Sweet signs

You know how when sometimes you start down a new path and you think it feels right (or conversely, very wrong) but there are no guarantees? And you think, if someone could just give me a sign...tell me whether I am doing the right thing or not?

Well, things have been going quite swimmingly with my new job so far in that I've really been enjoying the work, the people, the big furry kitty cats outside my office door (who they tell me I can't pet), the fact that it's five minutes from my house (well, plus the 25 extra minutes the daycare drop off and/or pick up takes)... Still - it's always nice to get a "sign" that lets you know in no uncertain terms that you have made a good move. Well, today I got that "sign." It came in the form of a cupcake. But not just any cupcake...this was a special cupcake. Let me explain.

You see, once a month we have an all-staff meeting where birthdays of the month are always celebrated...with treats. The one for January was this afternoon. I had heard rumblings of sugar around the office, but of course I'm thinking the usual cake thing or something like that. Well, I walk into the conference room to this cute little tray of fancy-looking cupcakes. My first thought: "Cupcakes...yummy!" My second thought: "Where are those from?" Because I didn't recognize them and there are only two fancy cupcake shops in town and let's just say we are very familiar with both of them. Then, they get passed around and I hear something about Cold Stone. Cold Stone? Huh? What? I'm sorry, but are these....ICE CREAM CUPCAKES??? No way! Well, yes way!!

After much debate, I chose the one with an Oreo neatly placed on top, but here were all the choices. And please, don't even ask if it was good. Of course it was good - it was a COLD STONE CUPCAKE! This, I had never heard of. And it was super cute, which of course did not stop me from eating it. Even the cupcake "wrapper" was edible - a dark chocolate hard shell. So clever.

So, in the end, I ask, could there have been a better sign that I'm in the right place than a group who brings in ice cream cupcakes for birthday celebrations? I think not.

Until I write again.

I'm tumbling for the Tumble Bus!

Which, given the status of my back these days is saying a lot. First, let me

back up a bit. On January 10 my first little baby, Ian, turned five. Wow! It was like, just yesterday that I was pregnant, severely wine deprived and thinking I was crazy for ever deciding to become a parent and bam (!), I've got a five year old who will be getting ready to head off to Kindergarten soon. (Deep breath, deep breath...we'll save that topic for another post.)

So, for the first four years of Ian's life we never really had a birthday "party" for him. All were more like VERY small family gatherings. And that was just fine with us. And, it was just fine with him, too, until the past couple of years when we started getting to know more people in Portland and he started getting a clue that many of his friends got actual parties for their birthdays. By age 4.5(ish), our cover was blown...it was clear this kid deserved a real party for his fifth birthday. Fine. Okay, so it happens to fall at the tail end of the holiday season when we are already exhausted from Thanksgiving, Christmas...and did I mention that child #2 decided that she needed her birthday squeezed in there too? No biggie. I can handle one more "event," right?

By early December I was brainstorming location options. One thing we definitely knew is that we were absolutely, positively not having it at home. Somewhere I heard that fire stations gave free tours to kids AND had community rooms they rented out. And there it was...my big idea. We'd have a fire station bday party! The kids would tour the station and then have cake and ice cream in the community room. Done deal. Until the nice fire people told me they didn't like little kids shoving cake into the carpet in their community rooms and preferred that the party portion be held "elsewhere." Geez, touchy, touchy. I mean, really, how busy are they with all that time they sit around the firehouse waiting for calls that they couldn't afford to clean up a little cake? Anyway, so, for about 10 minutes I brainstormed how I could pull off a two-location bday party and then did what I always do...posted a message on DCUM for advice. Well, those lovely ladies on the east coast who never mince words told me it was a stupid idea that would never work.

Then, someone responds and says, "You know, Johnny went to a bday party recently where they had a bus come to their house that had been gutted and the kids played inside the bus and it was a huge hit. The kids played in the bus for a while, went in and had cake and then we all left. And it was brilliant because half the party everyone was out of the house!" Hmm....that sounds strangely similar to that bus that comes to Ian's preschool every now and then that has been gutted and the kids play inside the bus and it's a huge hit...called the Tumble Bus! Let me just see if they have a website...yep, yep, there it is...and if they do birthday parties...yep, yep they do! Well, faster than you can say gymnastics I was on the phone to Isaac ("Ike" as I later learned the kids call him) who was kinder than kind and more relaxed than I could ever imagine being...taking my reservation to show up at our house on Sat, Jan 8 for Ian's fifth birthday.

And there it was - the bones of a real birthday party. Invites went out. (Thanks Tiny Prints - you rock!) and at 3pm on Jan. 8th, several small children showed up on our doorstep. (About 10, to be exact.) Five minutes after 3pm, right when things were starting to get out of control inside, Isaac showed up in his big, yellow gutted Tumble Bus. Oh shoot, time to head outside! I attempted to act like I knew how to control a whole group of small children by asking them to form a line so we could all walk outside to the bus. Um yeah, let's just say that thankfully they all made it safely to the bus parked on the side of the house. Once inside, it became immediately clear that "Ike" was no amateur. He actually knew what h

e was doing, and he did it well. And judging by the amount of smiles and level of giggling, the kids appeared the LOVE him, his partner and his gutted yellow bus. They did stretches, they played silly games and they they ran around the bus and jumped on a trampoline, swung from rings and climbed ladders for 45 minutes before it was time to come back inside. Ike made a point of quickly learning the name of every child and using it often...he was really awesome.

After they were all wiped out, (actually, who am I kidding? They are five year olds...they weren't wiped out at all.) they came inside for cake and then a book exchange where I once again attempted to create order among a group where no order seemed possible. (And they pay teachers what for this kind of job???) In the end, everyone got their cake, their book and then spent a little time at the very end doing their best to tear apart our living room. Just kidding. In reality, they were quite good.

All in all, I do believe that Ian's party was a success (it was reported that when I was out of earshot he had declared it "the best birthday ever!"...which sounds amazingly similar to when he declared this Christmas "the best Christmas ever!") and no small animals at all were harmed during the party...though that might have been because we learned from Elena's small gathering in November that it was best to lock Zach up downstairs in the mud room. Poor thing.

Three cheers for the Tumble Bus! (And for the ladies of DCUM who still manage to often come through for me in a pinch.)

Until I write again.

Pantry...or work of art?

I knew my destiny when I went to bed at about 1am New Year's Eve and woke up a few hours later thinking about my pantry. Yes, my pantry. The one I had reached in a few days earlier to grab a bag of rice (because what else would I be eating?) and the whole thing dumped open all over the place. If you've never had the pleasure of cleaning up rice from the back an overcrowded pantry - consider yourself lucky.

By 4am I had decided exactly what I'd be doing at least half of my New Year's Day: cleaning and reorganizing my pantry! After that I was going to clean out all the papers in my office and create a new filing system, and then fill all those photo albums with the pictures I had ordered months ago. Oh, and do just a minor reorg to the storage closet in the den/my office as well. (In case you haven't figured it out, "nesting" isn't just for people having babies...it's also for people who are about to return to work after a 2.5 year hiatus.)

By 8:30(ish) the next morning, I was hard at work. I recruited Jeff to sit with me and go through everything that was in there and vote whether to keep or toss. For instance, anything that was branded "Harris Teeter," which was our store in Virginia - we decided was probably worth tossing at this point. By 10am, with the entire room in complete disarray, it was time to make trip #1 to Target (hooray for stores who don't let their employees take holidays off!). No comment on how long I spent there sorting through storage options. Armed with what I believed would certainly be way too many things, I arrived back home and began the task of putting everything back together. By about 1pm, with Ian halfway through his second movie and still in his jammies (whoops) and Elena taking marathon naps, it was clear I still had a long journey ahead of me...and not enough storage items. Enter trip #2 to Target. Still, I was not ready to call "uncle" on my other planned projects for the day. After all, it was only about 3:30pm by this point. There was still time!

