Sharing A Smile

I love life sometimes.

The kind of love that fills your whole body with tingles. When you can't stop smiling and you don't even know why.

The last few days I've been filled with a kind of joy that is surprising. I think entering the Christmas season definitely has something to do with it but it's not all.

It also has to do with taking chances.  Taking chances on people. Opening yourself and your heart to strangers and seeing them surprise you by returning your kindness.  Seeing the good in people and the power of kindness.

I'm glad that I'm still able to do that. Even with my cynicism and sometimes jaded attitude about the world, once in a while I let my guard down and am surprised by the goodness of people and the world.

I send you a big smile and hug!

:)

An Indescribable Love

Sometimes I can't believe how much I love my kids.

It's not like any kind of love that I have known before. Nothing compares to it, not the love for my parents, siblings or husband.

And that's not an easy thing to say because I love these other people in my life dearly. But it's true.

It's a kind of love that is truly frighting because it consumes me entirely. Sometimes when they're in my arms or I look at them I wonder how this kind of feeling is possible. It's indescribable.

With this kind of attachment, however, comes a heavy burden. The burden of a parent. The worry, the suffering for their suffering, the paralyzing fear of the what-ifs, the heart wrenching ache in the core of your being when the bad times comes for them.

But there is also the joy that you feel at the smallest moments, their smile, their happiness, their success, their feeling of safety when they're in your arms.

Sometimes I think my heart can't take it, like it will erupt from the pressure of what I feel for them. But I'm also so grateful for that feeling.

It makes me feel more alive than I do at any other moment in my life.

When I'm Most Happy

I've been thinking a lot about happiness the last few weeks. About what truly makes me happy. The kind of happiness that brings peace. That makes you feel calm inside. Content. Centered. Solid.

So what can bring me this kind of happiness? The question has baffled me over the years. Many times I thought I'd found it. That one thing that makes me happy and fills me up. Finding a man that loves me and I love. Yes that did and still does make me happy. Being successful. Making money. Being creatively challenged. Getting to a place where I'm happy with my body. Yes, all these make me happy (when I can achieve them from time to time) and are all wonderful in their own way.

But I still have those nagging doubts that pop up once in a while and keep me from feeling at peace with myself. Maybe that is just life. The good and the bad. The ying and the yang. Maybe I'm destined to never truly feel the kind of calm that I only see in beautiful old paintings.

Or that's what I thought until recently. I've realized that the time that I feel the most calm, self assured, fulfilled, centered is when I am being the kind of mother that I'm proud of. When I love my children, take care of them, be with them, grow with them, and sacrifice for them the way that I am proud of.

That is the time that I am most happy.

Listen To Your Body!

Putting my kids to bed is always filled with some kind of drama.  Whether it's the brushing the teeth, the reading of the thousand books, the lights, or the repeated I need waters.   It's always something.

But last night, we got a little surprise drama that we didn't expect.

We had just put our four year old son in bed and were about to breath a sigh of relief when we heard that dreaded door open and those little footsteps coming towards our room.

"I can't sleep!"

"Go back to bed."  Take son to bed, put him in, kiss him goodnight.

Five minutes later.  Door, footsteps, "I can't sleep!"  Take him to bed,  kiss him goodnight.

Another five minutes, same thing. "I can't sleep!"

"This is the last time I'm telling you, go back to sleep!"  

"But I can't sleep!"

Then I thought I would try something new.

"You know what, you say you can't sleep but if you listen to your body carefully you'll hear that your body is telling you that it's tired.  Like right now, you see how you keep yawning?  That's your body telling you that you want to sleep!  You need to listen to your body.  Now, go back to bed."

He looked at me for a few minutes and thought about what I said.  Then he turned around and went back to his room.  

I'm so clever I thought to myself.  I reasoned him back to bed!  Yeah for me.

But five minutes later, we heard the familiar sounds again- door, footsteps, and then:

"Mommy, my body is telling me that I need to sleep in your bed for a little bit!"

"What?  I told you not to come out here again?"

"But you told me to listen to my body and my body is telling me that I need to sleep in your bed for a little bit!"

"GO BACK TO BED!"

Then my son starts crying and saying the following repeatedly, 

"but...my...body...is...telliinnng...me...(sniff sniff) that...I.need to sleep in your bed for a little (loud crying with lots of tears for the finally!) BIT!!!"

I start laughing hysterically.  I can't stop.  I'm shaking I'm laughing so hard.  I lift him up and carry him back to his bed all the while still laughing (as he's crying and telling me about his body's need to sleep in our bed).

I kiss him goodnight.

That's the last we hear from him until morning.  

I guess his body didn't need to sleep in our bed after all!

Facebook Status Intimidation

I've recently had a really hard time coming up with witty status updates on Facebook.

I don't know why but I've developed a phobia of the status function.  I used to post stuff all the time....Anastasia is:

...going to the park with her boys.

...wonders when this rain is going to end.

...loves watching the boys on their bicycles. 

...is so excited to go on her girls night out!

and I thought these were great.  But then slowly over time I started to notice how funny and witty other people's status' were.

Those few sentences delighted, entertained or informed everyone.  They were great observations or funny commentaries on life.  Mine, not so much.  I suddenly realized how totally ordinary my status updates were.  I started posting less and less of them.  I just couldn't think of anything that could compare.  I stood on the sidelines and watched the few active status updaters gets more prolific.  One was better than the next until suddenly it was like a status update play off ever time I got on.

