The Loverich Family

A Love Letter To Our Boy.

2011-07-07T21:42:00.000-07:00

While I was pregnant I read your name in a book and before I saw your face, held your hands or heard your voice, I knew that was who you were. Never a doubt. You are a 'protector of the park' and the hearts of those you love, a fierce competitor and more fierce friend.

You wear your heart on your sleeve in good times and in bad. You love without abandon and it makes others want to love you more. I know that isn't always the "coolest" way to act at your age, but it doesn't bother you to hug us or say I love you. Dad and I are so grateful for you.

Yesterday, you gave us a gift that your Dad and I will forever be thankful for.

The first time you walked onto a tee ball field with a uniform on at 3 years old, we saw your path open up for you. From that day on, you worked hard to get to the next level, always pushing a little harder for that extra step. You made a big leap this year on your regular season team. As the only 9 year old pulled up to the older age bracket, you did well. We were so proud. You struggled on the personal side a little - there's a big difference between 9 and 12 and unfortunately, it showed on the field sometimes. But you fought through. Proud.

When you turned 9, one of the first things you said on your birthday was, "I'm finally eligible for All-Stars!" You got 3 games in your first run. You started with a loss, came back, pitched an AMAZING 2nd game. We have pictures of your team pig-piling on you after you closed out the first inning with a knuckle ball that had the batter so out front, he could have swung twice.

Then there was today. You had to play the other 9/10 team from NK. Brutal that you and your friends were put in the spot that you would have to put each other out. Your team was down for most of the game, but then we got to the 6th inning.

You were incredible.

I was shaking.

You made me so proud, I will never forget those moments.

Two down, down by 3, bases loaded - and you came up to bat. Parker, you smoked a 3-run double out to right center to tie the game. Then you managed to come around and steal home for the go-ahead run.

I've always tried to keep perspective, but I, and any of the parents around me, can tell you - my hands were shaking like a leaf. I wanted this so badly for you, because I know you've been waiting for this opportunity from the minute you picked up a baseball. You got to that moment - "2 down, bases loaded..." and you stepped up and made that magical thing happen. YOU did it.

Proud. More than you know.

Things went badly after that and your team did not end up with the win. Of course, you shed a tear. But you know what, so did your Dad. And that was okay. Because you gave your heart and you left EVERYTHING on the field. I hope there will not be a moment that you look back and do a 'what-if'. You will have plenty more opportunities. I know that you can and will make the most of it.

You commented to me later that you've never seen Dad cry before. He was sad for you. But he shed a tear because you gave so much heart and weren't able to make that win happen. You gave your Dad and me a gift that day. There are not many moments that we get to cry tears of joy and pride in our lives. That was one of them.

Daddy and I will carry that memory in our heart for a very long time. You showed us what you were made of at that moment. And it is something we are VERY proud of.

Advice From Cellblock 98370

2011-07-01T18:52:00.000-07:00

Before they were born, I remember floating around in a pregnancy-induced bliss (must've been 2nd trimester), creatively imagining names for our impending children.

I wrote out the options in swirly script, I stenciled them on nursery walls, mocked up birth announcements - "Johnene and Eric can hardly contain the love they feel and must herald along with the angels the arrival of..."

Anyway... our beautiful girl was given the equally beautiful name Maddie Joy and was quickly followed by her adorable, but masculine brother, Parker John. Lovely names, the first literally the emotion we felt toward, well, both the children and the second, an adoring tribute to the many Johns (and Johnenes) on my side of the family tree. Well done us. Maybe.

In hindsight,

after a two weeks of summer vacation,

and two preteens,

I would take a different approach.

Allow me to explain.

Growing up, my brother *lovingly* coined the phrase "Prison Voice" to describe the change that occurred to our mother's voice when she was angry. (As in, "Watch out, Mom's using the Prison Voice. You may want to have dinner at a friend's house.") Not so much a tone, but a growl. As teens and young adults, we belittled it into ineffectiveness.

With 11.5 years of parenting and the aforementioned 2 weeks of summer vacation under my belt, I feel I may have undersold the Prison Voice. It may legitimately have a place in every mother's repertoire. I have used it this week and subsequently have realized it is very hard to growl the name Joy. Hmmm. Who'da thought?

But to all you parents-to-be, I would strongly suggest finding your own Prison Voice long before you stencil that name on the wall and give the moniker a test run in that way. Trust me, no matter what marshmallowy bliss cloud you are floating on right now, that is the way you will repeat that name the most.

One Night (and then more the next day...)

2011-06-27T13:37:00.000-07:00

I had a one-night stand this week. And I liked it. A lot.

Maybe it was the warm summer night, the lights on the river, the lovely hotel with it's cucumber-infused cocktails, I can't really say, but I know I woke up the next morning wanting more. And I got it.

I was treated with long walks, art museums, friendly smiles, delicious food, crisp wine from local vintners, farmer's markets further set the scene - overflowing with delectable fruits, vegetables and flowers.

I left, reluctantly, with a big, ol' crush... On Portland.

Just one night was all I had, while Eric worked beginning early and through the next day.

The trip itself was entirely unplanned. I had even threatened to back out at the last minute because Eric was getting on my nerves and I didn't want to spend 3 hours in the car with him. But he called me Wingman (which always gets me) and turned on some really good music (can't resist). Plus, the kids were already with my parents... Okay. Fine. Let's go.

We got into the city late, enjoyed the aforementioned cucumber cocktails, I slept late, Googled some must-sees and headed out. About 2 hours into my Portland Art Museum-induced bliss, I realized what was happening to me was totally organic and probably unable to be duplicated. These hours spent carelessly wandering the city and it's art would never happen with the fam in tow. N.E.V.E.R! It would be tainted with sprinklings of "My feet hurt", "I'm hungry" and "How much loooongerrrrr?" But with E in an all-day meeting and the kids across the state line, I indulged in all those things that would make the rest of my family "soooo buh-huh-huh-ooored." (Bored - say it phonetically like an 11-year old girl, bounce on the balls of your feet, let your arms drape, head thrown back and eyes rolling. Get it now?)

And so it happened, just one night. But it was really the next day that consummated the love affair. Before it could happen again, I pointed the car north as my arugula wilted in the trunk. But I will be back. Oh yes. I will be back.

Tina Fey's Prayer for her Daughter from "Bossypants"

2011-06-21T15:52:00.000-07:00

I love Tina Fey. Love her. And in the spirit of my last blog post, I am simply re-posting this bit of hilarious brilliance because again, it makes me laugh and it somehow fits. This spoken by the mother who was so mad at my 11-year-old yesterday that I thought it would beautifully make my point to give her the silent treatment for the day in front of her friend. By the way, neither noticed. They just thought I was being a bitch. Enjoy.

First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered,
May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half
And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her
When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the nearby subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock N’ Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance.
Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes
And not have to wear high heels.
What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen.
Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long,
For Childhood is short -- a Tiger Flower blooming
Magenta for one day --
And Adulthood is long and Dry-Humping in Cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever,
That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers
And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister,
Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends,
For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord,
That I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 a.m., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.
“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck.
“My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental note to call me. And she will forget.

But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.

"Against and Alongside"

2011-06-07T13:48:00.000-07:00

A friend sent this along in an email today and it truly couldn't have been better timing - although, it's made me cry for the last 1/2 hour...

Today was the day Maddie got to tour the Middle School she will be attending next year. The impending 6th grade transition has hung over our horizon all year, often becoming the subject of so many of our conversations. She has talked about it for the last nine months with such excitement, I didn't expect this morning to go as it did.

As I went about making lunches, Maddie reminded me that she didn't need one today, as it was the day of the tour and she would like to buy lunch there to see the routine. But then she added, "You're coming, aren't you?"

Momentarily stunned by the invitation (I've moved from "Mama" to mostly "Moooooom!" nowadays), I said that if she wanted me, of course, I would be there! And she did, so I was.

Walking into the auditorium, I was again shocked to see her waving me over and asking to sit with her. I pushed in front of another group of kids so quickly, those brats didn't have a chance to take the seat she was saving for me.

