A STUDENT JUST CAME IN! WOOT.

His essay was terrible. I don’t even know how he’s going to improve it before the due date. Ugh.

Anyway, To alleviate all this back loaded blogging  pressure I AM going to post every other day until I catch up. I SWEAR.

Starting with this post, which is now secondly titled:

THE SOCCER EDITION.

So we are a soccer family. In all honesty, it’s probably the only game I can sit and watch in entirety, which is odd, I know, because soccer is such a low scoring game and most people find it boring. But not me. And not Maddie.

We’re not sure about Luke again. He’s the wild card of the family.

I took Maddie and Luke to watch our university soccer team play against our rivals. We went with my best friend Denise and her daughter and we had the best time.

(Game time)

Luke, Maddie, and Denise.

Denise and I. We never get to see each other even though we live in the same county and work at the same place. Thus, I am always so grateful for the time we do spend together.

Me and Maddie. She sat with her friend for almost the entire game, which made me really sad, but I just let her go and hid the tears.

All Luke wanted to do was play under the bleachers.

Denise’s daughter Jailyn played soccer with her team for the half-time show.

Our school won and I loved how the students all rushed the field.

We’ve also been going to our university’s girl’s club soccer games. We go because the kids’ amazing babysitter, Alison, is the president of the club and she plays as well. Although she is the kindest babysitter ever, she plays a mean game of soccer and is incredibly aggressive. I also like to take the kids to these games because we get to sit on the field instead of bleachers, so it feels more intimate and because I want Maddie to see all the great female athletes on the team–hopefully, she’ll find it all so inspiring that she’ll decide  not to do drugs or have sex while she’s a teenager.

Fingers crossed.

Game on.

Hmmm….Luke’s not interested in watching the game, so he’ll just try to climb the fence and bother everyone around him…

…but then he’ll pause for a moment and pay attention. Then he’ll go back to bugging everyone…

…until he finally falls asleep…

…and misses the best play of the day.

Like clockwork, every time we go to a game, this is what Luke does.  Maddie and I think he may not be a soccer player when he gets older. What a sad thought. What will I do Saturdays in the Fall? How will I keep my kid off drugs?

Finally, Maddie’s playing on a kick-ass soccer team this season, and they are undefeated.

She’s out there somewhere playing.

Watching her team play (and dominate!) is exhilarating, and I’m proud that Maddie’s becoming a more aggressive player (last week she got yellow carded for taking out a player. I know I should feel shame, but I felt pride. If this makes me a terrible parent, then bring it on…). The one thing I don’t like is the early morning games:

Freezing cold.

Even though his sister is playing right in front of him, all Luke wants to do is play. His favorite game is to just hide. He reminds me of a osritch.

But I guess all that matters is that Maddie is having fun and enjoying herself.

And not doing drugs.

20 years ago September 14, 2011

Twenty years ago, I was 15 and I thought I knew everything. Everything. I mean, everything. I had the entire world figured out and with the help of Kurt Cobain, I really understood life. I had watched enough Disney and John Hughes movies to know how love worked, I had a good group of friends and we were convinced we’d live next door to each other forever, and all the money I made at my part-time job was spent on me, me, me. I was the center of the universe. The world gravitated toward me.

Twenty years later, at 35, I realize I know nothing. Nothing. I mean, nothing. Kurt Cobain killed himself, life moved on, and I don’t understand much. There weren’t enough movies at the Cineplex to teach me about love and life, my friends have morphed and changed over time and none of us are neighbors, and all my money is spent on bills. My children are the center of my universe and I am but a small speck of dust, 1 person of almost 7 billion. I do not hold the world in my hands. I do not have the answers.

But somehow I feel like I still have learned a lot. Even though I know less and am more uncertain every day, I actually know more and grow more certain every day. I look at this sentence and realize it makes no sense, but yet, it also makes perfect sense. Wonderful sense. In the past 20 years I have changed more than I could ever have imagined and the past few weeks have shown me how different my life is at 35 from what I thoguht it would be when I was 15.

At 15, I never imagined myself with two kids and single. I think I imagined myself married and living in sweet harmony somewhere in Montana (I always wanted to live in Montana. I don’t even know why. I’ve never even been there) with a couple of young kids running through the grass. Easy kids. Always well-behaved kids. Now, at 35, however, I couldn’t imagine my life any differently. I love my kids, and I love the bad ass way I brought them into life, confident in my ability to parent by myself. Sure, a little different than most people and a lot different than what I had thought at 15, but it’s still pretty kick-ass. When I meet a man who doesn’t like kids and seems to holds it against me that I have kids, I really do think, ‘Well, that’s a shame because really the mama part of me is the BEST part of me.”

Because my life with kids has been a roller coaster of fun times. We’ve had a few dips here and there–late night puke sessions, yelling across the dinner table, one concussion, and countless time outs–but mostly we have fun. Family fun. Really, really good fun.

Like watching Maddie play her first ever volleyball game (and I am not kidding when I say Horace Grant was in the audience. Because he lives in the area and his daughter goes to the opposing team’s school. But how cool is that? Horace Grant watched my daughter play volleyball!. )

Maddie’s school lost BIG TIME (with Horace Grant watching no less), but Maddie did really well. I think this may be her sport.

Family fun is having my brother-in-law buzz Luke’s hair because I’m tired of paying for haircuts when it grows back so damn fast. Twenty years ago the thought of my 13 year old sister being married with kids to a wonderful man was unthinkable. She didn’t even like boys. Now I can’t imagine Jon not being part of our lives.

(Before)

(Starting)

(Half-way. Cate blow drying the hair off Luke’s neck)

(Finished!)