How could I compete with that?  

I get on and think, come on, you can do it!  Be funny, be witty, be edgy!

Anastasia is...

-out of things to say.

-doesn't give a rat's bum what anyone else is.

-wishes she could say something that was even mildly amusing.

-wonders how she could possibly join tweeter when the Facebook status is already way too intimidating.

Nahhhhh!  I don't think I'll try any of these.

Maybe I'm not intimidated.  Maybe I'm just over the whole Facebook thing.  It could happen, right?

Dinner Time Laughs

"I said it's dinner time." I tell him for the millionth time.


No movement from the four-year-old on the couch.


"Come to the table now!"


Nothing.


"OK, I'm going to count to three - one, two..."


He comes running to his chair. Thank goodness the one-two-three thing still works. The punishment if I get to three is sitting on the stairs for four minutes. Not that painful but he still hates it and will generally comply with my demands if he things I'm serious about the "stairs."


So he's finally at the table for dinner. But he's not happy about it.


"I'm not hungry!" He declares.


"That's fine, you don't have to eat but you will have to stay at the table while mommy, daddy and B (baby brother) are finished eating!" I say authoritatively.


He starts to eat.


I'm smiling inside. I'm so proud of myself for sticking to my guns and making sure he follows the dinner rules. Then suddenly he says to himself.


"Grown ups are so boring!"


Now I'm laughing OUT LOUD.


If he thinks we're boring at four years old, what is he going to think of us when he's a teenager?

Just Do It Does Have A Nice Ring To It!

I never really got Nike's whole "Just Do It" slogan.

Just go running? Just exercise? Uhhhh, I don't think so. I was never into just doing any of those things and I'm still not.

So every time I saw a Nike ad or commercial with that logan, I tuned it out thinking that it was meant for other people.

But recently, I find myself saying those words over and over again. Just do it!

Just write.

Just create.

Just try something new.

Just keep at it. Don't give up. Don't be scared of failure and ridicule.

Just close your eyes and DO IT!

It seems like in life more than half the battle of doing anything is the just-doing-it part. But that's also the hardest part.

Especially as we get older, it's harder and harder to "just do it." We get set in our ways, we don't have time, we don't the will, we don't feel like it's appropriate to take such risks, we feel old, we are afraid of looking stupid, we start to lose faith in ourself and a hundred other things that keep us from just doing the things that we only dream about.

But then some of us oldies (you know who you are!!!) get a little fire in our belly and we say to hell with it, we're just going to try it. We very well might fail but who gives a damn.

At least we tried!

Seeking Pockets of Silence

I've never been good at silence.

I always try to avoid it somehow, if not with the necessary parts of family life then with music or TV.  

I don't know what it says about me that I can't just be.  I can't just sit in silence and breath without desperately wanting to fill that space with something...anything!

I was recently in a situation, however, where I couldn't fill that space with anything.  No internet, no person to talk to, nothing to read, no phone, no music, no TV, nothing.  So there I was, just with my thoughts.  And even though I didn't want to be there, I found it surprisingly freeing.  

Being forced to listen to nothing but your own breathing.  To look at nothing but the trees outside.  To feel nothing but your own cloths against your skin.  

And with passing moment you feel more calm.  With each breath, you release some part of yourself that needed to do something.  

Then you start to listen to yourself.  Your center.  And you realize that it is in moments like these that you can really hear yourself.  Your pain, your joy, your regrets, your hopes, your own truth.

So even though it is not January, I would like to make a resolution for the rest of the year.  I would like to find pockets of silence in my life and instead of fearing those pockets, I would like to embrace them.  

Revel in them.  

And maybe, just maybe, even enjoy them.

A Word To The Wise

There is a beautiful place in the blogesphere filled with women that started a blog for the sole purpose of speaking to their children.  To children that are years away from being able to read let alone understand the words that their mom is expressing on a regular basis on the world wide web.  Some of these women started their blogs while pregnant so that they could share with their unborn child how their child’s life began in their mother’s womb.  Many of these blogs are only read by a few family members and friends but they are some of the loveliest words you will ever read.  They are heartwarming, honest, sad, strong and beautiful.  

These children will have recorded thoughts and memories from their mother waiting for them when they are ready to read them.  

The different between these blogs and traditional journals is that they are shared and living accounts.  Family and friends can be part of the mother’s journey.  They can comment on daily ups and downs and contribute to the story that will be left for the child when they are old enough to read and understand what was left for them. 

These children will have something that many of us wish we had, our mother’s voice from long ago.  How did she feel?  What did she go through?  What decisions did she make that she’s happy with now or regrets?  The she from long ago is not able to answer most of these questions now.  Time erases many of the details of our memories.  That’s why these journal blogs are so valuable for the ones you leave behind. 

No one thinks that they will be leaving this earth before they’ve had the time to pass along to their children all the life lessons they want to pass along to them but life happens and sometimes that includes death.  The women that take the time to do these blogs leave something invaluable for their family, especially their children; their story.

 

Book Signing? Me? No, It Couldn't Be.

I've been wanting to share this fun news with you for a while but because I write under a pseudonym to keep this blog more or less anonymous, I wasn't sure how to do it.

Then I decided that even though I couldn't give all the details, I could still share some of this lovely thing in my life with you. Especially because your support of my writing has meant so much to me and is one of the reasons that I've kept at it.

OK, here it is! Two of my posts are being published in a book which is coming out in a few weeks. And this is how it happened.

