The Most Wonderful Time

So here's something most of you don't know about me. It never occurred to me that this was one of my "things;” you know those quirky habits, traditions, preferences that make each of our life stories so interesting. Anyway, I didn't know it was one of those until I mentioned it to my best friend last week and it was something that she never knew about me even though we've been friends for 18 years.

I love the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Love it. Love it to the point of obsession. I love the balloons and the Rockettes and the Broadway numbers and all the different performers. I love the cheesy worn out jokes the Today Show hosts make as parade commentators. I watch it every year. No excuses, nothing that supercedes it on the television. I am so compulsive about it that we don't have an early dinner and won't go to anyone else's house before it's over. Most years I won't even answer the phone while it's on.

I don't really care about any other parade either. I can take or leave the Parade of Roses, 4th of July parades, even parades at Disney World. But the Macy's Parade is sacred. I cry when the cut the ribbon at the beginning, cheering "Let's have a parade!" and I will not turn it off until the credits roll over Santa as he makes his way through Harold Square. I've watched it polishing silverware as a young child, I've refused to let anyone out of the hotel room when spending Thanksgiving in Florida; I've made my children turn off movies and cartoons and Christmas specials to watch it. This year, I even Tivo'd it.

And yet, I could never go see it live. Why? Because I couldn't see all of it from the parade route. The ideal situation in that case would be to reserve a room in a hotel along the parade route - one with a veranda that I could sit on and drag the television out onto so that I wouldn't miss the commentators or the Broadway shows or the ribbon cutting.

I don't know why I put so much stock in the parade. I do know that in the very rare years I didn't watch the whole thing it made it very hard for me to get into the holiday spirit. Maybe it's the innocence of the parade, maybe it's because it reminds me of all the wonderful memories about the holidays when I was growing up. But I think I've been obsessed with this parade since the first time I saw it.

I hope that all of you are blessed to have something in your life that you are attached to because it evokes such wonderful memories.

Thanksgiving FAQ's

1. No I didn't make a Tofurkey.

2. Yes, I've made one before.

3. No, I didn't enjoy it.

4. We had everything but the turkey.

5. No, that's not a euphemism for sex.

6. Yes, you can make gravy without animal parts.

Hope yours was an enjoyable day as well.

"If the only prayer you ever said was 'Thank You,' it would be enough."

My Lesson In Gratitude

About six months before I left Los Angeles I was up in San Jose for a trade show. After working at the convention center all day, a couple of us were meeting some people for drinks and dinner at another, much swankier hotel than the one in which we were staying.

I didn't really know the folks we were meeting, they were business acquaintances whom I had never met face to face until that time.

I remember thinking they were much cooler than me, their jobs much more prestigious. They clearly made a lot more money than I did, and they could afford living in trendy parts of New York City. Their company clearly spent no expense to make sure they were comfortable and staying in an A+ hotel. Although they were funny and welcoming and lovely people, I felt inferior and just a smidge on this side of jealous.

After having a couple of martinis I excused myself for a visit to the ladies room. I walked in and there were a couple of women cleaning the bathroom. One was in a stall cleaning the toilet so I couldn't see her. The other was refilling the paper towels.

As I washed my hands, the woman cleaning the toilet came out. She was young, in her early twenties, Latino. She was very hot and tired; it showed in her face. She was also about eight months pregnant.

She eased herself onto the floor and took a drink of water. I'm sure she wanted nothing more than a nap.

I left the bathroom remembering how lucky I really was.

My wish for all of us this week is that we may all be aware of how much we have to be thankful for and how good we really have it.

Random NaBloPoMo Ramblings

Today starts a stint of night shifts at the hospital for the Land Baron. Not exactly ideal hours but the money is good and we figured out that he'd actually get to spend more time with the girls by working nights. He's been putting in loooong hours at the hospital and when he works twelve-hour shifts he's gone in the morning before the girls get up and comes home usually after they are asleep. Make that five days a week and the girls are a bit squirrely by day three or four. With night shifts, he's here to play with them once they come home from school and daycare, have dinner with them and start the bedtime process.

Pepper got her first haircut today. She's not exactly Rapunzel but she was starting to look like she had a mullet, so it was time. She sat stoically, watching the proceedings carefully in the mirror. It's hard to know what a two year old expects with a haircut, but this clearly wasn't it. Although she was psyched about the lollypop at the end.

It's been chilly here in the last week - I've loved it. It finally feels like November to me. But, in typical Maryland form, the closer we're getting to Thanksgiving, the warmer it's actually getting. Thursday it's supposed to be in the 70's. I have mixed feelings about this. And it happens almost every year here in Maryland, so you think I would have come to some conclusion by now. It's great to have weather where the girls can go outside and play while they have five days off in a row, but I really like it to be chilly over Thanksgiving.

