It is Sunday night and I am full of Vietnamese food. We took the girls for Pho and they loved it. It is a little family place with all the utensils you might ever need on the table already so the girls keep themselves occupied with chopsticks and Asian soup spoons and even forks for the full one minute 43 seconds it takes for our food to arrive. I always order the lemongrass chicken vermicelli noodle salad. It is all my favorite textures of soft and crispy and cool in one bowl. I already want to go back there for more tomorrow. After dinner we went for ice cream at Toy Boat Dessert Cafe (you have to say the full name every time). I shouldn't have gotten a hot cocoa but I ordered the smallest one and I am still very full from it.
Yesterday we went to the San Francisco Farmer's Market at the Ferry Building. We used to go every week, but in the summer and fall it is way too crowded so we took a break for a while. Yesterday it was sprinkling and I always like to go to the market in bad weather to support the farmers that need to sell their goods rain or shine. We got our usual breakfast there- Chilaquiles with farm fresh eggs and avocado. The girls just get the eggs and avocado and a blueberry muffin and cinnamon bun. We sit on our picnic blanket and eat our breakfast while watching passers by crane their necks to look at us as if we are in a zoo enclosure. It is still amazing how much attention identical twins attract. Every San Franciscan who goes to the market has probably seen me stuffing a sauce laden tortilla chip in my mouth at some point. Oh Well.
The girls love the market and are learning about all sorts of fruits and veggies. Yesterday they asked if we could get more romanesco, a vegetable I first saw at a market in Normandy when I was 28 years old. We also got kiwis and Pomelos and grapefruit after many samples. Yum.
On the way to the market we went down the crooked part of Lombard Street and through North Beach where Coit Tower was in view. On the way back we went through China town where they were setting up for Chinese New Year celebrations and drove through the Broadway Tunnel. These are all sights in the San Francisco book that the girls love to read. We love living in San Francisco.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
Hide and Sick
I lost one of my diamond stud earrings tonight. I should say I lost it again tonight because I have lost one of them three other times in the seven years three months I have been wearing them. Once it was on my pillow, once my sister found it in my parents' bathroom on the floor, and once it was on my shoulder and I later deduced it had been there for at least an hour!
My husband gave me the earrings on our wedding day. I rarely ever take them out of my ears. They are a part of me. But that is why it is always gut wrenching when I notice one is missing.
Tonight we discovered that it was missing when my husband found the backing to it on the bathroom rug. We had just switched places after I finished washing the girls in the bathtub and they wanted him to get them out of the tub. He noticed the backing and asked if my earring was missing and to my horror it was. Of course we had spent the 30 minutes before bath time playing Hide and Go Seek all over the upstairs.
My girls are not very good at hide and seek yet, something that makes me want to grab them up and hug them tight and tell them never to grow up. It is just so cute that I can be “hiding” in plain view behind a sparse bush with a bright red sweatshirt on and they can walk right by the bush and miss me while I am counting their freckles as they stand 6 inches away from me.
Anyway I had hid about 8 times and the last place I hid was a tough one- between the dresser and the wall and behind the laundry hamper with the duvet cover over my head. I hid so well because my husband was helping them look and I wanted to stump him too. I did for a minute, but then he found me and I will never forget the look of surprise and fear and joy on their faces when I popped out from under that duvet cover in a place they never considered looking.
Later, when I realized my earring was missing, I had to go through every piece of laundry in the hamper to make sure it hadn’t fallen out while I was hiding near the hamper. I ran my hand over the entire duvet cover- outside and inside to make sure it hadn’t gotten caught in it. I have never noticed so much dust or dog hair on our floor as I did tonight with my face 2 inches from it. I had to fight the urge to vacuum that second because I didn’t want to vacuum up my earring.
Of course I had also pulled off my sweatshirt and long-sleeved shirt to change into a tank top so I wouldn’t get my sleeves wet to give them a bath, and I set them on my bed with 5 quilts and sheets and blankets, two feet away from the dog bed with his two blankets. I have scoured every inch of every blanket we own because every blanket we own happened to be balled up next to the place I took off my sweatshirt over my head where my earring might have come out.
