A brand new day

It's almost a new year. V brought home flowers which was a sweet touch We toasted with sparkling cider (Mia opted for orange juice, claiming the sparkling cider was "so yucky". I made us all hunch over the counter so I could attempt to use the automatic feature on the camera. Attempt is the appropriate word. We cheered to a new beginning. A fresh start. While I believe every day is a new beginning, a new opportunity to better yourself, there is something undeniably special about cracking the spine of a new year. I read somewhere that there are two types of people - those who see this day as the closing out of a year and those that see it as ringing in a new year.

I fall into the latter category. I am embracing the new; my gaze is forward.

Cheers to you and yours. Happy New Year.

Finding your light

I just like this picture of Luca playing in the square of light. He was moving his hand in and out of it, watching his shadow.

It's the little things, isn't it?

The Christ

Mia likes to pray before meals now. Her Catholic preschool is having a big impact on her.

We were eating lunch and Mia began the prayer, as per usual. I was quietly saying it along with her, more interested in the veggie burger that sat before me truth be told.

"Louder Mama. The Christ can't hear you!" she demanded. I snapped to attention and began the prayer louder.

"Better" she said.

She also wrote "the Christ" a thank you note for Christmas. Just for the whole experience of it all. I thought that was such a classy touch and I'm sure the Christ appreciated the gesture. Thank you notes are always well received I explained to Mia.

I told her to sign my name too. This Christmas was pretty beautiful. Worthy of a note for sure.

A moment at the cleaners

Here's something to try this year.

Go easy on people.

Just be good to them.

Don't be an asshole, as my Dad so eloquently would say.

I was dropping off V's dry cleaning and the older Korean woman who owns the shop doesn't know me really. She knows V. She asked me to spell my name and so I began.

P. E. L. L. E. G

"Z?" she says. "Like zebra?" Her accent so thick I was having a hard time understanding her.

"No. G. Not Z. No zebras. G."

She ran through every letter that rhymes with G - E, T, C, D, P - all the while me shaking my head and saying, "No. No. G. Like Giraffe. You know G?" I was hunched over her counter trying to help her find the letter on her keyboard - the awkward slope preventing me from really finding any letters at all.

She asked again, "Z? Zebra? Stripes? Zebra?"

I began wildly gesticulating with my hands. "No. No. Giraffe. A different wild animal. You can find them at the zoo. Long necks. I was moving my hands to show how long the necks were, which probably looked like I was engaging in some kind of phalic sign language.

I finally found the G on the keyboard and she smiled. "Ahh...G."

When she finished with spelling my name, our transaction history popped up on her screen and she lit up, nodding furiously. "Ahhh....husband nice guy." Yes, I said. Everyone does love V.

We finished the exchange and she told me in broken phrases about an 85 year old man who works at the grocery store lifting boxes to stay engaged. To stay mobile. I barely made out the story, or it's relevance, but was able to piece it together with some time.

I gave her time.

That's all she needed was just a few extra minutes.

I smiled and told her that her story was powerful. We all need to feel engaged. Mobile. We all need to feel accepted. We all need to feel our worth. Our weight on others.

We all need to feel alive.

Even if it takes us a bit longer to make connections or express our thoughts.

She screamed HAPPY NEW YEAR at me as I left and I looked back at her. Her quilted pants bunchy around her waist. Her back bent from stooping over a counter. Her little old fingers a bit knobby already. But God damn it she was smiling. Broadly and brightly.

You too, I said over my shoulder.

Make it a good one, I said.

I drove home slower. Ate slower. Listened more closely that day.

Just give people some time.

Baby Mama

Mia might just be a better mother than I am.

She has two babies now. Mckenna has been with us for a year and Laura, Santa's sweet gift, is the newest addition to the family. Mia named both girls and tends to them lovingly. She'll have conversations with me while jostling one on her shoulder or against her hip. She'll stop mid sentence to say, "Wow. This one's fussy today!" or "I barely slept last night. The babies were up a lot."

They get changed every day, swimming in whatever old clothes Mia can find for them. Their little plastic faces peeking out from size 2T shirts and dresses. Mia rocks them. Feeds them - sometimes perching herself on the couch to nurse one of them while saying, "I'm only going to feed from one side right now. I don't think she's that hungry."

