Her eyes are wide open

It was our younger daughter’s birthday on Friday. Our traditional yearly visit to the beach for this occasion was foiled by the weather; 100% chance of rain was the forecast. Instead we strung together a bunch of her favorite things for her birthday. She could invite a friend and we would do all the fun things she could think of. On the agenda:  Riding the monorail to Seattle Center, walking around Pacific Science Center, dining at the Old Spaghetti Factory, wandering the outdoor art exhibit from SAM, and lastly riding the Seattle Great Wheel. All of which was bookended by rides on the ferry across the sound which is its own kind of excitement. 

When we landed in Seattle, the two teens complained that we weren’t going to start the outing with food. They were both hungry so I sent them off with some pocket money and they promised to meet us at the Pacific Science Center. 

When they finally arrived at the Pacific Science Center, I was surprised to find my 14 year old daughter unashamedly jumping into my arms and hugging me like she had been spooked. I hugged her, happy to be embraced but then aware that this wasn’t normal for her out in public. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Something’s wrong. What happened?” I asked into her hair, her cheek pressed against my neck. 

“Some guy grabbed my ass when I was walking off the ferry.”

My baby girl had been assaulted by some slimy guy. Sure I felt rage, sure I wanted to cut somebody. But I kept my voice even and asked, “Did you see who did it?”

“No, he got into the crowd before I could react. It was just as we were leaving the terminal, right as we get on the overpass. My brother was walking in front of me so I didn’t look like I was with him.”

This alone broke my heart. The idea that she’d be safer if she were "owned" by a man -- a boyfriend, brother, or father -- was already indoctrinated in her somehow. I’ve never consciously told her that this is how to protect yourself from unwanted attention but I’ve done it myself. I wore fake engagement rings when I was in my early twenties; I remember to arm myself with my wedding set whenever I’m traveling or going out for ladies night. It somehow keeps unwanted attention away. Except that sometimes even that doesn’t work. The whole concept is a holdover from a time when women were chattel and men were our owners. Isn't the fact of our personhood enough? The fact that we are complete human beings should give us the right to control our bodies and be allowed to walk around unmolested.

In the end, she could only remember that he was wearing a hoodie and jeans. She couldn't even tell what race he was. She was absolutely shaken. 

For the past couple of years, I've mentioned to her when I'd caught boys and young men noticing her. She's been oblivious to the attention. It's been really sweet -- this little bit of innocence still preserved in her. When she and I walked in Seattle in the past, we'd heard comments or whistles and while I bristled at the attention, she laughed. She never internalized the threat or recognized it as such. Perhaps it's because the scales fell from my eyes so long ago, I have always been aware of the danger.

But with this assault, her eyes have finally opened.

She recalled to me this past summer when she went to Girl Scout Camp with her troop. The girls were going swimming in Hood Canal and the rocky seabed they were walking on was covered with seaweed so she was trying to be careful where she stepped.

"I looked down noticed that the seaweed was moving funny. It turned out it was one of those green spider crabs. I was just about to step down on it so I'm glad I saw it. Then I looked at the rocks and what I had thought was seaweed was actually crabs. There were hundreds of them. They were everywhere. That's what this is like."

She told me of walking hand in hand with her brother through the pedestrian traffic of Pike Place Market and seeing for the first time the looks from men. The greetings and whistles she had so easily laughed off turned into dangerous situations. Despite her 6'4 brother, she felt afraid. The crabs were everywhere.

So I'm angry.

But the amazing Girl Scout she is, she said to me today, "Mom, this year I really want our troop to work on self defense and personal safety." The Girl Scout process is 3 steps:  Discover, Connect, Take Action. I wish she didn't have to discover and connect with the issue so intimately.

Watch out lecherous jerks, this Girl Scout is about to take action.



*UPDATE* A couple of you have asked me what my husband's reaction was. That evening he was not particularly demonstrative. He was quiet as is his way. But this morning he read my blog and the reactions to the post. He told me that he is certain he'd have been in jail had be witnessed the event. Violence begets violence. It's part of our animal nature. This is what violence against women looks like and why we react with anger and rage. This stuff has got to stop. 

My princess and puberty

She's turning 12 pretty darned soon; she's my middle baby, my first girl. And it doesn't come without its challenges. I'm not one of those moms who cringe at the idea of having "the talk." In fact, my kids might complain that I'm too frank about the birds and the bees.

There was a recent podcast by Dan Savage, the very popular sex advice columnist, that made me think that maybe I wasn't as open and frank as I thought I was. I thought I was incredibly open about sex and what is involved. I had pretty much written and rehearsed my script for the talk about sex having real adult consequences so make sure you're ready for those before engaging in sex -- of any variety:  safe, oral, or otherwise. But recently Dan, a father himself, talked about the parents' responsibility to cover the stuff they don't talk about in sex education classes. Sure we can talk about the mechanics, the diseases, and the dangers but have we ever given thought to the pleasure, the kinks, the exploration, heck -- the joy of sex. Maybe that's why they wrote the book with all those weird 70's era pictures, because there isn't a discussion about the joy of sex when you're in class at school.

So with another birthday fast approaching, I decided to go ahead and drop some knowledge on my daughter. All the kids get uncomfortable when I try to blast them with some knowledge. I think that is probably normal though. As I never had any kind of discussion with my mother, I wouldn't know how to be on the receiving end of such a talk. And because I'm pretty sure my husband takes the same tack as my mother does in this regard, it falls to me.

I've talked to my older daughter about the impending period coming her way over a year ago. That went fairly well. I insist that she carries pads and tampons with her at all times. We've had the talk about sex in so far as the "special hug," where the penis goes in the vagina and sometimes ends up with babies. We've talked about mucous membranes and disease transmission.

But lately, I've realized that I don't know how to broach the joy of sex. Not at all. Dan Savage says you have to do some of this like a "download." You talk, the kid listens. Sounds like something I could do.

Instead, my daughter rolls her eyes, puts her fingers in her ears and says, "lalalalalalalala," until I stop. During the pauses, I yell things like, "oral sex still counts as sex!" And, "please wait to do anything like that until you're much older." And, "boys in high school don't know what they're doing so you'd be better off waiting at least until college." That last sentence took a couple of breaks to go all the way through.

This may take a while. Thankfully, I'm starting relatively early.

