The Amazing Trips

good times

2009-07-11T11:45:00.000-07:00

I'm going to scatter throughout this post some pictures that I took during our Fourth of July celebration last week. Because these photos are presented in no particular order, I'll just interject here that we started the day off with a Pancake Breakfast at our local firehouse.

Then we went to a parade on Coronado Island. Then we went to the beach where a nearly-horizontal Charlie pushed a stroller loaded with three children across 1,000 feet of sand while people stopped to stare. And me, being the supportive wife that I am, laughed and took pictures while holding the baby and a beach umbrella (no, I wasn't entirely empty handed).

Then we went out for lunch. Then we came home and baked Henry's birthday cake and prepared for a party with friends. Then we went to a party with friends at a local park where there was a lot of eating and drinking and merriment and parachuters that held American flags while they fell from the sky.

There were lots of fireworks. And there were lots of children who stayed up four hours past their bedtime chasing beach balls through pitch black fields with a plastic bat. We had an awesome day. And no surprise, the kids slept in until 9:00 AM on Sunday. Which before children, really was no big deal. But post-children, is the equivalent of sleeping in until 2:00 PM.

Now, for the four men that read my blog, please look away.

There's nothing more here for you to read.

Ladies, as I've mentioned, I haven't yet weaned Henry.

I'll write more about that later, but for the purpose of this post, I think it's just important to note that I am a nursing mother. And up until a few months ago, I had been reaping one of the "monthly benefits" that many breastfeeding mothers enjoy.

But once I stopped reaping that particular benefit, I gradually noticed a change in my demeanor.

For approximately 24 days out of the month, I was happy and had an optimism about life. But for three or four days, leading up to the commencement of the event, I would dissolve in to something that was unrecognizable.

I would become weepy, irrational, overly reflective, and distressed to the point of panic.

It made no sense to me.

This had never happened before.

What was going on?

Although this might come as a shock, I had never once considered that my behavior was in any way related to hormonal fluctuations. I have always thought that women who attributed their crabbiness, food cravings and dermatological variances to "the time of the month" were full of bologna.

My general opinion was that PMS had morphed in to the biggest "Why-I-Can-Act-Like-A-Psycho-And-Get-Away-With-It" scape goat, ever.

But recently, because I couldn't understand what was happening with my own self, I started jotting some notes in my calendar. And today, sweet beejezhus, I see a definitive trend.

HELP! I AM FALLING OFF THE BALANCE BEAM OF LIFE!

This post.

And this post.

And this post.

And this post ?

And this one!

There's a pattern. I am one of those women. And until I can get this resolved, either through acupuncture, meditation, weaning, diet, or perhaps a three-day medically induced coma ... I plan to take a break from blogging about my life for a few days each month. Maybe I'll just post pictures and tips on how to ~~BOOHOO, why am I crying?!~~ remove sand from toes at the beach (baby powder). Because really, there's no need to warn all of you that OH GOD the sky is falling.

I'm hopeful that someone out there is thanking me for this post.

So, you're very welcome.

Now please send over some hot fudge.

eyes on the horizon

2009-07-10T23:45:00.000-07:00

I went to my first gymnastics class tonight. Which was more like an open gym for adults who wanted to come and play on the various equipment. Coach Jack, who coaches the boys team - and happens to be William's instructor - coordinates the Friday night work out and recognized me when I first walked in. He introduced me to the one other "mom" that was there, a woman by the name of Deborah, who has a daughter on the gymnastics team.

Within seconds, it occurred to me that I was the least-in-shape person there.

On one side of the gym, there were women in their 20's doing front flips over a vault. On the other side of the gym, there were men in their 30's doing tumbling passes that defied the law of gravity. Coach Jack jumped up on the pommel horse and my new friend Deborah was doing back walkovers on the beam.

And then there was me.

Thirty six inches off the ground, clutching the beam with my toes, and cautiously doing a dip step. Coach Jack kept repeating, "Keep your eyes HIGH. Don't look down or you'll lose your balance and fall."

(Notice the purple toenails that have yet to fall off.)

I tried the bars.

With the baby ramp on the bottom.

And yet, I still couldn't get myself over without assistance.

I definitely have work to do. But Coach Jack says I'm close. Although, that could be, "Close to throwing your entire body out of alignment and breaking a limb."

But next Friday night?

I'll be back.

******

Totally unrelated, this is a picture of William wearing his new uniform which consists of a baseball hat, sunglasses and a lone strand of beads. He'll randomly give the peace sign and tell people, "I'm a ROCK STAR."

This has been a hectic week for us, with busy work schedules and me trying to wrap up loose ends before I depart on a business trip, next week. So today, when Charlie and I were arranging our schedules - and I was feeling (very) flustered with our lack of time - I overheard William whisper to my husband, "Dad, it sounds like Mom is getting a little fwustwated. Whatever you do, don't look her in the eyes."

It really cracked me up to hear him say that, but it also bummed me out.

It feels like I've been under a lot of pressure and I've had less patience than I had before. This could be a function of work. Or, it could be a function of having three four-year-olds and a two-year-old. Who are very adorable. And also, at times, very challenging. Perhaps it's a combination of everything at varying proportions.

But whatever the case, this week - in particular - has been tough.

I feel like I've been looking down a lot. I've been getting bogged in the minutiae and losing my balance. As a result, I've taken a few hard falls off the beam of life. Sure, I'll get up and keep going, but the image that I had of myself as a patient and compassionate parent (and spouse) is feeling pretty bruised.

Why, I like to think that the reason Carolyn has added a string of Rosary Beads to her everyday attire, is because she wants to be closer to God.

And not because she's looking for heavenly protection from her crazy mother.

(Who is so, so, so thankful she didn't wear her leotard to gymnastics, tonight. Maybe next week. Or never.)

what's in you wednesday

2009-07-08T23:21:00.000-07:00

Did I mention our computer crashed again and it has been in the shop?

Well it did.

And it is.

So the reason I haven't been updating my blog for the past few days isn't because I have run out of things to write about ... like that could ever happen. Unfortunately, because I'm limited with what I can do with my laptop, I can't post any photos until my Macintosh is returned to us. Which, was supposed to be yesterday, but now might not be until sometime next week. And for what it's worth ... it physically pains me that I may not be able to post photos of our children from the Fourth ... until the Fourteenth.

For those curious how the kids handled their 5:00 PM bedtime on Monday night, I'd say they handled it quite well. Probably because they realized that if they so much as moved, I'd climb out of my skin. Of course none of them fell asleep until almost 9:00 PM, but they laid in bed and didn't make a peep. They definitely sensed mom was freaky.

In other news. As I'm writing this post, my husband is watching a Bender Ball video. Charlie came home with the Bender Ball a few weeks ago - and initially - I was quite annoyed that he spent $20.00 for a small rubber ball that he could have bought at Target for $2.00.

(Or, I see he could have purchased online for $9.99. Plus S&H.)

But Charlie convinced me that this was a high-end exercise ball that came with an instructional video, and this "program" would help strengthen his core muscles and subsequently, his lower back. Yet for the past several weeks, our children have been playing with Charlie's $20.00 Bender Ball, that he hadn't used. So tonight, after we both consumed hot fudge sundaes, Charlie broke out his Bender Ball and the instructional video that came with it. When he first turned on the video, he saw three middle-aged women and he asked, "Oh great. What's this? Is this a video for chicks or what??"

It's now been less than two minutes since the instruction started, and my husband is in agony.

Here I sit laughing.

But I'll bet Charlie will be laughing at me come Friday night. Because it seems that yesterday, when I was at my children's preschool gymnastics class, I started talking with the headcoach about how I have lost a lot of my upper body strength and flexibility. So she suggested that I join the "adults" gymnastics class that is scheduled to begin on Friday night.

And ... I did.

Beginning this Friday, I'll be taking a gymnastics class, alongside what I assume will be a number of women who are anxious to prove to themselves that they've still got it.

So help me, I will get myself in the kind of shape that is necessary to do a flip over on the bars (or rings) again. I might even re-learn how to do a back handspring. I'm so excited that tomorrow, I'm going shopping for a new leotard.

But thankfully, it's not looking good that I'll be able to to post photographic evidence on my blog.

the mother of all meltdowns

2009-07-06T22:36:00.000-07:00

Today, I worked for several hours in the morning before Charlie headed in to his office in the afternoon. But all morning, while I worked, I was thinking about the fun things I wanted to do with the kids. When Charlie and I finally traded off, I sat reading stories for about an hour before I implemented a new "Reward" chart that I had formulated.

Our children, for the most part, are very good. But there are three of them at the exact same age. And quite honestly, the challenges of having three children, the exact same age, can not be fully understood and appreciated unless you experience it.

All day.

Every day.

The theory behind my reward chart is that it will serve as a means of encouraging positive behavior. When I catch the kids being helpful, kind, polite or listening - they will get a star. At the end of the day, whoever has the most stars, will be "Leader" for the following day. Now the role of "Leader" is coveted because it is the leader that gets first dibs to help me on big activities such as cracking eggs for breakfast - pouring detergent in the washer - or putting mail in the mailbox. And at the end of the week, whoever had been the Leader the most times during that week, would have a special day with either Charlie or I, where we would take them out for lunch. Or a matinee. Or something fun to celebrate their good behavior.

Today, once I finished the chart and reviewed it with the children - I tried to test it's effectiveness. I told everyone to put on their shoes and within two minutes, all three of them had put on their shoes - after having been told only once - and they had also fetched Henry's shoes for me to put on his feet.

I was thrilled and could instantly envision world peace and a Reward Chart for Korea.

