2018 in Review

2018 was a year of amazing highs and the lowest lows. Here is a recap of our year. 

Harrison turned 19 on January 9th! Could he look any happier with his ice-cream cake? I think not. 

We traveled to Oceanside, CA to move Grandma Jo to an independent living facility in El Cajon. Here we are at our favorite smoothie shop in Oceanside, Banana Dang. That, plus Mission Donuts, and the sunset walks on the beach.......Oceanside is pretty great! 

In February, Arlie turned 20 on the 3rd and celebrated at home with friends. She REALLY wanted those giant balloons but I was too cheap to get them so Harrison came through. What a guy! 

And we spent the week of Valentine's Day in a hotel while our floors were being refinished from our flood the previous December. While at the hotel, the bathroom shower flooded. We can't seem to stay away from floods, although I think that was the last one we experienced so, knock on wood. Here is my attempt to be festive in a hotel and still have Valentine's Day treats. 

We also went to Moclips with Hannah and Junie B for some clamming (Jeff) and beachcombing (me, Hannah and Junie). We stayed in a sketchy little motel in an old, damp room, but we had a fun weekend break. Plus there was a fancy restaurant where Hannah and I dined while Jeff entertained Junie in our room. 

In March, we took the whole family on a trip to Hawaii! This was something we'd been wanting to do for ages, and now that the kids are grown, we finally had the means to do it. Our group numbered nine - the six of us, plus Hayley's wife Megan, Harrison's boyfriend, Alec, and Arlie's good friend Rylie. We had so many adventures and fun experiences. But Jeff got the flu and was sick the whole time. He says the entire trip was a blur and I promised him a "do-over" trip with just the two of us. Hopefully we can do that in 2019! 

In April, I went to Boise for a long weekend while Jeff went turkey hunting. I think I got the better end of the deal because I got to see this cute little girl, Fenna Mei, my newest great-niece (at the time). 

We also took a weekend trip to Grayland with Hannah and Junie again for more clamming (Jeff) and beachcombing, eating and relaxing (me, Hannah and Junie). This time we stayed in a quirky bed and breakfast and enjoyed the sunny deck, movie watching and playing hide and seek with Junie who escaped and was chasing a horse in a pasture across the street! 

In May, Jeff ran a 5k as the culmination of a "Couch to 5k" workout program at work. I clapped and cheered on the sidelines and handed out medals at the end. 

We spent Mother's day in my favorite way - on the water in our kayaks followed by a lovely dinner at home. See Junie B? What a good kayak dog! 

This weird cat had his first birthday. Theo continues to wreak havoc in our home daily. 

And this sweet pup celebrated her second with a trip to the local burger joint. Junie B is a well-loved pup!

The girls and I were supposed to go to a painting event that got canceled so we created our own paint night and these were our results. 

Jeff and I took a nice weekend trip to La Conner which was lovely. We also explored Anacortes and kayaked Heart Lake. Plus, he indulged my desire to visit all the shops! 

We had axe-throwing competitions. I'm pretty sure I won. 

I won tickets to a Mariner's game. We had nosebleed seats but it was fun! 

In June, Jeff attended his annual Rendezvous near Sedro Woolley, WA. Here he is putting up his primitive tent where he will sleep with bugs for two or three nights. I have yet to join him for this trip. Can't imagine why. 

These three graduated from Cascadia College with their AA degrees. We celebrated with a party! 

We celebrated Father's day by getting Jeff a new, fancy barbeque and having dinner at home. These are my favorite people. 

We took Jeff's parents to the Jimmy Buffet concert in Seattle. We bought our matching shirts in Hawaii and were so excited to wear them! Thought we might have overdone it until we actually got ot the concert and saw all the other Parrot Heads! 

We attended Pride in Seattle. It was hot but very rainbow-y. 

We went to the zoo with Hayley's and Hannah's nanny kids. 

In July, Jeff turned 50! We spent the day in Sequim and surrounding areas, visited the wooden boat school and saw a herd of elk. 

On the 4th of July, we marched in our hometown parade as part of the Reader's Digest "Nicest Places in America" contest. I nominated our city of Bothell and we won a spot in the top ten and were featured in Reader's Digest November 2018 issue! 

Later, we celebrated at home with fireworks. 

My cousin Sarah came from Ohio to work at UW for several weeks and we ventured to Snoqualmie Falls. 

We took a ferry ride to Kingston and had crepes. Ashley, Megan's sister, joined us as she was visiting from Indiana. 

Hayley turned 25 on July 7th! We celebrated at home with a bbq and s'mores. 

And we celebrated another 25th birthday with Haley and Lexie, this time at Cottage Lake where we kayaked. 

Jeff and Arlie took the first of their (hopefully) annual backpacking trips. 

We met up with Greg and Heather and Maiya for kayaking Lake Washington. 