20 years ago, I would never have thought that hanging out with my mom would ever be fun nor did I think I’d live in a small town. I saw myself city-bound (for a while at least, then it was off to Montana). The jokes on me now because I hang out with my mom all the time and we do have fun and I live in a town so small that it’s almost impossible to go anywhere without running into someone you know. This past week, I took my mom and the kids to our town’s last Friday night concert and we, of course, ran into many friends.

(The concert)

(My mom with Megan and Sadie)

(Jenny and her mom)

(Carolyn and Mark, Garth’s parents)

(LOVE)

Twenty years ago, I didn’t think my mom knew I had smoked pot, but apparently she did because she said to Maddie, “Your mom smoked a lot of pot in high school.” I looked at my mom in disbelief not because she knew I smoked pot, but because now, as a parent, what am I supposed to say about my past, the things I did 20 years ago?

I also didn’t think that I would turn into the parent of my mom and scold her for bad manners like talking on her phone constantly: at dinner, at restaurants, at the coffee shop.

(Fun family time at coffee shop, but oh no, what’s that…)

(It’s my mom on her damn phone!)

I remember countless fights about me being on the phone when I was 15 and this was pre-cell phones; actually, I think it was pre-call waiting, so my mom was always yelling at me to get off the phone, and now, dammit, I’m yelling at her to get off the phone. My 15 year old-self cannot even grasp the reality of this.

In the past 20 years I’ve made some amazing new friends and I love how much they love me and my kids.

(Megan and I walked the kids downtown for dinner, but Megan walked Luke on her bike. And now he’s forever in love with her).

(Jenn and my kids)

(A bunch of girlfriends from the early college days came into town to visit Colleen, whom I’ve written about before, and who is still battling cancer. Keep her in your prayers.)

My new friends are amazing, but there’s something about the people who knew you in your youth that make them even more special. Twenty years ago, I lived in south Orange County in a pretty tight neighborhood, and it was then that I met a lot of the friends I still have today. One group in particular, a bunch of boys that all lived down the street from me and literally all next door to each other, taught me a whole hell of a lot. These boys were older, wiser, and much more experienced then me. I was just this skinny, 15 year old girl who so wanted to be as cool as they were. They went to college, and I stayed home and went to high school. They went on fun summer adventures, and I got to hear about them when they came home. But the one thing they did share with me was the love of a band. Two of the neighborhood boys, Drew and Jack, went to Chico State for undergraduate school and came home with tapes of this band, The Mother Hips, who played at their college parties. Soon, regardless of what college we attended (or what high school we were still at), everyone in the neighborhood was listening to these tapes. I’m not even sure if I loved the tape they gave me because I thought the music was so amazing or if it was the love of these boys sharing their music with me, but the band grew on me, and once I went to college, and the band started touring California, I went to every show possible. I think I’ve been to probably 50+ Mother Hips shows.

**Disclaimer: If you’re not a Mother Hips fan, you just may want to skip this entire portion**

They call their music California soul and I can’t think of a better way to describe them. This past weekend, in Chico, they celebrated 20 years together and I went up with my good friend Ryan (also from the old neighborhood) to listen to their concert and reunite with the boys from the old neighborhood.

But first we drove up to Santa Cruz and stayed at another high school friend, Kai’s house, nestled in the middle of the Santa Cruz mountains.

(I love that mountain living)

(Kai and his fiance)

(Kai and Ryan played guitar for hours. I just got to sit and listen. So very nice.)

We left the next morning, early, and headed for Chico. I’ve known Ryan since I was 15 and he’s like a brother to me. We haven’t road tripped in many, many years, but I’ve decided he is the best road trip partner ever. I laughed so hard in the car I almost peed my pants.

(Ryan’s road soda)

(We saw this as we entered Chico and I had to pull over and take a picture for my dad. Go Greenbay!)

We went straight to my good friend Matt’s house, who lives in Chico and has known me for almost 20 years (16!).

And Matt took us to the Sierra Nevada Brewing Company:

(This is the glass that Ryan stole–STOLE!–from the Brewing company by putting it in my purse. I felt like such a mule!)

From there we met up with the Hips’ parade, which sounds totally dorky if you’re not a Mother Hips fan, but oh well. Basically, it was about 150 Hips fans on bikes taking a tour of Chico and hitting up all the spots that the Hips used to frequent when they all lived there. Here’s a great video someone took of Tim and Greg acoustic during the parade. I love that everyone in the crowd is singing along.

We watched Nicki Bluhm (Tim Bluhm’s wife) sing a song on the front porch of their old college house.

She’s an incredible musician herself and it was fun to stop and watch the scene for a bit.

But then we got back in the car and took a short, short hike (it was 105 degrees outside!) to see the beauty that Chico has to offer.

Then we toured the college, and it’s a beautiful campus. Really, just gorgeous.

(A creek runs through the campus. I’m jealous.)

After spending the day wandering all around the town, I feel like Chico is some hidden gem of a place. I mean, it’s kind of in the middle of nowhere, but I loved the town and the people. Chico, I will be returning.

After all this, we finally went down to the show and caught up with some of the boys from my neighborhood.

(Bruce, me, and Ryan. I just saw Bruce last summer in Portland, but I could see him every day. He’s the nicest, most down-to-earth, loving man I’ve ever known.)

(Ryan, Jack, and me. I’ve had a crush on Jack since I was 15. And I still do.)

The show was amazing in so many ways: the original bass player and drummer members came onstage and played, and then came back and for about an hour the old and new(er) bassist and drummer played all together; the crowd was filled with real Hips fans; my neighborhood boys were all there (even if I didn’t get pictures of all of them) . I don’t know how else to say this and I know it sounds cheesy, but there was just so much love in the room.