Whenever I lose something like this I am amazed at the thousands of steps I take in even a five-minute time span. At bath time and bedtime it might be close to 10,000 steps. Darting into rooms to grab a towel, a diaper, toothbrush, toothpaste, cortisone cream, socks, a hairbrush, pajamas, and relocating them all multiple times as two busy girls redistribute them from room to room.
I got that sick feeling in my stomach that I only get when something important is lost and I know I won’t be able to relax until I find it. I also had to get the girls ready for bed while being careful to watch and see if an earring fell down when I moved any object. I couldn’t stop scouring everything with my eyes. Maybe if I just look at every square centimeter of every surface of every object we have in our house, I will find it. But then, how do I know I lost it in our house? What if it is in the car? or in the walk from the car to the house? or at the Gymnastics studio? or the Warming Hut? or Trader Joe’s? or at the family’s house where I dropped off dinner so that they could have more time to care for their infant twins? What if it was in the soup or pumpkin bread I brought them? I had to stop looking and put my girls to bed. I felt like I would be sick for a week constantly looking for a tiny sparkling earring that was lost forever.
Whenever I lose something I make the same promises to myself. That I will be more organized, that I will get rid of the clutter, that I will vacuum and dust more, that I will keep better track of things that are important to me. I try to stay calm, to not beat myself up. But in my nervous energy of searching, I get more cleaning and organizing and purging done than in days when all seems right in the world.
Once the girls were tucked in and had gone potty again and had their fill of water and hugs and kisses and me sitting on the sofa “for one more minute,” I got out a flashlight and continued my search.
This was an idea from my mom who found a single stone from my engagement ring on the pantry floor of her 3000+ square foot house after hours of searching every square inch of the floor by carrying a wind-up flashlight and turning off the lights. My mom is incredible. I looked everywhere I had already looked except this time in the dark with a tiny keychain flashlight. Sadly, dog hair and dust show up in the dark too.
I turned on the light and was about to give up. I sat on my bed and took the headband out of my hair. I heard a tiny object hit the wood floor. It was my earring.
My husband gave me the earrings on our wedding day. I rarely ever take them out of my ears. They are a part of me. But that is why it is always gut wrenching when I notice one is missing.
Tonight we discovered that it was missing when my husband found the backing to it on the bathroom rug. We had just switched places after I finished washing the girls in the bathtub and they wanted him to get them out of the tub. He noticed the backing and asked if my earring was missing and to my horror it was. Of course we had spent the 30 minutes before bath time playing Hide and Go Seek all over the upstairs.
My girls are not very good at hide and seek yet, something that makes me want to grab them up and hug them tight and tell them never to grow up. It is just so cute that I can be “hiding” in plain view behind a sparse bush with a bright red sweatshirt on and they can walk right by the bush and miss me while I am counting their freckles as they stand 6 inches away from me.
Anyway I had hid about 8 times and the last place I hid was a tough one- between the dresser and the wall and behind the laundry hamper with the duvet cover over my head. I hid so well because my husband was helping them look and I wanted to stump him too. I did for a minute, but then he found me and I will never forget the look of surprise and fear and joy on their faces when I popped out from under that duvet cover in a place they never considered looking.
Later, when I realized my earring was missing, I had to go through every piece of laundry in the hamper to make sure it hadn’t fallen out while I was hiding near the hamper. I ran my hand over the entire duvet cover- outside and inside to make sure it hadn’t gotten caught in it. I have never noticed so much dust or dog hair on our floor as I did tonight with my face 2 inches from it. I had to fight the urge to vacuum that second because I didn’t want to vacuum up my earring.
Of course I had also pulled off my sweatshirt and long-sleeved shirt to change into a tank top so I wouldn’t get my sleeves wet to give them a bath, and I set them on my bed with 5 quilts and sheets and blankets, two feet away from the dog bed with his two blankets. I have scoured every inch of every blanket we own because every blanket we own happened to be balled up next to the place I took off my sweatshirt over my head where my earring might have come out.