Around the time I decided to quit my regular job to pursue my working from home life, a good friend told me about an editor that was looking for stories about mothers. This editor was putting together a compilation book for a popular publisher.

I didn't really know where to start since my writing experience consisted mostly of creating business and legal documents. But I had gotten some practice writing personal stories on this blog so I thought I'd give it a try.

I wrote two stories. One about my mother and I and the other about my son and I (both stories are in the favorite posts section of my blog). I sent the stories to the editor not expecting to ever hear from her.

But low and behold, a few months later she contacted me and said she liked both stories. You have no idea how excited and surprised I was. Wow, she read them and actually liked them. Woohoo! She said that she would contact me later about the possibility of the stories going into the book.

I waited patiently...actually not patiently at all. I wanted to e-mail her every single day a hundred times asking what the hell was going on!! But by some force beyond my own understanding I held back.

Then finally a few weeks later another e-mail. She said was down the road in terms of picking the stories she liked and even though she thought my essays where a good fit, she wanted them to be combined into one story. What? It had taken all my creative juices to write two genuine stories about two separate incidents and now I had to magically make them one story? Hmmm. I didn't think I could do it. I was scared of changing what I thought were the best stories I could write into one mediocre jumbled story that would be disappointing to her. But with the encouragement of my husband, I kept the stories intact and connected them with a few transition sentences. I sent her the combined essay and held my breath.

Months went by and I didn't hear anything from her. Hello! Didn't she know that I was on pins and needles waiting for her reaction? Maybe she thought the combined story was just not good enough.

I had almost given up hope when one day I got an e-mail saying that she had recommended that my essay be included in the book but that the publisher had the last word. For peek's sake!! How long do I have to wait to know if my stories will be published?

Another few months later, the publisher e-mailed me to say congratulations and to ask that I fill out a waiver and an agreement! Yeah!!!! Finally.

It only took seven months from writing the stories to getting them in print. The book comes out at the end of this month.

The whole thing is kind of crazy but so fun. One of my friends is even having a book signing party for me...can you believe that? I laughed at the whole idea but I'm super grateful and excited to share my story and so thankful to her (and you!!!!) for supporting me all these months.

The Distance Between Me and That Woman

I'm putting away the dishes. The kids are downstairs in the basement with my husband. I can hear them laughing and running around.

As I clear the table I suddenly feel this odd distance between what I know is my life and what I feel inside. I don't recognize this life. Just minutes ago, I was single. I was an attorney for a big corporation. I was alone most of the time. I was free. I took care of only one person (and I didn't even do that very well). I spent most nights watching sitcoms and going to bed with a good book. I spent my days working and trying to figure out the world around me. The journey of discovery was lonely but also invigorating.

I look around and see my life now. Mother of two boys. Wife to a good man. Responsible for the well being of a family. But I still feel like that single woman sometimes. That woman that was alone most of the time with her own thoughts. And I wonder who is this woman standing in the kitchen? It's not me.

Once the dishes are away, I start turning off the lights. That's when my husband comes up to ask if it's time to take the kids to bed. I say yes and we discuss some mundane kitchen repair issue. Then I tell him that I'm going upstairs and ask if he could please turn off the rest of the lights and then bring up the kids.

I walk into my bedroom and savor the few minutes of silence before the boys charge up the stairs. This is my life now. A few stolen moments of silence here and there.

I sit on my bed and think about that feeling of strangeness that overcame me downstairs. Do I miss the woman in my past?

"Mommy, mommy, where are you?"

"I'm here sweetie, in mommy's room."

Everything else disappears as they run into the room. The other woman is gone. This mother and wife is here waiting for her boys to crowd around her in bed so that she can read them their bedtime stories.

Beyond Lovely

Beyond Lovely

You surprise me with your attention

With your thoughtful words and kind gestures

You surprise me with your smile

With your peaceful face and sweet temperament

You surprise me with your strength

With your steady hand and your strong will

But the thing that is the most surprising about you

Is that you chose me 

Singing A Lullaby Never Felt So Good

When I had my first child almost four years ago, I didn't realize that singing would be part of my mommy duties.

It wasn't a duty that I took to very naturally. To be honest, I'm not a very good singer. Everyone said that it wasn't about how well you sing but just that you connect with your child. So I gave it a try even though it felt really awkward.

I remember the first time I sung to him. He was only a few months old and when I started singing You Are My Sunshine his eyes lit up and he stared at me with such concentration. Wow, this singing stuff really works, I thought. I was completely shocked. Now I had to come up with a few more songs to add to my repertoire.

You would think it would be easy to sing songs to your child but I found it quite challenging. I couldn't find songs that I knew the words to that a child would like. I had to actually look up songs on the Internet. How lame is that? I finally settled on a few classics (Hush Little Baby, the Wheels on the Bus, etc.) and sung those over and over (mostly making up my own words for the second and third verses). After a few months of singing, I transitioned singing into reading books and my son loved the books and never went back to wanting songs.

I was relieved. I could put an end to my singing career!

For some reason, I ended up not singing anymore, even with my second son. I guess we read so many books that the reading replaced singing for all such occasions.

So when my youngest son, who is a little over two, started wanting songs a few weeks ago, I was a little surprised. Ever since he was a baby, we had just put him in his crib and said goodnight and that was enough. But now every night when I say "OK, sweetie, it's bed time" and start carrying him to his room, he says "it's song time mommy?" And I reply "Yes, sweetie, it's song time."