We went to Boise to celebrate these two goofballs birthdays! Kaden turned 11 and Jackson turned 8. 

We had an epic shaving cream party at "Camp Aunt Mo" day with Arlie's and Hannah's nanny kids. 

Jeff competed in the Aquafest Quadrathon again - a swim, bike, run, paddle event. Not bad for an old guy! He came in second place in his age division....there were two competitors in his age division. HA!

In August, we attended the wedding of our childhood friend Haley B! It was Gatsby-esque and we dressed the part. Harrison was the officiant. 

We watched the Blue Angels over Lake Washington for Seafair weekend. 

We went to Wings Over Washington on the waterfront after a lovely dinner and sunset at Ivar's. 

Hannah turned 23 on August 9. We spent her birthday at the river in Arlington with Kena and Arlie and it was so peaceful and fun. 

Harrison got back on stage, this time as Black Stache in "Peter and the Starcatchers". Aunt Marcia and Uncle Deven came from Boise to see it. 

Jeff participated in Obliteride again, this time riding 100 miles in one day with Team Seagen. 

Harrison and Alec spent a week in Puerto Vallarta. 

While Jeff and I flew to Boston for a conference where we spent a few days exploring the city. We loved it! 

We also got to attend a Boston Red Sox game at Fenway Park! 

After Boston, we drove to Maine, exploring Salem, Portland, and other towns. We did goat yoga, saw Kennebunkport, visited Acadia National Park, and best of all, spent our time at our friends Gary and Fiona's bed and breakfast, Sugar Maple Cottage in China, ME. It was beautiful! 

In September, spent another weekend in Bend, OR with the Kelseys and Zapalowskis. They love Nanny Hanny! We had fun floating the river, swimming, lounging, eating, drinking, kayaking and biking. We also celebrated our 12th wedding anniversary! 

I traveled to Boise for Lila's 7th birthday pony party! 

And got to see Fenna Mei again. 

Harrison spent a week in Washington DC with his dad's family. 

Megan turned 22 on September 20th! We celebrated at Ghostfish Brewery in Seattle where they make gluten free beer! 

I went camping/hunting with these yahoos and spent four days using a primitive toilet and sleeping in the minivan. It was way more fun than it sounds. 

In October, we took another short trip to visit Grandma Jo in El Cajon, and this time we were there for the Laguna Mountain Rendezvous. Jeff enjoyed visiting another rendezvous. And wearing a dead animal on his head, apparently. 

We took our end of season kayak trip on Cranberry Lake near Deception Pass where I found these two engaged in quite the conversation. 

Jeff ran another 5k with his Couch to 5k group. 

Arlie went on a mission trip to Germany and Italy. Here she is in Venice. She claimed the honor of being the first among us to travel internationally.

We also won Halloween this year with these epic "Hocus Pocus" costumes. 

In November, Jeff had hernia surgery and was out of commission for a week. I didn't take a picture of that. You're welcome. 

Hannah and I traveled to Boise in November to see ALL the babies. Fenna Mei was 13 months. 

Kacie Lee was almost ten months and we hadn't met her yet! What a beautiful girl! 

And baby Anlin Fei was only two weeks old! What a treat to see her so young and "fresh" - and such a gorgeous little girl! 

We had plans to spend Thanksgiving with Jeff's family in Spokane, but things took a turn with grandma and Jeff had to fly out unexpectedly to San Diego the day before Thanksgiving to help Grandma Jo. Arlie drove to Spokane to spent Thanksgiving with her mom and the other kids spent Thanksgiving with their dad, while I enjoyed a quiet day at home after brunch with the kids. 

The Saturday following Thanksgiving, I also flew to San Diego to be with Jeff and Grandma Jo. We spent the whole time back and forth between the hospital and grandma's place and at the end of the trip we had moved grandma's things to storage and moved her out of her independent living place. She was doing better here when she and Jeff were watching the Chargers game. 

While we were at the hospital with Grandma Jo, Jeff's stepdad, Tom, was also admitted. He seemed to be doing better when we left, but sadly he passed away the day after we returned home, on December 7th. 

Jeff was home for just four days when it became apparent he needed to go back to be with grandma as her health was taking a turn for the worse again. He arrived on Sunday and on Wednesday, Dec. 12 Grandma Jo passed peacefully in hospice with Jeff by her side. 

Jeff spent the next two days in San Diego, and flew home just in time for his company work party. 

I turned 51 on December 17th. 

Hannah and I saw "Annie" at the 5th with her nanny kids, Ryder and Makena plus other friends. We had brunch at the Georgian Room and visited the Teddy Bear Suite and giant gingerbread house too. 

We took the family to see The Lion King at the Paramount. I have always wanted to see it and I splurged for great tickets for my birthday. It was amazing and unforgettable! 

