My Life In Pictures



I need to buy me a hat like this, because I'm a widow now. An iphone widow.



David just got himself one of these. It's his other wife.



On the last day of school, they should hand out this t-shirt to every single mom. As in, "Here are your children and here is your t-shirt proclaiming that your house is a disaster." Summer vacation--though it is glorious--is always a home wrecker.


I need to be lacing up the running shoes and start running again. But all I want to do is eat more ice cream with hot fudge sauce.


But then I dream of London and how I will be there in less than 2 years and how amazing it would be to go running in London. So I may as well get started now. I am seriously dreaming of this map of the Underground. King's Cross, here I come.

Oh, and there's the little issue having just 2 years to get my hair as long as this. I want that ponytail!

I know these pictures look like a family hike, but let's be real. This was strictly a "wear those freaking kids out so they'll sleep tonight" hike. I think it worked.

All In A Day
Yesterday was the last day of school. It was (finally) warm and sunny. It has been such a long, cold, wet spring that the end of school just snuck up on us. It sure didn't feel like summer vacation was right around the corner. But yesterday was perfect. 80 degrees and sunny. Zinabu's kindergarten class spent most of the day outside goofing off. Here he is in a water balloon toss. He took it way too seriously and got mad when his partner dropped the balloons. Somebody needs to get that kid to chill out.

And here are some of his classmates getting doused with a watering can from their teacher. Zinabu is right in the middle. You can see the back of his head.

Below is Mrs. Watson. She has been the kindergarten teacher to all 3 of my kids and she... is... awesome. I was helping in her class when Lily was in Kindergarten when I got "the call" about Zinabu. She was there the first day Z came home, bringing us dinner. She is our friend in and out of the class, and she's amazing. Zinabu could barely hold a pencil the first day of school, and now he's writing paragraphs. We love Mrs. Watson, and I cried a good long time yesterday knowing our time with her was over.

And below is Mr. Watson. He is the 1st grade teacher. And yes, he and Mrs. Watson are married. The Watsons love all our kids and have inspired them and cared for them in and out of the classroom. Mr. Watson has a Harley, and he told Carver that if he kept a good attitude and always worked his hardest, he could earn motorcycle rides. Carver needed that challenge, and we were so happy to have another role model in Carver's life that could inspire him to keep doing his best, even when it's hard. Carver earned a motorcycle ride yesterday after school. I could write a good long time about my opinions on high achieving schools with good test scores and psycho parents and average schools with average test scores and laid back families. I'll spare you my dissertation. Our school is average. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Last night we went back to school for 5th grade "graduation." I have known a lot of these kids since kindergarten, and it was a bit emotional. We were so proud of Carver. He won the music award, which is so fitting for him. He will be in orchestra in middle school (and high school), and music is what will save him from feeling discouraged when school becomes hard. Love, love, love Mrs. Lopez, his music teacher. Love her for seeing this potential in him.

We went out to dinner after the ceremony. Here I am with my now middle-schooler. I swear he was just a baby. I can hardly believe this.

Me and my darlings. (Zinabu was too busy eating a hamburger to be in the photo.) I'm trying my hardest to keep them young, but they grow despite my best efforts. My heart is so full.

So busy I can hardly see straight. So behind on blogging and keeping up with the day to day. But I'd love to share Sarah's and Tesi's great news with you. Amazing!

What do you get when your 6 year old Ethiopian is listening to The Macarena and can't hear himself sing? The following:

I know you're jealous of how I get to spend my day, but I'm so sorry. Not everyone can have a fun-filled life like mine.

The first half of my day includes standing in the snow (yes, it is snowing here) for my third track day of the week. Hip hip hooray. Frostbite on toes and blue lips. It's heavenly.

The second half of my day will be at traffic court for a speeding ticket. I can't even eat I'm so nervous. I got caught speeding in a construction zone (didn't know I was speeding... seriously!) and I have to stand before a judge and (I assume) get yelled at for being a horrible menace to society. I know you're just drooling over my agenda, but really folks. Only someone like me gets to have so much joy in one day.