She reads all of my mothering cues. She listens to what I say, and how I say it. All of my actions are being catalogued away so she can mimic them with her own babies, both present and future. (She tells me she wants 5 children. 8 boys and 6 girls. Her math isn't on target yet but I'm supportive of her desire to repopulate the planet with her curls and charm.)

Tonight, I had Mia in the bathtub and Luca in his crib. He can see into the tub from his crib and he was furious that I wasn't letting him hold the side of the bath like I usually do. He likes to watch Mia in the water and squeals with every splash. I find it hard to wash her hair, while making sure he doesn't knock out his new teeth against the metal shower door railing as he gnaws on it while balancing on his tippy toes so I thought tonight I would go easy on myself. Rather than manning a floating and slippery toddler and a squirmy tubside baby, I would just endure his angry hollers while I shampooed with relative ease.

Needless to say, I was stressed. Frazzled. I was wishing the moment away. Wanting it to be 7:45, so I could type in a quiet corner in Mia's room with Luca sleeping soundly in his.

Just a few moments ago, Mia crawled into her bed with her babies in tow. We were snuggling in to read and she told me how crabby Mckenna is today. I began to identify; I said, "Oh wow. You must be getting tired eh? A fussy baby can be frustrating."

She looked at me and most genuinely said, "No. I don't mind it. Babies can be fussy. It's o.k. She'll calm down and then we'll all be asleep."

I felt a pang of guilt. Why does my three year old have more patience than I do at times? I wrestled with the thought for a few minutes before remembering that catalogue of hers. That catalogue that's full of my comments and my movements. The guilt began to slip away because I realized that Mia's memory consists mostly of my good moments. Not my frazzled ones. She's mimicking my best. And kindly forgiving me for my worst.

If she can forgive me, I can forgive myself.

Which is a nice segue way into my new year's resolution.

FORIGVE MYSELF.

(More on that next time.)

Christmas 2009!

Christmas 2009 is ready to be packed up, but not happily. Mia asked, "Why can't today be Christmas too?" over breakfast this morning.

The passage of time is a tough thing to explain to a three year old. I don't even understand it yet, so I can't articulate it to a toddler.

Our day yesterday was lovely. So mellow. A tad unconventional. Quiet. Perfect.

We ate breakfast together after we opened Santa's goodies and watched as Mia played with her new toys and Luca followed her around, drippy nose and drool threatening to ruin several new items. We laid in pajamas, listened to music, and didn't think about anything on a normal day's to do list. We then hit a Jewish deli for some soup for lunch and it was warm and easy, two of my favorite things. The day was capped off with an outrageous dinner at my mom's house with Emily and Co. Mia and Hadley set up a zoo with their new toys and Emily, Mom, and I huddled together with our wine glasses and swapped stories and laughs while Peter and V entertained the littlest men of our family, Luca and Finn. It was so comfortable and relaxed. A very merry Christmas indeed.

I think I agree with Mia. Why can't today be Christmas?

Here we come 2010!

Twas the night before Christmas

They are snug in bed, one aware of the fabled generous spirit riding in his sleigh as I type this very entry, and the other blissfully clueless. I dressed them in their Christmas jams and Luca promptly spit up on both of them. Bright orange. (Yams were on the menu tonight.) Mia normally would have shrieked in horror and rushed to change, but tonight, she didn't. She lovingly told him that it was o.k. She told him that he would still be on the "nice list", even with this incident on his report.

Merry wishes to everyone for a beautiful Christmas.

Better than a gym

I'm on a mission to get fit. When I need some motivation, I'll put Luca on my knees and crunch up to meet him eye to lovely eye. Today, I captured the face that will motivate me to a flat stomach.

Behold Luca.

Accidental Art

Mia spilled some yogurt today. She said, "Mom, I just spilled a little yogurt....and I'm glad I did." When I asked why, she said, "Look at it. It's a snowman. That's perfect because it's snowy here right now."

By God dear girl, you are right. A snowman splatted right on the floor by sheer accident.

I thought for a minute about all of the beauty, the art, and the magic that happens just by chance.

Every single day a snowman of one kind or another spills into my life and when I don't notice it, I love it when someone else can point out the awesome nature of accidental art.