We had our annual Ugly Sweater Party. This year we sponsored two single moms and were able to get them Christmas gifts and gift cards. It's always a fun time! 

On Christmas Eve, while the other kids were with their dad, Arlie, Jeff and I went to Enchant Christmas at Safeco Field. It was beautiful and sparkly - lots and lots of lights! 

We had a quiet, scaled-back and lowkey Christmas at home which was just what the doctor ordered after our stressful month. .We all picked a category this year and gave gifts from that category. I gave books, Hannah gave movies, Hayley and Megan gave crystals, pendants and boxes to keep it all in, Alec gave tea, Arlie gave socks and cozy items, Harrison gave candles and Jeff gave gas cards. It was simple and lovely. 

We rang in the New Year in similar fashion - at home with a quiet celebration. We spent the week between Christmas and New Year's Eve doing a lot of napping and staying in pajamas. It was a much-needed break!

And now we begin 2019. We hope for a year with less loss and sadness, and more of the moment of happiness we experienced in 2018. We are grateful for another year of chaos, as we wouldn't have it any other way. And we hope you always remember to find joy in the littlest things as you move forward and embrace a new year. 

Happy New Year 2019! 

Primitive toilets and lost sleep...........

Next weekend I will embark upon an adventure with my husband, Mountain Man. You see, he typically goes "hunting" around this time of year - sometimes for elk or deer or, in this year's case, grouse. Because his big-game pursuits have yielded less than stellar results (for him, anyway....I tend to cheer for the game!) in previous years. And last year, snow foiled the plans and led to an early departure. So, this year he and his mountain man friends decided they would go grouse hunting in late September.

Mountain Man has taken to calling his hunting adventures "walking in the woods with a gun" because rarely is anything harmed. He enjoys the outdoors, gathering around the campfire, and spending days on end with no plumbing or electricity. I, myself, delight in WiFi and flushing toilets, so I have never joined him in this "hunt". But this year he has convinced me to jump on the bandwagon and spend four days in the great outdoors.

As a result, I have lost an inordinate amount of sleep worrying about the potty situation.

For the past decade or so, I've regularly risen at least once per night to use the bathroom. I stumble in the pitch-black to the familiar cubicle and do my business without worrying about mosquitos biting my bum, a bumbling bear interrupting my bathroom business, or tripping on a root and having a dirt snack. And I'd really like to keep it that way. So, the thought of trekking several hundred yards to the community pit toilet, carrying the TP and hand sanitizer with me so as to signal others that I'm the one using the items missing from the coffee can at the end of the trail, and squatting over a primitive toilet, gives me nightmares.

Mountain Man, bless his heart, has agreed to bring our portable potty seat (basically a camping chair with a hole in it and a velcro cover designed specifically for the purpose of pottying outdoors) and a pop-up cover so I can do my business in our own version of a vinyl outhouse. He says he will dig a deep hole under the camping chair. Which also gives me nightmares - we all know a great number of small animals enjoy living in holes. Maybe not ones with potty business in them, but still. He assures me this portable poop house will be near enough to the minivan that I won't have to trek far in the night, but also far enough away so any errant odors are contained (I plan to bring PooPourri).

We will sleep in our minivan and I've purchased a nifty camping pad with inflatable pillows with which we will make a cozy nest. Mountain Man planned to bring his entire primitive tent set-up but has since reconsidered due to space constraints. We will also need to bring sleeping bags, warm clothing, food for four days, and enough water to drink, wash and cook. I will need to bring many things to entertain me, as there is no WiFi, nor cell service (gasp!) and I may be spending long periods of time alone at the campsite as others go on their "hunts". Sure, I can join Mountain Man whilst trekking through the woods looking for tiny, innocent birds to ambush, but hunting isn't really my thing - I'd rather shoot pictures than bullets, so I will be exploring solo.

Which brings me to other dangers that keep me awake at night. Cougars, for one. Yes, it's extremely rare to even see, much less be attacked by, a cougar, but it's happened in our area twice just this summer so I'm planning to keep my eyes wide open. And perhaps carry a firearm. Also, the woods are the perfect place for crazed killers to prey. Who's to say I won't encounter a serial killer on the trails? Bears enjoy foraging for food in the woods, and I'll technically be in THEIR house so what are the chances one of them will give chase? Honestly, I'll probably just stay safely locked in the minivan, perhaps hiding under the covers in the back with the safety of the tinted windows.

Why am I even going on this trip? For one thing, I love road trips with Mountain Man and this trip takes us almost to Canada on the East side of the mountains so the adventure involves quite a drive. Second, he has promised me picturesque scenery and perhaps some fall foliage photo ops. We also plan to drive by a gorgeous lake I've always wanted to see. He expressed how much he's always wanted my company on one of these trips and I now have the flexibility in my job to join him. And I get to see a side of him I rarely get to witness - his interaction and involvement with his fellow mountain men.

