Losing My Lap: Legally, Literally, and Figuratively

Regrets, I’ve had a few…

2011-07-20T11:14:00.001-07:00

As I sit here, hungry, waiting for my Outlook to restart and check for non-existent problems for a perpetual period of 7 minutes that really is 70 minutes of billable time, I cannot help but think about how crappy I eat when I am not on a diet.

And then, when I am exercising and trying to follow Weight Watchers or starve, one in the same, I do not think about the junk that I consumed just last week. The crappy leftovers from the plates of my children. The mediocre take out. The large bag of Famous Amos cookies from Costco that I finished off because the kids didn’t like it.

I am completely focused on a loaf of hot crusty French bread, a wheel of brie cheese, and a bottle of Merlot. I can’t think of anything else. I can even smell it if I try hard enough. Why didn’t I eat that instead of all the cookies and the nuggets, and the ice cream, and the “anything that has butter on it or in it”. Why did I eat such shit when there are so many better ways to get fat?

I want to get fat My Way next time.

Tailspin

2011-06-23T20:54:00.001-07:00

There are socks all over the house. I watch sitcoms during which fat nondescript housewife follows fat nondescript blue collar male around the house bitching about how he does not pick up his towels, socks, whatever, he further does not put the toilet seat down. I have no memory of my skinny accented mother following my hard working, albeit overweight, white collar father around the house asking him to pick up or do anything. I am sure she’d squat over a cold, seat raised porcelain god before disturbing the state it was in to ensure my father would not be bothered. In fact, she often would be in the middle of dinner clean up, homework, kids, washing the ashtray, and bringing him tea and pistachios when he’d ask for a glass of water. She’d bring that glass of water and then the vacuum to clean up the stray inner shell of the pistachios.

I digress.

My husband J’s athletic socks all over the house. L is a mouse. He pesters his brothers to be rats or cats or anything so they can play with him. It is a club. When they lose a tail, they get another one. And another one. And another one. The discarded tails are in the kitchen, bathroom, toilet, front door, garage, several in the car, front door, on their scooters, on the steps, in the bathtub. He is becoming a mouse. He crawls around. His imagination is wild. He talks non-stop. We had a play date today with a cool kid and his cool mom and she literally asked if he ever shuts up. Seeing as how she too has a four year old and happens to be a teacher, it is an interesting observation indeed.

Should I love this imagination of his? Should I embrace it? He keeps asking me if I could just like the tails. Could I just maybe wear one with him all day and be a mouse too? I do sometimes because it just makes him too happy. But now he is asking the guests if they’d like a tail. Not a cold drink on a Pomona summer day. A tail. I think it would be fun to wear one to a NAWBO meeting. “Hi there CEO of X. Yes, I am the managing partner of a law firm and yes I have a tail on my gargantuan ass. How are you?”

One morning we were walking into school. He forgot to take off his tail when he got out of the car. This is the only time he takes it off and he never forgets to do so. He sleeps with it, he puts it aside when he goes to the restroom (now that he lost one down the toilet.) But, he voluntarily amputates his tail before going to school which I find fascinating…I have never had to tell him to do it. Does he know other kids would tell him that it’s not a tail at all? And so, another Mom sort of chuckles and says, “don’t you hate when the clothes stick together in the dryer. L you have a sock stuck to your shorts.” {{I chuckled too…like I would wash J’s filthy socks with L clothes.}}

L glares and says: “That’s NOT a sock, it’s a TAIL.”

That is my tale. And these are my mice.

Off Target

2011-06-17T20:09:00.001-07:00

And so today, I went to Target to buy a couple “last minute” items for Father’s Day. Like, cards and something that my father can put on a shelf and ignore for another year. Aside from Mother of the Year, I am also in the running for Wife and Daughter of the Year. All is right in the world. Mediocrity at its best.

Anyhow, I get there, catch my reflection in the mirror and decide that I would look less fat and awful, if I took the keys and cell phone out of my sweats and shoved them into my purse. The improvement was nothing to write home about. I put my purse in the cart and started my normal route around Target. I will always walk by the $8 t-shirts and tanks of which I have so many in so many different colors, it is disturbing. I then go by the workout stuff and the pajamas. Anyhow, I did not buy any crap today that I did not need, at least not really. I went by the toys and found some “make believe doctor” type toys that I knew J and J would love so I picked that up and then I grabbed the cart and went on my way.

I headed straight for the DVD section where I was certain I would find something suitable for my father. I did. Threw said Clint Eastwood Western compilation into cart with fake medical kit. I then walked over to the electronics section thinking that maybe I would find him some kind of handheld game that he could play without moving from the couch. And then, I realized I had not checked my phone for the last several minutes. And THEN, I noticed that my cart had no purse in it. My purse was gone. The little area where a purse should be wholly lacked a purse. And honestly, I had NO IDEA how that happened. And then, a red polo shirt saleswoman walked by and I must have looked pale and nauseated and frantic but she said nothing and walked by. And I decided to retrace my steps.

I would not have held my heavy ass purse because there was perfectly good compartment to hold my purse. So, I figured I would go to where I was and see if someone there saw the bastard Pomona shit steal my purse so I could make a report to the police. Then I figured that all Pomona hooligans stick together and so why would anyone help. I then cursed Pomona, sweat pooling in my still too tight underwire. Not by the DVDs. Go to the toy section. Father-daughter still negotiating about a Barbie. Pleased at this point that although I do not have a purse, I also do not have any Barbie heads in my house. I glare at the father because he must be in on the delinquency whereby my purse is now with some gang member in Pomona.

I am seething and fuming and upset that I have lost all my contacts and a few hundred bucks, all my credit cards. My new giraffe wallet. Totally irritated that I have to go to the POMONA DMV. There is nothing worse than Pomona DMV, you go there to risk your life. My newly opened Carmex. My CAR KEYS. I couldn’t even call Julio to ask him to pick me up because I HAD NO PHONE. DAMN POMONA!

And I go up and down the aisles. Aisles I did not even go in. And there is an empty cart with just my purse in it. My untouched purse, an empty cart.

Weinergate

2011-06-16T19:23:00.000-07:00

Today, my year as president of my local NAWBO chapter ended which means that I have all kinds of wonderful free time to swim around in. I am not real sure what to do with this time but I am a little twitchy that not one email has come in and fallen into my Outlook NAWBO folder since about 2 pm. Holy shit. What am supposed to do with this freedom?

I could bill. That would be good. Probably would please J tremendously.

I would rather, however, talk about penises. And no, not Weinergate. I am over his penis and pictures thereof. I will also not mention opposing counsel who did not like my very thorough discovery responses.

L. has a song that he sings every night now about his penis. I wouldn't even bother mentioning it if it was one night but this has been a few weeks and it cracks me up. A song and a dance. And I have to control my smile and I can't even let my eyes smile because, truly, it's not appropriate. I mean really...how do they start so young with this fascination and how does the fascination manage to stick around to the point that it can bring down a sophomoric, albeit charismatic, Congressman?

I digress. After his bath when I am attempting to dry him off and dress him, he walks around the room and puts his penis on every object he can find and sings a verse:

I put my wee wee on Mooooommmy. Booty Shake.
I put my wee wee on the bed. Booty Shake.
I put my wee wee on the bookcase. Booty Shake.
I put my wee wee on the dresser. Booty Shake.
I put my wee wee on the chaiiiiiir. Booty Shake.

And so on and so forth. I am pleased that he has such a strong handle on his vocabulary and likes to dance. I am little curious about the tune he sings the song to because it reminds me mildly of a porn soundtrack. It's definitely not from Alpha and Omega. Whatever. I would record because it is so funny but then he will think that dancing with his package is funny and special and then one day L Jr. will end up on Twitter and we know how that ends.

What's with boys and their members, really? Sigh. I think I know. I don't need answers to this. But seriously, this does not bode well. Imagine all three dancing like this or all four...crap, this can't be good. To be continued.

Stuck

2011-01-30T20:13:00.001-08:00

I am very allergic to dogs and cats. I remember going to my best friend Rachael’s house when she was getting ready to go to Homecoming with Diego in high school and her mother had like 32 cats in the house. So, we ran into the house. I ran up the stairs and she locked me in her pre-cleaned bathroom so I could help her get ready. Within 15 minutes, I was sneezing every 30 seconds. It is pretty gross but I am certain that the reason her hair stayed in place that night was because my sneeze mucous particles were distributed all over her hair as I was working with the hot curling iron on it. We are still friends.

By the end of Sunday, my nerves are usually worn thin and I am longing for Monday morning when I can wake up at the crack, go to Spin, and then come home and take my children to SCHOOL. God bless school. Anyhow.

I went with my kids and husband to my in-laws house this afternoon wearing the only jeans that fit me anymore. They have two Pomeranians that have taken over the house and usually I preload with Zyrtec and prepare to sneeze for a few hours. The kids have fun with their cousins. We all visit. My MIL prepared some yummies for everyone to eat. Well, as always, I walked into the house and within 15 minutes or so I was all stuffed up, losing my voice, rubbing my eyes, sneezing, coughing, etc. It was way cute.

We got back home and the twins were experiencing a meltdown because (1) they wanted me to take off their boots, (2) their dad took off their boots, and (3) they wanted to take bath wearing their rain coats that they hadn’t taken off since 3:30 even though we were inside with the Pomeranian hair. That just does not work. And it’s Sunday. And they need to go bed so that I don’t call 9-1-1 screaming 5150 repeatedly just so I can get seventy two hours of peace and quiet with a straight jacket on.

Meanwhile, I am going to pee in my pants. I hold it and hold it and hold it …until every one is bathed sans rain coats and in bed. I run to the bathroom with snot running down my face and pee almost dripping out and I grab a Kleenex and try to rip off my jeans simultaneously and the Kleenex catches on the zipper of my only fat ugly pair of jeans and the zipper fails. Totally fails. With Kleenex stuck between each crevice of the zipper mechanism. No more jeans. Big fat ass. I am all stuff up.

And that was the makings of my Sunday evening breakdown. I cried. A lot. Things just aren’t going well.

Good Night.

The Review that Made the Cut

2011-01-13T21:36:00.001-08:00

So this is what I think I will go ahead and post as my review…is it better? a little less psycho?

Dear Potential Employer:

Our family worked with Aline for almost two years. She started out being really great, she had a good relationship with the kids, and she was mostly very reliable. However, she began to slack off over time. She spent a lot more time on her cell phone texting and calling friends…even when the kids were awake and in front of her. She also stopped interacting with them as much.

On what turned out to be her last day, I was concerned about something that happened that could have only happened if she was not paying attention to my kids. I guess she did not like that I questioned her because after I went back to work, she texted me that she had left my house and was not coming back. In other words, she left my kids unattended and texted me to end a two year relationship with my family.

My advice: Try another nanny. She is not trustworthy, ethical, responsible, or mature. I would be very concerned about leaving any kids in her charge.

The Ex-Nanny Chronicles: The Heartbreaker.

2011-01-10T20:13:00.000-08:00

See, the other day I wrote a review of this ex-nanny so that I could post it on Care.Com. And then, J read it and told me that the only person who would write a review like that is completely insane and no potential employer would ever regard it in their decision making. Sigh. Well, for whatever it's worth, it made me feel better to write it.

Perhaps that's a lawyer thing...writing a mean letter makes you feel better? Now, though, I feel worse because I still want to post a review. Maybe I will edit it a tad and take out about 6 paragraphs...? Or maybe, I will just stew. Any thoughts, friends?
**
Dear Potential Employer:

If you are considering hiring Aline, the first question you should ask her is what she's been doing since she left Brazil. She has been working for me full-time for the better part of 2 years, on and off. You should then seriously consider the fact that she has failed to obtain a recommendation from me after such a long relationship. That ALONE should disturb any potential employer. Sadly, my experience with Aline ended in a very negative fashion.

Don't expect any loyalty, maturity, work ethic or decency from this nanny. Perhaps, she'll care for your kids and they'll be fine but she will have very little respect or honor for the parent/nanny relationship. In fact, the only reason that I have given her 2 stars is because my children appeared happy and unharmed during the two years they were in her charge. But, perhaps this was only a function of the fact that my husband and I worked from home and kept an eye on things.

On the day she left, I had questioned the fact that she had clearly been ignoring my children. A toy which had no reason to be destroyed was in a hundred pieces. An open magazine and her cell were on the table. She had obviously been ignoring my kids while she amused herself reading about celebrities and texting her boyfriend. After I questioned her about it, she answered me that they had been "playing". Um, seems to me that her entire job was to pay attention to the kids. No one in their right mind would have allowed them to "play" in this fashion.

I let the issue go even though I had a few choice things to tell her because Aline had already told me this would be her last week and I wanted to keep things friendly. Frankly, you expect people to slack off a little during their last week on the job. Sadly, this is all you can expect from people anymore. However, I was very disappointed in the fact that she would allow my kids to destroy a toy when they had managed to keep the toy in one piece for several weeks. Perhaps it was her grasp of English but she seemed to think that I was accusing her of destroying the toy, but really I was wondering what SHE was doing that allowed her to so thoroughly ignore my children that they could have done such an enormous amount of damage. My boys are normal toddlers - so, I am not disturbed by what they did. Toddlers take things apart. I, do, however wonder what SHE was doing when she was supposed to be taking care of them.

Next thing I knew, I was working in my office and I got a text that she had left my home, that she had "no guilt" regarding what happened to the toy, and she wouldn't be coming back. Heartless. Isn't that lovely? Isn't it lovely that the moment I questioned her care of my children which was her only job, she would jump in her car and LEAVE my children unattended after having a relationship with my family for TWO years.

Frankly, I now must also question her intelligence. Would an intelligent person allow children to act without regard for themselves and their belongings without a second thought? Would an intelligent person sacrifice their only job reference in this country? Probably not.

She is the exact kind of person who places no value and has no regard to a long relationship or a good repoire with her employer. Aline collected her Christmas present and large bonus and went on vacation for a week. A vacation I permitted because I assumed she'd return. Well, dear friends, the woman emailed me on the Tuesday (during her vacation) preceding New Year's Eve to let me know that the next week would in fact be her last week working for me. Not even 2 weeks notice...on a HOLIDAY week no less! How appropriate. Collect your bonus and bail? Aline is a real class act. AND THEN, come ONE morning and leave without saying goodbye and TEXT that you are gone merely because your employer had the "audacity" to question the below standard level of care of the kids.

Who DOES that? Can you imagine the kind of person who would be so rude and inappropriate? After treating her as part of my family and paying her timely for TWO years, she summarily left MIDDAY with a TEXT. Seriously? Heartbreaking. She'll screw you, folks. Have no doubt about it.

{{To be fair, please understand that this relationship was good for a long time. She used to care about the kids and what she was doing. I am not a negligent parent and would not have kept her on for this long unless she had some good qualities. However, that clearly changed and her actions upon her departure showed me that perhaps she was clearly not the person I thought.}}

You can't trust this person. Keep her out of your homes, out of your lives, out of your childrens' lives. She has no moral compass and I hope I never have to cross paths with her again. She is the worst kind of employee and hopefully the only employment that she manages to obtain when comes back from Brazil is one where disrespect, a low IQ, and a below average set of values is the norm...a telemarketer perhaps?

Big, Fat Breaths

2010-11-08T22:30:00.000-08:00

Sometimes Lulo is so cute, I call him ugly a la Shug, "you sho' is ugly".

And he is so skinny with little chicken legs, so I tell him to move his big, fat butt.

I know that this is probably not a great idea because one day he will call someone who is morbidly obese "big, fat, and ugly" and I will be really, really embarrassed but for now...it's one of the ways I joke with him. He seems to be saying it in jest too. Also, when he calls me big and fat these days, I like to pretend it's a compliment even though I am approaching maximum density.

Anyhow, I did not breast feed and my general opinion on breast feeding can be left to a whole different post. However, I think this may be why Lulo has not gotten the right word for "breasts" down. He keeps calling them "hips" and I have not wanted to correct him because (1) it is funny and (2) I really don't want him walking around saying the word "breasts" or other related euphemism/slang term to every female on the planet.

This is all relevant because tonight, after I tucked him in, he told me I had "big fat hips". And I said, "what is big and fat?" And he pointed to my "breasts" and I thought this was going nowhere good.

So, I told him, "these are not hips Lulo, these (pointing to actual breasts) are called breasts. THESE (pointing to actual large ass) are hips."

He says "THOSE TAKE BREATHS. HOW?" Eyes bulging.
"No, no, not breaths. Breasts."
"How do they take breaths?"
"They don't take breaths, they make milk."
"When do they make milk, how?"
"Um, uh, good night Lulo. Go to bed now."
"I want to call them hips since they don't take breaths. Big, fat hips."
"OK, Good Night."
"Good night."

Selfish

2010-11-03T22:06:00.000-07:00

He's always been a good sleeper. He used to go to bed with less difficulty. He didn't used to need an escort to the bathroom. He didn't complain about the air conditioning being on. He didn't imagine noises or manage to find the movement of hangers in my closet to be a disturbing sound. He used to just go to bed. Now, there is a whole slew of nonsense that accompanies his bedtime rituals before nap and at night. I think it is worse because of the two flights of stairs to get to the little face that now can peer over the banister. Or maybe it's just annoying to take someone to pee only to have to run up again to escort him to poop not 3 minutes later. And then go up again to hear a "secret".

It's really irrelevant. Because after all that time getting him to go to bed and then finally, impatiently threatening his life if he comes out of bed again, I go in there around 10 p.m. I remove the door prop, I fix his blankets, I put all the askew body parts in place, and I kiss his temple. I suck in a deep whiff and fill up all my senses with his smell. I fill up my lungs with the newborn scent that somehow still accompanies him and the mildewy sent that resides on his stuffed elephant. I am, at that moment, aware of the warmth that rises from him and enjoy it. I don't miss him. I don't want to hang out with him. I don't want him to wake up. I really really don't want him to wake up. I just want to be there with him. Breathing him in. Enjoying his peacefulness. Appreciating his long limbs and how he developing into this little boy. Accepting how lucky I am to have him there, like that, as he is.

Make a Lovely Light

2010-10-11T20:23:00.001-07:00

A friend of J's stopped by tonight because J had volunteered me to draft a stern letter to a clothing designer who is refusing to produce his daughter's dresses (yes, plural) for her Sweet 16 birthday party.

So, I am talking to the guy, who was the sweetest, most down to earth dude to ever. He was in messy clothes with dirty hands and tired from a hard day doing manly man's work. And then, to my shock and amazement, he utters the words..."two of her three dresses will not be ready and the quinciniera is only two weeks away!" Well, dear me.

So, because I have watched a couple (dozen) episodes of Sweet 16 on MTV, I jokingly say, "is she making her entrance on a horse?" And he says, "no, an ELEPHANT." And I had no words, for the first time in 15 minutes. Apparently, the dress in which she is making her "grand entrance" on the elephant is one of the dresses that won't be ready. You can't just go buy one of those dresses at the mall, he explains. OhhhhK.

After realizing that he wasn't joking, I ask him a few lawyer like type questions. Tell him he ought to have a Plan B, etc. etc. Then, I once again make a little jokey and I say, "so, are you buying her a Porsche to drive off in." His eyes got big and he said, "how did you know?" She will indeed be driving off in a Porsche from the first private event ever held at one of the Fairplex buildings.

The weird thing was he did not seem like one of those over the top, ridiculous Dads on MTV's Sweet 16. He had a twinkle in his eyes. He was tired and hard working and in love with his little girl. He was proud to his core of how she has overcome her learning disabilities and is competing in her classes, how she is now the Vice President of her high school class, how she is a good girl who is far exceeding his expectations. I don't know. I didn't get irritated despite being flabbergasted by a show of excess that I typically mock. I liked the dude.

Anyhow, let's just stick this on my list of why I like having boys. I can just go paint balling with them and let them drive off of the junkyard with a car that they can rebuild. Now, that's a Sweet 16 I can look forward to.

Driving with Joe Friday

2010-10-05T12:53:00.000-07:00

We were driving home from school today taking the many twists and turns up the hill to my house and I was in my own little zone. I have, after all, gone up and down this his 12,000 times. Luk was mowing on a cookie in the back; I was thinking about how much needed doing when I walked in the door.

And all of a sudden Luk says, that was a STOP sign and you didn't stop. I was like, "um, yes I did." He said, "no you didn't, S-T-O-P is STOOOOOOOOOP and you didn't."

So, "Um, Uh, I slowed down."

"That isn't stopping. S-T-O-P, STOOOOOOOP!"

Frankly, it's too soon for him to be commenting on my driving and I didn't appreciate it.

You Can Take the Boy Out of Egypt But You Can't Take the Egypt Out of the Boy

2010-10-04T20:18:00.000-07:00

Today, I went to go retrieve the boys from school. I got the twins first because Lulo was still eating lunch when I spied him.

When I got to the twins classroom, they asked me if the boys had slept alright the night before. I said that they had. She said that they were "out of sorts" and whiny. She then mentioned that maybe they were getting sick or something and to keep any eye out.

She also mentioned that Juju got frustrated and when the teacher turned around...he took his shoe off and chucked it at her.

Nice. Sigh.

Four

2010-10-01T17:30:00.000-07:00

When I was pregnant with Lulo, the pregnancy was uneventful (other than the typical puking and the first time Mommy nerves.) Giving birth was as smooth as it could go. Recovery was fast. The OB told me that I was made to birth babies. Lulo was a hearty 9 lbs, 6 ozs. He ate (formula) like a champ. He smiled early, walked late. He slept on a schedule at 6 weeks. He played and jabbered quietly in his bed when he woke up. We had our moments but he was such a good baby that I was ready to try again when he was 10 months old. I was so, so dumb.

The minute after everyone left his first birthday party...I puked and puked and puked. I was pregnant again. Of course, that was the twin pregnancy...a pregnancy that made the 2nd year of Lukas' life a total blur. I watched him from afar as my Mom took care of him for several months while I was hospitalized. I think I will be making up for this lost year my whole life...for now...Lulo gets away with more, he is my Mama's boy. I am strict with him but he has a special place in my heart. I can tell already that we are alike in temperament, humor, and attitude. That means one day, we'll be at war. Sometimes we already are. But, damn, I like that kid.

Tomorrow my Lulo turns four. He has his moments but the other Moms tell me how smiley and polite he is. Isn't that rad? Everyone says that every time they see Lulo...he is smiling. I can't be messing him up that bad. He is a crack up who smiles all the time. The teacher is impressed by his focus and his memorization skills. He is a good kid. I am a lucky Mama.

Funny Little Things That I Want to Remember about Lulo on the Eve of his Birthday:

He bites his lower lip when he is doing crafts. We've been doing little ones before bed lately. He thinks so hard but is so proud of his creations.
He is still obsessed with elephants.
He still sucks his thumb.
He "reads" books alone when he wakes up in the morning.
He knows his alphabet and numbers, is trying to read, knows every animal. Every. Animal. Scarlet Macaw, Tapir, Sloth, Pygmy Marmoset.
He likes to sleep in his underwear. No more shorts or pants.
He has to wear socks that are really stretched out. The older and crappier, the better. He calls them "cool socks".
He asks me to tickle him. Then begs me to stop, over and over.
He is starting to play with his brothers and really incorporating them in games and make believe.
He sings and makes up little songs. He has a nice voice.
He says "I am having a tough time" and "I need a break". Really.
He loves sweets, fruits, and vegetables. He is picky about meats.

I love you, Lulo. These have been a great four years. I will always work to be a better person because of you.

Maybe One Day

2010-09-30T08:35:00.000-07:00

This morning, I just needed to go diarrhea and not have two little midgets fighting and ripping the doorknob out of the door to get in. I needed to focus on the diarrhea and the heat that was rising up my torso. The burn in my stomach. The accompanying nausea. To not be able to go diarrhea in peace anymore, it's just not a good turn of events. I couldn't really put it off or hold it until I had some help. When you have to go, you have to go. And then after banging at my door incessantly, while I suffered, for about four minutes. I began to hear them throw toys around...grab for things to high for them. Make a mess. Fight with each other. And then, that was almost worse because someone losing an eye while I had diarrhea would also be a poor direction for the day to take.

How do you explain that to the ER? I left my three children under the age of four to kill each other because I did not want a pool of poop on my floor that belonged to me instead of them.

I haven't been well since Sunday and I am not pleased.

Come Home Now.

2010-09-27T19:24:00.000-07:00

My husband and I have our own practice that does not require us to "go into an office". I think this is a blessing the vast majority of the time - no commute, a very lax dress code, easy snacks, and short visits with the kids when I choose.

The downside of course, is that sometimes, sitting back to back with my husband every day, five days a week, is less than joyful. I think couples are meant to be apart sometimes. He is a good person and I like him but you just can't hear the same person's voice all the time. It's going to get less interesting at some point.

Of the two of us, I am actually the one that gets out more. I go pick up the kids from school. I do the grocery shopping. And, I am the one who does the "networking". I have a leadership role in a local organization that has me out and about usually once a week. So, he gets to be "home alone" much more than I do. It's nice to be home alone and when J leaves I sort of savor those days. I still do everything I normally do but it's like a little break from his commentary, the tap tap of his keyboard, the buzzing of his cell phone, the telling me to get off Facebook and bill...you know what I mean?

Well, today, he was gone. All day. He left at 10 and still is not back and it's 7:30. I miss him. Is that weird? I sort of got sad during the kids' bedtime when I was doing it alone. It is now doable to put all 3 kids down by myself. But, it was sad. He has this fabulous energy at bed time where we run around dancing and he flings the children onto our huge bean bag and he wrestles with them. The kids pretty much adore him and watch him like he is a hero. They laugh from their bellies when he is there. Frankly, my fling onto the bean bag was sorry...at best. I think I also hurt my wrist while flinging our heavy boned 39 lb twin. No bueno. I also don't do good "voices" when we read and my tolerance for nonsense is low.

I really like J. I am lucky not just for the short commute down the stairs but the short commute down the stairs to see J, who works hard into the wee hours and yet still makes appearances for snuggling with the kids and putting trains together with Lulo as his prize for being "respectful" and sharing with his brothers. It's nice to have J around - I want him to come home now. I am all done with being "home alone."

The New Routine

2010-09-16T17:49:00.000-07:00

Is it weird that I still get extremely nervous and aggravated when the children decide that they are going to be difficult at bed time and they cry for no reason? I mean, I have 3 kids under 4, I should be used to the noise, the whining, the tears. But I get annoyed. Really annoyed. I am so dedicated to routine. I hold it dear. I hate when it gets all weird and changes. J says I have control issues. I do. I have them. But dude, I don't want crying over nonsense. If you cry, something better be wrong. An organ better be somewhere it should not be. There better be poop. Something. Otherwise, I just get angry. I have to deep breathe.

Their bed time is my me time. Selfish, yes? When I put them in their room in their crib, don't get out...don't cry. Just go to bed, what's the issue. I am so over them sometimes.

Yesterday, the twins lost their mind. They were crying and crying when we put them down. There is this now, long drawn out routine when it was always two books and then in the crib, Goodnight.

Now, it's little by little the twins added weird little things to become this ridiculous amalgam of lameness. I don't get it. How did we get here? How do I get out of this? I am started to hate hugs.

The New Routine that I HATE:

Bath
Books (2)
"Cholito Dance" (the first addition - a ridiculous dance so termed by their father whereby the children all march out of the room and dance around a huge bean bag we have)
Fly (the second addition - their father grabs them all and flings them onto said pillow about 32 times - each day someone is injured mildly by a plastic toy or by a limb of someone else.)
Cholito Dance back to the room
Mr. Knickerbocker Song and Dance (Hey Mr. Knickerbocker boppity bop...)
Ladybug - I honestly have no friggen idea how this started but I fully blame our last ridiculous nanny. There is a door stopper thing on the door and the kids call it a lady bug and we have to hoist them up to close the ladybug...every. damn. day.
Light - Everyone has to turn the light on and off - and then if someone does it more than once - they both do.
Crib.

Now at this point, everyone wants numerous hugs - numerous like 1200. Like, I leave and they cry for more. I can't hug them anymore. Yesterday, I barely survived. They cried for more hugs and then more and then more and then more and then when we let Jojo cry....HE CLIMBED OUT OF HIS CRIB. Really? REALLY? Do you wanna go there after all those damn hugs? I am so done with this routine. It's ridiculous. I want out.

The Family "Vacation" - Part III

2010-09-13T21:17:00.000-07:00

After I was not able to survive another night sharing a suite with my own children*, we headed home after Sea World.

*I do realize that there are, of course, people all over the world who fit 32 people in a suite the size that we had. And in that square footage they manage a kitchen and no indoor plumbing and further manage to continue to reproduce so that in 10 months there are 42 people in a suite the size we had. But, yo, I am in America and I believe in charitable giving to improve the quality of life in said 42 person space so let's just move on shall we.*

So, anyhow, we decided after spending $54 at the WAP on a inedible lunch that J and I ate because we were hungry and that the children did not at all, we were NOT going to eat lunch at Sea World. I had enough snacks to feed the entire Sea World population that day so we figured - large breakfast, lots of snacks, early dinner. We expected everyone to sleep on the way home as it was a two hour drive and I woke everyone up about 15 minutes before reaching our dinner destination to aid in the transition of sleep to wake.