I think I was going somewhere with all of this - but it's 10pm, I'm exhausted and the Pepper isn't exactly asleep yet - by which I mean she's still sitting at my feet awake and playing while watching some Muppets on TV. Her sleep has been all off the last few weeks- I'm not sure if it's because she's napping late at daycare or if she's overtired (which unfortunately, makes her sleep less) or maybe it's one of the other thousands of things that disrupts toddlers' sleep patterns. Anyway, I guess it means it's time for me to sign off for now and try to think of something witty and clever for tomorrow's post.

You Give Love A Bad Name

That's right, I'm going to see Bon Jovi in concert. My dear friend Colleen splurged on tickets so she and I can travel back in time to 1989.

It's time for me to break out my neon halter-top with a black mesh overlay, a jean miniskirt and my Peter Pan boots. I'll stock up on my cans of final net, find some purple mascara and dust off my dozens of black rubber bracelets.

Anyone know where I can borrow a Camaro for the night?

It's ok, you can be jealous. You can't help it.

Me and Jon and his painted on jeans. A night together in February.

Oh yeah, and ten thousand other people crammed into the Verizon Center.

New Math

25 hyped-up, overly excited preschool girls
+
1800+ toys in a locally owned toy store
+
7 gazillion cookies and juice boxes
+
5 overworked store employees
+
1 forty-five minute late actress in full "Beauty And the Beast" Belle costuming
=
3 days of recovery time for every single mother involved.



And how was your Saturday?

The Soapbox

I'm in the middle of two blissful uninterrupted hours at home. By myself. With nothing that I have to do. Well, that's not exactly true, but I decided that I would take these two hours and claim them as my own. No laundry, no cleaning, no doing for others. These are mine. They are delicious and I don't have to share with anyone. So there....nyah.

Pickle has an after-school playdate with one of her classmates so I don't have to be at school to pick her up. Since I'm already paying for full-time day care for the Pepper, I decided to leave her there late. I feel as if I am playing hooky.

By far, the hardest thing about these hours for me is to resist the urge to "do something." My mind keeps wandering back to what errands I could run, what I could clean or organize, what bills I could pay, etc. The little chattering monkeys in my head won't stop their assault - 'What if you just vacuum for ten minutes? Then we could let it go." But they couldn't, not really. After vacuuming would be laundry and filing and cleaning floors or changing sheets - you get the idea. They're little drug dealers offering little hits of self-satisfaction for completing some task that will edge me into the next hit and the next and the next until I'm rushing to get to Pepper before daycare closes and chiding myself for not actually taking time for myself.

Last night there was a presentation at Pickle's school about stress and preschoolers. They brought in a panel of LCSW's to talk about how stress affects kids today and what we can do about it. Three of the biggest offenders of stress in preschoolers are expectations, over-scheduling and absorption.

In general, we expect too much from our kids. Especially smart kids, good kids and kids who seem to excel in some area or another. We expect them to be perfect; we expect them to not melt down when they are tired, hot or hungry. We expect them to remember things because it's easy for us to remember them. I remember being ten and worrying because I hadn't figured out what I wanted to be when I grew up. If I knew then that I'd be 36 and asking the same question, I would have been apoplectic. Even knowing this, this is one of those things I am most guilty of especially with the Pickle. She seems so wise and old and together sometimes that it's hard for me to remember she is five years old. And that is very little.

It's no surprise that kids today are overscheduled. I have to say that is one thing that I am really conscious of. Pickle takes dance. That's it. That's plenty. Pepper is not in a tumbling class or a music class - she has daycare. A daycare that I chose carefully where she gets little to no time in front of a TV and a wonderful daycare provider who is engaged and makes sure the kids socialize and have lots of fun. Lots of Pickles friends take dance and gymnastics or soccer and music and...well, who knows what. They're always running off somewhere. And while sometimes I worry that she might enjoy other activities as well, I try to remember that extracurricular activities never take the place of free time in the space of a child.

What was surprising to me, although I'm not sure why now that I have heard it, is how much over-scheduling of the rest of the family adds stress to a child's life. Parents work many hours and then cram teacher's meetings, church, parties, errands, other sibling's activities and then suddenly, there isn't much time left over for play. And play is important, the most important thing a kid can do.

Then there is absorption- kids pick up on so much. Especially overly sensitive kids, like Pickle. Any conversation about money or disagreements with spouses or negative talk, they soak it up and worry about it over and over again. Limiting this dynamic is very important, and again, something I'm not very good at lately. But hearing it last night made me resolve to do better.