I watched her try to balance her nerves and her cool as I did the same. Tried to blend, but also made sure the questions I knew she had were answered. The handful of kids she knows up there were extremely gracious and went out of their way to make her feel welcome. Something as a mom, I was beyond grateful for.

It was a good morning for us. She even kissed me goodbye!

But then I got home to this essay below. Thank you, Angela. I wish I knew who the author was! It captures so many things that are so timely in our home and in my mind recently. There is a balance we are all striving to achieve, there are days like today and there are days, well, like yesterday, but that's another story... Motherhood is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me, and sometimes, it takes someone else to find the words you can't.
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"I began as the mother of babes.

And I mean that, for I was born then, too.
All of the me that had begun,
The wonderings and wanderings of my first three decades,
Melted away in the faces of those new babies
And I was born anew.

I spent the next decade tending.
And tending, I did well. It was my thing, apparently.

I grew into it, and I loved every minute.
Well,
You know that to be a gentle lie.
There were quite a few minutes of awful. Of anguish, even.
And so much comedy, uncertainty, dishevelment.
You know.

But now...
Some of my babes are almost grown.
Do not kid yourself about how quickly that happens.
Do not kid yourself and do not miss a second wishing those
Wonderfully intense, delicious early years away.

For it happens even as you are watching them.
They grow.

And as much as you need to lose yourself to care for those newborn babes, those littles-
When they have grown to your size almost-when their feet may be as big!-
It is then that you need to find yourself again.
You need to grow.

For then, as they come upon ten; at twelve maybe...fourteen certainly;
Then you must find yourself in order to know how to guide them. You must be the you
That you want to be,
So that the you they are growing up against and alongside, is the you that you want them to know.

For here's the thing:

In the end,
What you want for them most of all is to leave you.
To leave your house to become who they will be.
And when they are gone
Who do you want to be left with?

My wish is that my own answer
Is the me that was born out of mothering them.
And the man that's loved me all along the way."

Little Faces.

2011-05-10T14:51:00.000-07:00

I was the very happy recipient of a new computer for Mother's Day this year. It's arrival has caused me to go through several of the files I've had locked away on a hard drive. Those that struck me the most were the pictures. Thousands of split second moments that we've captured over the years. Several forgotten, at the time not deemed album-worthy, but when I look at them now, I just want to stare at those faces that I've gotten so used to seeing, I don't always realize how quickly time has changed them.

When did the kids grow up? I swear it wasn't that long ago that there were two bodies wedged between us in the bed and the smell of baby lotion on everything I touched. When was the last time I watched Elmo? There was a time when I never traveled without something with his image on it. He was truly my best wingman for several years. Many things got done under his furry, red watch. The potty training, the first days of school, lost teeth. Now it's nail polish, boys, girls, school, sports...

Wow. That went by fast.

I loved those days (maybe not EVERY one, but in general...) but am also loving to see the kids get older. I appreciate their sense of humor. It's wonderful to have a full conversation with them. I love seeing the friends and relationships they've developed. I hope they will be lucky enough to maintain some of them as they get older. It's a gift to be able to sit down to coffee with a friend who's known you since you were 12, or even better, wake up next to one.

While I miss those little faces in the photos, I so love the ones that greet me after a day a school, or an evening on the ball field. Motherhood has been a speedy ride, but I am glad to be on it.

Lightbulb Moment

2011-04-02T10:13:00.001-07:00

I haven't blogged in nearly a year. Wow. Now I'm getting on here to post a bit of a rant, although it really isn't all that hateful. It's a more wistful rant, if you will. And perhaps this morning my anger is a bit misplaced, but what is getting the brunt of it this morning is my lamp. More importantly, the bulb in it.

I know it is totally un-PC, but I can't stand the new light bulbs. Now, before you come at me with your polar bears and Priuses, let me explain.

I knocked over my bedside lamp the other day and broke the last remaining round light bulb we had. So I went up to Home Depot and perused the aisle filled with swirly ice cream cone bulbs and found - soft white, fluorescent, white, direct sunlight, indirect sunlight, moonglow... What? I don't know? To be clear, I've bought them for the rest of the house, but I haven't been directly effected like this. I didn't realize how particular I was about my reading lamp light, but all of the sudden I couldn't make a decision. I just want one that I can wake up and read with at night when I can't sleep. I searched for the label: "Doesn't-make-you-squint-to-read-for-the-first-five-minutes-or-burn-out-your-retnas-on-contact".

I chose indirect sunlight. I figured for my beside table, let's give a thirty-something sister a hand, indirect is better for all involved.

Anyway, I got home, screwed it in (it took only one of me in case you are looking for a joke) and BAM! My room was glowing like a warehouse floor. The worst possible light I've ever seen - sort of a sickly green and dim. Gross. After a few minutes, it brightened up to a more fluorescent glow, to the point that Eric walked in and said, "Oh my god. What happened?"

I ran out to the garage hoping to find an old lamp with one of the old bulbs still in it. But to no avail. I did switch it out with another, less offensive bulb in the house. It works, as long as you let it warm up for you.

But secretly (not anymore) still I wistfully remember the days of those old GE bulbs that gave you the light you signed up for when you flicked the switch.

I know, I know... My grandkids will be thanking me. But in the meantime, will they hold up a flashlight for their old Grandma while she reads those first couple of pages until her light bulb works itself up to full force?

Yo Momma's Day

2010-05-09T21:26:00.000-07:00

The kids are apparently now rappers, so with dance moves inherited from their Dad, they presented me with this - a somewhat original song, inspired by some viral video. Thanks, you punks! I love you to the moon and back! It was a great day!

A Small Part

2010-03-09T12:45:00.000-08:00

Last October, a friend called and said the high school was auditioning for parts in Annie. The girls were all to come prepared to sing the song 'Tomorrow'. For 3 weeks, Maddie practiced and practiced. She sang to anyone and everyone who would listen. She got pretty good, too.

Finally, the audition day came. We walked into an auditorium that was teeming with high schoolers. Loud and running around, comfortable with one another, clearly had done this before. The directors were also familiar with a lot of these kids, not afraid to tell them what they needed to do to improve their performances. Every time they yelled out to a kid, I saw Maddie shrink further into her chair and cut her eyes in my direction. I smiled and tried to look confident, but I looked at the number of kids and knew it was going to be a long shot.

By the time it was her turn, they'd cut the girls to just one verse. When her name was called, she walked up onstage and stood there waiting for piano accompaniment. At 10 years old, she looked so small and her voice, when she started to sing, was lost in the babble and curtains and cavernous auditorium. The courage alone it took to stand up there... My heart sank for her. But she came off stage, with a smile and a "We'll call you" and we went to get an ice cream.

A few days later the call came that she didn't get a part. I'll admit, I cried thinking about how to break the news to her and how it would break her heart. The kids don't hear the word no very often, and while I realized this was a chance to really teach a life lesson, this was a big NO to hear.

It was every bit as awful as I'd imagined it would be and I don't know if it was right or wrong to pose it as a lesson at that point, but I did. Simply because I didn't know what else to do. She grieved not getting a part. It was terrible to watch her work so hard and fail.

A couple of weeks passed and we got another call - they needed extras. Would Maddie be willing to do that? Uhhh... Yeah.

So it started. Practices every couple weeks at first, then a few before the Winter Break. Then ramping up into February. I'd never been involved in theater before, but I have to imagine this program would rate pretty high up there. The work and detail and intricacies put into each song, each scene, it was insanely impressive to my untrained eye. How it was going to all come together, I couldn't envision, but could see the potential.

The directors tweaked and tweaked right up to(and through)opening night. It was so nerve-wracking to see and wonder how it would all turn out. The costumes got their final touches, the vacuum was run through the seats, "Instead, sing 'Hooverville' like this", and people started to take their seats.

Now, I had a small part in this production. Our dog was playing Sandy, so I was waiting with him in the wings. I never got to see Maddie's first song from the seats once the show started (I watched the 2nd all 9 times). But I did get to watch from stage left, just beyond the curtain's black folds. When the curtain pulled back and the lights came on, her back was to me. Maddie and the ensemble worked their way around the stage, she turned and I got to see her face. Singing, under the lights, beautiful- even in her street kid costume, confident.

