The things for which I'm thankful

There are many things in life I am thankful for, but here's my top 25 coming off of Thanksgiving weekend, in somewhat random, stream-of-conscious order.

1. My fabulous, loving and perfect-for-me husband, whose health seems to be much better this year than last.

2. My wonderfully bright, adorable, yet irritating children. As one of my best friends put it, there's just enough "squish" to balance the cuteness.

3. My far-off family who never seem to find time to visit me in California. You know who you are, and I'm not going to stop bugging you. No, I'm not thankful they don't visit me. I just like to bug them about it whenever I get a chance.

4. My far-off relatives who do come to visit me. You know who you are, too, and I miss you all terribly.

5. My friends, whom I've covered in previous posts. Without them life would be a little less colorful, a little more boring and a lot more depressing. You are my lifeblood!

6. The fact that I've gotten to spend an entire year at home with my kids.

7. Hugs.

8. The beauty I can find in my own backyard, the flowers, the beach, the palm trees, the weather here.

9. My home. My fortress of solitude, my own little island of sanity (most days at least).

10. Books.

11. Strawberries.

12. Chocolate.

13. All those people who have made me who I am by being a part of my life. Some are still here, some are not. My Mom, My grandmother, my great-grandmother and my grandfather are just a few that are no longer with me physically, but their mark is on my life and heart forever.

14. Afternoons at the park with the boys.

15. Days at the beach.

16. My son's wonderful charter school and its sense of community.

17. Facebook.

18. Las Vegas

19. Sy-fy (even though I don't like the change in logo)

20. Wilson Creek Almond Champagne

21. My husband's pumpkin pie and Toll House cookies

22. Video Games

23. Backyard parties

24. Halloween

25. Christmas

My baby turned 4

I can't believe Morgan turned 4 yesterday. He's growing up so fast and insists that I don't call him baby. What he doesn't know won't hurt him. He will always be my baby. For that matter, so will 7-year-old Gabriel.

When it comes to birthdays, I usually pull out all the stops for the kids. I've been a little lax with Morgan, though, since he isn't in preschool, doesn't really know that many kids and his birthday is so close to Thanksgiving that it actually falls on the date once in awhile. So, for the past three years, it's been quiet celebrations at the house with a few family friends (usually adults), a homemade cake and a small fanfare.

Well, this year the growing young man insisted we throw him a party. A Shark party, no less. In my doting wisdom and thinking a shark party should be easy to find decorations and favors for, I agreed.

Boy was I a fool! For a town on the beach, there really isn't much out there for sharks. I guess a few years ago when "Shark Tale" came out there was stuff, but now that MY kid wants a shark party, there's nothing.

Morgan and I looked everywhere, we went to all the party stores in Ventura, Oxnard and Camarillo, we spent a day at Ventura Harbor Village and looked at the shops there. We went to the taco place near the hat shop and actually ate shark and chips. He thought this was pretty cool, and we both enjoyed the amazing pictures of Great White Sharks on the walls.

Finally, we went to Sea Things on Santa Clara in Ventura and found a few items for guests' gift bags.

We couldn't find invitations, so I ended up making them. We settled for plain, blue plates. I found two shark posters at Party Pleasers in Camarillo and put one of those on the hot tub and one on the garage wall above the food table. I made use of some drift wood from the beach and raided my bathroom for shells to use as table decorations. That would have to do.

There are no shark Jolly Jumpers, either. We settled for one with palm trees.

The cake was the big problem. Morgan wanted a shark cake. They don't make shark cakes, either. So, I was going to have to make that, too. After fretting for a month about how to make it and looking online at what others had done , I still had no idea how I was going to make a cake picturing a side view of the entire length of a shark because, of course, that's what my baby wanted.

The problem was that by the time I cut the shape of the shark out, there wasn't much cake left to serve the party guests.

Lucky for me, Mr. Morgan changed his mind and wanted to do a shark head with an open mouth full of teeth, like the original "Jaws" poster - now we're talking doable.

So, at 8 p.m. the night before the party, I started on the cake. Procrastination is my middle name, but somehow I always meet my deadline. Eric, of course, was laughing at me and taking pictures as I worked on the cake.

Putting the cake together wasn't so much the problem as frosting it without getting the colors mixed. I would have used a decorator and those funky little star pattern dots, except for the fact that I loathe them. They take forever and I'm not a very patient person.

Along about midnight, the red velvet cake (think shark blood) was done an frosted along with a whole bunch of cupcakes that I'm hoping the family will clean up before I eat too many.

However, this was a toothless shark and I wasn't sure what to do about the teeth. Those other shark cake makers used fondant, marshmallows, gum, vanilla Tootsie Rolls, nuts and candy apple candy corn. None of these things, save for the marshmallows, gum and nuts were readily available. I wanted to stay clear of nuts since I wasn't sure if any of our guests were allergic. Gum and marshmallows just didn't seem right.

So, a few hours before the party, I ran down to World Market to see what I could find. I found star-shaped Peeps that I thought I could cut the tips off, I found chocolate-coated almonds (at least the nuts were covered), Lindt white chocolate bars and a couple other things I decided wouldn't work. So, $14 in candy later, I'm back at the house trying to figure this out.

The star points on the Peeps were too wide, I was still having issues with the almonds, so I tried the white chocolate bars. I was worried they wouldn't cut properly, but it worked perfect, and we had a shark with a mouth full of teeth.

And, thanks to our friends the Snyders, I had a wine stopper in the shape of a swimmer that I was able to stick in the mouth so it looked like the shark ate someone. OK, perhaps not politically correct for a 4-year-old, but I've always said my family was a little twisted.

Oh, and Eric talked me out of writing Bite Me on the cake board. So instead, I made sure Morgan was wearing the shirt that said "Bite Me" with the picture of shark's teeth on it. It made me feel a little better.

The lessons I've learned: Don't commit on birthdays until I've checked out the party goods situation. I'm getting more confident at cake decorating with each birthday. Four-year-olds don't care if the decorations are perfect. They just want to have fun, candy, friends and presents until they're so pooped out that they fall asleep on the floor playing with their new toys.

October magically disappears

Way back in September, I wrote about my Grandmother's birthday, some disappointing events in my life and how I drew encouragement from my family. Since then, My grandmother has died, I made a trip back to Kansas and helped produce a Halloween haunted house as a fundraiser for my son's school. Somewhere amid all of that October disappeared.

Traditionally, October is a difficult time of year, my parents' anniversary is Oct. 4, my mother died on Oct. 6 and her birthday was Oct. 17, so that makes for a melancholy month. But me and my family revel in Halloween. We used to throw a huge Halloween party for all of our friends, but with circumstances being what they are this year, we had to let that tradition go.

I thought it was going to be a quiet, fun Halloween spent at my friend Linda's place. It was on a Saturday this year, so we had been talking about spending the entire day together, culminating with taking the kids trick-or-treating as we had the last few years.

We were mistaken.

The PTSO at my son's school had this idea come up about throwing a haunted house fundraiser for the school. We hashed it around a bit and were on the verge of canceling it when an unbelievable opportunity manifested itself. I won't go into the gory details, but before I knew it Linda, me and our new-found friend Cathy Derley were all coordinating this event that grew monstrous before our eyes.

It was exhausting, frustrating, rewarding, thrilling, fun and exciting all at the same time. It did, however, overshadow that nice, quiet little Halloween Saturday we had planned. It also consumed the entire month, and was the biggest bash I have ever had a part in throwing.