Cookies

I don't know why cookies are such a popular fund raiser. What a terrible thing to fling at middle aged parents! I'm trying my best to get ready for my high school reunion this coming fall and I've got to wade through a fund raising mine field.

Shoot, the Girl Scout cookie sale is in March. That shouldn't be too terrible considering that the cookies are all in sealed boxes so I never have to actually be confronted with their delicious yumminess. Cookies are one thing, but cookies with a good cause thereby making you feel like you're doing the world a favor -- well, that's just hard to resist. Both of the girls are taking cookie orders right now so if you're looking for cookies, they can hook you up.

Last fall, my hubby ordered 3 tubs of cookie dough from my friend's kid for his soccer club. It keeps well in the freezer so despite them telling us that the dough was ready, we've avoided having it in our house by never picking it up. It's been a good arrangement. We pay for the cookie dough and we don't have to actually eat it.

But... two things happened at the same time this past week. 1. I was at my friend's house. 2. She remembered about the cookie dough that has been taking up freezer real estate.

Shucks.

My husband had ordered peanut butter, chocolate chip, and snickerdoodles. I'm not really much of a cookie eater. None of this really phased me at all. My hubby's real Achilles' heel is the snickerdoodle. He just can't get enough.

As far as I can tell, it is a sugar cookie with a slight tartness from cream of tartar, and covered in cinnamon before it is baked so you can see the fissures in the surface as the dough spreads from the heat of the oven. Kind of like skin on the aliens from the movie Alien Nation.

When I discovered that a big snow storm was on its way, I decided to cook up the cookies. It would be good to have prepared food on hand for the kids just in case we lose power. It has happened for over a week for us before.

But I decided to stick the snickerdoodle dough in the freezer.

Lil'T couldn't understand my reason at first.

Me:  I don't like us having cookies around much in the first place because I know your daddy might sneak them. He can probably resist the peanut butter and the chocolate chip, but snickerdoodles are his favorite. I don't want it to easily available for him to eat.

Lil'T:  We'll a-course he's gonna sneak them. They are SNEAKerdoodles!

I'm so totally not making this conversation up. My baby girl is hilarious. She made up a joke all on her own.

Genius.

Why not?

It isn't her fault that she doesn't spell this right. It sounds like it should be spelled with an "h." In fact, I wouldn't be against her writing a proposal that we do add the "h," to Wyoming. Think of it:  WHYOMING. Why not? In fact, as my husband says, if they had spelled Whyoming that way, it would be logical to name the capital Whynot.

Fortunately, my husband caught the error and before my daughter went off to take her geography test, he reminded her not to put in the "h." Aside from that erroneous h, my daughter had this nailed. States & their capitals -- Mrs. Sua from St. Joes would be impressed with my daughter. Mrs. Sua gave me an "F" on that test in the 6th grade. Hey, I got Hawaii & its capital. 

When my daughter came home, Hubby asked how she thought the test went. She said that she think she did awesome. Then he asked if she put the "h" into Wyoming. She stopped in her tracks. Oh bummer, she said, at least I'll get a 3 (instead of the 4, equivalent of an A+). 

So on Friday she came home totally thrilled. 

"Daddy, you're WRONG!!! Whyoming does have an H! My teacher didn't mark it wrong!" 

When he showed her that indeed, Wyoming doesn't have an "h," she made him promise not to let her teacher know. She wants to preserve her 4. 

Wile te onorable ting to do is let er teacer know of te mistake, I tink instead, I'll just sacrifice some H's out of words to make up for te extra one my daugter put into er state test. 

Double digits

Today is my first daughter's tenth birthday. She lucked out to have her birthday fall on parent teacher conference week. It was a present in its own right. The school district gave her 5 days off for her birthday. Awesome. When I was a little kid, my Catholic school used to give me a similar present. November 1st is All Saints Day, a holy day of obligation. So my friends and I would trick or treat late (past 8 PM) and be able to sleep in the following day. When I got older, the school decided to have kids go to school instead, and they (maliciously) took that day away from me. I ended up not only having to go to school, but having to go to mass during the day and again with my parents at night. Where is the fairness in that?

Daddy got up early to make heart shaped waffles, strawberries and whipped cream, hash browns & turkey bacon for breakfast. (Yes, I know it is Friday, but this is her birthday!) Luckily, Lil'T gets Fridays off from preschool. When Princess announced that she wanted to have a real piggy bank for her birthday, I had the idea of going to one of those paint your pottery places in the next town over. We made a full day of it. 'Cess picked out the largest pig they had and Lil'T picked out a dog. I made a spoon rest that looks like the title of my blog. I used the same color scheme and a hibiscus too. I'll post pictures next week. The pottery place messed with us a little psychologically. There definitely is a time shrink aspect to being in there. We noticed that they had one song on continuous loop, probably for an entire hour while we were there. Maybe they want to make you forget that you're spending so much time working on a piece. We were there for about 2.5 hours but only heard 3 songs. I wonder if it drives their staff loopy. Then again, it could just be that the staff really liked those 3 songs. Don't know.

After painting, we went to a bakery and the girls got to pick out cookies. 'Cess picked out one that was as big as her head -- cinnamon swirl. Lil'T got a 4 pack of yellow frosted smiley faced cookies. And just in case they didn't have enough sugar on board, we stopped by Dairy Queen to pick up the birthday cake. Both girls opted to get some kids meals with a slushy and an ice cream cone for dessert. Maybe I should have them do some push ups before we leave for dinner. 'Cess wants to to go Red Robin for burgers and shakes. She's bringing her vegetarian best friend with us. Hoo boy, maybe they have grilled eggplant burgers. Certainly they'll have grilled cheese. That should work.

I love birthdays with my kids. My husband is really freaked out that we don't have a big wowzer of a present planned for her birthday, but I don't really think it is necessary. I think having a full day of just fun time, of more yes than no's from us, strawberry heart shaped waffles and turkey bacon (favorites of hers both)... these are experiences that are gifts. Who really needs a new shiny? What is important is the gift of time, laughter, and memories.

Yup, today, I'm feeling like a pretty good mom.