I didn’t take any pictures or video, but lots of other people did, so here’s some from the show:

I’m going to stop dorking out now, but the weekend was amazing, and I’m so thankful I was able to be there and to see old friends.

The next morning, Matt, Ryan, and I went to breakfast and then it was back on the road again.

(Ryan drove home. The 5 is a lonely stretch of highway, but good company and the Sunday New York Times makes it so much better.)

Ryan and I spoke a lot about the past 20 years during the car ride and where we thought we’d end up compared to where we actually are. We got a little philosophical and talked about what kind of knowledge is necessary in life, expectations, dreams, desires, and the reality of it all. We thought about who we were 20 years ago, me 15 and him 17, and how different those people are. My younger-self was such a brat and know it all. She’s too confident. I really want to slap her upside the head.

In the end, I’m happy with where I am at right now. My life looks a lot different than I thought it would, but it’s also a lot better than any 15 year old imagination could have come up with. The one thing that remains constant, Ryan and I both agreed, is that we were pretty lost at 15 and guess what? We still are.

side notes August 30, 2011

I talk in circles. This is part of me being an ENFP, my communication style, or so I’ve been told. But this must be frustrating for many of my friends and family, and it’s been like this since I was a kid.  My stories almost never follow a linear path; I often make digressions and if I come full circle then it’s after a long stretch of intermittent stories, and even I am surprised when I make my way back to my main point. This is also how I teach. Somehow, though,  it must not be too bad because I still have friends and I have yet to be fired from my job.

The real hindrance is not when I’m telling a story to a friend or teaching a class; it’s when I’m trying to fit all the pieces of my life into a longer story, even–and especially–if that story is in my head, being told to myself as I turn and mull over some new development, trying to make a connection or see the bigger picture. Or trying to sum up a week or two in a blog post. Sometimes, I wonder: where do I start, what should go in the middle, and how to end???

Because everything in life has a beginning, middle, and end, but putting all the pieces together coherently can be difficult for me.  Which is why I often make side notes. I almost always have a notebook with me and when I have a thought–whatever it may be about: a song I liked on the radio, a teaching idea, a moment of self-discovery–I jot it down in my notebook, and consider it a side-note of my life. This has proved helpful in so many ways, but I’m still surprised at how often I look at my side notes and think, “well, why’d I write that down?”

A loopy circle my brain makes.

Because these past few weeks have been so disorderly, or maybe not disorderly so much as disjointed, I’m going to share my side notes of life from the past few weeks and hopefully they’ll make some sense (but probably not).

Starting with getting back into a regular schedule and going back to school. Maddie had her first day at school as a 7th grader. It’s so hard to believe that she’s already in junior high. Well, technically, she’s at the same school and campus she’s attended since she was 3 1/2, but this year the big change is that she doesn’t have to wear a uniform. She was so excited to finally wear “cute clothes” to school. Me? I’m not so happy. I spent quite a bit of money increasing her wardrobe, the dress code is pretty limited (no jeans, no leggings, no tee-shirts, no cargo pants) so finding appropriate outfits has been a struggle, and the worst, the absolute worst is having to deal with Maddie in the morning, waking up at 6:15 to try on at least three-four outfits before she picks one.

• Side note: Luke and I can easily sleep until 9a.m. if given the opportunity. Maddie going back to school means we have to wake up at 7:30, so I can make her lunch and drive her. But what’s worse is that she’s waking both Luke and I up even earlier to ask how her outfits look. It’s driving me crazy and even Luke is getting a little cranky about it. I bet he even wishes for uniforms again.

Along with new clothes, Maddie has been begging–begging–for a pair of TOMS shoes. I promised her I’d get her a pair after summer, when school started, and then I just splurged and bought a pair for the entire family.

• Side note: I’m not gonna lie: TOMS are probably the most comfortable shoes I’ve ever worn and it’s taking all my will power not to buy a pair in every color.

To celebrate Maddie going back to school, I took her out for a late breakfast, just the two of us, hanging out in our beautiful downtown, people watching.

With Maddie gone, I’ve been walking Luke downtown to a small coffee shop. I have coffee; he has hot chocolate.

I think the best part of this week was a gift from my Aunt Linda: a new mattress! I have never, ever had a new mattress.

• Side note: The mattress I have been sleeping on was my parents’ old mattress, around 8 years old. The mattress before? I’m not even kidding when I say it was the bed my great-grandpa died in. Long story.

Aunt Linda just kindly offered to buy me a new mattress, well, just because. She said the last time she was in town and she slept on my bed, she was incredibly uncomfortable.

• Side note: I think she’s lying. I think she just bought me the mattress to be nice.

This new mattress is incredible.  No longer to I roll over to one side because the mattress is indented. No longer is my back in a kink. No longer…well, anything really. I just fall into this luxurious bed and feel like I’m being held by a cloud. I. am.not.even.exaggerating.

• Side note: O.K. Maybe I’m exaggerating a little. I mean, being held by a cloud is a little hyperbolic. Maybe being held by an angel from heaven, floating above all the world’s problems fits better. Still too much?

Luke loves sleeping next to me and I love that he’s not falling right into me because of the uneven bed from before. Even Maddie has been sneaking into bed with Luke and I.

• Side note: Which is so annoying to me since we’re all crowded together; Maybe I should have bought a cal-king.

The three of us have also been doing some hiking. I feel like we took a little hiatus from hiking because we were traveling so much, but two days in a row we went with friends. The first time we went with Megan and three of her sons:

(Luke walked the entire way all by himself. It’s only the second time he’s done it. I am so proud!)

(Always a cow. The boys climbed up on the rock to watch the cow and little Luke stayed a bit behind, curious but also fearful).

• Side note: He gets that from me, I think. Maddie too. Curious and scared. Always a combination.