A Mother's Day Note From Zinabu

Dear Mom,

My mom is the best because she helps me get to school by driving me to school in a gray van. She buys me food like apples, grapes, juice, chips, bread, bagels, english muffins, pretzels, peanuts, raisins, bananas, blackberries, raspberries, blueberries, corn, and carrots. You take care of me when I'm sick. She gives me medicine. That's why my mom is the best mom in the world. Love, Zinabu.

That is word for word what he wrote to me. I fixed some spelling errors, but those are his words. The way to his heart is transportation, food, and medicine. Easy enough.

*thanks, casey.

Things you should know about today:

• Today is World AIDS Orphan day. Did you just happen to be born in an affluent country with at least one healthy parent? Then consider yourself lucky. There are over 20 million AIDS orphans. You can go here or here to help. And that's just scratching the surface.


• Today is Miss Lucy's 5th birthday. I can hardly believe it.


• Today my kids have no school. Teacher work day. It's going to be cold and cloudy. We had planned to pack a picnic and go to a playground, but I don't think that's going to happen. Does eating at Taco Bell count as a picnic?


• We miss David. Haven't seen him all week. I think he'll make an appearance tonight. I'm about ready to offer a reward for his return.

Hope your Friday is great!

Boring Post

I have no new pictures.
Nothing to tell you.
Nothing exciting happening.

We're just busy, busy, busy. The end of a school year is actually the worst time of year--especially if you're married to someone who works at a school. David's typical day this week is leave the house at 6 am and get home at 10:30 pm. It...is...crazy.

The kids have some sort of field trip, track meet, award ceremony, orchestra concert, assembly, test, or other such nonsense every single day. I'm not exactly fond of it, but there's certainly a lot going on.

School gets out in 2.5 weeks. I'm getting excited.

The birds started chirping at 4:30 this morning. I have never, ever, ever wanted a gun before, but in my sleep deprived stupor, I was tempted.

Prom Night

This has certainly been an interesting weekend: Lily's birthday party (let us not speak of it) and Lily's birthday. And last night was prom for David's high school. I have always gotten out of going with him, but I hardly saw the man this week and I figured some time with him at a high school dance was better than no time with him at all. So after getting the kids ready for bed, I met him at the hotel where the prom was being held.

Wow. I had forgotten all the insecurities and angst and hormones of high school. And the fact that the girls all look 25 and the boys look 12. And how totally unfair that most high school girls have bigger boobs than me.

David is an incredible administrator. He doesn't hang out in the lobby, barking at kids or acting disinterested. We spent the entire night in the ballroom, next to the dance floor. He mingled with the students and chatted with them. They love him.

Prom night will be a part of my life for the next several years: as long as David will be principal. I might have to invest in a fancy dress. My favorite highlights:

• I knew a third of the music. Seriously impressed with myself.
• Getting our picture taken with the photographer. David made me laugh so hard I about wet my pants. I'll be sure to post the picture when we get it.
• The energy frenzy. Those kids danced non-stop for almost 4 hours.
• Watching all the white boys try to dance to rap.
• The girl with Down Syndrome who was there with her date and lit up when she spoke to us.
• The relief that I am not in high school anymore. Seriously. I enjoyed high school, but the drama... Thanks but no thanks.

Next year I will remember my camera.

After school today we are having Lily's birthday party.
She wanted to invite everyone in her class. All 26 of them.
I figured at least 10 of them would not be able to come.
I figured wrong.
And now I am pretty much screwed.

* David and Zinabu in Ethiopia, April 2007

I was not there your first three and a half years of life.

I don't know when you were born.
I don't know when you first smiled.

I don't know if you are a surviving fraternal twin or an identical twin.

I don't know what your first word was.

I don't know when you walked.

I don't know what your favorite lullaby was.
I don't know what your first bath was like.

Your first wish.

Your first laugh.

Your first joke.

Your first taste of food you didn't like.

Your first taste of food you loved.

Your first jump.
Your first game.

Your favorite color.

Your first owie.

Your first bad dream.

Or your second. Or your third. Or your fourth.

But I do now. Happy 3 year anniversary, my darling.

