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Why is it that as a women, you get pegged a tom-boy or a girly girl.  This distinction gets assigned to you at a very early age and I don’t see why you can’t be both.  Most of the women I know and respect could easily fall into either camp at any moment.

I was at a party this weekend with three other couples and their kids, but Kevin could join me, so I was flying solo.  The A’s game was on.  I wanted to watch it which was shocking to all the men.  I like sports.  I like baseball.  I like football.  When I watch sports I like to drink beer.  Does that make me a tom-boy?

I take my coffee black, my drink of choice is tequila-soda and I am pretty sure there isn’t anything I can’t do.  Based on this I am a tough girl, right?

I also like pedicures, chick-flicks and cry every week when I watch Parenthood.  I love the way I feel when I put on a hot dress with four inch heels.  So I must be a girly?

This got me thinking about my sorority sisters.  If we are in a sorority we MUST be girly?  Except one of my sisters does triathlons (yes multiple), can drink most men under the table and manages to be an awesome mom while also traveling extensively for her job in a male dominated field.  I have sisters that are in the military, who are doctors and lawyers.  Very smart, strong confident women.  Then I remember how we all crammed ourselves in the bathroom to get ready for formal recruitment or how we popped a dozen bags of popcorn to watch Friends in the downstairs basement, or rocked out to Madonna during Spring Formal.  You all know who are and I love you!

We work hard, play sports and get sweaty.  We wear lipstick, skirts and stilettos.  Don't label us.  

Transformer

I can honestly say that Cara hasn’t changed much since she was born.  Sure, she is a LOT bigger, has a much larger vocabulary and can “do the Mickey Motion,” but her personality hasn’t changed much.  She has always been very expressive and silly.  She is stubborn and determined.  For better or worse she is loud, bossy and particular and I love all these things about her.  After all, she is my mini me J

Bri on the other hand has undergone huge personality transformations.  Just when I think I have got her pegged, she goes and does something unexpected.  Maybe that is her thing, to be unexpected.  When she was an infant she was quiet, still and observant.  She smiled a lot, but seldom laughed.  You got the impressions she was just taking everything in and quietly processing.

When she reached about six months, that all changed.  She was busy, very busy, too busy to be cuddled.  She was always moving.  This change was followed closely by an explosion of language.   At no point was I ever worried about her language development, but she certainly wasn’t the chatty Cathy Cara was at the same ages.  Suddenly she was racing around the house and carrying on about something or another.  Occasionally she would circle around for a drive-by hug, but anything beyond a momentary squeeze and I had a wiggle worm on my hands.  There were no weekend morning snuggles, if she was up she was moving.

I had come to expect this bustle of movement from her, that is until recently.  Just as suddenly as she took off, she slowed down.  Ironically it coincided with when she started walking which to me seemed a little counter-intuitive.  She is going through her separation anxiety phase and that is probably driving some of the recent change.  Now she wants to be held all the time, she will snuggle with me some mornings after her bottle.  She follows me around the house and sits or stands at my feet waiting to be picked up.  And when I do pick her up, her little body just melts into mine in a way that I can only describe as happiness.  I love it.

I expect she will continue to change when she realizes I am not the center of her universe, but until then I will relish the snuggles and peaceful time I have with her and appreciate the little girl she is growing up to be.

Momma Needs a Nap

I should preface this post, with This is mostly my own fault.  Over the last month weeks, I have been averaging less than six hours of sleep a night.  You might be tempted to blame the kids, but sadly it really isn’t their fault (At least not entirely).

I have been unusually busy.  We hosted a dinner party for some friends, who don’t have kids.  Which meant the house needed to be cleaned (well, at least the downstairs).  And because they don’t have kids, I felt especially compelled to make sure my house didn’t look like the dump/ToysRUs that is normally does.  Another night my sister took me out for my birthday, we went hat shopping which is really fun.  However, if you are anything like me, you must try on every hat in the store.  That takes a long time, which means getting home late.  Then I had to stay and work late one night.  Another day we hosted a birthday party for Bri.  Can you believe she is one!?!  Went to New York for a week = kids off sleep schedule = less sleep for me.  You get the idea.

 

I also recently went off caffeine.  Why would a reasonably sane person do that you ask?  Over the last couple of months I have noticed that more often than not, I didn’t feel well.  I was getting frequent nausea, stomach aches and all around unpleasantness.  I chalked it up to postpartum hormones or nursing.   But when I really started paying attention, I realized I only felt sick when I drank coffee.  Hopped on Google and WebMB and realized caffeine intolerance is really common and super unfortunate.  BUMMER!