By 6pm as Jeff was opening the wine, finishing the mashed potatoes and pulling our New Years prime rib out of the oven - I was strategically placing the last containers of cereal into our newly organized area. Needless to say, I was exhausted and had to give up my dream of finishing the other projects for the day (but fear not - I got some done today!). But let me tell you, it is a beauty. Of course here is where it would seem natural that you'd look below this paragraph and see a picture of the finished product - but this is where I see that it's nearing 10pm and rather than go get my camera, take a pic and download it to the blog, I must be off to bed. After all, I do have a job to get to in the morning, you know.

Until I write again.

The best Christmas ever!

Or at least this is what Ian declared as we "wrapped" up our Christmas presents yesterday morning. Of course all I was thinking was, thank God we found that damn Cars set on Amazon had it rushed here at the last minute, otherwise we would have been front runners...again...on the "Lamest Parents of 2010" list. Maybe you haven't heard of it but it's a feature they run every January in Parenting Magazine. We've been runner-ups every year since Ian was born. So unfortunate. But this year we saved ourselves. Whew.

Truth be told, I don't know that was the BEST Christmas ever...I mean, I probably got fewer presents than normal which makes it just okay right there, but it was far from bad for sure. In fact, come to think of it, okay, it actually was pretty great. A few weeks ago when we were in the middle of all the hustle and bustle and we also had a few other things going on, I told Jeff one day that I had come to a new realization that the holiday season no longer represented a carefree, extra joyous time of year; rather it had come to represent a certain amount of added stress and pressure with the extra "to-do" list at hand. I'm not sure when this feeling snuck up on me...I guess kind of like that "Christmas Five" many of us experience after the holidays. Just not sure how those extra lbs. "sneak up" on you. But I digress. Of course this thought made me a bit sad but still I thought it all the way up to the nonstop traffic and running around I did last Thursday to appointments and last minute errands with everyone else in the Portland metro area. Believe me, there could have been a whole rendition of Jingle Bells with the horns I heard a honkin' just trying to get out of the strip mall parking lot. Ugh. But then this wonderful thing happened....

The clock struck 6pm and while the Burplings were home all snuggled at the dinner table with their dad, all the stress of the season melted away and a lovely long weekend began that reminded me why this season really is so special. It started with a great night out with my next door neighbors (at least the women part of the equation) and turned into a fun afternoon cookie decorating party with school friends on Christmas Eve afternoon, which then turned into a wonderful family gathering of neighbors on Christmas Eve with presents exchanged a lots of laughter (kids and adults alike). Seeing the excitement of the kids as they tracked Santa online throughout the night was so fun. And, of course Ian was as excited as he's ever been about Santa's visit that night and what he would leave him.

When we got home Friday night, Ian proudly left Santa a plate of milk and cookies on the kitchen counter (which Jeff had no problem consuming approximately 2.6 seconds after Ian went to bed) and we all jumped in his bed and read "Twas the Night Before Christmas" together. The morning brought smiles to all our faces as Ian discovered his new Cars race track

exclaiming it was "exactly what he wanted!" Again...whew. Bullet dodged there. The lack of a Stars Wars Lego set was briefly noted but seemed to be quickly made up for by the spotting of none other than...wait for it....wait for it...The Pillow Pet!!! Yay!!!It's a Pillow! It's a Pet! It's a Pillow Pet!!

Now if you're wondering where our littlest Burpo was at this time, well, she was still snoozing so she kinda missed out on the whole Santa-presents-under-the-tree experience, but we're guessing she was okay with that. Really, as long as her oatmeal and banana were waiting for her as soon

as she awoke (and believe me, they were), we had achieved Star Parent status in her world. After breakfast we did a round robin of gift opening. (Elena only made it partially through before it was her nap time...geez that kid sleeps a lot.) Unlike last year where Ian tended to tear through presents as quickly as possible without really knowing - or caring - who it was from, he totally got the concept of "reading" and appreciating who had given him each gift and that we were all taking joy in seeing everyone take turns and open their gifts. It was so fun to see him light up with each new gift he opened, but at the same time see him help and be excited for the gifts Elena received...as well as Jeff and myself.

The rest of the day we just spent hanging out...Jeff and I cooked the equivalent of a Thanksgiving dinner while Ian played with several of his new toys and Elena...well, she

played some, slept some, ate a lot. And, of course smiled, and said "Bye bye!" and "Hi!" a lot in-between. As Jeff says, she doesn't say much yet but what she does say, she sure says really well! She really puts a lot of smiles on the faces of all three of us, that's for sure.

After we all retired from dinner in the "formal" dining room and we put Elena to bed for the night, we let Ian stay up late again and we all snuggled on the couch to watch one of Ian's presents from us: Toy Story 3. It's a cute and clever movie for kids and adults alike. Then Ian was off to bed and Jeff and I were left to reflect on how great the day was...and remind ourselves that yes, maybe these days the holidays mean a lot of stress - but the second you see that big smile on your child's face when they come down and see that Santa left them they toy they dreamed of having...well, it's all worth it.

Until I write again.

The unfairness of life

Last week when I "relaunched" Burpo Banter I talked about the family, and the woman in particular, who inspired me to start chronicling our life online again. Last night, Sarah Lopez passed away with her husband, Alan, by her side. Jeff believes that she was 39 - the same age that I am now. Alan will be raising their two boys, ages 8 and 10, alone now but as he has already noted, his angel Sarah will always be at his side.

Jeff and I spent some time tonight sitting together and just appreciating one another, and also reading again through some of Alan and Sarah's blog. We also looked through her Facebook page (she and Jeff were "friends") and saw the many wonderful messages and photos that friends and family had posted for - and of - Sarah. We "heard" Sarah's voice as she commented on old pictures from grade school and high school all the way up to pictures she posted of the present. And of course, we cried. While there are certainly both lovers and haters of the Facebook world we live in now, I can't imagine that Alan will be interested in taking down this page of memories and chronicle of the outpouring of love for Sarah anytime soon.

If there is a positive side to this story, it's that she is no longer suffering and can be at peace now. We sure are thankful for that, and sending thoughts of courage and support to Alan and his sons during this incredibly hard time for them.

Until I write again.

Santa saves the day - and it's not even Christmas!

Okay, so after I posted last night I was definitely feeling a little guilty about the whole not getting Ian either of the gifts he requested thing. But as I said, the Star Wars Legos were just out of the question right now (plus they all start at like age 7) and we really could not decipher what he was trying to tell us about this Cars thing. However, we had attempted to do another grilling in the car on the way home from the illegal Santa portrait session and got just enough information out of him that another Amazon search late last night pulled up what we believe he has been talking about: the Disney/Pixar Cars Playset Piston Cup 500 Track Set. (Just try and say that one five times fast!)

So, being the completely amazing parents that we are, we whipped out the credit card (so handy, those little cards are) and two seconds later we were selecting the "rush shipping" option so our son could have all his dreams come true on Christmas morning. And now Jeff gets to drive BACK to Costco (after he had made a special trip there just yesterday morning) to return what was supposed to be his big Santa present - a tabletop foosball game (actually air hockey was the original idea, but they were sold out) - so he can have his Disney/Pixar Cars Playset Piston Cup 500 Track Set instead. (PS - Do you think the person who named this product realized they used the word "set" twice in the title? Because it's kind of unnecessary, but that's just my opinion.)

I have to say, this Santa stuff is kind of exhausting.

Until I write again.