Another moment I wished I could lock away. Forever.

These incredible kids went on to perform 9 shows in the last week. By the end, there was a feeling of family among so many of the actors. They were kind and good to my girl, who was one of the 4 youngest in the cast. Getting to be backstage as much as I was, I got to feel a real affinity for so many of the cast members, I was able to share in their successes, it was a true gift.

Maddie would come off stage after each show, hang her costumes, dress in her comfy clothes with stage makeup and flush still brightening her eyes and cheeks. You could see the pride she felt, the love she had for what she was a part of, the exhaustion from long hours and the excitement for the next performance.

I, too, felt proud that she was a part of this. Proud, that even though she had a small part, it made her feel larger than life.

20.

2010-01-16T13:11:00.000-08:00

On Monday, it will be 20 years since the day Eric first asked me to "go out" with him. I sit here today, listening to our kids alternately bickering and laughing over a video game and Eric working on the house. It is a normal Saturday around here. A normal Saturday in this life we have made together.

I can look around my living room and see pictures of us from those early years, our wedding day, places we have been, our children growing up in framed still-life. I am awed at the time that has passed and the fact that somehow, from age 14, we have managed to stick it out. How lucky are we?

Eric told me the other day that this anniversary doesn't really matter, it's the marriage that has been the good stuff and should be celebrated. But I disagree. I think those 7 years we had before we got married were filled with good stuff, too. They are what got us to where we are today. I'm proud of them, as well.

I've had more "I love you's" and incredible moments in my life than should be allowed. I've never had to wonder who I could turn to. I've never had to look further than Eric for endless support, guidance and unconditional love. Many times, I've reflected on the path of my life and the series of events that lead my family to Bainbridge Island and me to Eric. If this hadn't happened, or that hadn't been said... The hand of fate was most definitely on my side.

We haven't had all happiness. When life threw us curveballs, we juggled them, not always gracefully. We've stood side-by-side at cemetaries. We've looked over one another in hospital beds. We've fought over work schedules and money and family and diaper changing. I've called him every name in the book (usually during those midnight, sleepless, newborn months), but I can't say the same for him. Eric has been my even keel on this 20 year trip. I don't keep my cool the way he does. I envy that in him, it sucks to have an argument with someone who refuses to dip to your level.

Maybe that doesn't sound like a love letter, but it's the times that put you through the wringer and you still come out the other side together, holding hands that count. I'm proud of that, too.

For many years, I could say I didn't realize the time that was passing, that I still felt 18. I don't feel 18 anymore, I see the wrinkles forming on my forehead, the distinguished looking white hair on Eric's temples. I don't mind it anymore, these things mark the passing of time. It is time we have been lucky enough to spend together.

When you put on miles, you wear down the tread a bit, that's they way it goes. And there's no one I'd rather travel with.

Thanks for these 20 years, Eric. You've made, and continue to make, my dreams come true.

Thanksgiving Through My Girl's Eyes

2009-11-25T07:46:00.000-08:00

I tend to overthink and stress myself out over Thanksgiving. We've never had a disaster, we've always had great food, incredible company, but I let myself get bogged down in details and almost always get to the day itself feeling exhausted. And you know what? No one in the course of any Thanksgiving Day has EVER run their fingers over the tops of my picture frames to check for the dust that isn't there... I get to thank Maddie this morning for bringing me back down to what Thanksgiving is, the time we spend with family and why it is a day we look forward to.
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Thanksgiving Wishes - by Maddie Loverich

Every Thanksgiving Day is a fun day in my house. First, we watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. This is my favorite part of Thanksgiving morning. Next our church goes to Raab Park and plays football. It's always so much fun! But then we go home and the house starts getting filled with delightful smells. Those of turkey, stuffing and pie.

My family from my Mom's side usually comes over to eat. They are super funny! It think it runs in the blood.

But my Thanksgiving wish is a really good one. It would make it the best Thanksgiving ever.

My Uncle Tommy and Aunt Tuuli live in New Jersey. Uncle Tommy is super cool. He owns about 3 Harley Davidsons. He also has a hot rod.

But my wish for Thanksgiving is that they would come. That would make the ultimate Thanksgiving.
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To all our family and friends who we can't be with on Thanksgiving, you are here on our minds and in our hearts. I wish everyone a very special day. We are thankful for all of you!

A dozen.

2009-10-07T10:49:00.000-07:00

I wanted to write a blog about our 12th anniversary coming up this Sunday. I wanted to write about how over the years, the way we love and the reasons for loving have changed in so many ways. But as I wrote out these intensely personal anecdotes, I realized, part of what makes (at least our) marriage work, is knowing when to speak up and when to shut up - and that is NOT my strong point, believe me, it's taken a lot of work.

Those memories for now, are just for us. Sunday I will celebrate a love that felt all-encompassing at each stage, but entirely different between then and now. I will thank him for not just being my husband, but my partner, my best friend, my anchor. For loving me even when I'm at my worst (I actually think he prefers me at my worst, the wallpaper on his cellphone is me giving him the finger and it makes him laugh every time he looks at it). Still, my favorite part of each day is folding into the crook of his arm at night and knowing he will hold me for the next 8 hours straight.

Happy 12th, Eric. Good stuff.

Protecting heads and hearts

2009-09-26T12:59:00.000-07:00

Parker turned 8 yesterday. His big gift was a new football helmet - protection for his head. He was thrilled with it, but this September 25th was not going to be remembered simply because it was Parker's birthday, life had more planned for us.

Parks wanted to go out to breakfast, so we headed down before school. When we parked in a relatively empty lot, a woman ran up to our car and asked us to call 911. Her husband was in their car, having a heart attack.

While we both ran to him, we instructed the kids to stay in the car, not to open the doors at all. This man, whose name we didn't learn, was not in good shape, but was breathing. It seemed like the longest 5 minutes of my life until the ambulance arrived and we tried to keep him upright and his wife calm. I cannot imagine what was happening in their heads. We really were helpless, the best we could do was just stay there and keep an unconscious man breathing.

It was VERY hard. Seeing what we saw, hearing the words a wife says to a husband when they don't know if there is any time left. Today, Eric and I keep catching each other staring off in quiet moments, shaking our heads, doing the coulda, woulda, shouldas. If we knew his name, we could find out what happened, contacted family, whatever. I guess we did the best we could...

We're always looking for new ways to keep our kids safe, both physically and developmentally. When they are little, we pad all the corners, lock all the cabinets, tether the bookshelves, load them into carseats that Houdini couldn't escape (and probably wouldn't want to - some of those things are PLUSH!). They grow, we screen schools, teachers and friends. Luckily, our kids are still at an age where we can control where and with whom they spend their time. But yesterday, we learned that no matter how carefully you plan, you can't always protect your children from everything life will throw at us.

Fortunately, there was a car in between ours and theirs, so the children didn't see what was going on, but in their heads, the worst was happening. That head that we so carefully shopped for helmets and facemasks to protect, was filled with the most terrifying truth any of us have to face.

They were both sitting quietly crying when we got back in the car. We assured them that he was going to live, which we believe was true. But the horror was something no one ever would want to see on their children's faces.

Eric was remarkable. He distracted them and refocused their attention, even got them laughing with his goofiness as we got back to our house. It was all I could do, meanwhile, to make my hands stop shaking. Truly remarkable. It's the only word the keeps coming to me.

Parker and Maddie, I wish we could protect your heads and hearts from all of the hardships in this world. But I hope you take from this the strength and solidarity, the hugs and reassurance we will always have for you.

While I will keep buying the pads and helmets, I hope the love we try so hard to shroud you with will get you through everything else.

The Sacrifice That Wasn't

2009-09-18T14:22:00.000-07:00

Months and months ago I logged on to Ticketmaster and shelled out a couple hundred dollars for something I thought was ridiculous, but in the effort to differentiate from my own mother, necessary.

The debit plastic was burning hot for Miley Cyrus tickets.

It was so far off in the future, I figured it was pointless to think too hard on it, besides, the tour itself didn't start until 2 nights before we attended. There would be no preparing, or reading other's blogs to prepare myself for the eardrum blistering amount of screaming I was sure to encounter. So it was just the Sunday before last that I glanced at the calendar and realized, "Crap. That's next week."