It would be so easy to just say no. To stay home in my warm house and fritter away a weekend doing nothing or lots of things. But I'm all in. Even though I'm super anxious about the whole thing. Four days of no shower, an icky potty, no makeup, no WiFi, lots of alone time........it's enough to put me into a full-blown frenzy. But I aim to embrace it, to disconnect and see where it takes me.

Even though I'm losing sleep over it. To adventure!

Wine drunk women and loneliness in middle age..........

I attended a beautiful wedding recently. It was a perfect evening and the festivities were winding down. The bride and groom were getting ready to make their exit when a woman I have met just once came over and sat down next to me.

"Hi! I'm J. I just thought I'd come over here and introduce myself and let you know that I'm the bitch who took your place in book club!"

As introductions go, this was one of the strangest I've ever encountered. I had met this women once before the wedding at a paint night event for the bride. I hadn't even spoken to her, really, beyond the name-only introductions.

For context, the book club this woman was referring to consisted of a small group of six ladies meeting for a book club started by my hairdresser which included my friend, the mother of the bride, her daughter, the bride, a former co-worker friend of mine, and a couple of ladies I only knew by name, J included.

I had not been invited to join this book club, although I had heard about it several years ago, been asked if I was interested, and expressed my interest to join. That invite never came and I barely gave it another thought. And then I found out my close friend was invited in one of those weird "one person knows another person and another person knows a crossover person who knows both people" ways. Although I would surely have been interested in joining - and, by my own account, would have been a hilarious addition to the "club" (haha), I was not invited and I really didn't give it much thought.

I joined another book club for a while. It fizzled out, as those things do. And my life went on.

So, there I was, enjoying a perfectly beautiful wedding, when this woman made this proclamation that knocked me askew.

"Oh?" I responded, giggling nervously, because I was not at all sure where this conversation was going.

She went on to tell me that three years previous, she had met my hairdresser who had asked her to join this book club. For reasons unknown, the club was limited to six women, and while I had apparently been in the running as a member, I was shunned in favor of J. Or at least this is what J told me.

She then went on to say that although she should feel bad for "taking my spot" she really didn't, because, by her account, she "needed it more than me" (her words). She went on to say this four or five more times - how I was "lucky" because I already knew a lot of the members but she had moved to town three years ago, friendless, and how would she have met anyone otherwise? She said it was the greatest group of women she'd been acquainted with, and how she really valued their time together that included girls' weekends.

I listened quietly, and assured her how happy I was for her that she'd made good friends (because the ladies in the book club are really amazing women). I thought the conversation would end there, but she continued to emphasize how she "needed" their friendship more and so she was not really sorry for "taking my place".

At a point in the conversation, my husband, who I had turned my back on to speak to this woman, could sense the conversation with this wine-drunk woman was dragging on, so he retrieved three bottles of "send off" bubbles and offered us each a bottle, indicating it was time to move on to saying goodbye to the couple. Still, she prattled on.

I finally stood up to make my way to the "send-off" line and lost her in the crowd somewhere. We blew the bubbles, said goodbye and I hustled my family to the car for the long ride home, spent from hearing how much I didn't "need" friends.

I didn't speak of the conversation at first, and my husband later told me he wasn't able to hear any of what she was saying to me, only that he noticed I was a captive audience, however unwilling a participant. When we returned home, we were exhausted and went to bed.

The following morning, I relayed the whole story to my husband. Normally, he is not all that interested in girlish gossip, but after I finished he said, "What was the point of that conversation except to make you feel bad?"

And he had a point. The conversation DID make me feel bad, but not because she "took my spot" in the book club. It made me feel awful because she assumed, without knowing one thing about me, that I didn't need friends as much as she did. And I had to wonder why she thought that. Why she assumed I had so many friends that she could feel justified in taking mine.

Because it's not true.

I realize no one "owns" their friends - friends are to be shared. Certainly many people have varied and unconnected friend groups from different walks of life. But what J didn't know is that I was right smack in the middle of an emotional crisis about exactly that - friends!

At 50, I find myself less connected with multiple groups of other parents raising kids who become our friends. I've had dance mom friends, sports mom friends, school mom friends, neighborhood mom friends. Friendships that have come and gone, changed and morphed over the years. I've had friends I've seen every day and friends I see rarely but still feel very connected to.

As my kids have grown, and I no longer have those groups, my friends have changed. My work doesn't lend itself to making friends easily - as a substitute teacher, I am not part of a staff that regularly work together. Certainly I am friendly with a great many teachers and staff at the schools where I work, but that friendship stays within the walls of the school.

My social connections outside of work are very few. I've settled into a work/home mode that has me spending much of my free time with just my husband or my husband and grown kids. I suppose that's natural - we're all growing up together and as our families branch out and connect in other places, our friendships and lifestyle changes.