In any event, there has been a lot going on.  Now add to that new fall premiers (this is where it becomes 100% my fault).  I haven’t been up to 12:30 every night with kids or work or dinner parties. I have been watching X-Factor, The Voice and Dancing with the Starts.  Last Tuesday I DVR’d seven things, SEVEN!  I am embarrassed and a bit ashamed to admit that, but it is true.  What’s worse is that most shows haven’t even premiered yet.  At least with a DVR I can get through three hours of competition programming in about 45 minutes, but still, no excuses.

I probably won’t change my behavior, so I guess I will just need to channel my inner college-student, forego sleep and try my best to get through the fall season.  Hopefully the kiddos will let me squeeze in a nap every now and again and maybe sleep in till 8a on the weekends every once in a while.  Doubtful.

Thoughts From A Non Medalist

Every four years, the entire world gets a reminder of how inadequate we are; it is called the Olympics.  We watch, we cheer, we are happy when our team wins and sad when they lose.  But ultimately, we realize we had nothing to do with their success and will never measure up. 

I remember when I was a girl feeling very sad the first time I realized I would never be an Olympian, I was heartbroken (for as long as an eight year old pays attention to anything).  Now that I am an adult, I look at all these athletes, most of whom are younger than me and know I missed my ‘window’.  However, I don’t feel sad for my loss, but theirs.  I listen to 15 year old medalists say they have worked their entire life for that moment.  Their entire life! Can you imagine dedicating your entire childhood to a sport where you get one chance to be the greatest and peek at the age of 16?  No thank you.

I am pretty sure no one is ever going to give me a medal for anything, but I am pretty good at a lot of things. And more than that, I had the opportunity to experience a lot of things.  As a kid I played softball and swimming.  Took dance and art classes.  Dressed up and played pretend.  Went to Disneyland on summer vacation.  Camped at the lake.  Was in the band, the school play and hung out with my friends.  I did stuff.  Lots of stuff.

In college I went to football games, joined a sorority, and participated in student government.  I stayed out late, slept in late and occasionally dragged my butt to the gym.  I had a lot of fun not being a world class athlete.

Maybe I am trying to validate my choices in life or justify why I can sit on the couch eating pretzels while the best athletes in the word leave it all in the pool, gym or stadium.  Whatever the case may be, I appreciate what I have and wouldn’t trade all those experiences for a gold medal and all you have to give up to get one.  I respect the talented athletes who do make those choices.  I have thoroughly enjoyed watching them compete.  They may even have motivated me to hit the gym a little harder, but I certainly don’t feel like I am missing out.

Reflection

I am quickly approaching a milestone birthday this weekend, and as I reflect on the last decade I can’t help but think of all the amazing things I have done, people I have met and achievements I have earned.

In the spring of 2003 two important things happened: I graduated from college and made the decision to attend Syracuse to earn a masters.  At the advice of my guidance counselor I chose Syracuse over American University and Boston University, a choice that led me to the love of my live and events I could never have imagined.

That winter I met this guy….online.  This was before meeting people online was normal.  We hit it off and then one day he asked if we should meet.  Before leaving, I made sure people knew where I was going and would call to check on me, off I went.  I knocked on the door and this extremely tall guy wearing yellow warm up pants (you know, the kind that unzip at the knee) and a faded Syracuse basketball T-shirt answered the door. Unimpressive.  We watched Bull Durham, drank Yuengling and talked late into the night.  Two years later I married that guy.

After grad school, I moved back to California, driving 3,000 miles with my then boyfriend through about 10 states in less than four days.    If that isn’t a test of compatibility, then I don’t know what is.  We visited such national treasures as Little America, WY (home of the 10¢ soft serve and the only bathroom for 400 miles), a monument erected in honor of Buffalo Bill Cody and a classic car road race pit stop in Elko, NV.  We arrived in California the day before the Fourth of July.  The following day we took the ferry to Pac Bell park on a beautiful sunny day in San Francisco to watch the A’s play the Giants.  I don’t remember if the A’s won or not, I just remember being very happy.

Shortly thereafter we got jobs, there was a proposal, and a wedding.  We moved into our first apartment in Oakland.  I remember a friend from grad school recommending to me that I don’t get killed when I told her we were moving to Oakland, advice heeded.  We stayed in Oakland for three years which included many trips to the farmers market and Colonial Donuts on Saturdays, a tiny Mexican restaurant on the other side of Lake Merritt for the best mole I have ever had and the discovery of Kamakura in Alameda, still my favorite sushi place.

In May of 2008 as we sat by the pool at a resort in the Dominican Republic listening to Bocelli, we started to talk about baby names for when we had kids; Carol Ann if we had a girl, Connor James if it was a boy.  This was of course after my husband had only half-jokingly threw out George Washington as an option. Nope.  A year later, we brought beautiful Carol Ann home from the hospital.