A small gaggle of girlfriends were also planning on attending with their daughters, so we made plans to travel down together, softening the blow with a rather large beer and dinner on the way. Since we'd all bought our tickets separately, (thanks to a 'paperless' process in which each person could only purchase 4, then only get email confirmation, then show up with nothing in hand but a long-ago purchase number and the credit card itself - truly could write an entry on this experience, so I will digress...) none of us were sitting together. Quite a bummer for both me and Maddie - I spent a lot of time sarcastically mimicking, didn't know the words but for a couple choruses and she knew I could never match her enthusiasm, who was she going to dance with and high-5? Certainly not her lame-ass Mom who kept referring to her as Hannah Montana, and didn't I know that she was performing as MILEY CYRUS? Evidently, they are no longer the same... Digress, again. So, it was just the two of us, in section 16-A.

So, as the days progressed, I took on the air of a true martyr. There was much sighing and implied selflessness as I made a point to loudly check the levels in my Advil bottles and tell everyone within earshot to remind me to put them in my purse for Wednesday night. I began referencing my trip to Preteen Hell as I wondered how I could possibly prepare my ears for the screeching onslaught from the crowd of tarted-up, pony-tailed and bedazzled elementary school kids whose screams would no doubt block out the whiny, countrified voice of Miley Hannah Ray Cyrus Montana that I just paid to hear - wait, was that a positive or a negative?

Then it was t-minus 24-hours and counting. Oh, was I pious! I was Jesus on the cross! The things I would do for my girl. I hope she appreciates this. The sacrifice! Hand to God, when I signed her out of school, I put 'Miley Cyrus' as the reason for her absence. "Are you serious?" The secretary asked and told me that this would stay in Maddie's record permanently, which I saw as a tremendous benefit - a reminder of what her Mother would do in her name! And in a few years, when there is no one (in her opinion) less cool than me, I can refer to state records to show that, yes, for one brief shining evening, I, Mom, did something cool.

You get the gist of how put-out I was by this whole deal, right?

Maddie made a sign, "Rock the Dome." (Puh-leese! I've seen Springsteen rock this dome... Ain't no way this 16-year-old pop tart was going to do anything close to rocking...) She put on an outfit that she saved her allowance to buy from the Miley Cyrus clothing line at Walmart. Maddie came out with sunglasses on her head, braids in her hair, a t-shirt with a heart and a drum set on it with matching leggings, under a denim skirt. Plaid, high top Converse finished off the look.

"Whaddaya think? Oh, wait!" And she returned with her sign, "Whaddaya think?"

What I thought was she looked adorable, excited and I couldn't wait to see her reaction when Miley walked out on stage. What I did, was roll my eyes and tell her to get in the car. I was put out, remember?

Now, during the day, I had taken the time to look up the reviews of Monday night's concert in Portland, again, the first of the tour. Expecting cute and bubble-gummy, instead I read that Hannah was growing up both artistically and physically. One reviewer wrote, "Miley's got boobs and she's anxious to show them." Great.

As we neared the Tacoma Dome, Maddie and the other girls' excitement was palpable. The smiles that broke out when we first saw the top of the dome from the road were probably worth $200 themselves. Then we got inside.

My kids, like many, many other American kids, have a sense of entitlement that has at times made me want to ship them to a 3rd world country for a month. I did not get one iota of this surrounding this concert, and haven't in the days since the concert, either. Walking into the stadium, Maddie was blissfully happy and grateful, to the point that her admiration of an empty stage made me tear up a little. That was when the hugs began. I got more hugs in that 3-hour stretch than I have in a year (and my kids are pretty affectionate).

The opening act was, well, it was a pile of crap. Turns out it was Miley's older brother's band who were all just fine skating by on nepotism and very little pride (or practice...). It was to say the least, a buzzkill, where even a 6-year-old would be justified listening to them and saying, "What the f?#@ is this?"

But then the concert started. This girl burst, literally, onto the stage from a block of "ice" amidst smoke, video screens, dancers, pyrotechnics and took over the auditorium. I admit to emitting a rather exuberant, "Woo!" But it'll never be proven as it was lost in the high-pitched cacophony that had exploded around me - notably from Maddie, screaming so loudly, I was a little afraid she was going to stroke out right there next to me.

The high-intensity show was so thoroughly entertaining, I found myself fake-singing along (you know, catch a few lines of a chorus, or anticipating the end of a line) with my daughter who danced and sang and danced and sang, and hugged. I suddenly felt like the loser, not for being at the concert, but for not knowing these songs everyone else was belting out at the top of their lungs. Dang, I want to know the words to Party In The USA, that looked like fun!

When the middle set slowed it down a bit with some more ballad-y songs, I found myself sitting watching this child, really, who is a money making machine. I wondered where she'll be in a few years when the Disney shine wears off. Will her positive message still be in the forefront of her music when Maddie is getting to that awkward age and could use the encouraging messages of strength from someone she idolizes? Where will this star end up? And my thoughts turned to Maddie...

I listened to Miley singing about love, finding a love, losing a love, learning who you are through the process, I got sad and excited at the same time thinking of my daughter only a handful of years away from that roller coaster. I remember how fun and utterly heartbreaking those teen years were - and I married my H.S. sweetheart, it could've been a lot worse! (I know, apparently, I get introspective when I'm at a mega-concert and don't know the music).

Anyway...

I sat there watching my daughter singing her little heart out, alternately dancing and hugging me when the mood hit, not really feeling that far away from the 16 year-old I had been, but at the same time looking forward to the young woman Maddie is quickly becoming.

I felt lucky to be there jumbled up in the spectacle of this powerhouse performer, glowsticks, clapping hands, Halloween wigs and sequins, my daughter uninhibited, looking at me with truly grateful eyes and telling me, "When I have a daughter, I'm going to take her to a Miley Cyrus concert!"

On the elliptical at the gym today, I switched my iPod on shuffle and my headphones belted out a Miley song - The Climb.

"I may not know it, but these are the moments I'm gonna remember most..." Sing it, sister.

Chapter May 2009 Part 2 - A follow-up in which Daddy redeems himself

2009-05-18T15:11:00.000-07:00

It happened. It was was Eric's purple light and siren that began to sound over the din of the crowd at Viking Fest. He proceed to throw both fists up in the air and then point at me.

"Any one you want," the carnival gamer waved his arm at all the giant stuffed animals hanging overheard.

Eric scanned past the somewhat cute bears and dogs. Paused to consider the purple and green gecko, then he rounded the other side of the booth and spotted it, "There it is! I want my wife to carry THAT one!"

It was big and a hideous mottled yellow. It was a duck with a somewhat human body. The last of it's kind, the poor man had to pull out a stepping stool and a pinching tool to get it down from it's perch. But Eric won the big boy prize and there was nothing bigger or more neon to be had, this duck had found a home.

It could be worse... I guess I should just count my lucky stars that we didn't walk out of there with a mirrored picture of a bikinied woman posed on top of a red sports car, circa 1989... Those were at a different booth.

Chapter May 2009 - In Which Daddy Gets His Ego Bruised.

2009-05-11T19:53:00.001-07:00

There was an entirely entertaining (for me and at Eric's expense) conversation over dinner. The family trash-talk had begun over carnival games at our town's big annual festival - Viking Fest. The kids are getting geared up for the carnie games and wondering which will be the lucky one for them this year. And on which ones Mom will win the big prizes. God love Eric, he just doesn't have the luck at those kind of things and somehow, (I attribute it to my Jersey Boardwalk summers) I do. As an example, the last trip back East, I had to pack an extra suitcase to get my Jenkinson's Boardwalk booty home for the kids. It's a tough subject around here, but tougher now that the kids realize Mommy wins them the big toys. I digress...

Anyway, tonight at dinner the kids started in about the games they wanted to play and win. When Eric offered to win certain prizes for them, and what he'd won them in the past, Maddie pointed out, "Uncle Tommy actually won me that." or "Wasn't that Mommy?" Sadly accurate, Eric took offense. The following conversation occurred:

Eric: "I've won BIG stuff before!"