Somewhere in the middle of the planning for this event, my grandmother, who had turned 100 at the end of August, died. Her burial ceremony was set for Oct. 16, the day before my mother's birthday. This added another layer of sadness to the month.

While the circumstances for the trip back to Kansas were grim, and the trip itself was a quick one, it was nice to be back in the shelter of my family, if only for a few days. Being with them lends me a strength and ability to appreciated the life I've had and the people I've shared it with.

The busyness of the haunted house was therapy for me, as well. It helped me let go of the sadness and melancholy that usually consume the month of October. It gave me a sense of accomplishment and a chance to work on and complete a big project. It's also given me a bit of an emotional boost and lots and lots of memories and new friends.

The job hunt is ongoing, although jobs to apply for are few and far between. I still haven't given up, though and am looking almost every day for new opportunities. Nov. 6 was the anniversary of the layoff announcement. It's hard to believe it's been a year.

In the meantime, I'm looking forward to Morgan's 4th birthday. He wants a shark birthday party. I never thought finding invitations and party supplies for a shark birthday would be so difficult, but apparently it is. So, it's off to a new challenge, creating invitations and figuring out how to make a shark birthday cake.

It's back to one step at a time and making my own happiness.

A summer roller coaster ride

A lot of things have been going on the past few months and I thought I'd wait until the roller coaster ride was over before I wrote my review.

First there was my foray into business ventures. I spent a good part of the last three months doing my due diligence, marketing research and writing a business plan in order secure funding to buy a business.

It was hard, I learned a lot, I found a few mentors and, in the end, I still don't have a business.

Make no mistake, I have no regrets about going through the process. The people at SCORE and WEV are amazing, caring people, and if you ever have an idea for a business, check in with these people. They have the expertise to get you on the right foot and up and running.

I learned so much: how to write a business plan, how to prepare a table of start-up costs, how to correctly do a profit and loss statement, how to project a 12-month earnings statement. It was very educational. I also learned I wasn't as clueless about the business end of things as I had been led to believe.

My only regret is that the person I was hoping to buy the business from wasn't as open with me as I was with her. After getting everything in order and turning it in to the review board, I notified the business owner of the timetable -- six to eight weeks with an answer by the end of August. She never said this would be a problem. I warned her she wouldn't hear from me during that time as there would be nothing to report.

As my loan review date approached, I emailed the business owner, letting her know exactly when I would get an answer. Her reply stated that she had sold the business to someone else.

I wasn't really sure what to think. I'd spent months on the phone with her and working with her. She knew how much I wanted this and how hard I had worked, but she never thought to tell me there was another buyer.

I was devastated on many levels. I had hoped this would be my answer to being unemployed. It felt good to be taking action, and I was excited about owning my own business. It's easier to remain optimistic when you're actively pursuing something, too. I was also eager to be generating some income.

When I opened that email, my heart sank. Fear found a foothold and my faith in my fellow human beings dropped to an all-time low. It's hard for me to fathom that someone wouldn't have the common courtesy to make a phone call.

On the same day that I found out about losing the business opportunity, in fact, in the next few moments, I got a call for an interview from a company I had sent my resume to a couple months ago. It's a great job. I think both interviews I've had with them went well. It's a job I can do well, a job I would find challenging and enjoyable. I'm once again excited about something, and I hope it works out (cross your fingers).

The day after this, we loaded up the car and went to Oregon for my grandmother's 100th birthday. It was a fabulous weekend. I was able to reconnect with family members I hadn't seen in more than 20 years. There's nothing like a good dose of family to lift the spirits.

As I was listening to my grandma and all her relatives talk about their lives, I thought about what they've lived through. Their parents immigrated from Russia, they lived through the Depression and both World Wars. My grandmother has lost her husband, her daughter and several of her siblings. Through it all, she's picked herself up and endured with love and strength and perhaps a little sadness, too. But, she's strong and so is my family.

My aunt reminded me that when a door closes, at least a window opens somewhere. You may have to crawl through it and get battered a bit along the way, but something good will come from the experience.

I gained strength from being with my family. And, like my grandmother, I'll pick myself up and keep going.

Right now I'm looking at all the gifts I've been given.

I have a wonderful husband, two adorable boys and a supportive family, even if they're all miles away. I was able to spend at least one glorious summer with my sons, going to the beach, going to movies, playing video games, reading and just horsing around. That is something I never thought I'd be able to do.

I've learned a lot about myself.

I don't like housework and no matter how much time I have on my hands, there will always be something better to do. I realized how much of myself I'd given away to work. I've learned to balance my life better. I've rediscovered they joys of cooking, art and crafts. I've benefited from quality time with friends.

I've also realized that despite the dwindling bank account, my life is rich. Rich with an amazing, colorful family and friends that are worth more than fine gold.

I've also realized that it's taken me losing my job to make me slow down and take stock of what I have and not take it for granted. Life is beautiful despite its roller coaster ride, or just maybe it's more beautiful because of it.

Once a bookworm, always a bookworm

Now that I have more "free" time - or at least time that I'm not tied to a desk owned by someone else, I'm reacquainting myself with the library.

When I was working and wanted to read a book, I'd cart myself over to the nearest bookstore and pick it up or order it online. I always thought of books as an investment, or priceless treasures. And still do.

Now that there is no room for disposable income in my budget - mainly since there is NO income from my side of the marriage - I'm rediscovering the joys of going to the library. And, I get to share those moments of discovery with my children.

I think I've mentioned before that I was a bit of an awkward child. I didn't have a whole lot of friends and did have a whole lot of time on my hands in the summers. We lived about two blocks from the library, and I spent most of my summer days, along with my older brother, combing the stacks for adventure. All the librarians knew us by name.

By the time I was in fifth grade, I had read all of "Nancy Drew," a good portion of the "Hardy Boys" and numerous other classics like "Charlotte's Web" and "Tom Sawyer." Books were my best friends and my great escape.

In my room, there was this great bay window with a rose bush outside that was perfect for spending the day curled up and reading. I still remember looking out the window at the end of Charlotte's Web with tears rolling down my cheeks. Yeah, I was an ole softy then, too.

We didn't go on very many vacations as a child, but that didn't matter much as long as I was able to get my hands on a book to read. Books took me all over the world on adventures through time, space, faerie, etc.

Now, I get to watch Gabe's eyes light up as he tells me what's happening in the "Warriors" series or as he tells me how exciting the "Alfred Hitchcock and the Three Investigators Series" is. That one I remember reading as a kid, only I was probably a little older than Gabe at the time.

Morgan is excited by Dave Pilkey's "Kat Kong" and "Dogzilla." It doesn't matter how many times I read them, they still tickle his funny bone. When it's time to get new books, he goes straight for them.

So, when we head for the library, I send the boys off to the children's section and I go roaming the stacks for my own treasures. We all convene in the children's area and compare adventures. And we usually leave with an armload of books, many more than if we had to buy them.

I personally think everyone should find at least an hour out of their day to check out the local libraries and see what they have to offer. They just might be surprised at how rewarding that experience can be.

Life is a beach

Now that summer is in full swing and both my boys are home all day, we've been trying to find rhythm and variety of things to do. This may be why you haven't heard from me much. It's hard to have enough clarity to write in between SpongeBob, video games and being outside.

Some of the things we've been doing this summer include swimming lessons (Thanks Lisa), the Ventura Aquatic Center, weekly movies with the Regal Cinemas' Family Film Festival, brushing up on our video game skills, going to the library, reading and going to the beach.