Friends

Yesterday I drove up to Denver to visit Deirdre and Bridget. Deirdre and I had met before, but it was the first time I was able to meet Bridget. Deirdre is freshly moved into her new house in just about the greatest neighborhood in Denver. They are sneezing distance from city zoo, museum of natural history, and fantastic parks. You almost want to stab her with a fork, but she and Greg are just too darn likable and cool that you can't help but be happy for them. She opended her home up to me and Lily and Z, and Bridget came with her daughter/fairy Elia. Elia is darling. I don't think I can convey to you enough how special the adoption community is to me. They're family. International adoption is like running a marathon, every single day, for months--sometimes years. How can you not bond with the other families that are enduring the same thing? Not to mention we speak the same language: home study, social worker, dossier, referral, wait time, travel date, Homeland Security, fingerprints, application fees, court date, travel visa, post placement reports, and on and on. There is something comforting about speaking that language with others who know exactly what you are saying.

Deirdre made food and I ate. The kids played so well together. Zinabu and Sidamo actually spent the entire time on the floor playing checkers and chess. They were like two old men at a park. Hysterical! They were so serious, so involved, and so determined to outsmart the other with their strategy. Nora and Elia passed through and made sure they had our attention. And Lily... well, Lily spent all her time with Deirdre's dog, Saffron. It was hard to tear her away at the end of the morning.

You can find Deirdre's muffin recipe here. I ate a lot. I won't give you an actual number, but it was not pretty.

After we left and started our journey back home, here is what my kids said.

Lily: "I love the name Deirdre. It's so pretty. I am going to name my next dog Deirdre."

Zinabu: "Mom, you'd be proud of me. I didn't say anything I wasn't supposed to say. Even though I wanted to say it."

Such a good day.

Here we are, just two gals in a minivan... off to see the ear, nose, and throat doctor. The errands I run these days. They're thrilling! Lily was pretty pleased to see Gummy Worms were just 39 cents at Walgreens. When we left for the doctor, it was raining and slushy. As we got closer to the doctor's office, the slush turned to snow. While we were in with the doctor, the snow turned into a blizzard. We had a hard time driving home, but Lily entertained me with tales of Drew at school.

Drew is a boy. Drew is in her 3rd grade class. I think Drew likes Lily. Drew wrote Lily a note. He told her "your skin is a beautiful brown like a Hershey Kiss."

He luvvvvvvvs her. Lily, the private, shy, and over-emotional girl that she is, was not impressed. She cried.

Oh, the drama.

After a tremendous co-pay to the ear, nose, and throat specialist, we were told that Lily has nosebleeds. Duh! He gave us some treatment options, the homeopathic ones being best. He also told us she has a significant deviated septum and surgery is a likelihood when she's a teenager. Oh glory.

The kids didn't have school today (teacher work day) so the weather is nothing but a chance to be lazy. Right now Carver and I are snuggled up watching a movie, Zinabu is playing with his action figures and yelling things like, "Shazam!" and "Chopper!" and "Kryptonite!" and Lily is playing with the dog.

Happy Friday.

I'm having a hard time blogging because I'm having a hard time seeing... and breathing... thanks to spring allergies. This is a new thorn in my side. Spring used to be a pleasant time. Right now I look like I have pink-eye and a serious sinus issue. Good thing David pledged to love me no matter what. He left this morning while I was still in my crazy pajamas (a Harry Potter t-shirt and too small sweat pants) and blowing my nose in between 100 sneezes. I wanted to call out, "Wait! I can be pretty. Just give me an hour!" But he had to leave for work. (Note to self: try to look pretty when he gets home tonight.)

Ina Garten's ears must be buzzing because I've been cooking every single meal from her recipes. I have avoided the scale, especially after last night's lemon cake, but the food is good therapy for my itchy eyes. So far the sauteed zucchini and Indonesian chicken have been my favorites.

I am struggling through another editing project. It is painfully boring but it will help pad the vacation fund. Big plans there. BIG plans. Fortunately one of the cable channels has been airing Sense and Sensibility every day, so I keep that on in the background and cheer for Colonel Brandon and boo at Mr. Willoughby. The lines I've memorized keep me alert, especially when I use my British accent. A little Austen makes the time go by.

So our big travel plans, while years away, are to visit London. Though that involves a lengthy plane trip, I can NOT wait. David and I will celebrate our 15th wedding anniversary next year, and two years from now we have "big" birthdays. What better way to celebrate than to hop across the pond. So for now, more boring work projects to fund the trip.

My other goal? Grow my hair out one more time and wear it in a ponytail as I ride the Underground. Think I'll be able to do it?