The anecdote for all of this? Play, play, play. Kids need time to play by themselves, but they really need time to play with us. When we're ok, they're ok. If we're having fun, they are too. It's time for us all to chill a little more and make sure we fit in all those things that we profess are most important to us but of which we often neglect.

Breathing and mindfulness and yoga and all those trendy things are fine but what we all need is to blow bubbles and play with playdoh and find animals in the clouds a little more.

As for me, I think there are some blocks calling my name.

10pm is too late

-for me to keep trying to post. And yet, here I am again. I've got to start working on this earlier because I am soooo not a night owl.

Goodnight. I'll check in earlier tomorrow.

Shhh.....

Finally came up with a great Christmas gift for the Pickle and the Pepper.

Princess Katie, their favorite kids Pop Princess has a new album coming out in late December and a CD release party in NYC the weekend after Pickle's 6th birthday. Can anyone say road trip!

If you have young kids, check out Princess Katie and Racer Steve at www.princessracer.com. Great folks - fun, good message, well-written music that doesn't make my ears bleed when the girls ask me to play the CD for the 6th time in a row. Lots of people make a comparison between Princess Katie and Natalie Merchant, but since I'm guessing she's probably getting tired of hearing that, I won't say that. I'll just say she sounds a lot like the front woman for 10,000 Maniacs.

I finally found one gift safer than anything on the shelves of Target.

Now if I could just find an old Bass O'Matic on ebay.

So...

Two guys walk into a bar, which is really stupid because after the first one hit it, you'd think the second one would be smart enough to move out of the way.

Sorry, my writers were all out on the picket lines in front of Universal Studios today. Hopefully the industry will come to an agreement soon so this blog can be funny again.

I hope so, for your sake.

A Day To Remember

This is my friend Colleen. We like to joke that the Land baron and I are her token liberal friends. She's an amzing woman in so many ways, but especially in all that she tries to do for our veterans. We may not see eye to eye very often in the political arena, but I have a tremendous amount of respect that she works so hard to make sure the next generation appreciates some of the sacrifIces that have been made by those who have come before us.

Take a look at this.

The New Neighbors

Pickle discovered our new neighbors last weekend sitting in one of our trees in the back yard:







Admittedly, these are not spectacular pictures, but if you never been to our house, these trees are well over 100 years old and very, very tall. This is as good as my zoom lens gets.

As near as we can figure, they are red-shouldered hawks. They are large birds. They are loud birds. They are extremely cool birds.

We've seen one hanging out in a mud puddle in the road after a big storm last week, probably looking for frogs. Today Pickle discovered one sitting on the top porch of the house across the street. I don't have any idea how long it was there but when Pickle showed me, it took off and swooped into the field behind our house. Later when we left the house, it was on a powerline in the field looking for dinner, I imagine.

I don't know if we are a stop-over to someplace warmer for the winter, or if this particular pair is from up north and we are the southern destination. Maybe they've decided to call our little corner of the world home too. Whatever the reason for their presence, I'm happy they are here.

It's impossible to bring them a plate of cookies, so I hope they feel welcome. I'd love for them to stick around for a while.

'Tis The Season

Pepper, who is two, told me today thay she didn't want to sit on Santa's lap this holiday season. Instead she wants to take him out to dinner.

I like the way this girl thinks.

Me and St. Francis Are Tight

Driving to pick up the Pickle and the Pepper this afternoon, I came off the highway and was sitting at a light on this incredibly busy street when I noticed a small kitten and a woman walking behind it along the sidewalk. My initial thought was "Why on earth is walking that kitten on this busy street without a leash?"

Then my heart sank as I realized she was carefully, slowly chasing the kitten because it had gotten loose. Her dilemma was that if she moved too quickly the kitten might dart into the street or under a chain link fence that lined the edge of the sidewalk. I watched her grab at the kitten a couple of times and miss; the kitten started moving faster. She started walking faster...with one last grab, the kitten freaked out, and started running toward the street, she blocked it and it tried stuffing itself under the fence. Just as she almost had it; it would run off erratically again. I couldn't handle it. I had my eyes covered and I was yelling, "No, no, no!" Needless to say, I am not good under pressure in general.

Now growing up Catholic and going to Catholic school until 8th grade means that regardless of where you go in your life, there are certain elements of Catholicism that stay with you. For me, it's the saints. When I lose something, the first thing I do is ask St. Anthony to help me find it. On the rare occasion that I perform anymore, I ask St. Cecilia to help me get through it. I'm not saying that these saints have nothing better to do with their day than help me find my car keys, but I will say that more times than I can count a crazy idea comes to me right after I pray for intercession, and yes, in fact, somehow my car keys ended up in the freezer.