Of these, I think our favorite has been going to the beach. It just doesn't get any better than packing a lunch, stretching out on the beach and playing in the sand and the surf.

We pack up the beach blanket, sand toys, towels, beach chairs, a good book and the backpack cooler with food and drinks and head out for the day. It doesn't matter how long we've been there, we're never quite ready to pack up and go home.

Sometimes we go with friends, sometimes it's just me and the boys, but we never have a bad time. Gabe has started playing in the waves more and is showing an interest in bodyboarding. Morgan is content in digging big holes and jumping in and out of them. When it comes to the water, he mostly likes to chase the waves.

For me, I just like walking on the sand and watching my kids and the waves. No matter my worries or concerns, they all seem to melt away knowing that there are much bigger things in life than my problems. It helps me put life in perspective. For me, going to the beach is a healing experience.

Everyone is happy to be there. Everyone is having fun. It's a joy to see my children discover crabs, starfish and sea anemones; seek sand dollars; and create sculptures with sand and seaweed.

The entire experience feeds their imaginations. Morgan likes to play Godzilla climbing out of the water and smashing the sand city he's built.

It gives them a sense of discovery, and wears them out. They come home calm and collected, a little tired, but very content.

I count my blessing that I live close to the beach. That I have the opportunity to wash away my trouble in the sand and sea, and that I can spend this golden summer with my two beautiful sunshine boys!

Imagination evaporation

What happens to our imaginations as we get older?

My oldest son, Gabriel, went to a camp this week. Camp Invention. It was pretty cool. They learned all about science and physics and inventing during the week. Today, they had a little expo where their family members came to view their inventions and creations.

I was impressed by all the creative problem-solving these elementary school students came up with. The older students created Rube Goldberg machines, complex devices that perform simple tasks in indirect, convoluted ways, that were to catapult and smash a rotten egg. Each team came up with something different. They were made out of coffee maker parts, Walkman's and other discarded appliance and recyclable items like paper towel rolls, boxes, egg cartons, etc.

Their machine designs and plans were some of the most creative drawings I've seen in a long time.

They let their imaginations run wild with nothing to stop them and all the encouragement in the world from the camp counselors.

It did get me thinking about how my imagination has been stunted by the rules, discouragement and years of working for the Man. Somewhere along the way, I lost my desire to create and be artistic. I lost my joy of simply silly and beautiful creations made for creation's sake. I began to produce.

Somewhere along the line, everything I did had to have purpose and meaning beyond being silly or beautiful.

I still dabble with scrapbooking and design and painting and crafts, but it's usually with a specific goal, such as organizing my photos for my family, making presents for various holidays, cooking a meal, etc. It's rarely for the simple purpose of expressing myself or exercising my imagination. It only happens when all the chores are done and everything is in its place, which means rarely.

I think that is one thing that being home with my kids has taught me. I need to get in touch with my inner child again and relearn how to be silly and imaginative. I'd forgotten how happy those simple pleasures make me.

My youngest, Morgan, is probably the most imaginative person I have ever known. He creates entire worlds out of nothing at all. He comes up with the most amazing and detailed stories you've ever heard. He doesn't care that sometimes they don't make much sense in the real world. They make perfect sense to him and that is all that matters. It is a beautiful thing.

I hope he never loses touch with that imaginative side of himself.

... and Gabe's invention?

He created something called an "Attractor" that attracts his little brother when Morgan is being a bit too imaginative, and annoying, for Gabriel's comfort.

Farewell my furry friend

I've been hibernating lately.

Sometimes, you just have to disappear for a while.

We had to put Dizzy to sleep on June 9, and I've been nursing a bit of depression. I find myself missing the darnedest things - the exact things she did that drove me crazy, such as snorting in the middle of the night to let us know she needed to go out, despite the fact that there is a doggie door and she could let herself out. I also miss her hanging out underfoot in the kitchen and eating anything and everything that fell on the floor.

There are a lot more crumbs under Morgan's chair than there had been before, and I find myself sweeping and mopping in the kitchen more often, too, always with Dizzy in mind.

We finally broke down and put her food and water bowls away. We washed her bed and stored it in case we get another dog someday.

I took the boys to the dog pound this week to see what options there were, but none of us seemed too eager to find another dog just yet. I think I just wanted to go to hear the barking.

When Toto died last year, it was a little easier. We didn't love him any less, but we had Dizzy to transfer that love to and to remind us of him. Now, with her gone, it's like we're grieving for both of them.

Our oldest son, Gabriel, went with us to Anacapa Animal Hospital. He wanted to be there to tell her goodbye. I was proud of him for wanting to show her how much he loved her by being there. He took it really hard, but knows it was for the best. After he said goodbye, he waited in the lobby with Eric.

I stayed with Dizzy. She went to sleep in my arms.

The staff at Anacapa made a paw print for us. I plan to put it up on the TV with a picture of Dizzy right next to the one of Toto.

Morgan, who was at the baby sitter's house that day, was quite upset when he realized we forgot to take Dizzy's bed with us. That's when I decided I really needed to remove it from it's homey spot right in front of the fireplace.

Morgan asked me the other day when she was going to come home. We told him Dizzy is playing with Toto and is in a much better place. He's made the connection and knows she died now, but he still misses her - so do the rest of us.

Some roads end too soon

We've recently been confronted with some heavy decisions lately. Ones our hearts and our heads cannot reconcile.

Our beautiful, furry friend and companion, Dizzy, isn't doing well. She's an old dog. Fifteen by human years. She's not the most graceful pup, nor is she the brightest bulb, but when it comes to love, she makes up for it in spades.

We adopted Dizzy in 1995. We were living in Texas and had been talking about getting a companion for our dog Toto. He died a couple of years ago. He was my first baby, and losing him was heartbreaking and unexpected.

Back then, my mom was diagnosed with cancer, and I was having a tough time dealing with it. While I was back in Kansas helping her, my husband went to see a litter of pups. They were Pomeranians, just like Toto. Eric thought a dog might help. He was right.

When I got back into town, he surprised me by taking me to a house I'd never seen and telling me to pick out a puppy. The dogs were adorable, racing each other down the hall, hopping all over each other to be the first into the backyard. They were a playful lot and it was tough to choose one.

I was looking at a cream-colored little fur ball and sat down cross-legged to get a better look at her, when this sable-colored dog with big brown eyes pushed her way into my lap and claimed me for her own.

Dizzy has always known what she's wanted. She's always made it clear. Ball, food, treats and lots and lots of love and attention.

She's a crazy little dog who was out for trouble, damn the consequences.

When she was about 4 months old, she jumped off the bed at breakneck speed and promptly broke her right leg. She spent forever in the cast and lost a ton of playtime, for which she made up as soon as the cast was removed. That is not to say that the cast really ever slowed her down. She'd go thumping all over the house, dragging whatever stuffed toy was her favorite and threatening to tear it to shreds in frustration at her limited movement.

Her favorite things to do were play ball, snatch birds out of the air and chase down horny toads in our back yard, that's when she and Toto weren't up to no good and digging under the fence to roam the neighborhood. I can't even count the number of times they snuck out of the back yard only to show up scratching at the front door or lounging on the front steps, lying in wait for the mailman.

Dizzy was our Tasmanian Devil. Full of mischief to Toto's aloof attitude.

She's mellowed out a lot over the years, becoming a beloved companion for our 3-year-old. When Toto died, Morgan kind of stepped up as Dizzy's best friend. He follows her around and hugs her, pets her and tells her she's beautiful despite her gaseous nature and horrible breath.