Old School

Some things are best left unchanged.

All of the new technology, advances, opportunities for growth, techniques to optimize, methods to streamline development....

Sometimes it's just overwhelming.

Sometimes you just need to get back to the basics. Like a bath in the kitchen sink.

Cheers to simplifying life.

Old news is still good news

While you may be getting bored of the fact that Luca can now stand and "walk" a bit while holding on to things, he hasn't tired of that news yet.

I love a kid who can smile because of the simple pleasures.

(Bijou is waiting patiently behind Luca, as she always does, to either make sure he doesn't fall, hurt himself, put something in his mouth that he shouldn't or in hopes that he will drop a peanut butter sandwich out of his back pocket. Keep dreaming Bijou.)

The big guy in red

We did it. We had a successful trip to see Santa.

The past two years have involved tears and memories of a giant scary man. But this year was different. We stumbled upon the most fantastic secret in Denver. Santa was set up with his sleigh in a cozy nook downtown. There was no line. Literally. Just a few happy quiet kids were traipsing through the square as we were greeted by Mrs. Claus. It was a bit magical. Mia was thrilled and eagerly sat on his lap, explaining to him that she wanted baby doll things. Luca's little lip quivered once but then I think he caught sight of the glittery things on Santa's jacket and he was soothed. The best part? The whole experience was free. Not a cent. I think that's what made it so special, almost real. You took your own photos as proof that the whole thing really did happen. Now that's a Santa I can get behind. We are TEAM SANTA here now.

And this is what I found...

I think I've mentioned that Luca is pulling up to a standing position, and crawling like a maniac all over the place. Right? I went in to get him from his nap, and this is what I found. I heard him first, slapping his little hands against the wood railing - beating it rather. I also discovered little teeth marks along that very same railing. Like a beaver, he thought he might be able to gnaw his way free. He was squealing with delight and shrieking with glee at his noise making abilities.

This kid is all over the place, in the best of ways.

I've said it before. Watch out world.

The Gate is Up

I'm just wondering if it would be o.k. if I removed all small objects from the floor, closed the the doors to the laundry and bath rooms, asked Mia to "babysit", and then went to the movies. Do you think the gate can hold them back for a few hours?

Language of Love

I made this little video today and it is such a snapshot of my life. The house in slight disaray. The dog following me around with a dishrag (not her usual choice of dirty underwear or socks). Luca busy and talking. Mia nowhere to be seen because she is somewhere with glue, scissors, my lipstick, or stickers.

Luca shouts and talks all of the time now. All. Of. The. Time. Like the husband and wife duo who own the Asian market where V and I buy our tea, I can't tell if Luca is angry at me when he's shouting, or professing his deep deep love. I always stare at the husband and wife duo, as they shout at each other in the store, their intonation so foreign from ours in English. I can never tell if he's telling his wife how much he adores her, or how much he loathes her.

Luca is also pulling up to a standing position now, and taking a few steps. God help me. I could barely get Mia out of the tub before Luca had pulled himself up to the side and was walking along - all to watch his big sister.

Graduate

Mia has graduated from her swim class. She's on to the next level now. A Goldfish. She's gone from being a landlubber to being a tried and true water girl. Her official graduation photo is with a pink noodle. Makes me kind of regret the whole cap and gown decision back in my days of being a student. I should have posed with a noodle. So cute and cheeky. Check out her moves on the video.

Saying it out loud

I sit in Mia's room for a bit after I shut out the lights and put away our bedtime books. It's just our routine. Our way. I sit in her rocking chair, and she sits in her bed. The hallway light angles in on us, just enough light to read, but barely. If I'm reading a book, I'll read that for a bit. If it isn't a book, it's the laptop. I sit and read or write. Mia sits and thumbs through books and murmurs things to herself about characters or story lines. We sit together, yet on our own. She'll casually toss the last of her little stack on the floor and say, "Good night Mom. Love you" and flop onto her pillow. That's it. She doesn't get up. She doesn't ask for a snack or another book. She doesn't ever ask to get out of bed. She just drifts off to sleep, falling into the night as the sound of my laptop keys hum from her corner.

