tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86558242024-03-13T09:48:31.431-07:00BearcaThe details of my life are quite inconsequential.Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.comBlogger226125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-13828715572609934342012-01-19T17:00:00.000-08:002012-01-19T17:17:21.355-08:00the head and the heart<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> <o:targetscreensize>1024x768</o:TargetScreenSize> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> 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</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal">The voice in my head says <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">I can’t take the kids to the park right now. The house is a disaster!</i><br />The voice in my heart says <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">it’s gorgeous outside. Let’s go laugh ourselves silly while we roll down a hill. </i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The voice in my head says <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">if I give that homeless woman money, she’ll probably just use it for drugs.</i><br />The voice in my heart says <span style="font-style: italic;">how do you know? </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">It’s not your job to decide that. Show grace to others as it’s been freely shown to you. </i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The voice in my head says <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">I’m too busy to make dinner for that family at school whose<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>toddler is in the final stages of cancer.</i><br />The voice in my heart says <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">drop everything. How would I want friends, family and even strangers to treat me if my child was sick?<br /></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The voice in my head says<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"> wow, it’s really annoying how everyone in this family leaves dirty socks everywhere.</i><br />The voice in my heart says<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"> (yep, ditto, still <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>annoying.)<br /></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The voice in my head says<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"> my life is too stressful. I have to go to work, pick up the kids, make lunches, help with homework, cook dinner, go grocery shopping, give the kids their baths, clean up the messes everywhere.</i><br />The voice in my heart says <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">open your eyes, woman! Look at everything you have and be thankful. </i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">****</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Although I only float into this space a couple of times a year, I still envision this as a place to put things I don’t want to forget. This post has been brewing in my head for quite a while now, and I wanted to finally write it down here to keep me accountable to listen to my heart, because it’s telling me important things every day. </p>Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-2070295694071676772011-09-01T15:30:00.000-07:002011-09-01T16:57:31.457-07:00the shape of youI hear three-year old feet padding softly toward my bedside. I try to ignore them, it’s too early for her to be up, and I think ahead to how much coffee I’ll need to get through the morning. I sigh, but she climbs over my somnolent form anyway and settles herself as close to me as she can. Her little body is turned toward me; my eyes are closed, but I hear the soft rhythmic popping sound that means she is sucking her thumb. She takes one warm hand out from beneath the covers, and rests it gently on my arm. After a minute or two, she starts rubbing my arm softly and then I hear her quietly whisper “<span style="font-style: italic;">Mommy. I like the shape of you</span>.” <p class="MsoNormal">I smile, and snuggle her closer, and blue eyes meet across mere inches of pillow. I look at her with her soft blond hair splayed out, and think to myself no, I don’t want to be awake now, but yes, if I have to wake up then this is the way to go. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-style: italic;">I like the shape of you too</span>, little girl. Indeed I do.
<br /></p>