Even though my singing voice is not great, I've loved singing again to my little one. There is no feeling in the world like sitting in a rocking chair singing sweet lullabies to your baby as he's draped across you with his head on your shoulder and his arms around your neck.

I'm so glad that he helped me resurrect my singing career!

Christmas Rocks - Part III - Doing Some Good

For the past week or so, I've been reading Clement Clarke Moore's Twas Night Before Christmas to my 3 and half year old son (a gift from his Grandma). He loves it and asks me a hundred questions about everything having to do with Santa and the old phrases in the book (Mommy what's a sugarplum? What does it mean to fly away like the down of a thistle? Ahhhhh, sweetie, let's just keep reading about Santa and the toys he's bringing the good girls and boys!).

Although I've loved these moments with him, I've also been somewhat conflicted by the idea of taking him to this make believe place. In some ways, I feel like I'm lying to him and when he figures out that there is no such thing as Santa Claus, he'll look at me with a broken heart and say "mommy, why did you say all that stuff when you knew it wasn't true?" Aren't I the one that should always tell him the truth? Aren't I misleading him knowing that he will eventually be disappointed?

You see, I didn't grow up with Santa. I'm the oldest child of immigrant parents and was always treated like an adult even when I probably should have been treated like the little girl that I was and protected from the harsh realities of life. I never remember feeling like a carefree child.

I think that's why I love Christmas so much (ergo my Christmas Rocks series I and II). It's a time where the spirit of love, joy and wonderment is in the air and everyone can participate in it. I love being able to create that spirit for my children. And that's why I've decided that I would tell my son all about Santa! I want him to believe in the miracles and magic of the season and to experience that innocent wonderment and pure joy that Santa can bring.

So in addition to reading him the stories about Santa, I've also been talking to him about writing Santa a letter. I hadn't really thought through what we would do with the letter until I saw this great post by Deb from Missives from Suburbia.

It was like Deb had written the post just for me (thanks Deb!). As she outlines in her post (go over and take a look, she has a prize!), this year, at every Macy's across the county there will be a mailbox to collect letters for Santa Claus. When you bring your stamped letter to Macy's, addressed to Santa at the North Pole, and drop it into Santa's special letterbox, for each letter received, Macy's will donate $1 to the Make-a-Wish Foundation up to $1,000,000. Macy's will then deliver the letters to the post office.

How great is that!? So, even though I hate shopping malls (I do everything on-line, surprise surprise) and also hate mailing things (where are those damn stamps?), I will be going with my son to Macy's to mail his letter to Santa because it will be so fun for him and will help a great cause.

Now I just have to get him to wheedle his Christmas wish list to just one page! :)

Famous Encounters of the Schmoe Kind

Tonight's post was inspired by my friend Kate's story about how she almost met Tom Cruise!

Growing up, I watched a lot of TV and LOVED going to the movies so to meet (or almost meet) any famous person was a giant thrill (and to be honest, probably still is today). So I love stories about how regular schmoes like me or any friend of mine meet movie stars.

So, in honor of Kate's story, I thought I'd share a few stories of my own about how I met or almost met a few famous people.

1. Clint Eastwood - When I was about 14 I volunteered at a charity fashion show that his daughter was in. I was leaning against the back wall watching the show when I realized that Clint was standing right next me. He was so tall! I just froze. I didn't say anything and didn't move until about 10 minutes later when he walked away. Don't worry, it gets better.

2. Richard Gere - I was about 17 and waiting in line at the San Francisco airport to get on a flight to DC and Richard Gere was standing right in front of me. He was pretty handsome in person and not as short as I had heard he was. As we slowly walked into the cabin, Gere (I can't call him Richard...yikes) stopped to put his stuff away in first class (of course) and I was standing right in front of him as he was taking his sweet time. I was so excited on the inside but determined to look nonchalant on the outside. In fact, I went a step further by looking at my watch and huffed with annoyance at how much time he was taking to put his stuff away. Yes, I wanted him to know that I had more important places to be than standing in front of him watching him put his crap away (ya, right!).

3. Dweezil Zappa - OK, this is one of my favorites! I was about 22 and waiting in line at a United counter in LAX waiting to get on a flight to Chicago. This curly haired guy was standing in front of me with a guitar. At the time, I had no idea who he was. I was seriously late for my flight and agitated at how slow the line was going to I started complaining out loud about the airline. He turned around and asked me where I was going and we ended up talking the whole way through the line. I'm not sure but I think he was flirting with me with his big smile and his cute laugh. Anyway, we finally got through the line and went to our separate ticket counters. After I finished checking in I looked to see where he was and saw him with a girl. Since he was with someone, I decided to just go to the gate. I waved goodbye to him as I left. He waved back with a big smile but as I walked away I saw the girl give me a seriously dirty look. A few weeks later, I was watching TV and I saw him and her together on some entertainment show. I was shocked. The girl at the airport was his longtime girlfriend, Lisa Loeb.

4. Richard Grieco - This one makes me cringe, even after 22 years. I was 15 and flying from Palm Springs to my hometown. I was already sitting down in coach when I saw him getting on the plane. At the time, he was on a show called 21 Jump Street with Johnny Depp. I had a GIANT crush on him and was beyond myself at seeing him on my flight. The whole flight I rehearsed what I would say to him. I had my napkin and pen ready for his autograph. I mustered up all my courage and got up in the middle of the flight and walked to the front row to ask for his autograph but when I got there I saw that he was fast asleep. I went back to my seat feeling incredibly foolish. I told myself that when we landed I would get that autograph come hell or high water. But by the time I got off the plane he was long gone. I searched the baggage claim and he was nowhere in sight.