She stays up with me late into the night when I read or watch TV, always there looking for some love and attention, curled up on her bed in front of the fireplace. When we go to sleep, she crawls beneath the bed and lays down for the night, always wanting to be in our presence.

She's also our alarm clock.

I'm not sure when she decided that 5 a.m. is the time to be fed, but pretty close to 5 every morning she'll wake us up and won't take no for an answer. It may have something to do with Eric getting up at 5:30 a.m. Although I'm not sure who trained who.

Dizzy is 15 now. We think her esophagus is collapsing. The vet says it's pretty common for Poms. It could be her heart, though. The exam to determine what the problem is costs $500. The cures are heart surgery at $10,000 or placing a stent in her esophagus, which again runs into the thousands.

With me not working, neither is an option. The best we can do for her is give her some cough medicine to easy her pain and pray it isn't her heart. Either way, the end is coming. I can hear it in her rasping breath and see it in her eyes when she stares at me for help that I can't give as she stuggles with a coughing fit.

I feel helpless. She was there for me when I needed her, but I can't seem to be able to return the favor. I feel like I'm letting her down. I hear the accusation with every cough.

I'm not sure what life will be like without her. It will be quieter, the air will be a little fresher, we may get a little more sleep, but there will be an immense emptiness. And if it's anything like when Toto died, the pain won't ease any time soon.

She's family and always will be. She's marked us in so many ways. We love you, Dizzy.

The privilege is mine, for once

Being home with my kids is a privilege.

Yeah, I know I complain a lot about them driving me crazy, but I think that's just me working through some of my adjustment issues since I'm not really used to having them around that much.

When I worked full time, I defined myself a great deal by what I did.

I was a journalist.

I was a mom.

I was a wife.

Those were the things that defined me, but who was I?

Frazzled the way I was and stretched between everything I thought I wanted to be, I lost track of that.

What kind of mom am I?

What kind of wife?

What kind of journalist?

What kind of woman?

What really makes me happy?

The last six months without a job have given me a chance to explore a few of those questions. Even though I'm a little afraid to dig too deep. Reinvention is a scary thing sometimes. It makes you look a little too closely at yourself.

Mostly what I've found is that working was a good excuse to avoid other things. Things I was too tired to do. Things like volunteer, get involved in the community, garden, and yes, clean my house.

As you may have noticed, I've been on a bit of a cleaning and organizing frenzy. In some ways, as I get closer to being caught up, I think that, too, is just another attempt to avoid self-examination.

I do find that as I begin to organize photos and the kids' artwork and school certificates, I realize just how much of their lives that I've missed. I get a much better idea of exactly what I wasn't there to take pictures of and what I was too tired to really enjoy.

Thank goodness for all those other moms in the classroom who gave me pictures or discs with all the photos they had taken. Bless them!

The more I find myself thinking about those things, the more I find myself slowing down and taking time to play a game of catch, to dig worms in the garden, to build forts out of blocks, to listen to the made-up Godzilla and shark stories (anyone who's met Morgan understands) or play on the Wii.

As upset as I was - am - about losing my job, worrying about the mortgage and finding ways to cut corners, the more I realize how much I enjoy being there for my kids. It's hard work and sometimes exhausting, but in the end it's much more rewarding.

I enjoy curling up in the big chair with Gabriel and reading in the afternoon. I enjoy reading books with him that I loved as a child.

I really don't mind stopping what I'm doing to go pick him up from school. The truth is, most days I can't wait until 2:30 p.m. so I can see him.

I really enjoy being able to sit down to dinner when my husband gets home, with most of the homework done and nothing but family time left in the evening.

So, while I worry how long we can make it before the savings runs out, I'm enjoying the opportunity to figure out who I am and be with my kids. It's a rare privilege that I may only have for a little while.

Motherhood, me and Mom

I know it's past Mother's Day, but I've been taking some time to reflect on motherhood, me and Mom.


I've come to realize in the past few days that I'm more like Mom than I thought.

While that thought frightens me in many, many ways, there's comfort in it, too. After all, I don't think I turned out THAT bad.

My mother was a wonderful woman. She had a heart bigger than most countries and could charm a snake right out of its skin. She was, however, a bit obsessive about some things. Cleaning, germs, religion, garage sales, cooking, being frugal and her intense dislike of feet are a few examples.

I remember as a teenager thinking she was out of her mind for getting up at 6 a.m. to clean and vacuum the house. She would dust at least one room each day. She would do at least one load of laundry each day, too. She insisted that everything be put in its place before bedtime ... and by everything, I mean dishes put away, clothes in the hamper, newspapers and magazines in the rack, and everything off the floor.

If I left jewelry sitting on the counter in the bathroom or coffee table overnight, it would disappear to teach me a lesson: Put things where they belong.

I came to realize recently, that her obsessive cleaning was actually a symptom of an overly organized woman. She was very good at managing her time - and ours, too.

By getting a portion of the cleaning and laundry done each day, she was making sure the weekends were free to spend with the family. By vacuuming at 6 a.m., she was making sure we were getting up in time for school and that she was getting a chance to talk with us before we all headed our separate ways.

She'd get all the housework done by the time we left for school, then she would go out and do volunteer work in the community. Sure, she hung out with her friends and went antique shopping, too, but mostly, she was home when we got home from school, usually baking cookies, cakes or pie and asking us how our day went. She was always there for us.

Dinner was always on the table by 7 p.m., unless Dad was grilling or frying fish, then we'd wait until he got home. She ran the house like clockwork.

I'm not quite that obsessive, but now that I'm not working, I'm finding myself trying to get all the chores done during the day and during the week, so that when the kids get home or the weekend rolls around, we get to spend quality time together... reading, goofing off in the backyard, watching movies and playing games.

It's actually become more crucial for me to be organized, to have a menu plan and to get the chores done, so I can enjoy the rewards at the end of the day: hugs from my boys, quiet time with my husband and fun weekends that we never were able to experience before.

I've become so obsessive that I've printed out a monthly chores spreadsheet in Excel, so I make sure we're all on track. Mom kept hers in her head.

One other way I'm like Mom, I have several junk drawers/baskets hidden away. They look really good from the outside, but never, ever open them unless you have a few hours to sort through them.

It takes some time. There's junk in there all right, but there's also some pretty cool mementos, too. Tickets from Dodger games, Thomas the Tank Engine outings, and old birthday and Mother's day cards. Perhaps even a few broken, favorite toys of the boys that Mom can't seem to part with. There's also I-love-you notes and drawings, too.

When my mom died in 1995, my brother and I went through some of those drawers. It took us hours for just one. We found all the above mentioned items along with favorite recipes and poems she wrote about us. It was like a treasure chest of memories.

She didn't leave us with scrapbooks or even bothered putting pictures in albums, but all the ephemera of our lives was saved in those junk drawers. She left the organizing to my brother and me. Someday, we just might get it done. But, someone else will have to take care of my junk drawers.

P.S. Here's another one of Mom's secrets. If you find that you've been goofing off a little too long and you get home moments before everyone else and you're running late for dinner, saute some onions in butter. It will make the whole house smell wonderful - just like you've been cooking for hours. You can always use onions for something.

Bizarro's world

Have you ever tried to win an argument with a 3-year-old

I think it's an impossible task. I feel like I'm living in Bizzaro's world.

No means yes. Don't means do. Stop means do it again.

My first theory was to play along, but Morgan is on to me. Or, more likely, doesn't know I exist today. He's in his own world. Listening to his own drummer.