The following day we went on the same hike with my friend Allison and her two kids, Seth and Olivia.

This time Luke barely walked any of the hike and spent most of his time on my back. Lucky kid.

• Side note: Unlucky back. He’s getting too big for this.

And we saw another cow, but this time it was a bull, quietly munching on poison oak.

• Side note: Lucky cow. I cringe whenever I see poison oak, my only arch-nemesis.

(Look at those horns!)

Both my kids can be such complainers when it comes to getting ready to leave for a hike, but once we’re there, walking together, we all seem to have a good time, and going with friends and their kids makes it even better.

What my kids do love, however, is a good party.

• Side note: SO DO I!

And a good party we had at Melanie’s son, Charlie’s, 4th birthday party.

(Happy birthday Charlie Roy!)

(Pinata time!)

(Opening presents!)

(The whole gang)

I’ve said it before, but I love Melanie and her husband Derek’s parenting style. They’re so low-key and fun and this party was a perfect reflection of them. Kids ran around, having fun; adults mingled and drank wine. And everything was casual and easy (OK, easy to me. Mel might tell a different story). I think the testament of a good part is how comfortable your guests feel, and I could’ve stayed all night. But I did have a moment of wanting to strangle Derek when he brought out this great big suitcase of musical instruments for Luke to play with.

• Side note: I don’t even care of this makes me a bad parent, but my ears, my ears!!! Luke can only make so much noise before I feel my body tense up and my resilience eroding.

On my own time, I’ve had some pretty fun nights, starting with the best book club ever. We met to discuss the book, House of Mirth, by Edith Wharton.

I remember reading Age of Innocence when I was in college and loving it, and though I’m usually a quick reader, I lugged through this book, and I could not get into any of the characters.

• That’s a lie. I loved Selden.

I especially hated Lily Bart. Spoiler Alert: When she dies at the end, I was relieved.

• Side note: My book club seemed to think I was a terrible person for saying this, but I don’t even care. She drove me up the wall.

But our discussion was so lively and spirited and we were all talking at once during a few moments and it was just so much fun. Maybe it was the wine, or how we clashed on our feelings about the book, or even our new member Joe, but I felt electric and really alive during the meeting.

• Side note: What probably made this book club even more fun was that after we discussed House of Mirth, we discovered, as people looked through their smart phones, that Edith Wharton wrote smut–SMUT!–late in life.  Well, really what she wrote is erotica. Here’s an excerpt:  “One by one they gained her bosom, and she felt her two breasts pointing up to them, the nipples hard as coral, but sensitive as lips to his approaching touch. And now his warm palms were holding each breast as if in a cup, clasping it, modeling it, softly kneading it, as he whispered to her, ‘Like the bread of the angels.’”

• Side note to side note: Are you just dying? The “bread of angels”!!! If some man said this to me, I’d burst out laughing and have to leave the room. And this, from the first Pulitzer prize female writer! I mean, look at her portrait:

With the idea of erotica in his mind, my friend Andy is on his way to Burning Man and decided to dye his hair white for the occasion. Actually, he asked me to dye his hair, and since I’ve never bleached anyone’s hair before, I eagerly accepted the challenge.

• Side Note: Like putting a bottle of hair dye is really challenging?!?

Then Andy, Marnie, and I all went out for drinks and had a great time.

• Side note: Marnie has the best cheekbones ever! I’m so jealous of them.

I also saw my friend Reese play at a coffee shop and she did a great version of “Fever,” but only after I harassed her to sing it. But she does it so.damn.well.

• Side note: Yes, she is reading the lyrics off her phone, but I kind of think that makes the song even more endearing.

And then I saw Niko Vega play, and it was one of the best shows I’ve seen in such a long time.

• Side note: I came across this show rather randomly. I had seen it advertised and made a mental note to go, but then I forgot, and then I was on a date…

More on that later….

• And it ended rather early, and I was wandering around downtown by myself, when I remembered the show, and decided to go by myself, and had no problem what-so-ever doing that but ran into Derek (Melanie’s husband!) and he was going to the show alone as well and so we went together and had the best time ever rocking out to Nico Vega.

Whom I have a girl crush on now.

Such stage presence! Such command of the audience! I wish I had taken a video, and actually I did but the lighting was horrible, but check out her video, Gravity (this songs for the ladies. For all the feminists I know):

She’s good, isn’t she?

Finally, onto my date. The thing is, I have been dating, or at least, on dates. And I’ve mostly written about it in the abstract for this blog because it’s rather personal.

• Side note: And really, with modern technology as it is, I don’t want someone I’ve been on a date with to google my name and have my blog come up and our date explained as public knowledge. Though, I’m pretty sure if you google my name, this blog won’t come up, but still.

However, I’m going to break my rule and talk about this one date because I think it forces a pretty important question about dating and who we (I) am attracted to.

So the date: It was a blind date. But I knew a few things about him: he’s a bit older than me, a single dad, a teacher, a surfer, and I had been told, a really cool, chill guy. So we met for drinks, and he was all of the above and more. And he was handsome and smart to boot. What I really liked about him was how honest and unassuming he was and how he spoke with such love for his daughter. And we had a really, really good time. And I even met him for breakfast the next day.

• Side note: That is not a euphemism for us spending the night together. We didn’t. I swear.

But the thing is, we had no chemistry what-so-ever. Which brings me to the point of chemistry and the brain. Basically, the heart vs. the mind. In my past, I’ve had it both ways:

1. I’ve dated a man who I had incredible physical chemistry with but I knew in my mind that we weren’t meant to be together, but that physical chemistry kept us together, even when we knew the relationship was falling apart.
2. I’ve dated (and, married!!!!) a man that I had NO physical chemistry with because my mind said, “He’s so good. Look at him on paper. You need this man in your life. He will be good for you.” And well, that all just fell apart too. because when the physical chemistry isn’t there, then there really isn’t anything to hold the relationship together. there’s no glue for the paper.