Let me just say, I am the mother that I would have balked at 3 years ago. I am that mother. I have never, in my whole life, seen such rotten, misbehaved children in my life. And to my utter shock and embarrassment, they were mine. Lulo really was the only one who ate but that really did not make him any kind of a superstar. The twins were difficult...even about the bread. They always eat the bread. They kept ripping of their shoes and then insisting that we put them back on. THEN. STOP. TAKING. THE. DAMN. THINGS. OFF.

Lulo kept getting up and down in the booth. Both twins insisted on getting out of their high chair which I have a strict "no way in hell" policy about that has something to do with The Breakfast Club and anarchy. J acquiesced and released Juju. And so, of course, Jojo wanted out. I pulled him out. Both high chairs toppled as I held Jojo. Jojo was pinned underneath one by his feet as I tugged at him. A party of 10 watched and waited as I tried to get Jojo out of his toppled high chair as my back spasmed and Juju crawled under my butt while he was fighting with Lulo over a polar bear. Then they all went under the booth and crawled around in gum and sticky floor and some E. Coli and Staphylococcus. They took turns going from one side to the other and then back and would take a break to fling a fork or knife or napkin or bear or penguin or shark and then proceed to cry about it.

Yep, I was that mother. It was really bad. Meanwhile, I was fuming, wondering how it was possible that I did not have a brain aneurysm yet. And our youngish waitress kept exchanging pleasantries and I really just was not able to be nice anymore. It was bad. So, so, bad. So bad that I didn't go to Pinkberry next door after dinner and I was jonesing for another hit of their Original flavor which my friend Mini has told me is laced with crack and I just couldn't go. All I could do was walk, head down, with Jojo in a fireman's carry in my arms, and the diaper bag on my back, and Juju in J's arms and Lulo dragging behind and buckle them in their car seats and get the hell home.

We got home and I drank rum and coke and tried to forget that those children were mine and I was that mother. It didn't work...I still remember and I write about it here to remember it forever.

A Family "Vacation" - Part II

2010-09-12T18:09:00.000-07:00

We couldn't hack the weekend. Let's just get that out there.

The intention was to drive to San Diego on Friday and go to the Wild Animal Park. Go to the Hyatt at Mission Bay and spend the night. Our first night as a family in a hotel. Then, wake up the next day, go to Sea World, head to the hotel whenever we were tired. Stay another night at our hotel and come back to our oasis in Pomona.

At around 9:30 pm on Friday night, our first night with three kids trapped in a hotel suite, I looked at my J and said, "want me to see if I can get us out of paying for tomorrow night so that we can go home after Sea World tomorrow?"

First, because he knows better, J coached me for 20 minutes on the fact that whether we could get out of paying for an extra night was irrelevant and lectured me on how I should talk to the front desk...because you know that I would have said "Yo, this hotel sucks, and you suck, and I wanna go home." Anyhow, I was able to call and finnagle us out of the second night and they waived our parking fees. Wasn't that nice? Aren't I so capable? Go me. An average mother...an above average negotiator.

Now, lest you think that the experience was a nightmare. It wasn't. The boys were actually boys. I was just done. Well done. And really, I would not have survived the second night. We had a good time at the WAP. We got to the hotel. We went to the pool. Juju went down the pool slide so may times...he would say "Again" before he even hit the water. We splashed and played. We ate dinner at the hotel - they actually ate fairly easily. We got to the suite that I had outfitted with two cribs and a roll away bed. Oh, and that is where the fun began.

Don't get me wrong. I had crazily low expectations about how the night would go. No illusions of sleep even entered my head. The boys were all together in one room for the first time and it was actually kind of funny. Lulo would yell about how he was trying to sleep and they wouldn't let him. The twins were pushing my buttons telling me they were poopie...but of course, they weren't. But, then, Juju was. Then Juju was singing "Last Christmas" by George Michael. And then Jojo joined in just to sing the word "special". Special indeed. Then, Luk had to pee. Then, they all wanted to get up and it was anarchy. Then, I had a mental breakdown that I am certain Room 2106 heard and J explained to me that I really am not fit to be a mother.

Then, I ended up sleeping on the couch in their room until everyone crashed. First, Jojo, then, Lulo, then Juju. Juju kept messing around asking Lulo if he was awake or not and the first 12 times Lulo would say "MOOOOOOOM, Juju won't let me sleep". OMG, they can never share a room. An evening like this is not likely to repeat for at least a year or twelve. There is no way I am doing this hotel nonsense again.

I was so gross from the heat that day and gazelle petting and what not and I couldn't shower because I didn't to want to wake up the kids and reignite the shenanigans. I couldn't really talk to J above a whisper. I couldn't get internet access on my crackberry. Vacation my ass...my nerves were raw, I was tired, my wine bottle stashed in my duffel bag was just too far away, my feet were dirty and there weren't any of my disciples around to wash my feet, the poopie diaper was making the whole room smell and I couldn't locate a plastic bag without making noise.

It was then that I called the hotel from the balcony to negotiate our release. Lulo woke up at 4 am to pee and I brought him into "our" portion of the suite as partitioned by a sliding door. He had a total cow about the rubber lizard he was sleeping with and wanted me to obtain it from the room with the twins. So, there we were arguing about a rubber lizard at 4 am. There was no way, on God's green earth, that I was going to sneak into the twins room and wake them up to find his rubber lizard. No way.

Anyhow, bottom line. We came home after Sea World and for the first time, we got off the freeway at Fairplex, I saw that grand Ferris wheel turning in front of my house, I saw the Pomona hoodlums, walking down the hill...and I smiled. I heart you Pomona because you aren't the Hyatt and we all have our own rooms.

A Family "Vacation" - Part I

2010-09-12T15:25:00.000-07:00

We decided to go to San Diego for a long weekend (Friday to Sunday) with the kids. Stay at a hotel. Go to some Theme Parks. The next few posts will tell the tale. This is Part I. There is no particular logical order.

***

A friend told me that to avoid the constant nagging of a child asking for stuff at store to tell them, when you walk in, that you will not get them anything if they ask for it, but you will get them something at the end of the day if they don't ask and they are well behaved. I thought this sounded reasonable. So, I tried to drill this in Lulo's head.

And it worked. Sort of. Instead of asking me for various stuff and plastic toys constantly on Saturday, Lulo waited until he knew the day was dying down and asked, about 20 times in 30 minutes, whether I was forgetting something.

Sigh.

Salt, Pepper, and Piss

2010-09-09T21:53:00.000-07:00

Today, we were eating a forgettable lunch when J leaned over, grabbed an unruly white hair growing out of my head, and ripped it out. I am graying. I am graying so much and so fast that J is noticing it at lunch. And honestly, J wouldn't notice if I was bald so this was quite monumental. The good news is he did not rip the gray hair out of my chin. The bad news is that I seem to be keeping pace with President Obama in how quickly I am graying this year.

I think that the amount of gray hair is directly proportional to the amount of interrupted sleep I have experience since Lulo decided to stop peeing and pooping in a Pull Up. Now, he comes out of his room any number of times a night and very early in the morning to pee exactly 2 drops of urine....or sit on the toilet singing or...sit on the toilet playing with his little friend (which is another post). Meanwhile, he announces the experience in his whiniest, loudest most horrible voice such that it echos in the stillness of the house at all hours:

I.
Need.
To.
Go.
Pee?
Pee?

And he says it, over and over again until someone comes and watches him pee. And he pisses with glee and goes back to bed. And I lay there, seething, feeling another hair go white...waiting for him to come out of his room not even 18 minutes later to say again:

I.
Need.
To.
Go.
Pee?
Pee?

Did I not read every damn sleep training book? Was he not on an predictable schedule? Wasn't it so lovely when I could put him to bed at night and wouldn't see him until I was good and ready in the morning- exercised, showered, caffeinated? Did he not play quietly in his room until I retrieved him not even 3 months ago? Oh sigh.

I need to figure out this gray hair situation because if this will happen in triplicate once the twins are potty trained, I won't handle it well.

Really? I have twins?

2010-09-08T17:00:00.000-07:00

You would think that the day I had an ultrasound and they told me "did you know you were having twins?" was the day that I would have come to the realization that I actually would have twins. However, I still wake up a bit surprised that I have twins sometimes. Like, really, are those people mine. Are all three of these mine? How did this happen? I am not really a "I just pooped my baby into a toilet" type person. I know how babies are made and knew that they were coming....but really, this twin thing is still sort of amazing to me.

Anyhow, the only reason I am thinking about this is because it hit me recently, again, with great force, that I indeed have to support three children. I was going to enroll the twins in the school where Lulo goes a few months ago and they just started today. And it sort of multiplied in my brain...whatever I put Lulo in, whatever I offer him, whatever he gets to do...two more people will have to do or will want to do or should be offered to do...in a year or so. Dude, that's a lot of cash and time and energy. Part of me wants them to like the same stuff so I can kind of do it all together. Part of me hopes to hell that they are into sports that require no equipment...like maybe, um, CROSS COUNTRY RUNNING! Woohoo. It took me a minute to conjure up a sport with no equipment. Are shoes equipment? Tennis would work, soccer too. Hockey, football, private schools, summer camps. Holy shit.

I wrote the check for triple the tuition on Tuesday. 10% multiple child discount doesn't really do nothing for me right now. Nada.

I Need Space

2010-06-30T12:59:00.000-07:00

Lulo's been telling me, everyday for a week now, that he doesn't want to go to school.

Why?

"Because it's not funny."

Well, it's not supposed to be funny. He's been in rare form, every day. I honestly don't know what his deal is. He gets to school and doesn't want to eat...he always used to be happy and bounce to the table (except on oatmeal days.)

He says he wants "space." Ah, conscious discipline how you encourage the use of words like "space" and "I am not ready." Pppfffft....I'll show him space, I'll show him not ready.

"Mama, mama, can you wipe my butt?" says Lulo at 5:30 am for the last couple weeks.
"Nope, sorry, I am not ready. I need space," says Mama.

OK. I am reverting to a 3 year old.

So, I have been cranky and pensive about Lulo's recently general displeasure with all things life related. I have been trying to look for the silver lining besides the loving husband, the new patio furniture, and the healthy children and parents. And, I found it today in an unlikely place.

I decided to do some observation. I went to Lulo's school today for their weekly walk, which I never do, and exploration of the LA County Fairgrounds (btw fair grounds are so not fair sans fair). Here is what I found out:

1. Lulo was extremely crazily happy to have me there. He told me he loved me 30 times. He proudly held my hand showing me off to his friends. He was happy as a clam for exactly 60 minutes during the walk.

2. Lulo is a really good kid - he listens to directions, he doesn't talk back, he is quiet, pensive, participatory, says intelligent things...he doesn't flail, wander off, ignore the teacher, or throw 30 tantrums. He's a good kid.

3. Is it really bad that I was thankful 40 times that Lulo was my kid and not this other kid who lost his mind about the stupidest shit about 12 times in 60 minutes? He touched me. Waaaa. The petal on my flower fell off. Waaa. I don't want to walk. Waaaa. I need to pee. Waaa. I don't like the bathroom. Waaa. And so on, and so on. I wanted to spank him or tell him to stop whining already but...he wasn't my kid and I was pleased.

4. Is it really bad that I was thankful 32 times that I have no girls. The skipping and the whispering and the giggling, and the holding hands all over the place and hugging...just that 60 minutes with them was all that I need for the rest of my life. Girls are totally annoying.

Anyhow, that's what I learned. So, even though Lulo has been sort of a pain as of late...other kids are worse and at least he is not a girl.

After the walk, I went to Costco during the hour before I had to pick him up. The chicken I bought experienced some leakage and so salmonella is everywhere. I was late because apparently you can't buy food at the Obesity Mart outside Costco with a credit card so I had to go in and get cash. I hate Salmonella. Chicken juice is the most vile thing ever.

I got to school, finally, scrubbed my hands in the school bathroom like I was going into surgery and got Lulo who was curled up in a corner because he needed "space." And he said, "I am not happy right now" about 12 times in the 2.5 minute drive up the hill.

Well, you know what little man, I need space from chicken juice and Costco and the nanny leaving and everything because things are just not funny right now and I am not happy.

Strike that. I am not happy about chicken juice and cash only and the soon to be ex-nanny.... but the fact that Lukas, my little boy, loves me and told me that over and over even though he's not happy, ready, and nothing is funny...that's sort of nice. With that said, I could use a little space.

The Ex-Nanny Chronicles Part V: Jaded, Soooo Jaded

2010-06-17T20:10:00.000-07:00

On Monday, the day after I got back from a week long trip to D.C. , my current nanny gave me notice, at 7:45 a.m. Her timing was soooo impeccable. Anyhow, she is a nice lady, not Maria von Trapp, but she lasted about 6 months. She wants to work with the geriatric population rather than my adorable kids. At least that's what she's told me. I am sort of obsessing that I am the problem with the way nannies go through here. Her predecessors, the ones who lasted more than 30 seconds, all stayed a year or more. It can't be that bad working with my family - even if I can be a control freak and a little temperamental.

Anyhow, I can't really ponder her leaving for very long because I need to locate her replacement. She wasn't perfect but she was nice and loving with my kids. And was very diligent and careful and what else can you ask for. /Shrug. I guess I need to just be OK with the fact that nannies come and go and unless I become a SAHM, nanny interviews, nanny hiring, nanny firing, and nanny departures will be a part of my life for a few years. (Oh, no chance I'll be a SAHM because even though I love those kids, I sooooo TGIM sometimes.)

Anyhow, I had to revisit Jade, my favorite ex-nanny, so that I could start feeling better about myself and my rotating front door when it comes to nannies...

One night while she was on my computer in my kitchen, after the kids had gone nightnight, she was horrified that she was bouncing several checks. Apparently, the "you need to have money in your account" thing didn't resonate with her. Anywho, she asked me to pay her for the one day she had worked (I paid every Friday and it was Monday), so that she could replenish her balance so that she could buy...the CUTEST Halloween costume...so she could look just like Kate Perry.
Another night, while she was on my computer in my kitchen, after the kids had gone nightnight, she got a phone call. It was about 10 p.m. She put the call on speaker, conferenced in another person and spoke at full volume. I had to come downstairs and ask her to keep it down because I was trying to sleep. And, rather than go down to her room to talk, she took it off of speakerphone and loudly finished her conversation.
The kids were taking a nap one day and I was downstairs working, you know, real actual billable work. Rather than be productive and accomplish her to-do list, she came to my office. Then, she waited impatiently while I got off the phone (with a client), and then asked if she could go to the gas station and get a Red Bull while the kids napped. Um, yeah sure.
She scratched herself all the time. Her arms, her legs, her chest. Soooo strange. She didn't seem all that concerned about the fact that she was scratching herself...all. the. time. Finally, one day, she asked to go to a doctor's appointment which I heartily agreed to and she said she'd be back by noon. She showed up at like 2 claiming the doctor took forevah to see her. After I fired her, I noticed that she had left her Facebook logged in on my computer and really, that day, she was at the DMV.
She texted so much while she should have been focusing on my mobile but unsteady toddlers that she had an indentation on her palm from holding her iPhone. How did she even AFFORD an iPhone?

Yep, it's not me who is flawed. I am not Murphy Brown...right? This kind of nonsense would make ANYONE crazy, right? No way to make lemonade out of this lemon. No way.

The Deal Breaker

2010-06-05T19:01:00.000-07:00

When J and I first started dating, after we started settling into the fact that things seemed to be going well....J called me from work and said he wanted to talk to me about something that weekend but wouldn't say what. I begged and pleaded and he would not say. I would not say I am a patient person. So, he showed up that weekend and before he could even say "Hello", I insisted he telling what was on his mind.

He said, that there were two deal breakers that would end our relationship. The first was that we could not circumcise any boys that we would have. (My boys are currently uncut.) That was easy.

The second deal breaker was my potty mouth. He indicated that he hated that I swore so much. It was not classy, professional, and it was not what he wanted to hear the rest of his life. Nor was it what he wanted his children to hear. He essentially thought it was trashy.
***

Lulo has penguins. Three 3-inch plastic penguins. I spend at least 20 minutes a day wondering where they are or looking for them or checking up on them so I don't have to look for them. 20 minutes a day. 140 minutes a week. That's two hours. I don't think I am exaggerating. When one of these penguins are lost (and one was for exactly two months and we had to obtain a replacement), it creates a meltdown of Biblical proportions. See Ghostbusters.

I have impaled my finger looking for the penguins. I have almost gotten into a car accident. I have been on my hands and knees under couches, cribs, beds, futons, movie theater seats, bathrooms. I have fished the penguins out of toilets and sinks. They have scratched me, been thrown at me. I have sat on them, stepped on them. Both hurt like hell.

These penguins have often gotten more of my time than Juju and Jojo. They are driving me insane. If I am ever institutionalized, it will be over these penguins and their whereabouts. They piss me off. They anger me. They madden me. They make me anxious because I don't know when we will lose them next.

They are pretty much irreplaceable. He calls them Grandma Penguin and Mama Penguin. The other penguin is sort of without name. I don't know why. I have to know which one is which at all times. If I don't he yells at me. Last week my mother brilliantly put a "G" in pink highlighter on the penguins belly so all of us would always know. Tattooing the penguin was not problematic.

Anyhow, they have caused me to swear here and again. Yes, swearing was a deal breaker but a zebra can't change it stripes.
***

And so now Lulo says, "where are my effing penguins?"

He actually says EFFING because I try not to say FUCK in front of him when I am looking for them! Fuck, how did I end up here?

A Decade in Review

2010-01-03T19:37:00.001-08:00

I saw this on another blog and thought it would be an interesting post so here goes...

2000: I was in my second semester of my first year of law school at LLS. I am in a study group with all guys. Arthur is a particularly annoying guy who does not know how to make his own sandwich and asks me to handle it for him during a study group session. I was glad when he transferred out at the end of the year. Brian tells me I will be a terrible wife and mother because I have no domestic skills and I can't cook. I tell him I don't want kids anyway. I lived next to the Beverly Center with a very very happy girl named Jill who I don't speak to anymore because she lost the cable boxes when we moved out and stiffed me with the bill. Good times. I went to Greece that summer to "study" abroad for 10 weeks...I got REALLY homesick. Got back and started my second year of law school.

2001: Still in law school. Really, that occupied most of my time and energy. I studied a lot. I got a job at a firm that summer and that firm is now no longer in existence. It taught me a lot about people and about how law firms work. I actually stayed at that firm until I graduated at which time they let me go when the two main partners went to work for a much larger firm. Nice timing. I know. In the Fall of 2001, I started my third and final year of law school and tried out for the Giles Sutherland Rich Moot Court team and made the team.

2002: I started my last semester of law school and started going to practice rounds for the Moot Court competition. We went to various Socal firms where we got drilled by attorneys at those firms to prepare us. At one of those firms, I met J. He talked to me by an elevator, he wasn't wearing a ring, and I liked him. But I was busy dating a guy my parents hated. When the competition ended, I sent him a thank you note, he asked me out to dinner...then he asked me to go dancing. I fell in love with J and called my best friend that night to tell her I'd marry him. The next day I dumped the guy my parents hated. In July 2002, I took the California State Bar. In August 2002, I went to Peru with J. In November 2002, I found out I passed the Bar which was AMAZING. So, I sent out 12000 resumes because I was unemployed. In December 2002, I sent an email to an attorney (Marc) who interviewed me at one point wishing him a Happy Birthday...we had the same birthday. He hired me and I went to work in January.

2003: I worked for a big downtown law firm. I wore suits every day (except Friday when I wore jeans). I met my good friend Liz and we had Starbucks and went to this breakfast burrito place all the time. It was awesome. I worked and worked and loved it. It was fun and good times. J proposed on March 20th, less than a year after our first date. We got married on August 30th. We honeymooned on the Cayman Islands. We moved into our condo in Los Al and we fought all the time except when we did not fight. J was building his parents' house so he went there every Saturday and most Sundays which was SUCH a HUGE point of contention. {{It is funny now because I am so happy when J leaves these days. Ha.}}

2004: Still working for the downtown law firm and then on St. Patrick's Day the shit hit the fan and Marc, the partner I worked for, leaves the firm. Everyone wanted me to stay but I felt my future was with Marc and I am a loyal person. So, I left the big downtown law firm. Marc is charismatic, interesting, smart. We raid the offices of a client of his that owes him some coin and we start working on the case that forced him to leave the firm. The office has orange Mr. Furley chairs and no light in the bathroom. Much, much drama ensues. Though it felt like crap, I resign and take an in house position at a nutritional supplement company as IP counsel starting January 2005.

2005: Here I am, working in house. There is no variability in the hours but the people are nice. I pass the patent bar. I work. I go to a meeting up in Gig Harbor, WA. The guys up there are not warm and fuzzy. They want an in house IP counsel up in Gig Harbor. I wouldn't move to Gig Harbor if you deeded me Gig Harbor. I get laid off and negotiate a nice severance package and then I am home, alone, trying to figure out what to do next. J tells me to start my own practice. He tells me that every day. I have no clients. Not a one. So, I print cards on my printer. Create a website and start my own practice. I network, all the time. I despise networking but I start getting clients. In July, we go to Greece and J meets my extended family. J sees me happy and getting clients and growing a practice. He decides to quit his job and join me. We start trying to have a baby.

2006: In January 2006, I find out that I am pregnant and am due October 1st. We still live in our little condo in Los Al but we are building a house in Pomona that we were going to sell. Neither of us commute anywhere anymore so it does not matter where we live. J convinces me that we should move to Pomona which should be ready before the baby is born. I concede with the strong proviso that we will not stay in Pomona any longer than we have to. {We are still in Pomona...sigh.} In September, we (VERY PREGNANT me and J) move to Pomona but there is no gas or electricity. I go to my parents house while Julio roughs it in Pomona. A pregnant woman in her ninth month has no business being in a 110 degree house that has no air conditioning. My OB tells me to have the baby any day but October 2nd because that is Yom Kippur and she is not working. I go into labor at 5 am on October 2nd and by 5:40 pm, I had my Lulo. My angel baby. Now, I am a new Mom. I live at my parents' house until the week before Thanksgiving and move home, to Pomona, with my baby and my J.

2007: I love Lulo. We move into the house that now has temporary electricity and gas. I have a series of college girls who are nannies. I work. I adjust. I become a fan of letting Lulo cry it out and schedules and nap time and meal time. It works for us. Lulo is a good baby. Happy. I think things are actually going kind of nice. I get pregnant again in August and the ultrasound shows one baby. In September, I start puking and literally cannot stop. I puke and puke and puke and puke and puke. I have never been sick so much in my entire life. I can keep nothing down. I drag myself to an appointment, alone, where another OB tells me that I am in fact carrying twins and that one of them appears to not be well, probably Turner's Syndrome. I need an CVS STAT. I admit myself to hospital. Get an IV for the afternoon since I am dehydrated and dying, literally. The next day I get my CVS. The next day I end up in the hospital again for a week because I still can keep nothing down. I am a mess - thyroid is off, heart is off because of thyroid, more puking. Kids not doing well. Lots of tears, lots of dilemmas. In November I find out, not Turner's actually, Twin Twin Transfusion Syndrome. Ultrasounds 2-3x a week. Tons of appointments, waiting, lots of unknown.

2008: The twins were viable (24 weeks gestation) on January 10, 2008 and that's when they admitted me to the hospital. J stayed home. Lulo moved in with my parents. My heart ached. I did not leave the hospital until after they were born on March 25th. Then, my miracles were born, Juju and Jojo. Amazing. It was quite a ride. Scary, frustrating. 2008 is a blur of tears and frustration and survival. I juggle and work and survive.

2009: All three boys and J are great. I look at myself and I am a heiff. I join Extreme Bootcamp and chronicle that on my blog, this blog which I started last year. I still do EB. I lost some weight, I gained some weight, I feel sooo much healthier. I work. I got nominated to be president elect of my local NAWBO chapter. I reconnect with people on Facebook. I fit into my clothes again. J and I start to have a more normal existence and resume a pattern. Lulo starts preschool and he grows and changes and talks all the time and is this little fabulous person who is into elephants and penguins and dinosaurs and challenging my patience and sanity. And, I am amazed and stunned by him. Juju and Jojo astound me. They are doing well. So well that I cannot believe how close I came to losing them and I just love to watch them and tickle them. I think they are all too cute for words, though, I clearly do not lack for words. We go to the Dominican Republic in August. We work. Our firm is doing well. We are growing. I can't and won't complain.

It's been quite a decade. You don't realize it until you write it down. I am blessed. I wonder what the next 10 will bring.

Tromba

2009-12-17T17:05:00.000-08:00

So, Lulo is sort of into Christmas this year and along with the story of Mary, Jofef and Baby Jesus he knows that he is getting some presents.

Now, I asked him what he wants and he said: "An Elephant."
What else do you want? An Elephant Tromba. (Tromba is the Portuguese word for "trunk". Two Portuguese nannies and a absentee mother...do the math.)

Anyhow, he wants this because Murray on Sesame Street spent a whole episode wearing an elephant tromba the other day. And Murray's sort of appeared to be made of a rubber band and a vacuum tube. Um, this is all I can find?

If 3 people tell me this is not phallic or frightening, then I will buy it. Speak now before the shipping charges kill me.

Need Further Information

2009-12-08T16:58:00.000-08:00

The last time I went to Disneyland was with J before we got married over 6 years ago. My cousin is somehow affiliated with Disney and she gave us tickets as a gift for some pre-wedding festivity, perhaps the bridal shower. Anyhow, we went and it was fine. We were pretty much in agreement that we would never go back unless our future children had somehow been told that there was a place called Disneyland in existence and that they had to go for some homework assignment/field trip.

The funny thing is that I think that this commonality and one other thing that makes me a little strange cemented my relationship with J. Most people have deal breakers and I think my 2 deal breakers would have been (1) a spouse who wanted a season pass to Disneyland and (2) a spouse who wanted to have a dog or animal of any kind living in my house or on my property that I would be required to feed or care for. J basically agrees with this and so when times are rough (and they aren't often), I always think back to these two particular things and love J even more because (1) he'll never ask me if we can get a dog and (2) he'll never take me to Disneyland. I heart him.

Anyhow, I digress, as of late with this Facebook phenomenon whereby you can see everyone's status updates, I have noted that I have a lot of friends who totally LOVE Disneyland. They go at every opportunity. It completely baffles me. Can a Disney lover tell me why they love it? Let me into your world. I want to understand. Long lines abound. It is SO expensive. The food isn't notable. Am I doing something wrong? Where is the happy at the happiest place on earth?

A season pass at Disneyland is $429/person. To go for one day to Disneyland, for my family (excluding the twins because they are still 20 months) it would be $206. $206. I can get an 80 minute massage, a cocktail, and dinner for $206. Ok, that's selfish. The other day I managed to get my kids a HUGE BAG of clothes consisting of what is essentially their entire winter wardrobe for less than $200.

Moreover, I really can't go anywhere with these little people for more than a 3-4 hours or so because then they spontaneously combust with exhaustion and I proceed to combust. So, I would pay $206 for my entire family to disintegrate into tears in less than 4 hours.

Alright, so, I won't get to see the pure joy in the eyes of my children. I would pay $206 for the pure joy in the eyes of my children but is that why you Disney-philes flock there? Because honestly, I can get pure joy at the zoo and the kids almost burst with joy at the aquarium a few weeks ago and it was perfectly doable in a 4 hour block of time without breaking the budget. And then, there are those people who always loved Disneyland - as kids, as adults, pre-kids, post-kids, etc. And they will always completely baffle me. I almost can't imagine any place I would want to be less (excluding jail, underground tunnels trying to cross the border, and traffic school).

I need an explanation. Digame.

You Can't Change DNA

2009-12-02T19:19:00.000-08:00

Though, I have not been diagnosed as clinically obsessive compulsive, J often jokes about the things that I am extremely anal about and how I need things a certain way. I am getting better now that chaos and Fisher-Price have exploded in my abode. But, we are very routined around here, and in my own existence, things are done the same way, all the time, or I get a little flustered and off.

Examples, the sheets have to be just right so I can sleep. If the sheets are messy in any way, then I will get out of bed and make the bed and then unmake it so I can sleep. J makes fun of me because he says I make the bed in the morning while he is still in it. {Sheepishly, yes, I make my half but otherwise, he doesn't and then I have to look at a mess.} Anyhow, that is beside the point.

When I was a kid, I remember repeatedly getting up out of bed because I was not sure if I had checked the closets for the monsters and The Night Stalker. Closet and then under the bed, maybe 7 times. I use the word kid loosely because I think I just stopped doing this in my 20s.
I also had the same Good Night ritual with my Mom, every single night. I would say the same thing in the same order. And, if she did not respond correct or if I did not hear it, or if I wanted it said again, then I would keep saying it and saying it and saying it. Totally psycho. And yet, my Mother never was like OMG GOOD NIGHT FRIGGEN ALREADY!!!