Maddie: "I don't have anything big you've won for me, Dad."

Me(stoking the flames): "Me either, Dad. Not even when we were dating..."

Eric (flustered and scrambling for pride): "Well, one time in a fishing derby, I won a VCR."

Maddie: "How old were you?"

Eric: "I don't know...."

Parker (innocently puts down his milk and looks questioningly at his father and deals the killer stroke): "What's a VCR?"

One week and counting to Viking Fest. Let's all cross our fingers for Eric. His kids' respect hangs in the balance... And I vow not to pick up a single dart or water shooter!

My Girl

2009-04-10T07:53:00.000-07:00

In the books, last night's game was a loss for our team. In my mind and heart, scores are not what I will take with me. When you coach a group of kids, you always wonder - did we do enough, did we do too much, are we doing it right? The answer is no. But somehow, those kids take all the heaps of information and their ambition and joy and form a team - even on that first game night, and that in the end is what they will take with them. I am so thankful to be a witness to that.

But I have to move from Coach to Mom to tell my story. Last night I saw my little girl, who will always be 3 years old somewhere in my head, stand on a pitcher's mound for the first time. She stood there and pitched 2 innings. They weren't spectacular, but it was her poise and control that actually moved me to tears (privately and briefly, to not embarrass myself or my kid). It was one of those moments when you step back and see your child grow up right in front of your eyes. I was awestruck by her strength and ability to block out the pressure, the noise, the last passed ball, the runners on the bases. She never fell apart. I watched her adjust when she got out of control, or something didn't work. And even though she walked more than she struck out, as her Mom, I thought it was the most beautiful thing I've ever witnessed.

One day, before I know it, this miraculous little girl that gave us such a bad time coming into this world, is going to become a woman. She will step out and start to live a life of her own. And if she shows just the faintest shadow of the person she was last night, it's going to be a great one.

After the game, we had a board meeting. Tired, physically and emotionally, as the clock neared 10, Maddie came out of the back room where she'd been hanging out with other board kids and curled into my lap - just like a 3 year old. Still in her uniform, with eyeblack smeared across her cheeks, she laid her head on my shoulder. She smelled like leather and her forehead tasted salty under my kiss. I write that now in hopes of locking it away, I know those moments when all she wants is to be in Mom's arms are running out on me. I hope I never forget how beautiful she looked out there, smiling, proud and so full of confidence and how she still fit into my lap afterward.

My girl.

CPS Before Breakfast

2009-03-05T11:06:00.001-08:00

We know Parker hates taking out the dogs. He started a diary 2 weeks ago that he told us was filled with "secrets" and we weren't to read it. But several times that first day, he toted this book out, lay it down in front of us and said, "Don't read this. It's all my secrets." Finally, after half a dozen times, I asked if maybe he wanted to show us what his secrets were. To which he enthusiastically opened the notebook.

It was filled with shocking secrets like -
"Sometimes I hurt my knee and don't tell."
"Sometimes I just throw my clean clothes on the closet floor and not where they go."
"I hate taking the dogs out."
And finally, "Sometimes I lie about taking the dogs out."

So, this morning, since Parker was the first one up and woke up the puppy, I sent him to let the dogs out. As a sort of punishment.

"But I'm in my underwear. Can I just put a blanket on and go out?"

"Sure, just go out the back." But after 5 minutes with no return of dogs or Parker, I went to see what was happening.

Harley was running around the yard with someone else's newspaper in her mouth and Parker and Kona were nowhere to be seen. Panicking and realizing what he went outside wearing, I called out and got no response. I became increasingly louder as I headed out of the driveway. Then I got a faraway response, "I'm here, Mom."

Frantically, I ran out of the driveway and caught sight of my son, on the next street over in his underwear, blanket and snowboots coming out from behind a neighbor's house. At that moment, I had the thought scream through my mind - what I have I done in my life to get here right now?

I responded in the most logical way I could think, "Wha-? Parker, get here now. RUN!" And my son came clomping toward me as I scanned the windows of the houses he was running past to make sure there were no witnesses.

"Kona ran away. I was chasing him. He went into the bushes behind the red house. I was going to get him when you made me come back."

I grabbed the keys, got in the car and scooped up my son so we could go search for the dog.

"Did you see him go behind the house there?"

"No, but all the neighbors I talked to said they saw him go there."

"How many neighbors did you talk to?"

"Oh, 4."

4? Oh boy. I don't think we'll be invited to any barbecues any time soon. As a matter of fact, I think it's most of a miracle that they didn't report us to the authorities.

Wonder (what I'm going to catch) Woman

2009-02-27T10:25:00.000-08:00

I've never considered myself a germophobe, but I found myself really squirming today at the kids' school. I sat there during reading group and when I should have been listening to kids, I instead became super aware of the cold, flu and general germy sounds filling the classroom - my ears were tuned to every sniffle, cough and sneeze, the scritch, scritch, scritching of the child sitting next to me with her fingers in her hair. But lets focus on the sneeze -
I developed this Bionic Woman-type vision, where I swear, I could see it all in slow motion coming toward me, yet I didn't quite develop the Bionic Woman speed to avoid the spit that landed on my sleeve. It was all I could do to back out of the room with the neck of my shirt pulled over my mouth.

So, as the latex glove fits - germophobia it is.

I am going to take a shot of Airborne and a hot shower.

Wow!

2009-01-29T19:02:00.000-08:00

What a time we've had... We had an incredible week with our friends celebrating things I never knew would be celebrated. Last weekend, I had the privilege of shaving Tracie's head. The chemo treatments were taking their toll and when she called, there we were. As we've begun to call ourselves - The Usual Suspects. With snacks and the mixings for chocolate martinis in hand, we made an afternoon of it. Although, I have to admit to being much more relieved after the barber shop closed. At the time, I hated being the one to do this to my friend. But now, I am proud to be a part of her story - owning this cancer and doing it on her terms. What an incredible person. I am honored to be her friend and to have her in my life for the last 10 years.

Eric and I both celebrated the turning of another year! I can't speak for him, but for me, it was actually a wonderful day. With friends like ours, I find the number doesn't matter so much. I got to spend a lot of time with people who make me laugh and made me feel like birthdays are something to look forward to, rather than dread. The Jagodzinskes and Cullens actually made me dinner - Kristin, who is leaving for Ghana tomorrow to bring home her two children, I can't tell you how much your precious time this week meant to me. Your smile, your laugh. Thank you. Daron, who makes me laugh, shares my competitive spirit and love of a good inside joke. Merman, you are the man! Your card was one of the highlights of my day. I loved looking around my living room and seeing the four of you smiling and laughing in the midst of everything.

I feel lucky every day for the incredible people in my life, but particularly yesterday when I needed you! Thanks to everyone that stopped by or called for allowing me a chunk of your day. I know everyone has so many things going on, that my bday was probably the bottom thing on your list. Kristin leaving for Ghana tomorrow, Tracie in the midst of kicking Hodgkin's ass, work, kids, all the things that make our days so busy - Thank you for making me feel so special. You really did, more than you can imagine!

Thank you, thank you, thank you!!! Your friendships are the world to me.

Love Story...

2009-01-22T10:43:00.000-08:00

I love movies about love and relationships. Relationships between couples, friends, whatever. Growing up, I remember watching Pretty Woman and thinking how grand and romantic the Richard Gere character was - roses, limo, after a week in a penthouse suite... Wow, right?

We're so trained to look for the grand gestures when it comes to love. Look at TV with all the diamond ads - "How will you show her how much she means to you?" If your love is true, then you will commit yourself to a massive economic strain. I feel like that was what I was programmed to believe, but as I go through life, I've found the most love in the smallest things.

My friend is fighting Hodgkins Lymphoma right now. She finished her first round of chemo last week. At the appointment, the nurse told her that she should expect to start losing her hair soon, perhaps even within the day.

And sure enough, just a couple of days later, my beautiful, strong, amazing friend stood in my kitchen and said, "It started. I'm shedding like the dog." Even though she chose to make a joke about it (which is totally what I would do, too), I know that this is the hardest thing for her to say outloud.