• Side note: Is it surprising that I dated these men after each other? So after the relationship that had incredible physical chemistry, I had the relationship without chemistry. I told myself, after the passionate relationship, that physicality wasn’t important, so I went with my brain. Which wasn’t smart either.

The whole point is that somehow the heart and the mind must meet in the middle. I need to have both. And I knew, especially after our breakfast date, that I couldn’t date this man again because there wasn’t any physical chemistry.

• Side note: This was to the great upset of several of my friends who had high hopes for this date (I did too, actually), and I heard many comments about giving it more time, that the physical isn’t as important as the practical, but I’m sorry, I just beg to differ. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that I won’t compromise for what looks good on paper. The glue–the glue–is so important as well.

And I kind of mourned this realization because something inside of me kind of thought, “Well, you’ll probably be alone forever then. Because how in the world are you going to find someone this good (on paper. Oh, and actually, in person as well) who will accept you for all your quirks and the whole single mom thing and the two different dad things, etc.”

• Side note: Que small, tiny violin. For this moment was a narcissistic pity party for myself.

But then I also thought, “Hot damn. I will find someone. I’m kick ass. And if I don’t, then I’d rather be alone than sacrifice something that I know I need.”

• Side note: Que Rocky theme music. For this was a narcissistic ego-boosting moment for myself.

Either way, it’s a hard balance, and I’m not quite sure how to maintain it, especially since I haven’t found the right balance yet.

• Side note: Which does kind of worry me, I have to admit. It makes me wonder if my standards are too high? But no, that can’t be it, can it?

But I guess I’ll keep trying and hoping and believing that there is someone who will be a fit for me.

• Side note: And please notice that i didn’t say “perfect” fit because I’m not so naive to think that there’s anyone perfect out there.

We’ll see what happens.

So the side notes of my life are what keep me realizing that even if my mind meanders an odd path to knowledge–of the world, of my kids, of my friends, of myself–I still have the ability to pull all this life information together, to form something out of chaos, and to make meaning when sometimes everything seems so meaningless.

The side notes to life, perhaps–for me, at least–keep my head out of the clouds, keep me focused, and I guess, really make me who I am.

• Side note: Which is messy I guess.

blissed out lazy summer days August 5, 2011

I have finally found my summer stride and all this means is that I’m feeling rather peaceful and really, really lazy. For example,  I usually have a really clean house (as noted on several of my blog posts) and take advantage of every free moment I have to do the house “extras”: cleaning out closets, fixing up the backyard, doing something for work.

But this summer, I’m doing none of that. Don’t get me wrong, I still clean my house, but instead of a good cleaning every other day, I’m waiting until the last possible moment to bust out the broom and mop. But by forgoing my neurotic cleaning, I’m actually enjoying summer a lot more. The kids and I have almost perfected the art of lounging in our PJs, meals come when we decide we’re hungry rather than on any timed or planned schedule, and basically, we’re just playing a whole lot.

I have also perfected the art of procrastination this summer. I had planned so many projects to do this summer–changing an entire class structure in one comp class I teach, working with a couple of learning communities, quilting a few quilts–and I’ve done almost nothing. Even this blog has been put on the back burner of things I need to do. Surprisingly I am feeling no guilt what-so-ever about this. Even when Christine, my adorable roomie for the summer, came up to me the other day with a pouting face and said, “when are you going to write your blog post? I really miss it,” I just smiled and said, “soon.” And so this has become my summer mantra, “I’ll get around to it when I feel like it.”

Feels pretty damn good.

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I can’t tell you how many amazing beach days we’ve had. It’s so nice to hop into the car, drive 10 minutes, and be at the beach, relaxing. I must admit, I get a little smug when I meet a stranger who tells me about how much she likes vacationing here. In a moment of schadenfreude, I smile and say, “I know; I’m so fortunate,” but what I really want to say is “Fuck yeah, sucka!”

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Maddie asked if she could give me a pen tattoo. I said sure. This is what she tattooed on my thigh:

:::::

My dad’s sister, our dear Aunt Judy, just got into town from New Jersey. She’ll be here for 10 days and we’re all so excited and thankful.

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My brother also came back into town. He’s been living in Hawaii for the past year and a half, and I haven’t seen him since he moved. We only got to see him for a few days because he’s moving to the Bay area, but I was thrilled to have him back. He’s cool, funny, insightful, and damn, do I just love him so much. We’re pretty close and I can–and do–tell him everything, so having him back stateside and close by makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

To celebrate his return, I invited a bunch of friends over for a big dinner. It was so nice to all be together.

(Jonathan, my sister, and me. Reunited again.)

(Jon and Jon: best brother and best brother-in-law)

(Kids playing during the party.)

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Luke’s been needing an unusual amount of love and comfort lately. I’m not sure why he’s feeling this way, but I can’t resist holding him and hugging him and loving him. I mean, really, who can resist this face:

(“I want you mama,” Luke says about 100 times a day.)

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In the biggest news of my summer, we all had the chance to witness my Uncle Mike do something incredible: compete and finish in his very first ironman. For the past year, my uncle has been training and running smaller races (he even completed a half-ironman earlier this year) all to be ready for the big one. The ironman triathlon is a monster of a race: a 2.4 mile swim, a 114 mile bike race, and then a marathon. The ironman my uncle competed in was in Sonoma and is called the Vineman. He started the race at 6 in the morning and finished at 10p.m. 15 HOURS!!! I can’t imagine doing anything for 15 hours, let alone competing in a race. Like my brother said, “I can’t even sleep for 15 hours!!!1″

But he completed the race despite having some pretty bad knee and calf cramping by the time he got to the marathon portion. We are so very proud of him!