The laptop makes a great dance platform. Talking as loud as possible while Mommy is on the phone is a fun game. Pulling out every Thomas the Tank Engine train you own, not to play, just to make a mess seems logical. Spilling a juice bag on the leather couch creates an interesting pattern.

Despite my frustration, his world is more pleasing. No cares, no worries, no rules. He sure does seem happy doin' his own thing.

I caught a glimpse of him this morning as he bit into a whole green apple for the first time. The juice was glistening on his lips in the sunlight and rolling down his chin and little fingers. His eyes were shining with glee at the experience of something so simple.

His smile became wider when I told him his older brother had never bitten into a whole apple before.

It was his own first. One thing his brother hadn't done before him. He reveled in it.

It's moments like these that I cherish.

The picture of him sitting there with juice running down his chin, a smile on his face and joy in his eyes will be forever in my heart. Right beside the first time he said, "I love you, Mom," unprompted and the time he cupped my face in his little hands, caressed my cheek and said, "You're beautiful, Mom."

Moments like these make my little Bizarro's world a pretty perfect place to be.

Productivity hangover

Have you ever had one of those weeks where all the productivity of the past month just seems to catch up to you.

I'm having one of those weeks.

I've finished several projects that have been simmering on the back burner for months; helped mentor my son's Lego League team; carted the the kids to swimming lessons, T-ball, Spring Fling class; cleaned out the closets; planted a small garden; weeded the flower beds, twice; baked; organized our photos on the computer; planned a vacation; hunted for jobs; cleaned the house over and over; done many, many loads of laundry; and helped organize pajama reading night at my son's school. That's just a partial list.

I feel like I've accomplished a lot, and I have, yet there's still a ton to be done, and my body and soul are calling it quits and screaming for renewal. My head is pounding and I can't keep a clear thought.

I call it the productivity hangover.

Just like a night on the town, when you squeeze too much work into a small period of time, you're headed for a backlash. And, just like a hangover from a night out, sometimes it's worth it.

I think this calls for a girls' night out. Call it the hair-of-another-dog cure. I'm pretty sure it'll be worth it.

Sweet nothing

Quiet.

It's a beautiful thing.

When I was younger, I never appreciated the beauty of quiet time. I always tried to fill it with music, TV and background noises.

I detested quiet. It made me think.

Now, after marriage, two dogs, two boys, noisy neighbors and years of working in a noisy, bustling newsroom, I've learned to treasure those fleeting moments of quiet.

No screaming
No barking
No sound effects (I love you, boys and Eric, but you never stop)
No constant chatter (ditto above)
No TV
No music
No interruptions

Just quiet, stillness and clarity of thought.

Thank you, my sisters

I finally got around to watching my latest Netflix movie.

It's been sitting innocuously on the TV for a little over a week; The red envelope reminding me it was still there, waiting, as I passed by at least 50 times each day.

I was waiting for the opportunity to watch it by myself. It was a chic flick in a house of boys after all. Somehow I just couldn't see my trio of men getting into "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2."

The opportunity finally arose today as my youngest decided he was still a bit sleepy after dropping big brother off at school. So, while he watched some old-school "Godzilla," in the den, I made a pot of tea and snuggled into my overstuffed leather chair for some self indulgence.

What I wasn't expecting was how watching the changing lives of these four friends would trigger memories and emotions about the women in my life, my sisterhood.

Maybe I was just in a sentimental mood, or maybe I'm just sappy. Either way, I thought about how my friends have marked me and changed me. Some for better, some for worse, but all making impressions that have molded me into who I am.

There are girlfriends from grade school and high school who helped me grow in ways they will never know. People such as Donna Demel.

Donna was probably my first friend in second grade at Eisenhower Elementary. I was the new kid in class for the third time, thanks to my brother's penchant for getting expelled.

Cute, petite Donna with her brown, bobbed hair and glasses. She introduced herself and showed me the ropes. I was a poor kid at what was seen to be one of the wealthier schools in town. Only I didn't know I was poor, and looking back, everyone else must have.

Half of the kids who went to school there were cousins or had known each other for life. Not so for me. But there was tiny little Donna, courageously welcoming me, offering me her friendship. I will always remember her independence and strength in doing something different.

There were some not-so-nice girls, too. There was the high school coach's daughter who invited me to her birthday party because "she wanted to make fun of me." A fact she pointed out to me in front of everyone. She taught me that cruelty could make me stronger and more independent. She taught me to choose my friends wisely.

There was the tall girl for whom competition was breath. She took it as a personal affront that within a year I outgrew her. I guess that's what drew her attention because after that, I was her target. She teased and bullied me. I turned to books to escape. Thanks to "tall girl" I found an entire world that would always welcome me. I also learned to stand up for myself. Those were powerful gifts.

I probably didn't feel like I fit in until I hit high school. But, there were girls along the way whom I learned from.

There were the Cox girls, Camille and Melissa. They taught me about sisterhood. They taught me that no matter how much you fought, sisters were sisters for life. They stood up for one another. They looked out for one another. They taught me the importance of girl power. They also taught me about fashion and makeup. I should have listened more. I'm still a little too into comfort. I clean up nicely, though.

They were there for me when my grandad died, when I got married, when my mom died. I'm still in contact with Melissa. She's the most positive person I've ever met. I certainly hope I learn that lesson!

There was the best friend who thought it was OK to see my first boyfriend behind my back. We lived, breathed ate and slept at each others' houses. I think losing her was worse than losing him. I did learn a few things, though. Friendship is not one-sided. It's not convenient. It takes work.

I did, however, gain a new best friend out of the deal. I wasn't the only one my former friend had hurt.

Brandi Brown and I were best buds. Our mutual hurt was a starting point. We lived around the corner from each other. We gave each other rides to school. We spent part of every day together. We were inseparable on the weekends. We were very different people. Her parents were lawyers. Mine were blue collar. She was beautiful. I was awkward at best. Somehow, though, we fit. Friendship was easy with her. She taught me to dream and go after those dreams.

After high school, we kind of lost touch. We went to different colleges and grew apart, but she left footprints on my heart. I was at her wedding, and she was at mine. She was there for me at Mom's funeral, too.

There were others, too. Lisa Legleiter, Raelene Harper and ValJean Johnson to name a few. They taught me there's a lighter side to life. They taught me to dance, to have fun. To smile more. They also taught me rum is good.

Raelene also taught me that competition among friends could be a healthy thing. We were in journalism classes together. I like to think that we challenged each other to be better and work harder.

Cheryl Detmer and I have been friends since junior high. What hasn't she taught me? Her independence and laughter are a beautiful thing. She was there through breakups, breakthroughs and new life directions. She spent the night with me before the SATs. We went to senior prom together. I was at her wedding. She was a bridesmaid in mine. I borrowed her earrings, and she calmed me down when Mom and I had a fight. She's taught me that time and distance don't matter. Whenever we talk it's like we've never been apart.

In college, four people stand out. Laura Pelletier, Kathy Smith, Lora Gilliland and Amy Culling. I met three of them in the dorms as a freshman. I met Amy my junior year. All are still dear friends.

Laura and I were roommates for at least a couple of years. Her intelligence, sense of humor, love of books and all things vampire appealed to me from the start. Laura, is there any Vampire movie we didn't watch? We never had classes together, but we were inseparable nonetheless.

Her laugh was and is infectious. There wasn't anything we couldn't talk about. She almost became my sister-in-law. She introduced me to my husband. She attended my wedding. Laura taught me to analyze things and people, to debate effectively, to be strong, to go after what I want in life and that I could achieve my dreams. She gave me confidence. She taught me to believe in myself.