Tonight was no different. But I stayed longer in her room than usual. I knew she was asleep, but I was comfortable on her chair. I felt relaxed. At peace.

To say this holiday business has been getting to me is an understatement. It has been a whirlish few weeks of the usual chaos and confusion of the time leading up to Christmas. Even when I told myself I wouldn't let it get to that. I have been stressed. A tad anxious. Busy. Maybe slightly annoyed. Less patient. Less present.

But tonight, as Mia read her books and I thumbed through my sites online, I heard Mia say, "I'm so excited for Christmas. I wish it were tomorrow." She said it to her books, not to me. She said it to herself, just a quiet little yearning, but so powerful she said it aloud and not just in her head.

I think that's all I needed to ground me just a bit. I just needed a little reminder of the magic of twinkling lights and glittery stars hanging from our tree. I needed a reminder that, alas, this season isn't about me, no matter how often I want to throw myself on the ground and scream, "What about me?" I just needed a reminder that the season is what you make of it.

Snapshot

A quick photo of our lady lunch in Boulder. Highly recommend "The Kitchen", the groovy restaurant on Pearl Street. But, I more highly recommend dining with these girls if you get a chance. You won't regret it.

Coming Home

I realized I'm a bit homesick.

Maya Angelou once said she longs, like every human being, to be at home wherever she finds herself.

I guess I've been missing myself in some ways. But over the past few days, I'm rekindling a relationship with that girl I so love to be with, me, and I feel like I'm coming home.

I drove to Boulder to meet some old besties for lunch. As I drove over the crest with my beloved town sitting in the valley, my mountains reaching and stretching above, my heart skipped a beat. My trails were in those foothills. My songs were on my stereo. My people were waiting for me. I was home.

I walked into my yoga studio today, unrolled my mat and that familiar sound - the hushed cracking sound as the mat hits the hardwoods - felt like a murmur of a loved one. I pulled myself into my practice. I was home.

I listened to my music. And was home. Sipped my tea. And was home. Shopped for food that I plan to take time to really cook with thought and love. Home.

I have plans to meet up with bookclub this week for cocktails. I have a feeling, you guessed it, I'll be home. Another few dates with special, smart, and fiercly funny lady friends are just around the corner. They too, will carry me home.

Even now, as I write, as I think, as I ponder big issues, and daydream about my date night with V when we can hash out the world's problems over an appetizer and a drink...I'm home.

When you are feeling frenzied. And lost. Rushed. Hurried. Absent minded. Anchor yourself to who you are. Remember what makes you feel tingly. What makes you tick. Get of your house.

Go home.

Christmas Song Fest

Mia performed last night at her preschool. This was her big debut, and she looks as about excited to be doing this as she would if she were asked to walk the plank. In the freezing cold. Naked.

Alas, she wasn't indeed naked. Instead, she wore a darling plaid skirt with her signature bow. All the kids were adorable and some future super stars were in the mix.

All in all, it was a fun night. As a parent, you wait for evenings like these, to see your child standing helplessly on a bright altar, singing. While the whole thing is a bit chaotic, it's a moment in her life that's important. She faced fears, knew we were there cheering her on, and then stood in a God awful long line in a church meeting room to get a crumbly white cookie and punch with ice cream floating in it. It was a homemade kind of night. Nothing fancy. Nothing expensive. But full of heart.

My favorite part of the show? The very end, when she sweetly claps along with the audience, presumably excited that she had made it. She had done her job. That she could get off of the altar and eat sweets until she felt a bit queasy.

The Money Tree

It is believed that these trees, which can grow to be about 6 ft. tall, bring good luck to those who own them. They are hardy plants. Easy to care for. Not very picky about light and water. My kind of greenery.

Just about 7 years ago, my parents brought us a tiny little money tree, only about five inches high, with no leaves yet. It was a house warming gift. We sat in our living room and ate pizza on the floor as boxes loomed in the corners. Our first meeting with the money tree wasn't very feng shui, something these plants are supposed to be sensitive to. I'm surprised this exotic little creature, who I have deemed to be a female, decided to stay, and thrive. Seasons passed and this little girl grew into quite the monster. I would occasionally turn her pot toward the sunlight when she started to tilt this way or that. V and I have taken turns tending to her needs through the years, sometimes the responsibility falling to me, sometimes to V. It was always a silent changing of the guard with nothing ever being discussed except for a quick "Are you watering her now?" followed by, "Yes...for about a year or so." She's quiet. Totally easy going. Which I guess is a recipe asking to be taken for granted.