Goalsetting with Girls

Every year it surprises me how much "anti-cookie" sentiment there exists in our community. We have brownie girl scouts out in front of grocery stores selling cookies. They have dreams of going camping, having a horse back riding adventure, painting pottery at a studio, and simply having fun. Every year my parents come back from selling cookies with stories of people berating the adults about childhood obesity, too much sugar in children's diets, & the negative message selling cookies has for our girls.

And yet we keep doing it. I don't need to re-argue the why. The Girl Scouts Organization does that far more eloquently than I can. Every year I have a cookie selling story that makes all those negative comments fade away like morning fog. Here is this year's one.

Before we launch into the cookie selling, the girls and their leaders discuss goals. For the past 2 years, my girls have been focused on going to the Great Wolf Lodge. What 8-9 year old child wouldn't want to go there? While we were setting our goals, we did some quick math finding out that we needed to sell 1444 boxes to reach that goal. This would be the year that we could raise enough money to go there overnight. Then we discussed a service project that the girls could get behind. We would participate in the usual Operation Cookie Drop which sends cookies to our troops overseas. However, we wanted something that was just our group's focus. Unfortunately, we ran out of time and the girls were charged with trying to come up with a service project by the next meeting.

The week before our next meeting, the earthquake in Haiti happened.

When we met, I thought I would ask the girls if they had heard about the Haitian earthquake. They had. The girls all had their hands up talking about their schools collecting money to send to Haiti. Each girl talked about pictures they had seen on television, or their parents had shared with them in the paper. They spoke about their ministers or priests urge for generous donations for Haitian relief over weekend. I credit our parents, schools and churches with talking to these girls and giving them their boundless capacity for compassion.

I mentioned to them that Girl Scouts and Girl Guides are everywhere in the world, including Haiti. In that moment, you could see in their eyes that they could identify with their sister girl scouts. They were so moved that one of our girls suggested we just give all our money in our bank account to Haiti. However, there was some protest at that idea, and the girls had worked so hard to save up towards their goal, we came up with a compromise. We would donate the first $1000 of our cookie proceeds towards the Haitian relief effort. I told them that we'd essentially double our cookie selling goal to almost 3000 boxes. If we didn't make our goal, we might have to postpone our trip to Great Wolf Lodge one more year. They understood.

One of my girls put it very succinctly, "they need it more."

In the intervening time, we participated in the Cascade Bicycle Club Chilly Hilly bake sale and raised $310 towards our goal. Also during the Chilly Hilly, our girls helped out at the Squeaky Wheels Bicycle Club's chili feed. That event raised $1400 for the American Red Cross. Because of our participation in that event, the organizers have given us the honor of presenting that check to the ARC. Along with our $1000, our girls have helped raise $2400 for earthquake relief efforts.

So go ahead and complain about GS selling cookies. This is what building girls of courage, confidence and character looks like.

Balls of yarn

We had a Girl Scout meeting last night. The brownie who was running the content of our meeting had us turning skeins of yarn into balls of yarn so that we'd be prepared to teach preschool potential scouts how to make yarn dolls. You would be surprised how hard it is to efficiently turn skeins of yarn into balls of yarn.

I complained, "Every time I try to go fast, I drop my ball."

My daughter said, "I'm making them half fast."

What you need to know now is that when my 9 year old brownie girl scout said that, the other parent there and I both about dropped our balls. Say the phrase "half fast" out loud and you'll see what I mean.

Then I replayed what she said and very carefully inquired, "So you're making them half (pause) fast?"

She nodded and said, "yeah, but I still drop them."

The other parent there and I about fell over laughing but the rest of the girls had no idea why.

Tenses

Last week was Princess's birthday. For other parents out there, you know what this means. It is yet another event that you have to prepare for and really just hope you don't mess up. It means treats for her class, cake to be ordered, the kid choosing the menu for dinner, the birthday present, and planning for the party.

So my day went from busy to frenetic pdq. I started the day at 5am. I needed to get prepped for special birthday breakfast which Hubby thankfully woke up early to make. Turkey bacon, waffles, scrambled eggs with blue cheese, white cranberry peach juice, and milk: a feast fit for a Princess. After I got the family off to their places, Lil'T and I went to the grocery store to get a strawberry cake for dessert after dinner, and ice cream for Princess's class. Surprisingly, I was able to find the strawberry cake easily -- even in March with random acts of freezing weather happening outside. I couldn't find the orange vanilla cups she requested and settled for popsicles which had orange vanilla. I crossed my fingers that there wouldn't be too much disappointment. You never know what is going to set off the whining and much dreaded tears. Living with children is like living with crazy people. Add a birthday into the mix and the crazy only magnifies. Off to the school I went and dropped off the treats with the front office.

I only had until 2 pm to get the next big part of the day done. I was off to the sporting goods store to find a tetherball set. Princess had her heart set on one for her birthday. Then I went to Costco to get her favorite frozen lasagne. I try not to think of it as an insult to my cooking that she prefers frozen lasagne to my home cooking. I instead concentrated on how nice it was that I didn't have to cook on top of everything else.

Lil'T was starting to pumpkin out by the time we had checked out and asked to have a Costco slice of pizza for lunch. On a Thursday in the middle of the day, Costco is the busiest place on the planet. It was so crowded that we were stuck looking for some kind soul to share their table with us. I spotted a tata sitting by himself in the corner. He was wearing a baseball cap the way my dad always did, more like a hat than a cap. It was perched up there not fully pulled down, so he looked like his forehead must be at least 5 inches tall if the cap was touching the top of his head. I walked over to him and asked him if it would be okay for us to share his table. He kind of made an uncomfortable smile and pointed behind me where his wife was walking towards him with their drink cups. I said that it was just the two of us and his wife ultimately answered saying that it would be okay.

I sat down and could tell that Lil'T was not too sure about sitting with these strangers but somehow, that lady sure sounded familiar. I leaned over to T and said, "That lady sounds a lot like Lola, yeah?" That was all it took.

The woman asked me, "Pilipina?" I told her that I was and then it was all better.

We started talking about where we were from, what flavor of Filipino we were, and how at first the tata thought that I was Japanese. He actually tried to speak a little bit of Tagalog and Ilocano to me. Too bad I didn't know any.

And then it happened. The moment when I made a decision to lie a little bit.

Tata asked me, "Are your parents still in Hawaii?"

I sat there knowing that I could answer truthfully or in the way that I wish it were. I went with the latter.

"Yes, my parents live in Hawaii." Followed by all kinds of pronouncements in the wrong tense.