Checklist for Monday

Disrupted sleep because of allergies (me and the kids): check
Mediocre lunches packed: check
Watched dog stare and growl at a blank wall (is something living back there???): check
Wore pajama top under my sweatshirt while driving kids to school: check
Wore pajama top under my sweatshirt IN school because Z wanted me to stay: check
Washed a load of laundry and forgot to add detergent: check
Put off massive work project: check
Pretend that I have a lunch date with Mr. Darcy: check
Continue living in la-la land: check

Assume The Position


Saturday mornings are sacred around here. We try not to participate in any activity that requires us to be somewhere before 10:00 am. Actually, we try to not participate in any activity that requires us to be anywhere on a Saturday, but sometimes that cannot be avoided. Saturdays are the one day of the week we are all together and can just chill. No worries. No stress. No expectations. I love it.


It's also the one day the kids can plop down in front of the TV without permission. I expect it of them. I expect them to zone out and just relax. I expect them to be mindlessly entertained while I drink coffee and read the paper.


No one takes this more seriously than Zinabu. (see above photo for evidence)

Zinabu
There just aren't enough hours in the day to appreciate all of Zinabu. I have stories of this kid that would knock your socks off. He is goofy and wild, but combine that with his smart-as-a-whip brain and you've got a wicked cocktail of crazy.

This is what he was doing this morning. Reading the grocery circulars. He saw that chicken was on sale and was hopping up and down in excitement.


Zinabu is going to enjoy his play date with Sidamo next week. They can browse the grocery circulars together.

The other night my mom put Zinabu to bed (love living with my mom!) and he was a little sad so she began singing to him. Sweet lullabies and gentle words. He interrupted her and asked, "Do you know any songs about the Grinch?"

Oh-keeeee.

And in keeping with "Strange But True Medical Mysteries" that my children continue to experience, I was helping Z brush his teeth a few weeks ago and screamed when I saw that his permanent bottom teeth are growing in behind his baby teeth. He has teeth in rows. Like a shark. He is shark boy.


Which means many more hours in the orthodontist's office, as well as a huge part or our take-home pay. It's hard to tell in the photo, but those new teeth are a good half inch behind his baby teeth, which are still in his mouth and are not budging. We talk in whispers about "the dentist pulling his teeth" when we think Z can't hear us.

It sound bizarre, but given all the crazy medical drama my kids have, I would welcome someone just falling out of a tree and breaking their arm. Sounds delightful. But no. Next week I am taking Lily to the Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist because she has severe bloody noses, up to 5 times a day. She is a walking Red Cross donation center. She's already had surgery once to cauterize her nose. Perhaps a second procedure is on the horizon?

Oh goody.

Rest

I don't know if "delishiest" is a word, but it sure suits my day. Making strawberry shortcake with Lily and reading mindless fiction on the sunny back porch. Gah. This warm weather is spoiling me. It's so fantastic. Yesterday I was a little aggressive and did yard work--all day--and by last night I was a walking zombie. The kids pitched in, then would disappear and make forts or play games, and reappear in need of food and water. One thing I love about my mom's house is that the yard work is not nearly as hard as our old house. So working my tail off for one day was hardly a sacrifice. It felt good. My only job left is to build a garden box with lumber and fill it with black dirt. And since I'm not attempting seedlings this year, I don't have to worry about that for another month.

After church, all I *had* to do today was go to the grocery store. Lily and I stumbled upon vats of strawberries and we cooked up (ha, ha!) a scheme to make strawberry shortcake from scratch. I then spent the rest of the afternoon listening to my kids playing in the trees while I read drivel outside. It... was... heavenly.

Tomorrow I will post a picture of Zinabu, our shark boy. (There's a story there.)

We are rockin' the nice weather. It snowed yesterday (yes, you read that right), but today and the next week are slated to be bee-you-ti-ful. We're taking no prisoners. We will leave no stone unturned. No bug unprodded. No puddles unslplashed. No bikes unridden, skateboards unollied, sidewalks unchalked.

You get the picture.

Hard to believe but summer is right around the corner. Time to start figuring out how scheduled we should be so the kids don't kill each other we want to be to have a happy, fulfilling summer.