After I got pregnant, we looked around our little apartment and tried to figure out how we could make it work with a baby.  We couldn’t.  We weighed the merits of being closer to work, versus closer to family. Proximity toamily was the right choice.  We bought a house near my parents.  At the time I couldn’t possibly imagine how we would fill it.  Now, I sometimes wonder if we shouldn’t have perhaps got a bigger house.  A few years later we brought Brianna Michelle home from the hospital to complete our family.

The last ten years have brought me as far north as Hadrian’s Wall and as far south as the jungles of the Dominican Republic.  I have changed my name, brought two amazing people into the world and hopefully have made a positive difference. I can only hope that the next ten years are as blessed as the last and can’t wait to see what happens next.

Staying at Home is Too Hard

I often joke that being a stay at home mom would be a hell of a lot harder than my job.  The reality is, it isn’t a joke, it’s 100% true.  I have several friends who are stay at home moms, I have so much respect for them, I don’t know how they do it.  I love my kids, more than anything else in the world, BUT I cannot imagine my life revolving completely around them 24 hour a day, seven days a week.  I would go batty.

I took four months maternity leave when I had Cara, after about two and a half I was itching to go back.  I love her and loved being home with her.  But I also loved my independence, my interaction with other adults, the opportunity to use the toilet, by myself.  When I went back to work I was a wreck. I think I cried for a week.  I was sad about leaving her, and selfishly, I think I was sad I might miss something.  That didn’t mean I wasn’t glad to be working.

Over time, I realized that Cara actually loved going to daycare.  Her friends were there; she was learning a lot and probably was allowed to make bigger messes than I would permit at home.  Occasionally, she would go through phases where she would make a fuss when I dropped her off, but she was all smiles and didn’t want to leave in the afternoon.  It got to the point when we dropped her off that she would run off to play with her friends with no thought to saying goodbye.

When I had Bri, I took another four months.  This time was different, this time I had two.  Holy crap two is hard.  We sent Cara to daycare two days a week; I looked forward to those days like Christmas.  That sounds awful I know, but anyone who has had a two-year-old and an infant can tell you, the two-year-old doesn’t care that you have an infant.  And the infant couldn’t be bothered with the two-year-old. 

I was grateful for Gymboree and our Oakland Zoo membership; we spent a lot of time at both.  Because of the demands of a newborn, I also allowed Cara to watch more TV than I otherwise would have thought appropriate. (Bad habits are hard to break and we are just now getting back into a TV off rhythm)  I schlepped them on errands and lunches. I worked around them as installed new flooring.  We made frequent trips to the park, signed up for swim lessons.  I was running out of ideas and sanity.  How do stay-at-home parents find stuff to entertain kids day after day?

Despite the craziness, I think I was more anxious about going back to work the second time.  I don’t think it was because I was worried about Bri.  I knew she was going to be loved and well looked after.  This time, I think it was mostly me being selfish.  I know now how fast they grow up.  I knew that I would miss stuff not that I might and that tore me apart.  For the month leading up to my return to work, I couldn’t sleep.  I would lay in bed for hours every night thinking about it.

I went back to work on a Thursday.  We dropped the two girls off, my eyes got a little misty, I gave them both kisses and off I went.  I didn’t cry.  For a few days, I felt bad that I didn’t cry, as if I should have to validate my anxiety or demonstrate how hard it is to say goodbye each morning.  I realize, I love my kids, I love working and for me personally, I am a better mom for it.

It's Mom Now

When I look at Carol, I see my little baby girl.  If what my mom says is true, I will always see my baby girl even when she goes off and has kids of her own.  I didn’t expect to be mommy forever, but thought I might get a couple more years out of her.  Unfortunately, on her third birthday Carol decided she was too mature for mommy, and is just Mom now.

I don’t know if it was merely a coincidence or if something biological clicked exactly on Carol’s third birthday.  We had decided in advance to ride the train a few stops and get pizza for lunch.  We thought rightly that she would get a kick out of riding the train, even though it would have been much easier to drive. As we were prepping to go everything was “Yes Mom,” “No Mom,” “ Come on Mom.”  Kevin laughed at my new name until we went to the front yard and she said, “I’ll get the paper Dad.”  Hmm.

She loved riding the train; everything from waiting on the platform and waving to the train operator to plotting our course on the map inside.  She exhibited so much joy and excitement over every aspect of the experience, whereas it is something I do every day and has lost its luster.  However, even in her childish excitement, she continued to call us Mom and Dad, this made me sad.