Sit on Santa's lap...check

Of course no holiday is complete without a visit to the local mall Santa where your kid gets to sit on "Santa's" lap and tell him about the iPod, iPhone and Wii Fit he wants for Christmas. Oh wait, maybe that's me. Anyway, a couple of years ago I was tipped off to a Santa at a large strip mall joint not too far from our house, which is, shall we say, a little less trafficked than Washington Square Mall. (See prior post for more information.) Maybe it's the Hello Kitty store...I mean, is Hello Kitty even still popular?

Still, with the big date fast approaching, we suspected that pretty much any Santa who is worth his weight in presents and reindeer would be quite popular today. So once again, we got strategic (we are a highly strategic group, we Burpos) and decided to head over shortly before Santa's quittin' time for the day. We strolled right up to a lovely woman who said, "Wow, you timed it just right...we've been running at least an hour-long line all day but now we're empty!" "Well lucky us!," I said as I peered over toward Santa who seemed to be stashing a clear bottle behind his chair. Probably some Perrier...I know Santa likes the fancy water.

So off Ian goes to share his biggest hopes and dreams for this Christmas with Santa - which consistently seem to be a Star Wars Lego set (not happening) and a "set" to go with his Cars stuff. Now, "Santa" may actually bring Ian a Cars "set" if "Santa" could ever figure out what he was talking about but since "Santa" (nor Mrs. "Santa") could not and have reason to believe that what he wants might only exist in his head, well, he's probably not getting that either. Of course he's getting plenty of other things - including two other Lego sets that do not feature Lego people shooting one another. (Besides, he has no real clue what Star Wars even is - he just heard about it from someone at school. This is why we need to get him that bubble we keep talking about.)

Truth be told, I hope he's not bummed out on Christmas morning when neither of these items appears under the tree because on the way home when we were asking him exactly what he and Santa conversed about up there, he said he told Santa that he wants these two particular items and "that's all I want for Christmas. Just those two things." Hmmm...well what about that damn "It's a Pillow! It's a Pet! It's a Pillow Pet!" I practically tackled someone for during the gift exchange at Jeff's holiday party and then had to lay down 20 smackers for one at Fred Meyer when they wouldn't give it up because apparently their kid wanted one, too??

Anyway, suffice it to say that all went very well with the Santa visit. Except Elena, who we quickly gathered wasn't into the large man in the red suit yet when she immediately started screaming bloody murder as soon as Jeff sat her down on Santa's other knee next to Ian. Of course it was actually kind of funny but just so as not to be contacted by CPS tomorrow, I suggested to Jeff that he scoop her back up and we just go ahead and take a pass on bro/sis Santa pic this year. Ian did take a couple of cute pictures with Santa, which the lovely woman was more than happy to sell us at the low, low price of $16.95 per shot - but I figured, why do that when I had slipped the ole' Canon PowerShot out of my coat pocket while the lovely woman was occupied at her camera. With that said, here's our official Illegal Mall Santa Shot of 2010. Enjoy!

Until I write again.

Justin Bieber does Washington Square Mall

Or at least that was the only explanation I could think of for the sheer and utter chaos I encountered when I so innocently decided to head out yesterday afternoon to wrap up a little Christmas shopping. Okay, either that or apparently a few other people had the same exact idea I did. Go figure.

I knew the second I entered the mall vicinity that I had made a bad decision. A very bad decision. But when it comes to the mall and shopping, I can not be intimidated. Even if there were 50 gazillion people whose job it was to try and intimidate me. Strategy #1: Instead of waiting in the line of about 156 cars trying to get to the spot next to the main door with my name on it, I immediately zipped into a vacated spot out in the North Forty. Good thing I had my comfy Franco Sarto Bocca flats on. (Love those shoes.) Strategy #2: No browsing allowed. Attack my mission with purpose. And knock down any 13, 15 or 17 year old who might be in the way. A tall order, indeed.

Okay, well here's where strategy ends and honesty begins. Of course I browsed!! But it was very minimal. I wasn't even going to go into Nordstrom at all because it wasn't high on the list of needs for the day but that just seemed like a crime so I kept it to about 10 minutes right at the end, which might be a personal record. I really did stay focused for the most part and within a couple of hours had achieved all of my shopping goals.

I could have kept it even shorter if I hadn't made a detour into a certain store for a large dose of slick marketing by that company that specializes in slick marketing. I won't name names but they sell computers (which I happen to be in the market for) along with a few other cool gadgets (some start with "i") and their logo is a piece of yummy fruit that can be red, green or yellow. And that's all I'm going to say about that for now. But stay tuned for potentially more on one of the great debates of our times...Mac or PC?

On tap today: Target with Ian so he can pick out a gift to give Elena for Christmas. And of course when I say "pick out," I mean attempt to strategically steer him toward the musical piano toy I've already identified for her. (Which I believe is the same one their Cousin Ellie has and loves, which means that we already have two-year-old validation that it's a great gift, so there you go.)

Until I write again. (And until then, I strongly recommend that you not go within five miles of a mall - or any shopping area - if you can avoid it.)

I'm baaack...

Well, some may have noticed (or not) that it's been a while since I've posted to the ole' Burpo Banter. In fact, so long that we had another child and she's already turned one! Elena is her name, in case you're wondering - and you may hear something else about her from time to time.

Believe it or not, I've thought a lot about "relaunching" the blog over the past three to 12 months but thinking is clearly about as far as it got. So why now? Why on December 17, 2010? Well, I read another family blog this week that greatly inspired me. You see, a college friend of Jeff's met and married the love of his life while they were at Rice University. They had two beautiful boys and generally, life was good until she was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2006. That's when, together, they embarked on a long journey of hope. Hope for a cure. Hope that the cancer wouldn't spread. (It did.) Hope that some treatment would work. (It didn't.) After many hours of chemo and many days spent in and out of the hospital over the past several years while they maintained as much courage and positive attitude as they could, this week they learned that they have run out of options and as Jeff's friend puts it, they are now focused on hope of a different kind: hope that he can keep his soul mate as comfortable as possible until the end and that their family can cherish their remaining days together.

Jeff - and I through him - have been following this painful story through the magic of Facebook, but also through a beautiful blog that they have chosen to share with loved ones...and the world, really. It so eloquently chronicles their path through this difficult time, yet also shows the amazing courage of all four of them as in between updates on chemo and other treatments, you see pictures of smiling boys with their parents on holidays, birthdays, their first day of school, at a basketball game, on a camping trip...as if they were living the life of any "normal" family. And somehow, part of what was amazing about the blog was that they started it before she was ever sick - so in the beginning it's just like this one, a report on their day-to-day life until one day they had the rug pulled out from under them and life has never been the same. Over the past week, if you put aside the sheer heartache Jeff and I both feel over the situation they are facing, I have so appreciated being able to read their stories because it has been like a gift - in what has frankly not been the best of years for Jeff and I - of greater appreciation for all that we do have.

So, in the end that is what made me finally decide to stop thinking about it and start writing about it...again. I have told myself that to really keep this up, I need to focus on keeping things short and sweet. Ha - we'll see! But for now, I thought I'd leave you with a quote from a post the day Jeff's friend realized that things really weren't looking good for his wife and said this to his older 10-year-old son, because I think that it's really applicable to all of us:

"...time may be short and very precious. What's important is that we stay connected to the present - today we have each other, today we can give hugs and share smiles and love."

Until I write again.

I-A-N. Ian!

There are some milestones in your child's life that you just know will be exciting. Like, the first time they smile or crawl or walk or talk. But last week we had one that I didn't expect (perhaps because I never thought about it): Ian wrote his name for the first time! And, it was actually legible! Okay, well, it was mostly legible.