(Waiting for the race to begin)

(Finishing the swim portion)

(Starting the bike portion)

(About 16 miles into the run. Looking good!)

(The finish line)

(Luke and I waiting at the finish line.)

(Finished! Maddie with Uncle Mike. He’s now an official IRONMAN!!!)

It was a long day and I didn’t do anything but show up for the end. Much props goes out to my Aunt Debbie, her husband David, my sister, and my mom who were there for almost the entire race, cheering and handing out gel packs. I’m so fortunate to have seen such an amazing feat. And even though my uncle said this was the only ironman he’d ever do, he’s already signed up for another 1/2 ironman and a 50K ultra marathon all in the fall. he also just announced yesterday that he’s going to do the Vineman again next year and try to cut off two hours from his time! I think he’s a bit batty, but you can bet we’ll be there to support him!

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Because my uncle was doing the Vineman and it was in Sonoma, most of my family decided to make a vacation out of it and rent a house on the Russian River. My mom and dad, my sister and her family, my Aunt Debbie and her husband, my brother-in-law’s sister, and I all enjoyed a beautiful house right on the Russian River, complete with a private beach. It was heaven.

I actually left a few days before everyone else, so I could stop and visit friends and family along the way.

I just love driving over the Golden Gate Bridge. Is there a more beautiful bridge anywhere? I think not.

The first stop I made was to visit my old college roommate, Cory and his son Jake (his beautiful wife, Kara, was working so we didn’t have a chance to see her.).

(Picture taken from facebook. Had to steal it because it’s just the most beautiful photo ever!)

We met at Cory’s house and then took the kids to the park and took a walk in a little creek. We all had the best time.

From Cory’s house, we drove to my cousin Nicole’s house to spend the night. Nicole and her husband are the nicest people and their two sons are not only gorgeous, but so well-behaved!

(Nicole and Chris. Another pic stolen from facebook because I suck at taking good pictures!)

(Beckett, the most adorable two-year old ever! P.S. Pic stolen from facebook)

(Baby Finn, the newest member of Nicole and Chris’s family. And I actually took this photo)

(Nicole and Chris have a little studio under their house, aptly named the Rose Cottage, which is where we had the privilege of staying!)

It’s funny because when we were all little kids, all the cousins would see each other quite often, but then distance and family changes separated us and we didn’t see each other very often at all. Over the past year or so, as adults, we’ve all made a concerted effort to see each other more often, and I’m so glad we’ve done this. It’s not only nice to get together and talk about our kids and lives, but also to catch up on the past. I feel so very blessed that we were able to spend some time together and I look forward to many more nights chatting over wine with the kids playing in the background. This is what life should be about.

After a great visit, we left Nicole’s house and battled some terrible traffic to make it to Sonoma.

We arrived at our destination, a huge 5 bedroom house right on the Russian River. The whole weekend was filled with relaxation and river time (after the big ironman day that is). My best friend Michelle, her husband, and their two kids even joined us. We had such a nice time. I would go back in a heart beat.

(The view from our house. From the trees you can see the beach and river.)

(The river)

(Big family dinners are my favorite!)

(Luke, Cate, and Olivia relaxing in the river)

(Michelle’s daughter Olivia is pretty much the cutest little girl ever!)

(Olivia and Luke watching a movie and resting)

(My dad with Cate and Luke on the hammock.)

(My dad and Cain [Michelle's husband] took all the kids on a canoe ride.)

(Luke and I lounging and chatting)

(Enjoying inner tubes)

(Naps outside under an umbrella may be Luke’s new favorite thing)

(Michelle holding baby Lila and me.)

The weather was perfect, the company was amazing, and the river was awesome. I could get used to a lifestyle like this.

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I had the most random fun night out. It all started with Garth coming to town. We went to a poetry reading, then out to dinner, then met up with some friends, and then spent the rest of the night dancing. Well, let’s be honest, Garth sat in the corner talking and I danced. It’s so nice to know that Garth and I can be friends, really good friends, and go out and have a really fun night with really fun people. It always amazes me how far we’ve come from when we dated. But it just goes to show: we were better friends than anything else.

(Garth and I)

(Garth went to school with this woman, Sabina. Turns out she’s one of the top tattoo pin-up girls. Besides being absolutely beautiful [and a mother of three kids!], she was one of the  nicest girls I’ve met in a long time.)

(This guy danced with me all night long, and he’s a practiced swing dancer, which meant that we really, actually danced together. Which I was terrible at. he pointed out that I just don’t know how to let a man lead [big surprise!], so he asked me to trust him, and I did. Then he flipped me over his head and spun me around. Everyone saw my undies. Awesome.)

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As someone who’s just getting her toes wet dating again, I’ve had a lot of time to think about what I like and don’t like in a partner, as well as what I need to work on myself. Finding the right balance seems impossible at times, and it’s so easy for me to get caught up in the moment rather than thinking ahead and making wise decisions. But this past week, I saw a few images that help remind me of what I should look for in a man, in myself, and in life.

I also read this great blog post by Donald Miller. Donald Miller is actually a Christian writer, though pretty liberal. And why I don’t consider myself a Christian, or maybe a good Christian, or maybe what I’m trying to say is a practicing Christian, I did think his post was beyond wise, and I basically just ignored all the Biblical connections (though to be honest, there weren’t many). His post is titled, “How to Live a Great Love Story Vol II For the Guys” (as soon as I typed that I realized that there must be a Vol I for the girls, which I haven’t read, but will do so immediately). I seriously urge you to read this. It doesn’t matter if you’re a male or female, dating or married: This guys makes some excellent points.

