Two Days of Yes

I asked my daughter a question the other day and her response was "mmmm...I'll think about it. Then it happened again later. I noticed a variation on this happening over the next couple of increasingly frustrating days until I finally realized that she was giving answers that she hears all the time. From me.

Ugh. 

When I took some time to pay attention, I noticed that I say ‘no’ a lot. To be fair (or, defensive?) my kids ask for a lot of candy (no, it's bad for you!), dangerous freedom (no, the park has tweakers in it, you may not go alone!) and media time (your eyes get all buggy and no, no, no!). 

But sometimes they ask to go on bike rides, to go swing together at the park, or for quarters to buy trinkets at the grocery store. Often I find myself saying no to these things, too. What the heck?! For example, if Evie had asked me if we could make clothes for the baby chicks, I would have automatically said no. Luckily she asked Paulie instead who of course said "we sure can!" then dropped everything he was doing and got to work. 

I realized I needed to change my ‘no’ habit - and the best way to do that was to go cold turkey. I decided for the rest of the day, I'd say Yes.

It started out easy enough: Evie wanted a lollipop before lunch. “Sure, sweetie.” Jonah asked if I could help him figure out Paulie’s computer password. “Heck yeah!” Evie asked for a dollar so she could buy something at a garage sale, even though she had the exact same item at home. “Okay, having two might be fun, huh?”

Soon I realized that I had to be really creative with re-direction, because once the kids caught a whiff of this new-improved mom and her consenting ways, they went straight for the gold. “Can we watch Netflix for the rest of the day? If we agree on what to watch and we don’t argue?”

Oh boy.

“Hmm, man that does sound like fun, doesn’t it?” ThinkThinkThink “How about this: I could use some help clearing the debris off the sidewalk when I trim the hedges, if you’ll help me with that, then we’ll revisit this question. Sound good?” And amazingly, they said yes.

I decided to try saying Yes for a second day. I liked the way it felt, once I got used to it. And the challenge of pausing before I trigger-answered the kids’ requests was a nice change - it forced me to slow down, consider, and use the creative side of my brain when I really wanted to say no.

“Mom, can I climb through the back of the car into my seat?” “Sure!”

“Do you think I could get two new shirts instead of just one?” “Dude, YES, that’s the coolest shirt ever!”

“Want me to help filling wine bottles?” “That would be great!”

I have to say, the practice of saying Yes is super hard! It extended beyond the kids, too - Paulie asked if I would drive home after a late night; the teenager asked me for fifty whole cents and if I could proofread his girlfriend’s History paper; some other things were asked that I’m sure I said yes to but I just can’t remember now...you get the point.

It was a fun experiment. By 'fun' I mean it's exhausting being agreeable all the time, but it was a joy seeing my kids' looks of wonder and amazement at this new and improved mama they found before them. I'm glad I took the time to stop and pay attention to what I was saying and why, and I'd like to continue to implement more thoughtful answers to the requests being lobbed at me left and right all the live-long day.

But the All Yes All the Time stuff? Yeah, I'm done with that baloney now.

Finally.

Brother's Keeper - Part 2

I was just reading some old blog posts when I came across this gem HERE.

So you clicked that right? You never click the link. Will you just go read it this time? Would it kill you?! It's got pictures of Liam and Finn together when Finn was just a week old. It's amazing, you'll love it! I'll wait.

See! What did I tell you? I know, things have changed a lot in three years and not just the fact that Liam is a man now.

Want me to drive?

He never succeeded in taking his brother's life back then and now he does all he can to keep Finn safe.

Finn's inherited his mother's fearlessness and is something of an adrenaline junkie. He can't afford skydiving yet so he gets his fix by trying to pet stray dogs and running off in the hopes of getting lost or kidnapped.

The other day we were at Badger Park. Badger Park has an enormous fenced-in play structure with a slide consisting entirely of cylindrical rolling bars. If you try hard enough, you can wedge a three-year-old's fingers in between the rollers which is evidently quite painful. Finn has done it three times. Outside of the play structure is a grass area about the size of a football field that is ringed by a path where people walk their bitey dogs. Just beyond all of this is a spooky tree line that hides the swiftly flowing Russian River. This is Finn's favorite park.