It happened while we were out to dinner one night. He was drawing "pictures" with crayons. Jeff and I were talking and he said something like, "Look, I wrote my name!" Of course, my first thought was, "Right, of course you did..." Then, I looked over and he really did! We asked him to show us, and with full concentration, he did it again. The I and A were quite decent, while it was clear the N was a little more difficult. More like a sideways S, really. And, it was backwards. But hey, it's a start!

The ironic thing about this was that a couple of weeks earlier I was reading online that it's not uncommon for kids around his age to start writing their names. I was quite taken back to see this because I didn't sense he was close to being able to form letters on his own. I even went as far as asking his teacher about it a few days later and her response was that he was not old enough yet to be concerned about whether or not he could write his name. Her suggestion was to continue doing a lot of reading and to encourage him to draw, and that the letters would come eventually. Okie dokie.

And then not long after that, we had our little milestone! I don't know what it is, but there seems to be something particularly neat about seeing him learning to actually write and form words on his own. He's also generally starting to show a lot of curiosity with words - saying the letters and asking what word it spells. For example, he did this with the Jif peanut butter jar this morning - pointed out the J-I-F and asked what it spelled, and then, what that meant. Oh, and on a somewhat related note, we are also suddenly being asked what the name of every song is on the radio. Yesterday, I had to say, "Well, this song is called Bad Girls by Donna Summer," which seemed potentially inappropriate. It didn't seem to phase him, though. He just said, "Oh," and kept right on playing his air drums (another new trend) in the back seat.

Anyway, back to that whole name writing thing...we were quite the proud parents that evening, I must say. Here's some evidence:

Until I write again.

Going to new Depths

Our shopping trips to our local New Seasons are always somewhat dangerous for me because in addition to their great selection of edible products, they happen to have a pretty great department of all natural, organic bath and beauty products. Undoubtedly, I often find myself venturing over to these aisles for a quick scan of the latest and greatest products available for purchase.

A couple of weeks ago we were in the store hightailing it to the produce department (after all, you know how committed I am to my fruits and veggies), walking right past the beauty products when a new product caught my eye. It was prominently displayed at the end of one of the

aisles. (Those product placement people are soooo smart!) It was in pretty blue packaging - and let's face it, I'm a sucker for pretty packaging - and the name was Depth. There was a lotion, a body wash, hand soap, shave cream, shampoo and conditioner. The lotion had a tester so, among the four they had available, I selected a scent called "Ocean Blossom." Suffice it to say that it was love at first smell. I spent the rest of the time in the store sniffing my hands to take it all in. Hopefully that didn't look too strange.

That night I did some quick research online on this new Depth product and liked what I saw. It's a fairly young company that was started by a husband and wife who are/were marine biologists. As stated on their Web site, one of the reasons they started the company was to bring the "beauty, abundance and therapeutic benefits of marine botanicals to consumers..." I like that. The product line is organic and natural. And did I mention it smells heavenly and has lovely environmentally friendly packaging? Of course, the neatest part is that a percentage of the sale of every product goes toward a nonprofit camp in Monterey Bay that provides marine experiences to underprivileged children and instills in them a love and respect for the sea and marine life. Oh, and it also smells great. And, the packaging is lovely. (Did I already say that?)

While Ian and I were at New Seasons on Monday, I decided it was time to stop draining their lotion testers and took the plunge (pun intended) with my first Depth purchase - the daily shampoo. I've only used it a couple of times but so far, it's great. So, I guess it's safe to say they've got a new fan. And they aren't even paying me to write this! (Hey, isn't that how this blogging thing is really supposed to work??)

Until I write again.

Didn't I say I wasn't going to do that?

Right from the beginning of this second pregnancy I knew that one of the things I wouldn't have spend any time worrying about this time around was room preparation. Well, okay, let me back up and say that I did know we would need to decide which room this little one would occupy but once that decision was made - it would be smooth sailing. I mean, I already had all the stuff. The bedding, the furniture, the wall hangings, etc. What a relief, right? Yeah, right.

Of course, first let's not underestimate the magnitude of the actual room decision. And honestly, we've known this might become a bit of an issue at some point from oh, say, the day we put an offer in on this house. Sadly, what was not at issue was the fact that Jeff would be kicked out of his office. Yeah sure, he happens to use that room to help generate our family income when he's not on client site - but still - something needed to give and his office was it. (Unfortunately, while it seems that the most obvious solution would be for him to take over the downstairs den/office area, the design of the built-in work space in that room does not work well for people taller than about five feet. It actually would have worked better for us if they had left that room as an empty space.) So, we knew from the start that his office would likely be relocating to the basement area, making it a dual purpose second living/office area.

But the next question was whether that office would become the new baby's room or the new guest room (obviously making the current guest room the new baby's room). This is where our opinions differed. My husband, Mr. I-look-at-everything-from-a-very-logical-point-of-view, was strongly in favor of using the small room as the baby's room. His argument being: A) How much space does one little tiny baby need? (um, did he notice the size of our last one?); B) It would be all the more convenient to have the kid right next door as Ian was when he was a little tike; and C) While we do love every one of our guests dearly, the current guest bedroom location just seems a little more natural than the smaller room right next door to ours. Meanwhile, my argument was that while I totally got all of his arguments, I just happen to like the other bedroom more. It's larger, it's brighter, it has a better view out the windows and well, it just makes me happier when I'm in there. So, we'd broach the subject every now and then. He'd voice his opinion. I'd do the whole, "I hear you" thing and then make my perhaps more subjective but I felt, equally compelling, arguments and then we'd drop it for a while.

Until one day not all that long ago, I was on Facebook and saw a post from Sharon, who (along with her husband) bought our old house in Arlington and also happens to be pregnant with their second child. She had a status update about being so pleased that Restoration Hardware Baby & Child had so much great gender-neutral stuff for decorating their new baby's room. This immediately spelled trouble. Restoration Hardware? Baby & Child? Hmmm...I knew they had dipped their toes into the baby market but how far? I figured I'd go check out the site. You know, just for fun. And off I went. Within a few clicks I was perusing multiple pages of what had clearly become an entirely new business line for RH. And first of all, let me ask, how did I miss this when I was going through all these decor issues with Ian's room? Annoying. And second of all, it was like one-stop baby room shopping! Great colors that weren't too cutesy (and Sharon was right - some very nice gender-neutral selections) with coordinating bedding, lighting, wall colors (all their stuff matches their paint colors perfectly - imagine that!) and let's not forget a plethora of coordinating overpriced accessories that include wall hangings, storage baskets, blankets, stuffed animals, etc.

By my fifth or so visit to the site, there was a plan forming in that planner head of mine. It went something like this: "Well, you know, maybe - just maybe - I wouldn't feel as bad about that little room if we spruce it up a bit. You know, paint the walls a lighter color to brighten it up and make it seem larger, change out the bedding..." And before I knew it, the UPS man was dropping this off at our door:

For anyone wondering what the heck it is - it's a crib bumper. A cuddle plush crib bumper in chocolate with silver sage piping, to be specific. Which, I know are somewhat controversial these days, but we did use one with Ian until he was five(ish) months - which is probably how this one will go as well and why I purchased it for 50% off. So, suffice it to say that we have a plan now, which is that our new bundle of joy will be occupying Jeff's former office next to our room for at least the first year or two. The guest room will remain as-is for now (minus some closet reorg). We'll be using all of Ian's old baby furniture (I didn't go that out of my mind!) with the new bumper, a new sheet and crib skirt (both identified but I'm waiting to see if they also go on sale at some point since we have time) - along with likely a new table lamp and shade, and perhaps some new storage baskets that match the new colors. The wall color will be RH's Silver Sage - though there's a decent chance we'll use the Benjamin Moore match called Gray Wisp simply because we like BM paints and know we can get a good quality low VOC option there.