David and I were idiots last night. We had to run a super fast errand and came right back home and then I realized we didn't even stop to get ice cream. What married couple with kids gets a chance to leave the house at night for a boring errand but doesn't take advantage of the moment and get ice cream??? Us, apparently.

And in a hilarious "Recently Overheard" report, I heard this from the neighbor boy in a conversation with David.

David: "Hi Nick! How are you?""
Nick: "Are you the dad or the grandpa?"

Snort.

What Happens When Someone Yells At You

Every day I take Buddy to a nearby field to play fetch. It's at the bottom of our neighborhood. In theory you could walk there, but since in theory I have as much time on my hands as a shoe elf I pop the dog in the car, zip down there, park, throw the ball, and come home. It's a nice little system. (By the way, I highly recommend getting a lab. They love playing fetch so much it takes just a few minutes a day to wear them out and make them head over heels in love with you.)

So anywhoooo, I drive down to the field today, park by the curb, and proceed to exercise the dog. Five minutes later the grumpiest man of the universe (I know this because he was actually wearing a hat that read "Grumpiest Man of the Universe." Ok, he wasn't but he should have been.) pulls up, gets out of the car, and hustles over to confront me. I have just picked up Buddy's digested breakfast, so you can just picture me holding a bag of dog poo as this man is huffing his way over to me just as fast as he can move. He hollers (yes, hollers!) "IS THAT YOUR CAR????" Well, since there is no one but me around for a mile it's quite obvious that it's my car but maybe he's trying to set me up. I tell him it is. And he hollers some more. "YOU CAN'T PARK THERE. THIS IS A PRIVATE STREET. A PRIVATE STREET. DO YOU HEAR ME? A PRIVATE STREET!!!!"

Clearly, it is a private street. So I tell him that I just live up the road but he cuts me off and hollers "IT'S A PRIVATE STREET! NO PARKING!!! PRIVATE STREET!" He stalks away and takes his time easing himself into his car, buckling his seat belt, and glaring at me one more time. I, on the other hand, burst into tears. I would suck at any kind of career that involved raised voices or confrontation. (Oh wait. Isn't that motherhood?) People yelling at me always makes me cry and makes me feel about 2 inches tall.

I went home and allowed myself the delicious time to plan revenge. To plot nasty get-back-at-the-grumpy-man tricks. David even told me to call the city and make the man pay to post a No Parking sign on his street since there isn't one there right now.

And then I moved on.

Happy Easter!

Lookin' Good

This Day...
is pretty important. Just look what's on my calendar.

We've been married 14 years. Is 14 years supposed to feel like a milestone? It doesn't--because being married to David is not something you measure in challenges or hardship or perseverance. As Shakespeare wrote, "A woman would run through fire and water for such a kind heart." His heart is so kind. 14 years doesn't even scratch the surface.

Things I Learned On My Vacation

Family time is fabulous. Being together 24/7 really is a treat. No responsibilities for David. No chores for me. No school for the kids. Just together. Loved it.

Family time sometimes brings out the worst in us. There was one time at the Peter Pan ride when I questioned our sanity. There was another time one of our kids was in such a funk they threatened to run away. I wish I could tell you that announcement devastated me. It didn't. (I think it's important that you know our family is not perfect, we are not all cute photos and smiles. We screw up. We bug each other. But we're in it together, whether we like it or not.)

I cherished every single moment I had with Carver. I don't know if we'll ever do a Disney trip again, but if we do, he'll be older and won't want to spend the entire day with us. He'll probably run off by himself and meet up with us at different times during the day. I know that time is coming, so I savored each and every minute we were together. There was one day he held my hand. Quite possibly for the last time. When else will we be somewhere--at his age--where he will feel comfortable enough to reach up and hold my hand?

I was relieved Carver was still 11 and not 15 or 18. Why? Boobs. Boobs everywhere. Spring break and teenage girls = boobs. Plus add in all the older women who were still trying to dress like they're 18. Yeesh. A note to other mothers of girls: make your daughters dress discreetly. It did NOT help that toward the end of the week there was a National Cheerleading Competition in Anaheim and there were mobs of ditsy girls with (you guessed it) boobs. I can't speak for David, but I've seen enough boobs to last a lifetime.

My kids must have gills. They swam every day. For hours. They swam even when it was late at night and they were exhausted. They couldn't resist it. And David and I couldn't help but give in.