Whenever I lose something like this I am amazed at the thousands of steps I take in even a five-minute time span. At bath time and bedtime it might be close to 10,000 steps. Darting into rooms to grab a towel, a diaper, toothbrush, toothpaste, cortisone cream, socks, a hairbrush, pajamas, and relocating them all multiple times as two busy girls redistribute them from room to room.
I got that sick feeling in my stomach that I only get when something important is lost and I know I won’t be able to relax until I find it. I also had to get the girls ready for bed while being careful to watch and see if an earring fell down when I moved any object. I couldn’t stop scouring everything with my eyes. Maybe if I just look at every square centimeter of every surface of every object we have in our house, I will find it. But then, how do I know I lost it in our house? What if it is in the car? or in the walk from the car to the house? or at the Gymnastics studio? or the Warming Hut? or Trader Joe’s? or at the family’s house where I dropped off dinner so that they could have more time to care for their infant twins? What if it was in the soup or pumpkin bread I brought them? I had to stop looking and put my girls to bed. I felt like I would be sick for a week constantly looking for a tiny sparkling earring that was lost forever.
Whenever I lose something I make the same promises to myself. That I will be more organized, that I will get rid of the clutter, that I will vacuum and dust more, that I will keep better track of things that are important to me. I try to stay calm, to not beat myself up. But in my nervous energy of searching, I get more cleaning and organizing and purging done than in days when all seems right in the world.
Once the girls were tucked in and had gone potty again and had their fill of water and hugs and kisses and me sitting on the sofa “for one more minute,” I got out a flashlight and continued my search.
This was an idea from my mom who found a single stone from my engagement ring on the pantry floor of her 3000+ square foot house after hours of searching every square inch of the floor by carrying a wind-up flashlight and turning off the lights. My mom is incredible. I looked everywhere I had already looked except this time in the dark with a tiny keychain flashlight. Sadly, dog hair and dust show up in the dark too.
I turned on the light and was about to give up. I sat on my bed and took the headband out of my hair. I heard a tiny object hit the wood floor. It was my earring.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
History
I couldn't sleep last night in anticipation of today's inauguration. I woke up so early to start watching the events. Both our DVRs are full of four different channels of coverage.
Katie and Carter were up so early as well. They were dressed with shoes on and hair fixed by 8am even though their school doesn't start until 8:45.
My plan was to be there as soon as the door opened, drop them off and zoom home just in time to see Obama take the oath of office. I didn't make it. I just couldn't take my eyes off the television so my husband took the girls to school today. He walked in the door just as Obama was finished with the oath.
I was upstairs, blinds closed to eliminate glare on the TV screen, watching intently in my softest pajamas and Ugg Boots. I am so proud of our new President. I am proud that our country is represented by such an intelligent, capable, successful, inspiring human being. He is sensitive, compassionate, inclusive, tough and resolved to make our country a better place in every way.
When he said what he said about bringing science back to the forefront, my tears started. I just feel like my soul has been in a frozen winter the past eight years and finally finally we can see some sunlight. I hope we are not too far frozen.
I hope my girls remember this day, when they were three and Barack Obama became our 44th president. It means nothing to them now, but I hope it will mean everything for their lifetime. I hope it will signify the time when our country righted its course and everything started to get back on track. To come back to life again.
I cried again when I saw Michelle Obama's mom watching the motorcade from the parade viewing booth. What she has witnessed in her lifetime and now she literally has a front row seat to this new dawn. I would love to read her memoir.
We also had our offer accepted on a new house for us. I am scared and anxious and cautiously excited. Inspections are on Monday.
Here's Hoping!
Katie and Carter were up so early as well. They were dressed with shoes on and hair fixed by 8am even though their school doesn't start until 8:45.
My plan was to be there as soon as the door opened, drop them off and zoom home just in time to see Obama take the oath of office. I didn't make it. I just couldn't take my eyes off the television so my husband took the girls to school today. He walked in the door just as Obama was finished with the oath.
I was upstairs, blinds closed to eliminate glare on the TV screen, watching intently in my softest pajamas and Ugg Boots. I am so proud of our new President. I am proud that our country is represented by such an intelligent, capable, successful, inspiring human being. He is sensitive, compassionate, inclusive, tough and resolved to make our country a better place in every way.