And last, but not least, the one remaining issue with the smaller room was/is the closet. It's a fairly small closet that has one hanging bar that is up way too high for it to be functional for me on a daily basis. So, the solution there is that we'll be taking out the existing bar and shelf, patching/prepping the closet and installing a new Elfa closet system from the Container Store that will have a combination of hanging space, drawers and shelving. And with that, I can now report that our next child will not be homeless. Item one checked off the list, only about fifty three more to go and we'll be ready. Oh, and if anyone needs a like-new cute lamb baby bedding set from Pottery Barn Kids - complete with matching rug - it'll be on Portland's Craigslist soon.

Until I write again.

Take me out to the ball game

This afternoon we took Ian to his first ever live sporting event: A Portland Beavers baseball game. The Beavers are a Minor League farm team for the San Diego Padres. Unfortunately, they may not be in Portland much longer because their home field - PGE Park - is in jeopardy to due the arrival of a Major League Soccer team in Portland soon. (Apparently Portland is more of a soccer town than baseball town, so the Beavers may be gone by 2011.) Which made it even more imperative that we make it to one of their games! Plus, Sundays are kids' day at the park where kids eat free before the game and they have a game area set up for them, in addition to other activities.

PGE Park is on the edge of downtown so rather spend a couple of hours in search of street parking, we opted to take the "electric train," as Ian calls it. Of course this mode of transportation also earned us triple bonus points for the day given that the ride there and back was half the fun. A mere $15 got us all in the gate for general admission seating which allowed us to pick any seat we wanted in the upper half of the stadium. Sadly, the crowds were not huge (perhaps more evidence why the Beavers may not be around much longer) but it still had all the makings of a good day at the ballpark: a warm day, overpriced food, (relatively) good music and vendors circling with every type of junk food you can imagine.

The actual game portion of the outing kept Ian's attention for approximately three innings before he became more interested in walking around, climbing the stairs and generally not sitting still for more than two seconds. That said, he is a very loyal and enthusiastic clapper and always took a moment out from other activities to participate in cheering on the home team. By the fourth inning we headed over the kids' area where Ian participated in a little batting practice himself before he announced that he was ready to hop the train back home. We were really hoping he'd make it to the seventh inning so he could hear Take Me Out to the Ball Game given he recently learned that song at school and has been quick to add it to his concert repertoire at home. However, it clearly wasn't meant to be for today, so off we went to catch the

train for the few stops to our home station.

As for me, that was my first Minor League game ever, I believe. I did have a moment where I wished that we had the opportunity to take him to a Washington Nationals game in their new stadium (the stadium was still being built when we moved) and of course taken the Metro to get there. Boy, he would have just been beside himself with the whole Metro system! But, as Jeff rightly pointed out, he could care less about the difference between the minors and majors or what stadium he's in....he was just happy to be part of a real sporting event. (Though, we do have hopes of taking him up for Seattle for a Mariners' game at some point.) Maybe next time we'll even make it to the seventh inning stretch.

Until I write again.

How our son spent his "rest time" yesterday

Ian was never the type of baby who was "into everything," as they say. Once he became mobile, I must say that we got by with minimal baby proofing because he was just the type of kid who, as soon as we said "No!" would turn and go the other direction. No issues. No questions asked. (Maybe because he couldn't talk at the time?) Plus, we also just made it policy to not divert our eyes from him for too long. So, suffice it to say that aside from some sensible safety basics, that hiding everything, putting locks on cabinets, toilet seats, etc. was not as much of a concern for us as it might be for some others who have little ones of a more exploratory nature, shall we say. Bottom line: It was just never a problem with him. Until yesterday.

After a somewhat crazy, but enjoyable morning at OMSI - we came home and did the usual routine of lunch, clean up and a little Sesame Street before it was time to head upstairs for "rest time." As I've mentioned several times before here, rest time rarely involves actual sleeping these days. But still, the idea is to spend some quiet time "resting" in his room. The reality is that since moving into a bed and becoming potty trained, rest time for Ian is more about seeing how many times one can go to the bathroom in an hour. And believe me, if there was a category for this in the Guinness Book of World Records, he would hold the record for sure.

However, yesterday started out a little different. Things were quiet. Very quiet, actually. So much so that for a good while I was almost convinced that maybe this was one of those rare days where he actually fell asleep. So, I went about my business downstairs and after an hour and a half, went up to retrieve him for a snack and some play time before we headed out to his last swim lesson of the season. When I reached the top of the stairs I noticed that the bathroom door was closed and the light was on. Okay, so this was probably trip #50 to the bathroom today and he had just managed to be extra quiet. As I try to do before entering, I quickly knocked and opened the door. What I found was not a pretty scene.

Ian, who was standing on his step stool at the sink with sunscreen tube in hand, turned to see me with a look of surprise and horror on his face at clearly being caught mid-act. And speaking of his face, it just so happened to be covered in pure white - along with part of his hair, shirt, the counter and the wall behind him. The top drawer was wide open and sprawled out on the counter was a cocktail, really, of open toothpaste tubes, lotions, sunscreens, Neosporin, Aquaphor, you name it. Quite shocked I said, "Ian! What are you doing??!," for which his response was to immediately scrunch up his white face and eyes and start bawling, accompanied by the now typical chant of, "I want my daddy! I want my daddy!" The sight was more than I could take. Not quite sure how to handle this appropriately, I immediately did what any parent would do when they've just found their preschooler covered head to toe in white lotions: I left the room and went into our bedroom and laughed. Quietly, of course. More than anything, I really wanted to go downstairs and get my camera to capture this moment and then of course post it to Facebook, Twitter, this blog and any other online forum I could think of - but my logical parent brain kicked into gear and I decided that pulling out the camera might not be the best way to discourage this type of activity in the future. So sadly, no photos.

Once I regrouped, I returned to the scene of the crime where Ian was still standing there just as I had left him crying for his daddy. Still somewhat shocked at what he had done and buying time for what my next move should be, I asked him, "Why do you want daddy?" "Because I don't like you!," he said. Geez, and I hadn't even done anything yet, but thanks, I'll tuck that one in my back pocket for later. Maybe it was a combination of those words, the mess that was on the counter, the wasted sunscreen (which isn't cheap, by the way) and the fact that it was clear that he now needed a bath - that finally kicked me into the "okay, now I'm upset" mode. Luckily I had recently reread our Love and Logic book so my brain did a quick scan to recall what would the authors would say to do in this particular situation. Answer (I think): We had a problem and he needed to be a participant in helping me solve it.

Me: So, it looks like you've decided to make a big mess here. How do you think we're going to get this cleaned up?

Ian: I don't know! (Followed by more "Wahhh!! I want my daddy!" Puhleease, enough already.)

Me: Well, daddy isn't here and he's not going to help you clean this up. Do you have any other ideas?

Ian: No.

Me: Well, let me give you some ideas...

I was winging it, really. (After all, isn't that what first time parenting is all about?) But the bottom line is that we agreed that he'd help me clean up what he could and then he had to choose a toy that he couldn't play with through the weekend. In addition, he would not be having his current favorite snack (graham crackers and peanut butter) that afternoon and through the weekend, as well as any tostadas (aka, cheese quesadillas, which continue to be his favorite food and I'm positive he'd eat them for every single meal if we let him). "Okay," he said. (Sniff, sniff.)

And that is how our son spent his "rest time" yesterday.

Until I write again.

The Somewhat (infrequent) Daily Quote

Mommy, I'm done talking now about the days of the week. You can focus on your driving and I'll just sit here, okay?

Followed a minute later by...

Mommy, how is your new hair color?