Getting her nails done

Since then, there have been moments when she reverts to Mommy, like when she is tired, scared or hurt.  But for the other 99%  of the time, Mom.  I can’t help but wonder if her decision to switch will cause Bri to make the switch earlier (Bri can’t even talk yet).  I hope not.  This makes me think of when I was about seven or eight and I told my little sister Sesame Street was stupid.  She stopped watching.  My mom was mad.  I wasn’t trying to be mean; I just thought I knew better.  I guess I should resign to whatever will, happen will happen, but I can still not like it.

Since then she has demonstrated her new found maturity in my ways.  Just this morning she commented, “I’m not a baby, I’m a big girl.”  Mind you, this was after she woke up in the middle of the night upset about something or another and spent the rest of the night in our bed.  We are in the middle of potty training and on Sunday she proceeded to tell me: “You drive me crazy,“ “Leave me alone,” and “Mom, you go to time out.”  Yikes!  If only it didn’t sound so absolutely hilarious coming from her, it would be upsetting.

I realize she is just trying to assert herself and demonstrate control over her life and choices, this is normal.  All my other mom friends say the exact same thing.  Even so, couldn’t I just have Mommy for another few years?

Sisters



Can you guess who's who?

When I was pregnant with Cara I had no notion of what she would look like, what she would be like.  When I was pregnant with Bri, I couldn’t picture anything different than Cara.  This was especially true when I learned Bri was a girl and even more so when I saw the ultrasound.  Even in-utero, Bri had the exact same profile as Cara.  Apparently my cheeks are a dominate gene.


When Bri was born, she so closely resembled Cara, for the first couple weeks my husband and I both kept calling her by her sister’s name.  Fortunately she didn’t seem to mind.  There is still no denying they are sisters, but Bri is certainly coming into her own.

Carol is outgoing and stubborn.  She didn’t roll over until 8 months, she didn’t really crawl either, never cruised, scooted or pulled up, all the things the books say most babies do; she couldn’t be bothered.  She was a tall baby so most things were within reach wherever she sat and anything else could be brought to her as far as she was concerned.  And then one day at almost 13 months, she just got up and walked.  I remember, I was on the phone and she decided that she had had enough and just did it.  Unfortunately, potty training is going similarly and she hasn’t decided yet that she wants to use the toilet.  She babbled a lot; said her first word at 7 or 8 months (and hasn’t stopped talking since).   She thought everything was hilarious and handed out big laughs liberally.

Bri, on the other hand is calculated and quiet.   She might also be the happiest baby I have ever met.  She smiles ALL the time.  People ask me if she is always so happy, yes, yes she is.  BUT, she rarely laughs.  You have really got to work for the tiniest giggle.  She is content to sit back and take everything in.  She isn’t a big babbler.  She is just now starting to try sounds, but forget getting her to do it on cue.  She also hit all the physical miles stones exactly when the books said she should; rolled over at ~ three months, crawled at ~ seven months, I am sure walking will follow soon enough.

Food is another area where they are very different.  Cara was and is very picky.  Even as a baby, there were certain foods (mostly vegetables) that she would not eat and half of every meal ended up on her bib or face.  When we took her off the bottle at 14 months, she refused to drink milk.  It wasn’t until about six to eight months later when I bought this random straw cups out of desperation that she deemed them acceptable for milk.  Her repertoire of food is very limited. And for some reason, she will eat all kinds of foods at daycare that she won’t eat for me.

Bri, on the other had will eat anything.  She would eat the phone book if I gave it to her.  Every time I try a new food she gobbles it up like it is her favorite.  She is also a big eater, I found that I had to give her two containers of baby food at a sitting just to keep up with her appetite, which is ironic, because she is so skinny.  Everything ends up in her tummy, I think she would like the bib if any remnants ended up there.  We just introduced Cheerios and you would think they have some addictive property by watching her eat them.

Over the next year, I am sure we will learn a lot more about Bri’s personality.  I am already blown away as to how much she already exhibits.  The one thing I am sure of, is that she is not her sister and everything I learned or thought I knew about being Carol’s mom might as well be last season’s fashions, because it probably won’t work.

Return of the Birthday Cake

Last year it was Elmo, this year princesses.  We celebrated Carol’s third birthday last weekend and the goal, a cake that hopefully resembled a castle.

As of a week ago, I had not planned, purchased or cleaned a single thing in preparation for the party.  I had only sent out invitations, so I was committed.  I started brainstorming cake ideas with some friends and decided I would either do a princess or a castle cake.  I had scanned pictures of both on the internet and neither looked that difficult.  Carol is in love with the iconic Disney castle, so we decided that was the way to go.