OK, OCD. So, here is my question. My Lulo is totally like me and you know what, it drives me a little nuts sometimes, makes me laugh other times. Mostly the nuts one. Am I allowed to get annoyed sometimes when he is really just doing what a little me would have done? Is this my genetic curse?

He wants his blankets on a certain way and if I tuck him in a little different, if the satin on one of his blankets is flipped over a little bit. He is like FIX THE BLANKET, FIX IT, FIX IT, FIX IT. And then, his Good Night ritual is the same, he wants to hear it, he wants to hear it the same way every night and he makes me repeat it and repeat it until it is how he wants it. I have a 100 examples of this kind of nonsense. These are just a few that are 100% identical to me.

He is soooo my kid. But, I do not think it is right to get irritated when he really is just me all over again. I mean, come on! He can't help himself, his genetic code is embedded with this anal retentive, weird borderline OCD stuff. I love that kid. He may not look like me, but he is totally me. How did my mother do this?

Discrimination in the Work Place

2009-12-01T13:32:00.000-08:00

I know this is primarily a blog talking about my family and life and stuff. But, I do work. I am an attorney and my husband and I have our own practice specializing in intellectual property. The only reason the area of law is relevant is because this is not Family Law or some area where you may prefer to have a male or female attorney because of some kind of philandering issue or some money grubbing whore issue. Anyhow, the reason I bring this up is because today my Assistant fielded a call from a potential client that I thought was so comical and I am trying to get to the bottom of it.

The man called and said he wanted a "male attorney only." My assistant (a female) asked him what kind of issue this was regarding and he responded "internet law". She told him that the "man" here does not really do internet law and that most of these matters are handled by ME (not a man) and that I am FABULOSA.

He tried to convince her to put him through to the "man." (Seriously, he did.) But she was wise and did not put him through. (A) J would tell him that he does not handle internet matters and (B) on principle alone, GO FIND A MAN ELSEWHERE!!!

This firm was founded by a woman. Look at our WEBSITE (which is where he found us) - 75% WOMEN ATTORNEYS. Figure it out.

And because I am a discriminating a-hole with a middle eastern father who I respect and love dearly even though he'd rather talk to J than me, I asked her if he sounded like an AY-rab. Nope. No accent. And so, it was just some dude who likes dudes. And I don't get it? A porno website? Maybe that is the only thing - lots of tits and ass on the website and so he was like, how can I ask a woman to click the OVER 18 box and look at tits and ass? Just thought this was humorous. A MAN ONLY. A penis is the only thing that could solve his internet issue? Bastard. Hope he finds a MAN who charges him too much and does not pay for his porno subscription. OK, am I wrong here? Seriously, I don't get it. Why call a professional law office and ask for a man? I get wanting a woman gynecologist, I even get wanting a particular sex for a family lawyer, but OUR firm? Seriously? Gimme a break.

Puzzle Pieces.

2009-11-25T21:02:00.000-08:00

20 months ago today, the twins were born after a long hard pregnancy. And so, of course, today on Thanksgiving-eve, I am thankful for a whole boatload of stuff - my family and friends most of all.

But, today, 20 months to the day of their glorious and splendid birth, I am very thankful for the fact after many many attempts over the last several months and a heated session this evening in the garage, J and I finally figured out how to fit the twin stroller AND Lulo's stroller in the trunk of the minivan.

If that is not a marker of success in a marriage and in parenthood, then I don't know what is. Happy Thanksgiving.

The Ex-Nanny Chronicles Part IV: Jane Doe

2009-11-23T16:06:00.001-08:00

Before Herpes nanny, we had Jane Doe nanny. And the reason I call her this is not because she died without identification but because I cannot remember her name. She was young, bright eyed, and bushy tailed. She came to an interview all dressed up and just so. Her cousin brought her and she was also one of her references because Jane had been taking care of her kids.

Anyhow, she came on a Sunday night with all her stuff. She loved scrapbooking and took copious notes (like 4 pages worth) on my one page to do list. This should have been a sign. What can you annotate next to "Do Laundry." She had squiggly big letters that reminded me of this girl in high school who used wide ruled paper, took up the ENTIRE line, and dotted her i's with hearts.

Jane came on a Monday, on Tuesday night she locked herself out of the house when she went outside for a walk at midnight, on Wednesday she came into my office crying that she missed her family in New Mexico and was giving her notice...for Friday! She then asked me to help her buy her plane ticket with her paycheck that she had yet to earn on my computer with my credit card.

This story is funny in and of itself but the punch line was when Herpes nanny spent the night in Jane's room the first time. She came up to me and told me that she found a roach in the room.

To which I responded, "HOLY SHIT a roach. Now we have ROACHES. I hate Roaches. Ew, roaches. There is never just one roach. Ew, ROACHES. I hate roaches. We better get an exterminator in here."

To which Herpes Nanny generally responded in the following fashion, "No, Dear Tina from Orange County, not that kind of roach." This kind.

Oh, Jane Doe, let's just call you Pot Smoking Nanny.

The Cutest Nose, Evah.

2009-11-23T15:41:00.000-08:00

School pictures are a funny thing. My mother, of course, kept all of mine. It is a wonderful little catalog that highlights why I got a nose job and why the 1980's bangs that my Mom called "rooster" bangs were not flattering with my Winnebago nose (aptly termed by the very cruel Joey Termini in 5th grade.) Anyhow, moving along.

My Lulo got back his first school pictures. I picked them up from the front office this morning and everyone was all "Lulo looks SOO cute." Yes, he does, my little bubbs. Kill me now with his cuteness, I want to bite his little head off and kiss him forever. Seriously, I went and sat in my minivan and flipped through the different poses and started balling. He is growing up. He was just in utero and now I have a school picture. And in a few years, he'll have missing teeth, then acne, and hopefully his father's nose and I will be wondering where the time went.

Most of the time, I am really glad they are all getting older. I look forward to mobility and ease and leaving the house without me or one of them having a nervous breakdown. I think that is probably going to happen in the next decade. But, today, in my minivan littered with animal crackers and sippy cups with Baby Einstein music fighting the thoughts in my head, the time felt like it went really fast and I can't believe my oldest has a school picture.

The Ex-Nanny Chronicles Part 3: Thanksgiving that She is Gone

2009-11-20T15:41:00.000-08:00

My e-mail to Jade today:

Dear Jade:

I know you are busy but I have had your clothes sitting in a bag here for a while. So, by law, I have to give you 30 days notice to come pick up your stuff. Today is November 20, 2009, if you do not pick up your stuff by December 20, 2009, I will be taking it to Goodwill.

Please let me know when you plan on coming by so I can leave it outside.

***

Jade, the gift that keeps on giving.

Taking Me Out of the Equation

2009-11-19T17:14:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, J and I had a formal event to go to at night. So, I missed dinner time, bath time, bed time, reading time. With the exception of dinner, I like the nighttime routine. But, I am feeling sort of distressed about something. Maybe you have some thoughts on this, maybe not. But, I just want to say, this is not like a poor me, I am on the border of suicide type thing. It's more like, here it is and I am frustrated and sad thing.

Here is the deal. OK. Sigh.

Last night (when I wasn't around), dinner was a breeze (so I hear). Easy peasy. Lunch was a breeze. The only time any one cried is when I was there. In the mornings when I am here before work from about 7-9, there is always 1 or 2 children crying. They all want me, they all can't have me because I have yet to split into 3 whole versions of myself. So, I go to one, the others cry. I have 2, the third one cries. It is such a rare occurrence that they are all silent and pleased.

Same thing at dinner or any meal I am present for. Other than the general chaos that I believe has been discussed in some detail here on this blog. Seriously, Lulo wants me and I usually have 1 or 2 people to help with the twins (J and MIL/Nanny and J/Nanny A and Nanny B). So, I go to Lulo and then Jojo loses it. Won't eat, throws sippy cup at me to get my attention. I go to Jojo when I have a chance, Lulo stops eating and throws a fit. Lulo wants to sit on my lap. Then, Lulo will only eat on my lap. I don't like creating bad habits of him eating on my lap so I refuse, then he melts down on the floor and cries and screams. This disturbs the other 2. At this point, Juju notices that he's not with me and is like, hmm, I will throw a sippy cup at her.

Here is the thing. I like being here. Chaos and all. These are my kids. I want to be with them when I can be with them. But, honestly, they are so much happier when I am not here. They eat, there are no tears. The things that need accomplishing are accomplished. What am I DOING HERE? I feel like my presence is an invitation for melt downs and unhappiness which makes me want to remove myself entirely. But then, they don't have me and I don't have them. And we are all alone. I mean, it's good they want me but it's good when they eat and play and don't cry.

Feels like a lose-lose instead of win-win and really I just need wine wine but all that is truly happening is whine whine. Here are the kids, it's dinner time! Wish me luck!

What Should I Feed the Natives?

2009-11-16T20:40:00.000-08:00

I cook big people food and they don't eat it. (Disregard my last post, I can cook pretty decent now...it's been six years after all.)

I make kid friendly stuff - pasta without sauce, pasta with sauce, chicken nuggets, fish sticks, french fries, potatoes. They don't eat it.

I buy total crap - McDonalds? Cheeseburgers, Nuggets, Fries, etc. They don't eat it.

I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THEY WANT ANY MORE!

Seriously. I don't know what to feed them. Breakfast is the only meal that is even bearable anymore. They'll eat pancakes, waffles, french toast, cereal. OK. Easy.

Lunch, I struggle to think up something that they will eat. Don't tell me to roll up lunch meat in something. THEY DON'T EAT IT! I think and think for the whole morning. I try to vary it up...but THEY DON'T EAT ANYTHING.

Dinner is more of the same. They eat a few bites of this and that. Then start spitting, throwing, Jojo wants to get out of his chair. Juju sees Jojo act up and then he starts acting up.

I totally don't know what to do or make or give them anymore. And so help me God, if one more kid throws something at me, I am moving out.

I am incredibly frustrated with them. I have sort of given up on Lulo, if he doesn't eat what I put in front of him. He doesn't eat. I am not going to make 12 things so that his Highness will have something to eat. With that said, the twins are little. What am I supposed to do? Sort of losing it. They are smiling and cute and hydrated. And their weight is fine. I REFUSE TO BE A SHORT ORDER COOK. I CANNOT MAKE one thing and two backups and something different for Lulo and then Jojo and then Juju. What do I do? Seriously? Am I being shitty? Am I supposed to do that? One meal for each of them, and then backups, and then something for Julio and I. That's like 7 meals. I can barely make 1.

I suck at this. Seriously. Suck. At. This. Losing my mind, not my lap.

Coming a Long Way

2009-11-16T19:34:00.000-08:00

When I got married I didn't know how to cook. My mother is an amazing cook so I never felt the need to actually make anything. I could make a box of Pasta Roni, I could order in, I could whip up a mean batch of cereal...and Pop Tarts. That's it.

J does not eat cereal, or Pop Tarts. He was made fully aware of my inability to cook prior to offering me his hand in marriage. But, alas, love is blind. I think he thought that my genetics would kick in. However, there comes a time when Pasta Roni does not cut it anymore and I had to make real food.

I got back from our honeymoon, in love, and ready for a challenge. After a long day at the office, J was not home yet, I decided to make chicken. I went into the freezer. Called my mother crying because I did not know how to defrost it. She talked me through it and I panicked when it partially cooked in the microwave. Then, I tried to cook it. I honestly don't remember the details but when J got home that night, the entire kitchen was covered in salmonella, paper towels, and my tears. It was a really special scene.

I literally burst into tears when he got home. I then went to my car and cried while he finished making dinner. It was pretty sad. J could totally cook. He "fixed" dinner, no one acquired dysentery, we are still married, and now I can make chicken.

The only reason I am thinking of that debacle is because tonight I wanted to surprise J with some wontons. He loves them, his Mom rocks at making them, I had all the stuff. He has been working harder than he usually works lately...which means 20 hours a day, 7 days a week, at least. I had all the stuff. Well, right now as I write, I just finished cleaning my kitchen that was covered in oil. I have little third degree burns due to splattering oil all over my hands. It took me like 30 minutes to clean the oil from ALL OVER my stove, and tea kettle, and cookbook stand, and floor. I think the floor is still a bit slick. I will have to clean it again before one of the children fall.

Julio ate it though. And he was really happy. His Mom's is WAAAY better. Sigh. I try, I fail. I hope it is the thought that really counts because I did not think they were very good. I didn't cry though, that's good, right? I've come a short way, baby.

A Breeding Ground for Subdural Hematomas

2009-11-10T19:10:00.000-08:00

Meals are a real unique experience these days. The twins are 19 months and are starting to test me. They are also copying each other and think they are extremely clever and cute. Well, the cute is not going to save them from having a mother who wanders around the house mumbling incoherently because she got walloped on the head by a flying sippy cup and does not have the time for a proper CT scan.

It's not just hard plastic objects at the table. It is also food. There was a time when I thought a nugget lost its ability to fly when it was (presumably) scooped out of the grain fed, hormone free organic chicken ;), shaped into a dinosaur, breaded, and baked. But nope, they fly here. They are free here. Naughty chickens reincarnate into nuggets and fly in my house without wings.

That little Jojo, he winds up, he looks you in the eye, he gives you a smile and twinkle, and catapults his object of choice. And then, there is Juju, sweet Juju, innocent mellow happy Juju, who really just wants to eat. He is fat and hungry. But, as he owes his in utero donor twin his life, he decides, "well I will take one for the team", and so he flings his nugget/corn/bean/bread etc. into the void.

Why do they DO this? What goes through their mind? If I react, they think I am hilarious. They think THEY are hilarious. Well, they aren't. This is especially true on the 2 days a month when the maid has come and made my floors gleam for a short lived hour. If I don't react, they don't eat or they do it again and again. Then, I look at the clock, thank the Lord for the schedule that I enforce, and countdown the minutes until I can be on my hands and knees locating unconsumed morsels of food on the floor wondering why I am seeing double and have a headache.

This too shall pass.
This too shall pass.
This too shall pass.
Patience is a virtue.
Patience is a virtue.
Patience is a virtue.
Clean floors are not possible.
Clean floors are not possible.
Clean floors are not possible.

Happy Despite Appearance to the Contrary

2009-11-09T19:00:00.000-08:00

Lulo has taken to asking me 20 times a day (usually at dinner when I am at my most irritable because no one is eating and the twins are throwing things) whether I am happy.

"Are you happy, Mama? Mama, are you happy?"

Is he confirming that I am happy or is he questioning whether I am happy?

If there is a difference between the two, I hope it is the former that he is after.

Let me confirm: I am happy, Lulo.

Ex-Nanny Chronicles Part II: Jaded

2009-11-09T16:52:00.000-08:00

I fired Jade 10 days ago. Best decision I ever made. Her leaving has relieved a great burden upon my heart. She was here for 12 days and I have a complaint about her for every single day she was here. But for now, let me tell you why her specter is still rattling chains in my attic.

On Saturday I went down to the nanny's room and opened the drawers to get some towels. In each and every drawer remained her clothes. Hoochie clothes of every variety. Things she should not have traipsed around in in my house. Things she should not have traipsed around in anywhere but a brothel. No, I am not a Republican. I fully support hoochie clothes because there is a time and a place for everything. But, ass crack and boobage is not usually necessary while caring for toddlers.

Back to my point, I go to the room for the towels and I kid you not every single drawer had some item of Jade's in it. Did she not notice that HALF her wardrobe was not with her anymore? Did she cavort so much that she did not know where she left her clothes? It is not like I fired her with a gun to her head. She had the room to herself for as long as she needed. No one was watching her pack. Who just leaves all their clothes in the drawers?

I, of course, felt like a dillhole of the highest order for not checking the drawers before the new nanny got here. To my credit, the new nanny was here 2 hours after Jade left. I only had time to wash the sheets and vacuum the floor. First time I had seen the floor in 12 days. I leave a hotel room I am in for 1 or 2 days and check every drawer just to make sure...I don't get it.

Anyhow, the trash bag full of her clothes is next to my front door. She was supposed to pick it up 4 hours ago. Am I surprised? No.

Ponona

2009-11-05T12:43:00.000-08:00

Hi Lulo.

Hi.

What's your name?

Lulo.

How old are you?

Free.

Where do you live?

Peru.

No, where do you live Lulo?

Ponona.
***

We honestly might as well live in Peru or any number of third world countries because this place is sort of reminiscent of the mediocre neighborhoods in most third world countries I have visited.

Everyday I sort of wish I could pick up my house by it's base and MOVE IT to another city. I hate this place. J and I had an agreement (not in writing but generally understood) that this move to Ponona was temporary. Maybe 5 years. It has been 3 and there is no end in sight...maybe another 5 years. Maybe until one of us gets shot and it's just too sad to live here because of the memories.

I have gone to our local Smart & Final several times as of late because it's the closest place with food. It is vile. Obesity and bad smells are everywhere. The lines are long. The bums and cholos loitering outside abound. At least they admit it and tell me that Jesus is helping them with their crack addiction if I buy their candy. They also commended my choice of pumpkin as I gripped my minivan key fob alarm button.

Also, this morning I went to the Ponona Courthouse North to deal with my speeding ticket because the City was too lame-o to send me a courtesy notice. There was a guy ahead of me who provided his Costco card as ID. He also argued that it was his constitutional right to get an extension on his driving ticket.

Mind you, at Planned Parenthood down the street in Ponona, a woman cannot walk in without getting mobbed by anti-abortion protesters so she can get an abortion for a fetus in her own body. What you do with your own body is barely a right that can be exercised. But, getting an extension on a traffic ticket in Ponona is apparently constitutional...that and bearing arms.

I hate this place. How can I move a house?

The Ex-Nanny Chronicles Part I: Is that clear? Crystal.

2009-11-04T17:19:00.000-08:00

Crystal started as the night nanny for the twins shortly after they got home from the hospital. Not having a night nanny for twins and working full time is pretty damn hard. I did it for 8 weeks while recovering from a c-section and gimping on my plantar fasciitis feet and then realized that I either needed to be committed to an institution or get a night nanny...I splurged for the night nanny. Enter Crystal.

I did not have to be friends with Crystal. She was supposed to be here while I slept and so I did not care if we were not going to be best friends or whether she would set a good example for the kids. Her term was going to be extremely temporary. She was doing fine at night and my daytime nanny was taking a vacation (terrible damn timing) so I asked Crystal if she stop working nights and could help out during the day in the interim. (The babies were sleeping a good block at this point.)

Aside from the drama of actually getting here when she was supposed to on a consistent basis, one of my favorite incidents is from the day I fired her. She had been with us about 6-8 weeks (not every day due to the aforementioned "inability to show up/show up on time" drama) and I found her crying. Sympathy is not one of the qualities I am known for. She was crying because her boyfriend told her that he had herpes and so she should get tested. Good times.

I did not fire her because she had herpes, that would be cruel. A sore here and there would not affect her ability to put a bottle in my newborn's mouth every 3-4 hours. This is especially true because I would not actually be witness to these sores. She would not be seeping on anything that I own or love. Anyhow, moving on.

The reason I fired her is because she was so distressed about her potential herpes diagnosis that she could not work the rest of her shift and she did not want to wait until she got an appointment to take off. She wanted to leave immediately and come back at some undisclosed time after she had a doctor's appointment that she had not yet made but planned on making the next day.

Honestly, at this point, I just needed HELP. H.E.L.P. But, this was the only time EVER that I literally fired someone without having a backup of ANY KIND. I told her to get her stuff and get out of my house.

Cruel to fire someone who just found out she might have herpes. Yes.

But it felt so damn good after all her nonsense.

Get out of my house, Crystal. Is that clear?

A Time to Read, A Time for Every Purpose

2009-11-02T19:49:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite things in the world is to read. I love it. Give me time and leisure and I read. J and I went on vacation to the Domincan Republic in August. We were gone for 9 days and I read five or six books (between naps and meals) and lots of magazines...anything I could get my hands on including the SkyBuy magazine where I could buy anytihng for anything and would seroiusly never buy nothing. Decadence. Seriously.

You know what is weird is that I was in the hospital for 3 months gestating the twins and hooked up to monitors and required to remain on my back 24 hours a day and I never read. Nothing. I maybe read an article here or there in a random magazine. But, I could not focus. Could not read for pleasure. I worked. I read work stuff. But, not one page of one novel. I could have read like 80 books in 80 days. I read none. Weird.

I guess I am thinking about this right now because I have not read since I got back from the DR. I thought at first it was because I read so much that my little brain needed a break. But, really, I think when things are not in some order, when there is no peace, my mind cannot enjoy reading and so why bother. I typically read to escape and go to another place for a little while. But, how can I escape when my attention is required here. So weird.

Tonight, I feel like picking up a book again. Are things falling into place again? I hope so. I have a stack here calling to me. It's a time to read.

Boys to Men

2009-07-01T19:37:00.000-07:00

What a difference a haircut makes - They aged before my eyes.

Stay babies.

You Won't.

You are little boys now.

Sniffle.

Blessed

2009-07-01T19:18:00.000-07:00

A Facebook friend of mine who I recently became acquainted with wrote one of those Notes on her page. I know she is an avid reader. And from some of her Notes and other things, I know that she recently lost her Mom and she has a disabled son. She is a lovely lady and I pretty much liked her instantly. I think you can see genuine in people. Anyhow, I was reading these Notes - all of which touched me - and she was doing one of these "completing the sentence" exercises and she wrote:

I have a low tolerance ... for people that have been blessed, and are unaware of it.

She is so right it hurt me to my core today. I don't know why this got to me today. I used to keep a journal of things I was thankful for. Why did I stop that? Why do I complain about the sniffles, and the helmet, and the stupid pediatrician, those last 15 lbs, living in Pomona (bleck ;)) and so many other lame things...

I am blessed: J, Lulo, Juju, Jojo, My Parents (alive and well). What else do I need?

I am often aware of how blessed I am but it seems to be overshadowed by all the "stuff" that needs doing. Today, I was really aware...there were signs everywhere to stop and breathe the blessings.

Seeking a Promoter

2009-06-29T19:03:00.000-07:00

Lulo has been hitting (pushing, kicking, swatting) his brothers. They are moving now. Getting in his space. Drawing attention towards themselves and he don't like it. Not. One. Little Bit. J says that "boys will be boys" and that is fine and good. But the little ones are little and frankly, I am SO not interested in meeting my insurance deductible this year because of Lulo's temper.

If one approaches him, he says he is scared. This is a crock. This is straight from Damn Diego and all the animals he rescues. The twins are half his size and won't do anything to him. I am trying not to freak out and yell. Though, when he nails his brothers or I am trying to get him to stop what his little, mean brain is thinking about doing, I raise my voice. I am trying to let him be and see what happens without getting involved. I've tried time outs and rewards.

Anyhow, because it is easier and more fun and I like seeing them all calato (naked) in the bathtub together - we give them baths together at the same time. I took a break for a couple weeks because Lulo was not having it. He did not want either of the boys even near him. Basically, one day, Lulo hit Jojo in the face, Jojo fell back and hit his head, Jojo shrieking. Juju crying out of sympathy. I yelled at Lulo for hitting his brother. He started crying. I took Lulo out of the bath and removed him from the bathroom. Big mess.

This weekend, everything went OK with bathtime with all three at the same time again so I thought, OK, MAYBE WE CAN DO THIS AGAIN. Routine starts again.

Then, today, I introduced a new toy. Four stupid plastic turtles from Target. Lulo wants all four. Jojo wants one. I tell Lulo to share. He plays with one and puts the other three on the ledge where Jojo can't reach it. Spitefully. {Me, seething.} Jojo tries to get one. Lulo nails him in the face. Jojo falls back and hits his head. Jojo starts crying. I sit Jojo back up and rub his head and he calms down. Jojo waits for Lulo to get close enough and Jujo jabs Lulo in the face. No hesitation. Pure art. Just smacked him one good.

I sort of did a silent cheer for Jojo. That kid is small but mighty. Lulo deserved it.

Is that mean that I sort of cheered for Jojo? J came in the bathroom with calato Juju and asked what happened because I seriously couldn't contain the laughter and I told him.

He said, "boys will be boys." Whatever you want to call it is fine with me. Jojo did some fine work today and we are seeking representation.

Summer PJs

2009-06-29T18:49:00.000-07:00

I just started putting summer pajamas on the boys. Until a few days ago, it was still getting cold at night. So, they were all in long sleeves and long pants. The nightly ritual of stuffing the twins' really fat legs and chubby arms into these "fire retardant" extra safe pajamas was getting really old. I don't really get the whole safe pajama thing. I put the twins in 18-24 month pajamas and it's like stuffing a sausage into its casing. I sweat trying to get their fat legs into these pajamas. And you may think, "lady, get larger pajamas."

But, alas, it does not matter.

All manufacturers make pajamas tight in all sizes because I think they are trying to prevent some loose pajama-ed child from lighting on fire. I know that this is a serious topic and third degree burns are no laughing matter. But, you know, I wonder if there could be a proper balance between the likelihood of catching on fire and the likelihood of a mother losing her mind and/or the likelihood of accidentally breaking a bone or bruising a kid while trying to shove chubby, clean, rolly polly legs into pajamas. Tell me if I am wrong and I will advocate for the tight pajama.

Anyhow, tonight the tight pant pajamas were replaced by little shorts. The rolls and creases were loose and on display for adoration and kisses. Their legs, except for the creases, are tanned from their afternoon walks.

Lulo is lanky now. He had rolls last year but this year, his legs are long, skinny, and he asks me to put socks on. The passing of seasons dawned on me tonight and I had to breathe it in and be amazed by how the time is flying. It doesn't feel like it from day to day but the tight pajamas were just here. And now, they are in shorts, summer is upon us.

Huh? What?

2009-06-16T19:42:00.000-07:00

Who is Speidi? What did they do?

I need to eat mass amounts of chocolate.

Megan Fox bugs me. What did she do? Why do I keep seeing her in dresses?

I need to eat an entire pizza.

The reason I watched Jon & Kate was to see parents ungracefully cope with six children who were the same age. It made me feel better. I could give a rat's heiny about Kate's scooter. I also don't care that they are in a brawl. Just show me the kids. Show me your day to day, that's why we watched your family. Get on it. It's made us feel better about our own chaos. Damn.

I need to eat a french dip sandwich.

I really like Boot Camp. I am going to keep doing that. Go away rolls.

So, I need to eat nothing.

I bet Megan Fox eats nothing.

No, seriously, who is Speidi and why is Al Roker interviewing them? Why does Al Roker interview anyone? He needs to just keep telling me about my neck of the woods.

$20 in Your Pocket

2009-06-09T11:08:00.000-07:00

I am a big fan of rewarding myself before I have accomplished anything. I like to indulge my inner OC. You can take the girl out of OC but you can't take OC out of the girl. So, on that note, before my very first EB, I went to Target and saw some work out stuff. Bought work out sweats in XL. Put them on (at home). I looked like a heiff. Panty lines, cellulite, muffin tops, bulge, needin' a nip/tuck tightness everywhere. This might work for some people but I don't believe in exposing the world to my rolls more than need be. Tight pants and Jog Bras sans Top are not my MO.

I was sort of mad at the world and exclaimed "HOW IS IT POSSIBLE THAT THESE XLS DONT FIT ME." XL was pretty much the only size that still had some room for me. THESE SWEATS were BAD - no room. Just bulges and yuckiness a la Kirstie Alley post Jenny Craig.

So, I tucked them in the drawer. Sadly. No new pants to celebrate my heifferness. I started Boot Camp with my old loose pants. Finished my first session, finished my second session. Started my third session.

Then, this weekend I was talking to my cousin, A, who shared with me her love of Target work out clothes. I told her my sad story about the XLs that weren't and she sheepishly said, "Well, you kind of have to stretch them out." Uh huh, sure. I knew she was thinking..."Tina, I think you were very close to needing 2 plane seats."

Well today, I got out of the shower and I thought. OH I BET THOSE PANTS FIT ME NOW. I bet A is right and they'll fit with a little stretching. I should give them a try.

No dice.

You know WHY? Because, the damn things are Size Medium!

Terms of Endearment

2009-06-08T18:54:00.000-07:00

For the most part, my husband and I called each other by our last names. He uses my maiden name - GXXXXXX. I use his surname (LXXXXXX) - which is also my surname now that I committed to this marriage and to standing in line at the Social Security office, DMV, and Post Office (for the passport). Anyhow, most people use, "sweetie" or "babe". We use our surnames.

Example:

J: "Hey GXXXXXX, can you pass the ketchup?"

Me: "Sure, here LXXXXXX. Can you pass the Dulce de Leche Cheesecake? Thank you, You are the Best LXXXXXXX."

Anywho, Lulo has been running a fever since last night. Last night it was low grade and he was eating like a champ and in a great mood so...I blew it off. Today, it was in that 101 range all day. It started to freak me out when the fever only went up after I gave him Tylenol. Anyhow, I called my Dad 72 times today and each time he said - if he is in a good mood and you gave him Tylenol just wait it out.