Flying home was a little easier than flying out to CA. I bet if I flew once a week I wouldn't mind flying at all. It's the years in between each flight that do me in. And I don't mind take-offs or landings. I hate turbulence. Hate them. White-knuckle all the way. We returned home late, late, late on Saturday, and all day on Sunday I felt like I had a horrible hangover... which given all the drugs I took I pretty much did have a hangover.

I forget that we get stared at. A lot. I forget that our family looks different to others. I'm used to getting second looks and getting noticed when we go out as a family, but at a place like Disneyland we turn heads all day long. We also get the "pity" look. The "oh, they couldn't have any children of their own so they had to adopt" look. Or the "oh, how sweet... they adopted a bunch of black children." Their assumptions are wrong, but when you're fighting the crowds to ride Buzz Lightyear for the 8 millionth time you don't have time to explain your family or even glare back in a "leave us alone" look.

We are not the only family that looks like us. I saw at least 6 other families that were carbon copies of ours. Seeing that melted my heart. Absolutely melted my heart.

(*Because Blogger is out to make my life miserable, it is not letting me upload photos right now. You're secretely relieved that you don't have to look at any more of our vacation pictures, aren't you?)

Today we went to the beach and saw dolphins. (That might just be the best sentence I've ever written.)

Having A Ball

*David earns his worth by sitting with the kids in the Shamu "splash zone."

Before A Trip


This is me as I'm packing for a trip in which flying on a plane is a necessity:
"Did I pack my pills? Underwear, toothbrush. Did I pack my pills? Shorts, lotion. Did I pack my pills? Pills? Pills?

And of course I did, but I become obsessive-compulsive about it. So my children may or may not have anything to wear, but by golly I'll have my pills.

I didn't used to be this way. Help me feel better about my weakness. Please share your phobias!

Here's How It All Went Down


*zinabu is, as usual, talking in this photo.

It took them long enough, but in the end they chose David to be the principal. He went through an unbelievable amount of interviews. Hours and hours worth. With the students. With the parents. With the staff. With the executives of the district. With human resources. With the superintendent. It almost makes your head hurt. The school district we live in was actually hiring principals for two different high schools, but David applied only for the school he currently works at. He didn't want to be a principal. He wanted to be a principal at the school he loves and is already invested in. So when he finished his final interview with the superintendent and associate superintendent (last Wednesday), they told him they'd have a decision made by Friday (8 days ago). Thursday came and went. Friday came and went. The weekend came and went. We were frantic because we assumed the worst: they offered the job to another candidate and would give David the bad news when it was all final. Monday came and went. Tuesday... and we were having heart palpitations and were becoming increasingly angry. Did they not know what they were putting our family through? Didn't they know we were in a giant information void. And then the word got out that the superintendent didn't like any of the candidates that had applied for the other high school and they were going to re post that position and start all over. David freaked. Was the same true for his school? And then, finally, he got a phone call. Could he meet with the superintendent one more time? We truly and honestly believed that the superintendent was going to tell him to apply for the other school. We assumed that David would get a pat on the back and "be encouraged" to keep trying. So David went into that meeting hoping for the best but expecting the worst. The superintendent asked David a few more questions, and then told David that he knew all along he wanted to offer him the job of principal at his school. The job was his. David was the best candidate. David was phenomenal. He was utterly impressed and confident in David. It just took longer to let David know because of all the work they were doing with the position at the other high school.

It was a great day!

Although we would have loved to have known all this last week, we're thrilled that the decision has been made, the school board voted and approved David last night, and it is now public knowledge. Thanks so much, everyone, for your comments, emails, thoughts, and prayers. Not knowing our future was rough. Not knowing if David would suffer a blowing disappointment was rougher. And the thought of the person I love most in this world not getting what he so desperately wanted and was made for was hard to even fathom.

Just to add some drama to our otherwise boring week (ha!) Zinabu came down with a wicked stomach flu yesterday. The second time in two weeks. It was bad. My poor, poor baby. All I can do is hope that it was an isolated case and no one else comes down with it before we leave for California in 48 hours. Also, there is a huge blizzard coming, and we're trying to decide if we get to a hotel by the airport the night before our flight--just in case.

We lead such quiet lives.