So as I was sitting in my car in fetal position with a green light ahead of me, and cars beginning their procession towards the next intersection, I couldn't handle the stress of this maniacal kitten any longer. Just as she was about to run out into the street to certain squishdom, I reflexively yelled, "St. Francis, do SOMETHING!"

No sooner were the words out of my mouth than that kitten dead stopped. Not slowed down, not stopped because something blocked it's path...just stopped. And in that second, the woman was able to snatch the little thing up and head back to her own car several yards down the street.

Now don't expect that if you pray to St. Anthony to return the family dog that ran away twelve years ago that he's going to show up on your porch next week. (Although in 1st grade,, my dog Bowser ran away and after three days of Sister Sophie having my class pray to St. Anthony, he did show up in our yard, filthy, full of burdocks but thrilled to see us.) But today, a kitten, on the verge of ending it's own little tiny life was saved at the last second when a tiny little person on this planet who doesn't claim to have all the answers cried out in fear and desperation and the Universe in it's own way, answered.

I'm just saying....

The Grinch Who Stole Christmas

Apparently, my children will be getting string, a couple of sticks and maybe a shiny rock or two for Christmas as it appears that every toy on the commercial market today is actually some sort of deathtrap exported out of China. It reminds me of the old Saturday Night Live Skit where Dan Akroyd is the unscrupulous toy maker selling such treasures as "Bag of Glass" or "Board with Nails Sticking Out of It." I'm sure you could find it at Youtube if you want to watch it. It's a classic.

Pickle had her heart set on Aquadots...so that's out. Polly Pockets? Nope. Dora/Elmo/Fisher Price/Mattel - not on your life.

In general, we don't buy a lot of toys. If you ask the Land Baron, we have too many as is. I know lots of parents who buy something for their children every time they go out shopping - or that a trip to Toys R Us is a form of entertainment. I won't even step foot in that place. I loathe everything about it. Occasionally there is a small toy as a special treat, but mostly, just Christmas and birthdays. It's my little stand against consumerism. I am inconsistent and don't always follow this rule but at least having the rule gives me a goal to strive towards. I suppose if I had a 3,500 square foot house I might not notice all the stuff, but since space is a premium in our little corner of the neighborhood, everything in the house better be put to good use. Otherwise it's just taking up premium real estate.

The dilemma for me is that while I hate all that plastic, mass-marketed stuff, my oldest daughter doesn't. Luckily, a used toy is often just as good as a new one. Several of her toys were acquired through Freecycle and Craigslist. A few others I picked up at consignment shops. I feel a little bit better knowing that we're recycling some of this plastic and will eventually also pass them along to another child to love as well. And Pickle & Pepper do have the largest dress-up box of any of their friends. Plus, send them outside into the yard and they make up wonderful games and interesting stories.

While I would love to buy handmade, wooden, paper and cloth toys exclusively, it is a costly process. I try to balance it all out a bit by buying from a wonderful locally owned toy shop in the area. They carry almost none of the typical mass-marketed toys and buy toys that use natural products. But again, it can be expensive. The simple answer is to just have less but better toys. In a culture like ours, however, sometimes the sheer number of ponies you have brings the greater joy.

But this year the debacle that is the toy industry may just put me over the edge. The girls may in fact unwrap boxes filled with shells and pebbles and sticks - they might not like it, but at least I know that the worse they can do is poke their eyes out.

Seems like a better gamble than buying a toy from a mass retailer.

Grateful

Like many writers, I have a fairly well defined obsession with notebooks. I can't help myself. I am always on the lookout for the "perfect notebook," whatever that is. It doesn't matter if I'm at Walgreens or a high-end stationary store - the siren call of notebooks beckons me as soon as I walk through the door.

And don't get me started on pens or office supplies. I go almost apoplectic just walking in there. Over the years, I've amassed a rather large and eclectic collection of notebooks. I use different notebooks for different tasks- one to write morning pages, one to write character ideas, one to specifically journal in. And I can't tell you what makes me attracted to a particular notebook - my tastes run the gamut from unlined, expensive art paper to lined $.39 notebooks with a plain green cover. My attraction to notebooks is like abstract art - I can't describe what I like, but I know it when I see it. About a month ago, I found this notebook in a lovely store in Clarksville, called Nest:




Believe me when I say that this photo doesn't do it justice. I saw it and I literally had a visceral reaction to it. I picked it up and literally starting crying. Why would I cry holding a notebook you ask? I have no frickin idea- I just did. And I had to have it. So I bought it and brought it home and then...it sat. Unused. Occasionally I'd pick it up and hold it and try to discern what to use it for. And I got nothing, except that it had to hold something beautiful. Then I'd put it down and leave it untouched.