-Ian Burpo, Age 3, heard while driving to school this morning after I had been quizzing him for a few minutes on the days of the week. I guess he got tired of playing along. So thoughtful of him to ask about my hair though! (It was a big day yesterday on the hair front - I finally took the plunge and got it highlighted to help hide the gray that was overtaking my head at light speed.) So the answer was, "I'm quite pleased with it, thank you very much for asking."

Until I write again.

Arlington: The Rap

A friend posted this hilarious video from YouTube on Facebook. I thought it captured our old hood so perfectly that I had to post it here. And sadly, it made me feel terribly homesick. Not sure what that says about me but I could make a couple of guesses.

Until I write again.

Add this to the list of things no one told me about parenting (May milestones, part two)

In addition to moving into a real bed, we also tackled the potty training issue once and for all in May. With surprising success, I might add. After nearly a year of casually "practicing" on the potty, Ian still appeared to be taking very little initiative on his own to advance toward being trained. So, with the clock ticking on a couple of different fronts at this point, we decided that it was time to push him off the deep end, so to speak. Enter Operation Potty Training Boot Camp (OPTBC).

We selected Memorial Day weekend for OPTBC because we knew that would give us four solid days where he was not scheduled to be in school and we could stay tethered to the house. (Adios annual Memorial Day day trip to Cannon Beach.) Now, Memorial Day weekend in Portland is known for its awful weather. Cool temperatures, rain, lots of clouds...according to local sources, it's been this way for years. Except, of course, the year we decide to stay at home all weekend. The weather could not have been more gorgeous, really. But was this surprising? Of course not. And to be fair, we did have a ton of beautiful weather in May - except the first week when Chris and Karen were visiting where it just so happens we had some amazingly soggy and dreary days. But again, was this surprising? Of course not.

So, we started warning Ian about a week beforehand that come Saturday morning, he would no longer be wearing diapers. Against my better taste, but going by my Good Mother Training Manual, I even took him to Target to pick out some underwear. He picked out Thomas the Train. Yippee. (Actually, it was better than some.) He also got to pick out his own candy reward. He originally picked out Snickers or something like that but I gently suggested M&Ms might be a better choice. (One for you...one for me. One for you...one, two for me!) In all seriousness, the M&Ms were another book suggestion because they are small and easy to give as frequent rewards. Versus say, a whole mini Snickers every time. I mean, I love Snickers and all but something didn't seem right about potentially feeding him multiple little candy bars in one day.

So, Saturday morning we all woke up bright and early with positive attitudes - ready to tackle OPTBC with zest! On went the underwear and away went the diapers. (Okay, well they were actually just in the closet, but whatever. You get the point.) By approximately 10 a.m. we had dealt with three "accidents." Luckily, all on the hardwood floor - which may have had something to do with the fact that he was banned from sitting on the couch or really going anywhere that didn't have a hard, easy to clean surface. Just kidding. Sort of. Okay, we did make him sit on a towel on the couch. Still, attitudes were positive. After all, accidents were all part of the OPTBC agenda. Then came another. And another. And another. And...somewhere between 2 and 3 p.m. and the sixth or seventh accident - Patty Positive left for the beach and Nancy Negative showed up. It was somewhere around this general time frame that, after cleaning up yet another accident and taking a few deep breaths, I recall that I got down on the floor with him, took him gently, yet firmly by the arms, looked him in the eye and said, "Ian, do you want to go on the potty?" He said yes. "Then you need to tell us and get to the potty before you go. We can't do this for you. You have the power to decide if you want to go potty on the potty or continue having accidents. So, just let us know when you want to start going on the potty." Or something profound like that.

Not all that long after that we were downstairs and I heard, "Mommy, I have to go pee peeeee!!!" We all jumped up and ran to the bathroom like our lives were at stake. He sat down. And he went! There was jumping. There was cheering. There was hugging. And most importantly, there were M&Ms. For all of us! Now, I can't recall the exact sequence of events at this point - but from the hours of approximately 4 or 5 p.m. and 8 p.m., and into Sunday - suddenly Ian was declaring his need to use the toilet about every five minutes. And a few times he went. But more often, he'd eek something out and declare that he was deserving of an M&M. We'd no sooner have him put back together, hands washed, stool put back, sit back down and the process would start all over again. Hmmm....now wait a minute here. It didn't take us long to figure out that we were being played like a fiddle. Barely one challenge conquered before another one began. Sigh. Later on Sunday - when we couldn't take being tied to the house anymore (minus one quick and frantic trip to Fred Meyer earlier that day) - we ventured over to the neighbors' house to check out their new margarita machine. Correction. One of us checked it out while the other one "enjoyed" a strawberry icee with the three, four and five year olds. (Are we having fun yet?) Our neighbor said, "Are you using the M&Ms as reward for going?" "Um, yeah." "Oh, we made that mistake too." "You have to reward them for staying clean and dry all day." "Oh, that makes much better sense!" I guess I missed that page of the manual. So after we got back home we informed Ian that there had been a slight change in the reward plan, which he seemed okay with.

By Monday morning, things were going downright well. The every five minutes thing had subsided and he hadn't had an accident since Saturday afternoon. Things were going so well that we even ventured out on some errands. On Wednesday morning, I happily delivered him to school where he proudly announced to his teacher that he was wearing underwear. Which reminds me that my child - who normally will not say a peep to strangers who try to be friendly with him - also out of the blue announced to the checkout cashier at the grocery store the day before that he was wearing underwear. Luckily she must have had kids or something because she seemed very excited for him.

Our accident-free streak continued, minus one or two nighttime issues that weren't Ian's fault, for several days until just this Tuesday. Just prior to his "rest time" we had a little behavior challenge where I let him get the better of me (bad me) and immediately after that he had a clearly on-purpose accident in his underwear (I won't go into the gory details). But then immediately ran to sit on the potty to finish up, so I guess he wasn't completely committed to it. But that seemed to be an isolated incident. So far, at least.

However, I won't say that the process has been challenge-free. Remember last time when I said that he complied with staying in his room despite his newfound freedom out of the crib? Um yeah, well we regressed on that front slightly. In an effort to help him advance to being completely trained (including at night) we told him that if he was ever in his room and felt like he needed to go - that he should feel free to come out and go to the bathroom, ask for help if he needed it and then go back to his room. I'm pretty sure I saw a little sparkle in his eye and a devilish grin on his face when we revealed this new detail to him. Because not long after he was suddenly needing to go potty an awful lot during rest time - and more surprisingly since he's always been a champ about going to bed at night - after bedtime. One night last Thursday or so he appeared in the living room half naked long after we thought he was asleep declaring he had gone potty! Upstairs we went to get cleaned up and ushered him back to bed, only for it to happen two more times before the hour was up. And it was during So You Think You Can Dance for crying out loud. The nerve!

Once again faced with a new challenge and really not sure what to do in order to continue to encourage him to go while sending the message that games are not acceptable - we finally went with our gut and imposed a consequence for every time he got up to go and didn't actually produce. It sort of worked because things slowed down right after that, but challenges remain. Last night I was out and Jeff found him wandering around upstairs after bedtime - not even under the pretense of needing to sit on the potty. Just out of bed wandering. You know, just because he can. And, we are having issues in the morning as well. Last Saturday he showed up by our bedside just before 6 a.m., which should just flat out be against the law. This, of course, was really the inevitable part of ditching the cage-like sleeping arrangements. And people wonder why we held out as long as possible...