READ THE ARTICLE HERE

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My writing project is coming along nicely. I’ve written 40,000 words, and I still feel confident in the direction its taking. But that doesn’t mean I’m confident. I have moments of confidence where I think, “Yes. This is good. This is really good. I’m actually going to make an impact on American modern literature.” These moments mostly come to me when I’m drunk, which isn’t really that often. And when I’m drunk I feel pretty confident. And make incredibly stupid comments that I’ll actually change American literature.

Mostly though, I’ll write a thousand words, unsure, and then have a serious panic. I’ll think everything I’m writing is absolute crap, and I’ve wasted almost an entire summer writing terrible prose and an overly-sentimental plot and a character that no one will like. I feel like this about 80% of the day.I know that my dialogue and descriptions and language are terrible, but I also know a lot of revisions will improve that. But I keep getting stuck in the same cycle of self-doubt: what about the plot and the main characters? What if the actual plot sucks and the characters do too and no one wants to read it (not even me!).

So I finally made a decision: I broke my promise to have no one read a draft and sent it to three people. Three.

The first person I sent it to was my friend Jeremi, who actually read the first 15,000 words and liked it. I trust Jeremi’s opinion more than almost anyone I know and I told him to give me good constructive criticism.

The second person I sent it to was my sister. She actually did not want to read it because she feels like she’s not in the right literary caliber. Which is exactly why I picked her. I’m too embarrassed to give this to one of my high-literary colleagues, but my sister is smart, and she reads a lot. All I asked her to do is read what I have so far and tell me if she wants to read more. I don’t want her to worry about critiquing anything else.

The third person I gave it to was my brother and only because he begged and I hadn’t seen him in such a long time. I gave him the same instructions as my sister. Part of what I also told Jeremi, my sister, and my brother is that the 2 page introduction is super lame and I’m taking it out, so to pretty much ignore it. I feel like I made a mistake in giving my writing project to my brother because as soon as he started reading it, he said, “The intro is really terrible. I mean really bad. Whiny. Girl-whiny. God. It’s just bad.”

“I know,” I said, “that’s why I’m taking it out. Ignore it. Just read the whole thing quickly and tell me if you’d want to keep reading. If you’re interested.”

“Well, I hope it’s better than the intro cause that really sucked.”

Ugh. Maybe I’ve made a huge mistake, but I do want the honest truth, and I’d much rather be exercising and getting my ass in shape than just writing a load of crap. No one’s gotten back to me about it yet and so I feel anxious all day long. It’s like the first time you tell a man (or woman) that you love them. There’s always a pause and you wonder:

1. Will he/she say ‘I love you too’ quickly and actually mean it? Which makes you feel VICTORIOUS and totally full of love and happiness and encouragement.

2. Will he/she say ‘I love you too’ slowly and just be saying it to appease you, but in no way does he/she mean it. Which makes you feel depressed, but at least hopeful that the real love will come around.

3. Will he/she say nothing and just look at you in some sad, pathetic way and then you’re screwed and you feel like an idiot. And don’t give me all that self-help shit about how at least you said it and were true to your feelings because that doesn’t change the feeling of being a complete and total sad sack moron.

All three of these things have happened to me in the past and waiting for writing  feedback today is like being stuck in the long pause between saying ‘I love you’ and getting a response: torturous.

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All in all, I’ve had a wonderful couple of weeks and we’ve been pretty busy doing almost nothing everyday except enjoying ourselves. I feel these blissed out lazy days are exactly how summer should be.

I’m late, I’m late, I’m late July 7, 2011

This post is coming up seriously late, 2 days late to be exact.

But it’s only because I was traveling and having fun and actually…

…doing a whole bunch of writing.

As I shared in my last post, I revisited a novel I started about six years ago, and now I’m fully immersed in it. I’ve been writing almost every day for at least two hours and at this point, I’ve written 16,808 words, and added an additional 20 pages to what I started with. This is also why my blog is late: the times I’ve sat down to write my blog, I’ve been more drawn to writing this novel. I’ve been super grateful to all the friends who’ve answered my silly questions (ex: quick: name 3 albums that came out 8 years ago), but it’s kept me going.

But damn is this difficult at times. I refuse to stop and edit what I’m writing because I know, I just know, I’ll get caught up in a terrible paragraph or a terrible sentence or even a terrible word and then I.WON’T.MOVE.FORWARD. So for now, I just write and keep going, even if it kills me that I’ve used some word multiple times in a paragraph. I can fix all that later.

There are some serious concerns I have about this whole writing a novel process:

1. When I get stuck with something, I keep thinking just “write one true sentence” (Hemingway’s advice). But then I panic: what does truth even mean? When I texted my friend Leslie in a panic about this, she responded with one word, “YOU.” So mostly, I stick to writing what I know, which means my life, which means this is slightly autobiographical, which means I’m really laying it all out there, which is totally fucking frightening.

2. A week ago, I thought I knew the exact plot this character was going to take. Now, I’m not so sure. I feel like I’m discovering her as I go, which is cool in one way and super frustrating in another because I’m pretty sure most writers have a solid sense of what’s going to happen next. Not me. But then again, I’ve never called nor considered myself a writer. Right now, I think of myself as someone who’s just practicing.

3. I will not let anyone–anyone–read a draft of this until it is done. Christine begged to read part of it, and I relented and let her read a short two-page dialogue scene. All I asked was for her to tell me if the dialogue sounded real, like how real people would talk. She read and laughed and actually gave a good suggestion to change one word, and then she sat back, smiled, and said, “I really liked it. It reminded me so much of Dawson’s Creek.“

Shoot me now.