<br />Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-19975695378225904312011-06-24T17:00:00.000-07:002011-06-24T17:00:00.236-07:00Where I'm From<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> <o:targetscreensize>1024x768</o:TargetScreenSize> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> 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mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" >I saw this on <a href="http://alimartell.com/">Ali's site</a>, and loved it so much that I actually decided to do it myself. Did you even remember that I have a blog? Yeah, me neither.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" >++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" >I am from pink bikes with flowered banana seats, rotating sprinklers, Swensen’s ice cream and bookstores. </span><span style=";font-size:100%;" ><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" >I am from hand-me down clothes and beach camping and shave ice and the feel of black vinyl seats on your legs in the summertime. </span><span style=";font-size:100%;" ><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" >F</span><span style=";font-size:100%;" >rom climbing the carrotwood tree, watching the bees buzz through bottlebrush and the smell of star jasmine at night.</span><span style=";font-size:100%;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" >I am from eating olives off your fingers at Thanksgiving and laughing with you, never at you; from Moyers and Carys and Thoms and Juanitas and Nellies; from long car rides in various station wagons to Julian and Borrego Springs and Yosemite.</span><span style=";font-size:100%;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" >I am from repeated jokes and silly puns and friends who are like family.<span style=""> </span></span><span style=";font-size:100%;" ><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" >From don’t forget to write thank-you notes, wear lipstick and sunscreen, you can have more than one friend at a time, and always honor your commitments even when you get a better offer. </span><span style=";font-size:100%;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" >I am from God’s love and mercy, forgiveness without judgment and the belief that people are always redeemable.</span><span style=";font-size:100%;" > </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" >I'm from San Diego and Missouri and Illinois, from BLTs with homegrown tomatoes and homemade apple butter and pie crust and coffee cake. </span><span style=";font-size:100%;" ><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"><span style=";font-size:100%;" >From getting stitches caused by awkward tap dancing, chocolate doughnuts and chocolate milk, from watching the racehorses and going to the fair and laughing ourselves to sleep and sisters always telling what we got each other for Christmas. I am from Dad driving an hour and a half to get the hardware needed to hang up a lamp in my very first dorm room.</span><span style=";font-size:100%;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:";font-size:100%;" >I am from family photos with bad hair, huge boxes of Grandma’s costume jewelry, notes on napkins that say "I love you," and learning that it’s okay if you fail but that showing up is often the most important thing.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style=";font-size:100%;" >++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><em><span style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',Times,serif;">In her post, Ali points to <a href="http://www.swva.net/fred1st/wif.htm" target="_blank">this great template</a>, in case you want to do one of your very own. And you should!<br /></span></em></p>Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-73228453921224211582009-07-22T16:30:00.000-07:002009-07-22T16:30:00.217-07:00I can't believe I'm posting thisHow do you remove peanut butter from a knife? Up to this point, my methods have included the following:<br /><br />1) Use a paper towel to wipe off the knife. Then, place knife in dishwasher.<br />Pros: Effective<br />Cons: wasteful, not earth-friendly, multi-step process<br /><br />2) Rinse knife and gum up dish brush with leftover peanut butter.<br />Pros: Knife ultimately gets clean.<br />Cons: Dish brush is gummed up with leftover peanut butter. Duh.<br /><br />3) Leave knife in sink for two days and hope that the peanut butter somehow sloughs off on its own.<br />Pros: little to no effort<br />Cons: Many. Chiefly the fact that the knife never gets clean.<br /><br />I lamented on Twitter this morning that there is no good way to do this. Right away I got back multiple responses identifying the simplest, most effective method.<br /><br />USE YOUR TONGUE.<br /><br />Hello. Why did I never think of that? Believe it or not, I have a college degree and everything.<br /><br />Now I need to know... am I the only moron who hadn't thought of that? Please, make me feel better.<br /><br />In other news, you guys, I saw Harry Potter last night! I LOVED IT. I was surprised by how funny it was. Not to mention sad. I may or may not have shed a few tears. Now, I'm considering reading book 6 again just to remember all the detail that the movie left out. Book nerd alert!Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-68655257916175817442009-07-20T16:30:00.000-07:002009-07-20T16:30:00.174-07:00weekendery<div>This weekend was one of those where we packed a week's worth of activity into two days. It was also a weekend where we barely turned on the TV, we used up a whole bottle of sunscreen and truly wore ourselves out. </div><div><br /></div><div>Because focusing on activities that Exhaust the Children pretty much sums up my parenting philosophy. </div><div><br /></div><div>On Saturday, we did this by going to a birthday party, the pool and then renting a boat on the bay. This is highly recommended! There were chips, guacamole, pizza... and most importantly, wine. Also, there were small children wearing tiny life jackets. </div><div> </div><div>Cutest ever! But why must they make these ridiculous faces when asked to smile? </div><div><br /></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360651053552839474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3J1u97kwhNNi8qh5MMvzo8_Vr0eFsI4Qn1wrRPjCm8YyywVeT3fG56EzqtHwDQB6FnJr7PSqY4MXcz3HusB2Cbiw-jm3xe6Go0w91dOPWCQMGWHCkN86BhLxIthxEDLoy_aSQ/s320/Evanboatr.jpg" border="0" /></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div>And here is our fearless skipper, who is only lacking a hat to make the ensemble complete. </div><div><br /></div><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360651726643603106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioBtRLNxeFumDSxjhK3aSUp0RJQOpsYjbHpcNyHn8Hc0e31mQ001WaV15p0bCE_fC4KtdnbGHH0bGg63NFlhL4NzlvQml6fPJyT9RNln7POmIGDpIb6NeWoTbdMP-mvof_MWd2/s320/dave-evan.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div></div>Pardon the horrific picture quality. Despite multiple reminders, we were somehow unable to remember to bring our actual camera, so the iPhone had to suffice. At least we remembered the vino.<br /><br />Priorities, people.<br /><p><em></em></p><br /><br /><p><em></p></em><br /><br /><em><div><br /></em></div>Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-28247649565641811652009-07-15T16:33:00.000-07:002009-07-15T16:33:00.285-07:00late adopter<!--[endif]--><span style="font-family:georgia;">Wow. Y'all sure did have my back on the chopstick usage! I had always thought that Awkward Chopsticks™ was a rare and lonely affliction. Evidently it is more common than I ever imagined. It knows neither age nor geographic restrictions! Be strong, my friends. You are in good company. </span><br /><br />Anyway, have you seen the new Harry Potter movie yet? I can't wait to see it. However, that may not happen soon. It's hilarious how late to everything I constantly am. For example, I read the Harry Potter series a couple of months ago, I'm currently reading Lord of the Rings and I just signed up for a Flickr account two weeks ago. Also? The car I drive now is the only one I've ever had with power steering. True story! I like to make sure things are proven before I jump in with both feet.<br /><br />Or something.<br /><br />I'm sure I won't be seeing the movie until I can get it from Netflix, since my children (as charming as they are) are a real bottleneck when it comes to seeing movies in theaters.<o:p></o:p><br /><br />But regardless, I don’t remember ever being as engaged in a series as I was with Harry Potter. I loved how the plot grew as the characters matured, I found the storylines compelling and Severus Snape was one of my favorite characters in recent fiction. So complex and intriguing.<o:p><br /><br /></o:p>So if you’ve seen Half-Blood Prince, give me your two cents! That might just be enough to motivate me to see it with the rest of America… rather than two years later like I usually do. <o:p></o:p>Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-75431381344274722262009-07-13T13:35:00.000-07:002009-07-13T13:37:45.990-07:00is this thing on?Hey, remember me? It’s great to see you. Your hair looks good.<br /><br />Speaking of hair, did you hear that I was on Rachael Ray late last week with the lovely <a href="http://www.whoorl.com/">Whoorl </a>as part of the show’s feature on <a href="http://www.hairthursday.com">Hair Thursday</a>? Yeah, it’s true! The filming happened well over a year ago and just aired on Friday. The experience was so much fun, except for one teeny-tiny part.<br /><br />Let me give you a quick overview of how it all went down. First, Rachael interviewed Sarah on stage. Did you see how articulate and glamorous Sarah was? She’s a stunner, that one. Then, Rachael talked to me from the audience to ask why I participated in Hair Thursday. After that part, I was whisked away into the hair and makeup room to get my hair cut and colored by the awesome Rodney Cutler and his team. Seriously, there could not be a nicer and more talented guy than Rodney. He was amazing. <br /><br />After my hair was all done and styled, they brought me back out on stage toward the end of the show for the big reveal. Which is where I somewhat mortifyingly flipped my hair and Rachael made me do a little twirl. I’m not usually much of a center-of-attention type, I’ve gotta tell ya. But the studio audience was fun because they clap a lot. Applause! It’s encouraging! Who knew.<br /><br />All was going well until Rachael had me sit down at the table in front of a big plate of sweet and sour pork that she had made on the show that day. It looked and smelled delicious, but when I saw that the only available utensils were chopsticks, I panicked.