Everyone climbed in to the car and buckled themselves in to their carseats while I loaded Henry. We set off for REI where I had intended to buy some new shoes for Carolyn who is going through yet another growth spurt and has shot up more than three-inches in the past six months. The kids do fairly well in REI. Minus an event where they hid themselves in a clothes rack and almost flipped it over. And the small scale fight that broke out when Elizabeth pushed the up button on the elevator, and then held her hand over it so no one else could take a turn.

We left REI and we go to the car. The kids buckle themselves in to their carseats while I load Henry. In the backseat, Carolyn and Elizabeth are fighting over my water bottle. Carolyn has already consumed more than 1/2 the water in the bottle - and Elizabeth now wants to take a sip. Carolyn won't give her the bottle. Elizabeth is flipping out. I remind the kids of the Reward Chart and Carolyn passes the water bottle to her sister - but her sister hasn't had the bottle to her lips for more than a second - when Carolyn throws a conniption fit that Elizabeth is going to DRINK! IT! ALL!

Followed by a full body convulsion, with arms flailing, legs kicking, head slamming in to the carseat. I summon calm and tell Carolyn to take a breath. Then I tell Elizabeth that once I finish loading the stroller in to the car, she needs to give Carolyn another sip. Another 30 seconds lapse and the stroller is loaded. I walk around to the side of the car and tell Elizabeth that she needs to give her sister the water bottle. Carolyn, at this point, has resumed her conniption fit SHE'S DRINKING IT ALL! SHE'S DRINKING IT ALL!

And Elizabeth.

Elizabeth just sat with the water bottle to her lips and continued to sip. And sip. And sip. And her eyes gleamed and sparkled and I could just see that in her four-year-old mind, she was teasing Carolyn, "I'm DRINKING IT ALL!" and to me, she was taunting, "YOU CAN'T STOP ME!" So I climbed over the back seat, popped her on the leg, snatched the water bottle away and flipped it at Carolyn while yelling something in Vietnamese.

I'm flushed and angry.

Why can't they just act CIVIL?!

Reward Charts are CRAP!

William, meanwhile - who sensed all this was going on directly behind him - in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere asks me, "Hey MOM! Why did the chicken cross the road?!"

"I don't know!" I answered. "I'm going to guess to get away from her baby chickens?!

We then drive to the local duck pond where our plan was to feed the ... you guessed it ... ducks. I'd post pictures of this outing, except my Macintosh has crashed for the second time in two months and is in the shop.

The whole way to the duck pond - all three miles of it - I ranted from the driver seat, "YOU KIDS NEED TO BE KIND! YOU NEED TO BE RESPECTFUL! YOU NEED TO LISTEN! It is entirely up to you. Do you want to have a GOOD day or do you want to have a BAD day? Because when you act NICELY - you will have a NICE day. When you act UGLY - you will have an UGLY day. Do I make myself clear?!"

Then I repeated that same exact spiel at least four more times. Because there's nothing like kicking a dead horse repeatedly. repeatedly.

So we get to the duck pond. The kids are doing well for the first 3/4 of the walk around the pond. And then, someone sticks their hands in to what they thought was mud - but turned out to be duck poop - and then tries to rub their poop coated hands all over their sibling who was wearing a WHITE shirt. While someone else climbed a tree and broke off a small branch, which they then swung around their head, hitting random objects, including me. And someone else, jumped in to what they thought was a puddle, but turned out to be a small sinkhole that engulfed them to their knees in muck.

Then the baby started howling.

I'm trying to find the joy as I clean everyone up and load them in to the car for a final stop by Trader Joe's on our way home. It is critical that we stop for popsicles. And lemonade. And fresh fruit. And milk. Once we arrive in the parking lot, I run through the rules before we enter the store. There is to be No Pushing, No Hitting, No Yelling, No Running.

We go in to the store and someone promptly begins constructing a tower out of canteloupes. Someone sticks their finger through a cellophane wrapped package of portobello mushrooms and someone else runs headlong in to a grapefruit display.

(And to whomever it was that wrote me a note last week asking if I make this stuff up for an interesting read ... I will tell you that NO, I DO NOT. Triplet mothers, please chime in, here.)

I'm done with all of our shopping in less than four minutes. On our way out to the car, the kids grab uninflated balloons from the basket next to the door. And before I can stop them, they bring them to their lips and try to inflate. Because our saliva is now all over the balloons, I let them keep them, which goes against almost everything that I believe. Because although balloons are a wonderful toy for most children - very rarely have balloons been anything but a nightmare for my trio. The fighting. The popping. The subsequent confiscation of balloons that were originally not yours. Etcetera. Etcetera.

I blow up the balloons. We get in the car. We drive home. The balloons are blowing around the inside of the car and the kids are all upset because their balloons are on the floor. We arrive home and when I open the side doors to the van, two of the balloons blow out and take off tumbling down the street.

The kids go crazy with hysteria, so me - being the awesome mom that I am - take off running after the balloons and save the day.

Once I catch them - I bring all the balloons inside the house. Then I deposit the groceries by the front door. Then, I bring in the kids, who had been securely strapped in their carseats. Then, I tell the kids to go outside and play in the backyard while I put away the refrigerated items. The kids go in the backyard and promptly knock each other's balloons over the fence, then they come in the house to tell me that they want me to run down the street and get their balloons. That's when I notice that in the two minutes they were outside, Henry has successfully removed every stitch of his clothing.

I tell the kids no, that's what happens when they knock balloons over the fence, and then I set about spraying the baby's bottom with sunscreen.

Just then, Charlie calls.

I'm feeling a little frayed and I want to talk freely. So I go in to the laundry room and while I'm transferring a load from the washer to the drier, I hear the front door close. The front door. That leads to the street. A very busy corner street, where I have seen cars bank the curve at 25 miles per hour. The front door that has a dead bolt and a latch up high to keep small children IN.

While my husband is still on the line, I run out of the laundry room and in to the front of the house - which is less than 10 feet away (because we live in a box) and I see that Elizabeth is sheepishly holding her balloon. While William and Carolyn are staring at her, bug-eyed.

I have a monumental flip out because it is clear that she OPENED the front door and went outside of our house and walked along the street to get her balloon. And if I wasn't scared enough about cars driven by teenagers that go flying up and down our street, oblivious to anyone and anything, I was scared about the convicted pedophile who lives six doors down. Or ... the people who have never been convicted of a crime against children, but are waiting for the opportunity to strike. And the people who come across the border, kidnap children, and bring them back to Mexico where they hold them for ransom.

BECAUSE I THINK THAT WAY.

The kids know this. I tell them all the time that they can't go outside without me. They know that they can't open the front door for strangers (which they have done) and they absolutely can't wander off our property. I lose my cool and I dig in to a defiant Elizabeth for opening the door and going outside without me. For the next two or three minutes I alternate yelling from one child to the next.

WHAT IF SOMETHING HAPPENED?!

WHY DIDN'T SOMEONE TELL ME?!

And right about then, it was as though someone whispered in my ear...

"Henry."

I screamed at the kids, "Where's the BABY?!" but they were hiding under their pillows and didn't even respond. So I ran out in the backyard to see if he was there, but before I completed a full scan or looked in to all of his favorite hideouts, I sprinted to the front door and dashed out to the front yard.

He was no where to be seen.

I ran around the side of our house, the side that borders one of the busiest streets in our immediate neighborhood, and standing 100 feet down our property line - in the nude - was the baby, picking up rocks and throwing them on the road. I ran down and grabbed him - and the whole 100 feet back to the house - I kept thinking that I needed to breathe and decompress because I was on the tippity tip verge of losing complete control.

A few years ago, someone told me that if I can get through a day and my children are all still alive, the day has been a success. So when I got back to the house - I made the decision that the triplets would be immediately put in to their pajamas and deposited directly in to bed, without dinner. Even though it was only 5:00 PM, I knew that if they were up a MINUTE more, there would be no guarantees how the day would end.

So yay for me.

Today was a success.

two

2009-07-04T00:04:00.000-07:00

Two years ago tonight, early in the morning on July 4, I went to sleep on the couch. Which happened to be, the only place in the entire house where I could get comfortable.

When I woke up a few hours later, I couldn't stand without Charlie's strong arms helping me. And as I stood to walk around, I remember holding on to a wall when my back suddenly went in to a painful muscle spasm. Since I had never been in labor before, it was my mother who clued me in to the fact that I needed to go to the hospital. I had absolutely no idea what was happening and I was afraid.

Would I deliver naturally, as I had hoped, or would I have to have a repeat c-section? There were so many questions. So many fears.

But very quickly, all of my fears subsided and 16 hours after I had uncomfortably fallen asleep on our living room couch, I comfortably fell asleep in a hospital bed. Cradling to my chest, the most beautiful 10-pound newborn I had ever seen.

We didn't know what we would call our newest family member for several days. When his siblings came to meet him for the first time, we queried them.

"How do you like Robert... Robby? What about Edward... Eddie? How about Samuel... Sam? Maybe Sammy?"

But they didn't know any better than we did. They were only two-years-old, and all they wanted to do was climb on me, play with the remote control and telephone, and push random buttons on my hospital bed.

It took us five days to decide on his name.

It came to us, that final hour that we were in the hospital. As Charlie was loading my suitcase and essentials in to the car and confirming with hospital staff that the carseat was installed properly. And I laid in bed, cradling my newborn baby, exactly as I had done for the previous 96 hours. This little miracle child. The one whose life I pray will be filled with good health, laughter, tranquility and peace.

He will be Henry David.

My littlest love.

My firecracker.

My Henry David.

These past two years have been, without a doubt, the most magnificent years of my entire life. That sounds so cliché. So trite.