"No, my dad doesn't speak Tagalog, but he's learning Hawaiian."

"My dad's brothers and sister all live in Hawaii."

It was a nice chat. Maybe my kids' crazy is rubbing off on me. Just felt so natural to talk to them like my dad and my uncles who have died didn't. Why did these people need to know my private pain?

Then I jumped right back into the fast stream and raced Lil'T to school (about an hour late), went off to church to walk the kids to religious ed classes, delivered an order of cookies, and then raced off to Aikido where the dreaded whining and crying finally came because I couldn't find Princess' Aikido belt and she didn't want to walk into class without it, despite her sensei having dozens of white belts lying around because the kids test out of them all the time! Raced off to pick up Lil'T and then raced off to the ferry to pick up Hubby. Then it was back to Aikido where Princess had tested up to a yellow belt! Hurrah! Side benefit being that the lost white belt can stay lost. Then it was dinner, cake, ice cream, tetherball, birthday phone calls, and (praise God) bedtime.

It wasn't until later that I could process my conversation with the older Filipino couple at Costco. Somewhere in this world, there are 2 strangers who think that my dad and my uncles are still alive. I know that it is irrational and kind of strange. I'm not entirely sure why I didn't just speak truthfully. Maybe it was their familiar accented English that got me reminiscent and a little heart sick for home. There is a comfort that there are these strangers for whom I am a woman whose dad is still alive and he is still wondering about his next trip to visit the grand babies, still playing his uke and learning Hawaiian, still calling with his recipe for roast chicken. Still.

Fully Programmed

The Great Wolf Lodge sent us some marketing materials earlier this month. We went there for Spring Break the year they opened and I guess they've been missing our contributions to their bottom line. I more precisely should say that they sent the brochure to our 3 kids. It was a glossy full color one complete with word scramble, connect the dots, beautiful pictures of happy children who have parents that look good in swimsuits. Clearly all fantasy shots. But there was a fun little activity that our princess took to immediately. It was a picture of an empty suit case and the directions stated that you draw all the things you need to bring with you to the Great Wolf Lodge. Princess enlisted the help of her brother and Lil'T to figure out what to draw. I could figure out what most of the pictures were. There were 3 sets of bathing suits, a speedo which is the bird shaped drawing in the upper left corner supposedly for my husband. There was a sack lunch and a bottle of milk. There was one pillow. There was dog food, a stick, and even Holly in the suitcase. Tho I'm pretty sure Holly would object to being stuffed in a suitcase. There was one really puzzling picture that looked like a rectangular brush with a dark stripe down the middle.

Me: What's that?

Princess: Oh, that's the money you could be saving if you switched to Geico.

I don't know how I feel about that. I don't think I'll get nominated for parent of the year considering that my kids are so easily programmed. On the other hand, maybe I should switch to Geico. Then maybe we could afford a trip to the Great Wolf Lodge.

I blow you up ... BOOM

This past Saturday was Princess's First Communion. Pictures to follow provided that Hubby gets back from his business trip and remembers to offload his camera. I don't have a card reader for the behemoth memory cards on his SLR. Anyway, Princess was dressed in a sleeveless Cinderella pick up skirt tea length white satin gown. Her hair was up in a big pouffy bun (ala Carrie Bradshaw in Sex In the City) and she wore my handmade veil under it and a rhinestone/pearl tiara in the front. Around her neck she wore my mother's gold cross which Lola gave to her that morning. She wore brand new white shoes with 1.5 inch heels. By the end of mass, I was holding those heels while Princess ran around shoeless. To complete her ensemble, Princess wore white gloves that went up to her elbows. She looked like a real princess. She just needed a scepter and cape.

The kids were asked to be there at 3pm so that they could have their formal portraits taken. I took advantage of my early arrival to reserve seating for the 18 people who were going to be coming to witness Princess's First Communion. We had Lola, Uncle Dwight, who came from Hawaii, Uncle Norm, Aunty Bridget, Cousin Katie, who came over on the ferry, Uncle Davey, Aunty Jan, their kids Alex & Ashley 4 y.o. and Aidan 18 mos., Grams, Gramps, and Aunty Di who came from California. I went to my car and got out every piece of clothing I could find. Came out with a raincoat, hat, bandana, umbrella, paperback, and a bunch of Monopoly money that the now defunct dollar store used to give out as coupons. So I laid out said items and sprinkled a bunch of reserved signs made with the play money all over the pews. Then I waited.

Aside from a couple of snarky comments from people who came later and I told that I had reserved the 2.5 pews, people were pretty receptive to me having reserved the spots. To the one lady who exclaimed in disbelief, "3 pews!" I say, 'Chick, I was here for over 2 hours before you moseyed your way to get a seat so shut it. And peace be with you.' In my head of course.

Grandparents and our family took the front pew and the uncles, aunts and cousins took the 2nd. We had a couple of friends in the 3rd. It all worked out pretty well. Except for when the homily started.

The way the church is situated, the main lectern is on the left side of the altar (stage right). We happened to be seated in the first 3 rows of pews directly to the left of the lectern. We were pretty much spitting distance from our priest. So when the homily started, Fr. Emmett (who is a very sweet man) started talking about Pentecost -- a pretty big day in our faith -- celebrating the Holy Spirit's coming to the apostles and giving them the gift of tongues. One might argue that the Spirit was moving my 2 nephews and my niece. After all, are we not instructed to make a joyful NOISE unto the Lord?

So all during the homily, there were some gender clarifications: "Mommy, Alexander called me a boy. I'm not a boy. I'm a girl." There were also some threats of violence: "I blow you up. BOOM!" And general discontent voiced by the youngest of the 3: your basic baby cry. All this peppered by my brother and sister-in-law's desperate whispers of shush, put that down, don't touch that, quiet, etc. It gave me a major case of the church giggles. You know the kind where you can't laugh out loud but your body can't help but laugh so your shoulders start shaking up and down.

Hubby's sister Diane waited to see the famous church pinch that my mother used to deliver to us on a weekly basis. You know the kind right at the back of the arm on a nerve apparently connected to your voice box. One well placed pinch and you are effectively silenced for the remainder of the service. My mother wasn't sitting in the same row as the kids so only could give a stern look which was miserably ineffective. When asked why the pinches weren't delivered, she said simply, "I couldn't reach." She also hoped that nobody would notice the family resemblance and that she could pretend that those grand babies were not hers.