My husband is most definitely my best friend, and, lucky for me, he's pretty fun to be with. We have grand adventures and small moments and I know he is there for me at all times. That friend you can call at 4 a.m. no matter what? I don't have that, but I can always wake my husband up.

I've never really gone on a girls' weekend. I spent one night in a hotel with three friends once when my kids were much younger. The hotel was in the next town, 15 minutes away, and while it was lots of fun, it wasn't a long weekend of girl time and making memories. I know people who do girls' weekends regularly. That just isn't my history. And while it sounds like fun, it also sounds like sharing a hotel room with someone other than my own family and, frankly, I like to keep my snoring to myself and sleep in peace. My introverted side says I'm perfectly ok with not straying far from my safe nest at home unless I have a close family member by my side. My lonelier side says I wish I had friends who wanted to spend a weekend with me.

I have one friend who absolutely wins the gold medal in keeping a tiny group of us connected. By tiny I mean three. What started as a very large group of moms and babies who met weekly for playdates has dwindled down to three 50-something woman with grown children who still meet up fairly regularly for coffee. That coffee date regularly lasts four hours and we are never surprised by how fast the time flies when we are together. This friend is amazing at remembering, every few weeks, to text us with a reminder that it's been a while and could we meet for coffee or dinner and drinks soon? And we do. And it's like no time has passed at all. Thank goodness for that friend.

But a certain level of loneliness has crept into my life and I'm finding myself caught in a conundrum of making peace with it and just loving my home life (I do!) and wanting to keep making friends and connections. Is it ever too late to make lifelong friends?

Recently, someone posted on a Facebook community page about how hard it is to make friends. Hundreds of people from all walks of life and all ages responded in kind - it IS so hard to make friends. Many said people are generally friendly but don't seem to want to make deeper connections. In this introverted world, that is not completely surprising. We work hard, have busy lives, and our free time is precious (and far too limited). It's no wonder that we just want to flop on the couch when we get home, take off the bra and do nothing. Going out requires effort. Showing up requires work.

But we also long to be connected - I remember days of having a playgroup, Bunco group, and a book club all while juggling after-school lessons, homework, attending whatever the latest "party" was (baskets, stamps, scrapbooking) and the general chaos of raising kids. It's no wonder those social obligations started to feel like work. I've often joked that I just want to start "club" - no book, game, multi-level marketing ploy or other factor to make it feel like an obligation. Just "club" - where everyone is welcome, you bring food and drink, and you just eat, talk and connect until you're tired and go home. Why do we need structure to form friendships?

So, while I'd like to pass off my conversation with J as just a wine-drunk woman making small talk, I can't stop thinking about why a woman would want to tell another woman something for the sole purpose of making her feel awful. It just doesn't compute.

We are all worthy of friendship. What I've learned is that sometimes you have to look in other places. As your life changes and grows, so do your personal connections. Sometimes you find a great friendship in the least expected place. Sometimes you will go through a very lonely, isolating time. Sometimes you have to start over.

But at the very least, I've always made it my goal to be inclusive and to give people a chance. Sure, I'm not going to like everyone and I'm absolutely certain many people will not like me. But I often get comments from social media about how much "fun" my life is and how awesome my family is. And it IS awesome. But it is lonely, far too often. I thank God every day that I have my amazing kids and sweet husband to keep me going because some days it's hard. I used to have a tribe and now I have a very small group of friends whom I see far too infrequently. I've always valued quality over quantity - growing up attending a new school each year really teaches you the value of that! So, for those few, I am grateful.

But I know I'm not alone. I know there are so many, like me, who feel unconnected or unsteady in their connections. If that's you, reach out. I can always use new friends. And I hate for anyone to feel left out. If you see my online presence and think "Hey, she looks like a fun person to hang out with!" just message me and say that! I know how isolating it can be at this stage of life. And I would never want to assume you have enough friends to sustain you. You never know what someone is going through.

Finally, if you are wine-drunk at a wedding, you might want to stop talking. You will never know the consequences of your words. You probably won't even remember them. But someone will. And they'll write a blog about it. Be nice.

And another one.............

Yet another school shooting made headlines today with reports of 8-10 dead. We have become so numb as a nation, as a people, that we do absolutely nothing and just wait for the next tragedy to happen. It goes like this: 1. Thoughts and prayers, 2. No changes, 3. We sit and wait for the next child to be shot.

In the meantime, we hold drills and teach our kids what to do - as if anyone really knows what to do - because when it comes down to it, no one can be fully prepared. Who knows who will decide to bring a gun to school? Where will they enter the building? Where will YOU be when the shooting starts? You can prepare all day long but when it actually happens, you will be vulnerable. And you might be next.