When he said what he said about bringing science back to the forefront, my tears started. I just feel like my soul has been in a frozen winter the past eight years and finally finally we can see some sunlight. I hope we are not too far frozen.
I hope my girls remember this day, when they were three and Barack Obama became our 44th president. It means nothing to them now, but I hope it will mean everything for their lifetime. I hope it will signify the time when our country righted its course and everything started to get back on track. To come back to life again.
I cried again when I saw Michelle Obama's mom watching the motorcade from the parade viewing booth. What she has witnessed in her lifetime and now she literally has a front row seat to this new dawn. I would love to read her memoir.
We also had our offer accepted on a new house for us. I am scared and anxious and cautiously excited. Inspections are on Monday.
Here's Hoping!
Thursday, January 15, 2009
This and That
My sister Claire called me to tell me she just got done with a book I recommended to her and she liked it. It was so nice to get a call from her and hear her voice. Pleasant surprise.
It is in the high sixties here today and the Today show is showing all these other parts of the country that are battling dangerous cold. Chicago is 20 below with windchill and they are showing segments on the danger of frost-bite. When I lived in Providence and commuted to my office in Boston I had several days with the windchill making it feel like 9 degrees. Well, that's what the news said it felt like. To me it felt like ninety below.
My tears froze in the corner of my eyes like icicle daggers dragging across the surface of my eyeballs. I wrapped my scarf around my face and upper nose and still felt my nose hairs freeze together. I would walk the 6 blocks from the train station to the office and walk an extra 100 feet to the Starbucks across the street to get a coffee and a slice of pumpkin bread or a blueberry scone. I was trying to pack on the fat so that I had extra insulation by the time I had to walk home. I crossed the street to my building and opened the door only to be assaulted by 80 degree heat blowing in my already shredded eyes. I would walk up the stairs and go straight to the ladies room where I would remove 3 of the 4 layers of my clothing and then schlep my wardrobe, my coffee and my laptop bag into my office. What a routine.
I bring this up because on those days especially I would be homesick for California, the state where I spent all but 5 years of my life. I would call home to hear my mother's voice and would describe to her my Odyssean journey into work. She would listen and say, "Hmm. It's 69 here right now and I'm a little chilly in my shorts, but I had to switch to the shade because I was getting a sunburn." I love my mother, but she can be so cruel.
Today I feel just as cruel. I came back in the house before taking my dog for a walk so I could take off my sweatshirt and find my sunglasses. I hereby apologize to all the people in Chicago and Fargo and Providence for the fact that I am lucky enough to be back in California. "Sar-hee."
Something only my immediate family would understand: Songs playing on my iPod while I did five minutes on the rowing machine. Raspberry Beret, Alice is Wild, Nomads Indian Saints. The time flew by even if I can no longer lift my children.
It is in the high sixties here today and the Today show is showing all these other parts of the country that are battling dangerous cold. Chicago is 20 below with windchill and they are showing segments on the danger of frost-bite. When I lived in Providence and commuted to my office in Boston I had several days with the windchill making it feel like 9 degrees. Well, that's what the news said it felt like. To me it felt like ninety below.
My tears froze in the corner of my eyes like icicle daggers dragging across the surface of my eyeballs. I wrapped my scarf around my face and upper nose and still felt my nose hairs freeze together. I would walk the 6 blocks from the train station to the office and walk an extra 100 feet to the Starbucks across the street to get a coffee and a slice of pumpkin bread or a blueberry scone. I was trying to pack on the fat so that I had extra insulation by the time I had to walk home. I crossed the street to my building and opened the door only to be assaulted by 80 degree heat blowing in my already shredded eyes. I would walk up the stairs and go straight to the ladies room where I would remove 3 of the 4 layers of my clothing and then schlep my wardrobe, my coffee and my laptop bag into my office. What a routine.
I bring this up because on those days especially I would be homesick for California, the state where I spent all but 5 years of my life. I would call home to hear my mother's voice and would describe to her my Odyssean journey into work. She would listen and say, "Hmm. It's 69 here right now and I'm a little chilly in my shorts, but I had to switch to the shade because I was getting a sunburn." I love my mother, but she can be so cruel.