For his part, Fr. Emmett made every effort not to look in our direction. He truly is a soft touch. One can only hope that he didn't hear the ruckus, that he may have left his hearing aid out... but I suspect that everybody heard them. My friend Steve had arrived late to the service and was sitting clear across the church away from us. When we talked about what the kids were saying, Steve said, "That was you? I heard that."

For the rest of the visit with my brother and his family, our catch phrase was, "I blow you up ... BOOM!"

I can't wait to see them again. Even if I get blown up several times a day.

Play with your food

This morning for breakfast, I made some toast for Princess. While I made her and That's lunch, Princess ate her toast.

Princess: Mommy, look!

She held up her toast. She had nibbled off all of the crust.

Me: What am I looking at?

Princess: It's a guitar.

She took another bite.

Princess: Mommy, now look. It's a fishie. Here's its head and here's its tail.

Another bite.

Princess: Now it's a worm.

And one more bite.

Princess: Now it's a blob.

To me, it all looked like half eaten toast. Does that mean I'm getting old? It is nice to reconnect with 8 year old imagination. Who knew toast could be so versatile?

Mommy mouse crazy

Last night we had supper club. It was a fantastic meal with good company and great Sangria! (Thanks Deb and welcome to the club.) Anyway, those of you who have been to my house know that my mother is eternally ashamed of my lack of house keeping skills. I truly do suck at it. It isn't her fault. I'm just bad at it. I also live with 3 agents of chaos plus my husband. That is not to say that I am not a contributor to the clutter, but it is easier to blame it on them than on myself. Plus, I typically don't leave my legos, dolls and reams of artwork lying around the house. But I am getting off point. So this past week and especially Saturday, there was a lot of running around, cleaning up, and getting things ready for the dinner party.

I did a lot of errands yesterday. Princess had a birthday party at the Grand Forest and needed to be picked up at the park afterwards. I also had to get last minute ingredients for the fish tacos which were my contribution to the dinner. Along with prepping and cooking the meal, I had to pick up our babysitter who lives in the next town over. Oh what a day!

So this morning, I woke up to a day which was surprisingly beautiful. Sun was shining but this being Spring, there was still a little bit of chill in the air. I got out of bed and picked up the hoodie that I was wearing yesterday during all my errands. Don't tell me you've never done that -- grabbed something out of the dirty laundry saying to yourself, "What was I thinking to have put that in there..." So don't judge me. I went to the dining room which was looking sparkly clean and I sat to have a leisurely cup of coffee with my darling husband.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something on my left shoulder -- I thought that my hair must be blowing in the breeze. But wait -- I was inside the house. There was no flippin' breeze. WTF was that?!? I jumped out of my chair ran my fingers through my hair as fast as I could, pulled on the neck of my jacket and screamed, "Oh GOD!!! Oh GOD!!! There's something in my hair!!!" My husband was not compassionate at all but he did look through my hair. While I was on full freak out mode, my back turned towards him, he looked through my hair and yelled, "AAAAHHHHH!!!" in a completely believable panicky fashion. I jumped about 3 feet in the air and start tearing off my jacket and wildly swinging my head around to shake off the nasties in my hair. To which my husband just laughed uncontrollably. He told me that he couldn't resist scaring me. So he calmed me down and proceeded to look through my hair again.

This is what he said to me, "Honey, I don't see anything here. There's nothing here... Oh wait."

Oh. Wait.

Those two words sent me off the deep end again. Again with the screaming, the jumping up and down, the pulling at my clothes and shaking my head around. Meanwhile, my husband was doubled over laughing at me. He later told me that he sincerely thought that there was something there when he said, "Oh wait..." Unlike the panicked "AAAHHHHH!!!" from earlier, he was not just playing with me. He also said that the minute "oh wait," left his mouth, he knew the reaction it was going to get from me.

My sweet daughter came out from her room dressed for school and also refused to look for the bug in my hair. But she sat down in my seat at the table and within a few minutes screamed and ran from the table just like her mother. There was a inchworm on the seat next to hers. That inchworm was probably on my jacket from the previous day. That inchworm scared the bejeesus out of me.

Later, my husband told Princess,"Mommy went crazy. She went eating-your-babies crazy. Like if you were mice, she would have eaten you right up -- that's how crazy she went."

There are only a few times I've seen my husband laughing so hard that he couldn't breathe. This morning was one of them. Face all pink and almost falling on the floor.

I'm glad to have been of entertainment.

National Model Search

Please vote! It is $1 per vote for a very worthy charity. If she garners enough votes, she may be chosen to model at a local event for this charity on March 28. This would mess up our travel plans a little bit, but still, what a great opportunity for her. Thanks!

In Your Neighborhood

The goal of the Girl Scouts is to encourage the growth of women of courage, confidence and character. It is a hard goal to envision when you're out in the cold with a wagon full of cookies and your Brownie Girl Scout. She knocks on doors and rings doorbells and at first painfully and shyly chokes out the sentence, "would you like to buy some girl scout cookies?" You never know what will greet you when people answer the door. Some people annoyed will give a terse "no thank-you," while others will say that they've already purchased some. Then there are those who joyfully greet your scout and will even purchase a box just because she knocked on the door. Between each house, whether she makes a sale or not, you try to find the teachable moments -- about how to interact with people, how to ask the next question, how to allow people to refuse graciously, and how to represent Girl Scouts positively. It is a lot for an 8 year old to absorb.

But during this year's cookie sale, we had one of those experiences that I doubt she and I will ever forget.

Two Sundays ago, Princess and I went out with our wagon full of cookies. We stopped by every house on our street but by the time we reached the end of it, we still had most of our cookies. We decided to walk the next street over. It is a tucked away street with more trees than houses and some gorgeous views of the beach below. We hoped that we'd be successful. It being Sunday, Princess found most people at home and had some great conversations about Girl Scouts and cookies. We learned that back in the day, you could get a box of Trefoils for 35 cents! Lots of folk liked chatting with Princess about her favorite flavor of cookie and about how she likes being a Girl Scout. I watched my quiet and sometimes shy girl become gregarious -- she actually started skipping down the street to the next house.