Until Sunday when I finally realized what purpose this beautiful, delicate, spiritual notebook was destined for. It has become a gratitude journal. I've never kept one before, I never needed to - I was well aware of all that I had to be grateful for and I've always been the eternal optimist. And then this year tackled me, kicked my in the kidneys and left me for dead on the curb. And suddenly it's become hard for me to see how much I really have.

So this little journal has now become a big part of my life. And it feels right.

Take Your Pickle to Work Day

Pickle was off from school today while her teachers prepped for parent conferences at the end of the week. The Land Baron worked at the hospital all day and I didn't want to use one of my precious few days off so, we packed up a bag full of distractions and off we went.

First stop- Baltimore Coffee & Tea- a lovely new coffee place across from the mall. They made a lukewarm hot chocolate for the Pepper - which is a brilliant idea because 1) she could drink it right away and it didn't need to be an exercise in delayed gratification and B) they don't get their asses sued when some child scalds themselves. Seems like a win-win to me.

So with warm beverages in hand we went to the office. Pickle has been excited for days. She couldn't wait to see what it was like at a real office where grown-ups do actual work.

If I was a betting woman, I would have given her 2-2.5 hours max before boredom set in and she'd start asking "Is it almost time to go yet" every 1.3 seconds. But she was a trooper. She played on the Internet and colored and cut things out and helped me open the mail and watched a DVD. She even helped me walk the bosses dog as an extra-special treat.

As a side note, I have to say that although I truly enjoy having the dog come to work on the rare occasions when my boss brings him in, I can't help thinking that the reason I went back to work in the first place was to clean up less poop during my day. But since I am often the only one in the office and everyone else (including my boss) is out working with clients, it's a worthwhile trade for the companionship and the chance to get a little fresh air in my mornings.

Pickle really only started bouncing off the walls about ten minutes before we left. She was ready for some running around time - as, aren't we all at the end of a work day.

Her favorite part of the day was when we both got our lunches out and sat at the conference table in my bosses office eating from our lunch bags and flipping through a magazine together as all good lunch buddies should.

But I think she was a touch disappointed that there was less excitement than she imagined. I don't know what she was expecting but I don't think it was the sight of her mother sitting at a computer, typing away--which is what I do at home most of the time anyway. I think she thought adults at work led interesting lives full of movement and energy and who knows what. Now she knows that I'm basically the same person both places.

Maybe I can convince her I'm an international spy and this is just my cover...

The Inquisition

Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I enter into evidence Exhibit A:




A pan of delicious vegetarian rice krispy squares. Note the proper distance between the back of the counter where the pan is located to the front of the counter. (If you also noted how beautifully clean the counter is too that would be great, thanks.)

Now I present Exhibit B:



Someone has clearly helped themselves. But who??????

Finally, Exhibit C:



Is that a carb-induced sleep coma I spy? Or was it the little pieces of rice krispies in his chest fur that gave him away?

Although leniency is recommended, the prosecution would like to note that there has been absolutely no display of remorse from the accused. Typical....

Ooops!

So I spent my day chopping up jack-o-lanterns, boiling them and blending them into a puree for the dogs.

What? Does this strike you as odd? Doesn't everyone do this?

Well, the next time your dog is puking up whatever they've eaten from the trash, go buy some canned pumpkin and give them a spoonful with every meal. Pumpkin is a great tummy calmer for pooches. And since I have three large dogs who love to get into the trash when we have the audacity to both leave the house AND leave the trashcan sitting on the kitchen floor (where it always resides), it's always good to add a little pumpkin proactively into the food dish and just accept the inevitability that I will forget to put the trash can on the counter before I run out the door.

It's National Blog Posting Month - or as the hip kids like to call it; NaBloPoMo. I forgot. I thought it was in December and so now I've missed the first two days. Oops. I hope they don't mark me down for it.

In case you've never heard of it. NaBloPoMo is a challenge for bloggers (and wannabe bloggers) everywhere to write a blog entry every day for the month of November. You can join by going to http://nablopomo.ning.com and creating an account. Or, if you already have a blog, I suppose you can just blog away. It's really just up to you. For those of us Type-A's who are always afraid of getting it wrong, you can post your blog entries on both your own blog and the Ning blog. Really, the amount of obsessiveness is up to you- or maybe it's not - depending on your amount of obsessiveness...

Anyway, I hope you give it a try. And, keep checking in here, hopefully sooner or later I'll blog about something interesting.