Today I feel just as cruel. I came back in the house before taking my dog for a walk so I could take off my sweatshirt and find my sunglasses. I hereby apologize to all the people in Chicago and Fargo and Providence for the fact that I am lucky enough to be back in California. "Sar-hee."
Something only my immediate family would understand: Songs playing on my iPod while I did five minutes on the rowing machine. Raspberry Beret, Alice is Wild, Nomads Indian Saints. The time flew by even if I can no longer lift my children.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Princess Stresses
My girls have hit the princess phase.
I think it started at preschool with the dress-up box. The obsession was nurtured by a vacation trip to Target with their grandmother where they selected Snow White and Belle barbies as a toy treat. These dolls they liked and played with, but they also played with lots of other, less royal, less Disney themed dolls. But then they saw Snow White (the movie) and there was all kinds of pretend play about poison apples and mean witches and who is the fairest of them all. It then hit obsession.
They selected some non-Disney neutral princess figurines from the toy store when their grandmother visited for their birthday. We figured non-specific princesses were better than the Disney marketing machine. Better for imaginations, better for self-esteem. Neutral princesses don’t necessarily need Prince Charming to come rescue them and help them live happily ever after. Maybe neutral princesses run the kingdom all on their own, governing with a just and intelligent authority. Maybe they don’t need a man with a cape and folded leather boots to save their lives with a kiss. Maybe they are not all white skinned, blue-eyed beauties with puffy sleeves and cleavage and a 10 inch waist.
I had a conversation with my friends about the obsession and the consensus was it wasn’t that bad and the Disney princesses give their daughters so much joy that it is worth it to see the smiles on their faces as they dress up. There was question about the impact of a talking princess camera that states, “You’re as pretty as a princess” when you push the button. As if that is something all should strive to be.
Santa brought a treasure box with three neutral (non-Disney) princess dresses and accessories, including soft slippers. My girls put them on and wore them for 5 days straight. One got puked on and had scarcely dried from the quick rinse before it was being worn again. Whenever the suggestion of removing the dresses was made, tantrums commenced and all was not well in the kingdom.
Daily plans were made by my newly three year olds for when they were really really good and would get a Snow White dress as a special treat. (All their invention- I never offered this). I saw one on big sale at Wal Mart and caved. I saved it for when they earned it with 5 stickers, but still- I purchased a Disney-themed princess dress (okay I purchased two of them- Cinderella was 50% off as well). The rules are that they can’t wear them outside the house, can’t wear them while sleeping, and cannot cry when we take them off. If they do, they can’t wear them the next day.
Two days ago there was a tantrum for the ages when it was time to take off the Snow White dress. It lasted an hour and a half. While my eardrums were ringing from the screaming I was cursing the whole idea of it all. That some very lucky girls have it all- the dresses, the looks, the perfect house, the perfect man, witty sidekicks to listen to all their problems and tell them the right thing to do, then to go get help when they follow their heart and do the wrong thing in the name of love, fairy godmothers to protect them, knowing and harmonizing animal friends to help you with your chores, and flawless bodies that can easily be carried to safety or swept off their feet in a passionate embrace. And at three, my daughters already want that for themselves. They believe when they put on those dresses and the god forsaken plastic high heels that make them walk wobbly and will surely sprain an ankle, that they are those princesses. I just hope that the real life realization that life and love are not fairy tales doesn’t hurt them too much. Or that they don’t waste too much of their creativity and energy pursuing an impossible ideal that sprouted in their minds at this tender age of three. I wish I could protect them from the let down.
They have already asked me to be Ursula the mean sea witch in their pretend play. How much longer until they are calling me that out of anger?
I was fine with the dinosaur obsession
and the Miss Viola Swamp/Miss Nelson obsession, but why is this princess obsession a thorn in my side?
I think it started at preschool with the dress-up box. The obsession was nurtured by a vacation trip to Target with their grandmother where they selected Snow White and Belle barbies as a toy treat. These dolls they liked and played with, but they also played with lots of other, less royal, less Disney themed dolls. But then they saw Snow White (the movie) and there was all kinds of pretend play about poison apples and mean witches and who is the fairest of them all. It then hit obsession.