Her leaves started to brown lately. My mother's voice rang in my head, "Aren't you going to repot that money tree? It is desperate for a bigger pot." Which is true. She is taller than 3 ft. now. Quite impressive.

We never repotted her though. I just kept spinning her around on the marble pedestal on which she sits. Spinning and hoping some new light would fix her. Make her better.

V walked into the room the other day, holding her, his face and upper body completely hidden by her stalky limbs, and mentioned that he was just going to get rid of her. Tired and hungry, I nodded. "Fine" I said. My dad's easy laugh flashing in my mind, as I remembered the day he came over to our new house bearing this gift. "A money tree!" he had said. "You'll be rich before you know it!"

V put the money tree in the garage and left her there, unable to really commit to getting rid of her. I walked past her there several times, leaving to and from the house, carting Mia wrapped in her winter boots and hat, and Luca, completely hidden under a fleece burka. I noticed she was a fighter, braving the cold in the garage, fighting for her pretty pedestal by the window.

I caved and carried her back in one evening, whispering that I was sorry, that I was tired when I conceded. I frantically tore at her brown leaves, trying to prune her back to her former self. She's a bit more bare, but still green and alive. She is perched back where she belongs and somehow, I feel she forgives me. Forgives us.

V climbed into bed and said, "You saved her."

"Yeah" was all I could eek out. I felt silly explaining that she was a link in some weird way to my dad. To my mom. To the me before the me I am now. I felt stupid admitting that she was a part of this house. A part of us. I felt ridiculous confessing the guilt I felt for leaving her in the garage because she required more of me than I felt I could give, and the only thing she was quietly pleading was a mindless trip to the nursery for a bigger pot.

"If you hadn't done it, I was going to" V whispered back.

And so she sits, back where she belongs, quietly bridging our pasts with our futures, and quite obviously still bestowing good luck that toddles about our feet.

A Photo Spread

Sitting up, crawling up, pulling up, spitting up....you seeing a pattern here? Just some photos from the past few days.

In the spirit of things

The tree is up. Mia decorated it and we ended up with most ornaments hanging from one limb just about three feet off of the ground. I went in to do damage control after she went to bed. I rearranged the ornaments all around the tree in order to rescue the one branch burdened by the weight of every decoration we own. The next morning Mia casually looked at the tree and said, "Nice work decorating the tree Mom. Looks good." Apparently her Christmas spirit isn't as fragile as I thought it would be; she wasn't offended at all. Luca managed to get into every box, ribbon, and stocking in the house. Bijou ate something and threw up. And two glass ornaments broke, shattering into hundreds of shards of glass on the floor. A bit nerve wracking because of a certain someone who is going for his black belt in crawling.

Everything is under control now though. Cards are out (that's a lie, they aren't, but they are almost out). House smells like a Grand Fir. Christmas music is playing in the background.

A lot to be grateful for this season. Every season really. But this one is abuzz with good feelings and energy.

Tis the Season

To give is to receive. That's my theme this Christmas season. Today officially marks the first day of advent. I like the whole idea of a period of preparation. For me, this year, it's a period of time to focus on giving. That being said, the big question I'm pondering is how I can give meaningful gifts that are still minimal. My quest to streamline my gift giving isn't an attempt to save money; it's more of a journey to discover what the art of giving really means. What is more valuable: my time, my energy, my thought, my sincerity? I guess all of it. So how can I fit all of these valuable things into one box? One gift?

I've never been a great gift giver. I always seem to buy the wrong thing, or guess the wrong size. I haven't mastered the art of finding the perfect something at just the right time. I think I've come to realize that my problem all along has been that I've been giving the gift without the effort and sincerity wrapped in with the package.

So this season I decided to take what I think I do sort of well, which is create environments, and make that my gift, or at least a part of it. I hung my advent calendar this year for Mia. I carefully filled bags with small treats, small tokens of my affection and numbered each bag. I hung them and decided the anticipation, the fun display, the act of opening a small bag knowing that a teeny bit of goodness will be inside of it, IS the gift, more than the actual material item.