But the story does not end here my friends. Oh no, it gets much more mortifying. It was late at night when we landed and my dad had come to get me. We went outside with my luggage and he told me wait for him while he got the car. A minute after he left, I noticed Richard Grieco sitting on bench by himself. My heart jumped a beat! I was SO excited. This was my chance and I wasn't going to let it slip away again!

I pulled out the napkin and pen from my pocket, walked right up to him (Oh yes I did!) and said "Hi, I think you're the sexiest man on TV, can I have your autograph?" The second after it came out of my mouth, I regretted it (and have ever since). He just took the napkin and pen and said casually "thanks, what's your name?" I told him and he signed my napkin. He then proceeded to ask me (15 year old girl) where were the good places to go out at night in the city. I had no idea. I suggested a few places that I'd hear about. He then asked me what I was doing THAT NIGHT!!! I froze for a second not knowing what to say. Then I snapped back to reality, told him that my dad was bringing the car around and that I had to go home. I then quickly scurried back to my spot and waited for my dad who came a minute later to take me home.

I replayed that night in my head for weeks (maybe months). It was both exciting and mortifying. I wish I knew where that napkin was today!

OK, that was embarrassing...now it's your turn! Any famous encounters? You have got to share! :)

Christmas Rocks - Part Deux

As promised in my Christmas Rocks - Part I post, here a few more things that make me smile about this season:


1. Cheesy Christmas movies. The cheesier the better. Lifetime channel is especially good at these. I love watching Christmas specials, classic Christmas movies, and Christmas theme sitcoms. Bring on the Christmas miracle tears!!

2. Santa hats. I really enjoy wearing a Santa hat out in public. I've been doing this for years, I've worn it to school, to work, to friends' houses, shopping (yes, I'm that ridiculous person at the drug store wearing a Santa hat!). It just makes me feel festive and happy.

3. Christmas cards. I LOVE getting Christmas cards (hint, hint, to those of you that know me personally). Unfortunately, I'm terrible about sending them but love receiving them. I really try every year to get them out in time for Christmas but end up inevitably sending them late (it's still OK if as long as they get there by New Year, right?).

4. Snow. I know this is not directly related to Christmas but the two together makes me happy. I remember making a few snow men while growing up and loving every minute of it. If it snows, I'm going to try and muster up the energy to get outside and show my boys how to make an awesome snow man (this might be a little too ambitious but I'm going to give it a shot!).

5. Santa Claus. This is the first year that my oldest son can understand the whole Santa Claus thing and it's been fun telling him about it. My brothers and I never had that growing up and even though it doesn't feel completely natural to me, I still love the whole idea of Santa Claus and will try my best to bring the wonder of that night to my boys.

6. Ornaments. Ornaments are one of the best parts of the entire Christmas decoration madness. I love bringing out the box after the tree is securely in its spot. Taking each one out and deciding where to put it on the tree is such a fun ritual and now with the boys, it's Kodak moments all over the place. Every years, we get a few more from my mother in law which is so fun for the kids. This year for the first time (again I'm probably being unrealistically ambitious here) I'd love to sit with the boys and make a few. If you have any good ideas for simple ornaments that we could make, please let me know!

7. Free Pass. I'm kind of a corny person by nature but I try to hold my corniness back most of the year but during this season I feel like I have a free pass to be as corny as possible! Singing foam snowmen? Sure, why not!

8. Being Nice. I love that during this time, everyone is just a little nicer. We smile more at each other, say hello to total strangers more and even throw in a Merry Christmas here and there!

9. Red. This might sound silly but I love seeing the color red everywhere. Especially those big red bows they have everywhere. And I wear a lot more red - sweaters, scarves, socks, hats (including my Santa hat) - which makes me feel extra festive!

and finally,

10. Books. I really enjoy reading Christmas themed books to the boys. They are so fun to read and the boys just love them. Last year a friend of ours gave us Olivia Helps With Christmas from the Olivia series and it ended up being one of our favorites. It's SO cute.

Going Against The Crowd on Jennifer v. Angie

A few days ago I wrote a list of seven random things about myself. One of the items was my preference for Angelina Jolie over Jennifer Aniston. Well, since writing that one item, I've seen the reaction to both my post and the post of my friend Kate from The Big Piece of Cake written today on this issue and it has made me a little crazy.

What I'm about to say, I say knowing that it may alienate most if not all of my handful of wonderful readers (I seriously love you even if you disagree with me). But I thought it would be better to get it off my chest than be a coward and stay silent.

Brad and Jennifer were married. Then Brad started working with a woman named Angelina. Brad and Angelina formed a bond during their work. Brad left his wife Jennifer and married Angelina. Brad and Angelina spent their life (and incredible amounts of their time and money) helping others (the examples are numerous and truly inspiring) and having and adopting beautiful children. Jennifer was crushed by the divorce and spent her time making good-to -very- mediocre movies and making bad choices in men. I mean really, John Mayer? Have you heard the things he says about women? He's a total player, immature, partier and THAT's who she chooses to date, break up with, then date again?

OK, based on this scenario I do not get why women rally behind Jennifer like she's some kind of saint and vilify Angie with such force.