Then she rang the doorbell to one house -- its yard was immaculate and you could see the beach from the deck. It was very quiet and I almost suggested that we move on because I thought that the occupants weren't home. But then an older gentleman opened the door. He seemed very tired. Princess asked him if he'd like to buy some cookies and he answered that he really didn't want to. That his wife was quite ill and he needed to return to her side. I called Princess back and told him that I hoped his wife would feel better soon. He said, "She's in hospice care." I told him that I was sorry to hear that and we exchanged good-byes.

As we left the driveway, Princess asked, "What is hospice?" I explained that his wife was dying. That she likely was very near the end of her life and that it must be a very hard time for her husband. Princess grew very pensive but continued the sale and by the next couple of houses was skipping again. We had only 2 boxes of cookies left by the time we decided to call it a day. As we neared the man's house on our walk back home, Princess asked me if there was something that she could do to help that man through this difficult time. She thought about maybe making a card but writing "Sorry your wife is dying," seemed strange. She also suggested that we bring the Girl Scout troop to his house and maybe sing a song for his wife. I thought that might be too intrusive. Then I looked at our cart of cookies and said, "We could give him a box of cookies. It might make him feel better."

Princess loved that idea. She grabbed a box of Dulce de Leche cookies -- the new flavor this year -- and in crayon on the side, I wrote a heart and her name. She added "GS," for girl scouts. Princess put the box on his doorstep and we walked on.

You would think that this is where the story ends. But this past Sunday, we were selling cookies at the local Safeway. We were surprised when our neighbor came up to us and asked, "Are you the Girl Scouts who left a box of cookies on my doorstep?"

He told us that his wife was still at home, but that it may be her last day. He said that he had been looking for us all week. He was so grateful for that little box of cookies when he found it the next morning. He told Princess that it really cheered him up. And because they were so delicious, he was going to buy a couple of boxes and that we should keep the change.

It was a small kind gesture, leaving that box of cookies on his doorstep. Princess displayed her great capacity for empathy.

Courage, confidence, & character. Check, check, & check.

Cutest Kid Contest

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep is a network of professional photographers who help families when they suffer the loss of an infant. They volunteer their time and materials to take pictures of the family so that they can remember the life that was lost. It is a compassionate program and I am going to enter my kids in The Cutest Kid Model Search contest -- a benefit for this organization. Please join me in supporting it. To enter, follow the link above. You'll be asked to donate $1 per vote.

Don't keep your kids out of the competition just because you know that in a throw down, my kids are cuter...

Been there

Shopping with kids guarantees that you will visit every bathroom of every store at least twice for any child who needs your assistance. Those that don't need your help will wait until everybody else has gone and then just as you are to leave a store, suddenly announce that he too needs to visit the restroom. This makes a shopping trip that should last only 30 minutes last about 2 hours. At least it feels like 2 hours.

Today we went to Costco and had lunch. I told the family that I was going to the bathroom and asked if anybody wanted to go with me. Nobody did. As is typical, upon my return, Lil'T and Princess both announced that they had to go.

I know this detailed account of our bathroom visits really isn't that interesting to read, but this post is not about us. It is about a mother with 2 kids, likely twins: a boy and girl around 4 years old. I put Teira on the potty when I heard this monologue from outside our stall.

"Libby, I'll just hold the door closed for you. Don't lock it. Your brother and I are waiting. Don't lock the door. I said no. (exasperated sigh after she discovered that Libby had indeed locked the door.) Okay, well hurry up, we're all waiting for you to be finished... Are you done? Libby, I asked if you're done. Well, if you're done, wipe yourself and pull up your pants. I said, pull up your pants. Okay, your brother has to go to the bathroom too. John, don't lock the door. Libby, what are you doing? OH GOD! GET UP OFF THE FLOOR! LIBBY! OH GROSS! GET UP OFF THAT FLOOR THIS INSTANT!!! JOHN, GET UP OFF THE FLOOR. OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!"

At this point she started panicking because she couldn't get the door open. Then kids' grandmother asked from outside the bathroom if everything was alright.

"MY KIDS ARE GOING PSYCHO! LIBBY! OPEN THE DOOR THIS INSTANT!"

This mom totally lost it as both her kids were lying on the bathroom floor of the Costco. (You may have the impulse to rub yourself all over with hand sanitizer. Go with that.) She started pounding on the bathroom stall door.

"LIBBY! OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!!!" *pound, pound pound* "OPEN THE DOOR! OPEN IT!" Repeat.

Lil'T and I had finished washing our hands so we waited for Princess outside. I didn't want that poor mom to be too embarrassed with us watching. You could tell she had tried to hold it together as much as possible but just couldn't handle both kids peeking out from under the bathroom stall doors. I know that I'd have gone over the edge if I found my kids lying down on the floor of the Costco bathroom. At least it was the ladies room. I've heard horror stories about mens rooms. Hubby says that the bathrooms on the WS Ferries are so filthy that he'd rather hang his butt over the side of the boat than go to the mens rooms. Then again, he may just be telling tales because he hates having to take Lil'T to the bathroom.

The kids must have opened the door because while we were waiting both kids bounced out of the bathroom and that poor mom had returned to normal. She even offered to help them get a drink of water from the fountain.

I'm sure she felt embarrassed, but she's got to know. We've all been there. Every mom of every little kid has been there. At least I have. She doesn't need to feel embarrassed.

In the car, my son was cracking up at the recounting of this mother's harrowing visit to the bathroom. He thought it was so disgusting for those kids to be lying on the floor of the bathroom. This from the same kid who when he was about 4 years old picked up the urinal cake out of the urinal and asked, "What's this?"

Yeah, that urinal cake. The one that everybody pees on. The one that my husband says every guy aims for. That urinal cake.

I didn't burn the boy or douse him in bleach. But I think I used up my entire bottle of hand sanitizer.

I had to rub it all over him and myself just to feel clean again.

Contributing to the delinquency of a minor

Yesterday evening was Princess's Ice Cream Social and Open House at school. I have been attending these events since 2002. Every year I say to myself, "Next year, I will not come at 6:30pm. I will not endure the craziness of the gymnasium with kids hepped up on ice cream and the noise levels nearing the sound of a jet planes." But every year, I forget. Every year, I get begged and cajoled into getting in the car at 6:15pm so we can be there just as they start. Every year, my kids are near the first in line. I'm there so early that there are still parking spaces in the lot. It's not right.