As an educator, I'm familiar with drills - lock down, safe inside, active shooter. We have earthquake drills and fire drills. And preparation is a good thing. When my own children were at school during a scary earthquake, their preparation helped them be calm, exit the building in an orderly fashion, and assemble in an outside area to be accounted for. My 5-year-old even counted the students in her class and reported to her teacher that all were present before they exited. Preparation is wonderful for natural disasters. But a school shooting is not a natural disaster.

Last week I taught kindergarten. I was told there would be a lock down drill and the time it would take place. We were allowed to inform the students and encouraged to discuss actions we could take in the event a "bad person" got into our classroom. Of course, active 5- and 6-year-old imaginations ran wild and more than one child said they would "ninja kick" the bad guy, or perhaps hide in the ceiling tiles and drop down on the unsuspecting villain. I had to tell them that our "villain" was not like the ones on TV and that we would want to avoid being close enough to "ninja kick" anyone.

One boy observed that if we scattered about the room, each holding a wooden block, we could bombard the intruder from all sides and confuse him while others ran. Another child talked about how her mother taught her to be completely silent while hiding. Other children noted multiple exits in the room and wondered if they could throw a chair through the window to escape, if necessary.

As the time of the drill crept closer, I could sense the agitation. The students knew it would be shortly after recess so when they came in, hot and sweaty from running in the sunshine on a beautiful Northwest afternoon, one child turned off the lights and another ran to close the blinds. "Not yet!" I advised, "Remember we have to be doing our normal routine so we can practice getting into lock down mode quickly."

So, we sat at the carpet and began to read a story when the announcement came over the intercom. The students popped up with nervous energy but many caught themselves and forced their little feet to walk, not run, to hide in closets or the bathroom. Someone turned off the lights and the blinds were closed. The door was already locked. Children scattered and crammed their tiny bodies into coat closets while I ushered the majority to the bathroom where we could crouch behind a locked door.

In the pitch black, I could see no one and had no idea of knowing who exactly was in the room with me and who had tucked into the closets. My voice was a steady stream of the quietest "shhhh" I could manage for the children who just could not be silent, no matter how hard they tried (and they tried hard!) I could hear the closet doors popping open, soft whispers, the doors closing quietly. I heard a hand pull on the outside classroom door - hard. And we waited for what seemed like an eternity but was less than ten minutes.

When the all clear was sounded and we spilled out, blinking, into the bright light of the classroom (one of the closet dwellers had been quick to turn on the lights), we gathered at the rug again. We talked about what we did right (we stayed as quiet as possible) and what went wrong (we decided the closets were bad hiding places because if a door popped open and a bad guy was there, the kids could not escape). We again discussed our roles - run, hide, fight. There was some more ninja talk.

But mostly there was a knowledge and a preparedness that no child in kindergarten should have to be privy to. These kids live in a world where the unthinkable happens all the time. No longer is it something that happens to "someone else" or in "other places". Every day we have to consider that we might have an active shooter and know that it will be virtually impossible to save everyone (or anyone). And so we practice, and we hope that we never need to hide in the dark.

And then we read a cheerful story because 5- and 6-year-olds are incredibly resilient and have short attention spans but they are ready for anything. Even the unthinkable.

Santa Fe High School May 18, 2018

The Monday-est Tuesday.........

Let me tell you a story. Yesterday, I had a "procedure" done on my foot. Ok, I had warts frozen off. Yes, I'd rather have pretty feet than have the pedicure ladies look at me sideways every time they use the cheese grater on my feet. I've tried to get rid of them for years - all the over the counter stuff, the duct tape, everything. Finally I'd had it and went to a podiatrist (who was really strange, by the way, but that's another post). He said he needed to freeze them each at least 40 sprays so it took a while. And he stressed several times how painful it would be and that there "is simply no pain-free way to get rid of warts." He also stated that some go away on their own but that "at your age" it was unlikely. At my age, indeed!

The procedure itself was relatively pain-free but a few hours later, it was obvious what he meant when he said (time and again) how painful it would be. I'm SO glad I didn't have any jobs scheduled this week beyond the one I did yesterday, because by this morning, I could not stand on my foot at all. I already had a haircut scheduled today with my curly-hair specialist so there was no way I was going to miss that. I hobbled on the side of my foot, took a shower, got ready, and limped downstairs to put the dog in the kennel.

And that's when it happened - my back went out! I guess walking on the side of my foot torqued my back in such a way that when I bent over to lock the kennel I felt the tell-tale searing pain of a back that was unhappy with my gait. Arrows of pain shot across my lower back and I assumed the ever-so-careful walk of a person afraid to incite pain by moving. Or breathing. I headed to the car with an ice pack for my back - I'm nothing if not a multi-tasker.