But I never could have imagined that one single baby could bring so much joy, love and happiness in to a family.

But he has.

And then some.

It has been two years, today, since Henry David has joined our tribe.

It's difficult for me to fathom that my once fragile newborn is now climbing trees. Much to my surprise, he is able to keep up with his older siblings so much better than I anticipated. (or wanted.)

As he continues to grow, I pray that his life will continue to be filled with good health, laughter, tranquility and peace. I pray that he will stay safe. I pray that he always knows how much he was wanted and how much he is loved.

I pray that I will never forget how special these past two years have been for me.

And I hope that he understands that regardless of how big he may grow - or how independent he may become ... he will always be my baby.

Happy Birthday My Sweet, Sweet Love.

favorite thing friday

2009-07-03T10:34:00.000-07:00

There are several styles of kiddie pools on the market and we've owned a lot of them. But this summer, we bought an inflatable pool in the shape of whale.

What attracted me to this pool is that you can hook your hose to the front of it, and water comes out of a spout, like a blowhole.

We've owned this pool for almost a week and every single day, the kids have wanted to play in it. The most fun comes when the water is suddenly cranked on high, water erupts from the blowhole, and everyone rapidly takes cover beneath the whale tail umbrella.

Hey!! Who did that?!

The kids absolutely love this pool.

But I think I enjoy it the most.

We're in the comfort of our own backyard. The kids are safe and they are having a load of fun. Listening to them laugh and joyfully scream is beautiful music to my soul.

Tonight, we skip bath time.

I picked our pool up at Target for $25.00. But if you don't live near a Target - or this particular model isn't stocked in your local stores - you can pick one up on Amazon. See ... look!

It's important for me to note that these photos were taken just before dinner when the sun was setting. Because if it had been earlier in the day, the kids would have been wearing these bathing suits which offer excellent sun protection:

Because I'm all about keeping sensitive skin covered up...

... usually.

it's showtime

2009-07-02T00:15:00.000-07:00

Charlie and I began a subscription to Netflix in mid-May and since that time, we have watched 14 movies. For the past six weeks, we've been averaging at least two movies a week. We haven't watched this many movies since before children ... and I've got to say ... it's been awesome.

My husband is currently watching our 15th movie. I'm not watching this particular movie with him, because I read the book that the movie is based upon a few years ago and the storyline is so disturbing I can't stand to watch the stupidity unfold.

So while Charlie watches this most recent movie - and keeps gasping at the idiocy - I'm going to review the movies that we've watched thus far and provide my opinion on each. Beginning with ...

Man on Wire

This is a documentary that Charlie rented, detailing the story of a man who walked across a high wire connecting the Twin Towers in New York City in 1974. We own the book, "The Man Who Walked Between The Towers" and when I first read this story, I thought for sure it was fiction. It isn't. Someone actually walked on a tightrope between the Twin Towers. This was an interesting movie, even though I fell asleep midway through.

Taken

Sakes alive this is an awesome movie. The scene where Liam Neeson asks the guy to translate, "Good Luck" in Albanian?! I was on my feet CHEERING. Liam is the man. I didn't fall asleep once during this movie. If anything, I laid in bed awake - replaying scene after scene. This is a great movie. A fabulous movie. Although, I must admit, any desire I had to visit France has totally vanished.

Who Killed The Electric Car

This was another documentary that Charlie rented. Moderately interesting. But I fell asleep midway through. Charlie really liked it. He thinks it was fascinating. Charlie is a nut sometimes.

Sicko

Yet another documentary courtesy of my husband. This one was very good and in my opinion, might be one of Michael Moore's best films. I particularly enjoyed the scene when they rented a boat, loaded it up with various patients who are hitting roadblocks with medical treatment in the United States, and floated over to Guantanamo Bay in Cuba. After watching this movie, Charlie wants to restore his Canadian citizenship and move our entire family north.

Death at a Funeral

This movie dabbled in a lot of taboo topics, but it was absolutely hysterical. I laughed so hard, my ab muscles were sore for two days. The scene with the uncle in the bathroom and the dwarf in the casket? I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

There Will Be Blood

I must admit, I actually got up and started to do some work during this movie. It just didn't capture my attention. Charlie liked it. But even he confessed that it realllly dragggged onnnn afffter a whiiiile. The storyline had to do with a greedy, ruthless man drilling an oil well. Since I caught the last bit of the movie, I'm fairly certain that greedy, ruthless man goes to hell after what he did to that nice minister.

Humboldt County

This was a good movie. Very thought provoking. It definitely dabbled in some taboo subjects, but it also made me feel like giving up everything we own and moving to Humboldt. The last scene in the movie had me laughing - but yet - made me feel quite bad for the father. I wonder how long he sat there ... just eating his sandwich?

Milk

This was a great movie. It certainly made me think about my own political views and well ... I sincerely hope that one day everyone will have equal rights. And that's all I have to say about that.

Talladega Nights

Goofy. Funny. Hillbilly humor. Stereotypical Will Ferrell at his finest. The scene with the cougar in the backseat was rip roaring. Although that might be a result of the bottle of wine Charlie and I were sharing.

The Visitor

This was an incredible movie. I absolutely did not want it to end ... or ... I wanted there to be a sequel. Charlie really enjoyed it, too. The title is perfect.

Trainspotting

Very disturbing movie. Some might disagree, but I think the parents in this movie were largely to blame. Talk about ENABLING. And the scene with the baby in the crib?! Unbelievable, although I absolutely saw that coming. Who shoots up heroine with an infant crawling around the house?! Days after I watched this movie, I read that every year, 320,000 babies are born in the United States to drug-addicted mothers. A baby on formula* is one thing.

But a baby on phenobarbital?!

(*Three of our children were supplemented with formula, which was a GOOD thing, lest you think I'm being judgmental.)

Seriously. I watched this movie and all I could think was that people should be screened before they are allowed to reproduce. And if they don't pass the test, they are spayed or neutered on the spot. Men and Women. Bada Bing Bada Boom. Next in line?

The Ultimate Gift

Great movie and the premise is beautiful. But in my opinion, the acting - particularly the role of the grandson (i.e. the main character) - was a little weak at times.

Bigger, Stronger, Faster

Yet another Charlie documentary. This was a very interesting movie. Although I did fall asleep midway through, I woke up in time to see the bull that had been genetically engineered. And well, I kind of wish I hadn't.

E.T. The Extra Terrestrial

Yes, I know this movie was released 27 years ago. But what a classic. I thought the kids might like it and for the first five minutes they really did. Then there was an alien. And men in space suits. And wow - who remembers that this movie is so corny? Ultimately, William and Carolyn were riveted and wanted to watch the entire show. Elizabeth buried her head in to my chest crying, "I don't love E.T.!! I want to watch Cinderella!!"

Which leads me to the 15th movie my husband is watching without me, tonight...

A Simple Plan

Who has read the book A Simple Plan? I read it a few years ago and I couldn't put it down. I was totally captivated by the stupidity. And greed. And stupidity. And greed.

But mostly, stupidity.

Tonight, I tried to watch this movie with my husband. I really did. But I just couldn't bear to watch the scenes unfold - that I knew would unfold - when they tried to cover up their dumb tracks. If Charlie ever came in to the house carrying a bag with $4.4 million dollars in cash that he found while he was out for a walk? I'd be moving so fast to get the police involved, I'd be breaking SOUND barriers. Not for a minute - in any shape or fashion - would I think about how we could keep it.

*******

Since our movie queue is getting dangerously low, now it's your turn.

What do you recommend?

what's in you wednesday

2009-07-01T10:56:00.000-07:00

Foreword: After yesterday's post, my copyright infringement sense has been heightened. I would include the professional photos that were taken of my husband during his race this past weekend, but I now know that all photographs on professional websites are protected by the Copyright Law (at least in the United States). Just as it is illegal to try and reproduce the mall Santa photo that you have taken at Christmas, unless you purchase the CD with the copyright release, it is illegal to download or reproduce ANY images that you did not create, even if you are in the photograph, without permission from the owner. So take note fellow bloggers. I hope at least someone out there is benefitting from the lessons I am learning every day.

*******

Charlie completed his first international-distance triathlon this past weekend with my boss, Dave, and three of my co-workers, who had formed a relay team. In addition, there were two relay teams - formed by six contractors - that provide consulting services for my company. It was a beautiful, albeit warm day and everyone was having a great time.

Until - one of the consultant runners on a relay team suffered extreme heat stroke and fell down just a mile shy of the finish line.

My co-worker, Emily, who was completing the running leg of our relay team, didn't know that the man who was down was one of our colleagues. Until, she ran around to the front of him and leaned down to help. That's when she saw his face and watched his eyes roll to the back of his head as he collapsed. Along with other runners, Emily helped to pull him off the race course in to the shade, and then, she looked around for medical assistance.

None could be found.

So Emily sprinted to find an ambulance. Then she spotted his family along the race course and stopped to tell them what had happened and where he was. Only then, did she run across the finish. And even with all of those stops - and saving a life in the process - her run time was only twelve seconds slower than the runner on the winning relay team.

Our friend was taken to the hospital where it was determined he had a temperature of 105. He was treated and released and had to return to the hospital, later that night, when his temperature spiked again.

As of this writing, he is recovering at home and in disbelief at how close he came to possibly losing his life. When a core body temperature exceeds 105, the results are often fatal. If he hadn't been moved off the course and immediately doused with cold water, there's no telling what might have happened. Considering he is the health and safety officer for his company, I think he realizes that he wasn't properly hydrated and he pushed himself too hard to win.

But. There is already talk about forming teams for a triathlon race that will be taking place in August. And another in September. And October. So I know he will be out running again, soon.