<br /><br />Hello, my name is Rebecca and I SUCK AT EATING WITH CHOPSTICKS.<br /><br />I always have, and I probably always will, since I’m 35 years old and old dog, new tricks, yadda yadda yadda.<br /><br />Somehow I successfully manage to transport a couple of bites to my mouth without incident. And it was DELICIOUS, I tell you. So thanks Rachael. THANKS FOR NOTHING.<br /><br />Because I spent the next year-plus stressing over the fact that my Awkward Chopsticks™ were going to be exposed to America on national television.<br /><br />The bottom line is that no, they weren’t. My Awkward Chopsticks were masterfully edited out, but now I’m telling you, because... I don’t know why. I’m all about laughing at myself, I guess. And if ever there was an opportunity, this was it.<br /><br />If you didn’t catch it, visit <a href="http://www.rachaelrayshow.com/show/segments/view/brutally-honest-hair-advice/">Rachael’s site</a> for a clip of the reveal. You can see my embarrassing hair flip, but mercifully my chopstick-handling skills are minimized for your viewing pleasure.Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-34751151846858320772009-02-09T10:02:00.000-08:002009-02-09T10:06:19.548-08:00happy birthday, baby D!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTe5mtJQaS7_BiCDm3kZuqYQOQL3-dGgLeIeilIQzCzCPXurmonOIRxqQtRYmb4Pf4tsmYMlqYOOR5NB_bOQVLMIO42zRJdtCEBpQZfI64hgtLlSxJB2IJmDHPh4BjNOLcZQZS/s1600-h/delaney1yr.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTe5mtJQaS7_BiCDm3kZuqYQOQL3-dGgLeIeilIQzCzCPXurmonOIRxqQtRYmb4Pf4tsmYMlqYOOR5NB_bOQVLMIO42zRJdtCEBpQZfI64hgtLlSxJB2IJmDHPh4BjNOLcZQZS/s320/delaney1yr.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300860438196318370" border="0" /></a><br />I can't believe she is already a year old. These last twelve months have flown by. Seemingly overnight, she went from a tiny helpless baby to a big girl with three teeth, who stands up all by herself and laughs at anything and everything.<br /><br />I love this precious girl.Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-53172965519791882912009-02-05T10:51:00.000-08:002009-02-05T10:52:43.906-08:0025 thingsOriginally posted on Facebook, because I was tagged by 8,467 people to do this. I confess: I actually found it kinda fun.<br /><br />1. I have always lived in the suburbs of Southern California, but I fancy myself somewhat of a city girl.<br /><br />2. When I was little I was obsessed with horses. Really obsessed, like to the point that when I would come home from riding lessons, I would refuse to take a shower because I wanted to smell like horses. (Grown-up me says “Um, gross.)<br /><br />3. I am a klutz. Bella Swan’s got nothing on me.<br /><br />4. I am a former competitive swimmer. In fact, swimming represents the entirety of my athletic talent. See #3 above.<br /><br />5. My diehard addictions include coffee, Diet Coke, shoes and J. Crew.<br /><br />6. I also really like wine.<br /><br />7. And salty snacks. Especially chips. That are dipped in guacamole. And also dark chocolate.<br /><br />8. Evidently, I am hungry right now.<br /><br />9. I watch too much TV.<br /><br />10. All three of my most embarrassing moments involve glass being broken in humiliating circumstances. Did I mention my klutzitude?<br /><br />11. I won a spelling bee when I was in third grade. No, seriously. I am an excellent speller.<br /><br />12. My musical taste is, how shall we say, eclectic. Some of my more random likes include the Rent soundtrack and Anne Murray. I’M NOT ASHAMED.<br /><br />13. I have never really been a kid person, but thank God I have two of my own. They are fantastic.<br /><br />14. I hate being cold.<br /><br />15. Reading is my life’s passion and I am never happier than when I have a stack of unread books on my nightstand.<br /><br />16. My favorite books are The Brothers K by David James Duncan and A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving.<br /><br />17. I love going to the movies by myself. Actually, I love going to the movies at all and never get to, because of my aforementioned kids.<br /><br />18. I love for things to be uncluttered on the surface, but don’t open a drawer or closet at my house because you will be showered in junk a la Monica Gellar. Out of sight, out of mind!<br /><br />19. I have a terrible memory, but I usually remember people’s middle names. I find them intriguing.<br /><br />20. I am not good at using chopsticks. I’M JUST NOT. This one, I actually am kind of ashamed of. In fact, my awkward chopstick skills were once very nearly exposed on national television! True story.<br /><br />21. I also cannot shuffle a deck of cards properly. So being invited to a party with card-playing and sushi would strike anxiety into my heart. Although I really do love sushi.<br /><br />22. Ketchup is an overrated condiment.<br /><br />23. I will go to extreme lengths to avoid vomiting.<br /><br />24. I feel guilty about the fact that I rarely work out.<br /><br />25. I am an introvert at heart and hate being the center of attention, although I am not particularly shy.Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-29409476839126093202009-02-02T14:26:00.000-08:002009-02-02T14:27:34.324-08:00What would you do...… if you thought it was a good idea to take both your kids to Old Navy, or “Old Maybe” as your child may have called it, and your child threw a big old fit and wouldn’t listen to anything you said, and then when you got down on his level to talk to him about it, he then proceeded to HIT YOU?<br /><br />… and then, if you took away your child’s toy car because of the hitting, he started throwing a screaming fit while still in the store?<br /><br />… and then he hit you again?<br /><br />… and you then dumped your armful of clothes on the nearest display, did the extra-firm upper-arm grab to remove him from the scene and alert him that YOU MEAN BUSINESS, all while pushing the stroller with the other child in it, and he reaches out and hits you AGAIN?<br /><br />Now, mind you, these are all HYPOTHETICAL examples, because my children are perfect ANGELS, especially the one who happens to be THREE and fiercely INDEPENDENT.<br /><br />I am just wondering, in the off chance that one of you unlucky saps has been through this. Because I have this friend...Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-27799582141148058192009-01-27T09:50:00.001-08:002009-01-27T09:50:31.761-08:00updateSo! It was a double ear infection – can you believe it? All this time I was convinced that my poor little baby was suffering from bronchitis or pneumonia, or had somehow turned into a 30-year smoker with emphysema overnight. But no. Instead, both her ears are infected, and her head is so full of mucus that it is draining and making her cough.<br /><br />SAD.<br /><br />These kids, I tell ya. They are a mystery. Anyway, she is now loaded up on Amoxicillin and I’m sure will be back to 100% healthy in no time. <br /><br />Onward! I’m back in the office today, thankfully, because usually when I’m here I can control my desire to eat everything in sight. Don’t get me wrong, everyone who knows me from Twitter is well aware that I crave Fritos regularly, but when the Fritos craving hits me at home, I will rummage through my pantry and eat half a box of mint Joe-Joe’s or See’s molasses chips instead.<br /><br />(Yes. That really happened.)<br /><br />Obviously, being at the office has its drawbacks too. Like people in the restroom stall next to you, who are tapping away on their BlackBerry WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY SITTING ON THE TOILET. Now, that doesn’t seem as bad to me as the person at my old office who would floss her teeth in the stall every day after lunch, earning herself the nickname of The Pot Flosser, but GROSS.<br /><br />(Yes. That also really happened.)<br /><br />With that lovely sentiment, I will leave you to your Tuesday. Enjoy. And thanks for stopping by. But mostly, stay classy.Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-67615210227278763402009-01-26T10:19:00.000-08:002009-01-26T10:30:07.391-08:00good, bad, ugly<strong>The bad news:</strong><br />I'm home with the poor sick little Delaney today. She is coughing so much, it's just sad. In fact, she coughed so hard over the weekend that she made herself hurl. Twice. It was truly disgusting. Anyway, I got her a doctor's appointment this afternoon, so until then, we are chilling together and spending a mellow day at home.<br /><br /><br /><strong>The good news:</strong><br />Even though my baby is sick, I got dressed instead of schlumping around in yoga pants and Uggs. (Side note: I now have that song "Humpin' Around" in my head. Thanks, self. Who sings that?) Anyway, the good thing about that is that I am getting so much more done and feel better wearing jeans, a sweater and flats rather than a spit-up stained sweatshirt. I guess those people (e.g. MY MOTHER) who always lecture you about how you feel as good as you look might actually be onto something. Go figure.<br /><br />Case in point... check out my new flats that I am wearing today. Do you love them? I do!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGKUf-lXhhZj3S1vse_dA1ELRkf6oQat3diVxJfeO6CPaD4VgMqT_OmWOs5_kCx206rk08VcBusm0Irh-2FWjunRvLV1mY8lwy95LdEnddKDQ4lxOUihsoGJVeCpaaRYOfz_LM/s1600-h/flats.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295670874640557618" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGKUf-lXhhZj3S1vse_dA1ELRkf6oQat3diVxJfeO6CPaD4VgMqT_OmWOs5_kCx206rk08VcBusm0Irh-2FWjunRvLV1mY8lwy95LdEnddKDQ4lxOUihsoGJVeCpaaRYOfz_LM/s200/flats.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>The Ugly:</strong><br />So far, I have eaten a cereal bar, a bagel with cream cheese, three See's molasses chips and three cups of coffee. Somebody, help me stop consuming the contents of my snack drawer QUICK.Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-63085999363635969362009-01-21T09:13:00.001-08:002009-01-21T09:13:45.469-08:00Conversations with 3-year olds: Inauguration EditionYesterday was an amazing and historic day. Even at my son’s preschool, they watched the inauguration on TV. When I picked him up, we had a conversation that went a little something like this:<br /><br />Me: “What did you think of the inauguration?”