Here is where the moment came in - It was her husband, standing next to her as she lowered her head. He reached out and gently touched her elbow. Then he smiled at his wife.

In the silence of that brief moment, I saw the volumes of love he has for her. And it was just a second. I was moved beyond explanation, and remain such.

This is where we find true love. It isn't in the house full of flowers, or the car with the bow on top, or the jewelry (none of which would be kicked out of bed, by the way...), I think it's in that small moment when you know you have a partner. When you don't need the words to speak for you - I will catch you if you fall. I will be your strength when you don't have it. I am here for you, sunshine or rain. We will make it through together. What can be more romantic than that?

And I have to add what endears me even more to these two - the conversation went on and he finished it with, "Well, I guess I'll be vacuuming more than every other day now."

Keep laughing through it all, my friends!

Turkey is as turkey does.

2008-11-26T14:28:00.001-08:00

Yesterday, I painted the bathroom for Thanksgiving. Not with leaves and pilgrim hats, but I repainted the wainscoting because I didn't want my guests to use a bathroom with anything short of the whitest white walls.

So today, here I am, polishing and spit-shining in between cooking side dishes. Because that is what Thanksgiving is all about, right? The least dusty lampshades and whitest bathroom walls. I need to step back and take stock. I've lost sight of something here...

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! From a real turkey.

34 Days and Counting...

2008-11-17T11:20:00.000-08:00

The kids have been getting antsy about their visit from the "Big Man" on Xmas Eve. We've heard their hushed conversations about what to ask for, their chances of getting stockings full of coal, we've even shot down Maddie's sly plan to get herself a cell phone - Bypass Mom and Dad and just go straight to Santa (won't work because we'll just talk to Santa ourselves - as grownups, our wishes trump her wishes).

But I had a very interesting conversation with Parker last night regarding his belief in Santa. It wasn't so much that he didn't believe in him as much as it was that he didn't know if he could get behind him still, knowing what he knows.

The conversation went like this:
"Mom, you know Santa?"
"Yeah?"
"How fat is he?"
"Um..."
"Why does he smoke?"
"Wha-?"
"What if I was Santa?"
"What do you mean?"
"If I were Santa, I'd be a good one. Santa, I've heard in some stories, smokes a pipe. And he's fat, too. I can show you." Then he grabs a copy of 'Twas The Night Before Christmas and asks me to read it out loud. He nods and elbows me conspiratorially when I read the passages about him being plump, the bowl full of jelly reference and the smoke encircling his head like a wreath.
"See, Mom. He needs to be healthier. If he didn't smoke and eat so many cookies. If I were Santa, I would never smoke, Mom. But I probably would eat the cookies... But not ALL of them."
"Okay."
"I'm just worried about him."

I can now only imagine what our trip to visit Santa will be like this year. Maddie slipping Cingular ads into his pockets and Parker giving him a physical. Let's hope he doesn't have cavities, that could open a whole new can of worms.

Please Watch. Please Think About It. Please Pass It On!

2008-10-06T20:06:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VhDRVKDcXQo

It's truly our chance to change the world. Pay attention. We all count.

Family...

2008-10-01T14:38:00.000-07:00

Somehow, at some point in my life I must have done something right because I get to laugh and smile with these faces everyday (well, 3 out of 5 of them...).
Everyday!
I am an incredibly lucky, lucky woman.

I Heart Jon Stewart!

2008-09-04T14:14:00.000-07:00

'Nuff said.

http://www.comedycentral.com/videos/index.jhtml?videoId=184086

If you're not enraged...

2008-09-02T08:37:00.000-07:00

Do the Republicans really think that all they have to do to win the female vote is to throw a woman into the race regardless of her ideologies?

As a woman, do you think I am so misinformed and single-minded that all you have to do is throw another chick in the mix and you'll have our support? Have you paid so little attention that you think that is all that mattered to us?

I am insulted and disgusted.

Where has all the summer gone?

2008-08-29T13:01:00.000-07:00

I can tell by my posting frequency that I've been busy, but I where has it gone?

Tonight we find out who the kids' teachers will be for the upcoming year. They are very excited, anxious and ready to see their friends again. I am excited to see how they do, especially Parker. Being gone all day is going to be a big transition for him. He's our guy that swears he's never going to move out of the house and doesn't want to be married because he thinks he'll have to get his own place. He did once say that he would "get a wife" if she would live next door and he wouldn't have to share his room.

Now I have to share both of them for the whole day. It has been a good summer. The kids have their typical fights, but have by and large, been great and reminded me why I am home with them. I wouldn't miss a minute.

Four more days and back to it... Wish us luck!

In a moment of puppy-induced insanity...

2008-08-22T23:00:00.000-07:00

Are we crazy? Is it like labor, how they say you forget the pain and that is the only reason you do it again? Is it the puppy breath? Or the over sized paws she kept tripping over? Maybe the layers of extra skin under that soft fur?

Whatever it was, it worked because we brought home an 8 week old Chocolate lab this week. We named her Harley - I suppose in homage to the bike Eric doesn't have yet. Somehow, naming her Honda after his current ride never came up...

So yes, here were are in the throes of insanity, kennel training and living with this animal that we are fairly certain would eat us alive if we didn't physically remove our extremities from her mouth.

But, man, she's so cute...

Oh so close!

2008-08-21T13:36:00.000-07:00

The good luck kisses didn't work this time...

In the last regular season game, Eric finally did what every adult dreads when they join a sports team - Blew out his knee. Meniscus. It will be a few weeks before he can have surgery and is supposed to be on crutches until then. But do you think he'll use them? Hasn't stopped him from assistant coaching Parker's football team, coaching a fastpitch camp and riding his motorcycle every day.

Best part? We're SURPRISING the kids with a trip to Disneyland next weekend. Eric came home from his Dr. appointment with this announcement:

"Good news and bad news. Bad news is I need surgery. Good news is, I've got a disabled pass to Disneyland."

Find the silver lining where you can, right?

It's not slow-pitch!

2008-07-14T14:05:00.000-07:00

Eric braved his first double-header yesterday in 90 degree heat. It was a long and hot day under all that gear, but he hung in there and only got out from behind the dish for 3 innings. Those were spent in left field, but we won't talk about that. It wasn't pretty and justified his rule #3 in the "Loveriches Don't" list that is constantly being recited to the kids. (Example: Rule #1 Loveriches don't bunt.) Someday we'll have coaches thanking us for instilling such un-coachability in them. Sorry coach, Dad says I can't bunt, play right field, etc... In his defense, "Loveriches don't quit" is #2. And speaking of, check out the souvenir Eric came home with. I went to pat his back after the game and found a half-baseball sized knot inside his right shoulder blade. He'd taken a fastball there early in the 2nd game. "Did it leave a mark?" he asked? I'd say!

Secrets revealed!!!

2008-07-08T14:02:00.000-07:00

I had a friend ask me out-of-the-blue this weekend, "What is your secret?"

Secret what? Identity? Antiperspirant? But seeing the way she waited for my answer, I realized she was giving me what I considered the ultimate compliment. Most of you who know me, know that I am not one to spout off relationship advice or blah-blah about my marriage, but I am proud of us, so having someone recognize that... Well, it was nice.

I told her what I believe to be true - Eric and I have seen each other through a lot of "stuff". All of that created a really strong base. It is a base that will either catch you when you fall, provide a jumping point for us or a home to return to if we've gotten off track.

As I mulled it over this week, I found a few more:

Don't forget how you started. We weren't always waving from separate cars on the highway as we darted kids to different practices and functions.

Honesty (I know, generic and obvious). Not just on the big things, but even, "You know when you (whatever)? That pissed me off." Then try to work it out.

On that same note, be able to apologize. I am not the best at this, but I know I'm better than I used to be. That leads me to my last "secret."

Evolve. None of these may apply in a week. The secret is to be ready for anything and for nothing to look like you thought it would. Trying to plan ahead for emotional experiences is ridiculous.

So that's what I've got, right now. Anyone got a better secret I could pass on?

I left my heart in Lilliwaup

2008-06-30T09:58:00.000-07:00

*As a writer, I was always taught to remove myself from my subject so as to avoid sappy, over-emotional pieces. Sorry. No can do this time. Proceed carefully, this has the potential to go knee deep.