Here is to a season of less crap and more thought. Less consumption and more consideration. Less stress and more moments of gratitude, of which there are too many to really even count.

Here is to a season of warmth and health to my most favorite lady out there too - my mom.

Speaking of Bijou...

Bijou stayed with Emily, Peter, Hadley and Finn while we were in AZ. This is the e-mail and photo I got from Emily.

So when I first saw this I said "You guys, please do not put clothes on the poodle. It's cruel and she does not like it."But before I removed the dress I had to take a picture.She's wearing a vintage dress with poodles on it. I mean, that's funny,right? Love you.No more dressing up your dog, I promise.

An open love letter

Bijou,
Just a note to say that I love you. There is a special spot in my heart for just you. You watch me running all around day after day after day, and you never ask me for anything. (Well, that's not entirely true. Sometimes you greet me with a pair of dirty underwear at 2:00 in the morning and your tail wagging - you want to play.) You endure ear pulling and rice thrown and then buried in your hair. You endure kids using you as a pillow. You endure us sometimes saying, "We love you too Bij" from across the room as we pull babies from carseats and in and out of cribs and beds.

I look forward to their bedtime so that I can read, watch TV, reflect on the day, but most importantly, to dote on you. You will always be my first. You were the puppy I pulled into bed with us on your first night (against V's wishes) and you have faithfully stayed. You were the one who nursed me through heartbreak and loss, pregnancy, childbirth, countless feelings of insecurity/inadequecy.....You've seen it all - faithfully cuddled next to me.

Life has changed. And I adore you for changing with it all. While it may not seem like it at times, I am signing off with words I most honestly mean....

Faithfully and lovingly yours,
Meg

A lot has changed in a week!

It's official, Luca can now crawl to his sister to bug her. Buckle your seatbelt. This ride might get a bit bumpy.

Thanksgiving 2009 - The Nonna in Arizona

Thanksgiving in Arizona with Nonna, Uncle Mike, and Miriam (Mimzie) was a wild success. It was gorgeous weather (Swimming outside on Thanksgiving weekend? Yes please.) Mia loved hanging with her cousin Mimzie (11 years old) and adopted saying such things as "This is so AWESOME!" and "Mom, get out. Mimz and I are playing. And close the door on your way out!" The beauty of Mia hanging out with this particular tween is that this one doesn't roll her eyes, say inappropriate things, or think adults are uncool. Contrary to most tweens, Mimz says things like, "I'm having a hard time using the word 'ingenuity' to describe someone. Oh wait. Oh yeah. 'Ingenious'", followed by a super darling giggle. Mimz gets the super star award for playing with Mia and enduring a lot of three year old petting and hugging.

We all hung out, ate our weight in Nonna made food, and visited the Desert Museum, which is really a fascinating museum (where Mimz tried on bat ears) and Mia carted her heavy little backpack all around like an old pro.

Let's not kid ourselves here though. Traveling with small children is difficult, even when said small children are rock stars (seriously, we have good good good kids.) Kids are routine oriented, hungry often, heavy to hold, needing the bathroom at the WORST times, prone to carrying around a bunch of unnecessary crap, and really not even proficient at expressing themselves. BUT, I have to say, something about this trip was really meaningful. Maybe because it was our first trip as a family of four. Maybe because I've matured and really enjoy seeing V so happy to be around his family. Maybe because I like pushing myself to the limits of sanity, and saying I survived gracefully. Maybe because I've actually discovered that good times aren't always quiet and civilized. They are usually a bit exhausting filled with a few tears, some band aid applications and a lot of moments that I think "Wow. I'm fulfilled. Really." Who knows why this trip was really nice, but it just was. All the heavy crap. The odd requests for bathrooms. The screaming tendinitis in my left wrist as I held a dangling toddler through two airports. The two sleepless nights when Luca decided coo and smile for 8 straight hours at me in bed (seriously, no crying, just cooing and smiling....life could be worse.)It was all worth it.

Luca can clap now too. Save your applause, the milestones just keep coming. I have a feeling I'll be posting about a new one every day or so.