<br /><br />Evan: “I saw Barack Obama!”<br /><br />Me: “What was he doing?”<br /><br />Evan: “He was talking!”<br /><br />Me: “What did he do when he finished talking?”<br /><br />Evan: “He got in the car and drove across town. Mommy, did you know that Barack Obama lives in a white house?”<br /><br />Me: “Yes.”<br /><br />Evan: “We live in a white house too!”<br /><br />Me: “Yes, we do. But Barack Obama’s house is special because that is where the President of the United States lives.”<br /><br />Evan: “Our white house is special too.”<br /><br />Me: “Um… yes it is.” (I can’t really argue with that one.)<br /><br />I hope he remembers this day… I know I will.Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-17290977876868642272009-01-19T09:07:00.000-08:002009-01-19T09:08:38.892-08:00call me crazyLast week there was some chatter on Twitter about the proper way to eat a grilled cheese sandwich.<br /><br />(Extra grilled, preferably with tomatoes inside, dipped in hot sauce. OBVS.)<br /><br />But this made me think. Despite my many food vices – love of Diet Coke, chocolate, Fritos and all things salty – there are a couple of things that I could easily live without: ketchup and ice cream.<br />Don’t get me wrong, I like ketchup and ice cream. But I could happily live my entire life without eating either one. Ketchup is not necessary for French fries. In fact, I am a French fry purist. Just the delicious potatoey goodness with a light sprinkling of salt, please.<br /><br />And ice cream? Sure, it’s good, and we usually have it at home because my husband loves it. It’s just not my dessert of choice. (Let’s not talk about cupcakes and brownies, because CANNOT. RESIST.)<br /><br />What about you – what could you live without?Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-42875974549297081982009-01-16T10:51:00.000-08:002009-01-16T11:00:04.543-08:00mama's girl<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDUmJLkw3aXbSOJn8atZ4yD6w9mkiGB3GSNBGvvrwHR6GGovfXkGYYj_2vsBEIh3HrzXkbRs1R0UYdQme7CWVQRNzpvEeftvIFikMbUokI-vlSyT_xFSsQZrJ1DnIYORCYKT01/s1600-h/photo.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291968245943929698" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDUmJLkw3aXbSOJn8atZ4yD6w9mkiGB3GSNBGvvrwHR6GGovfXkGYYj_2vsBEIh3HrzXkbRs1R0UYdQme7CWVQRNzpvEeftvIFikMbUokI-vlSyT_xFSsQZrJ1DnIYORCYKT01/s200/photo.jpg" border="0" /></a> I apologize in advance for the mushy goo I am about to spill right now. But I want to remember this.<br /><br />Today I was walking my daughter into her daycare. I was holding her warm, solid little 11-month old self and listening to her babble. She looked at me with her gummy, two-toothed smile, rested her head on my shoulder and patted me on the arm as we walked. The sun was warm and I was filled with gratitude.<br /><br />The second child sometimes gets the short end. There are fewer photos, and there are fewer firsts, but there is much more. More appreciation: of the fact that she is entirely her own person, of the fact that time is fleeting. I don’t know what the future holds for her, but I wish and hope and pray for only good.<br /><br />Right now, I know that she holds onto my wrist while she is drinking her bottle. She rests her head on my chest and sucks her thumb. I tickle her chubby thighs, I feel the brush of her dandelion hair on my cheek and I want to freeze time if only for a moment, to fully appreciate what I have.<br /><br />She is a mama’s girl, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-41243761255717227982009-01-12T11:01:00.000-08:002009-01-12T11:08:53.673-08:00things I am currently thankful forThis is kind of loosely based on that whole Grace in Small Things that <a href="http://www.whoorl.com/">Whoorl </a>has been doing, but who are we kidding, we both know that I lack the follow-through on that sort of thing. Mine would more accurately be titled “Things that I am thankful for that I might feel the need to notify the internet about twice a year or so.” But anyway: onward!<br /><br /><strong>The return of 24.</strong> Jack Bauer is about to single-handedly save the world from terrorism again and I have a front-row seat. Or just DVR. Whatever. YAY JACK!!<br /><br /><strong>Sister night.</strong> My sister lives 45 minutes away but we get together as often as possible. Last Thursday we met to go shopping (we had <a href="http://www.anthropologie.com/">Anthropologie </a>gift cards from Christmas burning holes in our respective purses!) and closed out a successful shopping trip with beer, dumplings and crispy green beans from PF Changs. Seriously, if you have not tried the crispy green beans, you need to. RUN, DON’T WALK. But anyway, my sister is one of the most amazing people I know. She is beautiful, she is talented, she is fantastic in every way and if I didn’t love her, I would surely hate her.<br /><br /><strong>Braised short ribs.