The party was Saturday, so I took Friday off.  I had a lot of work to do, but I still hoped to sleep in, just a little.  At 6am Carol (not Brianna) was up, bright eyed and bushy tailed.  What!?!  The same kid I have to drag out of bed at 7am most days and lounges in bed until 8am on the weekends.  Okay, I’m up.

After grabbing some coffee I get the kids off to daycare and start working.  The castle was two tiers (never done a multi-tiered cake).  I used a 9x13 Pyrex for the bottom tier, a 5x11 for the top and cupcakes for the turrets.  After whipping up two boxes of cake mix and dying them pink (only required ~5 drops of dye – see how ElmoBecame Red) I popped all three pans in the oven and waited.  Thirty minutes later, I had cake, a lot of cake.

I had purchased two cans of frosting, that morning as I went about my errands I grabbed one more just in case. (This is foreshadowing..can you just feel the suspense)  Got ice, balloons, plates, I was ready to party.

After letting the cakes cool for several hours on the counter, the carving commenced.  I cut the 9x13 in half and stacked it.  No problems.  Then I started frosting and it came crumbling down, the cake was still too warm.  After several failed attempts, I popped some frosting in the microwave and warmed it to the point where I could drizzle it on and seal the crumbs in.  I trimmed and stacked the 5x11 and used the same approach to ice it and put everything in the refrigerator to harden.  At this point, I am down about 1 ½ cans of frosting.

A few hours later, I pull everything out to do the top coat on the cake, the cupcake turrets and used the remaining cupcakes to make some shrubbery. (Finally got a chance to use my green food coloring!)  The bad news was that I was out of frosting and hadn’t done any of the decorating.  It was also about 5 pm and I had to pick the kids up from daycare.  So much for getting the cake done.

I swing by the grocery store before getting the kids and they have a new pink lemonade frosting!  Jackpot!  After the earlier issues, I grabbed two cans, just in case.  That night, one more can and a few dozen toothpicks later, we have a castle.

The party was fun, Carol had a great time and the cake was delicious.  I wonder what Carol’s thing-of-the-moment that I can epitomize on a cake will be next year.  In any event, I am sure a harrowing tale will accompany the creation. 

15 Minutes with Xfinity, I mean Comcast...Whatever

In the second installment of my rant series I tackle Xfinity.  (On a side note, what the hell is Xfinity anyway.  Either own it or not Comcast, but stop trying to confuse the hell out people.)

My mission: Cancel my appointment for a home security consultation tomorrow.

I visit Xfinity.com to find the number for home security, there is absolutely no link or mention of that service on the home page (Strike 1).  I search Google and get a link, the URL is Comcast.com/something or another (Strike 2, Comcast?  I thought this was Xfinity?)  I deep link about three pages and find a number: 800-Xfinity (3, this is clearly going to add up quick.  I intend to sum the strikes at the conclusion of each of the proceeding paragraphs).

The call begins as follows: “For business press 1, for other press 2.”  Press 2.  “I didn’t get that, for business press 1 for other press 2.”  Press and hold 2.  “For Cable press 1 for other press 2.”  Press 2.  “I didn’t get that, for Cable press 1, for other press 2.”  Press and hold 2.  “Transferring your call…beep, boop, beep bop.”  (2 strikes + 1 extra for being really annoying).

I am shocked to find they are experiences longer than normal wait times.   Several minutes later a customer service rep answers and asks for my name, address and last four of my social before ever asking me what I need.  Finally I tell her and she doesn’t seem to understand what I am saying (as if she isn’t aware of the product; she probably isn’t) Finally, I think she realized she couldn’t help me and said she didn’t see any appointment and transferred me to sales.  A complete, make it someone else’s problem move. (4 strikes)

Sales answers, and I am asked if I am a Comcast employee or a customer.  Really, they can’t pass along that info?  Next time, I am saying I am an employee, just to see what happens.  I explain that I need to cancel an appointment.  He asks for all the same info as the rep.  Guess they can’t pass along that either when they transfer a call.  He doesn’t see an appointment, thinks it is probably recorded in another system and can’t help me.  Transfers to Home Security division, but not before I suggest that perhaps it would be better if I could have just called Home Security to begin with. (5 strikes)

Home Security answers, I give them my info, again.  No appointment in their system.  At this point, I inform them that I have wasted 15 minutes to do them the courtesy of cancelling an appointment in advance and they don’t even see it.  Next time I won’t bother.  I also let them know that if someone shows up tomorrow, I will not be answering the door.  Click. (2 Strikes + an extra 5 for never finding my appointment to begin with.