Well, I called my Dad again at 4ish and told him that Luk's temp was 101.7 (under his arm) and my Dad said that it sounded like an ear infection since it kept hanging on. And, then, he told me to look in his throat...like this is an easy task. Weirdly, I asked Lulo to say AHHHHHH while I look in his mouth and he fully cooperated. I damn near passed out that he cooperated. And then, I damn near passed out when I saw little pockets of PUSS all over his tonsils. NIIIIIIICE.

So, Dad calls in a prescription and I was standing in line waiting for my friendly pharmacist technician (David) to find Lulo's bag o' magic. And then, the actual Pharmacist (real name: My Luc - as in "just my luck") looks up from busily measuring out the Prozac and says, from across the pharmacy:

My Luc: "Hey LXXXXXX, it is a good thing your Dad is a doctor because you would have to wait months for a regular doctor for all the medicine your family needs."

Yep, this is how well I know our neighborhood CVS pharmacist.

Wonder if she has any cheesecake?

Boobie Pantalones.

2009-06-03T15:12:00.001-07:00

In law school, I was in a study group with all guys. We got to choose our study groups and I am glad that I landed with these guys because the stress level was low (or as low as it can be for law school) and they were all smarter than me so I was positively influenced and their knowledge often seeped down to me. Anyhow, we had many, many nicknames for several of the people in our class. Many.

"Friendly Neighborhood" was the name we had for a particularly aloof fellow and I think we called him that because of a specific incident when he was particularly not friendly. "Quilty" was this woman who repeatedly (approximately once a week) wore this awful outfit that basically looked like a purple quilt - large purple buttons, tapered pants. Head shaking as I think about it. "Hatch" a/k/a "Cone Head" had a horrible, horrible haircut reminiscent of Kate Gosling's (of Jon & Kate + Eight) but worse, and higher, and more horrible. "Toadie" was the girl who followed Hatch around.

Get the idea? OOOOK - there is a point here. I obviously became a lawyer - we didn't JUST make fun of people in law school. But if you aren't a lawyer, I just want to say that law school is a breeding ground for people that must be ridiculed while you are sitting around in your study group for 7 hours straight.

So, on that note, I need to speak about Boobie Pantalones. Unfortunately, in the case of Boobie Pantalones, she was a really, really nice (and from what people said) and good professor. She got this name because my friend B and I are horrible people. Also, she wore her pants ("pantalones" en Spanish for the gringos) RIGHT UNDERNEATH her Boobies. In other words, she would wear a top and her pants would be maybe 1 inch below her boobs and her shirt would usually be tucked in and she would have a belt one. Oh, the fashion crisis. As such, she was bestowed the name "Boobie Pantalones".

Anyhow, once again, I have a point.

I totally thought of Boobie Pantalones as of late because for the last 3 years I thought my tops have been shrinking but they are not. I am not getting taller. My torso appears to have remained the same. I don't really get WHY the length of my shirts seems shorter. I THINK the reason is because I am fatter and there was SOME stretching that occurred when I carried my litter last year. I pretty much ALWAYS layer a tank or something underneath shirts to give the illusion of length. I am very much against the "bare midriff". My midriff is gag worthy. So, I don't want anything hanging out. Ew. I respect the eyes of others.

However, today, I was like WHY IS THIS SHIRT SOOO SHORT. And for a brief moment, I pulled up my pants, and the shirt was the PERFECT LENGTH!

Boobie Pantalones, I get it now. I salute you.

Take one Down, Pass it Around

2009-05-31T19:59:00.000-07:00

The house is quiet. I just washed two bottles and placed them on the bottle rack to dry. No sterilizer anymore.

And for some reason, I thought back to last year.

16 bottles a day. 8 bottles/day per baby. That's a lot of bottles to wash.

Right now, I would have been mixing the next day's pitcher of formula. I would make 64 ounces of formula at a time because there was no time. I would get the first few sets of bottles poured so I wouldn't have to at the last minute.

You know...

I love washing only two bottles. I love reaching for the whole milk. I love that the sterilizer is not cluttering the counter anymore. I love that the checkout lady at Costco doesn't look at me weird because I am buying four large cans of formula and she knows that she just saw me buy four cans two weeks before.

***

I love that they still smell like babies without being baby babies.
I love that they smile because they are laughing or happy and not because they have gas.
I love that they are more mobile, more interactive, more interesting.

Nothing to Get Hung About?

2009-05-30T19:12:00.001-07:00

This is the second Saturday in a month where I have attempted to do something fun with my kids and had it not go great. You know, I am feeling totally inadequate. I seriously get nervous as I put them all the minivan. In fact, today, I prayed. I said, "Please God. Don't let anyone get sick on the way there or throw up or scream or die or generally embarrass me. Please let us get through this unscathed."

I am scathed.

Can I never leave without some incident? Without regretting that I didn't just put on Wonder Pets and play with the twins?

Two Saturdays ago. We went to a park that was on a trail in Claremont. Cutest park EVER. I see it on runs for EB and I always think "GEE WIZ, that park would rock Lulo's world."
Yeah, RIGHT. We got there and all he said was "I want to go home, I want to go home." He chanted it. Jojo's nose began running like a faucet. Juju ate dirt when I was distracted cleaning Jojo's nose and telling Lulo to knock the WHINING OFF. We went home.

Today, I took them all to a strawberry field so we could get out, get some fresh air, pick strawberries. Go home, eat strawberries. Woohoo. Sounds harmless. Right? OK. It was going SOOOO WELL!! Lulo participated. Not a PEEP from the twins. They were mesmerized. Lulo picked a ton of strawberries. Spotted them. Pulled on them. Smooshed a few. But mostly fun times!!

Yeah, two BOXES of strawberries picked. Happy, dirty Lulo with a box of strawberries on his lap clutching each side of the box with his pink tinted hands from the strawberries that didn't make the cut (literally). Happy twins. Nanny and I give each other a look and a sigh...thinking...ok, that went good.

"Living is easy with eyes closed..."

So, I go to pay. We need to weigh the strawberries because just because you pick them yourself doesn't mean they are free. It is $2.99/lb. I take the box from Lulo.

ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE.

He chants (at HIGH VOLUME):
"I want the strawberries.
Give me the strawberries."

Shrieking, whining, screaming in the middle of the Farm Store.

I give them back to him and the nice lady gives us a bag to put the box in so we don't have strawberries everywhere. Makes sense. OH NO. God FORBID we put the box in a bag. Strawberries fly everywhere. He screams and cries - his face turns pink with strawberry juice and tears. Nanny picks up strawberries, I quickly pay, we scurry them out. Get them all in car seats. Clean hands. Confiscate strawberries (again) because all we need is strawberry juice staining the inside of our leased minivan. Lulo cries the entire drive home. Throws a FIT when we get home. J give him strawberries. I try to get him to the table for dinner luring him with clean and CUT strawberries. COMPLETE AND TOTAL MELTDOWN. He wanted me to FIX the strawberries. Really? I have to fix them. Why didn't your father have to fix the ones HE cut for you?

Why?
WHY?
Why can't this be easier?

I can't just stay indoors at all times just to avoid these situations. But, the only reward I get from going outside is screaming, tears...fighting with J, frustration with Lulo, frustration with myself. Guilt about losing my temper with Lulo after his FIT. After all - he is JUST a kid. He is just having difficult EXPRESSING HIMSELF. How will I do this again? and again? Times 3. Two at the same time. Oh my God. There isn't enough wine to get me through it.

Oh, and meanwhile, I read this post the other day by this Mom who has triplets. It is written by a blogger that I don't know at all but I always like reading her blog. I like her writing style and the way she weaves her Faith in God with the raising of her children. Anyhow, she talks about how when her triplets were born she was certain she wouldn't go anywhere alone with them but by four months she was taking them on walks alone. She also says the following as she ponders the advice she'd give to a soon-to-be Mom of triplets:

"I wish she understood how confidence building it would be for her as a mother to realize that she could care for them alone. I am sure it would shock her to know how quickly she would learn to do things like manage the grocery store with three infants or take them all for vaccinations...."
Um, I can't do that. I won't EVER do that. The thought of taking all three of my kids to the grocery store makes me anxious. I BARELY manage vaccinations with my MIL or nanny with me. What is WRONG with me?

There I was, driving home, nanny, twins, Lulo en tow. Aforementioned post repeating itself in my head. And, I was thinking I have ZERO confidence as a mother. I cannot care for them alone. I cannot even care for them WITH HELP! Lulo confuses me, pushes my buttons, frustrates me. I love him so much and yet I almost don't want to do anything with him for the fear of complete MELTDOWN over strawberries not being on his lap! I mean, how do you predict that?

Saturdays suck. They just make me feel like Monday can't come fast enough. Because on Monday, I have more control. I am confident. I can manage that kind of chaos. I can manage opposing counsel. I can manage clients. I can return e-mails. I can make rain. I can do that all.

But, I can't take my kids to the damn park. I can't fix strawberries.

The only good part of today was seeing his smile, on the strawberry field, his big brown eyes looking at me, proud of his accomplishment - "Another one Mama," while enthusiastically putting the large red strawberry he just picked in our box. Eagerly moving forward looking for his next prize.

Strawberry Fields Forever.

Why the Giraffe Can't Dance

2009-05-26T21:23:00.000-07:00

I read this book to Lulo sometimes called "Giraffes Can't Dance" by Giles Andreae and Guy Parker-Rees. It is a great little book about this giraffe who...um....what was it....oh yeah, the giraffe CAN'T dance.

Giraffes are actually my favorite animal in the whole world. I can say this with confidence because when I went to Africa on safari I fell in love with them. They are graceful and beautiful and they spoke to me. I don't know why, I just love giraffes.

Anyhow, the giraffe, Gerald, goes to this jungle dance which they hold every year in Africa and he was sort of bummed when he took his turn to dance because he was, well, a spaz. And then this cricket tells him to basically close his eyes and listen to his heart and then he dances so beautifully and gracefully that all the other animals stood and watched him "quite entranced."

I really like this book. I sort of look forward to reading this one with Lulo. It touches my heart and makes my inner giraffe happy.

So, the other day, we are reading this book and he is identifying the various animals as he often does. There is this one picture showing the animals laughing at poor Gerald (see above).

Now, see the circled animal. Yep. That little animal, I think, is a meerkat. (Tell me if it is something else, I am ok with criticism in that regard.)

Then, Lulo CRACKS UP. Hysterical, loud laughter.

Pointing at the circled animal, he screams, "It's a pee pee. It's a pee pee."

More Hysterical Laughter.

Furrowed eyebrows. I am confused. "What Lulo? What is that?" You know, thinking it is some animal I don't know because last week I met my very first tapir...

"IT'S A PEE PEE, MAMA," while pointing to his penis (or rather the penis vicinity of his diaper) and then the circled animal. "It's a pee pee." More Hysterical Laughter.

Seriously, does that look like a penis to ANYONE reading this? Today he did the same thing so I KNOW it wasn't a fluke.

Oh, boys. They start early, don't they?

Pain in the Neck.

2009-05-26T19:36:00.000-07:00

My neck hurts REAL bad. It has been hurting on and off for weeks, maybe months. But it gets better and then it gets worse. I have noticed that even when it feels better (more or less), I do not have the full range of motion in my neck. There is always a position in my neck that hurts. But when it HURTS, it is excruciating. I could cry if I had the time to think about the pain. If you touch my neck - it feels like a rock.

This long weekend I went to my parents' house with the kids and my Dad informed me that I had a muscle spasm and gave me some sttttttttrrrrrong meds - one for pain, one muscle relaxant. Last night, as I tossed and turned, I felt waaay less pain. I woke up today groggy, sleepy, and my neck still hurt. So, to rectify that, I am going take more meds. "Hi There Darvocet. Come to Mama." Fun, fun, fun.

Speaking of neck pain, Lulo is in RARE form. Today started with him kicking the crap out of me because he didn't want to put his shoes on to go to school. So, after WRESTLING with my two year old, I put him in the car sans shoes and figured he would be easier to handle when restrained by his five point harness. Anyone got a 12 point harness? Anyone? Is this thing on?

Yeah, so I wrestled again with him RESTRAINED in a 5 point harness. Won this time. Go me. I can only imagine the other parents in the parking lot. Me, restraining my kid, saying "Stop It" "Chill Out Lulo". You would think that we were both two years old. But, DUDE, he needed to have shoes on. He wailed when we got there, wailed while I was signing him in. Ms. K gave him a hug and he wailed. And then I "left" and watched him through the window. He stopped crying faster than Diego beckons Click the Camera a la Rosie Perez. Is he SERIOUS?

I called after 45 minutes to see if he was ok. "Oh, yeah. He is fine. He is dancing and can't wait to go outside." OK.

I am not understanding Lulo lately. We get home. He naps. He wakes up after 2+ hours. He goes to the park. We eat dinner. He gets angry about the appropriate usage of his fork and flings it at Nanny Extraordinaire. Nice. Puncture wound with your fish?

Then, he WAILS when we are gonna go upstairs so his Dad takes him outside to play. Then, he wails coming up the stairs. Wails in the bath. "I don't wanna take a bath. I don't wanna." Wails getting OUT of the 12 second "bath" I managed to get in. Wails getting dressed. So much so that I just held him while he sobbed. Do they have Midol for 2 year olds? Seriously. I read him something like 300 books in my most calmest and soothing voice. We talked at length about animal noises. I transitioned right before book 299 to let him know we were on the last one. HE WAILS at the end of that. I put him in bed. Leave the room. His crying ceased the MOMENT I left the room. Is he crying because he WANTS me to leave? Is that the pattern we are seeing? Or what? I would honestly rather deal with hungry, pregnant women, in the summer, in Arizona, who are forced to wear wool sweaters. It would be easier.

But...when he is calm and cute - you would NEVER see the wails coming. He describes the things happening in his books. He smells like Johnson's No Tear Shampoo. He has clean little toes. He tells me long stories about the animals on his pajamas. He waddles around like a penguin. He says stuff like, "I love you Mama". And then, BAM...SHRIEK. WAIL. Wha happened to my Lulo?

Hmmm...where is that Darvocet for the pain in my neck?

She Likes to Move It, Move It

2009-05-22T09:11:00.001-07:00

This morning I have listened to the song "Move it" from Madagascar 912 times. The video of the song is on the Special Features option of the Madagascar DVD that Lulo watches while eating his meals. (Don't judge me people, you get him to eat another way if you want to judge.) Typically, I would be very close to calling my Dad for a prescription of some sort of anti-anxiety drug. But, today...

I AM MOVING IT. I have been boogying all morning to this song. Boogying to get Luk his muffins (blueberry, freshly baked, by yours truly, Luk did some vate vate). Shimmying to get his apple. Then mambo-ing to CUT his apple. "Cut the apple, mama, cut the apple." Then, skipping back. Today rocks.

I tested out of boot camp today and the results were pretty good (for me). I am pleased. I feel more cheerful this boot camp than I did last time. I really liked the class more this session. There were more people. It was light out about 10 minutes into class and waaaaaaaaaaay warmer. It is kind of nice not having to run with a sweatshirt and still be cold. The light out really makes it feel so much nicer. And for me, the sun makes me think of summer, then bathing suits, then fat, then I run faster.

I am bursting with appreciation for my instructors. They pretty much rock with their ability to encourage and see when you are improving and pushing you to what they think you can do. Typically, I would think that the attention they are able to pay to each one of us would only be possible with a personal trainer. I had a trainer once. I thought he rocked at the time but seriously; DI-Size0 and DI-MC are better and they have you know 10-15 people every class.

So, the results show. In six weeks, the following changed:

**Push-ups: Still can't do them. Monkey arms + Fat = No Push Ups!

**Sit-ups: I did 35, last time I did 37. This saddened me at first but I am ok; I wanted to do 40. Maybe next time.

**Timed Mile: First session, started at 13M:40S. End of session, 11:09.
Second session, started at 10:39, End of session (TODAY!), 9 MINUTES and 28 SECONDS!
Um, yeah. Seriously. My goal my WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE has been to do a 10 minute mile. What in God's name were my HIGH SCHOOL basketball coaches doing that they couldn't get me to run a 10 minute mile. I am like fatter, older, with 3 kids and I CAME IN BELOW 10 MINUTES. HOLY CANNOLI!!! I know people run like 3 minute miles and woohoo for them. But, this is really good for me. I am SO STOKED.

DI-MC was standing at the end with his timer and he was counting - 10, 11, 12...26, 27, 28. And I thought he was in the 10 minute range. And I was like I JUST WANT TO BE FASTER THAN 10:39 so I was busting my butt to get to him. HE WAS COUNTING IN THE NINE MINUTE RANGE. I COULD NOT believe it. Seriously. I damn near hugged DI-MC (but was happy with his enthusiastic HIGH-5 because all I need is DI-Size0 to kick my ass because I am all hugging her boyfriend all over the place.)

**Weight: I lost 12 pounds this session - 15 since last session. That was my goal because that is "safe" weight loss. One that will probably last. I just want to say though that I don't get how I stay within my WW points and work out every day and I am not losing more than 2 pounds a week??? Crinkled Eyebrows. I am happy with my weight loss. I am happy with my weight loss. I am happy with my weight loss. I am happy with my weight loss.

**Inches:
-I lost an inch in my waist.
-I lost an inch in my hips.
-I lost an inch and a 1/4, that is 1.25 inches, in my "buttocks". I object to the word "buttocks" and only think of Forrest Gump when I say it BUT that is the word in my mess log. I am just copying here.
-My right thigh remained exactly the same.
-My right calf lost a 1/4 inch.
-My bicep lost a 1/4 inch.

Honestly, I am always impressed with people who lose like 40 inches off of stuff. But, I am ok with the inches. Especially in my waist and buttocks. I thought my underwear was baggier and it is indeed. TMI, but I just want to be honest. Totally sexy.

Anyhow, that about wraps that up other than the fact that Moto Moto's song is also stuck in my head and it doesn't quite work for me anymore ;) You know the song...

I like ‘em big I like ‘em chunky I like ‘em big I like ‘em plumpy I like ‘em round

I love that song. It makes me laugh. I also love Moto Moto :)

But, really all I want to do is Move It Move It because I like to Move It Move It. Thank you, Extreme Boot Camp. Another session starts in a week. One week off. I'll be there.

Goals for Session 3:
Another 12 pounds.
Baggier underwear.
Mile: 9 minutes, 20 seconds.
45 sit-ups.
1 push up.

MOVE IT!

Respect your Feet, Respect my Eyes

2009-05-20T16:31:00.001-07:00

There are so many things to be upset about in the world: the California Budget Crisis, Missile Testing in Iran, the Mexican Drug Cartel, Kate and Jon, and of course, swine flu. But, let's get serious here, what's with people wearing ugly shoes? I don't get it.

The reason I am here writing about this right now (other than it is very important to me to examine this issue) is because I was just procrastinating by creating a "How well do you know me?" quiz on Facebook and one of my questions is: What shoes do I hate the most? I almost couldn't choose between 4 of them. I had to put an easy one on there that my friends could immediately cross off because I love Rainbows. I own like 4. The other four choices I provided were: TEVAS, CROCS, BIRKS, and Greek-Inspired Sandals.

I would like to comment on all these choices before I tell you what I hate the most.

As to Tevas, Crocs, and Birks, I am sorry but the argument that comfort is necessary and bla bla just DOES NOT WORK here. I wear "comfortable shoes" about 98% of the time and they don't make me look like a dillhole. There are perfectly acceptable cute tennis shoes that are very comfortable. Oh, your foot is HOT, you don't want to wear tennis shoes. OK. Buy flip flops...Rainbows, Havainas or buy something like this. Awesome. Why Tevas and Birks? Don't you see how unflattering they are to your feet? Don't you see that they take a potentially cute outfit and make it UGLY. Don't you see the horrible things that it does to the length of your leg? There is just nothing good about them. Stop it. I cringe. CRINGE. JUST. THINKING. ABOUT. TEVAS! BLECK.

There are a small population of people who will say that Tevas are the only acceptable option when doing things like tidepooling or hiking. I say NO! They aren't. There are other cuter options for waterproof footwear (including your bare feet! - embrace your inner Blue Lagoon) and hiking footwear.

Now, my friends in high school will comment that I wore Birkenstocks. What an ill decision I made? My father told me 100 times how ugly they were. He'd tell me that they made "my foot" ugly. Singular, not plural, even though I have two feet. He is Arab. Cut him a break. Anyhow, they do, indeed make your foot ugly and your feet ugly. I have to blame Birks on peer pressure. Everyone at my high school had them. They were so cool. Even at the $80 price tag, I managed to convince my mother to buy me black ones and then tan ones. Bleck. I curse the day. What's worse...I was sooo jealous of Missy (who wouldn't even acknowledge my existence) because she had several colors in her possession - purple, blue, etc. The one time I wore Birks to school - I got detention. Even the Catholic High School I went to wanted to stop the spread of this fashion nightmare. Just stick that in your pipe and smoke it.

Crocs are a recent ugly shoe in the ugly shoe phenomenon. I won't buy them. Sorry. I won't try them on. The funny thing about Crocs is I think they are trying to make "cuter" Crocs but they aren't cute...they are still ugly. Like this, and this, and God forbid these. Yep, all ugly. All not flattering. Buy Havainas or something else like the very classic Rainbow ! Please, for the love of all that is good and Holy - DON'T WEAR CROCS. If you do, don't wear them when I see you. It hurts my heart.

In terms of this Greek/Gladiator thing, I just don't like it but of all the listed options - Tevas, Crocs, Birks - I would wear these gladiator type shoes next (if forced by hot Greek men). I am Greek and I have to pay my respects to my forefathers. But in all honesty, them shoes are ugly. Only, maybe, Angelina Jolie, could pull them off and even then Brad would be like, "sweetie, you are hot and you've born 3 of my kids and made me adopt many others but those shoes are not cute on your lovely feet." Got it?

So...in the multiple choice...what do I hate most.

Tevas. Don't make me see them on your foot. I won't hide my disgust just to be "polite". There is no "polite" when Tevas are involved. Respect your feet. Respect my eyes.

Hyper. Woohoo!

2009-05-19T15:51:00.000-07:00

Today my energy is OFF THE CHART - I pretty much want to run around the house in CIRCLES but in Pomona this would be a bad idea for a few reasons: 1. It is hotter than residing on the sun. 2. I may get shot. 3. I may get questioned by the kind officers that often patrol our streets about why I am running around like I am on something. Can you imagine my answer? "I am on happy thoughts and caffeine and woohoo Boot Camp Baby BRING IT!" No seriously. I am odd right now. I keep making happy, excited remarks to J and I think he is confused.

It is the 6th week of my second session of EB. Tomorrow, I think we are running our 3 miles. I am sort of excited to see how I feel at the end of it because I am contemplating running a 5k in July. I remember last session I sort of was amazed I did it, but tired. This session I feel like I sort of got a little bit better at everything, even jump roping. I am no veteran but I definitely can do more and feel better.

I am also nervous about our weigh-in, measuring, and test out on Friday. I have been really strict with Weight Watchers. I have been going to boot camp. Because I made up 2 of the classes I missed, I technically did not miss a class. And last night, sit down folks, I asked J if he felt like going for a jog with me. Yeah, I know, weird. Not like I get extra credit but...I WANTED TO jog. We jogged 1.9 miles. J, of course, kicked my ass and ran circles around me even though he is stationary 98% of the time. But, he was kind enough to stay within spitting distance from me because, you know, we live in Pomona.

Alas, all is good. Not really sure why I am nervous considering the only one I have to prove anything to is ME. But, I don't know...just a milestone I guess. I always like when I see changes instead of "WOOHOO, you lost three pounds, you are still obese, have a nice day." I would much prefer "WOOHOO, you lost 12 pounds, 900 inches, and you are less obese now, have a nice day." I think I can get into that! Woo.Hoo.

With that said, I am also looking for a new car. Last week or was that two weeks ago, hmmmph, the lease on my Lexus SUV was up. I took it to the dealer. Experienced nostalgia. After all, this was the car in which I brought home all three of my babies. This was the car in which J drove me to the hospital while I was in labor. (Yes, he did take a client call while we were driving.) Good memories. Good car.

So, now I am e-mailing every dealer within a 50 mile radius selling the cars we are interested in and asking them to make me a quote. I heart Internet sales. SOOO much easier once you know the car you want. No nonsense. And any nonsense is in writing and all I have to do is click DELETE BABY. DELETE YOUR HARD SALE. DELETE YOUR ATTITUDE. I don't have to buy from you! Wow, that feels good. WOW. WOOHOO.

Even though Internet sales are less annoying, they are still a little annoying. I honestly don't GET why they insist on getting your phone number to call you! I DIDN'T GIVE IT TO YOU BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO TALK. I DON'T WANT TO BE HASSLED. I DON'T WANT WOOD TRIM. Just tell me what I want. Make me want to buy your car. Don't bug me. Do these people know that they are two shakes from being BANKRUPT? {Just as an aside, Honda was really good at this "no hassle Internet sales" when I got my sexy minivan. So far in my car search, Acura is kicking the ass of all other car dealers. So, the Honda family has apparently figured things OUT!}

I think it is a bad idea to run to a car dealer tonight before I run 3 miles tomorrow. What am I going to do with all this ENERGY! My goodness gracious. Hmmm...maybe I can clean the garage so that the new car that I get will have space in the garage. Drumming fingers.

Woo.Hoo. I may just do that.

The Problem with Gravity

2009-05-14T16:12:00.000-07:00

Just wondering, is it possible for fat to hurt? Because I was running today (a lot) and my jiggles hurt and I am thinking that maybe that is my fat loosening up and redistributing. Unfortunately, because of gravity, I don't think it is redistributing where I would like it to go.

I am feeling special today because I managed to do one of the hardest boot camp classes I have ever done - twice. In fact, I think Tuesday and today were the two hardest classes I have ever attended (with the exception of one other one) and I did them twice.

Anyhow, tomorrow Week 5 ends. This week was really challenging. I am wiped out. But, I sort of loved today with all it's high inclines, jiggling, running, etc. I hope that next session I can manage that incline a little better. Wouldn't that be nice? Am I becoming a runner after all? I may even be enjoying running some more. What is that about? Boot Camp, what are you doing to me?

Happy Dance for the Muffin Top

2009-05-13T19:02:00.000-07:00

Today I was wearing a summer dress. I felt like mixing it up and all my sweats were dirty so WHY NOT? J and I are going car shopping this evening and so after the kids' baths I went into my closet to change so I wouldn't get cold.

Well, because I have a morbid sense of curiosity I grabbed some jeans that I haven't worn in a LOOONG time. They are pre-pregnancy, pre-marriage jeans. In fact, I was wearing these jeans when J proposed to me at the Dana Point jetty. They are not (by any means) my skinny jeans. But, I haven't fit into them for a while. So, I chanted "if these don't fit, no big deal."

They fit. They closed and I didn't have to suck in or anything. THEY CLOSED. Woohoo. They comfortably closed. Now, as I sit here, I feel a bit of a muffin top happening and that is to be expected. I am wearing a loose top because I am not into being all "look at my rolls people, I heart my fat." But, I am wearing the jeans and I don't feel embarrassed wearing them in public.

OK. The mornings are paying off. The watching J eat pizza while I eat Smart Ones is paying off. I am sort of happy now as I sit here feeling my muffin top.

Have a nice evening. I'm gonna go find me a car to love in my old jeans.

Can you tell I am doing the happy dance?

You mean, Flip Flops?

2009-05-12T15:28:00.001-07:00

I picked Lulo up at school today and I watched him bus his own dishes after lunch. He carried his dish from the table to the trash, he used his spoon to put the food he did not eat in the trash, and put his dirty plate in the bin. He also spilled his leftover milk in the sink and did the same thing with his glass.

Who is this little boy?

My personal favorite part was HOW he put the dirty plate in the bin. Rather than place it gently, he THREW it in there. SLAM. LOL. My little delicate darling boy. He goes through all the trouble of nicely carrying and cleaning his dish and then he SLAMS it in there. Apparently, this is the fashion. The teacher looked at me and said, "they are all doing that." I wondered for a moment, did Lulo teach them to do that? Probably. Sigh.

***

Lulo is just leaving for the park and he said he wanted to wear his FAT FLOPS. You mean your "flip flops". Yes, my "fat flops." OK. I kissed him and said "bye, have fun." Then he said, "in a while crocodile".

***

Speaking of fat flopping, I am on my fifth week of my second session of EB.

The fat is flopping less; but it flops nonetheless.

I sort of did something today that I never imagined I'd do in my wildest dreams. I did TWO boot camp classes today. Because I have missed two classes this session, I have two to make up and I only have two weeks to do it. You may be wondering how I am feeling. My ass is kicked. Seriously. That was a hard class, too. Not that any class is la di da but...

We had partners and while one partner sprinted a lap around the parking lot we were at; the other partner had to engage in some assigned torture (jump roping, crunches, hovering, bicycle crunches, push jacks with five pound weight in each hand, etc. etc.) until their partner returned. Um, my poor partner was probably like, "dude if she makes me do one more crunch I am going to kick her ass." Sigh. Poor girl. She was nice though. Probably is thinking "DON'T MATCH ME UP WITH MOLASSES AGAIN."