Last week Finn managed to open the gate and make a dash for the river. Mind you, I watched him the whole time because I know what I'm doing with him. I just hold back a moment because I like to see if, at any point, he shows some sign, a glimmer, of self-preservation. He never does.

Before I could dash after him, an act he finds endlessly hilarious, I hear Liam behind me shout, "NO FINN!! COME BACK!" I kind of kept a safe distance and let things play out. Liam ran the entire length of the field to grab Finn by the hand and lead him all the way back to the playground, and Finn was compliant. I couldn't have done it any better.

After that we went to the club where Finn went straight for the part of the kiddie pool that's just above his nose and I did my Hasselhoff impression.

Spring Chickens!

It's Springtime, and we all know what that means! Our chickens should be putting out in the whole 'egg' department. At this point, I'd say they're doing a so-so job. I can't blame them too much, though...I mean, these girls are getting old.

Our Golden Girls: Neko, Penny and Nickel

So we did what any egg-needy family would do: we got more chickens. Yes I am aware that eggs are sold at farmer's markets and in stores all over town, but we prefer to eat eggs from our own back yard. That way we know what's going into them: broccoli stalks, leftover pasta, the occasional uneaten taco, toast crusts, and all kinds of fun food that would otherwise be wasted. That's right - we turn our kitchen scraps into eggs. It's a miracle!

We were all extremely delighted about getting some new chicks because let's face it, people...baby chicks are adorable! The only member of our family who wasn't so sure was our dog, Mesa. Upon first meeting the babies, she immediately tried to eat one. I'm guessing she thought it was a tennis ball and just wanted to play, but either way we quickly made it clear that these were not snacks and were not to be eaten or tossed around for fun.

Then we set to work helping her understand that these were her new sisters and she needed to love them. Gently.

Look! A new friend!

Mesa wasn't sure if she was allowed to come near. She was like, "is this a trick? Are you holding out this treat for me and then you're not going to let me eat it? What's wrong with you?! YOU'RE A MONSTER!"

Friiieeeeends!! 

"I don't know, man. This seems fishy. How do I know I can trust you? I mean sure, that's my nature because I'm a dog, but come on lady. That thing looks delicious. What is this 'friend' thing you speak of?"

Friends...?

"Just because I'm coming closer doesn't mean I'm going to love this damn thing."

Friends!

"I mean, it's cute and all, I'll give you that. And so fluffy! Heh, listen to it go 'cheep cheep' like that. Jeez, adorbs, amiright?"

OKAY I LOVE YOU AND YOU'RE MY BFF!

"I love her! I love her so much! *kiss*!"

Now Mesa is thrilled to have three new sisters to hang out with in the back yard once they've grown enough to join their bigger brethren. How Neko, Penny and Nickel are going to feel about these wee babes once we introduce them is another story. 

To be continued...

The Motherlode of Bling

Apparently, there are women who walk among us who own a lot of jewelry. I am not one of these women - I tend to take a liking to one item at a time and then wear it every day for a few months, until I forget to one day, and then I forget for pretty much ever. I have a little tray on my dresser which holds the few things I keep in regular rotation, and it takes up less than a square foot of my space.

So you can imagine my surprise when I peeked into the innocent-looking bag given to Evie last weekend by her Auntie Ani, which she described as 'just some old jewelry'. Inside was a literal shit-ton of gold and silver and sparkles and animal prints and, *gasp*, and...I can't go on. "Whoa,"was my first reaction.

I let the bag sit on the kitchen table for a day until, during our bedtime ritual, Evie interrupted to ask if I could get something out of the bag for her. "Mama can you find this necklace I saw - it has a plus sign on it, but one side is like, longer?"

"You mean a cross?"

"Yeah yeah, a cross. And it has sparkles in it, like shiny clear...diamonds? Can you find it so I can wear it to school tomorrow?"

"Sure thing sweetie." Oh, what a naive fool I am.