Just like the amputee who had lost his leg from the knee down...

And the woman who had cerebal palsy that completed the entire race even though she required support on the final portion of the course...

Some people cannot be stopped.

What's stopping you?

common sense isn't always so 'common'

2009-06-30T09:02:00.001-07:00

Last week, at random times throughout the day, I started pulling together the driver safety training posts that I had intended to publish, over the course of the day, today. At night, I'd put the finishing touches on each of the posts.

There were a total of seven, in all.

I had included figures from the training manual I had received during my class - photographs of pictures I have received, or taken - and I peppered in a few personal stories to keep it interesting.

Beginning at midnight - and every few hours throughout today - I had planned for these posts to automatically publish. And wow, they looked SO good. Educational and fun to read and laden with good safety information which I hoped would keep all of you safer on the road.

But today, when I logged on and I saw the first two posts in all their glory on the world wide web, it was as if something clicked in my head.

Something didn't seem right.

So I flipped through my training manual ... and right there ... in font size two at the very bottom of the very first page ... it read clear as day, "No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the copyright owner."

DOH.

Double DOH.

How did I miss that?!

So I picked up the phone and I called the copyright owner. And I told them what I wanted to do. As it currently stands, I'm working with the Senior Vice President of Sales & Marketing of Smith System to figure out what I can communicate publicly - without violating their copyright.

See, when I wrote the posts, I wrote them as if I was explaining this stuff to my mother. Or my neighbor. Or someone who was sitting on my couch in my living room sharing a bowl of popcorn. Because that's what you people are to me. You are guests, dropping in on our lives.

You aren't just "the whole wide world" that needs to pay to receive training on how to stay safe on the road. This is common sense information that will save lives!! Everyone needs to know this. Especially the people that live in Eastern Europe. Or drive along the traffic congested highways of southern California. Or Washington, D.C. which purportedly has the highest car accident statistics in the country.

Violation of copyright?? Intellectual property??

What?!

Alas, almost all of the information that I wrote in my seven separate posts, is protected under copyright and any publication that I would make of material from the Smith System training booklets is illegal.

So, I pulled down the one post that had already published where a figure from their training manual was directly copied ... and ... I suspended publishing the remaining six posts until I can get the legality component squared away.

Because I want to be a law abiding citizen, as much as possible.

Say, while we're on that topic. In response to the questions that people have been sending to me regarding cancer-research fund raising raffles?

Those have been suspended indefinitely.

Because, as it turns out, those are illegal, too.

Margaret expressed concern about that, because raffles are apparently illegal in South Carolina. But my sleuth investigative skills yielded that raffles are not illegal for charitable purposes in California. Which is why I hosted so many of them.

But as it turns out, internet raffles are illegal.

I picked up that golden nugget of information last week as I was planning to host a new raffle for the blind stoker organization. My goal was to help my neighbor, Tom, in his fundraising efforts, as he tries to raise money for a bicycle organization designed to help the blind and visually impaired. Tom will be riding from Santa Barbara to San Diego later this summer - on a tandem - with a 14-year old boy who is totally blind. The raffle prize was going to be a beautiful, brand new bicycle with all of the gear to go with it. Helmet, lock, water bottle.

But as Tom started digging deeper in to the logistics of online raffles, he wound up talking to someone in the Attorney General's Office who said, they are - without a doubt - illegal.

I didn't believe him, so I called the Attorney General's Office, myself. As they were telling me, "Yes, Ma'am they are illegal", I kept repeating, "No way. Nu-huh. They can't be illegal. We are raising money for a GOOD cause. Surely there's a loophole...? Who else can I talk to?? Can you please pass me through to the Senator? We need an IMMEDIATE change in Legislature!!"

Even though we, personally, are not making any money off the raffle...

Even though we, personally, are forking out our own money to fund the raffle...

Even though, all of the money earned from the raffle would go directly to the charitable cause...

They are illegal. (At least for now. But believe me, I'm working on it.)

DOH.

TRIPLE DOH.

Blasted!!

Let's see. What else is there to tell you?

Here are my children attempting to climb over the fence to a community pool, that isn't in the community in which we live. The apple apparently doesn't fall far from the corrupted tree.

Perhaps I should add that to my résumé.

Renegade Lawbreaker.

safe driving 101, part 1

2009-06-30T01:00:00.000-07:00

I recently completed my annual driver safety refresher training.

Seeing as traffic will be at an all-year high this holiday weekend, as people around the United States take to traveling far and wide in celebration of Independence Day, I thought this would be a perfect time to share the knowledge that I learned ... with all of you ... in an effort to keep you safe.

Because I care about you that way.

And since you may be on the same road with me or my precious family, I believe it is important to impart whatever knowledge I have about driving safely to those who read this little blog.

This Driver Safety post has taken me several days to write. I will be publishing it in segments throughout the day, as opposed to one huge post at once, because I fear anyone who tries to read it all at once would lose consciousness. But I will be taking roll and I fully expect you to read it in all of it's entirety.

There will be a quiz at the end.

Now before I dive in to this critically important post - I think it's important to note that I work for a company that takes safe operations very seriously.

In all of the training seminars that we take in order to insure that our activities are executed flawlessly, it is stressed that our behavior dictates our safety. As such, we subscribe to a philosophy that in industry, is commonly referred to as "Behavior-Based Loss Prevention."

The driving safety program that our company subscribes to is from the Smith-System Driver Improvement Institute, and it falls under this Behavior-Based Loss Prevention category. Almost everything included in this post series, has been taken directly from the Smith-System Driver program.

The five keys that I'll be referencing in these posts are registered by Smith-System and are noted, accordingly. Although I've done my absolute best to include an overview of the program here, if you ever have the opportunity to attend a Smith-System Driver Safety program, I would highly (highly, highly) recommend it. There is absolutely NO comparison to reading about how to drive safely and taking a real class, where you are required to get behind the wheel while a Smith-System Trained Instructor analyzes your driving.

Just ask Charlie.

I'm not even a Trained Instructor but since I've had the training at least five times, I critique him constantly when we're on the road. It's awesome and a great marriage builder. (Or not.)

OK. Pour yourself a cup of tea and let's get started.

Every year, thousands and thousands of people die in pointless traffic accidents.

Why?

There are many answers to this question. But the most important answer is that precautions were rarely taken to prevent these tragic accidents. True, some accidents are inescapable. But of the MILLIONS of accidents happening every year, only a small percentage are truly non-preventable.

Yet, the right precautions do prevent accidents. And seeing as we spend a large portion of our lives driving, we need to be cognizant of what those precautions are. Especially considering many of us are transporting life's most precious cargo.

These pictures below were sent to me, today, by a colleague at work.

Do you see the motorcycle?

How about now?

The driver and the passenger in the car were talking on a cell phone. The driver of the car didn't see the motorcycle and the motorcyclist, who was driving at 85 miles per hour, didn't notice the bright red car - edging out at the intersection. When the paramedics arrived, they extracted three victims from the red car. The motorcycle driver - the driver - and the passenger.

They were all killed instantly.

The Smith-System is a series of interlocking techniques for preventing accidents. They help drivers to see, think and act their way through the multitude of driving environments, challenges and changes that exist no matter where they travel or what types of vehicles they operate.

Total awareness, perceptive anticipation, accurate forecasting, early detection and deliberate reaction are the primary features of these techniques.

Behind the variety of unique reasons for every accident are common contributing factors that repeatedly come in to play. But most of these factors include human error. They include:

Inattention: It might surprise you that most of the drivers on the road don't pay enough attention to the serious business of driving. Yet change is the most constant thing on the road. There are an endless variety of things that must be identified and analyzed, at every moment.

Too Much Attention to Too Little: Some drivers concentrate too much attention for too long one item, while missing others of equal or greater importance.

Not Enough Time: Drivers often do not allow themselves adequate time to make important decisions and act upon them. This is usually caused by not seeing enough, soon enough.

Not Enough Space: Drivers frequently accompany each other in close-knit packs, leaving themselves no maneuvering room if they need to steer clear of a sudden problem. They tailgate both inside and outside of packs.

Not Allowing for the Mistakes of Others: Drivers often fail to see or anticipate the mistakes of others in time to avoid conflict.

Not Enough Training: Fundamental training is often very inadequate. Many drivers are turned loose in the traffic world after gaining only limited knowledge of local laws and the basics of vehicle handling.

Failure to Adjust to Conditions: Changing road and weather conditions require drivers to adapt and to modify driving techniques. Many drivers don't adapt to circumstances, or are slow to recognize their importance.

Driver Impairment: The influences of alcohol, drugs, fatigue and illness can lead to accidents.

Vehicle Failure: This causes a very small percentage of accidents. Many of them can be avoided if drivers take the proper precautions.

Up next ... the first of Five Keys to Driving Safely.

Go grab yourself a donut.

a new meaning for "boxed lunch"

2009-06-29T13:31:00.000-07:00

One of Henry's all-time favorite activities is playing with a cardboard box.

He likes to climb in.

He likes to climb out.

He likes to sit down and stay awhile.

So one day last week, when the triplets wanted to eat their lunch outside ...

At the front of our house...

In an area where there is absolutely no fencing to hold in a curious toddler ...

I served Henry his lunch in a box.

He was happily and safely contained...

And sat for the entire duration of time we were outside, contentedly eating a grilled cheese sandwich, alongside his Toy Story posse.

When lunch time was over, we just pushed Henry and his box back in to the house. Then I dumped out all of his uneaten lunch and used it for him again, the very next day. (I just noticed that his box was for apples. Maybe that's why he liked it so much?)

Clean up is a snap!

Baby is contained and happy!