Of course, at the second class, I was matched up with someone a bit slower than me (if that is possible). That kicked my bootie. Seriously.

The good news of course is that I am losing weight. Pants are fitting better. I am really enjoying myself. I am well on my way to being ready for a good plastic surgeon to have a go at me.

***

And now, I work. The fat flops. I return triumphantly to blogging. The world is at peace. So long.

How to Be a Successful Blogger

2009-04-28T20:23:00.000-07:00

I was saving this ad from Nutri-System that I got in a Valu-Pak coupon mailer I received. I wanted to scan in the ad and then talk about it here because the picture on it was so funny. The brunette chick was in a green bikini (clearly trying to cause confusion with the Jenny Craig/Valerie aqua bikini) and she was sort of laying down almost, propped on her elbows. They, of course, show this "unflattering" BEFORE picture of her basically PUSHING OUT her stomach and she is wearing a tank top that is a tad small. Frankly, she wasn't to heiffery to begin with. Moving along...

I noticed that anyone in that position looks pretty good. Gravity is pulling all that yummy flabby stuff elsewhere and the boobs still have cleavage. I need to incorporate this no gravity position into my life some more. I don't think I'd look all Gabrielle Reece in that position but it certainly would be more flattering than some other negative gravity situations (standing up, sitting down, breathing, etc.) On the other hand, how could I incorporate that position into a networking event? Ah, that is neither here nor there.

Having said that, the chick looked uncomfortable and honestly, I think she looked the same as her BEFORE picture because who looks good with their stomach all bulged out and wearing a tank that is 12 sizes too small. Before and After shots should be in the same position with the same clothes.

Anyway, all this blabbing brings me to this. I was saving the damn ad to share here on my great blog and tonight I was shoving a Skinny Cow Mint Ice Cream Sandwich in my fat face (because I had WW points to spare) and absent-mindedly put it down on anti-gravity, Nutri-System model so I could try Julio's yummy (low cal) mango sorbet. Now Pseudo-Valerie has Skinny Cow Chocolate Sandwich all over her and can't be scanned.

This is why I won't be a successful blogger, or a successful dieter for that matter.

I Can Work

2009-04-28T17:22:00.000-07:00

Yes, the plague has made another appearance. Yesterday, I was sick. I worked as much as I could handle but I am totally sick again. My life in a petri dish continues. Yesterday, I actually drove all the way to my Daddy's office and asked him to cure me. He drew blood, made me pee in a cup (MUCH easier when you aren't pregnant! WOW! Who knew?), and gave me Zithromax. Oh, Zmax. You and me, we've become such good friends. Zmax, the wonderful folks at the local CVS, and me - Peas in a Pod.

Like an IDIOT, I went to EB yesterday trying to pretend I wasn't sick. Trying to pretend that EB would make me stronger. I would sweat that virus/bacteria right out. I even (while driving) told myself that meningitis-like headache was only because I was sleepy. I convinced myself that the body aches were from doing various animal crawls on Friday. All crap - the things that fat will motivate me to do. I came home and felt like dying...again. WHEN WILL THIS STOP? I am fanatical with my Purell and my hand washing. I hold my breath for unusual lengths of time to get around a fresh cough from a sickie kid who hasn't yet learned to cover his/her mouth. WHY O WHY THE PLAGUE? And I didn't even get to puke this time, so no significant weight loss is in store for me. Sigh.

Today, I am working. The body aches are less achy. The headache has toned down to be less awful. I am so behind in work it's not even funny. J is giving me the "why aren't you billing" look? I am giving him the "why don't you drive back and forth to the pharmacy, the pediatrician, mail, bank, networking, dealing with nonsense" look. It has been special here. Fun times. April has passed in a POOF. POOF gone. April. Bu bye. I have to send out my sad bills in a few days and I will have to come to grips with my shitty billable hours.

Meanwhile, at least I have the freedom to have shitty billable hours and not get laid off. I have the ability to put my family first for a month while the shit hits the fan. That is sort of nice. Most of my friends at big firms got pay cuts this month. Yes, to some seething folks out there, it is not really sad when someone makes 225k instead of 250k a year. And yes, it's not horrible. But, it still sucks. Lawyers have loans too, lawyers have mortgages too, lawyers have kids and commitments. They make commitments thinking they have X salary and then when they have X-10% it may suck. Also, one of my friends got laid off - top 5% of our class, top guy, top firm. Laid off.

Oh, I am so glad that I got laid off years ago and I made this decision to start this practice. It put me here now. I can be the master of my own paycheck. The only person I disappoint is my husband, J, but technically I am his boss ;) I am managing partner, I am hiring partner. So if he doesn't like it he can complain to his boss, ME, and I can tell him where to shove it. Yeah, right? No, but seriously, it is good to be here now. Sick for most of the month with shitty billables and not biting my nails because I could be laid off.

Instead, I can bite my nails about being sick and pediatricians and my Mom and my Aunt and EB and other things but NOT being laid off. I can work. Lucky me. Seriously.

Thank you, God.

2009-04-24T20:35:00.000-07:00

On Thanksgiving Day 2006, a little less than 2 months after my son Lulo was born, we were driving home from my parents' house to our house around 8 p.m. I had Lulo in one car, he was sleeping. J was driving a few cars ahead of me. I could no longer really spot his car but I knew he was ahead of me.

As is common in California, the traffic slowed and there were sudden red break lights. Immediately, I said to myself. "Oh, please God don't let that be Julio in an accident."

Five seconds later, I saw his car smashed against the center divider of the freeway. Cars avoiding his. Cars crashed around him.

I started to pull over to the right shoulder. Gasping for air. Grabbing my phone, I called him. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Voice mail. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. J says, "Hello? I can't find my glasses." He was fine.

Those 60 seconds were the worse, slowest most horrible in my whole life. Until, this Monday.

On Monday, I was working. It was 2:45 and my phone rang. It was my Dad. He sounded not good. His words were catching on his heart. I knew immediately something was terribly wrong. My thoughts shot to my aunt in the hospital.

I said, "what's wrong?"

He said, "They just called me from an ambulance. Your Mom has been in accident. I don't know anything. I am leaving the hospital now and going to the hospital they are taking her to."

I sat. Frozen. Do I go? Do I stay? What is happening? I sobbed.

What was I staying for? I would need to be there no matter what. Even if she was fine. Even if it was a fender bender. IT COULDN'T HAVE BEEN A FENDER BENDER. SHE IS IN AN AMBULANCE. SHE ISN'T TALKING TO MY DAD. THE PARAMEDICS ARE TALKING TO MY DAD.

Oh, I still have chills. My hair is still up.

I called my brother. Sobbing. We get off the phone. I call him back and tell him I am heading down. Neither of us can even think. We are irrational. We both leave work. We both go straight there.

The fear. That drive. Waiting for my Dad to call me and tell me everything was fine. NOTHING. NOTHING. The phone wouldn't ring. My brother and I talked the whole way. We are in shock. Horrified. So scared. I cry on and off. Wanting to speed but trying not to. I am sick still with that feeling of "if anything happened to her, I will die." He got there first. I made him promise to call me in 10 minutes. But 11 minutes pass. 12 minutes pass.

He calls to tell me that he has seen her. She looks terrible. Disoriented. Nothing broken. They are taking her in for a CAT Scan. He hasn't seen my Dad yet.

I get there and see my Dad first. He looks awful. But he tells me she is fine. He is in shock. So scared. Never seen him so scared. Vitals are good. Xrays show no broken bones. She is just scared and banged up, really banged up. Waiting for CAT Scan. Nothing there. Thank God.

Car is dead. She isn't. I love my Mom. I am so glad she is just bruised and hurting everywhere. There are still tears. So many. When I even think for one moment that she maybe wouldn't be here right now. That she maybe was not going to be able to kiss Lulo who adores her and asks about her every day...I cry all over again.

Thank you God for my Mama. My awesome mother, a special grandmother. That hour was the most excruciating wait I have ever had. It was worth every damn second for my beautiful mother still here, in one piece, ok. Thank you, God.

You can take that Vaporizer and Stick it in Your...

2009-04-24T19:25:00.000-07:00

My Jojo had been progressively getting sicker and sicker since last Thursday. He had this watery eye thing happening that I dismissed as allergies or maybe he was catching Lulo's special pinkeye from last week. He had a runny nose, that I dismissed as allergies. The sniffles in this house are NO BIG DEAL. It's like a poopy diaper. It happens. He has had the sniffles on and off for a month. Dr. Sears says that means the kid probably has allergies. OK.

Anyhow, no fever, no panic here.

I'd like to say this kind of attitude comes from having three kids and being a well worn Mom. That is a crock. I totally worry the whole time. The reason I have this attitude is because I would rather get dental work done than go to the damn pediatrician's office. It is not because I do not like the kids' pediatricians. In fact, I REALLY like them. But they are in a practice so on a sick visit you typically end up seeing one of the other winners at the practice. OK, that is fine. They can likely quickly diagnose a runny nose. However, all I have heard now for the better part of 3 years is something along the lines of:

"Oh, if they don't have a fever it is not recommended to give them any kind of antihistamine. You should use a vaporizer and come back in a week to ten days if you don't see improvement."

So, I pay a co-pay and wait in their petri dish of a waiting room for upwards of an hour to get a prescription of a VAPORIZER.

And this is what I have to say about that: FUCK THAT! So effing tired of the VAPORIZER I want to effing scream. I want to pummel. I want to rant and rave. I HAVE USED THE VAPORIZER EVERY SINGLE TIME ONE OF MY KIDS WAS SICK. And you know what? It doesn't do shit or shinola. It makes my walls wet. Yep. That's it. And the only reason I use it is so I can tell the damn docs (with a straight face) that I tried that already.

I have a big problem with doctors and how little they do for sick kids. They don't recommend anything anymore. Saline spray doesn't make my kid feel better. I squirt, I suck, they cry. Nothing.

You know what makes kids feel better: MEDICINE. I am all for the old school docs like my Dad who prescribe some heavy stuff to kids so that they'll feel better. I am all for the days of prescribing antibiotics a bit more freely so that if IT IS INDEED BACTERIAL the kid will get better. Let's not let the kids be really sick for 2 weeks thinking it MIGHT BE VIRAL. My Dad would give us antibiotics like it was water. I am fine. I can take TONS OF THEM and still feel better. I haven't built up any kind of resistance to them. And you know what, I know about the super powers of these mutant bacteria. I am not saying drug the kids up every five minutes...BUT I WANT SOLUTIONS fast. If I have one sick kid, I usually have 3. Fix it. Make it normal again.

Don't make me go on the internet and find the proper dosage of Benadryl. Just tell me DOCTORS. I won't sue you if my kid felt better. Damn. I know they won't get better any faster BUT THEY FEEL BETTER. LESS AWFUL. Don't adults take something when they feel poopy even though they don't get better any faster? Yes, I get that there are some special people in the world who say things like "if one teaspoon works, then 3 will work better" or "maybe a little bit of this will knock you out for a few hours so I can go clubbing". Yeah, that's not ME!

And this brings me to my next point, I love my Daddy. For some stupid reason, I resist asking my Daddy for medical stuff for my kids because he is so old school, but any time he has advised me, he has been right, my kids haven't died, and they have felt better within 24 hours. The last time Lulo was sick, I skipped going to the Vaporizer Stockholders Committee and asked my Dad what he should take. My Dad had seen Lulo the day before. Lulo was better in 24 hours.

When I went to the substitute pediatrician yesterday, I was giving her the history of Jujo's ailment and she interrupted to go do something else AFTER HAVING ALREADY WAITED ONE HOUR IN THE WAITING ROOM with my kid who had a 101.9 temp. Then, she ignored what I said.

Then, she didn't have her ear wax scraper which she looked for for FIVE MINUTES while I am sitting and calming a WAILING Jojo because she had peered in his ear already and determined she didn't have her ear wax scraper thingie handy.

So, as she walks in the room with a scraper I overhear her telling the nurse:

"I don't like this kind. I am not comfortable using it." She approaches my kid.

I say: "If you aren't comfortable using that, then don't stick in my kid's ear."

She says: "You seem perturbed."

Yes, I am perturbed. CAN WE MOVE ON HERE?

Anyhow, his throat is totally infected. But she prescribes him antibiotics NOT FOR THE THROAT but the potential sinus infection. The throat, she believes, is viral. She says it may linger a few days and to use a VAPORIZER and make an appointment if his fever is not down by Saturday.

Jojo felt better 3 hours after he took the antibiotic. Today, he was his old self. God bless old school antibiotics.

Pants You Don't Care About

2009-04-24T19:15:00.000-07:00

Yesterday at EB, DI-Size0 told us to wear pants we didn't spend a lot of money on to class on Friday. OK. That sounds good because I typically wear my satin Donna Karan's. Anyhow, I showed up today in the sweats that I wore when we painted our last townhouse. I wear them usually when I am sick or have no intention of leaving the house. Frankly, I was intrigued. What could they possibly do that required pants we didn't care about?

So, after the intro of calisthenics and some stretching, DI-Size0 and her bf, DI-MC, jogged us out to a soccer field (or was it a football field?) and told us to get on the floor. The grass was ALL damp. They made us do so many things on the wet grass and touching the wet grass. I distinctly remember the smell of dog pee. I had many pieces of grass and dirt and mud on me. It was ewey.

Bleck.

I just don't like being dirty. Every day after a NORMAL class I pull out a container of baby wipes and wipe my dirty hands. It would have taken a truck full of wipes to assist me today. I was dirty dirty. My clothes were all wet (and not because of the sweet sweat that typically happens).

We did many horrible things today on the wet wet grass. Inchworms. Alligator crawls. Bear crawls. Crab crawls. Push ups, crunches. Ew. I still feel itchy thinking about it.

Ew.

This EB was not for the faint of heart. It was not for the ones with an inner Howard Hughes.

I assure you, the next time DI-Size0 tells us to wear our shitty pants. I will wear them and sleep until 6:30 in my dry, comfy, warm bed.

That's just a wrong kind of dirty.

Today's Sacrifices

2009-04-17T19:36:00.000-07:00

My dear Aunt had her kidney removed yesterday. She's been in and out of the hospital for a couple months now and they've been trying to figure out what's up. She has lupus and has been dealing with that for years. But yesterday, after a week or so of them putzing around and trying to figure out whether they needed to take out the kidney, they took it out.

Today she is fine, or I guess as fine as you can be after your kidney is removed. My Mom says she has her color back and she's feeling a lot better. She actually just wants to eat something or have a sip of water but they aren't letting her. I guess this just hit home for me today because today, our Good Friday, I wasn't eating or drinking anything as a sacrifice symbolically mirroring Christ's sacrifice for us many years ago on the cross. Of course, I knew I was going to pig out at the end of the day but today was a long day. And, honestly for me not eating or drinking after EB was a pretty big strenuous. But, it's no cross. So, it was a small sacrifice in the grand scheme. It's also no big deal compared to what my Aunt is going through right now.

But, as I was eating, the typical "YUM this is so good" ravenous binge seemed to be overshadowed by - here I am pigging out and my aunt is in the hospital and they aren't letting her eat or have a sip of water. She lost her kidney. She's in a bed hooked up to IVs and dealing with hospital nonsense. It just sort of makes me sad, breaks my heart.

My family has a picnic every year (more or less) for Easter. These picnics are some of my fondest childhood memories. We had the best time. We always had been fasting and then on Easter we could eat eggs again (usually resulting in a very unfortunate experience with the runs). I learned after spending too many Easters on a beachside restroom's dirty toilet that consuming more than 1 egg was NOT a good idea. My Mom always goes nuts on Easter. So much delicious, traditional Greek food. The Easter picnic was always a special day - everyone would be there. Family and friends celebrating together. In college, my friends came and would witness the big Greek/Egyptian family first hand. The Easter traditions never have changed or wavered - fasting for 40 days (or hmmm...2 weeks), church the night before at 10 pm, Christos Anesti, keeping the candle lit on the car ride home, getting home, having a light dinner (mayeiritsa, cheese, bread, tsourekia) as a family (1/2 asleep), a breaking eggs contest. I love Easter.

My Aunt always comes. Her daughter would come. Then when her daughter had a baby and got married, her family would be there. My Aunt always makes this amazing chocolate cake with powdered sugar on top. I love me some of that cake. This year that cake won't be there and neither will she. It won't be the same. I think we'll all be thinking of her.

I think that this year won't be the bash it always is because my Aunt is a special lady who brings a lot without being obnoxious or overbearing. I have always loved and respected her because she worked so hard despite her illness. She is a class act that overcame a divorce from someone I consider to be an a-hole (shortly after being diagnosed). She really doesn't whine or moan. She is sweet and loving. I can tell she worries about her work, her daughter and grandson, her lupus, her life. But she gives so much. So, today, I prayed for her and her quick recovery. I ate with guilt instead of the usual gusto I put into the breaking the fast meal. I just hope she's ok and comes out of this with her light personality and wonderful laugh intact.

Hospitals can be lonely and I bet she is thinking a lot about how she wishes she wasn't there. I guess as much as I am praying for her quick recovery I am also praying that she is distracted by family, friends, the TV, good memories...anything. I want her spirits to be high so she can swiftly be back with us - bringing chocolate cake, laughing heartily, sharing stories, chatting with my Mom in the kitchen, holding one of my boys, getting teased by my Dad, eating her favorite dish that my Mom makes.

I know we all have prayers and we all have people in our lives we pray for. Some of us may even pray for silly things like, oh, that all the food they ate and extra WW points they consumed wouldn't actually "count" and result in a wide ass. I wouldn't do that, never. But, a little prayer for my Aunt today would mean a lot to me.

And though many of you celebrated Easter last weekend, Happy Easter. May you find reasons to celebrate this weekend because we are here and able to celebrate because of Someone's sacrifices.

An Alien.

2009-04-16T15:52:00.001-07:00

Before I started my own practice a few years ago, I used to work for a law firm that was located on Sunset Boulevard. I will always think fondly of the partner I worked for. He taught me so much. He took me under his wing. He had a personality larger than life. If I could network like he did, I'd be rad. He could work a room. He could order food. He could seriously order wine and port. I had fun working with him. And even though we had rough times and things could have ended rosier, I will always think back on that time at that firm as a good one. I always wish him well even though I sort of hated when my checks bounced.

It is so funny. I was so crazy to leave that big downtown law firm to follow him to this random office on Sunset in West Hollywood. It was a good crazy, but still, I am sure that some questioned my judgment. Seriously. The office was bad. The light bulb in the bathroom, never worked. I often peed in the dark hoping the seedier element of town wouldn't walk in on me and ask to use the toilet as well. The chairs were old and orange and may have been picked out by Ralph Furley himself. It was a mess. Paper everywhere. I crave cleanliness and organization and I was surrounded by the pit of despair on steroids. The office below us was a gun shop - perfect for our clients to go pick up something special for us after getting our bills.

I did some demeaning tasks that someone who went to law school should have never done (even though I got paid handsomely for it). And no, going through boxes of discovery (a normal associate task) was not one of them. I remember once, sitting in his car, so his phone could charge. I had to SIT in the car, alone, not working, and getting paid, to phone sit? I also did more things that made by blood boil than I could list here. But I had to do stuff like wait until the last minute to do anything because I was at the mercy of someone who was a procrastinator with ADHD. I am NOT a procrastinator. I do things so that I have time to spare and have time to have the shit hit the fan and time to correct it and laugh about it. So, I would sit and wait, drumming my fingers, for his blessing until the very last moment or be working until the very last second- making my blood pressure actually go up incrementally until I turned colors like red and purple. Oh the inefficiency, oh the mess.

I also swore off the Blackberry after my stint there. The blinking red light telling me about emails was maddening and addictive. I'd get up in the middle of the night to read crazy emails about what I needed to do. Though it was great training for having a brood of babies, sleep would have been better. Wow, it seems like a lifetime ago.

On the other hand, the cool thing about working on Sunset was all the amazing restaurants just 5 minutes away (or 15 minutes I guess if you are driving on Sunset). We ate soooo much good food that year. We would go for these crazy long lunches at places like The Standard. We would eat many courses and a drink with each course. We'd go for Indian food or Korean BBQ. Oh, the yumminess.

Today, I met up with a client I had never met before at a restaurant we (a former co-worker and I) used to go to often. It was so strange being there again. West Hollywood is now a weird foreign place to me. I am getting very used to Pomona and it is a sickening, sad thing. In Pomona, no one looks like the people do there. It's pretty simple, pretty mellow. The really crazy stuff is usually on a tattoo. The holes in clothes are not put there by a designer but by wear. On Sunset, people are all accessorized with extra large furry purses, skinny jeans (men and women), hats not caps. So strange. I felt like an alien there. I was so very two years ago's Banana Republic in a sea of yesterday's Next Top Model. I don't remember feeling like an alien before but I don't think I have changed much so I must have been an alien then. But, people were so stylish and fa-la-la. Men with their cool shades. Men not in suits, not working, on a Thursday? Women lunching. People eating outside in the sun on patios. It was odd. Sunset is now an alternate universe. When did Sunset become an alternate universe? Sigh.

I am glad to be home somehow today, even though my home is in Pomona. After sitting in traffic up there, inching up and down Sunset. How did I used to do that commute? How did I sit on Sunset? How did I work for someone else? Bleck. I'll never go back. Being the one in charge of my own destiny, albeit with my husband and partner, is much more liberating than it is constrictive. I love this life. That life, although it was wonderful and so full of learning life's hard lessons, was nothing I'd ever go back to. No regrets, just no wish to return. I like here and now.

In Response to Dr. Laura

2009-04-15T13:48:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I blogged about Dr. Laura's new book. She may have left an anonymous comment but I think it is worth exploring even if it isn't her. I left the following comment in my comments but am posting here as well.

***

To Anonymous/Dr. Schlessinger:

If you are Dr. Laura, which I doubt a little, I appreciate that you took the time to comment. However, I respectfully disagree with you. If you are not Dr. Laura, then well, I disagree with you too and the comment below will still be relevant.

In your comment you indicate that you are sad that "some women" are willing to believe that hired help can replace motherly love. Frankly, I do not believe that nor is that expressed in my post. Motherly love is not replaceable. With that said, that does not mean a mother loves her children less or is less loving if she has other commitments.

I also never diminish SAHMs in any way in my post, in fact, I do the opposite. I do not think my decision to work or have “hired help” diminishes the role of other mothers and I have a tough time making that leap in your reasoning. I do, however, wholeheartedly believe that women make choices that are best for themselves and their families and that those choices each have value and can result in happy children, happy families, and happy homes.

I understand that your popularity is based on having somewhat controversial and conservative opinions. And so, of course, people will disagree with you and you are “paid” for having opinions that rub people the wrong way. After having listened to you and knowing your opinion on various issues, I know that I generally disagree with you.

But, I do think it is not necessary or appropriate to insult or put down working women because you do not think Moms should work. You can have an opinion, a strong one even, without berating those who you feel are a scourge on society.

I will tell you that I have read your book, “The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands”, given to me by my mother (a fabulous SAHM) shortly after I was married. I am capable of reading any books, including yours, with an open mind and heart. I cannot say I agreed with your entire book. I also cannot say I disagreed with all of it. But, I read it and absorbed it.

Some people are able to read analytically and make relevant comments that actually respond to what they have read without being completely wedded to their own belief system and ideology. If you like, send me your book and I will read it, open mind, open heart, and in the spirit of reading the work of another working woman with whom I disagree, and I will comment. My e-mail address is losingmylap at gmail dot com. I will send you my mailing address when I get an e-mail from you.

Warmly,

Tina L.
A Mother and Working

In Praise of SAHMs

2009-04-14T12:41:00.000-07:00

Dr. Laura just came out with a new book entitled "In Praise of Stay-At-Home Moms".

I won't read this book unless I am in a torture chamber with only this book to keep me amused as I wait for my torturers. However, I would like to comment on a few quotes, even if it may be out of context.

Just to start, I want to say that stay at home Moms (SAHMs) are amazing. I have all the respect in the world for SAHMs. My mom stayed at home. My two sisters in law stay at home. I have witnessed the magic of being a stay at home mom. Seriously, I know that I could not do it. I can BARELY survive the weekend with my children. Poor Dr. Laura would probably shake her head at the selfishness of me. But honestly, it's not that I can't stay home with my kids. I don't want to. I truly don't believe that I would offer my kids the best version of me if I was at home all the time. Don't get me wrong. I love them. I am crazy about them. But, I couldn't stay home with them 24-7. I would do myself and as a result, them, a huge disservice.

Dr. L says:

"My heart hurts for what these women miss and what their children miss from them,” Dr. Laura tells the Wall Street Journal. “No argument, no criticism. My heart just hurts — because when you get those pudgy arms around your neck, and being told you’re someone’s lullaby — the fact that a woman would miss that is so, so sad."

Tina says:

I think that it is not really a fair comment to say that a woman who works doesn't get pudgy arms wrapped around her and sweet comments. I think it is fairly ridiculous to say that working women miss that. I don't miss that. I get it all the time. Our children love and give us affection too, even though we work. Amazing. We still deserve love even though we have abandoned our children with someone else. Sigh.

Dr. L says:

"One thing I’ve been happy as peach pie about — because I’m all about the children and the happiness of a woman because that makes the happiness of the home — is that nannies, day cares and babysitters are all collapsing, which is forcing moms and dads to raise their children at home…. A home should be more than just a place to park yourself after a frenzied day of too much work. So even though there’s less cash, people seem to be happier."

Tina says:

Where to begin, where to begin? If she is ALL ABOUT the happiness of a woman and that making the happiness of the home, then what if WORK makes a woman happy too? What if staying at home with 3 kids is actually completely frenzied and a day at work is actually calm, peaceful, and regenerative? What if a day at home is completely exhausting sucking every last bit of happiness from a Mom? How about if a day at work brings a Mom home who is ready to spend really great quality time with her kids?

Honestly, I know a SAHM who seriously barely smiles. She never has ANYTHING good to say about being at home. I never knew her to be a working woman necessarily but she pretty much seems miserable. She complains about all the things that are supposedly so fulfilling about being a SAHM. Is she so happy because she is a SAHM? Are her kids happier for it? Will her kids look at her one day and say, "boy I am glad my mom stayed home because she never seemed happy to be there?" She seems tired. She seems more tired than I ever have after a day at work.

Maybe people aren't happier because there is less cash? Maybe people are happier because they are realizing that cash isn't everything? If you look around and you see healthy kids, a home, a job, then you are happy.

And finally, Dear Dr. Laura says:

"I tell these women to look in their children’s eyes. When your husband comes home, wrap your body around him at the door and look at his eyes. What people need to learn is that it’s not about the drudgery of housework — it’s about being at home for all of those incredible moments that make your life more valuable than the person who replaced you at work. No one can replace mom. Kids who don’t have moms suffer a lifetime."

Tina says:

Yes, kids who don't have moms probably do suffer a life time. But lady, I ain't DEAD. I am here. Right here. Hello. Is she CRAZY? I am home for incredible moments. I am sure I miss stuff but I also see a lot. My life is valuable even though I do work. I am sure I have value to my clients. I am sure that I could be replaced easily but that doesn't mean that my work has no value. I am valuable because I am a Mom and an attorney. I think giving up being an attorney so that I could be a mom could actually make me less valuable.

***

With that said, I obviously don't agree with Dr. Laura. I think that each mother makes a choice and that most mothers (except for the certifiable) honestly do what is best for their families, whatever that may be. There is incredible value offered to children who have Moms who stay at home to be their Moms full time. However, there is incredible value for these kids whose Moms choose to work. To make blanket statements and accuse women of choosing money over their children (no matter the sacrifice) is shallow.

It sort of angers me to think of some SAHM reading Laura's book in a red state somewhere nodding her head in approval of each sentence and mocking my existence. Bleck. But, the 1st amendment being what it is, I will live with this book existing because the quid pro quo for that is I can say that I hate its premise here on this blog.

OK, now I am going to go bury my head in the fat rolls of my kids, smell their rosy cheeks, listen to the hearty laughs and gurgles, and wrap my body around my husband. I do that too.

God help us, every one.

Breastfeeding is Nonsense

2009-04-13T15:55:00.000-07:00

I am so tired of women thinking they "should" or "have to" breastfeed. You don't. Your boobies are yours. Your husband doesn't get to decide. They really aren't his boobies (even if he likes to think so). The doctors and nurses don't live with you. They don't get to decide whether this is good for you and your family.

OK. Yes, yes, it is "better" for your child. Better how? Immunity bla bla bla. OK. Great. Now, what is really better for the child? A more patient, slightly better rested mother. A full stomach. A father who can also bond with the child during feedings. I think those sound like good things too.