Hubby was late in Seattle so it was just me and the kids. After our cups of ice cream, we eagerly waited to check out all there was to see in Princess's classroom. She proudly showed me her papier-mache model of the island. She had watercolored an adorable sunshine-in-a-box project. I thought that was very clever. She also showed me her biography report that she made into a cube. I actually had seen that one before, but we got to take it home. And she also made a book about the world. Up on the bulletin boards were her letters to her penpal from across the island at another elementary school. Her letters from her Lola and her Grandpa were also posted. I had to adjust the growing-up and sent-from pins on the map. Lola's letter was erroneously placed on Lanai. Wrong island. I also put Grandpa's pin a little more south in California. They had him in the middle of the state. I don't even know what is there.

On the dry erase board, Miss B. wrote a list of things to remember to take home. It looked like this:

Things to take home:
*Map of the island
*Biography cube
*Sunshine-in-a-box
*Book of the world

My son and I read off the list and noted a missing item. You really should take home your child. We kind of giggled about that and then I said, "I dare you to write it." He hesitated a little, scanned the room quickly to see where the teacher was. I said, "I'll even keep lookout." He said, "Okay, where's the pen?"

So I stood between him and Miss B who was talking to another parent. Scrawled in kid writing instead of super precise teacher writing was one more starred item: *Your kid.

We sauntered away from it and waited for people to notice. It took a little while, but then somebody did notice and there were a couple of laughs and it was pointed out to other people who got a kick out of it. It would have been fun to see Miss B's reaction but she was too busy. I'm hoping that Princess will see it in the morning and come home with a story about it.

For those of you who knew me growing up, you know that I was so straight laced that my laces were practically sticks. So this little act was really no big deal. But I found this benign act of graffiti with my son to be so fun.

See, I know that my kids know that I love them. That much is evident. But stuff like this shared tiny joke does something more. It lets my son know that I like him.

I really do.

Tess and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

That title is directly from Judith Viorst's classic of a similar name. Just sub Alexander for Tess and you've got it. It was one of my favorite books as a kid. That and the story of Rikki Tikki Tembo Nosarembo Chari Bari Ruchi Pip Peri Pembo. I'm not sure if that is how that was spelled, but I've never forgotten that fictional character's name. He nearly died of pneumonia or drowning because his brother had to say that entire name when looking for help. Go look it up.

I was asked by my dear friend Julia to write this blog post because she has an unhealthy relationship to her keys. I think I'll have to blog on her key problem. It got so bad at one point that my husband suggested she gets one of those lanyards to wear around her neck and couple it with one of those key rings that clips to your belt. With two points of contact with her body, there would be a good chance that she could hold on to them. My situation on Wednesday filled her with a sick kind of redemptive joy. Oh well, here goes.

Hubby left very very early on Monday morning (4:30am wake up time) on a business trip to Houston. Before he left he asked me to go to bed at a reasonable hour. I've gotten a little addicted to Facebook. One of my friends manages to be online at 11pm my time so I end up chatting with her for an hour or so. Next thing you know, it is 1am and I need to get the kids up at 6:30am. This is just not good for my health. So told Hubby that I would try to get to bed on time. On Monday night, I found my friend online and managed to stay up until 2am my time. I was a bit of a wreck on Monday morning but managed to get the kids off to school and then I crawled back in bed with my youngest. I couldn't do that again.

When Hubby called to check in that day and asked when I got to bed, I told the truth. I certainly could have lied and said that I went to bed at 11pm like a good little girl, but I know he is wise in the ways of computers and can figure out exactly when I logged out. For all I know, he has my desktop mirrored on his Blackberry. So I vowed to go to bed at 10pm that night especially since I had an 8am appointment with my son's teacher for conferences on Wednesday morning.

Well, I did better but not 10pm better. I got to bed around midnight but was feeling pretty positive about that time. A good six and a half hours of sleep might just do the trick. That was until 1:30am when Lil'T decided that she didn't want to go potty and would instead prefer to whine a good long while. She also found it necessary to fight me picking her up out of bed to put her on the toilet. I finally got her back to bed by 2 am but because Hubby is out of town, I allowed her sister and her to sleep in my big bed with me. Big mistake. Lil'T kept complaining that her sister was too close. At one point, Princess was practically lying on top of me. That's when I kicked Lil'T out of bed. Around 2:30am. I lay there for what felt like hours before I decided to get out of bed and shop Ebay for a while. I finally got sleepy at 5am. Yeah, 1.5 hours before I had to get up again to get Princess to school. Plus I had to get dressed and ready for the conference.

In the book, Alexander woke up with gum in his hair. At least he had a good night's sleep. Having the conference at 8am meant waking Lil'T up at 7am. You wouldn't think that was a big deal but she normally wakes up at 8am. A 3 year old deprived of an hour of sleep whiny and clingy. Compounded with the fact that she's on antibiotics for a sinus infection. Way more opihi than normal. How wonderful to have to deal with her while That's teacher was telling me all the ways that he shouldn't have failed Art. Or Science. The boy disliked his Art teacher. I hear it is a common problem. But he shouldn't have totally blown off Art. Meanwhile he's acing Math. He failed Science because he missed the due dates for his project since we were in Hawaii. And instead of turning the project in, he just held on to it. OHN. So, he will be turning in the final project on Monday and hopefully the grades will be revised. No matter what I say, he won't deal with Art. He'd rather just fail.

Then I get a phone call from Julia. She'd had her car serviced and hoped that I could help her out. So I went to pick Julia up at her house, picked up Princess from the bus at our house and off we went. Since we were so close to the mall, I decided to see if Ross and TJ Maxx still had some of those formal white dresses they hauled out for the holidays. I just wasn't thinking 1st communion back in December. I'll remember when it is Lil'T's turn.

Anyway, because we were leaving the island, I let the kids use the DVD player in the car. Lil'T and That wanted to stay in the car and watch the DVD. I told them that they could provided they lock the car doors. I left them my cell phone in case they got harassed by anybody. Then my son could call the police or call the store for help. Plus, I was just going to pop in and out since Princess had a lot of homework to complete before Thursday.