I find it abhorrent that women are so quick to blame the other woman and don't say a damn thing about the guy. To me, it's very sexist. HELLO, it was Brad that decided to leave his wife and go with another woman. Also, what if it was Brad who went after Angelina? Is it her fault that Brad was attracted to her or that they felt a connection? Maybe Brad and Jennifer had issues with their marriage long before Brad met Angelina and he would have left her anyway?

I think it's such bull that Angelina's assumed to be the predator. But EVEN if she was the predator, he could have said no, just like millions of men that get hit on by women every day but say no because they love their wives (yes, these men exist).

Listen, Angelina Jolie may not be an angel - but she's not the devil either. And she can't be held completely responsible for someone else's hurt feelings. Brad Pitt was committed to that marriage - not his new girlfriend. And the press is the one that has dragged this on for years - not Angelina Jolie.

The Sad Walk Away From Your Baby

This morning when I left my son at preschool I had a little breakdown.

The tears were not for my own child. They were for total strangers. For a child that I've never met and a mother that I had never seen before in my life.

A new child started in my son's preschool class today. As I walked up to hand my son over to the teach, I saw a mother and her beautiful little girl coming towards the teacher. The little girl began to cry before her mother even started the separation ritual that we all get to know when we leave our children at preschool.

Even after my son had already gone in (he's used to the routine by now, hug-kiss-go), I still stood there watching the little girl crying and desperately reaching for her mother who was slowly walking away from her. I looked at the mother and saw that familiar expression of devastation, loss and determination.

I turned back to the little girl and she was still crying her little heart out and struggling to get out of the teacher's arms. Every fiber of her being seemed to be saying, "please don't leave me here alone mommy! I need you. Don't abandon me."

I was frozen in place watching her pain. And as her tears were rolling down her chubby red cheeks so were mine. My heart just broke for her. So scared. So alone. So young. And also for her mother who had to let her go and watch her little girl in so much pain.

I remember the sadness and heartbreak I felt the first time I left my son in preschool as if it was this morning. And I don't look forward to leaving my other baby next year for his first day of preschool.

So for now, I will just cherish having my youngest at home and not having to watch him cry his eyes out as I walk away from him so that he can start his independence.

Christmas Rocks - Part I

This is going to be the first in a series of posts on how much I love Christmas!

I love everything about the entire Christmas season but here are a few of my favorites:

1. Building your own gingerbread house (I've never done this before...we usually buy one...but this year, I'm determined to build one with the kids. Feel free to send me advice on how to do this because I have NO clue!).

2. The tree (who doesn't love a Christmas tree? Every year, including this one, I insist on the real thing and every year by the end of the season, I understand why people buy fake ones!).

3. Christmas/holiday music (I can't get enough of it...especially the classics by Sinatra, Elvis, Dean Martin, Bing Crosby etc.)

4. Decorations (I love decorating the tree, the fireplace mantels, the front door, the stairway...basically anything that will bring more cheer to the house).

5. Joy (the feeling of joy throughout the season is palpable and there is a real spirit of generosity and kindness which I find inspiring).

6. Cookies (again I've never made Christmas cookies before but this year I'd love to make a few kinds with the kids. Please send me your favorite Christmas cookie recipes...I promise to try and make them and report back to you how I do!).

7. Presents (this is not my favorite part since I'm a terrible shopper but I really like giving the people I care about something special for the holidays...this year I'm going to try to do more handmade or photo/writing based gifts).

8. Parties (we don't go out that much but during the holidays I love getting all dressed up -bring on the red lipstick!!! - and going to fun holiday parties).

9. Lights (I love the lights everywhere - streets, trees, building, windows - I don't understand why we don't do that all year round? It's so fun and festive!).

and finally....

10. It's the perfect excuse to eat, drink and be merry!

The Bedtime Dance

Do you do the night time dance?

The nightly dance with your children. The tug of war of bedtime.

In some ways, it was easier when they were babies, when they couldn't talk back to you or debate the merits of staying up past their bedtime.

Now they can talk and think, and the combination of the two produces some interesting exchanges. The creative excuses to stay up a little longer both make me laugh and drive me crazy. The eternal thirst of these little ones, "I need some waaaater mommy!" How much water could their little tummies possibly hold?

You finally finish the umpteenth book or song and you're just about to cross the bedroom threshold to glorious freedom when you hear your child's sweet (whining) voice, "mommmmmeeeee, one more book (or song, or I need water, or I need the lights on, or I need to tell you something, or I want daddy...)."

Suddenly they want to discuss the world's mysteries with you and you're torn between listening to your child's creative delay tactics and saying goodnight and closing the door behind you.

I listen when I'm feeling patient and easy and close the door when I am in the rules-are-rules frame of mind.

How about you?

Living The American Dream

I always wanted to be an American.

My mom often tells the story of how when I was five years old, I walked into a grown-up family discussion about how my mother's brother could do certain things that my mom and her sisters could not and interrupted everyone by stating loudly and firmly that I thought it was not right that "boys and girls were treated differently."

You see, I grew up in a country that provided different rights to men and women by law and by culture. And even at five years old, I knew that it wasn't right. My mom teases me about how I embarrassed her during that gathering and numerous others with my outspoken manner and my fearless attitude. At that time children were to be seen and not hear (let alone heard interrupting adults talking about serious family matters) but from the beginning I wrote my own rules.

I wanted to be American before I even knew what that really meant or would entail. I wanted freedom. I wanted equality. I wanted to be treated with the same kind of respect that I saw being bestowed upon the men in my country.