There is this huge movement in hospitals and by nurses that breastfeeding is soooo great, Rah! Rah! But, seriously, they need to LAY OFF. For example, when I had Lulo, they used to give formula samples at the hospital AND teach about breastfeeding. When I had the twins, they stopped giving out formula because it "encouraged formula feeding" which is not appropriate. What? You'd think that formula is code for poison. Oh, nice point. Thank you for lobbying the hospitals. Damn La Leche.

I personally take an affront to La Leche and all women who crazily support breastfeeding. Seriously, get over yourselves ladies. You aren't a better Mom because you breastfed and mothers who don't breastfeed aren't worse mothers. Breastfeeding and all the hype is a hoax. Keep your sanity, love your child AND yourself, don't breastfeed. Leave tired Moms alone. Not breastfeeding is a valid choice.

Foreigners.

2009-04-13T14:42:00.000-07:00

I am a first-generation American. This means that both my parents were not born here.
J is a 1.5 generation American. In his case, it means that he was not born here but he came in his childhood or early teens. J was 10.

There are many funny effects of being born to parents whose first language isn't English but I will always have problems with cliches and idioms and stuff like that. My parents speak great English. No problems there. But, English grammar wasn't my strength and still isn't.

The only reason I am writing about this is because I have been loving some of J's English moments lately and I wanted to share.

When he sings Old MacDonald to the kids he sings:
Old MacDonald Had a Farm
He-Hi-He-Hi-Hoooo.

I don't know why but that makes me laugh EVERY SINGLE TIME. HE HI HO!? HA HA HA. And I tell him, J, "it is E I E I O". And he goes, "well not when I sing it, these are the new words." But the good news is that Lulo is teaching J the alphabet. Oh, my poor kids and how they will be teased.

And J says foil paper (instead of foil), towel papers instead of paper towels, ufolstery instead of upholstery. Anyway, I know this is not that interesting but I think his little word things are funny and I wonder what our kids will say to their teachers which will cause eyebrow furrowing.

I guess all of this is coming to my head because this time of the year I always sort of chuckle at some little cultural things that I remember from being a kid. I am Greek Orthodox (or at least I was before I was excommunicated for marrying outside of my church). Anywho, I am Greek Orthodox and our Easter is usually not on the same day as Easter in most other Christian churches. Our Easter is NEXT Sunday. And when we "fast" for Lent, we don't just give up jelly beans or booze or chocolate, we give up anything that originates from an animal - so eggs, milk, cheese, milk, fish, chicken, beef, and the things that those things make up. We also don't eat or drink on Good Friday (from sun up to sun down). But when I was growing up, we usually broke the fast at 6:00. So, yum. Seriously. I will do the Good Friday starvation this year (which should be interesting after EB) but unfortunately I won't get the yummy goodness that was my mother's breaking the fast on Good Friday dinner. I can smell it now in my memory and it is Monday and I live 45 minutes away.

I didn't fast this year and I usually fast for only 1-2 weeks of the 40 days. My parents do all 40 days. I couldn't do it this year because I couldn't wrap my head around doing Weight Watchers and fasting. Too much. Plus, it just felt too crazy this year. Duh, it will every year. But, I just couldn't.

But I remember the fasting weeks in grammar school. I would take crazy sandwiches to school - like fava beans in pita bread or halvah in pita bread or falafel in pita bread. Bread, bread, bread. Always had to have pita bread. Deep freezer full of pita bread. Oh yum. I want me some of that now. Because my Mom is Greek, it was sort of similar to the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding when the kids mocked poor Voula for eating "moose caca" or Mousaka (yummy eggplant joy!). I don't remember being mocked for the food - probably because they were too busy mocking my nose or my hairy legs (because my Mom didn't let me shave until I was starting to look like an ape). But, whatever.

I started my second session of EB this morning. It was nice not having it be my first session. It was fun seeing all the newbies getting there. Honestly, I didn't have a chance to see if they were ALREADY kicking my ass on their first day because I was too focused on keeping up. But, I did fine. It was a fairly large group for 5:30 a.m. I hope it sticks and some people stick around. It can only be more fun with more people, right? More personalities? Hmmm.

I did great on my run. I was terrified that my timed mile would somehow be slower than the last one I did before our week off. But, it wasn't. I came in at 10 minutes, 39 seconds. Not bad. My goal is to come down to a 10 minute mile, consistently. When I told my over-achiever husband that he said, "you know you really should be doing like a 7 minute mile." What? In what universe? I couldn't do that when I was 16. Anyhow, he is special. He is going to be polishing his Husband of the Year trophy the next couple days so hopefully I won't be getting any more of those kinds of comments.

WW is going fine. I am a little hungry but I'll live. Right now, I sort of want some pita bread with fasting stuff inside. I love fasting food. I wish I was at home with my Mama and we were eating some yummy fasting food.

I also could use a good laugh. But, I know how I can have a good laugh - he, hi, he, hi, hoooooooooo. ho. ho. ho. Yep that did it.

Woohoo

2009-04-10T19:55:00.000-07:00

Woohoo.

This week, sadly, I was sick. This is why there was an utter lack of blog posts. My body patiently waited. It eeked out little glimpses of sore throats and the like so that that MOMENT that EB was over I would be attacked by the viral plague. I lost all the weight I wanted to lose during EB this week. Ha ha. Oh, EB, you should incorporate a little viral love into your classes - it does the body good.

No seriously though, I love that line in that movie The Devil Wears Prada when Emily Blunt says "I am just one stomach flu away from my goal weight." That's me. Except, I think I am 4 stomach flus away. Anywho.

I survived. Woohoo. Rocky Theme Song please.

Tuesday night it fell over me and it has pretty much had me out for the count all week. I didn't work on Wednesday. Fever, Chills, Sweating, Barfing. On, Thursday I checked e-mails and returned a few calls. Lulo decided that on Thursday he really needed to be close to me. Spend more time with me. I thought that was great. I have so much love to give when I want to die. On Thursday night, I massaged my swollen glands and kept taking my Tylenol every four hours. Today, Friday, I am functioning. I worked, put on makeup, did stuff, but I am probably only at 60%. I think that most Moms function well at 60% so I am doing GREAT!

Woohoo.

Really, I am sure my Mom got sick when we were growing up but honestly, I never remember her taking a time out. I had some serious nanny adoration this week because I couldn't move. And I SOOOO didn't want to infect my kids. So I kept as much distance as I could, washed my hands until they started peeling (literally), and used Purell like it was going out of style.

As I am thinking about mi amor, Purell, let me digress into a topic that makes me seethe. Just for a moment. Humor me. PEOPLE PEOPLE PEOPLE. DO NOT TAKE YOUR SICK SICK KIDS OUT IN PUBLIC TO TOUCH STUFF? Seriously, what is your problem? Don't bring sick kids to parties. Don't bring them to play dates. Don't take them places where there are other kids. Skip Gymboree. If they have a temperature, they are contagious. Eat the cost of daycare that day. DON'T DO IT, don't even think it. It is disrespectful and rude. Believe it or not, I learned a couple of things when I was a Microbiology TA at LMU (Woot Woot Go Lions), let me dumb it down, when your kid (or anyone) is sick and snotting and tearing ALL OVER THE PLACE and HACKING all over the place, there are little morsels of snot and fluids and tears that get everywhere.

Everywhere. The kids' hands, clothes, shoes, hair. EVERYWHERE. Then it gets on STUFF. Then it gets on other peoples kids. Honestly, just because you can't see snot or smell snot IT IS THERE. Would you, for example, take your kid's diarrhea put it on their HANDS and let them run around the mall/a party/Gymboree etc.? No. So, why? Why snot? STOP. It is rude. STOP. It's not just about you. It's not about getting some time outside and letting the kids burn off energy. If you MUST get outside, like IT IS NECESSARY, like the PHARMACY and you are all alone with no nanny/babysitter/father/grandmother and someone has to go. Then keep your kid close, carry Purell, use the Purell. Don't be gross. Don't let your kid proceed to lick the chairs, the pens, the boxes, the aisles, door handles. Keep them CLOSE. If you MUST go somewhere friend/family or someone is COMING OVER, then TELL THE PEOPLE so they know! Don't just wait until later when they pick up the kid to share that your offspring had some communicative disease. It's not cool.

Oh, I know the eye rolling mothers right now who think:
1. I am crazy.
2. Kids get sick.
3. I am overprotective.
4. I have psychological issues that require assistance.

That's fine. Think it. Yeah, kids get sick. It is flu season. But, help a sister out. Damn. Don't make me feel bad for protecting my kids. You should do the same damn thing.

Woohoo. OK. I feel better.

The Great Escape

2009-04-06T16:23:00.000-07:00

If I have to watch J shove one more piece of junk food in his face while remaining the same weight, I may have to pummel.

Seriously, he doesn't exercise and every time I see him he is eating a candy, chocolate, or a cookie. If I look at him eating, I gain weight.

I am only a little grumpy because I started Weight Watchers today and I was sitting at Panera for 1.5 hours and didn't order anything. I think just smelling the bread at Panera caused me to gain 2 pounds. (2/3 of the weight I lost over a six week period.) And, this week sans EB, I really need to be good.

Anyhow, I am sorting through my mail. It is like the universe got a memo that said "Tina is a Heiff" and the universe decided to send me my very own SPANX catalog. Um. Seriously, how did they know that I needed to stop breathing so I could look less fat? I have never gotten a SPANX catalog. Did they publish this JUST for me? I own SPANX already and so, as a result, I have a few things to say about this catalog.

Catalog Quote: "Offering unyielding support every day during life's most important events..."

Me: No. There is nothing unyielding about SPANX other than it squeezes the life out of your very core until all you remember about your most important event is your fat bulge escaping the squeeze of the SPANX and releasing itself to the world as the SPANX rolls below the bulge and DIGS into your ribs/ass/thighs etc.

Catalog: Many Size 4 Women wearing SPANX.

Me: Why are you wearing SPANX? STOP IT. Nothing needs smoothing, nothing needs to be held in, YOU ARE JUST FINE. Go back to eating your celery and sipping your Perrier. Sigh.

Catalog: "Over the years, we've tested virtually every brand of shapewear, and Spanx always comes out on top...That's because it gives women great shape without asking them to sacrifice comfort."

Me: Um, who is wearing this and what are they talking about? Is it COMFORTABLE to feel like a sausage? Is the fat roll releasing itself to the world the moment of comfort to which they refer? Because I am sorry Spanx catalog, the release of the fat roll was disturbing. I didn't know whether everyone could see the flee of my fat roll. I was tugging at the now rolled piece of elastic in between my rolls. That wasn't comfortable either. Were people watching me tugging at the now rolled band? Did they think a tick was involved? Did they laugh at my fat? We'll never know.

Catalog: "Behind every powerful woman, there's a pair of powerful panties."

Me: Interesting. I will deliberate this one and get back to you. My guess is that behind every powerful woman is a nice bag of Doritos Cool Ranch, a great nanny, a supportive husband, and a nice pair of flannel pajamas that allows her rolls to be free while she works. That's just a guess though.

Catalog: "It's easy to wear anything well - all you need is the right underpinning."

Me: No all you need is to stop breathing. There is nothing easy about wearing this stuff. Getting it on is a trial on it's own. I usually sweat trying to get any SPANX product on and luckily J has never walked in on me encountering the contortions required to get a SPANX tank on or a SPANX anything on. There is nothing easy about it. In fact, I think that this week while I am not at EB I will wake up at 5 every morning and put on SPANX. I will sweat and I will be a powerful woman.

You may wonder why I own any SPANX (let alone an entire drawer of SPANX) given the anger I have at this catalog and it is because the rolls need some help. And honestly, SPANX is the best roll shaping power you can buy. Having said that, it sucks (literally and figuratively). And, honestly, I won't wear it unless I REALLY NEED TO. But 3 kids later and many pints of Ben & Jerry's later, I have to bust out the SPANX every now and again. But so help me, my stated goal for a year from now, is to never touch SPANX again. I'd rather go under the knife - plastic surgery is my friend.

Meanwhile, I think I'll go watch J shove one more piece of junk in his mouth.

Great Scott! EB Session #1 is OVER.

2009-04-03T08:14:00.000-07:00

Oh, EB, my density has brought me to you. Alas, my first session of Extreme Bootcamp has expired. I am experiencing a mix of feelings - disappointed but also sort of happy. I am not thrilled. I barely lost any weight - 3 pounds. Cerebrally, I know that weight loss isn't the goal. But emotionally, that NUMBER IS IMPORTANT. Three pounds is what I lose if I don't drink water. Seriously. I worked out A LOT for six weeks. Ate A LOT better than I had for several months. And I only lost 3 pounds. That is crap on a stick. Ever heard of CRAP ON A STICK?

Having said that, my diet wasn't perfect. There is room for improvement. And because I am not the type to wallow in self pity, I will find a solution to my frozen density. It is my density, I mean my DESTINY. The solution that has worked before and will work again is Weight Watchers. Weight Watchers + Working Out = WEIGHT LOSS. No kidding McFly.

I believe this session I went in kind of fearful of what I was going to face. The focus was on getting through and improving my fitness. I honestly don't think my brain could have handled incorporating keeping WW points. I know that it is supposed to become a lifestyle but I don't think that so many parts of my lifestyle could change at once. There is just too many compartments in my life in a delicate balance to add more than one thing at a time. It could lead to a meltdown. The flux capacitor can only take so much and sorry to say it, but J is no Doc Brown.

OK, so what am I happy about - I did improve my fitness. I lost inches. My BMI came down. My body fat came down. My previously 13 minute and 40 second mile is now ELEVEN MINUTES AND NINE SECONDS (11:09!) Wow. My 14 measly sit ups turned into 34. These are amazing milestones for me. I am pleased. I still can't do a full push up but I am not aiming to be Michelle Obama here 9as much as I'd love to give the Queen a hug.) Seriously, why is that NEWS? Sigh.

I also met some very nice people. I enjoyed meeting some different folks all crazy enough to do EB. I think that you have to have a certain personality to enroll in this kind of class in the first place. So, there were some other nice bootcampers. You start to get concerned about them. You know a little about their lives. Stuff like that. It's an experience you get through together and there is a certain amount of bonding through pain that occurs. Some of them make you laugh with their comments. Some don't. Everyone handles the experience differently. I always think it is fun to watch how other people handle it. What they say? What they do? How their attitude changes. I am weird like that.

I also got to know Claremont a little better via my runs. I sort of wish I lived there instead of Pomona. You don't need any kind of weaponry to run in Claremont. It is nice. If I have to live in the Inland Empire, Claremont is certainly a better choice that Pomona. However, our house is finally starting to look like a home and so I am not inclined to go anywhere.

I have also gotten to know my DIs a little better. DI-Size0 is such a great chick. She is motivated and intelligent. She will accomplish stuff in her life. Her Size0 stature is no indication of how smart she is or how much is going on under the hoodie of her sweatshirt. She appears to actually care about us and has a sense of humor. I think it must be hard to motivate fat people into MOVING without being insulting. She seems to have mastered that. Also, to wake up that early consistently just shows to me a hard worker. I admire people like that. Both her and DI-MC have a work ethic that is impressive for people who have barely cracked their 20s. I salute Extreme Bootcamp Claremont and highly recommend it for all those who are inclined to do it.

This was a good week. A lot of hours were billed, invoices for the month were sent out, my knees feel good, my kids are healthier. My Mom is taking the kids for the weekend because the weekend is JAM PACKED with stuff - EB Breakfast, my friend's baby shower of which I am a co-hostess, a wedding. As such, I can't be a mom this weekend. So, the kiddos might as well chill with Gama. Since we wont have the kids tonight or Saturday night. I fully intend on sleeping in as much as possible on Sunday morning. J and I may go do something together too. In fact, I believe the anniversary of our first date is on Sunday. It has been six YEARS since our first date.

If I were to ask Doc Brown to put me in a DeLorean right now to see that first date, I think I would love it. We had so much fun. I went to J's office to pick him up and he taught me to salsa dance in his office. Who knows what the partners in his firm were thinking when the door closed behind us? I wore the WRONG SHOES. They were really cute but wrong for salsa dancing. I also wore a really cute black skirt that I can't find and a v-neck dressy red tank. {Probably a good thing that I can't find the damn skirt, no way I'd fit in it.} I was totally nervous because I really liked him. We ate dinner, danced, talked forever. I think I went home at 3 a.m. which is totally out of character for me. As I drove home, I called my best friend and told her I'd marry him. And I did. And I am happy I did.

And now, back to the future. Maybe we'll go to another rhythmic ceremonial ritual and recreate our first date. We haven't been dancing since Lulo was born and I hear it's good exercise.

{{Now, for the geeks, how many Back to the Future references were in this post? I love that movie. I need to see me some BTTF. }}

Don't Let the Door Hit You on the Way Out

2009-04-02T08:56:00.001-07:00

I've been taking Lulo to preschool for five weeks now, Tuesday/Thursday. We go in. I put him down to sign him in. He cries and wails, grips my leg for dear life. I kiss him, tell him I love him, and that I'll be back after lunch. He cries and wails. I call the school at 9:00 and they tell me - "Oh, Lulo is great, he is outside dancing with his penguin/elephant/dinosaur." Yay!

The drama commenced early today. He wouldn't let me put on his shoes or socks. We wrestled. Crying and wailing. Whining. Exhaustion. He wants to go back in the house and sit on the couch (definitely my kid!). We get to school - his eyes are squished closed. He doesn't want to see that we are there. (Is he joking? This is new.) I take him out of his seat, carry him into school, get to the classroom. Put him down to sign him. He runs happily to his teacher. Gives her a hug.

"Bye Bye Mama. See you later," says Lulo.

"OK. Bye Lulo, I love you, See you after lunch."

"Bye Mama." Silence. Playing happily. Waving. Big grin.

I looked at his teacher confused and walked out of the room, rejected by my child. Oh little Lulo...bu-bye.

Huh, wha, where did the wailing go? OK well, we made it. We survived the transition? When did that happen?

I am so happy we are here but oh, it's a little sad too. I don't want him to cry but I also don't want him to be happy to see me leave. Ha ha. On the one hand, I want him so badly to grow up so that the tantrums will lessen and the problems we have now that require SO MUCH PATIENCE will be replaced by the problems that require logic and reasoning. I think I'll be able to cope with that better somehow. But, at the same time, how I love his little Velcro shoes and sitting with him on the couch in the morning. Talking about Elmo.

I love that sense of accomplishment that I get after he eats a banana after a complete meltdown because I peeled the banana. Um, what am I saying? I don't like that at all. But, it seems my Lulo is getting into the swing of school. And, bittersweet as it may be, I am happy that he is enjoying it. Grow little one. Bye.

Runner's Hi Do You Have Directions?

2009-03-31T16:53:00.001-07:00

EB today consisted of a nice long run (or at least it did for me). We got there and did our warm-up stuff and then we started running. Now, of course, you can imagine that when a group of people go out on a run - the group staggers. The more seasoned bootcampers take longer routes and are first in line. The less seasoned (or wholly unseasoned bootcampers, like myself) end up sort of in the back.

Today, I was sort of running second to last. I could see the lady in front of me for a good part of the run but then I lost her. I couldn't see the DI and other bootcamper behind me. So, like Forrest trying to come to grips with his loss of Jenny, I just ran. I was sort of lost. Sort of not. I knew what city I was in but I had NO IDEA what street I was on. I sort of prayed that the street I was coming up on was the street I thought it was. I sort of was thinking about the fact that I may need to ask someone but no one was around. (Where is a cop when you need them?)Yeah, it was sort of special. I guess that is why I kept jogging - because if I stopped I would never have known if I was going the right way.

Then I started thinking...would anyone find me? And why didn't I bring my cell phone? I wondered if J would look for me if I never came home. Or, whether J would just go back to work and let the babies cry until they walked out of the room when they were 3 all dressed and ready to go to preschool? Would I be like Natalie Holloway? No because I wasn't drinking and I wasn't in Aruba? Would I be like what's her name - the one who wasn't killed by (but was having an affair with) the guy they thought killed her? Name, name. CHANDRA LEVY. Condit. Bleck. She was running too. But, nope, no affair here. Then I thought of poor Laci. But thankfully, I am not pregnant and although J may not have a Tina Fan Club every day, I don't think he is thinking of murder. {Number 1 cause of death of pregnant women: MURDER. So stick that in your pipe and smoke it.} Besides that, against popular advice, we don't have any life insurance so my death would leave a huge gaping hole in the daily life of my family even though...according to J, I do nothing. Anywho. Yeah, no life insurance, we really ought to get that and write a will. Yes, I really thought of all these things...in what I think was the first mile. Why? Because that is what disturbed people like me think of.

Now, running for me has never been something I enjoyed but today, it wasn't horrible. I thought I would need music or company to run for that long but the noise in my head was plenty (see above). It was quiet and I felt good. Nothing hurt (except my side) and even though I am not a very fast runner, I stayed jogging for...hold on to your seats...3 miles. Can you believe it?

Now, mind you, I jogged into camp today and I felt like a dipball. Everyone was already stretching and stuff. It was time to go home. But, you know what, I did it. And I went to EB feeling sort of crappy this morning, and that jog took the bleck right out of me. I have felt good all day.

EB really has made me feel better, taller (if that is possible), more energetic, less oaf. I don't think I have lost all that much weight but I don't feel as flabby. I also have created goals for myself. When I started it was like, "if I can make it to that tree, then I will let myself walk a little." Now, it's like, "I can't stop jogging." Next session, it may be "I want to keep this pace or make it back in X amount of time." This is good for me.

I am not one to be all fitness advocate. Rah Rah Tammy Lee Webb, look at my Abs O Steel. But, I now get why people end up sticking to a routine. It can be invigorating and it feels good. I have never come back from working out feeling like I shouldn't have gone.

This has been a good experience. The DIs are great. They are encouraging and knowledgeable and likable. You know there is a very delicate balance between bossing a person around to do stuff they don't think they can do AND being kind. The DIs manage it. This experience has been worth every minute's lost sleep. Go EB.

I was chitchatting with DI-Size0 on Facebook today. I was sort of giving her a hard time for ditching me in the middle of Claremont somewhere. I kind of wanted her impression about how we have all improved and whether that was a source of pride for her. And she was saying that the only time they get annoyed as DIs is when someone drops all that money and then they aren't motivated or encouraged by the DIs and they sort of go half assed. I don't get this attitude either (and I don't think anyone in my group has this attitude). I mean, when I don't do something it's truly because I can't. I don't get the concept of paying to get your ass kicked at 5 am and then not really doing it. Anyhow, kick my ass. I pretty much always do my best - even if it means I am in the middle of nowhere looking for a cop or fearing a murderer.

I know this "rah rah EB" post is premature. I still have 3 more days. But, I had to say it now because I am just filled with happy happy joy joy emotions. Is this what they call a runner's high? Well if it is, I like it. Bring on the endorphins people, I am here to stay.

Snoozing

2009-03-30T19:20:00.000-07:00

The alarm went off today, Week 6, Day 1. Woh boy. I fell asleep at 8:30 last night which technically means that I slept 8 hours but, let me tell you after all that twin partying I did yesterday, I started interrogating myself about the need to go to EB. So, I snoozed. Then, I got up at 5 and freaked that I would be late. I got there on time. I could have snoozed another time - I need to be a better snoozer.

So much jump roping. We were supposed to be aiming for 300 jumps in 3 minutes. Uh huh, yeah. I got to 173. And I am fairly sure that my jumps caused the earthquake in San Francisco today. Yep, I started the ripple effect that caused the earthquake.

Then we did some sitting against the wall (no chair - what's up with that?) Lunges. Squats. We also did something awful called a bear crawl. Bears would never do this shit. Bears are totally lazy animals. It was impossible. We had weights in our hands and we were in push up position but with our asses in the air. Poor helicopters. Anyhow, then we crawled. That kicked my butt, seriously. It is really hard. Go try it. If that is how bears feel when they walk around, I totally get hibernation. Bears snooze so they don't have to do a bear crawl.

Oh, so many painful things. And now, tonight, I am wiped out. I didn't feel good when I woke up and I still don't. Just achey and my throat hurts. I NEED TO MAKE IT THROUGH WEEK 6. I can't miss. I feel like my knees already made me miss like a week - I can't miss any more!!!

I feel challenged. Challenged at EB. Challenged at life. Challenged at motherhood. How will I make it through the next 4 days sick? How will I make dinner most every night for the next 50 years? How will I make it through three children going through the terrible twos and threes? I don't have this kind of patience. Seriously.

I need to snooze.

Baby Fiesta

2009-03-29T19:01:00.001-07:00

I am not a hostess by nature. Today we had the twins' first year birthday party. We had a lot of people over - family (from near and far), friends (old and new), my nurses from the hospital (now friends), and a bunch of kids. The day was beautiful, the kids had fun, there was food and merriment. J finally "finished" the backyard (more or less) but it looks AMAZING. He did a good job. In fact, we TOTALLY can throw tons of parties now this summer. Too bad I am a sucky hostess.

Seriously, of all the wonderful genes my Mom failed to pass on, one was the hostess gene. I have watched my mother effortlessly host parties of 4 to parties of 100+ and she doesn't break a sweat. She smiles the whole time, the food is always amazing (and SHE makes it), and everyone always seems to have an amazing time.

I, on the other hand, suck. I mean, maybe everything turns out OK. The food, usually take out, is here. But, even with all the help that I receive from the pizza folks and Costco and family and nannies. I totally break a sweat. I pretty much totter around and I don't make anything look easy or effortless. I look exhausted. I feel exhausted. I always know I could have done better. I suck at the hostess thing. This is something that I want to improve on but I don't think I can really. I mean. I am always going to be all stressed out about stuff "turning out ok".

Of course, I have always believed my mother was in a league of her own. And I still do believe this - she is enchanting, graceful, and skilled. But, a few weeks ago we went to my friend's kid's birthday party and seriously, she rocks. The food was amazing and she made it. Her house was right out of the Pottery Barn catalog. And she was skinny. And she has a full time job. And she has 2 kids. I was jealous :) And I now know, I have NO excuse for being so lame.

The day was so fun though. It was great see how cute the boys looked. They were in a fairly decent mood all day with a few crying spells. Everyone enjoyed them and so did I.

My son, Lulo, hated the bouncy thing. This is genetic and I am glad I have passed on that very positive trait. I hate the Bouncy Bouncy too. I have resisted the Bouncy Bouncy for 2.5 years and for this party I had to give in: (1) we have a backyard now and (2) what are 30 kids going to do for 3 hours if there is no Bouncy Bouncy. I sort of swore that I would NEVER get a Bouncy Bouncy. So, today, I ate my words (and many other things that would anger my DIs.) Anywho, I think parents like it when you exhaust their children in the Bouncy Bouncy and then they take home sleepy children that CRASH at night. That is good. Parents like me tonight.

It was totally cool to see my nurses from the hospital. It sort of brought the year around full circle. The three ladies who showed up to the party got me through 80 days. Wow. Ups and downs, tears, laughter, food, sickness, frustration, fear. They helped me get those boys and for them, I will always be grateful. I think they had fun seeing them too. I think we all sort of wondered how the year passed so quickly.

I saw my best friend R who I haven't seen since she brought her daughter home from the hospital. Her little angel is SO CUTE, so teeny. She was sweet and lovely, and I don't think I heard her cry the ENTIRE time she was here. She was wearing a cute little skirt and a cute little top (that I got her ;)). She had cute little fingers and cute little toes. She has BEAUTIFUL BLUE EYES. And you know what that little angelic girl made me think of....

....I DEFINITELY DON'T WANT TO TRY FOR A GIRL!!! Ha, ha. Nope. Not me. I don't want to do this baby stuff again. Not. Having. A. Girl. Not. Having. More. Babies. Done, done, and done. Don't ask me. You know why? Because the answer WON'T CHANGE!! DONE!

I am soooo happy we made it to this 1 year birthday party.
I am soooo happy that we made our last pitcher of Enfamil formula on Thursday.
I am soooo happy that the tears from now on will lessen.
I am soooo happy they are going to be more mobile (I think).

Um, yeah TOTALLY DONE WITH LITTLE BABIES!!! TOTALLY! Dancing! Shakin it!!! Bate Bate. Shimmying. Done, done, done. They are ONE!! YEAH!! I had my LAST FIRST BIRTHDAY PARTY!!! Hee hee hee. Shakin it.

OK. This hostess is going to go pass out now. I am happy I got here...with these boys, with J, with this fabulous day, with amazing family and supportive, loving friends. I am happy here on the other side of the first birthday party of my twins. What a day!

The Important Stuff

2009-03-26T20:23:00.001-07:00

There I was yesterday thinking I was hot shit for not walking during our 1.7 mile run at EB. For me, not walking for 1.7 miles is pretty miraculous. If you remember on our first day, I had to walk during our mile run. So, yesterday, I was all stoked that I managed to keep at a jog the whole 1.7 miles.

So, confidently, I go to EB today thinking - well, we did a long run yesterday so we probably won't run much if at all.

Ha.
Ha.
Ha.

Never, ever attempt to psychoanalyze bootcamp. If you do, you are dead. If you think you know what you are going to do - you don't. And just when you think you are catching the drift of things, BANG, they throw in an incline resembling Mount Olympus.