Sleepaway camp seemed like such a great idea in the doldrums of Winter when Maddie and Parker were fighting like cats and dogs, it was pouring rain outside, we'd played 'Sorry' innumerable times, seen every episode of Hannah Montana and our waistlines couldn't stand another cookie-baking-and-decorating activity.

But we dropped Maddie off Sunday for 4 days and 3 nights of Girl Scouting adventure in a picturesque spot at the foot of the Hood Canal - Camp Robbinswold.

The past few days find me attached to my cellphone and when home, toting around that phone, too. I am a wreck! Nighttime has been the worst for all of us. Parker looks out the window and says a prayer for Maddie's safety, Eric and I can't even talk about it, we get lost in books or ESPN and hope to drift off to sleep.

I'm better than day one, where I cried at any mention of Maddie, daughters, Moms, camping, college... You can imagine how fun I was to be around, especially since the house is testosterone central this week. I know this is just the first of many, many, independent adventures for her. We are all looking forward to hearing her stories and seeing her pictures and just having her light in our house again.

As we left, I heard an exchange that I've been replaying all week. She introduced herself to a girl that was there alone (most campers came in pairs): "Hi. I'm Maddie, this is my friend Amy. You should bunk with us. It's going to be awesome!"

You REALLY should write these down...

2008-06-25T18:35:00.000-07:00

Somehow, I've ended up with kids that say and do some of the most outrageous things - even on the scale of kidspeak. Sometimes I think Art Linkletter could have saved himself a lot of time and just come to hang out with Maddie and Parker.

So, the latest experience that has me shaking my head and wondering what I've done to karma happened yesterday at the public swimming pool in front of about 50 parents.

Parker, who has been taking swimming lessons for THREE years now, has just this week decided that he is terrified of the water. Day one of lessons was alright, a little panic, but still had a kickboard to hang on to as he made his way across the pool. After class that day, he grabbed his towel, stood in front of Eric and I and announced, "No kickboards tomorrow. I'm probably just going to drown." (NOTE: He can swim - he has been for 2 summers now. He's forgotten this.)

So after enjoying his "last meal" (a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats), we headed off to his execution. Parker jumped in the pool and immediately popped back up to tell me he wasn't feeling well. "You can do it!" I encouraged from the full bleachers. And he started out. He made it 90% of the way across, literally one of his own body lengths away from the other side, began treading water and yelling that he was drowning(his head never went under water). His teacher shoved him to the wall and he climbed out. Because of the screaming and thrashing, we had the attention of the entire audience.

I pulled out every parenting theory I'd ever heard about. I sat on the deck, hugged, encouraged, cooed at, coaxed, threatened, grounded, everything short of beating him and throwing him back in. All to no avail. So we headed back to sit and watch his class and I told him he was going to have to call his Dad and tell him what happened, this he found the most upsetting. Here we stood in front of the aforementioned full bleachers and Parker began to scream -

"You don't care about me! You want me to die in the pool! You don't care about me at all! You wish I was dead! You don't even love me. You would be happy if I drowned!"

So I've been found out. I had a son just so I could have him killed in the community pool.

As you can imagine, I received SOOO much helpful advice from several parents in the stands and filthy, dirty looks from several others.

Does anyone know when the ballots are available for Mother Of The Year?

NPR: Walking in the Light

2008-06-23T17:49:00.000-07:00

Paul Thorne wrote this essay and read it last Sunday on the NPR program Walking in the Light. Here's link to the essay, but I encourage everyone to listen to it in his voice.
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=91740464

75 Days... not that I'm counting

2008-06-19T17:45:00.000-07:00

We officially have 3rd and 1st graders! Maddie and Parker finished up their school years yesterday.

It is only the first day, but I am wondering if we've made a mistake planning our family vacation for the Fall...

We will get into a groove, I just hope it isn't a rut of arguments and sibling bickering followed by me screaming at the children and kicking them out of the house. Who's with me? Anyone? No?

September 3rd, here we come!

It was colder in Siberia...

2008-06-11T16:52:00.000-07:00

YESTERDAY!!! Yup. 56 here, 61 there. How much of this can we endure? It's such a long, cold Spring, I keep wondering if we can go back and accept that Maryland job... It's mid-June and we still have the hot tub turned up over 100, and it's too cold!

What keeps us going is Eric's reignited baseball "career". Yes, Eric and yes, hardball. He joined the Liberty Bay Pirates this year. It's a national league for 18-50 year old men who don't want to play slow pitch. They've got wood bats and throw-back unis. We've outfitted ourselves with catcher's gear a go-go and he's out there recapturing age 18 again... Maybe with a few more aches and pains, but having fun none the less.

As a matter of fact, they had their first game this weekend and beat the South Kitsap Reds 11-2! Eric, solid as ever, went 3-5 with 2 singles(one was technically an error, but who's technical?) and a double. Fun to watch, fun to see him having such a blast.

He keeps telling me how good it feels to get out there again. Finally, he convinced me to take some batting practice off the machine. Now, it's been 15 years since I've done this. My ever-patient son sat at shortstop loudly whispering, "Strike 8... Strike 9..." Before I told him to shut up. Pathetically, it took me at least a dozen pitches to just tick one off. But then, I did. The first few were grounders that could have been fielded by any SS over 4 1/2 feet tall, luckily we didn't have one of those.

At one point, the kids were talking out in centerfield and I hit one squarely at them and (formerly) secretly took great joy in yelling out, "HEADS!" Then I had a flash back to these babies that I carried and cooed over, protected from all things scary or dangerous, and here I was hitting hardballs at their heads with an aluminum bat. Know what? One week later, still kinda funny. As a side note, always good to let your kids know you have tricks up your sleeve that they would never have imagined. They knew I'd played at some point in my looong life (but who cares what she did before we were born?) but had never seen it. Anyway, it gave me a touch of legitimacy when I boss them around. And it felt good.

Pirates game #2 this Saturday at Snider Park (where the kids play and I used to go watch Eric when we were first dating.) Talk about your trip down memory lane. Wish them luck and loose hamstrings.

Lessons from Parker

2008-06-08T22:00:00.000-07:00

Parker is about a week out of his baseball season and has moved on to being Eric's team's official batboy. Whatever it takes to make the next 9 months pass between seasons. He get to attend his first baseball camp this summer with a group of team buddies from this year and last. He's jazzed beyond belief!

Our boy batted a .791 on the season with only 2 strikeouts in 43 at bats! As excited as Eric is by this number, I feel the wet blanket side of my personality rising up to wonder how long a kid can keep that up? No. No. No. The right response is that he'll only continue to improve, right? :)

He had a lot of fun this year, regardless of wins or losses. It was a lot of fun to watch because on our team, we tended to get a little caught up in scores and wins. But Parker never really cared about that. He celebrated great plays, by both himself and his team equally. He loved a good solid hit, a fast run. He probably walked away from 75% of the games asking, "Did we win? It felt like we won." Not that it mattered. Pretty great attitude, not just for the ball field either...

The Aisle Not Taken

2008-06-04T09:40:00.000-07:00

I ran into a friend yesterday that I hadn't seen in a couple of years. We were very close in high school. We used to have the best time together.

But yesterday, here I was in the grocery store after picking Maddie up from school. Parker had just woken from a nap and I had carried him, shoeless, out to the car. Maddie was looking particularly haggard due to PE and I had just finished mowing the lawn (hadn't changed, blades of grass still stuck to my feet). Isn't this always when you run into someone you haven't seen in a while?

Anyway, she is living this very cool, nomadic sort of life - flying off to find jobs around the world, wherever the mood strikes. She had just returned from one such jaunt and was planning on leaving again in a week or so.

I looked at my cart full of children, fruit snacks, juice boxes and milk and wondered about the paths we all take in life and how two people who had really been close could end up in such unrelatable places. I was a touch jealous at the footloose nature of her life, but Maddie was stroking my fingers as we spoke. It was all good.

We said our goodbyes, with the obligatory we'll-talk-soons and headed off again in our truly different directions.

But before we left the store, I wheeled my sweaty self and grubby kids over to one of the ethnic food sections to buy something for dinner...