They selected some non-Disney neutral princess figurines from the toy store when their grandmother visited for their birthday. We figured non-specific princesses were better than the Disney marketing machine. Better for imaginations, better for self-esteem. Neutral princesses don’t necessarily need Prince Charming to come rescue them and help them live happily ever after. Maybe neutral princesses run the kingdom all on their own, governing with a just and intelligent authority. Maybe they don’t need a man with a cape and folded leather boots to save their lives with a kiss. Maybe they are not all white skinned, blue-eyed beauties with puffy sleeves and cleavage and a 10 inch waist.
I had a conversation with my friends about the obsession and the consensus was it wasn’t that bad and the Disney princesses give their daughters so much joy that it is worth it to see the smiles on their faces as they dress up. There was question about the impact of a talking princess camera that states, “You’re as pretty as a princess” when you push the button. As if that is something all should strive to be.
Santa brought a treasure box with three neutral (non-Disney) princess dresses and accessories, including soft slippers. My girls put them on and wore them for 5 days straight. One got puked on and had scarcely dried from the quick rinse before it was being worn again. Whenever the suggestion of removing the dresses was made, tantrums commenced and all was not well in the kingdom.
Daily plans were made by my newly three year olds for when they were really really good and would get a Snow White dress as a special treat. (All their invention- I never offered this). I saw one on big sale at Wal Mart and caved. I saved it for when they earned it with 5 stickers, but still- I purchased a Disney-themed princess dress (okay I purchased two of them- Cinderella was 50% off as well). The rules are that they can’t wear them outside the house, can’t wear them while sleeping, and cannot cry when we take them off. If they do, they can’t wear them the next day.
Two days ago there was a tantrum for the ages when it was time to take off the Snow White dress. It lasted an hour and a half. While my eardrums were ringing from the screaming I was cursing the whole idea of it all. That some very lucky girls have it all- the dresses, the looks, the perfect house, the perfect man, witty sidekicks to listen to all their problems and tell them the right thing to do, then to go get help when they follow their heart and do the wrong thing in the name of love, fairy godmothers to protect them, knowing and harmonizing animal friends to help you with your chores, and flawless bodies that can easily be carried to safety or swept off their feet in a passionate embrace. And at three, my daughters already want that for themselves. They believe when they put on those dresses and the god forsaken plastic high heels that make them walk wobbly and will surely sprain an ankle, that they are those princesses. I just hope that the real life realization that life and love are not fairy tales doesn’t hurt them too much. Or that they don’t waste too much of their creativity and energy pursuing an impossible ideal that sprouted in their minds at this tender age of three. I wish I could protect them from the let down.
They have already asked me to be Ursula the mean sea witch in their pretend play. How much longer until they are calling me that out of anger?
I was fine with the dinosaur obsession
and the Miss Viola Swamp/Miss Nelson obsession, but why is this princess obsession a thorn in my side?
Busy Week
I have started writing a couple posts when I have five minutes to sit down, but have not finished any of them. This past week we:
- Went to a third birthday party for some of our favorite twin friends. It was at a little gym place with tumbling mats and a ball pit and the girls really got into it. They joined in all the little circle time games and sang along to the songs. They really know how birthday parties are supposed to go now.
- Have been trying to find a loan and interest rates to make a second offer on a house.I may have to post separately about this later.
- Endured a hellish trip to a very overcrowded Academy of Sciences where I almost got into fisticuffs with the mean parking attendant, the girls did not want to share with other kids in the play area, and did not eat more than 2 bites of a $20 lunch.
- Wednesday David left and Katie and Carter had a marathon tantrum. The worst of their lives. After 35 minutes of having them scream in my ears while I was trying to calm them, I just started videotaping it. I may post it on here later if I can teach myself how. Toward the end of the tantrum they were screaming, “I don’t want to cry anymore, I just want to be good.”
- Got a privilege taken away for the first time! They are earning back the right to wear their princess dresses.