Because the job David applied for is a public position, I can give you all the glorious details on Thursday. After it is made public.

Nothing

If I knew anything, I would have told you by now. David is being much more of a grown-up about this than moi. And I think I know who invented the flame-thrower. A woman whose husband was waiting for a call about a job. Surely she used it to burn down the office of the lazy bum who should have called her husband after 5 days.

Still waiting...

Neither one of us slept last night.

The longer it takes the more likely the news is not good.

We're going crazy.

How cute is this picture? Lily had just turned 4. She looks so tiny! This was our trip to Disneyland 4 years ago. And we drove. Do you know there is nothing (and I am not exaggerating) between where we live and Los Angeles? We drove through 2 days of desert. We've been saving a long time for this next trip so that we could fly, and Zinabu is fairly happy that he finally gets to go to California, see the Pacific Ocean, run in the sand, go to Disneyland, etc. You know me and flying, right? I won't bore you with my phobias, but rest assured I am stocked up on drugs so that I can get on the plane in 8 days. I told the kids, "Flying makes me sleepy so I may not be able to talk much on the plane." That's just a nice way of saying, "Mommy will be flying high in more ways than you can imagine."

We expect to hear something about David's job today or tomorrow. We will both be happy when this is over. The interview process has been grueling. He's exhausted from the process, and I'm exhausted from everything. Thanks for all your sweet support. I'll post as soon as I know something.

As of Today:

David has his FINAL interview.

10 more days till we leave for California.

I am excruciatingly tired of winter.

Zinabu is growing teeth like a shark. His permanent teeth are growing in behind his baby teeth. Baby teeth are not falling out and this just means more gigantic orthodontist bills for David and me.

I need to do our taxes but will probably put it off another week.

I need to start running again. I am woefully out of shape.

How about you?

Letters of Recommendation

Our world (or should I say, David's world) has been a whirlwind of resumes, letters of recommendation, and interviews. The principal of his school is retiring and he is applying for the position. Not that I'm biased at all, but I think he'd be perfect for the job. A great leader, super intelligent, loves teenagers, and solid believer in public education. He has made it to the final round of interviews and will meet with the superintendent sometime this week. We'd love to hear one way or another if he got the job by the end of this week, but that may be wishful thinking on our part. It could take another week before a decision is made. And if he doesn't get the job, I can tell you with all honesty that he will be content as the Assistant Principal and will still love what he does.

But those letters of recommendation... David deserves every one of them and I am so proud of him. But let me just say that if you're in a career or applying for a job and you get the chance to gather letters where people go on and on about how great you are, consider yourself blessed. There's nothing like that for parenting. In fact, most of the feedback I get is in the way of whining when I say "No" or tears when I tell them we won't buy a giraffe. Parenting does not come with accolades, pats on the back, praise, or recognition. People do not sit down and write letters about your skills, your management, your successes, and your triumphs. Most days parents are lucky to feel like they're on the ball, let alone hear about it.

But all that changed last night. Did you see? Did you watch her? Sandra Bullock won best actress for The Blind Side. And who did she dedicate her Oscar to? "...The moms that take care of the babies and the children no matter where they come from. Those moms and parents never get thanked."

Well. I can't ask for more than that. I love her.

If I didn't own a camera, I sometimes wouldn't believe it myself.

A note Lily wrote to Zinabu. Apparently, there are lots of animals in danger.

Keeping It Real


I admit. There are times when I think, "I'm a good mom." It's rare, but it happens. Like the fact that I make my kids read and I've instilled in them the love of a good story. The thrill of turning the page. The desire to sneak books into bed and use a flashlight to get five more minutes. I was a literature major in college and my career is to get paid to read. I love all things books and print. (True fact: I love reading the dictionary.) So seeing Carver not getting ready for school but trying to finish his current novel just about puts me over the moon with pride.

Harder to admit is the times I am a real jerk. And it happens. For example, I was at the hoity-toity gourmet grocery store for their sale on eggplant and there was a young mom there. She had her perfect two-year old in the cart. He was chewing on organic broccoli. She was dressed just way too adorable for grocery shopping. She had cute shoes and fancy earrings. I had scuffed flats and bleach-stained jeans. It was hard not to compare myself to her. And then, as I was bagging my eggplant, another person approached the cute mom and asked her, "Where do you get your hair cut? It's so beautiful."