Change of scenery at the front of the house is fun and exciting!

All in all, this very well might be one of the most brilliant things I've ever thought up. (And quite possibly, the cutest.)

my stud and my little muffins

2009-06-28T21:40:00.000-07:00

My husband is amazing. He finished his triathlon today. And while he had a great experience on the course - and finished with a very impressive time - he was humbled to discover that a 78-year old man beat him by two minutes.

I told him that if he keeps practicing, just think how good he will be 36 years from now.

William, meanwhile, was so inspired by what he saw on the race course today, that he came home and started training immediately. He told me that once the training wheels come off his bike, he wants to sign up for his first race.

And, would it be OK if he wore his Superman cape?

If Charlie keeps up with these triathlons - and our children follow in his footsteps ...

I love the idea that 36 years from now, they could be taking the triathlon race circuit by storm in their matching superhero capes.

Personally, I think that would be a really good look.

give me strength

2009-06-27T22:30:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, Jim had an appointment with his oncologist, and apparently, there is a 50% chance that the tumor on his pancreas is benign. And ... because he is not exhibiting any of the symptoms associated with pancreatic cancer, and he is in his mid-80's, the doctors have suggested that rather than subject him to invasive surgery or treatment, we should take a wait and see approach.

All of this sounded like great news to us. So we immediately began planning for the whole lot of us ... Mom and Jim and me and Charlie and all the kids ... to take a seven-day cruise for the triplet's fifth birthday in October.

Today, my mom called to tell us that Jim suffered a massive stroke in the shower this morning. He was rushed to the hospital by ambulance and was exhibiting signs of paralysis on his left side. Although Mom is optimistic that Jim will pull through this ... and an e-mail that she sent out tonight suggests that he might be regaining some of the feeling on his left side ... we're sad to think that someone we care for so much is having such significant health struggles.

But we're also extremely thankful for the good health that we have and are fully aware that life can change in a moment.

This afternoon, we went to the expo for the triathlon Charlie, and 15 of my co-workers, will be competing in, tomorrow morning. My husband took our two girls to go pick up his race packet, and I took the boys on a last-minute shopping trip to pick up a few items that my husband will need in the morning.

While I was darting my attention between William and the various triathlon shorts, my four-year-old son, who I had told explicitly to hold the handle of the stroller, had tiptoed away and was trying to play hide-n-go seek in the middle of 20 high-end race bikes that were precariously perched in racks. High-end bicycles that had price tags of $8,999.00 and up and which the owner of the store observed would make a mighty nice present for Daddy, if William toppled them all.

I met up with Charlie who had taken the girls to the expo and he told me that it was like the Bataan Death March trying to get the girls from one tent to the next. They were laying down to look at bugs. Staring at the clouds. Hungry for something to eat. Thirsty for something to drink. Unhappy with their shoes that they wanted to take off and put back on again. And whining - all the while - "I can't waaaaalk! Carrrrry Meeeee!"

We get the race packets and go out to dinner with half of the folks that will be racing, tomorrow. The restaurant I selected is classic Italian with eccentric art all over the walls and various sculptures placed throughout the establishment.

The food is great, but the atmosphere is even better.

In attendance at dinner is a friend of a friend, who has a son that just recently turned six-years-old. While at dinner, I determined that the only thing more crazy than four-year-old triplets and an almost two-year-old toddler who believes he is invincible, is that same combination WITH a newly turned six-year-old boy.

Because after tonight, I can honestly say that in my entire life - I have never seen so much crazy energy.

The bouncing.

The jumping.

The jousting.

The jabbing.

It wasn't even possible to pull the kids aside and talk any amount of reason to them. It was like the six-year-old had gotten them in to some kind of kid-freak-frenzy and the only thing that would successfully shake them out of it, would be submersion in to a pool of ice water.

Now, under normal circumstances, I would have just left. But tonight we couldn't just leave. We had ordered dinner and everyone needed to eat. We had to discuss logistics for tomorrow. The racers had to "carbo" load. So to try and calm the kids down, a few adults took the rambunctious kids for a walk around the restaurant to look at the art work. Henry was dodging servers carrying trays of food. I was trying to dodge after him all the while herding kids from one picture to the next.

"Look!" I'd tell the kids. "There's a picture of a baby with a bowl of spaghetti on it's head. That poor baby. Isn't it funny?!"
While I was pondering if the baby, or photographer, put all that spaghetti atop the little head, the six-year-old had spotted something that he thought was hilarious.

Michelangelo?

Side-splitting.

This fountain?

Our kids have never been exposed to "this" kind of humor before. But tonight, they were laughing so hard, I was afraid they were going to turn blue and stop breathing. I actually think one of them wet their pants.

So, this is the influence of older kids? Great. Now I have to figure out how to isolate them from society until they join the monastery.

Tomorrow, we need to be up and out of the house - with all four children - by 5:30 AM. We will rejoin the families that we had dinner with tonight, including the six-year-old boy whose father will be competing with Charlie. While my husband swims 1 kilometer, bicycles 30 kilometers and runs 10 kilometers, I will shuttle children and gear from one place to the next and try my darnedest not to lose my mind.

Please, say a prayer for me.

For us.

For Jim.

favorite thing friday

2009-06-26T23:03:00.000-07:00

When Charlie and I first started dating, one of the (many, many) things that drew me to my future-husband, was his family. They are a great group of people and I really admired the way that they celebrated the family unit and embraced certain traditions.

For instance, at the end of every day when his father would walk in the door from work, he would give a little whistle to indicate that he was home. And every evening, just before dinner, his mother and father would freshen themselves up, and sit down with a glass of wine and a bowl of popcorn at 6:00 PM.

Charlie's mom would put on a clean dress and powder her nose. Charlie's dad would change his shirt and shoes. Then, they'd pop open a bottle of wine and sit down to reflect on the day, while dinner finished cooking.

It was a simple thing ... yet, very bonding.

All of their children, and any friends that were visiting, were invited to join in on this "cocktail hour" and depending upon their ages, they could either have a glass of juice - or a glass of wine - along with the patriarch and matriarch of the family.

According to my husband, this was such a standard thing that his family did, that it was really no big deal to him. But whenever friends would be visiting - and his parents would furnish a big bowl of popcorn and drinks - they would think it was the coolest thing ever.

Some of the fondest memories my husband has as a child growing up, were times spent, sitting with his parents and just chatting during cocktail hour. It is for that reason that when we were married in 1994, the very first thing that we registered for was the same style Electric Popcorn Popper that Charlie had growing up.

This was the gift that Charlie's brother Steve and his wife, Kathy, gave to us and we have used the same popcorn popper approximately 200 nights a year, for the past 15 years. Although we don't make popcorn and drink a glass of wine every night, we do it often.

There are a lot of different opinions on when you should feed children popcorn.

The popular consensus is that children shouldn't be fed popcorn until they are at least four years old. We've been feeding popcorn to our children since they were about 18-months old, but we've been very careful to break the "kernels" off the popcorn, before we let them eat it. (OK. Sometimes, not always. But we do try. Does it make us more responsible that we don't ever let them ride bikes without wearing helmets??)

To cook, we pour a tablespoon full of vegetable oil in to the base of the electric popper and add approximately 1/2 cup of Orville Redenbacher's popcorn. Because Orville's the best.

Then, we turn on the popper and let it spin until all the popcorn has finished popping.

This is always a fun event for everyone involved.

We flip it the popper over and transfer our popped corn in to a large bowl. Then, we top it with just a slight sprinkle of kosher salt. At first I thought it was a little dry without butter dripping off each piece. But, with time, I have come to embrace this healthier - and tastier - version of the popped corn. It's certainly better than any microwave popcorn I've ever had and it doesn't leave an oily residue in your mouth.

I suspect that as our children grow older, cocktail hour - whether with a bowl of popcorn, or perhaps some cheese and crackers - will be something that we will fully embrace as an evening ritual. Along with that evening ritual of eating a small ice cream cone just before bath time.

But that one comes from my side of the family.

because cleanliness is important to us

2009-06-25T16:14:00.000-07:00

When an entire bag of goldfish crackers were spilled on the floor today, by a toddler who goes by the name of Henry ...

I did my best to pick out any hairs and sticks and gobs of dried up Playdoh, before scooping them in to a large Ziploc bag.

Then I wrote, "Floor Fish" on the bag...

So we're sure not to serve them to any guests that might come visit.

what's in you wednesday

2009-06-24T16:47:00.000-07:00

Charlie had to run to the office for a few hours today, so I took the children to our local park.

They rode their bikes there. Which they often do, because although it's dangerous to ride around our neighborhood - what with undulating sidewalks and driveways spaced every 10 feet - there is a nice path, about six feet wide, that goes the entire way around our park where the kids can practice their cycling skills.

Typical for a midweek morning, when we arrived, the park was nearly empty.

We played for a while on the playground. We ran around and took turns throwing a football. We took a drink of water from the water fountain and then, we started to make our way home.

Everyone was happy. Including me. I was chipper, almost.

Because we were on the far side of the park, we needed to wind around the pathway back to the entrance. I had already started to walk - and push Henry who was in the stroller - and the kids were riding behind me, in a single file line.

As we were walking out of the park, and I was glancing over my shoulder every so often to make sure that my little riders were all OK, I happened to notice that there was a 50'ish year old man running, almost sprinting, around the path. He was wearing headphones and looked like he was in pretty good shape. Which was obvious to me, because he wasn't wearing a shirt.

So he's running towards us - and I'm looking back at the kids to make sure that they are in single file line, out of his way, and not hogging up the pathway.

They are riding perfectly.

In a nice neat row, just to the right of center.