- Delivered cookies to a friend in the hospital who just had twins and two meals and pumpkin bread to a friend who just had her third- a singleton after twins. It feels good to do this for other people since it has been a while since I have been able to help anyone other than myself
- Put away all the Christmas decorations and addressed the last of our holiday cards.
- Cleaned the house and cooked and froze many meals.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Chocolate Martyr
I once made a New Year’s Resolution to go a year without chocolate. I decided to do this because I heard a local radio personality say he didn’t make resolutions like that because they are impossible. I decided to prove him wrong.
I was 14 and LOVED chocolate. I now cringe at how much attention I called to myself every time I was in a situation where chocolate was involved and I explained in detail why I wasn’t having any. What a martyr I was.
In August of that year, at tennis camp, my friend inadvertently fed me a chocolate flavored Jelly Belly when I was blindfolded and we were doing a taste test. I spit it out as soon as I tasted the forbidden flavor and we all agreed that I hadn’t broken my resolution because there was no actual chocolate in the Jelly Belly.
At the end of the year I was about 5 pounds lighter. It was such a non-event when the year ended and I ate chocolate again. I wish I had a great story about THE chocolate I broke my sanction with. I can’t even remember what it was! So much for that year! What a waste!
Now I try to make meaningful, productive, positive resolutions. Here are mine for this year:
I was 14 and LOVED chocolate. I now cringe at how much attention I called to myself every time I was in a situation where chocolate was involved and I explained in detail why I wasn’t having any. What a martyr I was.
In August of that year, at tennis camp, my friend inadvertently fed me a chocolate flavored Jelly Belly when I was blindfolded and we were doing a taste test. I spit it out as soon as I tasted the forbidden flavor and we all agreed that I hadn’t broken my resolution because there was no actual chocolate in the Jelly Belly.
At the end of the year I was about 5 pounds lighter. It was such a non-event when the year ended and I ate chocolate again. I wish I had a great story about THE chocolate I broke my sanction with. I can’t even remember what it was! So much for that year! What a waste!
Now I try to make meaningful, productive, positive resolutions. Here are mine for this year:
- To take time each day to notice the day, how it’s going and cherish it instead of letting it pass me by in my busy-ness
- To enroll my daughters in movement classes like gymnastics or yoga or ballet
- To use fewer paper and plastic products. My sisters gave me some cloth napkins and some home-made cloth farmer’s market bags for Christmas that will help me with this one. Maybe the ShamWow my husband and I gave each other for Christmas will also help with paper towel waste!
- To learn more about green detergents and cleaners and find brands that do the job well and don’t ruin the earth
- To stay in shape and exercise the dog more
- To try one new recipe a month
- To stay on top of the news
- To write thank you notes faster!
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Happy New Year!
I am trying not to put too much pressure on myself to come up with the perfect inaugural blog post for my first ever blog.
My mom already put a lot of pressure on herself trying to come up with the perfect name for the blog she wanted to give me as a gift. She did all the research for me on how to start a blog and register the name and was going to do it all for me so I could just start. It seems she asked a lot of people what the name should be. There is nothing like finding out about the extremes of your personality through suggested names for your blog.
The trouble with all of them is committing to putting one part of your personality front and center. But, I have been a lifelong list maker, enduring the ridicule of my family and close friends and even husband for the abundance and length of my lists so “Life Off the List” seemed appropo. “Living La Vida Local” a nod to my passion for eating and buying locally was taken by someone in 2006 who still hasn’t written anything on their blog that was supposed to be about a trip to Spain. “Crazy with Twins” is appropriate, but a given at this point, and any reference to my dog, a whippet, would overemphasize my affection for whippets other than Jax. So here it is, Life off the List. Welcome!
Let’s start with a list:
To Do:
Okay, okay, you get the idea! And I feel a little more organized. I think I like this blog!
It is a brand new year and we have a lot to be thankful for. I just had a great visit with my family in San Diego. While there never seems to be enough time to know everything about everyone again and get to do all the things that each of us dreamed we would do while together, I think we got enough restful time together so that our visit didn’t leave us feeling drained or depleted. And we found time to:
All this while feeding three three-year-olds three meals a day and getting them down for naps and bedtime. We are finally able to do lots of fun things with 3 kids and still have fun ourselves!