Kathy Tryon is such a beautiful influence. We had Spanish class together. We lived down the hall from each other. We were study buddies. She taught me you can be both serious and silly and that you can always put off laundry, as long as you have enough clothes. She's always positive. She's a friend forever and another for whom time stands still when we're apart.

We've gotten together a few times over the years. She was in my wedding. My husband videotaped hers. She was there for me when my mom was ill. My family and I drove down to San Diego to watch her husband run a marathon. Our kids are close in age. I wish we lived closer, but thank God for Facebook.

Kathy, Lora Gilliland and I had our own version of The Three Musketeers on our trips to Aggieville. Lora taught me that not all the cool kids suck. Some could be beautiful, fun, talented, smart, sensitive and kind all wrapped into one.

She and Kathy together taught me that college was more than classes and life is what you make of it. They showed me how to balance work and fun, to be bold, say what you think and reach for the brass ring.

Amy Culling was a friend of my husband first, but we became college roommates when she returned from Germany. We were kindred spirits from the start. We loved antiques, cooking, the same TV shows. Amy is a powerhouse of energy and ideas. An entrepreneur, a shoulder to cry on, a friend for life.

We live close enough to see each other once every three years or so, but it feels as if we've never been apart. She was my maid of honor. She taught me how to go with the flow no matter what life hands you.

There are others.

Kim Kirkham, for instance, taught me compassion, strength, sincerity and perseverance. She also taught me what it takes to be a good manager and how to walk the line between friendship and work. She was there for me when my mom died and even wrote her obituary for me. Kim gave me advice on my career and showed me how to be true to myself. Again, I wish we lived closer. I'd love for our boys to grow up together.

Linda Martinez is a woman who has taught me much. I don't think I would survive without her. She got me through the first months of motherhood, post-partum depression, my child's hospitalization and more than a few lapses of better judgment. She's watched my kids when I didn't have a babysitter. We've shared holidays, recipes and work. No one can appreciate my tendencies that border on OCD better than Linda. She's taught me how to grocery shop, remain organized despite the chaos and how to balance work and family and still get everything done. In some ways, she's my idol.

There's Maria Saint, who's taught me how to be selfless, gracious and thankful without being a pushover. Her friendship and the strength we shared with each other through the layoffs will never be forgotten. Her gentle spirit inspires me to be a better person. This woman is truly named.

Kim Lamb Gregory has taught me to laugh in the face of adversity. To always look on the bright side of life (pun intended). She's my mentor in many ways. I aspire to write with her depth of feeling and humor. She instinctively knows what to say when someone needs uplifting words. She's given me strength many days without even knowing it.

Last, but most definitely not least are my sisters of the soul, my friends and kindred spirits, Vicki Snyder and Maisha Elonai. If I could choose sisters, they would be at the top of my list. They're my partners in crime, my go-to gals, my lifelines. Though we don't have traveling pants to hold us together, we have cell phones and Facebook and holiday visits.

They've taught me so very much. Potential is never-ending, women are capable of anything, how to laugh, how to play, even how to breathe.

Mai and I shared online RPG games, a love of renaissance faires, poetry, literature, music, vampires, the beach and exercise. She was there with my husband and me when our first child was born. She kept me company when he fell asleep.

When Mai moved, I lost a little bit of myself. The friendship has remained strong even though it's been six years. I've made one trip to Philly and she comes here once or twice a year to visit her parents. We always try to steal a day to hang out. Thanks Mom and Dad Elonai for sharing your very, very special daughter. I love you, Mai.

Vicki and I shared motherhood, music, deep dark secrets, vampires (what's with the vampire thing?), literature, work, movies, music, recipes, ideas, philosophy and every corner of our lives. It helped that our husbands were best buds, too. Vicki gave me the ability to look at things objectively. She was honest, even when I didn't want to hear it.

When the Snyders moved, I lost another bit of myself. We still connect. Not as often as I would like, but a three-hour time difference is hard to manage with children. Whatever the intervals, though, I know she's there if I need her. I love you, Vicki.

So, this is my sisterhood. Every person here and many not mentioned, have made my life richer, truer and more beautiful.

Thank you!

Something to be said for futility

So, I spent the morning weeding our backyard flower beds.

Remember my previous posts about futile tasks. I just did this a couple of weeks ago. How is it that the flowers take so much effort to grow roots and bloom, yet a dandelion can grow 2 feet tall with no water and have a 6 inch root in less than two weeks.?

I miss my gardener. He kept the flower beds weeded, the bushes trimmed, the grass mowed and the sidewalks edged. The garden was fabulous when someone else tended it.

We had to let the gardener go when I was laid off. I hated to do it, but we had to cut where we could. We also scaled back the cell phone options, quit going out to eat as much and started shopping much more carefully for groceries and necessities. We cut out movies and canceled day care. The trickle-down theory of economics is alive and well in our household.

The theory was that since I wasn't working, I would have time to weed the garden. The mowing Eric would do on the weekends.

Growing season is here, and mowing and weeding are falling behind. Even though I'm home, I don't get much gardening done. Morgan thinks that helping Mommy involves digging huge holes in the flower beds and swiping all the tools. I won't even talk about watering duties. Mud Monster comes to mind every time I think about it.

I'm just not as good as the gardener. Growing things well is a skill, pruning a talent. I don't really know what I'm doing. I'm kinda winging it. When I lived in Kansas and Texas, I couldn't keep anything alive. I even killed a cactus! I'm doing better now, but I think it has more to do with the climate than improved skills.

The pansies and impatience are eeking out a living among the weeds. The Kerry lilies are out of control, the St. Augustine's grass is making a comeback, The roses I got around to pruning are doing well -- the others, not so well. The azaleas are growing well, although they are looking rather spindly. Perhaps we should have pruned them? The orchid tree has finally taken root and has a nice sized trunk, but the branches are all leaning to one side around the rubber tree plant.

The daisies are taking over the back yard. I don't think anything will kill them. The new gardenia plants seem to be doing fairly well. They started blooming this week. That makes me happy. It reminds me that even though I may not be the best gardener, there's beauty in every bit of the hard labor.

Even the dandelions are pretty when plucked by Morgan's little hands and handed to me as a present, with his bright little eyes shining and a grin from ear to ear. All the gardener's skills couldn't replace the beauty of those special moments.

A diatribe on cleaning and laundry

Housework is a futile task.

The dusting

What is the point? I go through with my Pledge and an old, holey socks spraying and wiping to ensure I've gotten every last spec. I carefully dust all the tchotchkes, working from the top down so as not to spread any more dust on already cleaned surfaces.

It takes about three hours, mostly because I get distracted putting away everything that has been left atop tables and counters attempting to find the surfaces that need dusting.

Once I finish, I go back to the living room to enjoy my dust-free home only to find that the black TV has attracted every dust spec that was launched into the air by my dusting. Or my husband has opened the windows during Santa Ana winds and in comes every small bit of dirt that's been carried to Oxnard from Bakersfield.

Oh, and all that stuff I put away to get to the tabletops? It's already been replaced by the day's newspaper and mail. When the kids come home, homework is added to the pile along with school notifications and my eldest's books and drawings. When the husband gets home, he adds every scrap of paper on which he's ever written a note to himself and every receipt he's collected during the day.

The Dishes

We eat three times a day. There are four of us. Sometimes, we have snacks. I like to cook. I like to bake. I have two boys.

All this generates a ton of dishes. I'm really glad we installed a dishwasher when we remodeled. I have very few dishes that can't go in the dishwasher now, just all my pots and pans and bakeware.