There is plenty of room for Mr. No Shirt to run by.

But as he runs past my three little children on their training-wheeled-bicycles, he holds his hand down, like he is swatting at a fly, and yells out, "GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

Then to my next child he swats and yells, "PAY ATTENTION!"

Then to the third child he swatted and yelled something, I don't know what, because at this point William caught up to me and said, "Mommy, that man was mean to me!" and the blood was boiling so loudly in my ears all I could hear was a low thunder beginning to rumble.

I stopped in my tracks and stood there for a moment, watching the guy running and thinking, hoping - praying - he didn't pass us again. Because if he did and if he said ONE WORD to my children, or attempted to SWAT at them again ... he might die.

At the hands of me.

So we keep walking. And already I'm talking out loud, rehearsing what I am going to say if Mr. No Shirt passes us again. The kids are looking at me, a little scared, because they can tell that I'm very angry and yet, they have no idea why.

I tell the kids to go ahead of me, because if he passes us and if he swats at them or so much OPENS HIS MOUTH, I am going to pounce like a ravenous bear on a fat seal.

We are only about 100 yards from the exit of the park, but just then, I see Mr. No Shirt is barreling down on our side of the path. I shout that the kids need to stay in a single file line and to the far RIGHT so he can pass on the left. The kids know exactly what this mean and they oblige. They scoot to the far side so Mr. No Shirt has ample room to run past.

But guess what ~~that bastard~~ Mr. No Shirt did?

HE SWATTED AT MY KIDS AGAIN.

He put his hand down and shooed at them, while loudly growling, "PAY ATTENTION!" and "STAY OUT OF THE WAY!"

And guess what I did?

I whipped off my sunglasses and yelled, "HEY! WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?! DID YOU NOT SEE THE SIGN OVER THERE THAT READS THIS IS A PUBLIC PARK?! HOW DARE YOU SWAT AT MY CHILDREN!"

Mr. No Shirt stops running and throws his arms up in the air before he starts yelling at me.

"HEY LADY! I'M DOING YOU A FAVOR! I WAS TELLING THEM TO MOVE SO I WOULDN'T RUN THEM OVER! I DIDN'T YELL AT THEM TO GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

This guy was infuriated. Totally furious. I could tell that whatever anger issues I might be harboring, he was harboring more. He was spitting and started cursing that he had his headphones on and the music is loud and he yelled out, "WHAT THE $%@* IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

He was trying to intimidate me. But he didn't. Because although I wish I could run away from conflict, I totally lack that ability. There are times when I feel possessed by doing Goodwill for my fellow man and want to blow kisses to the Universe, and there are other times, I feel like I could kill my fellow man with my own two hands and launch their corpses in to outer space.

Especially this guy, who was probably a woman beater.

I yelled back at him, "I HEARD YOU YELL AT MY CHILDREN TO GET OUT OF YOUR WAY AND THEY WEREN'T IN YOUR WAY! IF YOU'VE GOT A PROBLEM - GO RUN ON THAT TRACK ..." arms gesturing to the adjacent field ... "OVER THERE!"

He started screaming something about me being stupid and an idiot. "LADY, YOU ARE A STUPID IDIOT! YOU ARE STUPID!! I WAS DOING YOU A FAVOR!!" Then, just before he took off running again, he yelled, "YOU SHOULDN'T START SOMETHING YOU AREN'T GOING TO FINISH!!!"

Seriously?? This is what Mr. No Shirt says to a woman with four small children under her direct supervision?? Wow. What a stud. What a stand up, honorable man.

I shouldn't start something I'm not going to finish.

Well, it's too bad he took off running like a pansy, because I'm pretty sure that I could have finished him off pretty well. My strategy consisted of poking out his eyeballs and shoving them in his ears. After I kicked his gems up to his larynx and coated him with pepper spray.

I was pumped.

Charged.

I had four little ~~cubs~~ children to protect and I was hungry for blood.

Once he ran away like a skunk and we exited the park, I could tell the kids were shaken and I felt like dirt. Why couldn't I have just left and not said anything?? I'm not sure how to explain it, except to say some other being took over.

Again.

(And ... I clearly lack sense.)

When we were out of the park, I pulled all the children close and told them that I'm very sorry they saw me get so upset. I really love them and I don't want any one to hurt them. Then I told them that the word of the day is JERK. "That man running around the park is a JERK."

The moral of this story is I may not be able to do a pull-over on the bar, but I'm pretty sure I could take anyone who threatens me or my children ... singlehandedly. And, I'm really glad that it was me at the park and not Charlie, because after discussing the incident with my husband, he assures me that he too would have spoken up - a fight most likely would have ensued - and I'd be looking for a good defense attorney.

Or, at least, some way to dispose Mr. No Shirt's body.

Isn't it great that I've been going to a Christian Church?

Yes. I know!!

It's really been doing WONDERS for me.

the bad samaritan(s)

2009-06-23T15:45:00.000-07:00

I took all four children in to a public restroom today.

Upon our entry, it was evident we were the only ones in there. Which is a good thing because I like having a public restroom all to myself. Or ourselves, as the case may be. But while we were in the stall - someone came in and took up the stall next to us.

And well.

They had gas.

A lot of gas.

If you haven't spent time around a four-year-old lately, you might not know they are extremely observant and they enjoy talking. A lot.

So there I am. With four little children. Three of whom are very loud talkers and they ask me in a startled tone, "What's THAT noise?!" Almost immediately, they realize what THAT noise is and they begin commenting on the person in the stall directly next to us.

"Mommy! Someone is going TOOT TOOT on the TOOT train!!"

Followed by the four-year-old symphony of, "Beans, beans, the magic fruit! The more you eat, the more you TOOT!"

Instead of shushing my children, which really wouldn't have had much effect, I did what any other horrified mother, born of the 70's might do. I burst in to singing some totally random Carpenters song as loudly as I could to try and drown out my offspring.

"SUCH A FEELING'S COMING OVER ME! THERE IS WONDER IN MOST EVERYTHING I SEE! NOT A CLOUD IN THE SKY GOT THE SUN IN MY EYE AND I WON'T BE SURPRISED IF IT'S A DREAM!"

I finish lifting three children on and off the toilet, while trying to keep the toddler from pulling used feminine products out of the small wall-mounted trashcan and we make, what I hope, is a very hasty exit to the sinks.

While I'm standing at the sinks desperately trying to wash my children's hands and thinking that perhaps a squirt of Purell might do the job just as well because I've never been in such a rush to get out of a public bathroom, the occupant of the adjacent stall joins us at the sink.

Now I will go to my grave wondering why this woman couldn't have waited 30 seconds for me and my brood of chatters to leave before she came out. But there she was. Next to us at the sinks. And while I expeditiously tried to get the excessive amount of soap off my children's hands that they had squirted up to their elbows, one of my children looked up at this woman and sweetly inquired if she felt better?

And gosh, what did she eat?

I know that our children will one day soon learn that talking about someone's flatulence in a public restroom is inappropriate. But I didn't feel it would be appropriate for me to give them that lesson - at that very moment in time. Just like I didn't feel like it would be appropriate to give a lecture on anatomy in the public restroom at Costco.

So, I just kept smiling and singing and trying to appear oblivious to the conversation taking place two feet below me. All the while my children looked up at me with confused expressions as I tried to encourage them to stop! talking! and! start! singing!

"I'M ON THE TOP OF THE WORLD LOOKING DOWN ON CREATION AND THE ONLY EXPLANATION I CAN FIND IS THE LOVE THAT I FOUND EVER SINCE YOU'VE BEEN AROUND, YOUR LOVE PUTS ME AT THE TOP OF THE WORLD!"

I'm hopeful that one day, I'll look back on this and think it's hilarious.

Today, I'm just really thankful that I'm so good at remembering song lyrics.

the good samaritan

2009-06-22T21:30:00.000-07:00

I've been a mess of tears today.

My blogging cousins, Lisa and Anne Marie, both wrote the most beautiful tributes to their fathers on their blogs today. And since I love both of these men dearly - I was positively verklempt.

As I was reading Lisa's blog about my Uncle Bill, I was reminded of a story I had almost completely forgotten. When Lisa was 16-years old, she received a speeding ticket and had to go to court. Uncle Bill went with her - because he always did whatever he could to help support his children. Or nieces and nephews. Or whomever happened to be lucky enough to be considered a friend to this great man. Borrowing directly from Lisa's post:

As we waited in the court room, there was a young man standing in front of the judge who was in trouble for something pretty minor ... I can't even remember what it was now. The young man was visibly shaking. The judge asked him some questions and then charged him a fine that he could not pay. The judge then gave this young guy jail time because he had NO money.

When my father heard this, he jumped up form his seat and said, "What? You're sending this young kid to jail because he is down on his luck?" The judge asked, "Who are you?" And then she asked the kid, "Do you know this man?"

He said, "No..."

My father was told to sit down. He told the court he would not. He couldn't sit there and listen to the judge send this young man to jail for something so minor and asked how much he owed the court. He also asked if the fine was paid would the young man be free to go? (I can't remember the price of the fine now, but I remember the shaking kid ... I know he was all alone ... and I know he couldn't believe what he was hearing.)

I remember my father approaching the judge and asking if he could stand with this young man and represent him. The kid told my father he could not repay him and my father said he didn't want the money back. I remember my father saying, "I don't care about the money. I have it and I want to pay your fine. I just don't see this happening." He told the kid he wanted him to get in to school and make something out of himself and give "it" back to someone else ... when he could.

Now that I think of it ... he was paying it forward ... way before it was popular.

What Lisa forgot to mention in her post is that once Uncle Bill paid this young man's fine, he didn't have enough for hers - so she was put in jail for two weeks.