4. I have 16,000 words written, and I’m definitely writing more than 250 words a day, but I asked my friend Jenny how long a typical novel is and she said 100,000 words. Holy shit. That’s a lot. I keep looking at all the smaller novels I have in my bookshelf and think, “Perhaps I’ll aim for a shorter novel.” But then I just kind of relax and figure when the stories finished, it’ll be finished.

I could go on with a million other things I’m worried about, but I’ll save that for other posts. But that’s basically why this post is up late: writing. But also because I was in San Francisco visiting friends and family, and we had the best time ever.

Starting with me leaving the kids with my parents so I could go see Neko Case for a free show at Stern Glen in the city. I went by myself, which is something that I actually LOVE doing. Sometimes I would much rather see a show by myself than with friends. But when I got into the venue, it was so packed that I wondered how I would ever find a place to sit.

As I walked around, I noticed that there was an area marked off right in front of the stage, an area with benches no less. I walked up to one of the volunteers working this area (more like guarding it), and asked him what this special are was reserved for.

“Seniors and disabled people,” he replied.

“Well,” I said, “I’m clearly not a senior nor disabled, but I’m by myself, I’m rather small so I won’t take up that much space, and I drove all the way here from my town by myself just to see this show.” (The last part, I admit, was a total lie.)

“Hmmmm,” he thought, “Come back in 10 minutes, and I’ll consider it.”

“10 minutes,” I said, “No problem. I’m just going to stand right over there and wait. I mean, I’m going to keep staring at you, but don’t worry. I can wait.”

“Fine,” he said exasperated (but also with a smile), “you can go in.”

Hell yeah! I had second row seats!!! Sure I was surrounded by seniors and disabled people, but I had a beer, the sun was shining (in San Francisco. Amazing.), and I was in the second row. And you know what? Seniors are rad. I had such nice conversations with them, and one lady even gave me a cold beer half-way through the show (there was no way I was going to risk losing my awesome seat by getting up to buy a beer.  No way in hell).

And the Dodos were great:

But Neko Case really stole the show. I’ve seen her twice before, but this show is now my favorite. She has the most amazing voice, and she was chatty with the audience, and she was humble, and my God, just incredible.

And even though video recording was forbidden, I broke the rules and took this video of my favorite song of hers (and let’s be real, everyone around me–even the seniors!–were recording songs with their phones. I even helped some cute little old lady figure out how to record on her iPhone. Those seniors, they certainly are embracing technology).

The only thing that distracted me from Neko Case was the hot, hot, hot sound guy.

While his head is turned to the side, trust me when I say that he was beautiful and just my type and hey hot sound guy, I doubt you’ll ever read this, but if you do, find me. I’ll love you forever. I promise. Well, that’s if you’re cool as well (which in the fantasy I’ve created of us, together and happy, you are).

From the show, I got in my car and drove to meet Tasha at the bar she tends on Sundays (because it’s not enough that she works 40 hours a week as a scientist!). We drank beer, I told her about the show, and after about an hour, her shift was over, and we headed to her house.

We made a quick clothes change as the beautiful San Francisco 85 degree weather was turning back to more typical SF weather: cold and foggy. Then we drove to meet Garth and have dinner at Burma Superstar, and I can attest that not only was the company awesome, but the dinner was amazing. There’s a reason an hour wait is typical at this restaurant. The food was just.that.good.

From dinner, we wandered around the area, walking in and out of stores, eventually stopping to have coffee and dessert. We found this GREAT little bookstore and record store all in one, and spent a pretty significant amount of time just browsing.

We all had a great time, and it was so nice to see Tasha and Garth. I miss them both tremendously, and Tasha, damn Tasha, I miss her the most! I’m so thankful we had some quality time together. And I have to give big props to Garth who helped me with a portion of writing this novel by describing–in perfect detail–his old record player and stereo system. He even sent me an email of the description and I cut and pasted it into the novel, changed some wording and the tense, and pretty much used the whole thing verbatim. It’s now one of my favorite scenes.).

Sunday was a very good day.

The next day, my entire family joined up in Marin county for my cousin Nicole’s son’s birthday party. Me, my kids, my mom and day, and my sister and her family all had a great time celebrating Beckett’s 2nd birthday and meeting Nicole’s 5 week old new son, Finn. Plus, we saw more family–it was a mini family reunion–and it felt so good to be together.

(Happy 2nd birthday Beckett!)

(My beautiful cousin Nicole and her new son, Finn. He’s gorgeous.)

(I think my kids are perfect, well nearly perfect, but I cannot–for the life of me–get Luke to smile for a photo. He looks like he hates us. But I know the depths of his love. It runs deep.)

(Beckett’s birthday present: a newly constructed side yard with toys galore. All the kids were in heaven)

(Can I just brag for a moment? How beautiful is my daughter?)

(Luke playing on some kind of construction worker toy. My dad said he looked like a natural on it and maybe he’d have a career in construction. Bite your tongue, father. Not on my watch.)

(Maddie, my sister, and my mom. Also in the background, Jon, my absolute favorite brother-in-law ever. Also my only brother-in-law, but still…)

(The Mayor, aka my dad, who makes friends with everyone wherever he goes, and Cate)

It’s been a great week (plus two days), and life’s been a bit busy, but still so, so, so good.

Hopefully, posts will be up as usual on Tuesdays, and I’ll try my damn hardest, but if I’m in the middle of writing something good (or really rather shitty, but something with perhaps the potential to be good? Or kind of good? Or at least a step up from Danielle Steel or for God’s sake, better than Dawson’s Creek.), then I’m going to be late on a post or two, or maybe even skip one.

But I feel alright with that.