</strong> We had friends over on Saturday night and made <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/dave-lieberman/braised-hoisin-beer-short-ribs-with-creamy-mashed-yukons-and-sesame-snow-peas-recipe/index.html">this</a>. It was as if I had died and gone to heaven. Meat and potatoes, yum!<br /><br /><strong>Ticklish babies.</strong> Is there a better sound in the entire world than that of a baby really and truly belly laughing? I submit to you that there is not.<br /><br /><strong>Trader Joe's Candy Cane Joe-Joe's.</strong> These are like peppermint bark in a cookie format. Probably my favorite cookie of all time, bar none. I have discovered a shared love of this magical cookie with <a href="http://www.alphababy.net/">Andrea </a>and we have been twittering each other about it nonstop. Actually, I probably shouldn't tell you about it because that way, there will be more for me.<br /><br />Allrighty! Have a lovely Monday, internet.Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-28910185839448971342009-01-06T09:09:00.000-08:002009-01-06T09:10:32.877-08:00a new leafI’m not sure what happened there. Somehow, time got away from me and I have been so wrapped up in work, and the kids, and Twitter (OKAY I ADMIT IT) that I have been neglecting this site something fierce. But it IS a new year, and although I don’t have anything really specific that I resolve to do or stop doing this year, I have been starting to feel pretty guilty about never writing anymore.<br /><br />I’ve also been thinking about contentment. I honestly feel that I am a truly happy and blessed person. I have a home, an awesome husband, two beautiful and hilarious kids and a great job. 2008 was a year of really good things for us. My daughter was born (11 months ago today HOW ON EARTH DID THE TIME FLY BY SO FAST?), my husband had some good things happen to him at work and I was able to reduce my hours in the office to spend afternoons with the kids. But despite all these blessings in my life, somehow my mind is always buzzing for the next thing. The next plan, the next activity, the next to-do list… I am never happy unless I am feeling productive. I have to be multi-tasking: doing the dishes, making tomorrow’s coffee, writing a list of the things I need to do, or pack, or buy. I have a real problem with just sitting down. Sitting still. Taking a few minutes to look around me and be thankful and content with all I have.<br /><br />Because I have absolutely everything – everything that matters.<br /><br />And that is what I want to do in 2009: appreciate everything that I have, because I am truly a lucky and blessed individual.Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-29104415272949845942008-10-16T12:03:00.000-07:002008-10-22T14:08:28.024-07:00turtles!We are back from Hawaii. Hawaii can be summed up in one word. <div><div><br /><div>Awesome. </div><br /><div>We had a fantastic time, and somehow it was one of the most fun, yet least relaxing vacations I've ever been on. The fun was compliments of our family and the awesomeness of Hawaii, and the not-relaxing was compliments of my two lovely children. All in all, they were great, but there were some times I would have rather been drinking a mai tai in the sun than trying to get someone out of a tantrum at a restaurant. I'm just saying. </div><br /><div>But oh well! What can you do. I have never seen such beautiful beaches and we saw sea turtles at every single one. Check out some of the evidence, compliments of my sister-in-law Ryann.<br /></div><div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcT3wBOe3o4ZFRsRhWMrBlSZA98Eei2pASWrlB_DduOMEazbQf_IR_-oP9Rr5aPqJNDIk4jIZuECBwvGF4UEzxxH0O7nyu_vAgAmipKeMJqriZPxOQpDb6gL83RKw8ahyphenhyphenELitn/s1600-h/11.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260087681296631682" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcT3wBOe3o4ZFRsRhWMrBlSZA98Eei2pASWrlB_DduOMEazbQf_IR_-oP9Rr5aPqJNDIk4jIZuECBwvGF4UEzxxH0O7nyu_vAgAmipKeMJqriZPxOQpDb6gL83RKw8ahyphenhyphenELitn/s320/11.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNdL748C6-UPYOFA4xouY7jJX_HdANxnmXaYc67UCo1cPRmVmbvWPq7crZkC664gsD79pMfcwg5BwJCrnb9txHtxbUU9VS9-vF0CPXp5WCSZwCmSV7wQVtmAGblfeGTj8LA4nY/s1600-h/17A.JPG"></a></div></div></div>Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-25063411203422359562008-09-30T10:57:00.000-07:002008-09-30T10:58:18.355-07:00vacay!If I’ve been a little quiet lately it is because I am getting ready for vacation. Next week, we are going to… wait for it…<br /><br />Hawaii!<br /><br />I am excited because I’ve never been there. I have been to Jamaica, and the Bahamas, and Mexico, and Puerto Rico, but never Hawaii. We are going to the big island because my brother-in-law has qualified for the Ironman triathlon, also known in Bearca’s world as the Maybe Just a Little Bit Insane Man. I know, let’s swim 2.4 miles! Then let’s ride 112 miles on a bike! And when we are done with that, let’s run a marathon! I am a good swimmer and I know I could do the swim, and I could probably run a marathon if I trained hard enough, but I am a horrific bike rider. I should clarify that I did run a half-marathon once, and after it was over I instructed my family to stop me from ever attempting it again. Thus ending my potential Ironman bid.