OK. So we did our calisthenics - jumping jacks, 8 counts, etc. Some stomach stuff. Then we set off for a run. I think we maybe ran 1/2 a mile or 3/4 of a mile and we got to an steep, steep hill. DI-Size0 stayed at the bottom. DI-MC ran up to the top. And us bootcampers, we went up and down, up and down, up and down. I guess each stretch up the hill was maybe 1/8-1/4 of a mile. I did it 5 times. There were only 3 of us there today. The other 2 ladies are veterans and were jamming and did it 6 times. I was a sad, sad display. I suffered. I tried to stay at a very slow jog as much as possible both up and down and I think I only slowed to a walk a couple times. But that run back to camp (after Kilimanjaro), unfortunately, wasn't a run at all. I walked about half of it. So sad. Anyhow, I am a little sore tonight. My knees, thankfully, don't ache. But, I am tired. Really tired.

Tomorrow is the last day of Week 5 and these five weeks have gone very quickly. I have really enjoyed myself and I think I am going to do this again. Suffering or not, I am enjoying it. And, I like that I am improving. I am so competitive with my own self that this is a new challenge for me to meet. I also am in awe of the woman, T, who has been doing this for a year. One year. Every day. Wow. The lady can move - she jumps, she runs, she can do all the stuff. I am jealous. I don't think I will ever be as good as her but I do think I can have a lot of room for improvement. I want to be the best version of me. I can, I can, I really can.

All my children are sick. My husband is sick. The twins' birthday party is on Sunday - nothing is ready. Jojo gets his new effing helmet tomorrow. Things are real fun here. But, you know, at least I can jog 1.7 miles that's all that matters.

Celebrate

2009-03-25T12:33:00.000-07:00

How did this happen? My twins are 1. We survived the first year. Oh, I am just so overwhelmed with this day. And, because I am a pessimist by nature, I am overwhelmed by the fact that they are ok, that we are ok. That things did indeed turn out fairly well.

Oh, yes. The first five months or so, I pretty much wanted to die. The sleep deprivation was horrible. The search for a proper nanny was pretty terrible. But, now, we are here on the other side and it is bright and cheery! Yeah, God!

What a blessing and joy Juju and Jojo are. Being greeted by their smiles every morning is like magic. To think that one year ago today, I got a glimpse of them as soon as they were delivered and then they were immediately taken to the NICU and then I didn't see them until I could move (which wasn't until late that night.) I can't believe that they were so tiny, so fragile, and so unknown to me just one year ago. Oh, there were so many things that could have gone wrong, that didn't go wrong. Wow. Like I said, I am overwhelmed.

Jojo is fiery. Full of energy. He laughs and smiles a lot. His laugh is a gurgle and it is funny to hear. I wish I could bottle his laugh. His eyes dance and he is always looking around, exploring, thinking, and mesmerized by Lulo. He has one tooth and doesn't walk or crawl. He sits and chills or he stands. He isn't chunky and he isn't skinny. He is just right - he is almost muscular.

Juju is changing personalities as of late. He started out very very mellow. He only cried when something was amiss. He slept good. He never caused any issues. Now, he wants more attention. He is still pretty mellow but is becoming serious, dolling out his smiles for the truly special occasions. He is chunky, cuddly, and lovable.

Happy Birthday to my little Angels. I celebrate them.

Sockie, Sockie, Bate, Bate

2009-03-24T10:12:00.001-07:00

Lulo is going through a cute phase that has appeared more than the "screaming, tantrums, and throwing food" phase that had been happening a little too much for my liking.

At night, when I can't get him into footie pjs and he requests (uh, demands) either "penguin pants" or "crocodile pants" or "crab pants", I have been putting them on AND a pair of socks. It is still cold and the boy still refuses to let me put a blanket on him. Oh, Back to Sleep Campaign, my kids won't sleep with blankets? It looks like they are prisoners or something. Or it looks like I am a mean Mom who keeps the beds sparse and sad because I don't feel like my children deserve joy and comfort. Anyhow.

I put his little socks on and he literally takes them off 300x in the span of the 15 minutes that I sit and read him 3 books. He takes one off and goes SOCKIE SOCKIE SOCKIE. So, I replace it. Then, he takes the other one off. SOCKIE SOCKIE SOCKIE. The first 85x, I am amused and I sort of love his cute little feet and cute little socks. But by the 87th time, I am THIIIIIS close to putting his sockie somewhere unpleasant. But, I keep doing it. And you may wonder, why doesn't she just stop putting them on. Well, because he spazzes. Then you may wonder, why don't you just prevent him from taking them off. Well, because he spazzes.

And you know, I am enjoying the cute phase, the no screaming phase. Oh, and the twins are trying to nod off RIGHT NEXT door so a WAIL that could wake the dead from Lulo about a sock that I could easily replace, well, it's not worth all THREE screaming. So, little sockies on and off, on and off.

In the morning, we usually hang out and his new thing is he wants to "bate bate" (pronounced vat-ay, vat-ay for you gringos out there). Oh little Dora, how you teach us Spanish and teach us to bate bate. BATE BATE CHOCOLATE, MIX YOUR CHOCOLATE CHOCOLATE. I do a little dance just singing it. When I make pancakes, waffles, muffins etc. in the morning, I always now ask Luk if he wants to BATE BATE and he loves to. My little budding baker. BATE BATE CHOCOLATE. Come on, shake it, sing it, stir it. Do the dance. It's addictive.

Anyhow, we haven't vatayed much lately because it seems that mixing up a batch of chocolate chip muffins after EB would defeat the purpose. Today, I think we ran up stairs and ran down a ramp for about 30 minutes....maybe it was 15. But we ran up a lot of stairs. Stairs, weirdly, don't bother me. This may be a direct result of my house made of stairs. I can move up and down stairs. I rock at stairs. It was the HOPPING up the stairs that was a little challenging. I had to hold on to the railing or my mad hopping skills were seriously stunted. Why can't I hop? Is this a difficult skill? Don't 2 year olds have this skill down?

We also did A LOT of stomach work. Hovering, then hovering on our left side, then our right. Then hovering and then sticking our butts up in the air then hovering again. No break. Yeah, I was adorable.

Tomorrow at EB I am going to suggest a little BATE BATE a la Dora to get the party started. I believe this works the arms, the abs, and if you put your ass into it, I am fairly sure that it is more efficient than lunges and squats.

Costco Fever

2009-03-23T19:09:00.000-07:00

Alright folks. I just went to Costco after a loooooooooooooooooooooong day. And I thought, ok, how bad can it be? People fled to Costco this weekend for their large muffins and extremely large container of pineapple. Monday after 7 is a good time to go to Costco.

Well, no, no it is not.

Last week I sent Nanny the Great (yes, there are 2 nannies, at different times) to Costco for me with a list of stuff. I think I have done this 1200 times with no problem. Last week, they confiscated my card and told her to leave the premises. Nice. Totally a time saver. So, I had to schlep to Costco to get my card. I gave the "manager" a lecture about consistency which he completely did not understand and I left with my last 4 containers of formula (yeah!) and some diapers.

So, today, since I couldn't send Nanny the Great due to the aforementioned incident which has resulted in a "Manager's Hold" on my card, I went at night. After work, after dinner, after bed time, after bath time.

Here's what I don't get and maybe you can illuminate this for me. Or, I guess I do get it but I don't like it...

WHY ARE THERE CHILDREN UNDER THE AGE OF TWO STILL AWAKE AND RUNNING AROUND COSTCO AT EIGHT P.M. ? No, seriously. Why? Don't parents understand the value of sleep and a schedule and routine. The kids were overstimulated, tired, freaking out, dragging their poor little feet. Children need a schedule. They thrive on one. Rest helps their little mind rejuvenate. Kids don't need to be at Costco at 8 pm. They need to be in their jammies and if not asleep, close to it. KIDS SHOULD NOT BE AT COSTCO ON A MONDAY AT EIGHT!!!

The lines were obscene.

The people coughing without covering their mouths were abundant. Flu season people. Seriously, embrace it.

Those muffins are really big.

There was a big little girl (maybe 6) in a too small pink tank top downing a large hot dog. She was enjoying every second of it. Meanwhile, she was no doubt catching PNEUMONIA because it was 55 degrees outside and she shouldn't have been outside in a tank top.

I bought a Rotisserie Chicken. I have much love for the Rotiss. You cut it up and can use it in salads, enchiladas, pasta, chicken salad, ANYTHING. Oh, Rotiss, you sing to me. And no I didn't even sneak a little bit of that yummy Rotiss skin...nope, no I didn't.

Oh, and the best part was...after all that walking up and down the aisles, my knees were PAINLESS. EB was pretty good today. We ran, but not too much. I managed to do jumping jacks without looking like a geriatric. I did four counts in 6 counts, 8 counts in 12 counts, and ran without limping. It's all good people, all good.

And so, dear Costco. When can I come within your walls and not have to battle the evils of our society? Children without routine, people with poor hygiene, and large serving sizes that I am certain are contributing to the obesity problem in America. Seriously. Costco was gross today. I need a drink.

This Sunday Last Year

2009-03-22T18:58:00.001-07:00

I can't help but think of this same day last year. This was the last Sunday that I was strapped to a bed before the babies were born. I had spent 76 days in the hospital at this point.

76 days without putting Lulo to bed at night.
76 days without being at home.
76 days without my bed.
76 days without making a meal.
76 days without drying off with my own towels.
76 days without cable TV.
76 days without doing my hair or putting on makeup.
76 days without privacy or comfort.

It was a strange time. It was filled with so much worry. I remember sitting in the hospital bed thinking about my twins who had TTTS. Baby A on a monitor which usually was located so far down in my pants that it was uncomfortable. Baby B on another monitor. They got easier and easier to find as the days passed, but, inevitably every day, some poor nurse had her hand down my pants searching for a heart beat. Was it the same heart beat, my heart beat, the other baby's heart beat? We would wait. More waiting. We usually would find the heart beat. Sometimes, everyone would get a little nervous. A doctor was called...they rushed in with an ultrasound machine. Baby A - Check. Baby B - Check. Sigh of relief. What a strange time.

This Sunday was bittersweet. Those 76 days were not easy but you get into a routine. I would order something awful for breakfast, eat it, work a little bit, take a fast shower, nurse would come in and we'd find the babies, I'd work again, order a terrible lunch, work a little bit more, eat a terrible lunch, work a little bit more, sneak in a little caffeine (1 baby can of coke a day), work a little bit more, order dinner, watch jeopardy while eating dinner, mess around on the internet, convince the nurse to let me have a little monitor break, stretch, walk around, pee, brush teeth, bed, episode of Seinfeld, sleep poorly.

That kind of day repeated itself over and over and over. Of course, it was peppered by the visits of my Mom and Lulo, my Lulo, the never ending search for heartbeats, some occasional visits by the attendings, an occasional visit by Fetal god (Dr. P), a call or visit here and there from J. But, that was my day in a nutshell.

I remember being horribly scared on this Sunday that I had spent all this time nurturing these children in a hospital bed and that when Tuesday would come along and I'd have my c-section - it would all go wrong. I had a fear that one of them, both of them, or all three of us would somehow not make it through the c-section. I had fears that Jujo or Jojo wouldn't be healthy. I had fears that the babies would have extended stays at the NICU. I had fears they would have no stay in the NICU and then I would have to come home and be completely unprepared.

But, alas, they are fine. And, honestly, they were worth every minute in that bed.

This Sunday was crazy. No routine at all. I have three healthy boys full of energy. A photographer came over and took pictures because they are almost one year old! My goodness. Picture days are never easy. The poor photographer, God bless her. Jujo was cranky, which made Jojo cranky. Lulo was uncooperative. All three have beuatiful smiles, none of the smiles were participating today. It was cold outside. The lack of cooperation of all three made me cranky. I took it out on J. J decided that since he was already being terribly unhelpful and not at all intuitive- he would continue to do so. Photographer left - probably with not a very good impression of me. I was exhausted. Fed Lulo lunch. Heard babies wailing for attention while J played on his iTouch. Out of pure rage and frustration, threw J's iTouch in the garbage. Put Lulo down for a nap. Fed twins. Twins. 2 beautiful healthy twins. Who cares about the rest?

I am so lucky, I am so blessed. We have come so far this year. It went so quickly. I am happy it went quickly because if it went slower, I wouldn't have survived. I think back to me, in that bed, last year. Worried. Terrified for my boys, my family. But, now, we are here. What a year. Wow. They turned my life upside down and I love it.

Pomona, It's Way Cool Now.

2009-03-19T16:15:00.001-07:00

I live in Pomona. Pomona pretty much sucks.

But I experienced a soaring pride for Pomona today. I was getting off the freeway at the 10 and Garey. I was under the bridge, waiting for the light to turn green. And then I saw it, 14 million police motorcycles, several black Towncars (and other cars), and more cops, some big SUV type cars (also all black).

Oh yes my friends, it was the Obama motorcade. I cheered. I called J and told him I was part of a historical moment. He chuckled. This is one time I didn't mind sitting in traffic. It was quick and fun. And you know, I saw Obama's car. All is right with the world.

A woman (who clearly isn't a Pomona resident) popped her head out of the car, whipped out her Nikon with a zoom lens and took a photo. She is lucky she didn't lose her melon and her Nikon in one fell swoop. This is Pomona lady and every cop in Pomona is following Obama right now. Don't stick anything outside your window.

A few weeks ago, J left his 3 year old, dirty, construction, tennis shoes on our doorstep. They were stolen. Pomona, it's so classy.

Pomona is so classy that in October some lovely young men broke into my car and took my GPS, the Diego party decorations that I bought for my Lulo's birthday, my car manual, a spare key FOR THE CAR, and my bag of earthquake supplies consisting of clothes that haven't fit me since I stopped living with my parents and some 14 year old granola bars. They left the unopened bottle of red wine. Pomona, it drips with class.

Anyhow, Obama and I are tight now. He was in my hood. Woot Woot. That was pretty cool.

Networking.

2009-03-19T12:25:00.000-07:00

I started my practice over two years ago. I had no clients.

I started a practice because I refused to relocate with my in house position and so there I was, jobless with a severance package.

I had no clients.

So, J said, well go get some. Start networking.

I hate the word "network". I think the concept of networking is a crock of shit. Walking into a room in which I know NO ONE and "networking" makes me nauseous. It requires a "fakeness" which I do not possess. I am blunt. I am honest. I honestly don't want Mary Kay products. I also don't want a financial planner - if they were doing so great financially they wouldn't need to be networking. Right?

I have heard MANY networking experts talk about how networking is about relationships. Even today at my NAWBO meeting I heard the speaker talk about "relationship marketing". BLECK. "Relationship marketing" is the new networking. This is not to say that the speaker was not good. She was very good.

"Relationship marketing" just makes it sound even more awkward. Doesn't it? The word network sounds clinical. Relationship marketing sounds like urinary tract infection. Add marketing to the word relationship - and to me, the relationship is somehow gone. Why can't they just call networking - "be human and make friends and be a good business person and see what happens."

But, I guess that is what I ended up doing. I went to 12,000 meetings and did not fit in with a lot of different groups. Then, I found a few groups I liked because the ladies seemed nice and the speaker topics were good. So I joined those. I got on the Board. I became friendly with these women. And, AHA, relationships! The referrals I get are always from people who have become friends or colleagues because PEOPLE DON'T GIVE YOU BUSINESS BECAUSE THEY GET YOUR CARD. They don't know you. I won't put my name behind someone unless I know them. And yes, there isn't infinite time to know everyone but "networking" takes time, a LONG time. Because getting friendly with people takes a long time. This month they are working on "friendship" at Luk's preschool. I am thinking that instead of getting advice on relationship marketing we should just all attend Luk's preschool? Any takers?

However, I think that when people hire you (if it's not just a cold call), it is because they've seen you over and over. So, they assume, that person is dependable. I can give her work. They don't know the quality of the work necessarily. They just know that you can show up, make friends, and be nice for 1 hour. For example, I went to Tae Bo classes for about 1.5 years in Long Beach. I became friends with a girl in there - she referred her Dad. He is a good client. I got a client because I DID TAE BO. "Networking" anyone? Nope. I'm just going to work out more.

Speaking of working out more, one of my EB DIs actually was asking me trademark stuff today and e-mailed me. I think this is God's way of rewarding my fatness and rolls or rather, getting rid of fatness or rolls.

Today was a pretty good day at EB. I got there feeling pretty good. Not in pain anywhere. Then we ran. Even with my new cute RUNNER tennis shoes, I still had some pain. But, not as bad and mostly in my left knee. That's an improvement, right? Then we did a variety of things that were hard to do with a bad knee and fat hanging everywhere.

Specifically, there was this very special exercise called the crocodile or the alligator or something reptilian, I can't remember, I was suffering. You start out sort of in push up position, then you inch your hands back until your bootie is in the air, then you inch you hands forward until you are back in push up position, then you do a push up, and then you start all over again. After doing 45 of these (or maybe 4 or 5), I wanted to pretty much keel. It was fun. No reptile would do this and if they did, I suspect it is easier for them and they don't add a push up. Lucky little reptiles.

Moral of the Story: Workout and Go to Preschool, Business Will Come.

Helmet Season

2009-03-17T13:20:00.001-07:00

Jujo graduated from his helmet in January. Jojo is still in his helmet - see above. Huh? Helmet, what? Helmet is not the PC term. The PC term is DOC band. I am sick of being PC - it is a HELMET.

My twins got their helmets in October 2008 because they both had significant flat spots on their heads (termed "plagiocephaly"). I think when kids used to have flat spots the parents just said "oh, they have a flat head, oh well, at least they have hair". Not in this day and age my friends, now you get helmets.

Now, this is not to say that these helmets were not needed. Both boys had significant asymmetry in their faces because of this flat spot. So, this went beyond the mere flat head, it was affecting their face. I am not working for a perfectly round head. However, they were still beautiful to me. I never thought it was that bad. But mothers never do I guess. The doctors, physical therapists, my MIL, my Mom, J, everyone thought these helmets were for the best. So, "for the best", I (for the most part) have had to drive to Pasadena every other week (or more sometimes) for fittings, appointments, etc. I am not being a martyr here - I know there are worse things to do. There are wonderful, sad mothers who aren't seeing there kids back and forth for merely cosmetic appointments but for much more serious ailments.

But, I am a little bitter about the helmet thing and I don't know why. When they first got them, I was emotional about it. I honestly don't like seeing their cute little head covered by the helmet. We pimped out the helmets and so they look pretty cool but it doesn't change the fact that the kid is WEARING A HELMET. Jojo has never liked his helmet. He adjusted to it much more slowly than Jujo. And the poor kid of course is the one who has had to be in it longer.

Anyhow, the first helmet was ok but Jojo had heat rash issues and grew out of it rather quickly. Then, we were advised that a second helmet would be a good idea because not as much progress was made. So, in January, he was fitted for a new helmet which was supposed to see him through 4 months and then NO MORE HELMET. Since then, he has spent about half of his nights taking OFF HIS HELMET. At 2 a.m., I will wake up and watch Jojo playing with his helmet. At 7 a.m., when I go in, the helmet is on his leg...making great strides in making HIS HEAD ROUND? Um, no. At least he gives me a cute little devious smile, when I take the helmet off his leg.

So, now, they have recommended a third helmet. One that he supposedly won't easily be able take off. The owner of Cranial Tech is not charging us for this privilege. (As an aside, I just want to say that Cranial Tech is AMAZING. The people there are nice, supportive, accommodating to twins, AMAZING. Really good, well-run, well-meaning, business. I can't say enough good things about the place. Go Cranial Tech, Pasadena, Woot! Woot!)

But, that doesn't make me less sick of the helmet! Jojo tolerates the thing but he hates it. I can see that he hates it. I don't blame him.

So, I have tried to make a compelling argument to J that Jojo is looking much better and maybe we should just let things lie and accept his head shape. People don't have perfect heads. People don't have perfect anything. And honestly, I don't think he looks that bad. (OK, OK, I KNOW I AM HIS MOTHER and I don't see it). But, he looks fine to me. He really really looks fine. I see the flat spot but his head looks fine. His symmetry is much better. Not perfect, but better.

J argues that we should give Jojo every advantage in life (to the extent possible). He says that people judge you right away. If you have a "deformity" or a "facial flaw", it could prevent you from getting jobs, getting girlfriends, etc. He makes it sound like this decision is one that will affect his whole life. And yes, maybe it will and that is why I am sort of deferring to J on this one. But, I guess I just don't see it this way. Don't get me wrong, I understand that people are judged for how they look. I get that. It is an unfortunate thing but I get it. That is life.

But, is this small of a flaw, a few millimeters, going to prevent him from being on the bench? getting married? working summers as a lifeguard? Isn't it more likely that he'll be teased for not being circumcised or for being too tall or too short or too cute or too smart? Kids will find anything to tease you about. Adults are kinder but eventually his cranial aesthetic is going to be overpowered by what I hope will be a good inner cranial area - his brain, his common sense, his politeness, his faith, his good actions, his generosity of spirit.

I got teased mercilessly for my nose growing up. Joey Termini used to say it looked like I had a Winnebago on my face. Should my parents have rushed me off to Dr. Ray and said "fix her flaws" because she won't get a job looking like this? (Side note: Of course, the minute I could get a nose job...I did. I am still self conscious about my nose. People still make fun of it...including J.) Did my schnoz give me character? Shouldn't I be giving Joey Termini thanks? Would Jojo say, if I "won" the "forget the helmet" argument, "why didn't you fix my head, Mom?"

Jojo won't have the opportunity to do this later like I did. In a few months, his head will be hard, it won't grow as fast, it's shape will be fixed forever. But, isn't getting teased about your flaws part of growing up? Will anyone even notice this flaw? Will anyone walk up to him with a ruler and say...oh wow, your left eye is 2 mm lower than your right one? Will they notice that his glasses don't sit quite right? Will his football helmet not fit right? {{I hate football, that is ok with me.}} Sports like soccer and tennis with no helmets and long hair really are JUST fine with me.

I guess this is just one of those things we do. We don't like it but we do it because it is good for them. "They" say he won't remember this, that it doesn't hurt, that it is for his own cosmetic good. The only person bothered by this is me - seeing my kid tolerating this bugs me, seeing my kid wearing this, bugs me!

Aren't these the same arguments that doctors make when they want you to circumcise your kids: (1) they won't remember, (2) it doesn't hurt, (3) it is for their own good so they don't get teased in school? So, what did we do, the opposite of what doctor's said, we disagreed, we didn't circumcise the boys. And now, we are doing something else cosmetic for the same reasons the doctor's gave for circumcision.

I don't know. I'm just sayin'.

Jojo will keep his helmet. The decision has been made. But, as with all decisions parents make, you never know if it was the right one, the best one...

He's a cutie and I love him. We just gotta get through helmet season.

Just Being Safe Instead of Sorry

2009-03-16T17:04:00.000-07:00

Last night I was really tired from the weekend so I thought I would crash the minute Big Love was over. But, as Big Love wore on, I started to feel really, really lousy. Sick, achy, throat hurting, lousy. So, I drank juice, swallowed down Vitamin C, took some meds, and laid down. Then, I spent the next 7 hours swallowing to see if my throat still hurt...does anyone else do this?

I am an insomniac. I have been since high school. There are many nights that I lay there going over lists in my brain. Thinking about a client, an opposing counsel, a book, the kids, the Night Stalker, etc. etc.

J thinks I am an insomniac because of the blue glow emitted by the two video monitors I have on my night stand. It's almost like Christmas with the little red lights that flash JUST BECAUSE of the static. Why can't these monitor companies figure out how to get rid of the red lights just for static? Anyhow, that is neither here nor there. There were no monitors in high school. I still couldn't sleep.

And then last night, my swallowing festivities really created extra sleep issues:
10:15 My throat hurts.
10:20 Swallow
10:21 Yep still hurts.
11:45 Swallow
11:46 Yep still hurts.
2:30 Swallow
2:31 Yep still hurts.

I need help. I think it is just because I knew I couldn't do EB if I felt crappy. So, I kept laying there hoping I would feel better.

And then, I heard a baby cry. So I looked at the first monitor - no crying. Then, I looked at the second monitor. No crying. I called J in the office - he wasn't crying. He didn't obtain a baby through the window. J was annoyed that I called asking him about babies.

So, I freaked out. Then, I started thinking about this forwarded email I got. The forward said to never open your door just because you hear a baby cry because the new scam is to get someone to open the door and then commit manslaughter. But then, I got worried that some baby was out there. And I laid in bed, waiting for more crying. Thinking about manslaughter.

It was a fun night. I didn't go to EB this morning. My throat still hurts. I am still alive. There are no babies on my doorstep. There are three in my house. All is well. And, no, I am not crying.

Good Night

2009-03-13T19:01:00.000-07:00

My parents wanted to spend some extra time with Lulo and so I gave Lulo to my Mom this afternoon and will meet up with them this weekend at my parent's house. The nightly ritual here is that I read Lulo books and put him to bed and whoever else is here (J, Nanny Extraordinaire, my Mom, my MIL, etc.) feeds the twins their bottles and put them to bed.

The twins are almost 1.

Today was the first time (in my memory) that I put them to bed.

I was totally nervous. I had to ask Nanny Extraordinaire questions like: (1) who usually finishes first? (2) does the other one cry while the other one is finishing? (3) do you put one to bed while the other finishes? (4) what do you do if they both start crying? I got the answer I have often given to clients: "It depends." This was not a satisfying answer. But, I imagine that answer isn't satisfying for most people.

Anyhow, the experience went rather smoothly actually. Juju finished first. Jojo finished about 30 seconds later. I just kind of rubbed Juju's bloated, chubby belly while Jojo finished his bottle. Then I picked up Juju, he let out a monstrous belch. And while, I was holding Jojo to put him down, Juju started to cry. And I started to sweat. Then I put Jojo down, prayed he wouldn't cry. Comforted Juju. He stopped. Jojo started. Both stopped. And, I thanked God, rung out my t-shirt, and headed for the closest bottle of wine I could find. God bless Nanny Extraordinaire.

I am kind of sad though.

As the twins get older, I realize how little time I have spent with them as individuals. Almost no time with EACH of them. I haven't even put them to bed. That's weird, right? I think it's sad I have to ask Nanny Extraordinaire how to put my own kids to bed.

She is such a great nanny. I love her. Seriously, love her.

We don't know what we'd do without her. She works hard, she has an amazing attitude, she is good with my kids, she is trustworthy, she is loving (without being Peyton from the Hand that Rocks the Cradle), and best of all, the kids love her. She never tries to replace me or compete with me. She is great.

But, she spends more time with the twins than I do (at least during the week). I think she knows them a little better. I think she comforts them a little faster. Oh, it just saddens me.

Partly, I think it makes me sad because frankly, I couldn't be with them all day, every day. I'd go batty. I love them but it would probably be the death of me. The amount of respect that I have for SAHMs grows every weekend. How do they do it? How do they survive the whining, the day in and day out, the crying, the chaos, the mess? It is amazing. I really love the nanny. I really miss her on the weekend. I heart her. I'd invite her to be a sister wife if I was on Big Love and I had to choose between her and Nicki Grant. Wait, have I made it clear that I really like having her help???

Having said that, it partly makes me sad because I am missing stuff. The other day I asked J if he thought they knew I was their mother. Are they thinking: "Is this lady who shows up in the morning to dress us and then shows up at night for baths just a lady practicing to be a mom? An apprentice Mom. Not sure if the Trump would fire her." Do they want to fire me? It's not like I am not here but what happens is that the time I am around, Lulo (the eldest and more vocal of the three) demands Mama love. He isn't mean or jealous of them but he wants me and he wants his routine to stay the same and that makes sense to me.

I am lucky in a lot of ways. I can work from home sometimes and can see my kids mid-day or just sneak up to bury my nose in their fat rolls and tickle their feet. I work for myself so I can and do take them to doctor's appointments (so fun!) and other such things. And I can give myself some time off to hang out with them sometimes. Not everyone can do that. In a way, it is the best of both worlds.

But, yet, I sit here writing this wondering if they know that I am their Mama. Well, tonight, when I put them to bed, I reminded them...just in case they weren't sure. Good night little boys. I love you forever.

Perspective

2009-03-12T19:00:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning, at 4:45. Got out of bed, got dressed, came downstairs, filled up my cup of coffee, and sat to check my email before getting in the car and going to EB. A client who is SUCH a nice guy (and happens to be in the middle of a dispute with a slightly unreasonable person) sent me an e-mail telling me, among other things, that he starts chemo tomorrow.

Long sigh.

Sometimes, an e-mail like that gives you some perspective. It's not like I was all gung ho trademark guru with this dispute that he finds himself battling. However, I am his advocate. And as an advocate for a person, not "just" a client, I just want to say (and basically did say along with some solid legal advice) - trademarks in the grand scheme are not something to worry your head about while you are dealing with chemo. Trademarks, small potatoes. I think he knew that too. I hope he does. And I pray for him.