Grocery shopping

See Above.

I used to go shopping once a week, at one grocery store, when I could squeeze it in between laundry and picking up the house and all the other weekend errands. Now that I'm not working and the budget is a lot tighter, I go shopping three to four times a week. Mostly because I shop at all three big grocery chains, looking for the best deals and stocking up.

On Wednesday's after the mail comes, I sit down with the ads and comparison shop, making lists for each store. Then, I go through all the coupons I've clipped from the newspaper and printed from online coupon clubs and figure out which ones I'm using at which store.

I then fit the grocery shopping in between picking up the kids and other errands. It works out pretty well, especially since we run out of milk at least twice a week. After all, my refrigerator only holds two gallons plus the assorted juices and such.

I try to hit the farmer's markets on the weekends if I can, too.

The laundry

I used to squeeze laundry in on the weekends in between grocery shopping, errands and everything else that couldn't get done while I was working full time. Weekends had become chore days instead of fun days. I'm sure many can relate.

Now I do laundry during the week. By Friday night, all the laundry is done, folded and, well, sitting in the laundry room waiting to be put away. How is it that by Sunday night, there's at least three loads to be done?

There are only four people in my family, But there are PJs, underclothes, swimming towels and suits after swimming lessons. T-ball jersey and pants, jeans and long sleeves from the morning when it's cool, shorts and T-shirts from the hotter afternoons, dirty clothes from gardening, sheets from when the little one wet the bed and their accompanying blankets and wet PJs, kitchen towels from God-only-knows what mess and that shirt that just must be washed before Monday morning for school.

I think I might have been better off when I was working. Expectations were lower.

Now on to vacuuming

*Disclaimer*Disclaimer* Disclaimer* My husband does the vacuuming in our house, but I still think it's futile. *Disclaimer*Disclaimer* Disclaimer*

The goal is to vacuum at least three times a week. The reality is that we're lucky if we get it done once a week. Like the table tops, it takes twice as long because all the toys, newspapers, DVD cases and, well, crap, has to be moved first.

He vacuum's the entire house from one end to the other. Then I go back and to dust the wood floors.

There are two areas of our house where dust bunnies hold what must be state conventions. There's the corner of the dining room right beneath the china cabinet where no dust mop or Swiffer will reach. It must be done on hands and knees. Then there's the corner of the entryway, beneath the catch-all chair that contains every backpack and jacket we've ever owned in our lifetime. Yes, there's a closet, but why hang things up when you're just gonna use it again?

Once that's done, there's the kitchen floor.

*Disclaimer*Disclaimer* Disclaimer* This, too is my husband's futile responsibility, mostly because he drops as many crumbs as the boys. *Disclaimer*Disclaimer* Disclaimer*

I love the smell of a freshly mopped kitchen floor. As soon as that floor is dry, though, here come the crumbs. I have a 3-year-old after all. He tries to help by taking his dishes to the kitchen. Unfortunately, he hasn't figured out that you have to hold the plate upright, not dump the crumbs on the floor in transit. I thought the point of having a dog was so she would get all the crumbs. Apparently, some just aren't up to snuff.

Then there's the occasional flying pieces of chopped vegetables that seem to have a life of their own. I like to bake, too, so there's always a thin dusting of flour somewhere, no matter how much I try to clean up.

By the time I've made dinner and spread my vegetables about, the toys, books, papers and DVD cases are, once again, all over the living room floor.

Now the Bathrooms

*Disclaimer*Disclaimer* Disclaimer* I gave up cleaning the bathrooms when our oldest started potty training. I sit, therefore I don't spray. Thus, I am not responsible for that mess. *Disclaimer*Disclaimer* Disclaimer*

The above statement pretty much explains it. As soon as it's cleaned, I take a nice, long bath and enjoy the lemon fresh scent. About 20 minutes later, it's time to start over. Someone's had an accident, someone's filled the tub with mud after digging worms in the backyard, someone's aim is off.

The mess never used to bother me quite this much. I'm pretty much sure I know what changed. Now that I'm not out of the house 40-plus hours a week, I have to look at it, live with it, breathe it. When I was working, it was easier to ignore.

I used to only clean for company or special occasions, now I clean to remain sane and somewhat organized.

Housework is more futile than ever!

TV junkies go cold turkey, sort of

Ok, I admit it!

We are a household of TV junkies. I love TV. My husband loves TV. My kids love TV. My 3-year-old is a Noggin addict.

Our Tivo can attest to how much we love TV. Here's a typical weekly list:

• "Chuck" (Zachary Levi is a Buena grad and Ventura County native and a hoot to boot) "Heroes" (the story's been shaky, but it's getting better again.)
• "Castle" (I love Nathan Fillion, sexy and funny. What's not to love?)
• "Medium" (their marriage is just so real!)
• "Two and a Half Men" (No, the kids don't watch it, but Charlie reminds me of my brother, and what's not to love about the writing here? Event the vanity cards are funny.)
• "American Idol" (My ONLY reality indulgence, wait there's "Last Comic Standing" and "America's Got Talent" but they don't count because they're not in season.)
• "Reaper" (The devil has a good son with two sidekicks that remind me of my husband's college buddies -- sorry guys. How cool is that?)
• "Fringe" (Talk about your mad scientist, and he's funny, too.)
• "Lie to Me" (I really like the way they show political and pop culture figures of the past and how their facial expressions give them away.)
• "Smallville" (This one was great in the beginning, but is dragging a bit. I did mention I was a geek, right?)
• "Supernatural" (I just love those guys. What a real sibling realtionship despite the whole demon-hunting gig. And the 80s music is great. This season's writing has been pretty sharp, too.)
• "Clone Wars" (The kids and my husband watch this one.)
• "Legend of the Seeker" (I mentioned in my profile that I was a Robert Jordan fan).

There are other shows, but the rest are in the off-season or have ended. This list doesn't take into account Morgan's addiction to Noggin. That's kind of an all day thing. "Yo Gabba Gabba," "Ni Hao, Kai-lan," "Wow! Wow! Wubzy," Dora, Diego, "The Wonder Pets," and "Pinky, Dinky Doo" Just to name a few. It's preschool on TV, right?

Then you have to add in the video games and computer time. There's the Xbox, the Wii, News sites, YouTube and Facebook (want to join my Mafia or my Vampires clan? just look me up and friend me), blogger, Bejeweled and Word Challenge to name a few. I had to end my addiction to "Ultima Online" when the kids were born or they would have been neglected.

Wow, seeing all this in a list is a bit like an intervention.

But, I don't watch commercials, unless they are trailers for movies. And I usually do the computer thing while I'm watching TV, so that negates those hours, says the addict.

But, alsas, this week has been TV Turnoff Week. The rules were no TV, no video games, no movies. Go unplugged.

We started off right on Sunday with a trip to see the Dodgers blast the Rockies. What a great game! On Monday evening we worked on homework with the Gabe, our first-grader, and read together, making up for the days we hadn't read over Spring Break last week. Eric built a model Mach 6 race car with the boys, too (Speed Racer was one of my favorite cartoons as a kid). I was working on last-minute preparation for the kids' Pajama Reading Night later in the week.

On Tuesday, Morgan spent a rare day at day care. He wasn't under my watch, so I'm not responsible if he watched "Shark Tale" and other movies.