(No. That didn't really happen. But I nearly cracked up just thinking of it!!)

Lisa's story is a perfect example of my Uncle Bill. He is an extraordinary man who genuinely cares about his fellow man. Whether he knows them or not.

This morning I called Child Protective Services in San Diego. They told me that based on my experience at the park yesterday, I did the right thing in contacting the police. But they too, couldn't understand why the police wouldn't have conducted a more depth investigation as to who this woman was and whether or not she and her son needed help.

So, I hung up from CPS and called the police department.

I spoke to the same dispatcher that I had spoken to yesterday morning. She told me that the police officer had responded to the park and had spoken with the woman. He gave her a warning and said that she needed to get up and watch her child. Then, he left.

When I told her that the woman had laid back down and fallen asleep as soon as he pulled out of the parking lot, she sounded surprised - and sad. She said that what I should have done, is called the police back. Which I didn't do. But in hindsight, I really wish I had.

I also really wish that I had spoken to the woman.

I wish that I had asked her if she was OK and if she needed any help. I wonder if I had spoken with her, mother to mother, woman to woman, if she might have told me what was going on? Perhaps she had just driven all the way to San Diego from Canada. Perhaps she was down on her luck and needed some food. Or, maybe I could have provided her directions to the nearest shelter?

Going forward, if I'm ever in a similar situation again, I will call the police. But, I will also summon whatever courage I can to talk with the person and tell them that I don't see "this" happening. I will tell them that I am worried about them, and their child. And I will not leave until the issue is resolved, even if that means I have to summon the police two or more times.

I never should have walked away yesterday. As soon as I saw it, I was involved. So I should have stayed there and called the police again and I should have talked to the woman and done whatever I could to help her and Joshua.

I should have done more.

Not just because that would have been the right thing to do, but because that's what my Uncle Bill would have done.

what would you do?

2009-06-21T22:31:00.000-07:00

This morning Charlie and I loaded up the children and drove to Spanish Landing, which is a nice park area along the San Diego Harbor.

The purpose of this trip was so that my husband could meet with the San Diego Triathlon Club and see the course that he will be completing as part of his triathlon, a week from today.

Once Charlie had learned all there was to learn about the race course, we made our way over to a small playground that was adjacent to the parking lot. The playground was situated on the sandy beach, approximately 100 feet from the bay. As our children were set loose to climb all over the play structure, I noticed that there was a little boy, with beautiful brown curly hair, playing by himself. When he saw our tribe of children, he quickly came over to join us.

After playing for 30 minutes or so, it dawned on me that there was no one checking in on him. By this point, I knew that his name was Joshua and he was five years old. When I asked him where his mother was, he pointed to a person who was curled up under a blanket and sound asleep on the ground.

Charlie and I exchanged confused looks before I climbed off the play structure to go investigate.

There was a carriage parked about 50 feet from the play structure and directly beneath, was what appeared to be a woman, totally unconscious.

In the same general vicinity, there were two picnic tables that were occupied by what looked like one large family. I walked over to the picnic table and the people who had been gathered around, began walking towards me. I pointed to the woman laying on the ground and asked if perhaps she was with them?

They shook their heads no and said she wasn't with them, and she had been passed out for the two hours that they had been there. One of the men in the group said that he had bent down and asked her to move - before yelling that there was no loitering allowed - and she didn't budge.

When I told the people that our children were playing with what I believed to be her son, they nodded and said that they noticed that there was a little boy running around and they thought that perhaps he was her child but they weren't quite sure.

Now, I've experienced people who are too busy socializing or reading a book to pay attention to the children under their care. But I've never once seen someone who intentionally falls asleep - in a public place under a blanket - while their young child runs around.

So. I walked back to the beach area and Joshua was now playing at the water's edge with our children. While our kids were hanging back on the sand, he had walked in to the water - up to his knees - and his blue jeans, socks and shoes were soaked. I coaxed him out of the water and asked him where he lives. He said that he had lived in Canada but now he doesn't know where he lives and he'd need to ask his mom.

My mind was reeling with what to do.

There was no way I was going to leave the park without knowing that Joshua was being looked after by a conscious adult. But should I go over and try to wake the mother up? After a brief exchange with Charlie, I decided to call the police.

Because:

1) I was genuinely concerned for Joshua's welfare and in my opinion, this was a clear cut case of NEGLECT. What if he waded too deep in the water and drowned? What if someone picked him up and took off? Although there is evidence to suggest that crime rates are down, terribly bad things still happen to children.

2) So what if I woke her up? I doubted that this was the first time his mother fell asleep in a public area - and what was to stop her from doing it again?

3) What if the woman was on drugs and woke up belligerent?

While I waited for the police to show up, and Joshua's mother slept on, I struck up a conversation with the family at the picnic table. They believed that she had rolled in and noticed that there was a playground which would attract families with small children - so she decided that while she slept - other people would watch her son. Which is pretty much exactly what happened.

After 10 minutes, the police arrived. I met the officer as he walked towards us and I repeated the entire story to him. We had been there for about an hour and Joshua's mother never once woke up. I was concerned that someone could take off with him. I was concerned that he could fall in the water and drown. The officer nodded in agreement and then walked over to where Joshua's mom lay sleeping. He bent down to talk with her and she sat up and groggily rubbed her eyes.

They talked for about 15 minutes. Then, he left.

Joshua's mother pulled out a cell phone and made a call. But after a few minutes, once the police officer had driven away, she pulled the blanket over her shoulders and fell back to sleep. By this point, Joshua had attached himself to a new family and I felt like I done all that I could, or should. Since it was time for us to feed the kids lunch, we made our way back to the car.

But on the drive home I felt totally perplexed.

Was I interfering? Was it my place to get involved? Did I do the right thing? If I did the right thing, why did the police turn their back and leave? What classifies neglect? And at what point should the authorities step in to make sure that a child is safe?

What would you have done?

public service announcement

2009-06-20T13:34:00.000-07:00

There have been small scale struggles erupting in our house every day for the past few weeks, because our children have learned how to log on to the computer and play Curious George on the PBS website. And when they're not clashing with each other over computer time, they are telling me - or Charlie - that our time is up and it is now their turn. And I can't help but think, five years ago these people who are now negotiating with me over computer time were still in my womb.

It boggles my mind.

But since everything that the children are doing online is at the high end of the educational spectrum, I generally oblige with their requests. Although when I noticed that they had adjusted a few of my settings to the internet, I became a little paranoid that they were going to cause some problems from their random clicking of this and that and dragging this here and there.

My fear was confirmed when I tried to log on to my blog from my husband's lap top earlier this week and discovered that it was gone. As in, my blog was no longer there.

IT WAS GONE.

A slight amount of panic ensued as I tried to understand what had happened. (Who am I kidding? A whole heckuva lot of panic ensued.) Ultimately, I discovered that Blogger was no longer routing traffic from my old address to my new address. Within a day of me realizing this, I started receiving emails and telephone calls from people wondering why I had deleted my blog?

So, if it turns out that you have had the same issue, you might want to consider deleting www.amazingtrips.blogspot.com from your bookmark and replacing it with www.TheAmazingTrips.com.

It's simple and easy to do.

Just as simple as receiving and returning your donation packet to Be The Match.

You have until Monday, June 22 to receive your free donation packet so if you haven't contacted them yet about joining the Bone Marrow Registry - and you feel like this is something you'd like to do - you've got two days remaining.

(Virtual HIGH FIVES to all of you who have already registered, including my cousin Margaret who reconsidered after telling me no, no, NO way.)

And many, many prayers going out and up and all around for our dear friend, Deana, who received her bone marrow stem cell transplant yesterday at MD Anderson in Texas. GO STEM CELLS!! GO STEM CELLS!! MAKE DEANA STRONG!! GET THAT WOMAN HOME TO HER BABIES!!

This picture is totally unrelated to anything except to point out that I really need to improve my photography skills and am seriously thinking about taking a digital photography and web design class at the local community college.

You know, once I can figure how to squeeze an additional three hours out of the day.

from the archives

2009-06-19T14:18:00.000-07:00

Today, I received an e-mail from a woman named Gloria who asked why I had stopped writing about Favorite Thing Friday. And well, it wasn't my intention to stop writing about favorite things on Friday ... I just found that my mind was wandering in different directions at around the same time my favorite thing well was starting to go a little dry.

But since I do have a few things in mind that I would like to write about, I was just scouring through my archives to see if I could find a picture of something I'd like to write about, later today. Or next Friday, if this day continues going as fast as it currently is. (How can it already be afternoon? Didn't we just have breakfast?)

In the course of scouring through my archives, I'm finding some old photos that are making my heart melt. This is one of them.

This is another.

And this is a picture of my husband a few months ago when I told him that one more baby would be so much fun.

If I remember correctly his exact response was, "You stay away from me, woman."

validation

2009-06-18T21:43:00.000-07:00

If our children had still been enrolled in Montessori school, this would have been their last week for the semester. But since they are no longer in school, this week marks six months that we've been homeschooling.

The photo, below, is a comparative analysis of an apple that the children colored while they were in Montessori and a picture that they colored while under our tutelage. The apple on the left is an example of what they drew while they were in school this past December. The apple on the right is an example of what they are were able to draw, while at home, earlier this month.

Now it could just be that the children have matured rapidly over the past six months and an improvement in their ability to draw is completely irrelevant. Or it could be that Charlie and I are doing an acceptable job of teaching our children at home and allowing them to develop and explore at their own pace.

However you dice it, by "teaching" the kids at home, we have saved almost $14,000.00 on tuition. We've spared ourselves 240 hours in the car shuffling the children to and from school. And, we've had almost 720 hours together - the equivalent of a month - that we would have missed if they'd been in school for six hours a day.