Which brings me back around to the meaning of the title of this entry. For some strange reason, I was under the impression that potty training is, in part, such a huge milestone because no more diapers would equal much less work for mom and dad. But since we embarked on this adventure I have sadly learned that this is not the case. So far, at least. In fact, I could make several arguments to the contrary: that Ian being potty trained is actually MORE work now. First of all, he is far from being self sufficient now. We have finally started to put our foot down (again, and impose a consequence) for his tendency - and clear enjoyment - for pulling everything off, going potty - and then just running out of the bathroom to declare Mission Accomplished! with no clothes on. At which point we have to get him back to the bathroom, help with any necessary clean up, help him get his underwear right side out again, make sure he gets them on by himself without dawdling for 20 minutes, and make sure he washes his hands without throwing water all over the bathroom (or with the case downstairs, he can't even reach the sink by himself, even on a stool). Then there's the whole sleep disturbance (for all of us) and wandering out of his room issue. And I haven't even touched on the whole new level of anxiety associated with outings, especially ones where we know there will not be a clean restroom or sometimes, any restroom nearby.

Still, apparently I hear that this whole learning to use the potty is a good thing in the long run, so I guess we'll stick with it. And I have to say that I probably had more anxiety over how to tackle this whole potty training thing possibly more than any other part of parenting so far. While much of it has been about just going with our gut instinct, I must admit that there was many a day when I just felt lost on how exactly to go about training, despite reading about different techniques. I also had more than one person tell me that I needed to be prepared that OPTBC may not be successful because even though we were ready, he may not be ready. But we are very proud of him and looking back, I have to say that once we all pushed off the deep end and made a focused effort on mastering the core skills, if you will, it was a relatively quick and painless process. Hopefully I will not be eating those words any time soon.

Until I write again.

NOTICE: To protect the innocent, no pictures are provided with this entry.

May milestones, part one

I'd be remiss if I let too much time go by without writing about some big milestones that occurred in the Burpo house last month. (Which, by the way, may have had something to do with the fact that I did not post at all last month.) Of course I already mentioned the big first trip to Disneyland. In addition, we also had a very fun visit from Grandpa Chris and Grandma Karen who were, among other things, kind enough to help us get our front and back yard looking quite lovely for spring. However, there was other big news as well! Three "newsworthy" events, as a matter of fact. And, just so I don't make this one very long and boring post, I've decided to write about them in separate posts. So, here's a recap of the first event of the month:

At last, I'm very proud to report that we can now safely say that Ian will not still be in his crib when he starts high school. Or even kindergarten. Yes folks, as of mid-May he started sleeping in a real, full-size bed. After months of deliberation on furniture, bedding, wall colors, etc., etc. the room finally started coming together on a Saturday morning the second or so weekend of May. And let me say that it was a truly exhausting weekend at that. Grandpa Chris and Grandma Karen had just departed that Friday morning. With Maria still on the DL, the house was due for yet another cleaning, so - after picking up all the paint supplies for Ian's new room - I spent a good chunk of the day doing some manual labor. Woe is me. By Friday eve, as usual, my dogs were barking - which is exactly how you want to feel when you are about to wake up early the next morning to start painting and putting together furniture for a bedroom.

Without going through all the gory details of striped walls that later became unstriped or how perhaps it wasn't the best idea in the world to tackle an all-weekend project the very weekend the grandparents left and we had no time to give Ian any attention - not to mention that his room was torn up - let's just say that by that Sunday eve I was pretty sure that I had been flattened by a Freightliner (run on clean diesel, of course). And Jeff wasn't looking so hot either. It wasn't until a couple of nights later though that we actually put sheets on and Ian spent his first night in his new bed. (And about two weekends later - with the Disney trip in between - that we got the crib down and out of the room.)

The great news is that the transition went off without a hitch, which is I guess what happens when you keep a kid in their crib until almost 3.5 years old. He was so excited to sleep in a real bed and be out of the cage that he even willingly complied when we told him that he was not allowed to come out of his room at nap time or in the morning unless we came in and told him it was okay. Such a naive boy.

I know that a couple of you have asked to see pictures of the finished product. And honestly, I've hesitated to post them because in my mind, the room isn't finished yet and still looks pretty plain. The IKEA lamps I had hoped would work on the bedside tables did not - so that purchase is still TBD. There are picture frames on the dresser with no pictures in them yet (even though the PB signs that come with the frames are quite lovely). We bought knobs for the dresser that need to be installed (more from a functionality standpoint than a looks standpoint). And last but certainly not least - the walls are still strikingly bare. I have a couple of prints (from the Creative Thursday artist on Etsy) on order for framing along with some shelving ideas for above the bed, but it hasn't happened yet. I guess I needed a bit of a break from bedroom decor. So, below is what the room looks like now. I'll post updated pictures in the future when we eventually apply the finishing touches, so to speak.

And as an aside - eventually we'll be replacing the chair and potentially the bookcase since those items will be needed elsewhere before too long. Also, after going back and forth about ten million times on the paint color(s) for the room, I'm happy - no, relieved - to report that I was very pleased with the finished product, which ended being an accent wall of Benjamin Moore's Jalapeno Pepper and another BM more neutral green...of which the name is escaping me right now. Which just shows I'm definitely getting older because normally I would not forget such things. But I guess that's a post for another day.

Until I write again.

Happy anniversary to me!

A woman I know from high school had a status update on her Facebook page the other day saying that she had just been to the Linden High School graduation for the Class of 2009 the night before. Hmmm....I graduated in...let's see...1989 which means that it was exactly (or thereabouts) 20 years ago that I graduated from Linden High School. Holy guacamole!!! Well, A) What happened to my 20-year reunion invite? It must have been lost in the mail (which I'm actually okay with); and B) How did 20 years go by so quickly?? I mean, it was just like yesterday that I recall wandering the halls of Linden High as little Melinda Johnson among the sea of Italian farming families that make up good ole' Linden, California. That, and the Linden Cherry Festival every May where my best friend Melissa ran for Cherry Queen our senior year. That was a big deal. I remember helping her memorize her speech where she talked about her pig Iggy that she raised for 4H. As I recall, she didn't win but she should have. But I believe that she has recovered by now, so it's all good.

Anyway, as I pondered my high school days, I couldn't help but think back to some of my more notable teachers....Mr. Gregory from physics; Mr. Waters from biology; Mr. Miller, my history teacher who also doubled as the Linden High football coach (and looked like one too); and last, but not least, Ms. Niswonger - my typing teacher. I liked Ms. Niswonger because she kind of reminded me of my Grandma. But she ran a mean typing class. "Ready.........tyyyypppppppeeee!," she'd always say. Really, who knows if I'd even be able to write this blog post here today without her. I'm guessing they've ditched the typing class (with typewriters, anyway) at Linden High by now. Ironically, two of the teachers who were probably among the more instrumental in shaping my future (besides Ms. Niswonger), I can clearly see their faces but can't remember their names. First was my Spanish teacher (actually, I think I had two but I remember one in particular) who gave me my start in what would later become my college major and second was my yearbook teacher who helped spark my interest in journalism and writing.

Another class I recall that I actually did not take was home economics. I remember the classroom it was in and that it was a very popular class, particularly among the female students. I went in there once and there was a whole kitchen going on in there; and one of the most popular parts of the class was when all the students would have to carry around an egg for a week and pretend like it was their baby. Of course the goal was to not drop and break the egg. You know, so you learn how to not drop and break your kid later on in life. All I can say looking back on that now is...Wow! They may have ditched the typewriting class on typewriters - but I certainly hope they've ditched the home economics class. I could say more but perhaps I'll just leave it at that. Though, since I can't cook and well, I guess my child rearing abilities are still TBD, maybe a little crash course in home econ wouldn't have been such a bad idea after all.