The drive back to San Francisco took 13 hours. I was dizzy and disoriented when we emerged from the car, but the girls got to bed okay and I got the best news when I checked my email. I woke up feeling refreshed on this first day of 2009.
Here’s to a new year, a new blog and every day new reasons to feel grateful.
My mom already put a lot of pressure on herself trying to come up with the perfect name for the blog she wanted to give me as a gift. She did all the research for me on how to start a blog and register the name and was going to do it all for me so I could just start. It seems she asked a lot of people what the name should be. There is nothing like finding out about the extremes of your personality through suggested names for your blog.
The trouble with all of them is committing to putting one part of your personality front and center. But, I have been a lifelong list maker, enduring the ridicule of my family and close friends and even husband for the abundance and length of my lists so “Life Off the List” seemed appropo. “Living La Vida Local” a nod to my passion for eating and buying locally was taken by someone in 2006 who still hasn’t written anything on their blog that was supposed to be about a trip to Spain. “Crazy with Twins” is appropriate, but a given at this point, and any reference to my dog, a whippet, would overemphasize my affection for whippets other than Jax. So here it is, Life off the List. Welcome!
Let’s start with a list:
To Do:
- Watch the Rose Bowl (has it really been 9 years since Stanford was in it?)
- Unload the car from our road-trip home from Christmas in San Diego
- Unpack and put everything away- find places for all the new stuff in our already crammed apartment
- Take down the holiday decorations, including the Christmas Tree
- Finish sending Holiday cards. Find remaining addresses/Address/Stamp/Send
- Restock the fridge
- Figure out what we are going to have for dinner based on what I have in the freezer from the summer farmer’s market veggies
- Finish thank-you notes from the girls’ birthday (gulp- December 14) and Christmas, including one to David’s Ancient Art professor from college who sent us gifts for the girls and copies of ancient examples of poses that our Christmas picture reminded her of. She is a rock star! Love her!
- Locate my calendar and figure out what we have to do for the next week
- Confirm the meeting room availability for the San Francisco Parents Of Multiples New and Expectant Parent Group Meetings that I facilitate.
- Coordinate drop-off of a New Parent Meal for a new mom of twins in our area
- SFPOM Board Summary
- Post photos and videos from Christmas
- Back up my computer
Okay, okay, you get the idea! And I feel a little more organized. I think I like this blog!
It is a brand new year and we have a lot to be thankful for. I just had a great visit with my family in San Diego. While there never seems to be enough time to know everything about everyone again and get to do all the things that each of us dreamed we would do while together, I think we got enough restful time together so that our visit didn’t leave us feeling drained or depleted. And we found time to:
- Make a ton of cookies and drop them off at the Scripps Ranch fire station (Great idea mom)
- To go to the family service at church- something I have loved doing since I was a kid (so fun to take my own kids and niece and see it through their eyes)
- To see my angels' faces as they noticed the Santa gifts left for them (they really believe they ARE princesses when they wear the dress-up dresses and shoes)
- Open up all our presents (we always say it is going to be a modest Christmas. It never is)
- Complete the traditional treasure hunt written by my dad (tradition started by his dad)
- Host a party the day after Christmas (we made multiple soups including White Chili which I need to get the recipe for)
- See old friends and their children!
- Recover from a day of vomit (third Christmas in a row that included a day of vomit)
- Take our family Christmas picture (always a monumental task)
- Play 3 different board games
- Have a dance party in the garage playground my parents set up (If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it...)
- Go to the park and have a picnic, and
- Put together a 1000 piece puzzle!
All this while feeding three three-year-olds three meals a day and getting them down for naps and bedtime. We are finally able to do lots of fun things with 3 kids and still have fun ourselves!
The drive back to San Francisco took 13 hours. I was dizzy and disoriented when we emerged from the car, but the girls got to bed okay and I got the best news when I checked my email. I woke up feeling refreshed on this first day of 2009.
Here’s to a new year, a new blog and every day new reasons to feel grateful.
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