So, all total, a 15 minute call with Comcast racked up 22 strikes (albeit 6 discretionary).  I find it ironic that their latest ad campaign centers on customer service and satisfaction.  I love the ads, they are hilarious, but they don’t make me feel warm and fuzzy about Comcast.  If anything, they just piss me off because they are paying for those ads with the margin they get off my cable bill and they lie.  FAIL!

This is a BART Public Service Annoucment

This is a public service announcement.  Please refer to this guide when you are considering questionable activity on BART.  This is sure to rub some people the wrong way, but you know what, all these things rub me the wrong way.  If you don’t like it, start your own blog. (Feeling kinda snarky right now)

Please DO NOT, brush your hair, pluck your eye brows, floss your teeth or clip your nails.  If this were a game, your goal would be to not leave any biological evidence that you were ever on the train. 

If you are listening to your music so loud I can make out the lyrics, even if you are using headphones, it is safe to assume I do not share your taste in music and respectfully ask that you turn that noise down.   

Please DO NOT pick your ring tone on the train.  If someone calls you, I am sure your current ring tone will do a great job of alerting you to the call.  And on that point, if you have an obnoxious ring tone, please pick up your phone immediately; do not look around like you are trying to play it off on someone else.  You aren’t fooling anyone. 

Please DO shower before boarding, and if you choose not to, don’t give everyone the evil eye when they move away from you.  You stink and you know it. 

I am not a pillow, please DO NOT fall asleep on me.  

We don’t live in the animal kingdom, obnoxious repetitive sounds are not endearing.  This includes but is not limited to: popping your gum, clicking or sucking noises with your tongue, lips or teeth, snapping or tapping. 

Please DO NOT stand on the left side of the escalators.  And if you do, expect to get run over and yelled at. 

If you insist on sitting in the outer seat of a row, please DO stand up and get out to let the person on the inside out.  You chose to sit there, moving your knees slightly to either side doesn’t cut it.  AND if you won’t stand up, DO NOT get pissed when you get whacked in the head by someone’s bag as they try to climb over you. 

People with large backpacks or accessories, please DO be aware of the space occupied by your carry on, no one appreciates getting knocked over because you found it necessary to take your whole life with you (I am so guilty of this one). 

Women traveling in groups, please do us all a favor and use your normal voice instead of the women traveling in groups voice.  Ever notice, the more women in the group, the higher the octave. 

For men traveling in pairs, you are probably not as important as you think are, and your buddy that you are trying to prove it to knows you’re completely full of it. 

And finally, just use common sense, nobody actually wants to be on BART, it is just a necessary evil of living in the Bay Area and beats getting stuck in (insert bridge or freeway here) traffic. 

Thank you, that is all.  Train Operators please disconnec......

Disney: The Aftermath

The Winners: Goofy’s Go-Gadget Coaster, Tea Cups (the spinnnier the better), Carousel, Dumbo, Astro Orbiter, Trains (all of them)

The coaster was the biggest hit of all.  As the roller coaster pulled back into the loading area, Cara lifted both fists in the air like Rocky at the top of the steps proclaiming,” Yeah!”  A freeze-frame moment if I ever saw one.

Tea Cups were a respectable first runner up.  We rode them twice, the second time without daddy (who gets motion sick) and we really got the cup spinning.  She was grinning and giggling so loud, it was reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat.

The Losers: Peter Pan, Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, basically anything dark

The first ride we did was Peter Pan, no more than 30 seconds in, she was in tears, scared of the dark and begging us to get off.  Oops.  A few rides later, she indicated that she wanted to go on Mr. Toad, same thing.  We should have known better, but we let her talk us into it.  After that, we avoided Snow White and Pinocchio.

What I learned

Disney must release a crack-like vapor into the air, only effective on children under ten that keeps them at an energy level well above the normal range.  However, the minute you are off the premises, and out of the vapors range, you child will crash, hard, like within 30 seconds.

If you have a daughter, be prepared to wait in line for at least an hour, to spend less than ten minutes taking pictures of the princesses and you own precious princess with a grumpy face.

Weight training is advised in advance of your trip, four days later and my legs and arms are still burning from lugging around 40lbs of kid for several miles over two days.  (And I think I am in fairly decent shape)

Hedging our bets and going on week days paid off.  Week days equals shorter lines, which equals happy kid, which equals happy mommy.  ALSO, get there when they open, your kid is already going to be up, so you might as well capitalize on that time.  We covered all of Tomorrow Land in just over an hour, very efficient.

The biggest take away though was that despite the aches and lack of sleep, the experience brought so much joy to my daughter and I can’t wait to do it again when Bri is old enough.