We got shot at (Or at least over...)

2008-05-27T15:56:00.000-07:00

We made the yearly Memorial Day trip to the Soap Lake house again in 2008 for the Last Stand Rodeo and a little peace and quiet.

We decided to hit the road after Parker's baseball game Thursday night, which put us at the ferry terminal at 8:30... I'm not young enough or caught up on sleep enough to make night time road trips like we used to do in college. I was insanely crabby and begging for a hotel bed by the time we hit Ellensburg.

There's something about knowing you're going into a house that sits empty 99% of the time (bug and rodent phobia rising) in the dark, having to make beds, check closets, etc before you can settle down... We rolled in at 12:30 (kids awake BTW...)and proceeded into the house as quietly as possible, so as not to wake up the neighbors. Evidently, nothing is quiet enough not to wake said neighbor's dog because within two minutes of our arrival, kids in the house, me dragging sleeping bags and blankies out of the car, Eric and I hear a shot ring out. It went like this:
Me: "What the hell? Is he shooting at us?"
Eric: "Maybe it was a firework."
Me: "I'm getting in the house."
Eric (over the fence to neighbor who has just advanced through his garden with a gun in his hand): "H-h-h-ello Mr. James. It's Eric. M-m-m-ari and Wayne's son."
Mr. James: "Nobody told me you were coming. Shot into the air. Don't want to shoot no one for no good reason."
Eric: "T-t-t-hanks for watching out for the place. G-g-g-ood night, Mr. James."
Eric (to me in the house): "Yup. We were just shot at."

Now, let me sort of justify - this house has been in Eric's family for 50-ish years. It sits in a neighborhood that has had it's ups and downs and it has NEVER been messed with. Largely, I'm now sure, thanks to Mr. James. He watches out for it and now in his 80s (?) takes the shots from his porch, as opposed to coming over and looking who is there first. Not that it's okay that he fired off a round over our heads, but if you're going to have a house that sits empty for most of it's existence, he's the kind of neighbor you want to have.

So that was a first...

Everything else went without issue. Actually, everything after that was GREAT!

Maddie won the stick horse race and $5 for the 8-year-old division(Parker came in 2nd - to his recollection). Best part - the announcer calling the race in Maddie's favor halfway through. She was FLYING!

We had a family putt-putt golf contest. I don't want to brag, but it came down to a playoff hole and there again was a clear one-stroke winner. Since I'm writing this, I'll let you guess who psyched out her opponent at that last, all important hole.

Parker got his first try at fly-fishing and hooked into 2 good sized trout at Rocky Ford! For anyone who's been there, it's not an easy thing to do. Eric landed a few beautiful 24-inch trout himself.

We came across a baseball tournament in Ephrata that provided us hours of fun on Sunday and some REALLY good baseball. Home again, back to the grind. When can we go back?

May 2008 - Undefeated!

2008-05-22T10:54:00.000-07:00

Well, we made it through another softball season. It was a (mostly) great experience. Eric and I coached Maddie's AA Fastpitch team - Swift Plumbing again, to Maddie's dismay. Some of you may remember she had the same sponsor last year and never got over me telling her their hats would be plungers. The team voted to call themselves the Swift Bulldogs... That worked to make everyone feel better.

It was a blast to watch the girls' skills develop over the course of those 2 months. Eric and I decided to really coach - demand the best out of the girls, even if it meant yelling and making them run laps. It really worked. The other coaches said, "We just want them to go have fun." Our argument was, how can they have fun if they don't know what to do? That just creates frustration and anxiety. We gave them the tools, worked on minute mechanics, ran situations until they were asking if we could just go run laps... But come game days, they showed up ready to play. Every single player stepped up to the plate and truly improved. And they were a team because we made them accountable to one another. They cheered each other on from the dugout and on the field. What a cool thing to watch develop!

The season wrapped up last week with our girls going 12-0! Undefeated! It was pretty exciting to see these girls realize their abilities. We decided to coach because Maddie had a coach last year tell us he wasn't going to teach them something because "they're just girls." To Eric and I, they were players and deserved to know what they were doing right and wrong. Was it always perfect? Absolutely not, but they learned and we hope this base that we gave them is something they will be able to build on for years to come. We had 6 of the 13 girls on our team that had never played organized fastpitch before. At the end of the season, 2 of the other coaches accused us of having a "stacked team." Eric got angry because he thought that wasn't giving the girls credit for all of the hard work they'd done. I think that was the ultimate compliment - going from never having played before to having a reputation around the league as All-Stars! You go, girls! Tune in for more on Parker's season...

February - California, here we come!

2008-02-24T09:13:00.000-08:00

The kids and I headed South to Sacramento to get away from the long Winter here in Washington. It was not only weather related, we got to meet the newest addition to the Ruano family - 6 week old Lucas!

Rachel and Raf's house was like a citrus wonderland to our kids. With an abundance of orange and grapefruit trees, we didn't eat much else for the entire first day. Parker's face bore the brunt of the vitamin C O.D. We had to stop him from going out into the yard - he ate so much, he broke out! But even I couldn't lay off the fresh squeezed juice. Yum!

We spent a fun day in "Old Sac." Cruising the wooden sidewalks, checking out the old buildings, a "wild west shootout", the saltwater taffy store and some giant ice creams rounded out our first day.

We woke up the next morning Parker woke up with a 103' fever. That's always nice to do to a family with a newborn. Maybe we should have let him keep going with the oranges...

Regardless, we drugged him up and Raf treated us to a grand tour of San Francisco. The kids had an absolute blast at the Exploratorium. A pumped up science center that provided even a sick kid with 3 hours of fun! From there it was onto the marina district to get a view of Alcatraz - which the kids were well versed on thanks to Scooby-Doo Meets the San Fran-Psycho. This lead to a lot of questions about failed jailbreaks, why, where did they end up? Who wants to go to Fishermen's Wharf?

Here the kids got to ride on the double-decker merry-go-round and meet their first celebrity impersonator - Forrest Gump. They didn't quite get it, having not seen the movie, and especially that Mom encouraged them to take candy from this stranger's box of chocolates.

All in all it was a great long weekend. The kids loved spending time with Mati and singing songs with him (Wheels on the Bus again and again). Parker, feeling better, got to chase a flock of wild turkeys (turns out they don't defend themselves as geese would), Maddie got her hair done by someone who could actually make a french braid, Mom got to snuggle up baby Lucas and visit with her good friends. A fun time had by all. But we all missed Daddy and were glad to be home with him again.

Another Year Older...

2008-01-29T12:47:00.000-08:00

January... In our house, we turn to a new calendar year and a new personal year for Eric and me. In the last week and a half, Eric and I turned 33. I like to mull over my resolutions until my birthday, then put the plan into action. Why do we always make resolutions self punishments? I've done the diet one plenty of times, but always get to Dec. 31st with the same size pants. This year, I'm changing my resolutions. I'm making them things that may not slim my waistline, but will definitely lighten my load. So here they are, in no particular order, my resolutions for 2008:

Laugh more - This is going to require me not taking things too seriously. Help me to accept the things I cannot change, recognize the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. As Parker says, "Don't make mountains out of molecules."
Make time - We are surrounded by truly great friends and so much family, we should be immersed in them. Yet somehow, we allow time to pass without seeing one another for weeks and months. Even if it is just ordering pizza and sharing a bottle of wine? Why not just do it? I'm gonna.
Be a duck - I spend more time worrying about the dog hair on my floor and what people would say about the dust bunnies that migrate out from under my furniture. I'm not pledging not to clean, that's just an example. But not to lose sleep over the little things that people will judge you on that are sometimes just out of your control and not really a true representation. A mantra quote from Dr. Seuss - "Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind." What I know for sure, is that we're all crashing and careening though this life for the first time. I may not do it the way you like, and you may not do it the way I like, but we're all here, so let's just watch the elbows. (And for those of you who didn't get the "duck" reference... just stop reading my blog. You're not going to get a lot of stuff...)
Finally... moisturize. I'm 33. It's necessary.

Happy new year, everyone. It's my 33rd and I'm just really starting to enjoy the ride.