I went downstairs, peered into the bag, and saw an intimidating mass of tangled chains, enormous earrings, dozens upon dozens of bracelets, countless rings and a random pair of sunglasses. After a few minutes of digging around I found the cross. I set to the big task of untangling it - and that is where I spent every spare moment I had over the next several days.

The fruit of my labor

You see, untangling things is my specialty (read: I'm a little OCD about it), and once focused on the project of doing so, I must finish. A quick look at the above photo might give you an idea of the tangle-potential of the jewelry in that bag. And that's not even all of it - side note: if anyone gets a gift of jewelry from the teenager any time soon, you'll know where it came from. 

I decided that this was far too much jewelry for an 8-year-old without pierced ears, and I would have to find a way to carefully organize it all so that it didn't get retangled before she got a chance to enjoy it, so given is she to throwing stuff into maddeningly random piles around her room.

Can you guess which pair I'll be trying to rock soon?

Of course, there were things I knew she'd want to utilize in her wardrobe stylings immediately:

OMG Gold Bow Bracelet - adorbs.

Notice how nicely NOT tangled these are...

After stacking the bajillions of bangles, I was finally finished:

Now for the daunting problem of figuring out how to organize all of this stuff so that we can have our kitchen table back. Women with masses of jewelry, what are your secrets?! I have a feeling that Pinterest is going to be my best friend today...which is awesome because we all know how much I love a DIY craft project!

In the meantime, I have some accessorizing to play around with:

I think it works

But seriously - please leave any tips, suggestions, ideas on organizing all of this shizz in the comments below. Thanks!

Nine Days

I'd known months in advance that Erin's week long Yoga Retreat in Mexico was set for mid-March. I'm not sure what a "Yoga Retreat" entails, just that it meant a significant number of local moms were abandoning the children of Healdsburg to the questionable competence of the local dads. The authorities probably should have been notified.

I wasn't sure if I was up to the task, but it turned out not to be that big of a deal. Seriously! I guess I'm not really sure why I thought it would be. I had to come up with a couple of new dinner ideas and we went through a few more diapers, but really it wasn't so different from any other week.

I think I was worried about Jodee. Our relationship is still relatively new, or at least in my head it's too new to be subjecting it to this kind of test.

Three and five-year-old brothers are, quite simply, a natural disaster personified. There's nothing you can do to prevent a hurricane. All you can do is be prepared for the onslaught, endure it, and rebuild. It's exactly the same with Liam and Finn each weekend we're together. The last nine straight days, however, was like one of those hurricanes that stalls off the coast and just keeps making things worse and worse.

I anticipated this and wisely planned a couple of moments of relief. For example, I scheduled a sitter for Thursday night as a surprise for Jodee. I had no real plan in place for the evening, just a spontaneous break, maybe a walk downtown or a quick happy hour cocktail. This would have been great except I was so scatterbrained trying to manage the logistics of the week I forgot about the sitter until she texted that she was on her way. Of course I received this text while I was on my way to trade cars with Jodee at the gym and go pick the boys up from daycare. I got home 45 minutes into the 2 hour window I'd promised the sitter, so I paid her for her time and went and had a 1 hour 15 minute date with myself.

A Night on the Town

I think leaving town with the boys the following night was a wise move. We hadn't seen my parents in a while so it was off to Berkeley to hear my mother's sweet voice telling me things like "you should take a nap" and "we ordered pizza."

I got back Sunday night. While it was a totally manageable week, I was too exhausted on that final night to do anything but stumble to bed. The boys had napped during the day and weren't ready to end their weekend. Mercifully, Jodee offered to stay up for a bit and put them down for me.

I think she missed us.

Pi Day: Liam Learns About His Spheres

I was posting an article online about a man, named Akira Haraguchi, who memorized a mind-boggling 100,000 digits of Pi, when I heard a loud bang from the bedroom. It was that familiar sound that told me one of the boys was climbing something he wasn't supposed to, and it hadn't worked out. Usually this sound is paired with a cry matching the severity of the injury, but I perked up my ears and didn't hear a peep. This means that whoever took the spill was either uninjured or really injured.