But while we are on the topic of my 20-year high school graduation anniversary, in California many high school seniors celebrate their graduation by heading to Anaheim for a special "Grad Nite" (yes, that is how they spell it) at Disneyland where every night in June seniors invade the park for an all-night celebration. While I did venture down to Disney World in Orlando once fairly early on in my East Coast adventures, I hadn't been to Disneyland since "Grad Nite '89" until Jeff and I took Ian down just a few weeks ago for a long weekend at the park with my Dad, DeAnn, Summer, Addy and Emmy.

Disneyland is kind of like the U.S. Constitution. It hasn't changed all that much over the years, yet it still seems surprisingly current and relevant - so I have to give Disney some credit for that. But aside from that, taking your three year old to Disneyland is a bit different than going as a kid yourself or in my most recent case, going for "Grad Nite '89". First and foremost, I'm not sure if anyone who has been recently noticed, but that place is crowded. Not just a little crowded. A LOT CROWDED. I mean, if our economy is in the tank, you'd never know it by spending a day or two at Disneyland. Want to spend 90 seconds going up and down in a circle on flying elephants? (Because we did.) Wait 45 minutes. Want to spend a few minutes on a fake submarine ride (these days called "Finding Nemo" thanks to those branding wizards at Disney) where you can view fake fish and fake plants? Wait 1.5 hours. (Ian did...but we didn't.) Want to go on Space Mountain, the Haunted House or the Matterhorn? Forgot it...you only got to do those fun rides before you had young children in tow. Plus that was at least another two or three hours of waiting time and well, who has time?? Want to be sneezed on, coughed on, bumped into and stepped on by every man, woman and child in Southern California and beyond? Go to Disneyland! (And yes, I did come down with a cold shortly after we arrived back home.)

But yeah, yeah - you are probably thinking, "Well, um, isn't the point of going to Disneyland not really for you but for Ian, Addy and Emmy?" Geez, if you want to make it "all about the kids", I guess so. And the bottom line was that they had a great time. Besides just being in overdrive excitement mode over the whole experience, Ian was particularly in love with the Dumbo ride, It's a Small World, the Monorail, the Disney train and the breakfast we had with "Minnie and Friends" (except that Captain Hook...he wasn't so sure about him). And it's always nice to have a long weekend away from the grind and be able to spend time with family. Oh, and as a neat little bonus - perhaps in commemoration of another recent anniversary earlier in May - our approach flying into Orange County took us directly over Catalina Island and as we turned toward the coast just north of Avalon, it was just enough to clearly (well, as "clear" as LA air gets) see the Casino, the bay and a some of the town. We realized it was the first time we had even set sight on Avalon since we departed from our wedding. We pointed it out to Ian but he was more interested in his puzzle and fishy crackers, frankly. Oh well.

Until I write again.

Life without Maria

Did I mention that our housecleaner broke her arm? If not, I'm very surprised because I think about it, and her, at least once every five minutes these days. This was maybe six weeks ago now. She called one day to tell me that she slipped and fell in the bathtub. Ouch. Poor Maria. Even worse, that she was in a cast and would not be able to work for a while. However, in typical Maria fashion, she said that, despite what the doctor was telling her, she thought it wouldn't be too long before she'd be able to come back to work.

So, we left it at that. I hung up the phone, looked around the house and spent about two seconds pondering the fact that I may have to actually clean my house for the first time in, oh, seven or so years. And then it was too much to process so I immediately stopped thinking about it and instead went immediately into the denial stage - which I seem to do so well. No worries, she said she'll be back soon. The house can survive a month without a major cleaning. (Note that it had already been more than a week since she was last here when I received the call.)

Two weeks (or so...I've lost track) later the phone rings again. It's Maria. We had gotten together with our two sets of neighbors (who also use Maria) to send her a "get well soon" bouquet of flowers. Of course she didn't realize how literal that sentiment was for each one of us. No, really, please get well soon! So Maria was calling to thank us (profusely, because she is very sweet) for the flowers and to provide us with an update on her condition:

Maria: So I wanted to let you know that the doctor switched me to my permanent cast today.

Me: Oh, your permanent cast?

Maria: Yes, he said it's going to be at least another three weeks that I'll need to be in this cast and then he'll have to check me again for my progress.

Me: Oh, at least three weeks, huh? (??!!!!!!!!)

Maria: Yes, I'm so sorry for any inconvenience in not being able to clean your house for all this time.

Me: Oh, Maria, it's no problem at all. (What a liar.) You just rest and focus on getting well and give us a call after you talk with the doctor again. Oh, and can you just tell me what you use to clean the toilets?

So, again, I'd lost count but basically at this point we were approaching somewhere in the vicinity of a month w/o a cleaning with clearly no end in sight. As I looked around at the dust bunnies mingling around the floor like best friends at a cocktail party, I knew that denial was no longer an option. Someone needed to clean the house and it clearly was not going to be Maria. Ian offered and I considered it for a minute before deciding that might not be the most efficient route to go. And Jeff didn't really offer. Which is understandable, I guess, since he's got that whole work thing going on.

I spent the next four or so days getting siked up for my adventures in housecleaning. I mean, it's not like I've never cleaned before. I used to be the Queen of Clean(ing), as a matter of fact, before we bought our house in Virginia. But once multiple levels entered into the picture, I decided I was okay with enlisting the help of outside resources. And then it's just hard to go back after that decision is made. To prepare, I spent the weekend doing some deep breathing and stretching exercises, along with reacquainting myself with the myriad cleaning supplies at my disposal. Come Monday morning - with Ian dropped off at school - I was ready. It was a beautiful day outside and I had a lot of energy that morning. In short, it was Me vs. The House and I was determined to come out the winner!

Just like Maria does, I started upstairs in our bathroom. First of all, I never realized how big our vanity was before. Lots to clean there for sure. After that and the toilet, I tackled the bathtub, which took much more bending and general contorting of the body than I anticipated. By that point I was already saying, "Oh, that's good enough!" Next was the shower. I thought, "You know, the shower still looks pretty clean...I've been at this an hour and there's still a lot to do...I'll just skip the shower for now." Well, about 2.5 hours, one more bathroom, four bedrooms, one laundry room later and about two breaks later - I was finally ready to start moving downstairs. Admittedly, I was getting a little tired and it took a little longer than I had hoped. Still, I was not discouraged. One more break and I was ready to tackle the main level.

About 1.5 hours later - somewhere in between cleaning the kitchen, vacuuming the wood floors and getting started on the mopping - is when it first crossed my mind that whomever thought it was a perfectly good idea to buy a 3,000+ square foot home clearly never planned on cleaning it. By that point, I'm pretty sure my energy level was decreasing by the millisecond and breaks were becoming more frequent. Somewhere around that same time Jeff arrived home and sadly, attempted to go up the very same stairs I had just spent 20 minutes vacuuming WITHOUT TAKING OFF HIS SHOES FIRST. I mean, I don't want to exaggerate and say that I flipped out or anything but let's just say I don't think he'll be making that mistake again.

By the time I finished with just minutes to spare before it was time to go pick up Ian, I was not well. For sure it had been Me vs. The House except that I do believe The House came out the winner. By 6pm that evening, every bone and muscle in my body ached. I can only liken it to how one feels when they are coming down with a bad case of the flu. It was, in a word, embarrassing. The next day, I was useless. I did nothing except spend most of the day praying that Maria would return before it was time to clean again. That was about 2.5 weeks ago now. I've recovered but the house is getting dirty again. Especially that shower. And still no call from Maria. As a side note, I can't go without giving credit where credit is due. I did have a couple of helpers that day. Here are some photos of them in action.

Gathering bathroom rugs for the wash:

Overseeing the dusting in (or outside, as the case may be) our bedroom:

Bathtub quality assurance advisor: And finally, taking a break from mopping:

Until I write again.