After about 10 minutes in the store and seeing nothing but pink, yellow, peach and mint dresses, we were headed back to the car to leave. Just as we were leaving we saw That and Lil'T coming into the store. My son had to use the bathroom. Here is the exchange that followed.

Me: "Did you lock the car?"

Him: "Yes."

Me: "Okay, let me have the keys."

Him: "What keys? You never gave me the keys."

I ran out to the car and sure enough, he had locked every door. And he left the DVD player running so the car was on accessories power. At least the engine wasn't idling.

Remember, I had left him with my cellphone. He left that in the car too.

So I was stranded a good 17 miles away from my home. My husband was in Houston. And I only had 2 of my friends home phone numbers memorized. Who memorizes phone numbers anymore??? I didn't have enough loose change to make a phone call at the pay phone. Thankfully the TJ Maxx sales people rock and let me use their phone. I called both of them and neither was home. Panic. Then I called my husband on the off chance that he had one or the other's cell phone number. He had Julia's phone number. I hoped and prayed that she wouldn't screen the call. That she wouldn't see "TJ Maxx" on the caller ID and say, "meh, I won't answer." But perhaps the fact that she was driving at the time helped me out because she answered after only a couple of rings. She said that she could come out but she had to find a way to take care of her daughter who was at swimming lessons. I told her how to get into our house and asked her to bring every key that she saw because I had the Toyota keys there too. Wouldn't it have sucked if she got to me and brought the wrong car's keys? And she had to go back to her house and pick up her van because in case she had to jump start my car, she wanted to use the van.

So we shopped and waited. At some point I noticed that Lil'T was walking a little funny. I walked over to her and got hit in the face with that distinctive foul odor that all moms dread. I asked her, "did you poop in your pants?" She got all teary eyed and told me that she had. So I found a 5 pack of panties for $3.99. Yay for TJ Maxx once again. If it had been Nordstrom, I'd be paying at least $10 for one panty.

I tried to get by on the sly. I don't know why, but I didn't want to embarrass her and let all the shoppers at TJ Maxx know that Lil'T had an accident. The doctor told me that a lot of kids on the antibiotic get diarrhea. It is a very common side effect. Unpleasant, but common. So I go to purchase my pack of panties and Princess pipes up, "Mom, I think Lil'T pooped her pants." I swear she was yelling it at the top of her lungs, but I'm sure she wasn't. I just loved the looks I got (real or imagined) from the other people there. The checker cut the panty bag open for me and I was off the the handicap stall in the ladies room. It happened twice, but the second time with more histrionics from Lil'T. She was really upset. Clean up was aided by my quick thinking and a sanitary napkin in her underpants. When you're diaperless, you do what you can with what you have. Thankfully I had the pads. Can you imagine if I only had a tampon?

Could this day get any longer?

Julia showed up about an hour and a half after I called. I couldn't thank her enough. Luckily, my car started up no problem, even with the DVD player in perpetual menu mode as the movie had finished ages ago.

When we got home and finished eating our $0.89 burritos from Taco Bell because there was no way I was going to cook after all of that, I bathed T, showered myself and felt a whole lot better. Sadly, I still had to contend with Princess's homework. She was up a good 2 hours past her bedtime. Poor thing.

Oh well, everybody has days like these once in a while.

Even in Australia.

Birds and windows

The other day, Princess and I were talking about how sometimes birds will fly into our windows. There have been a few bird fatalities around our house because of wayward birds. Princess and I talked about ways we could prevent the birds from flying into our windows.

"Mommy, why do they fly into our windows in the first place? Did they want to come into the house?"

"No, I think they can see the reflection of the trees and sky in our windows so they don't think that they're going to hit anything but then they do." She chewed on that for a little bit.

"Oh, I know. We could put black paper up on all our windows because then they would only see black and then they wouldn't fly in our windows."

"Yeah, but I kind of like having light come in through our windows. Can you imagine just being able to see black all the time? It would be night all the time in our house."

"Well, maybe we could put signs up that said, 'don't fly here,' or 'danger: window."

"Good point. I don't know how well the birds would be able to see that though. I have heard of people putting stickers up on their windows. That can stop them."

So we made plans to get some decals to stick on our windows and save some bird lives.

"Hey Mommy, do you remember that time that a bird flew into our window. We thought it was dead but it turned out to be alive? You brought it in the house because you thought it was dead and then it jumped up and you let it outside."

"You're forgetting that he jumped up and pooped on my leg before I let it outside."

"I remember. But Mommy, poop is better than dead."

Poop is better than dead. Good point.

Beach party

The beach party was thrown by our neighbors at this little community where we own a small parcel of land. Really great people and darned good cooks. It was a little strange to be amongst these folks because for the most part, they're retirees. What was sweet was how they all doted on Lil'T. There are grandmas out there who can't help but feed and chat with little kids like her. It's been a long time since I've been one of the young ones at any function. The one other family who brought their children were older than us. One of them was driving the family car and the youngest had clearly gone through puberty.

There are days that I miss the beaches in Hawaii more than others. Today was one of those days. It was a perfect day for the beach. There was a cool breeze. The sun was shining. It must have been about 70 degrees out. Perfect.

But this was Dabob Bay on Hood Canal. These are not tropical waters.

Hubby decided to go for a dip in the water. Yeah, the water tends to be cold but usually, you can stand in it for a bit and you become adjusted to the temperature. This time however, he said after a good 15 minutes, it still felt like pins and needles all over his legs. Undeterred, he jumped in and swam to the floating dock. About half-way there, he thought only 2 things. 1. "Why am I doing this?" 2. "I think I might die." Too darned cold.

There was one funny moment at the beach though. Princess was standing behind me when I heard a scream of abject terror. I turned around to see Princess holding a slice watermelon with an investigating bumble bee on her hand. The bee had landed on her fingers. Princess had the sense not to move. She was trembling but reasonably still. Hubby shooed the bee away and Princess was a little shaken up but didn't get stung. We reassured her that the watermelon was just too yummy a treat and that she should not worry about the bees. I told her that the bee just wanted a sip of that sweet watermelon juice.

Lil'T had watched the whole event with fascination but what was priceless was how she looked at Princess, then looked at the slice of watermelon in her own hand. You could see the cogs turning in her head. Then she spun around looking over her shoulder both ways just to see if a bee was sneaking up on her.

Neither girl had another slice of watermelon for the rest of the day.