Ahem.

So I went to pay for my eggplant and the line was long and after a few minutes there was a terrible high-pitched wail from somewhere in the middle of the store. It continued for a few minutes, increasing in octaves. "Gee," I thought. "Someone sure is throwing a fit." The wailing got louder and who should round the corner? Cute mom with broccoli-eating kid. And what was my response? "HA!" I actually took pleasure in her child's tantrum.


Therefore, I am a jerk.

This and That
I am beginning to feel really sorry for myself. Not only is it possible to get the same stomach flu twice (oh yes it is--living proof right here) but my 6 year old has eyelashes to die for. What 6 year old boy needs eyelashes as thick and long as Zinabu's? Can I somehow harvest them? Pluck them out in his sleep? What a waste of beautiful eye fringe.


The dog gets to spend his days lounging in the sun and making mopey eyes at me. I've decided that's what I want to be when I grow up. A dog. A dog who gets to sleep in sun patches and make mopey eyes at people.

Meanwhile, February is over and gone and my Acts of Kindness trickled down to a pathetic drip. There was no kindness to be found while leaning over a toilet, losing 24 hours worth of dietary sustenance. Or the next day. Or the next. But other than the horrible digestive parasite, I enjoyed challenging myself to being more "aware" of being kind. For example, there were three separate occasions where I found myself grabbing runaway grocery carts in the parking lot and pushing them to the place where you're supposed to leave your carts. I can only imagine how annoying it must be for the cart person to go out to the parking lot on any given day and find that their job is 6,000 times more difficult because all the shoppers are too dang lazy to put their carts away. Another kind act I performed was going through the drive-thru at Starbucks and paying for the person behind me. That was the most fun. Just randomly making someone's day. Try it sometime. You'll like it.

I was hoping to have a new challenge for the month of March, but until I get my body back to "food in, food stays in" I'm not setting the bar too high.

Worst Stomach Flu Ever vs. Us

Me
David
My Mom
Zinabu
Carver
Lily

We're losing. Big time. Are you sick of reading about our stomach flu? Me too. And I'm sick of living it. I'll be thrilled when we move beyond a diet of bland rice and bananas and don't look at mixing bowls as puke-catchers anymore. We are thankful that this hit us now as opposed to three weeks from now, when we're flying to California for a family vacation. Not to mention this is one of the biggest weeks ever in David's job. Ever. More on that later. But for now, we are waiting for Lily and Carver to come down with the Famous Flu of 2010, and buying more bananas.

While I'm glad the kids didn't get sick, it hardly seems fair that their energy levels remain the same. Well, Zinabu's is above average, it that's even possible!

And the good news of the day? I ate rice.

I guess trying to eat today was a little presumptuous.

Dear Stomach Flu,

Thank you so much for visiting our home. Really! When I think of all the families you could have stayed with, I feel so special that you chose us. I had no idea you could be such a party bug! Up all night, non-stop action. Whew. I also want to thank you for allowing me to spend so much time with the toilet in the laundry room. I guess I had always neglected it in the past, but when you kept me up all night I was able to really bond with that particular porcelain object. Somehow you knew it was feeling left out. You're one hard-core animal! I was afraid you'd send me to the hospital after all your influence. And thanks, also, for making sure David got in on all the action. I love that you made sure he was a part of your plans.

Your host,
Cathy

Strange, but the people who seem to best appreciate my role in life is Procter and Gamble. I'm glad someone understands.

This is what you get when you make him take Mucinex. It's an instant reaction and lasts a good 20 seconds. I know the stuff tastes nasty, but he needs it. He sounds like he has things growing in his lungs. He has no fever, no lack of energy (or verbal skills--still talking as much as ever!) but when he coughs he sounds like he should be hospitalized. He was at school yesterday and began coughing so hard he threw up. He was fascinated by the experience... he got to go to the sick room in the office and "see their microwave AND the crossing guard orange vests."


Okee dokee. He's easily entertained.


So he's staying home today and I know he'll be perfectly fine but I'll keep pouring Mucinex down his gullet and keep smiling at his reaction!

Recently Overheard

Zinabu: Mom, guess what? Carver's going to buy me a dictionary if I don't bug him for two weeks!!!