So, I go in my car. Thinking about my client. And not thinking about my knees because my knees weren't aching because my Daddy gave me Celebrex. Actually, I ached a little bit but nothing that I'd blog about. Then we did stretches, I took it easy with calisthenics, and then we ran. About a mile in my knees were just DONE. I longed for Estelle Getty, a comedic genius with impeccable timing, to drop a wheelchair on my head from heaven. But alas, there was no wheelchair. I limped back.

The good news is that I managed to chat with DI-Size0 on my spiritless jog. I like her. She is determined. She seemed serious at first and I thought maybe that was her EB Modus Operandi. But, I think she is a serious person. She was also knowledgeable and encouraged me to take tomorrow off. Actually, no, she suggested I take tomorrow off and then said, "what do you think?" And I said, "um, yeah, ok, sure." I guess she doesn't know that I too, am determined. But, I know she is right. Tendinitis needs rest. All I need are blown out knees while living in a house made of stairs.

Well, when we got back to base and we were all stretching and stuff...I said to the group, social butterfly that I am, we should have a group on Facebook for EB and we can all join and chat about how much pain we are in and how much chocolate we want to eat a la Fatso: "Did you ever suck the jelly out of a jelly doughnut and then fill it with chocolate swirl ice cream?"

Anyhow, I noticed this glimpse between DI-Size0 and the other DI. Is Facebook a no no between DIs and us measly boot campers. When is it not appropriate to have a Facebook relationship? I need to look into that.

I have never mentioned this other DI because he took Week 2 off. He is what appears to be a very nice guy. He, for example, helped me carry my bag the other day when I was falling apart. That's nice, right? Anyhow, let's call him DI-MC. MC for his initials because my throbbing knees are sapping the creative juices right out of me. MC could also stand for Mr. Crazy about DI-Size0. Huh? What?

Well, I had been noticing that DI-Size0 and DI-MC text an awful lot for 5:30 am. Who is up at that time? No one. Well, maybe some people but you'd think you wouldn't be texting the people who are productively up at 5:30. So, I get home and put their names in Facebook. (Oh, Facebook, you are like reading someone's diary except it's ok). And of course DI-MC's profile is public. AND HE IS "IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH DI-SIZE0!" Now, that, is who you text at 5:30 am.

Imagine these texts flying back and forth:
DI-Size0: Does Tina think that is a push up?
DI-MC: I hope not.
DI-Size0: Well, I hope she doesn't think that eating this way is going to help her lose weight.
DI-MC: I know, you could land a plane on her ass, right?
DI-Size0: It's early, huh?
DI-MC: Um, damn cold too.
DI-Size0: Well, we should start running soon.
DI-MC: Would you call what Tina does running?
DI-Size0: Well, no it's not running. But if we want to finish EB on time today we better get her on her way. We may still be here tonight if she doesn't start running now.
DI-MC: Good point.

Anyhow, I looked at their cute pictures on Facebook. And I was happy to see that DI-Size0 is indeed a Size 0 in normal clothes. I was also happy to see that both of them don't just run around in fatigues all day long. For some reason, after the "ew" factor went away, their "in a relationship" status made me feel like L-O-V-E was in the air. Weird. Oh, and now I even have a new friend on Facebook! Fun, fun.

Then, I looked lovingly at J and he said - "my Cousin C's wife is angry that you didn't invite them to the twins' birthday party". And, so, my loving gaze immediately became a grimace.

Wuh? Huh? Who? Which cousin? They are all named C. Why can't your people (Peruvians) choose DIFFERENT NAMES for their offspring. Anyhow, I apparently, have caused offense. Cousin C's wife wasn't here not even two months ago. Cousin C's kid was living in the same house with another cousin and their family.

And so, I sent ONE invitation to the house with various surnames on the envelope so everyone would feel included. I pretty much do the same thing every time I am crazy enough to throw a party. I DID INVITE COUSIN C's kid. BUT. Dear people. Cousin C's kid no longer lived there. Was I supposed to know this? Wuh, Huh? I need to learn Quechua or Spanish or whatever language I appear to be not proficient in because I guess I was supposed to know this somehow. These Peruvians have Inca blood. They move around too much. And I am moving to slow, and in this case, my knees having nothing to do with it. The funny thing (or funny to me) is that this C, Jr. is the sweetest kid. Well behaved. Quiet. Sweet. Eats well. This is a child I'd want influencing other children during this partay. And yet, I apparently have failed to invite him in a move that flies in the face of all etiquette.

Long Sigh. And, now, see...we are full circle. PERSPECTIVE PEOPLE. You have to be kidding me. Did I really need to have an upset J today because I supposedly didn't invite Cousin C's kid? Is there a smidgen of a possibility that maybe it wasn't intentional? Can't we just be happy we have this big, crazy, fun family with parties, and fun? Did DI-Size0 (who is so cute with DI-MC) really have to tell me the equivalent of "DON'T COME TOMORROW"? Shouldn't I know that? Hello, McFly? Sometimes you just need a little bit of a reality check, eh.

I just got an e-mail back from my client. He got my e-mail this morning. He thanked me for "putting things into perspective."

Um, no, thank you for putting things into perspective.

Old, Very Old

2009-03-11T08:43:00.000-07:00

Today, I reached way way deep down, embraced my inner geriatric, and gimped around EB. It was really cute. Now I know EXACTLY what I am going to look like when I am 70 and trying to hold off the slow hardening of my arteries that is arteriosclerosis.

Jumping rope was a joke of enormous proportions today. If I didn't want to cry so bad and I wasn't so damn mortified, I would have laughed. It looked like this: (1) Rope slowly lops over head, (2) Rope hits floor, (3) Right leg steps over rope, (4) Left Leg steps over rope, (5) A momentary wish for death, (6) Rope slowly lops over head. The dude next to me, M, I couldn't even see his rope because he was moving so fast. In fact, he channeled Mike Tyson pre-Robin Givens. Or, maybe I couldn't see his rope because it was so dark they needed to illuminate the Mongolian BBQ parking lot we were at with lanterns. This is not a joke, lanterns. It was that dark. If I was a criminal (lawyer joke here), I would totally commit crimes in this parking lot; it is THAT sketchy.

Anyhow, in summary, I channeled Bea Arthur Post-Golden Girls and I ain't proud of it.

The ice remains on my knees. My father (the doc), my husband, and Mookie all appear to be concerned about my need to push through this despite what is very likely the demise of my knees. Oh, patella, help me show them that a little bit of perseverance (Aleve, Celebrex, and Patron) is all that is necessary to get better!

I have the determination that only comes with someone trying to manage the rolls, loose skin, and huge ass that comes with having twins and eating without stop for a year. Seriously, what was I thinking? Did I think I was still 16 and playing basketball every day? Did I think I had my mother's metabolism? No, I do not. God gives gifts. My gift (other than 3 cute boys and a loving husband) is the metabolism of a sloth instead of the metabolism of my Size 6 Mom who eats cheese like it's going out of style. The other special genetic gift that was bestowed upon me is, of course, the abs of my father's half of the family. My abs are so, so sexy that even with dedicated exercise for the rest of my life I can only hope that my mid-section will resemble that of a pregnant Heidi Klum or perhaps a pre-Jenny Craig Kirstie Alley. Why did Shelley Long leave Cheers? For gems like Troop Beverly Hills...anyhow, I digress.

Moving on, I will continue to hope that tomorrow will be an improvement on today. Tomorrow, I believe we are running a long distance (as opposed to the graceful gazelle-like sprints that I did today). Wish me luck. Wish me strength. Wish me a nice old lady who lends me her wheelchair so I can cross the finish line.

From Outside

2009-03-10T12:42:00.000-07:00

I got there early to pick him up and watched through the one way window. The teacher was reading DUMBO. His back was to me. I could tell what he was saying just by the way his finger pointed at the pictures. He was engrossed and happy. Smiling, dancing. Interacting with other kids. The lump in my throat dissipated. My heart started to find its way back into my chest. I watched as he washed his hands, sat at the table with other kids, grab the celery from the family style lunch set up...

The teacher said that he is the only kid she's ever seen who would ONLY eat celery at lunch time.

He is good.
I am in recovery.
Hello, My Name is Tina and I am an Obsessed Mother.

Non-First Trimester Nausea

2009-03-10T10:27:00.000-07:00

My little Lulo is at his first day of preschool today. I kissed him goodbye, he cried, he yelled MOOOOOOMMMY. And, I walked away. There he was, crying, gripping his little plastic penguin he is so obsessed with. Oh, this SUCKS.

I want to yack.

I am sitting here with the biggest lump in my throat. I think I have left over Zofran (from that fun pregnancy with the twins) but I don't think you can take it unless you are undergoing chemo or are puking so much that you are losing weight and dehydrated. Also, I think that Zofran doesn't really help with completely psychosomatic nausea.

Last year on this same day, March 10th, I was in a hospital bed with two monitors hooked up to me - one for Baby A, one for Baby B. I had been there for a little over 50 days at that point. Lulo was with my Mom. Every couple days he'd come to visit and I would have to let him go. He wouldn't cry because he was leaving with my Mom and she rocks. She is pretty much the best Gama in the world. But, I would cry every time his little stroller would go away. I'd want to yack then too.

Oh little Mama's Boy. I hope you are OK right now. I hope that you aren't crying and I hope that some little girl strikes your fancy so that this transition is easier. Well, actually, no, because I am not ready for you to have a girlfriend. Anywho. I can't work right now because I have no clarity. I will work when Lulo comes back. Because unless I know he is fine, how can I concentrate?

J seems fine by the way. Like a normal day in the office for him. How is he so sane? Is he the only living heart donor? Are all men so sane and unemotional about this? Is everything just a moment that will just pass?

On a real pleasant note, this morning my alarm went off at 4:45 am. I got up for EB like I always do and I couldn't walk. My knees ached so bad that I could not walk. I sort of shuffled. I barely got to the bathroom and when I collapsed on the Porcelain King, my knees throbbed. No way. So, I laid in bed and watched the clock, felt the throbbing knees, and let the nausea creep up as I thought about what the day ahead held in store.

There is, however, good news. I am NOT in my first trimester and puking. I am NOT pregnant and puking. I am NOT in a hospital. And today, I can get in a car, pick up my boy from his first day of school, comfort him if he needs it, and then come home and see my beautiful twins.

All can be right in the world, with my boys in my arms and without any Zofran.

How to Ice Your Knees While Working...

2009-03-09T10:27:00.001-07:00

The ice packs wouldn't stay on my knees. Our crafty assistant recommended binder clips. Cute, huh?

Cry Baby

2009-03-09T08:24:00.001-07:00

My knees hurt so bad that my skin hurts and my legs hurt, my face hurts. Do you get the idea? You know what, they don't hurt so much as ache, really really ache to my core. This weekend when I laid me down to rest - they ached, as I nodded off - they ached. Do you get the idea? OK. Now. Yesterday, I loaded up on Advil (per my father's - a doctor - advice). Every six hours. They felt a little better when I woke up this morning but mid-workout today. I literally couldn't get back down ONTO my mat and then I couldn't get UP from my mat. I kid you not. I cried. Frustration, pain. How did this happen?

You know, I cry fairly easily when I watch Love Story, Steel Magnolias, Terms of Endearment, La Bamba (yes, I know he is going to die), a Hallmark commercial, Oprah, watching my kids grow up, cooking dinner without burning it. But, pain does not make me cry. I suck it up for the most part. Post c-section - I didn't cry. Even without Percocet. Tonsillectomy, nose job. No crying. Stubbing my toe...a little crying because that hurts. Today, I ached.

And DI-Size0. God bless her. She was really nice. Told me to get a sip of water and pull it together. She talked to me - checked out my knees. I wasn't sobbing, leaking more than anything, but I am definitely frustrated because I CAN DO WHAT THEY ARE TELLING US TO DO. I am physically capable to sprint, run, jog, squat, lunge BUT FOR MY KNEES! In fact, I got a little bit of a sprint on prior to my knees exploding. I don't get as winded as I first did. I could seriously be IMPROVING, but for, my knees. They ache to my core. Have I said that already?

Anyhow, ice, ant-inflammatories, patience. I have no patience. I want to lose the weight NOW (Cheesecake Factory Saturday night - did not help!). I want to lose weight because my knees will feel better. Yes, yes, I want to lose inches. YEAH! Inches. Inches, screw the inches. I want the pounds to FLY OFF! Because the WEIGHT is what is making my knees hurt and probably everything else hurt. I am being whiny. Sorry. Oh sigh! SIGH. SIGH!

This morning Sarah Jessica Parker was teaching the word SIGH on Sesame Street. Her sigh annoyed me. That's not a sigh. Lame. A chick who can fit into the clothes she fits into, is married to cutie Ferris Bueller, and is pulling in royalties from Sex in the City til she dies...DOES NOT NEED TO SIGH FOR NOTHING! Even as she pulls off Manolos from her aching feet at midnight after a night on the town with Ferris...she shouldn't sigh. Sorry, SJP, I like you mostly, but you know, not today with all your sighing. You are very talented just not at SIGHING!

Personally, if I was casting Sesame Street and I needed the perfect person to demonstrate sighing it would be someone like Mia Farrow, not SJP. Woody, a fairly irritating individual, bails and marries HER daugther Soon-Yi Frumpy. Raising 700 kids on her own, has she acted lately? Anyhow, I have to give Sesame Street props for their choice of David Beckham for PERSISTENCE. All is well. Moving on.

And, so now, with ice on my knees, I am just sort of hoping for an improvement here. I can't be crying like a sissy girl at EB. It is humiliating. Who am I? I probably would have understood if DI-Size0 said "honey, move your fat ass that ate cheesecake (and wine, a martini, Chinese food, etc. etc.) or I'll give you something to cry about." But she didn't. Thank you DI.

I will get through this. I will get through this. I will get through this.

Visualization: I fully intend to cry in six months, four sessions from now, as I watch the new boot campers catch their stride, do full push ups, lunge until their knees touch the ground, and complete their first six weeks. Now, that's something to cry about.

Mooooooooooooooo

2009-03-06T18:51:00.001-08:00

Today I received a brief from opposing counsel. The first sentence read as follows:

"...so the Petitioner's Motion to Compel is now mute as it has been complied with."

The last sentence reads:

"Respondent's Attorney just wanted his recollection on the record as this point is now mute."

Now, first off, I just want to say that I know that people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. I am CERTAIN I have made stupid stupid typos and grammatical errors. I fully admit to discomfort with cliches and where/were and their/there. I read things I write quite a few extra times to make sure I don't say something lame. And, if you are a lawyer and are reading this - you probably have made typos too. (If you are lawyer you will also note that, he responded to a motion to just say that he wanted his recollection on the record. Oh sigh.) Sometimes we read our motions 50x before we file them and we'll still miss something. That happens! But, I try real hard to make sure I don't make even one mistake. I do it for the impression it leaves to opposing counsel, I do it for my client who entrusts me, I do it as a courtesy to the English language.

But, my hunch, is that this guy is charging his client a few hundred dollars an hour to end his sentences with a preposition and use the word MUTE instead of MOOT! MOOT! MOOOOOOOOOOOOOT. The lawyer cow is speaking...MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT. Oh, such a pet peeve of mine. I also love people who say that is INacceptable or IRregardless. These are not words people.

You know, let me just say one more thing about this "moot" issue. Remember this dialogue:
Joey: ...it's a moo point...
Rachel: ...you mean a moot point....
Joey: no no, a moo point ... like a cows opinion, doesn't matter ... it's moo

I'm just sayin'. I suppose I am making a moot point, at the end of the day, I am not his client. But, it is so annoying to read. When people write something so flawed they should think of the bleeding, anal, OCD eyes that have to read it. They also should think that what they are is what they write. Moving on.

OK. I sort of did an EB "no no" today. I weighed myself. All this starving, all this exercise, the sore knees, the aching shoulder, the waking up at 4:45 a.m. Is it paying off? Brothers and sisters, I am sorry to say that it is not. I gained effing weight. GAINED. Gained. Yeah, not stayed the same, not lost. I GAINED. I'm angry and don't quite know where to place that anger. What I really want to do is share my pain with my friends Ben and Jerry. But alas, I cannot. If I gain while starving, imagine what a little bit of love from the tub of Cherry Garcia will do.

Irregardless, since I am apparently going to stay a COW, I am clearly making a moo point. My opinion doesn't matter. This is inacceptable. Time for me to be mute.

I Kill Dolphins

2009-03-05T19:03:00.000-08:00

Oh, the drama. Today at dinner we gave Lulo chicken nuggets and asparagus. Apparently, he just noticed that these nuggets were shaped like dolphins because all hell broke loose when I cut them into pieces. He wanted me to "fix" it. Magic powers, where are you? If I could have fixed the dolphin to stop the screaming, I would have.

For the next ten minutes, he cried about the loss of his beloved dolphins. Meanwhile, amidst the sobs, tears, and hysterics he completely devoured the dolphins.

I'm not the only dolphin killer.

Obstacle Course

2009-03-05T14:03:00.001-08:00

This morning at 5:30 a.m. I was greeted by an obstacle course. It didn't end after EB - I don't think it will ever end.

There were 8 EB Obstacle stations through which each member of the group rotated:

1. Jump Rope (my fave...in a lovely turn of fate we ran out of time and I didn't get to this one - little happy dance)

2. Lift large heavy bar over head while squatting

3. Squat with one foot resting (while leg shaking) on large box, then hop to the other side and squat the same way. While hopping, extend arms in air like grabbing a rebound. (Code for "Flail")

4. Push ups and such things while holding on to large circular rings dangling from the top of an SUV, mid-levitation

5. DI-GM wraps very large thick (5-6 inches or so) rubber band around waist and makes your run, sprint, run backwards, do defensive slides in one direction while he pulls you in the other. This was a highlight. I felt like an ox.

6. Stomach stuff (DIs called this "our break"). Staying in a hover while things burn = Not a break. Eating Ben & Jerry's while watching Big Love = Break.

7. Arm strengthening exercises with band

8. 8 cones with tennis balls on one end, 8 cones with tennis balls on the other end. Pick up tennis ball, run across, place on opposite facing cone until all cones on one end have tennis balls then do the same thing the other way. THIS PERSON WAS THE TIME KEEPER. So, if the person doing obstacle, let's call her "Tina", decides to collapse mid way then everyone at the other stations would have to keep going until she revived herself and continued on with the tennis balls until they were again located at their starting point. By luck of the draw, I did this one last. Ha. ha. ha.

Weirdly, I feel like this course sort of mirrored stuff that was going on. For example, the jump rope "obstacle" is my whole day. Jump around as quickly as I can without tripping up. Kids, work, J, pediatrician, dinner, kids, work, client, bath time, work, husband, work, kids. Jump. Jump. Jump. Trip - Forgot to put salt in rice. Trip - Drop kid. Oh sigh.

The 8 cone extravaganza was also analogous to "a day in the life". Run back and forth until I either collapse or survive. Meanwhile, other people wait and watch to see if I'll make it. Clients wait for their work product. Kids wait for me (to be their Mommy). J waits for me (to calm down mostly). All the while, I am hoping not to "drop a ball" because I don't have the patience, time, or stamina to fix the mess. Half the time I am surrounded by post it notes covered in lists so that the balls remain carefully balanced on the cones until I have time to grab them.

But today, #5 resonates with me the most. Oh, my eldest darling baby boy, Lulo, starts preschool next week. This week we have made "visits" to the classroom together. The first visit I was with him the whole time. He enjoyed himself thoroughly but skeptically. At today's visit, the teacher suggested that I let him go with her and see how he does. He shrieked, wailed, gasped, and sobbed - no matter what the distraction. I watched, sadly, painfully, from inside as he was on the playground with his teacher. I could hear him. I can still hear him. There I was trying to go one direction and my heart was being tugged so vigorously in the other. I get that this isn't Sophie's Choice. I get that parent's do this all the time. I get that this isn't a "big deal". But, Oh My Goodness, this is a killer.

How do people do this? Let go. Trust others. Believe friends when they say, "this is normal", "they all cry and then they get used to it". Oh sigh. I survived 15 minutes of his wails and rescued him. Yet, it is an obstacle I must survive so that we can all grow, learn, and become strong. I sort of prefer obstacle #6 to obstacle #5- in moderate pain but "resting" so I can just watch him a little longer, sit with him a little longer, play with him a little longer, rest with him a little longer - all the while, in moderate pain, because one day he'll have to go (home schoolin' ain't gonna happen ;)). Why do I have to run in the opposite direction if he is pulling me to him? Why oh why.

Starfish

2009-03-04T18:51:00.000-08:00

I am a sad sight to see today as I write this blog. There is a bag of frozen berries on my shoulder. An ice pack on my right knee (the one that I don't generally wear a brace on but I guess I should start). I have been medicating today and trying not to yelp in pain when I lift my kids. The shoulder is, of course, a result of dropping my Jujus. That is a deserved injury. But why o why the knees! I am trying to better myself. Trying to be less fat so my knees hurt less. And yet, they ache. And so, I ice.

Today we ran a little less than Forrest Gump did. DI-Size0 said it was 1.5 miles. In my head I thought, "1.5 miles + what...4 miles, 5 miles"? I forgive DI-Size0 for today's torture because in my mess log she wrote "Keep it up. You can do it!" Trite, but encouraging nonetheless. We then did lunges, and squats, and starfish, oh my.

What's a starfish? Well, for marine biologists, it would be the improper way of identifying a sea star. My college roommate (also my marine biology T.A.) would always correct me and say "sea star". She was very passionate about sea creatures. Anyhow, I digress. What is a "sea star" in EB Land? Well, it is when you squat ("back high, Tina, no bending over"...well, yes it feels like I am bending over if you know what I mean) and then from the squat position LEAP into the air with arms forming a "Y"MCA above your head and so you purportedly look like a starfish. I look like a dip shit.

This particular maneuver takes my lack of gracefulness to new levels. Anyhow, we did about 700 of those. They ain't easy. Frankly, I wanted to lay on the ground like sea urchin. "Excuse me, DI-Size0, would you mind if I demonstrate a sea urchin?" Yeah, that wouldn't fly.

The good news is that since I am so bad at doing these I am never able to look around to see how everyone else is faring. My inner hope is that they are so focused on their flailing that they don't notice that I am actually doing The Freddie. Sigh. My starfish prowess needs work.

We have also had a new DI substitute in this week. He is the general manager of the franchise where I participate in EB. Let's call him DI-GM. He is pretty intense but very knowledgeable and gave me good advice on taking care of my battle scars today. He also told me this morning that I shouldn't drink coffee before EB in the morning. Every. single. day., coffee is my 5 a.m. entry in my Mess Log: "Coffee, Splenda, Sugar Free Creamer". DI-GM doesn't realize that if I don't drink coffee in the morning I will literally embrace my inner sea urchin and lay on the floor imitating the gelatinous mass that most normal people are at 5 a.m. He is such a nice guy who cares about our health and betterment - but really, no coffee. REALLY! He says I will get cramps as the workouts get intense. Um, were the workouts not intense already? Did I miss something?

Dear Readers,

I embrace the cramps. If the workouts get more intense, I want my death to be one that follows a nice cup of coffee with Splenda and sugar free creamer.

Best Regards,

Tina

The ice is melting. The coffee pot timer is on for 4:45 a.m. Go ahead, try a starfish, you know you want to.

Drops

2009-03-02T19:12:00.000-08:00

What a great day today started out to be! A fab day. I survived EB. I ran and felt like I picked up the pace a bit - I lumbered to the finish line without feeling like a collapse was imminent. Good day. In the grand scheme, today still is a good day. Everyone is healthy (knocking on wood). Work is plentiful. However, as the day wore on my elation (and apparently "runner's high") seemed to take a few significant drops.

I cheerily left EB today and got a little mixed up on how to get home - after all it was still 6:30 a.m. in my brain. I am generally directionally challenged - in the wee hours when I can't wake up J, I am really really challenged. When I finally realized my way by noting some landmarks, my cheer apparently went straight to my foot and before I hit 52 mph, I saw the flashing lights. This is my second speeding ticket in 6 months. Traffic school is not an option. Drop 1.

Then, I dropped my kid. Yep, you read it right. I literally DROPPED MY KID. I was holding Juju, all 28 pounds of love, cheer, and soft rolls. I was going to put him in his Bumbo. Ah, the life saving baby sitting (literally, and figuratively) powers of the Bumbo. And I stepped on one of his toys. Not just any toy. One with fuschia plastic spikes. It is supposed to light up but only lit up for one day and never lit up again (piece of s**t). Anyhow, as it impaled my heel, I gained my balance for a moment only to step on another toy. At this point, I was not savable. I was trying to save my kid. I pretty much almost dislocated my shoulder trying to save him and then, I couldn't. I fell. He fell and hit his head on my other babysitter. And then, the crying began. Mine and his. I dropped my kid. This moment comprised the biggest drop of the day...literally, and figuratively.

I soothed him. I could not, however, soothe me. Ah, grace is not my strength.

Other things happened today: (1) my order for "healthmex" chicken tacos was enveloped by gnarly corn tortillas which make me gag (I said FLOUR people!); (2) I nailed my ankle on the corner of my desk; and (3) a prospective client called who wanted a contingency (free) attorney and ate up more time than I'd like to admit. These things are sort of stupid and pale in comparison to the fact that I dropped my kid.

At the end of the day, like most families, we have the nightly ritual consisting of bath, bottle (for the lil ones), books (for the big one), and bed. This time is hectic but I love it because it is the time of the day where I really have the time and presence of mind to look at my boys and take them all in and eat up their adorable yumminess and funniness. I love bath time. Today, my dropped child, Mr. Jujo. Mr. Mellow with his rolls galore, double chins, drool, fat feet, one tooth, long hair...he gazed up at me with his wonderful smile. His little chunky leg was draped outside of the blue plastic bathtub and he just stared and smiled. He was happy to be hanging out, as was I.

It's just so great - I just dropped this poor kid. But he wasn't holding a grudge...he just was loving life, loving me. No consequence for my clumsiness, for dropping the ball. I wish that the cop just looked at me and said, "hey you dropped the ball but hey, here's another chance do it right". Sparkly smile, tip of hat, gone.

But, at the end of the day, the real drop was forgiven. Wrongs are not often without consequence. I do have my ticket and fine, after all. I am glad that I could have a drop today without consequence. It was beyond not having a consequence - I had a reward. I still have that little bundle of love and adoring squishiness smiling at me, chuckling with me. It could have been a lot worse. But I am so thankful it wasn't. In the grand scheme, the drops today did not matter. Maybe, it was not such a bad day after all.

Just One Bite

2009-02-27T18:59:00.001-08:00

I am starving. I am not on a diet per se but I am really trying to eat better per my EB Survival Guide. It also seems wasteful to kill myself every morning and then come home and eat like a cow. So, I am taking it easy. I am being much better than I used to be. And, like all "diets" require, I am writing down all I ingest. Anyhow, I have been pretty good this week. I ate none of the junk that I have been downing in the recent past - no cookies, no candy, no chocolate, no ice cream, no Nutella (oh, I love me some Nutella), no waffles, no cinnamon rolls, no pancakes, no mayo, very little cheese. No "junk".

The comment today made by my Size 0 Drill Instructor in my sanctioned EB mess log in RED: "Be careful with so much sugar/carbs late in the day." Oh, such discouraging words. These "sugar/carbs" were, get this, 2 of those baby, red potatoes, roasted with garlic (and there was so much left over that I painfully resisted!) that I had with a nice piece of chicken breast (baked) and I had some of Lulo's left over smoothie for an after dinner snack (mango, banana, yogurt, 2% milk, honey). Bring the heifmobile over. That ain't sugar and carbs, honey. Last week, J and I would clear a pint of Cherry Garcia and I would wash that down with some Hershey's Kisses. Oh the irony, oh the suffering. Oh, why did she have to write it in red.

Anyhow, for lunch while everyone ate their burgers from Islands. I ate veggie tacos. They were delicious but I could have had 12 more of them. And then, I couldn't stand it...I took one bite of J's burger. One bite. Oh the deliciousness. Oh, and I didn't put the bite in the effing mess log. What would I write: "1 bite burger to prevent a certain untimely death"?

I am weak. But you know, sometimes you just need one bite. I think that little indulgences along the way make life more tolerable.

You want to redecorate and basically throw away all hand me downs in your house and buy all new furniture. Little Indulgence: Throw pillows and glass of wine. A glass of wine makes it look like a room from the Pottery Barn catalog.

You want strangle your husband for pushing the trash down in the trash can so it appears empty long enough for him to leave the room. Little Indulgence: Watch Mr. Darcy in Pride & Prejudice as he tells Elizabeth Bennett he loves her: "you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on." (Note: The little indulgence was not to strangle spouse for a short while.)

You want to call it a day at work at 10:30 am. Little Indulgence: Facebook, 1/2 hour.

Bottom line. I am thinking we all have these little struggles ranging from starvation to lack of motivation to matrimonial assault tendencies but if we just have one bite, it may be a little better, more tolerable, more doable. Take a bite today. You'll still be hungry, but you may feel better about it. I certainly do.

Chomp.