Taking our princess to Disneyland

At the end of this month, my baby turns three, THREE! And to celebrate we are taking her on a special Mommy, Daddy, Cara trip to Disneyland. I am not sure who is more excited, her or us.

Over the last six months, she has adopted all things Disney as her new favorite pastime.  The excitement she exhibits when she see the iconic castle appear before a movie is just about the cutest thing you have ever seen.  She obsesses over Princess Aurora, Ariel and Belle.  She talks non-stop about the “Bad Lady” from 101 Dalmatians and even convinced us to go see the ‘cowboy’ at Toy Story on Ice.  Disneyland is going to blow her mind.

In preparation, I have done some reading on how to prepare for a trip to Disneyland with young kids, booked the hotel, downloaded the aps, I will be going to the store this weekend to stock up on travel snacks, light sticks and other sundry supplies.  I haven’t however bought the tickets, perhaps I should get on that.

 Meanwhile, Bri is going to spend some quality time with grandma and grandpa.  This is going to be the first time I have left Bri for more than 12 hours since the day she was born.  I am conflicted over being so excited about the time I will get to spend with Cara, and how much I am going to miss Bri.  Logically, I know Bri is going to be fine.  I mean, my sister and I managed to make it successfully to adulthood didn’t we?  Plus, I have written painfully detailed notes and portioned out all of Bri’s food with labels (if you know me, you know this isn’t an exaggeration).

Pictures to come after our adventure, in the meantime, I have got to get ready!

Dinner at My House

Is picky eating genetic? My sample indicates: yes.

When I met Kevin he ate 3 things: steak, chicken and pizza.  That’s it.  When I would recommend other foods he would brush them off with some smart ass remark of judgment, without ever having tried it.  Inevitably, he would find himself in a situation where he would have to try the food in question and low and behold, it is his new favorite.  My mother-in-law has told me stories of how he wouldn’t eat anything as a child, or he would only eat green food and that she thought he was going to waste away.  I am inclined to believe her. 

Now I find myself in a similar situation, although not as extreme, I have a picky eater on my hands.  And what’s worse is that she is only picky for me.  I image her repertoire of acceptable foods is akin to what most two-year-old prefer: pizza, chicken strips, quesadillas, peanut butter sandwiches.  She is also great when it comes to fruit and yogurt (big nutritional wins). Unfortunately, that is about all I can get her to eat.  That said, when I pick her up from daycare, I hear about how she ate chicken adobo or asked for seconds of cucumber and carrots.  WHAT!?!  My kids?   

I try not to take it personally, but I definitely get frustrated on nights when I make a nice dinner and it just sits on her plate until she dumps it all in the sink when we are not looking.  I have also noticed that when she is trying something new and doesn’t like it, she will leave it in her mouth, FOR HOURS, until someone suggests to her that she spit it out.  This almost bothers me more than the not eating because it presents a choking hazard.

Before Kevin and I had kids, we understood that they, in all likelihood, would be strong-willed.  We are both incredibly stubborn and a push-over wouldn’t last two seconds in our house.  I guess if she had to pick one thing to be stubborn about, food isn’t the worst.  And she probably isn’t that different than most two year olds.  What I don’t understand is, why does she save that lovely behavior just for me?

One Moment While I Soap Box

Everyone is aware of diabetes, but I realize, very few actually know what it is.  So humor me a moment, while I climb up on my soap box and give you a crash course.

There are multiple type of diabetes and no one is worse than another.  Type 1 means your pancreas, an organ that produces the hormone insulin doesn’t work and it is managed by injecting insulin.  The role of insulin is to convert the sugar (carbs) in your bloodstream into energy that your body can use.  Sugar enters the blood stream from food and the sugar your liver naturally produces.  Yes shots hurts, but not much.  Yes, I can eat that cookie (as long as I take insulin) so don't police me.  No, it is not hereditary and there is nothing I can do to get rid of it.

Type 2 means that your pancreas does produce insulin, but that your body isn’t very efficient in how it processes it.  Type 2 is the most common accounting for roughly 95% of people with diabetes.  Type 2 is often heredity and is exacerbated by excess weight, age, poor diet or even pregnancy (aka - gestational diabetes).  The good news for Type 2 is that it can often be managed (effectively reversed) without medication through diet and exercise.  The bad news is that people with Type 2 must be militant about their health and what they eat if they are serious about getting rid of their diabetes.  That means no cookies or soda and yes to whole grains and gym memberships.   In some cases people need to take pills or insulin to manage the disease.

It doesn’t have to be a death sentence, but you do have to be careful about what you eat and I believe someday there will be a cure.  Until then, I am riding in the American Diabetes Association’s Tour de Cure in Napa to raise money for diabetes research.  If you would like to support me, please click here.