I wanted the dream.

Thanks to my parents, I had the opportunity to come here and live that dream. The dream of opportunity, of dignity, of self reliance, of equality and most importantly of freedom.

I never take for granted what this country has given me.

I waited many years for the chance to vote and now that I have that right, I don't take it for granted.

I vote because it's my right, my privilege and my duty as an American.

Goodbye to A Rose

Tonight I said goodbye to a friend. There were no tears, no sad faces, no dramatic gestures, just a hug and a few nice words.

But her departure will leave a big hole in my life and the lives of the other women in our playgroup.

When I met her, I was having a hard time in my life. My first son was nine months old and I was newly pregnant with my second son. I had hardly had time to get myself back together from giving birth, breastfeeding and adjusting to being back at work part time when I found out that I was pregnant again. We wanted to have another one quickly but it was still a surprise that it happened so quickly. My second pregnancy was difficult and I felt sick, tired or angry most of the time. I had also just moved into a new neighborhood and didn't know a soul.

Luckily, a friend of my husband's invited me to an afternoon playgroup during one of my days off. I remember walking in and feeling like the new kid in school, a little nervous and hesitant about my new surroundings.

I don't remember much about that first playgroup gathering but what I do remember is that one of the women in the group went out of her way to make me feel welcome and comfortable. This woman slowly became a friend and confidant.

For the next three years, she was one of the bright spots in my life. She pushed me to do a lot of fun and interesting things that I would not have done by myself (I'm a little bit of a homebody). Also, because of her, I met an incredible group of mothers that showed me how a group of women from different parts of the world with completely different life experiences could come together to form unique and beautiful friendships.

So I'd like to say thank you to her for all her support over the last three years and wish her lots of luck in her next adventure.

I will forever be indebted to you for all you have done for me and my children!

Goodbye my friend.

A Woman of Substance

Do you have a friend that inspires you?

Recently, a woman entered my life that has impressed me with the way she lives her life. And it has been a really pleasant surprise as I'm not that easily impressed.

I expect a lot from myself and also of others in my life but she has surpassed my expectations:

She lives her life with a free and open spirit.

She loves and embraces cultures that are different then hers.

She is kind without compromise.

She is smart without arrogance.

She is strong without aggression.

She stands up for the people and ideas that she believes in while still respecting the views of other.

And she is grateful for the great family and love she has in her life.

I'm thankful for her friendship and her example.

I Need My LOST Fix!

I just saw a preview of the next season of LOST and it rocked! I got goosebumps and was so excited about seeing the next season...until I heard "coming in 2009!"

What? Why are they doing this to us? Why drag it out so long?

They treat us like we're crack addicts, making us beg for just a little taste of that crazy suspense and twilight zone buzz.

I have to admit, I have a love-hate relationship with the show. My husband and I started watching with the very first episode, not knowing what we were getting ourselves into.

I love it SO much that if it's on, I am totally mesmerized and completely focused on the show(don't even try and talk to me!). BUT, by the end of each episode, I get so mad at myself for watching. I'm all anxious about what will happen next and what it all meant. Then I start hating the producers for the twists, turns and complete nuttiness that they thrust upon me. For goodness sake, just tell us what the hell is going on already!!

Every time they open one door, before we have a chance to really enjoy our delicious moment of clarity, ten more mysterious non-sensicle (that's not a word, is it?) doors appear before us. It makes me crazy...but hungry for MORE LOST!

Last season, I told my husband that no matter what I say to NOT let me watch any more episodes. But both of us got sucked in for yet another season.

So now I have to WAIT UNTIL 2009? Are they TRYING to drive me crazy?

If any of the producers happen to stumble onto this post (don't laugh...anything is possible!) I'm begging you, give us more clues, give us more of Jack and Sawyer (Kate's good too but I need my Jack and Sawyer time!)....just give us more LOST and make it quick!

Regrets, I Have A Few

What regrets do you have? I have quite a few. I know regretting things you have done or more importantly not done in your past is completely counterproductive but I can't help thinking about them sometimes.

I love those movies where the protagonist says that they don't have any regrets because everything they've done has brought them to that particular moment (or to the love of their life) or made them the person they are today.

That's not me. I am happy with where I am in my life and feel very lucky to be here but I certainly have regrets; big ones, little ones, short ones, very long ones, trivial ones and life changing ones...basically many many regrets.

I wish I had had the wisdom early in my life to do some things differently. To live my life with much more discipline, courage, and strength.

And now, with the realization of how precious and short life is, I wish I could go back in time and tell my much younger self to be all the things that I now know are so important.

Listen to your gut instincts.

Don't be afraid.

Watch less television.

Do more for others.

Don't feel guilty about enjoying you life.

Respect yourself more.

Paint more.

Write more.

Watch LESS TV!

Sing more.

Dance more.

and finally...

Don't WATCH SO MUCH TV!!!

Today With My Boys

Today was one of those days that makes all the bad days worth it. The bad mommy days. The days where the kids are just beyond unruly and for some reason one or the other is at all times completely unbearable.

Today, the boys were both lit up with joy and ideas. They talked to me and each other and shared their thoughts about the world.

Today, I didn't raise my voice ONCE (I know, it doesn't sound like a huge accomplishment but unfortunately for me it is...with two toddlers running around it's not unusual for me to raise my voice at some time during the day).

Today, I watched my boy take care of his little brother.