In that time, we've built dams, bird nests, irrigation systems and tackled some of the largest roller coasters in town.

I'm just really glad we made the decision that we did.

what's in you wednesday

2009-06-17T23:19:00.000-07:00

Last week, one of my friends, Holly, wrote that she is considering - possibly - participating in the Ovarian Cancer Research triathlon with me this October. But she's never done a triathlon before and she is feeling a little intimidated because it seems so ... extreme.

We traded e-mails for a few days regarding what would be involved and when I told her that the distances really weren't that long and if she went in to this simply to have a fun experience, I fully suspect she would have a great time.

She wrote back to let me know that what she really likes about me is that I'm not at all competitive. I just take on these challenges to raise money for cancer research and to have fun. I, in turn, wrote her back to confirm that I am quite possibly, the least competitive person she'll ever meet in her life.

But it was interesting that Holly made that comment about my lack of competitiveness, because I was thinking the exact same thing about myself just the other day.

Over the past year, I've participated in four athletic events. What I've determined is that I train for these events so I can complete the event. And I do these events so that I can have the experience. I don't participate so that I can win. I really have no aspirations to beat any one else out there. And I think that's what makes it fun for me.

I love being at the start line and feeling the anticipation. I love having a challenge before me. I love knowing that I'm out there as part of a group who are physically active. I love being inspired to keep doing these events, whenever I look around and see that I'm surrounded by people who are strong and ready to take on the course. I love knowing that while I'm out there doing something good for my body and spirit, the vast majority of the population are still in bed.

But Holly's comment got me thinking.

Why is it that I'm so non-competitive?

I genuinely wonder if my attitude is some kind of defense mechanism?

If I really push myself hard to train only to discover that I don't meet goals that I've set for myself, I will feel like I've failed. And if I fail to meet my own expectations, I'm less likely to do it again. So, it's better to just go in to something with no expectations - except to finish - and enjoy myself while I'm out there.

Last week Michele, a fellow triplet mom who lives in Las Vegas, posted a video of herself flipping over a bar and then, doing a scissor swing, 'round and 'round and 'round.

And then, she had the audacity to dare me to do a back flip off the high bar. Now although I'm not competitive, when I saw that challenge, I was all Charlie, "QUICK! We need to go find a BAR!"

To which my husband replied, "A bar? Why? Do you want to go out drinking?"

(Which - in hindsight - that really might have been a better idea.)

This afternoon, we drove all around our neighborhood to find a bar so that I could attempt to swing my rather large posterior up and over and then back flip off. Why would I do this - you might ask? Because I seriously think someone broke in to our house and gave me a lobotomy while I was sleeping.

Today, the closest thing we could find to a bar were some rings. And those 60 minutes that I spent attempting to flip over the rings didn't go too well for me. Nor did it go well for the woman who was hanging out at the park with her children and after watching me for several minutes - decided to try herself - because she, like I, once was able to do this kind of thing.

Twenty five years ago really seems like just ... YESTERDAY.

Suffice to say, I doubt either one of us will be able to lift our arms to shave our pits for the next week. But notice my husband and four-year-old daughter are able to flip over the bar like a bunch of monkeys.

At least I can still do a cartwheel. And I was just about to attempt my fantastic one-handed cartwheel, but the kids started to have a meltdown and just then, the ice cream truck drove by and ... well.

You know me.

(OK. That's not true. I tried a one-handed cartwheel, which I could honestly do a year ago and I almost face-planted. I think that my mind was totally getting in the way of my athletic ability today. Instead of just GOING FOR IT, I felt the fear. So, I think I might need to spend some time driving around with a cougar in the backseat.)

(Also, this video is flipped 90 degrees because that's what happens when you try to hold a camera upright after your arms are mush because you spent an hour using muscles you haven't attempted to use in 25 years.)

When we returned home, I received an e-mail from my friend, Holly.

She was writing to inform me that she bought a book on triathlons and she will be borrowing her sister's $3,000.00 carbon fiber bicycle. And she'll be buying a wetsuit. So the chances are looking good that unless I bump up my training (as in, START training) someone who has never completed a triathlon before is going to kick my tush in her very first race.

All this to say: If you are just starting out with an exercise program - or you're trying to feel better about yourself on the physical front - let's just say it's SUPER DUPER GREAT to have a friend like me.

*************

People, I need a straight YES or NO answer here.

Can you do a flip on a bar or rings?

If yes, I want video proof, your age and what type of vitamin supplements you take.

But please keep in mind, I will not be held liable for any bodily injury that might result from people who want to see if they've still "got it". Also, it's important to note that if you do attempt to fling yourself over on a bar - or rings - you might want to make sure you have someone available to help lift your toddler child in to and out of their crib for a few days.

Take my advice on that.

what would shirley maclaine say?

2009-06-15T20:20:00.000-07:00

This morning Charlie had to participate in a training session for work, so I took the kids to Sea World for a few hours.

Since a number of schools let students out for summer break last week, and the nightly firework show began this past weekend, Sea World was a mad house on this beautiful Monday morning. There were buses dropping people off and lines were already forming outside many of the exhibits and rides by 10 AM.

Our first stop was to Wild Arctic, which houses the walrus, polar bears ... and quite possibly my all-time favorite marine mammal, the beluga whale.

While we were standing below the water line, behind the thick glass, I noticed that there were several people within the beluga whale tank dressed in wetsuits, clearly participating in one of the "behind the scenes" programs that Sea World offers.

The behind-the-scene participants were standing on a small ledge in shallow water and I could tell that the whale trainers were talking to them ... probably about beluga whale habits and habitat and migration and diet ... while they flipped fish to the whales and patted their heads and bodies.

My four children were all on foot and when the triplets ran to stand on a step at the observation window, Henry was toddling about. I picked him up and placed him on the small step next to his siblings - and through the water - at least 50 feet away, he could see the beluga whale bodies that were partially submerged below the water.

"WHALE!" he yelled out.

The word no sooner left his 23-month old mouth and one of the beluga whales that had been eating handfuls of fish, dove below the water and swam - as fast as I've ever seen a beluga whale swim - directly to the glass window where my children were standing. It pushed it's nose against the window in to the exact location where Henry was holding his outstretched hand.

Then, it stayed there.

It stayed there long enough for me to grab my camera, turn off the flash and take several pictures. It stayed there long enough for all the other visitors that were in the observation area to come running over and stand behind my children and exclaim, "WOW! THAT IS SO COOL!" and "WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT!!"

The beluga whale continued to push it's head in to the glass - while my children laughed - and then, it turned and rolled against the glass window directly in front of us, for several more seconds, before swimming around the tank twice and rejoining the behind-the-scene participants and it's bucket of fish.

I've been to Sea World no less than 50 times in the past few years and I've seen how friendly the beluga whales are. I know that these are social creatures. But I have never seen anything like what I saw, today. So while I stood there speechless and feeling like we had just experienced something truly amazing, my daughter Elizabeth looked up at me and said, "That was my grandmother."

"What?" I asked.

"That was my grandmother!" she repeated.

"Your grandmother?" I inquired, incredulously. "What do you mean, THAT was your grandmother?"

She looked at me very matter-of-factly and said, "That was my Grandma Jeanne."

My jaw dropped open before I asked, "Your Grandma Jeanne is a beluga whale?"

She laughed and said, "Yes. Henry called her. But now she's gone back to the clouds. God didn't know what to do with her!"

While I stood there pondering the significance of this for a moment, William said, "She just wanted to meet us." And then Carolyn added, "So we had a meeting."

Huh.

Pardon the pun, but was this just a fluke? And by fluke, I mean a chance occurrence. (Not either of the two horizontally flattened divisions of the tail of a whale.)

Or, was this a true spiritual encounter?

As for now, I'm planning to categorize this post under my "Soul Food" label. But short of contacting a psychic or Shirley Maclaine, I think I need some insight.

I welcome any explanations for this experience.

Your interpretation begins in...

3,

2,

1.

she's fit for the stage

2009-06-14T00:11:00.000-07:00

This morning, I told Carolyn that she could come with me on an outing to the store. Since one-on-one time is a privilege for our kids, she was tickled.

"The only condition," I told her, "Is that you need to put on your shoes and socks before we leave."

"OK!" she happily agreed.

Yet, for the next 10 minutes, while I set about finishing a shopping list and grabbing items I'd need for the outing... whenever I glanced down at Carolyn, she had one sock on her foot and had slumped in to a heap on the floor.

(This picture quality is awful, but I was carrying a toddler in one arm.)

"Gracie, put your shoes on. If you want to go, you need to wear shoes."

"Gracie, come on. You can do it."

After another five minutes had lapsed and my child rolled around on the floor and moaned that putting on her shoes was SO TIRING, I suggested that she come over to where I was standing at the counter so I could assist.

She began moving across the floor on her belly.

One inch at a time.

Abandoning the one lone sock, behind.

Groaning. Lamenting. OH! The pure exhaustion.

This exertion was simply too much for my young daughter and she put her face down and began to snore. That's when I called out to her brother, "William! Do you want to go to the store with me? It looks like Gracie is going to stay home with dad and take a nap!"

Clearly, that was the motivation that she needed.

In less than a minute, Carolyn had jumped off the floor, pulled on her other sock, jammed her feet in to her shoes and was standing by the door with her arm outstretched singing to me, "MOMMY! COME ON DEAR! HURRY UP SWEETIE! WE ARE GOING TO BE LATE!!"

Perhaps I'm being a little premature, but I wouldn't be surprised if she lands her first Tony by the time she's 10.