I left in plenty of time to grab a coffee on my way, but when I pulled away from the coffee stand with my iced mocha and muffin treat, I realized they gave me the wrong muffin! I actually stopped at another coffee stand on the way hoping to acquire my favorite muffin but they didn't have that flavor so I settled for a chocolate-chip muffin and headed to the freeway.

As I crested the overpass, I saw a huge backup on the freeway and my GPS changed to a bright red line for miles. Undaunted, I took an alternate route and arrived 10 minutes late. I missed the entrance to the parking garage and had to drive past the salon to turn around. Seeing a face in the window I gave a quick "Sorry I'm late, I'll be there in a sec" guilty wave, only to realized the face belonged to a mannequin. I waved to a doll head!

The parking garage was full so I had to park a distance away. I did my best quick hobble/limp/skip to get to the salon and began my litany of excuses (all legitimate!). My hairdresser did her magic with my hair and my curls were restored to their natural beauty (ha!).

All I wanted at this point was to be home where I could put my extremely sore foot up, and ice my back. But I had a wicked craving for Puffcorn. This is a junky food that comes in a bag for $2. It resembles Pirate's Booty but has the distinctive orange Cheeto dust on it. It has no nutritional value and it's delicious. My mom introduced this treat to me a few months ago when I visited her in Boise and now I've consumed at least two bags. It's not hard to eat an entire bag in one sitting, and that goes against everything I believe in eating reasonably. I'm not even a fan of anything "chip" like most of the time, but as with all my cravings, if I just let this one run it's course, soon I will tire of it and I won't care about it again. Years ago my sister introduced me to Little Debbie Nutty bars and it was hit and miss there for a bit but I kicked that addiction and I don't even think about them anymore.

Anyway. I really wanted a bag of Puffcorn so I stopped at the local Safeway. My daughter had procured a bag of this crack a few days before at a Safeway so I thought certainly they would have it. Against my better judgment, and my current level of pain, I hopped into Safeway and limped up and down the chip aisle no less than four times before accepting the fact that my beloved Puffcorn was not to be. Dejected, I left the store. To add insult to injury, there was something sticky on the shopping cart and it got all over my hands! I'm super glad I keep a large bottle of hand sanitizer in my car because I doused my hands when I got in the car. Gross.

I emailed my husband about my day so far, and he generously offered to stop at a different store on the way home, on his bike, to pick up my treat. Now, that is a selfless man. But I decided to text my daughter because I looked it up online and the internet said Puffcorn could be purchased at Target. Knowing she would pass a Target on the way home, I figured she could just stop in and pick some up for me. Along with Ben and Jerry's Coffee Toffee crunch ice cream because by now my craving was having a craving. You know how it happens.

Well. Not only did Target not have the Puffcorn but they didn't have the ice cream either. Let me stop here and say that I do not need either of these treats. In fact, my life would be so much better if I never consumed anything with carbs in it for the next 50 years. But I wanted to eat my feelings (as I do) and I couldn't find the Tylenol so I figured it might subdue the pain. Hey, it could have been crack or copious amounts of wine. We all have our drug.

When I got home, I packed some grapes and crackers for a snack and took them and a large glass of water upstairs to tuck into bed with an ice pack and watch Forensic Files. But I couldn't make the TV work. Stupid thing. I found four remotes and by trial and error I made a combination of two of them work and I finally got to watch some true crime before I fell blissfully asleep for two pain-free hours. But then I woke up. And I still wanted Puffcorn but my daughter arrived home with a consolation prize of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and I didn't even eat one because it's not what I wanted and I have some self-control. Sort of.

At any rate, I did not get my treats today. But Jeff did make me a cake. Before you get all sappy about what a great guy he is, let me tell you the back story. My eldest daughter made me a delicious cake on Mother's day (two days ago) using a few baking hacks I told her about. The cake turned out wonderful and I declared that NO ONE was to eat any more of it because the last two slices were for me, goddammit, because I'm the mom and it was for mother's day. And no one argued with me. But my husband, who has absolutely no control over his chocolate addiction, and who had already consumed a large piece of cake WITH ice cream earlier in the evening, felt he needed a nightcap and cut himself a slice of cake before bed. And in the morning, when he went downstairs, that last piece of cake called to him and he shoved it in his face while standing over the sink, without even thinking of me, or the fact that the last piece of ANYTHING sweet and good in this house is automatically mine and everyone knows it. So, when I packed my lunch the next day, all happy that I had cake to look forward to, you know, to break up the day with 20-some kindergartners, I was devastated to see the cake plate standing empty. You better believe I texted him in ALL CAPS and gave him the what-for about stealing MY cake.

So, he made a new cake out of pure guilt and it was delectable. Probably because it was a guilt cake, but still. My foot still feels like tiny knives are stabbing it when I put any pressure on it, and my back is still jacked-up. I know I need to rest and heal and that's about the hardest thing for me to do. I am not accustomed to lying still. I've had no less than five teachers text me today asking if I can work for them this week. I'm busy, dammit, and I need to be functional. But I'm forced to slow down and it's going to drive me nuts.