Before I had time to panic I heard Liam shout "hurt?!" He sounded equal parts pained and confused, so I went to investigate. He was doubled-over, looking nauseous, unhappy, and completely dumbfounded. "Awww buddy! Did you get hit in the balls?" I asked feeling truly sympathetic. He responded by going to his room and putting himself back to bed.

I left him alone for the requisite 20 seconds it would take him to recover and went to inspect the scene of the crime. How remarkable was this? It had been just before 9:30am on 3/14/15. I was hyper aware of the time because it's Pi Day and it was around the one second of this century that matched Pi to ten digits. Could it have happened at exactly 9:26:53?

Just an hour earlier Jodee had reprimanded Liam after catching him propping up her foam body roller between my dresser and the foot of the bed and trying to ride it like a horse. Here's what I found in the bedroom.

I think his body roller rodeo days are over for now. I guess Karma is a math dork.

The Case of the Totally Lacking Pajamas

Yesterday I became mildly (read: verging on panic-attacky) obsessed with the fact that I didn't have any pajamas.

You see, today we are heading up to the fair city of Eureka, where we will spend the weekend celebrating the fiftieth (read: Five Zero) wedding anniversary of Paulie's parents. I know. It's crazy. That's a buttload of years to be married to someone. But whatever; they did it, so hoo-ah! celebrate we shall!

The pajama concern came up because joining us on this celebratory vacay will be one teenage son of Paulie, and one girlfriend of teenage son of Paulie. Let the good times roll!! As I am eternally the 'Bad Cop' in this arrangement, it was fun finding lodging that would accommodate Paulie and I, plus a separate bed for the teenage son, plus a separate bed for the girlfriend of the teenage son. Both of the teen beds must of course include many a loud obstacle (old springs, creaking floors, squeaky doors...you get the point) which will alert us to one teenager or the other trying to sneak into the warm, toasty-smelling embrace of their beloved. NOT ON MY WATCH, KIDDOS!!

Anyway, I realized I would be up constantly, making excuses to bumble into the main room (where one of them will be sleeping on the futon) to make tea, or pass through to use the bathroom, or pretend to be sleepwalking - the usual. And if this were going to happen I couldn't just be in my dowdy old 'everyday pj's'...i.e. a variation of whatever I wore earlier that day.

This is my reality

I brought this up to Paulie later that evening.

Me: Sooo...I'm concerned that I don't have pajamas. I think I need some pajamas.

Paulie: You, uh, you have pajamas.

(Therefore unleashing the crazy in me)

Me: No I don't! I have NO pajamas!

Paulie: Yes you do - you just wear the same clothes you wore earlier in the day. Well, the top. And some sweatpants. You have pajama bottoms, at least.

This was sort of my vision

Me: But I'm going to be puttering around making tea and shit and the teenagers will be there and I don't want to be all nipply in my holey t-shirt...I need some bonafide cutesy little pajamas. Like, with a collar or something.

Paulie: Okay baby, if you want some pajamas, you should definitely get some pajamas (side note: I love him! So agreeable.)

Me: And I might need some kicky little robe, you know? Like 'oh here I am in my cute pajamas and I just threw this cute robe over my pajamas because this is just how I roll, kids!' I mean, I need to be like the cool funky step-momish or whatever figure in this arrangement....... (at this point the conversation fades into other mumbly things because it always gets awkward here, ever since I wrote a OBVIOUSLY JOKE blog post about getting married and everyone started freaking out and Paulie got really annoyed with me and I didn't like it. But I can justify the comment above by blaming the teenage son because he's always calling me his step-mom and putting me down on emergency forms as such, because as he says "it's way easier than saying 'my dad's girlfriend who we also live with', god!")

So, while I had grand dreams of slumbering adorably like that girl in that 80's movie, I didn't have the time or money to turn any of this into reality. Instead I brought this hand-me-down cozy-as-all-get-out sweater-thingy that I like to call my Frasier Sweater, because it reminds me of the time Frasier was cat-sitting and he also had a sweater-blanket around him and he looked in the mirror and realized he'd become a Cat Lady.

Thank god I don't have any cats.