I took a friend out to lunch for her birthday. (Happy Birthday again, Maria!). Then I picked Gabe up after school and took him shopping for shorts. It was really hot and all his shorts were too small. The kid grows faster than the weeds in the backyard. After that, I picked up Morgan and we met Eric for a Family Night Out fundraiser for the school. Mmmmm Me and Ed's Pizza and Cold Stone for dessert. Sorry Weight Watchers! At least it was for a good cause.

While we were eating pizza, Morgan kept suggesting we turn off the restaurant's TVs since it was TV Turnoff Week. I was proud of him, and it was kinda cute. Afterward, the kids headed home with Eric, and I went to a grant-writing committee meeting.

Things got a bit shaky when I got home, the kids were asleep. Eric and I said our hellos and stole quick glances at one another. Then, we snuggled up in our easy chairs and turned on the TV. The kids wouldn't know, they were fast asleep, right?

We headed to bed somewhere after midnight, after burning off our energy points in Mafia Wars on Facebook. My husband is more addicted than I am, I swear.

Wednesday was busy with last-minute prep for PJ Reading Night and getting this blog up and running. So, Morgan, shaking hard from not seeing any Noggin, was allowed to turn on the Xbox, so Mommy could work. Gabe wouldn't find out, right?

I have to say, I enjoyed wearing Pajamas all day. We looked a little silly at Presto Pasta eating dinner in pajamas. Oh well, let them stare. I was having fun in my sock-monkey slippers (Thanks Vicki). They matched my tropical pajamas that have monkeys on them. Who says PJs can't be stylish. Ironically, Gabe was wearing "Ben 10" Pjs during TV Turnoff Week.

PJ reading night was a success thanks to community volunteers who read to the kids. One couple read and signed to student interested in sign language. A graphic artist read to kindergartners. She brought in markers and coloring pages, too. There was the priest who knew the Frank family and read from "The Diary of Anne Frank," a version that included some of the original, unedited writing. I was told that hearing the passages from someone who knew them was awesome. There were also the Ironman finalist from the YMCA, Ventura County Star newspaper employees, military personnel and other dedicated community members who deserve more thanks than I could ever offer.

The most rewarding part, though, was seeing students come up to the volunteers afterward, thanking them and saying they would be going to the library to check out the books or others by the same authors. I have a feeling there will be a run on Madelaine L'Engle books this week.

It's amazing how a few hours of volunteer work can open doors for children and open their eyes to new worlds and new opportunities. The bright looks on those tired, pajama-clad, TV starved students were worth all the hard work involved. It brought back good memories from my childhood: My brother introducing me to the "Alfred Hitchcock and The Three Investigators" series; reading "Charlotte's Web" in the bay window in my childhood room; devouring historical fiction by John Jakes; and spending my summer days in the Hoisington, Kan., library with it's air conditioning, comfy chairs and very, very tolerant librarians.

When I finally got home, Eric showed me a video of the funny dance that Gabe and Morgan made up while I was out. Afterward, we looked at each other and grinned. The kids were all snug in their beds, sound asleep. We tip-toed out to the living room, snuggled in our easy chairs with our blankets and watched a little more TV. We had to see who was kicked off "American Idol" this week.

Thursday was an early start. Morgan running around the house saying, "I want to watch TV," a few billion times before we left the house at 9 a.m. There was his Spring Fling class at the parks and rec, my Weight Watchers meeting and spending time with Maria and her new baby, Clarissa. Morgan was in tow and, well, we turned on the Xbox at Maria's house to keep him entertained so we could talk. After that, it was pick up Gabe, go buy yo-yos at the 99c store (please don't ask, it's a loooong story), and run a few more errands. By 6:30, p.m., I was back at the school for a PTSO meeting.

I was finally home about 1 a.m. The meeting didn't last that long, but a few of us just decided drinks were a good idea afterward. Oh, and guess what, the Lakers game just happened to be on TV at JJ Brewskys. Good game, too. What? no, I wasn't watching. *wink*

When I got home, logged on to Facbook and Mafia Wars to burn off points. I admit it, it's an addiction! Thanks Anthony and Kim. It was your idea to drag me in, right?

So, this morning I'm dragging my heels. Morgan has played a few video games. He's turning into a zombie, walking around the house saying, "I want to watch TV. I love TV," repeatedly. Walking around the neighborhood just wasn't as stimultating, I guess.

We have done other things this week, too. Morgan and I have read "Mrs. Piccolo's Easy Chair" a few hundred times. We've gone for several walks and stopped and smelled the roses. We spent time making faces at each other, pretended a yo-yo was a fishing line and had several attacks of the Tickle Monster.

Gabe has watched the bees on the flowers in the yard, played with the ladybugs and let them go, read a lot, played Frisbee, played catch, watched the stars and actually sat and talked to us about something other than video games.

Tonight is Family Game Night at the school. It'll be fun. Right down my alley with the Renaissance theme, board games and games of skill. But, I'm betting Tivo will be calling when we get home. I know the kids will be glad to watch movies and their favorite TV shows, but maybe in the weeks to come, we'll spend a little more time in the back yard, having friends for dinner and enjoying the sunsets.

Our report card:

Gabe, A
Morgan, C
Alicia and Eric F
Extra time we spent together, priceless.

Back to blogging

Hello!

It's been a few years since my last post, but I think I'm ready to get started again. Some of you may be wondering why I picked "Life in Chaos" for a title. Well, it just seemed fitting.

When I first started this blog in December 2004, I was working full time and more as a multimedia editor for a newspaper Web site. It was busy, exciting and tons of fun. I was also raising a son, then 2, and remodeling my house.

It's amazing where a 2-year-old's imagination can go in the middle of a gutted kitchen with construction crews and tons of tools. It's difficult to feed a child without a kitchen and, well, difficult to live at home during a remodel. It's also hard to manage a remodel while working 40-plus hours a week and raising a child and a husband. So, you can imagine the chaos of my life at the time.

I continued to post through the remodel and right up until May of 2005. We were still putting the finishing touches on the remodel, relandscaping the backyard and potty training our son. That's when I found out I was pregnant with our second child.

Life has a way of throwing me surprises. According to my Grand Plan, that wasn't supposed to happen until October 2005, after our much-delayed trip to Hawaii with friends.

Well, it's been a few years. We've now potty trained our youngest (Yay! no more diapers), and we're back on track. Sort of. I forgot to mention the latest round of chaos.

At the end of last year:

• My husband was diagnosed with thyroid cancer
• I was laid off from my job of 13 years because of the downturn in the newspaper industry
• I was scheduled to undergo a uterine ablation surgery
• My husband had his thyroid removed
• I was bitten by a spider and had to undergo another surgery
• The medical bills were piling up

We still haven't been to Hawaii. I think that's going to be put on hold for awhile. I'm working on reinventing myself, looking for a job and spending lots of quality time with my kids.

While the latest round of chaos was a bit of a blow, there have been many underlying blessings, too:

• Eric is recovering well and all information indicates the surgery was curative.
• I was given the kick in the pants that I needed to get out of a dying industry, although I will mourn its decline until the end of my days.
• I was able to be home with my husband during his recovery
• We were able to have a month off as a family over the holidays for the first time EVER.
• I get to be a full-time mom with all its joys, work,and, yes, chaos
• My house has never been cleaner or more organized
• I'm not under mountains of stress anymore and am regaining my life
• I've lost 43 pounds and am well on my way to a healthier more productive life
• All of this has brought me closer to my family
• I get the chance to start over and do things I've always wanted to do
• But, most of all, this has reminded me of the important things in life - family, friends and the simple pleasures

Sometimes chaos is just what we need to gain a little perspective.