Also, I ordered six bags of Puffcorn from Walmart. They arrive Friday. Bless the internet.

Happy Mother's Day!

It's coming! That one day a year when mothers are revered, showered with gifts and flowers and perhaps treated to a special meal. Mother's day is a lovely sentiment but not nearly enough of a celebration of what will, far and away, be the hardest job you've ever had (and loved). Mothering is not for the weak and it doesn't end in 18 years. Mothering is a lifelong commitment, a job with duties you can not even imagine you will be strong enough to endure. But you will.

Parts of mothering will not be beautiful or sweet or conjure images of a Madonna and child, bathed in soft light, gazing at each other lovingly. No, parts of it will tear you in half and make you cry tears you didn't even know you had and make you question your worth and the very decision to bring a human into this world.

Parts of mothering will make you laugh with a joy you didn't know could happen, and you will marvel at the wonder of this creature you created - so smart, so beautiful, so perfect. HOW did you get so lucky? You really won the jackpot with this one. This one puts all other tiny humans to shame.

Parts of mothering will leave you exhausted with a tired so bone-deep you can't even imagine sleeping it off. How did you ever survive on so little sleep? How do you get things done? And why don't those little ones nap long enough? And then one day you will lay down to take a nap and wake, discombobulated, with a slight panic that you missed something or left someone unattended and you will realize that there are no small ones to care for anymore and you can nap whenever you damn well please.

Parts of mothering will leave you scratching your head in confusion about the decisions your young ones make, and why they don't just take your sage advice when you've lived a good amount of life, already, darn it, and you KNOW things. You will watch them make costly mistakes with love, life and finances and you will try hard not to say "I told you so" but you'll whisper it anyway, because you DID.

Parts of mothering will make you wish you never obtained a driver's license. Because you will drive and drive and drive and you will be so sick of driving. You will have rules about eating in the car and by the end of baseball season, your floorboards will be strewn with stale french fries and the empty carcasses of Gatorade bottles. You will stow extra makeup, wipes, snacks and blankets in the car such that by the end of your youngest child's last year in high school, your car will become a fully-stocked second home, complete with emergency kit, extra water, and enough reusable shopping bags to create a suitable outdoor tent, should the need arise.

Parts of mothering will make you wonder who you ever were before becoming a mom, and find yourself hesitating when asked about your hobbies, because you're not sure arranging a PTA luncheon or or spending hours on the phone booking orthodontist appointments count as "hobbies". You will sign up for a photography class but miss half of them because it's spring and that means there are dozens of "end of the year" activities, concerts, parties and events where kids receive cheap plastic trophies. And you will attend because you're the mom.

Parts of mothering will make you wish you'd gone to nursing school, or at least taken a decent psychology class, so you could tell the difference between "I don't feel good" and appendicitis. You'll err on the side of your preference to go to yoga and send the kid to school, only to have the nurse call you while you are in downward dog to say your child is running a fever. And you will skip savasana and rush to the school and feel like a shit mom because you thought he was standing in front of the stove again and faking a fever.

Parts of mothering, especially when you have more than one child, will have you forgetting that child at soccer camp, after-school activities, and possibly Target if they have the audacity to wander off when you are in the middle of checking things off a list in between a sibling's dentist appointment and the marimba concert at school that evening. You will receive a frantic text and you will text back "in the checkout line" when you are really at coffee with your friend and it's hour three. And the youth will survive.

Parts of mothering will have you reaching for a glass of wine once the baby has finally, blessedly, gone to sleep and you have exactly 14 minutes of "me time" before you fall asleep on the couch. And the next thing you know, the baby is awake and she's 23 and you're meeting her for happy hour and the two of you down two margaritas each and stumble off into the sunshine because she's a lightweight and you're a lightweight and when did that happen? But you will laugh and say "Are you drunk?" and you will have a designated driver because you're both responsible that way.

Parts of mothering will have you basking in pride at the way your kids have grown up and grown into their own authentic beings, despite and because of your parenting. They will have jobs and responsibilities and their own residence. And at first you'll wish you had grandkids because you just can't bear the fact that they aren't little anymore and you NEED to squeeze a squishy baby.  But then you will realize you really want grandkids because you can't bear not to see the world through a child's eyes and you yearn for that sense of wonder again. And perhaps it's because you never really grew up yourself, despite the fact that you bore and raised multiple humans to adulthood. Maybe you just want to color again and blow bubbles, and have a reason to sit in the fire engine at the summer festival. And that's ok.

Parts of mothering will define you and become you and you will realize that although you never asked for much of the strife and pain that goes along with the job, you also never expected rewards so deep and love so sincere.

Happy Mother's Day!