Today, I was 100% sure that I made the right decision to stay home.

Today, I was not waiting for my husband get home in the afternoon so he could help me with the kids.

Today, my son showed me the kind of man he could become.

Today, my baby's giggles made me giggle even harder.

Today was a good day.

The Freedom of Silence

There is something so uncomfortable and absolutely exhilarating about silence - no noise, no book, no task, nothing to take your mind away. Your only companion is the silence.

Most of us don't experience real silence that often. In fact, some people are so used to filling all the space in their lives with some kind of noise or distraction, the very notion of total silence is as foreign to them as a country they've never visited.

But even for those of us that do want it and even yearn for it, silence can be hard to handle. At first it's a little bit of a shock to the system. You reach around with your eyes, your ears, your skin for something to grab onto, a noise, a task, a moving story but find nothing. When you realize that you have put yourself in a state of non-distraction, you become agitated and uncomfortable.

Then as you slowly get comfortable with the emptiness like your eyes adjusting to a darkness, you start to gain clarify and discover a kind of freedom. Freedom to explore your untouched thoughts. To go places that you hadn't been in a long time or visit new places you never thought to look.

You start to enjoy this journey and realize why you yearned for this time. You swim around in it and go from one treasured thought to the next not knowing how long to stay with each. You soar through the sky with joy and dive deep into dark places.

And then suddenly, without warning it's all gone. One of life's many distractions has grabbed a hold of you and is demanding your attention. So you answer the call and get back to the world as it is usually lived, with wonderful gifts for your senses to enjoy.

From Talking to Doing

Do you ever feel like you've lost your way? Like you were on track to accomplish something great and somehow you lost your drive or direction?

I have all these great dreams about what I want to do with my life creatively and intellectually and then somehow I get lost in the daily chores of being a mom and wife (both of which I love being) and weeks go by and I realize that I haven't even made one step forward towards any of those dreams.

Then I see something or hear something that lights a flame under me and makes me want to jump in again with full force.

I guess the difference between the people that achieve their goals and the ones that just talk about it is just the doing part. You would think that once you realize that, it would be easy to go from the talking to the doing but it's harder than I ever expected.

So, here I am again reminding myself that it's important to push forward with your dreams and goals no matter how many times you give up or doubt yourself.

A Mother's Touch

When I was a little girl, one of my favorite things was when my mother would play with my hair. Just her touch would feel better than anything I knew in my life. I never forgot that feeling. As I grew up and moved away from home, I always yearned for it.

Later in life, during my visits home, I would seek an opportunity to lay my head in her lap hoping that she would just stroke my hair for a few minutes. Her touch still felt comforting in an indescribable way and would take me back to those moments in my childhood.

My mother never knew how powerful those touches were or how they comforted me like a warm blanket throughout my life.

Every time I think about those moments with my mother, it reminds me that the smallest gesture from me can mean a lifetime of sweet memories for my children.

So when I'm brushing their hair out of their eyes or rubbing their backs when they're not feeling well, I'll try to remember that even if they don't show it, they may take those moments into their adulthood as moments of love and comfort.

The Right Thing

A few weeks ago, during our nightly call, my mother and I started discussing a topic that we’ve debated before and can never agree on.

“It’s the right thing to do,” I said firmly. “The boys need me!”
“They already have you,” she pleaded. “They don’t need you every minute of every day. You have a great career where you’re respected and valued. Don’t give that up.” Then she said with a sigh, “I would have loved to do something with my life.”

My parents left their country in the middle of a revolution and came here to give their children a better life. Raising me and my two brothers in a foreign land wasn’t always easy for my mother but she never let it show. While my father went to work during the day, she stayed home to take care of us. A home that was a million miles away from everything and everyone she knew. But that didn’t stop her from putting her heart and soul into creating a loving home for us.

Every day after school, I would sit at the kitchen table and tell her my tales of junior high hardship. And I had a lot of them, being the new foreign kid in school. She would listen to me while she was preparing dinner or folding the laundry and comfort me in the best way she knew how. She would tell me how lucky I was to have a good family and remind me that I should be thankful for that, instead of seeking the approval of my classmates.

Or course, at the time, I didn’t see it that way. All I saw was that my mother didn’t understand me. I wanted desperately to fit in with the other kids. “Why can’t I go?” I would say with pre-teen angst, “everyone goes to sleepovers here, it’s NO BIG DEAL!” But she was adamant. “No sleepovers,” she would say in her heavily accented English. No boys calling the house. No TV in my room. No make-up.

I was angry a lot during those early teenage years but every day after school I would still tell her my tales and she would still listen.

I had no idea that while I was going through my life-is-so-unfair mini dramas, my mother was dealing with her own obstacles: learning a new culture, a new language, and a new way of life. Despite these hurdles, she powered through -- raising three healthy well-adjusted children.

Through those first few tough years of transition, she kept the family together, the house clean, the cloths pressed, our lives organized and had an amazing meal on the table every day. I never thought about how all that got done or if it was hard for her. I didn’t understand what it took to be a stay-at-home mom. That is until I had my own children.

To her, I’m doing it all, working and taking care of my family. But I have it so easy compared to her. She doesn’t know how much I admire her strength and the way she made it look so easy. The way she sacrificed for us every single day. They way she loved us even when we didn’t deserve that love. And the way she was there whenever we needed her. How could I express in words how much that really meant?

“You’re wrong mom,” I finally said “you did do something. You did something amazing. You were there for me and that meant everything.”