Thanks again for humoring me and if you want to know more, all you have to do is ask, I could go on for days J

"Messy Messy!"

My mom told me that as a baby, she could put me on a blanket in the middle of the grass and it might as well have had an electric fence around it.  I would not leave that blanket; I would not touch that grass.  I wouldn’t play in the dirt of the mud, my clothes were always immaculate.  You would think those types of aversions are a learned behavior, but starting at a very young age, I saw those tendencies in my daughter.  Apparently they are genetic; she is definitely my kid.

She will not leave the blanket
(@ 9 Months)

She is not one to dump the spaghetti over her head at dinner time.  Starting around 18 months, when she got food on her hands, arms or clothes, she would start panicking and yell “messy, messy.”  She uses a napkin to wipe her hands and face during and after meals.  She will even often wipe down the table (i.e. push the spilled food around until is covers an even larger area).

With Melody
(@ 13 Months)

She LOVES to swim, but as a child after my own heart, she prefers chlorinated pools to sandy beaches.  On the occasions we have been at a beach or a place with sand, she asks to be carried until we reach the water.  But really, can you blame her, sand is gross.  

She is extremely particular about her clothing.  Shortly after turning two, we let her start picking out her own outfits; it was easier than battling the alternative.  She is especially picky about her socks.  Either end of the seam of the sock must not touch the side of the toe.  The entirety of the seam must be on the top of her foot, otherwise, tears.  Seriously. When we put her in the car seat, if her shirt or jacket is bunched in the back, tears.  If the cuff of her pants or shirt is not exactly as it should be, tears.  If her sleeves are rolled up…you get the idea.

I am so glad (said sarcastically) I have passed on my OCD tendencies to my child.  I wish I could be mad when she goes nuts about something trivial, but usually I agree with her.

Afternoon at the Ice Capades

This weekend we took Cara to see Toy Story 3 on Ice officially completing our requirements to join the order of full-fledged parenthood. I was on the fence about going, Kevin was really leading the charge. I thought she might still be too young, that she wouldn't sit through it, that she might get scared. My mom’s advice was to go. She reasoned that one of two things would happen: Cara would love it, in which case, great, or she wouldn't and I would be right. My mom knows how much I like to be right. Here is my ‘in-depth’ analysis of the afternoon.

Pro – It started on time, promptly at 11am

Con – It was about an hour and fifteen minutes too long. Not sure what genius thought a program for children needed to go on for 2+ hours. By the end there were about 5,000 kids on the verge of a major meltdown.

Pro – Tickets were inexpensive, and by buying them only a few days before the event we grabbed great seats for half the price had we planned in advance.
Con – Once you are in, you are shelling out $12 for a small tub of popcorn that probably cost $0.50 to produce, $20 for a plastic Frisbee-like toy they demo’d before the show so EVERY kid wants one and another $20 for a random “grab bag” of toys. Seriously, that is what they were calling it. And that doesn’t count photos or face painting. Fortunately, Cara is still too young to ask for all these things, but our days are numbered.

Pro – Genius mommy thought it would be fun to ride the train to the show. We parked at a nearby station and road up a stop. The side benefit was saving on parking.

Con – All those parents parked on-site shelled out another $20 for the privilege and missed out on what was probably the highlight of our day.

Pro – The kids got to see the lovable characters they know from the Toy Story franchise.

Con – Apparently Disney couldn’t afford to pay the actual voice actors to dub the entire performance, so throughout the program Woody was played by a combination of Tom Hanks, and Joe Whatshisname as if we couldn’t tell. Also, they borrowed liberally from both Toy Story 1 and 2 to use songs and characters that had no place in the third movie. These kids have seen the movie 100 times! Don’t think you pulled a fast one Disney, everybody knows.

Other observations

They went to the trouble of introducing the evil emperor Zurg which ended up scaring Cara. Fifteen minutes in and Cara is sad and telling me she wants to go home. Buzz does defeat him, but that isn't even accurate to the movie, so not only did it scare my kid, but it wasn't even relevant to the storyline. Thanks.

And finally, at one point the space men were dancing to the Star Wars cantina music (also not the movie). How about you take that royalty money and pump it back into storyboarding. Would it kill you to put a little effort into making a program that the parents could also enjoy somewhat. This is an embarrassment to Pixar who tries so hard to appeal to parents and children alike, they should be pissed.

That all said, it was all worth it to see Cara’s face light up when the music stared and Woody glided onto the ice and I can still claim partial rightness. However, we may have been better off riding BART for an hour or so, grabbing lunch and getting home BEFORE nap time. Lesson learned.