<br /><br />But I digress. We are going to cheer Dave’s brother on and I couldn’t be more excited. Go Uncle Steve!<br /><br />But the packing… I am already stressed about the packing. I have a spreadsheet, and a list of items that need to be purchased before we leave, and a list of errands that need to be run. Traveling with two small children requires a level of preparedness and boredom-avoiding tactics that I’m not sure I’m yet prepared for.<br /><br />Plus, there was an incident a couple of weeks ago where Evan’s Leapster was fatally wounded. If you must know, he had an accident and peed on it. I changed the batteries, but the Leapster didn’t survive the liquid assault. Do I buy a new one, or just rely on DVD entertainment? Help! <br /><br />So, wish me luck. I will be burying my head in lists and spreadsheets ensuring that we have everything we might need for a six-hour flight. Any advice?Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-81515445212678284002008-09-22T13:25:00.000-07:002008-09-22T13:28:14.782-07:00OK, so...If you have been here, like, ever, you already know that I suck at updating this blog.<br /><br />But do you know what my little daughter doesn't suck at? Mesmerizing you with her ridiculously blue eyes.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_iUbBGMHvL7icOscLkIIHAD2gLT6bdDBD6w2Iiu6S5MwBj2k3Wcd92d7KWlX0ECzICFDgJmCymOBwl_wDDtr_A0iCH95wsc9Qbs_rhT4AhMR6hfUxtlHBKo7HGwHyl1ibzujp/s1600-h/Delaney.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248944654400743426" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_iUbBGMHvL7icOscLkIIHAD2gLT6bdDBD6w2Iiu6S5MwBj2k3Wcd92d7KWlX0ECzICFDgJmCymOBwl_wDDtr_A0iCH95wsc9Qbs_rhT4AhMR6hfUxtlHBKo7HGwHyl1ibzujp/s320/Delaney.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Yes, she's also turned into a thumb-sucker. CUTE.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbdy6j8PmfAdplI2qdCg5daNb8JGw23brXwxiEmC1GTfzcFkisnkFerdkpRIVWaAP_m-q66CeeqVsOoLFlv8hBSXZsnXiHvJ_qmsl9wTXQCcV2MC2leoLV_rJs7CwZGxYLT7T_/s1600-h/delaney+blue+eyes.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248944653921811874" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbdy6j8PmfAdplI2qdCg5daNb8JGw23brXwxiEmC1GTfzcFkisnkFerdkpRIVWaAP_m-q66CeeqVsOoLFlv8hBSXZsnXiHvJ_qmsl9wTXQCcV2MC2leoLV_rJs7CwZGxYLT7T_/s320/delaney+blue+eyes.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />That is all. Happy Monday.Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-47941743281318578252008-09-11T11:28:00.000-07:002008-09-11T11:34:10.343-07:00cocktails, anyone?I would like to present to you the official Chronology of Awesomeness that has befallen me in the last few days.<br /><br />First, last week, I got a speeding ticket. I was rushing home to meet a window cleaning company and knew I was already going to be five minutes late. I was allegedly going 61 in a 45 zone. ALLEGEDLY. And of course, after everything was said and done, I was 25 minutes late instead. Hi! Nice to meet you! I am the poster child for why you should not speed in order to get somewhere on time!<br /><br />And when you get a speeding ticket in the presence of a 3-year old, it turns into 20 questions. Here are just a few:<br /><br />"Why is the policeman talking to you?"<br />"Why are we stopping?"<br />"Why is the policeman driving a motorcycle?"<br />"Did you do something wrong?"<br />...<br /><br />What I said was more or less "Yes. Mommy is in trouble because I was going too fast. Now I am getting a ticket, which is kind of like a time-out for grownups."<br /><br />What I wanted to say was "Uh-huh. The cop was hiding in the bushes on his motorcycle, lying in wait in what appeared to be, at best, a dubiously legal speed trap. So Mommy is going to fight The Man on this one."<br /><br />But I figured that might go over his head a bit.<br /><br />Then, two days ago, my car started making a groaning noise when I turn. I took it in this morning and just got a call from the service advisor. Here’s a brief transcript of the call.<br /><br />Service Advisor: Hi. We know what’s wrong with your car.<br /><br />Me: ???<br /><br />Service Advisor: The rack and pinion steering has a leak. It will be $882 to fix that and realign the car.<br /><br />Me: (stunned silence)<br /><br />Service Advisor: Also, your battery failed the test. So that will be another $135.<br /><br />Me: (more stunned silence)<br /><br />Service Advisor: And your tires are starting to go. I highly recommend new tires.<br /><br />Me: (…)<br /><br />Service Advisor: So, with your oil change and everything we’re up to $1,065. Do you have Triple A?<br /><br />Me: Yes! (feeling hopeful that this will net me some sort of magical 50% off discount)<br /><br />Service Advisor: Oh, great, that’ll get you $50 off.<br /><br />Me: Oh.<br /><br />So, yeeeahh, I’m gonna need you to cheer me up right about now. Help a sister out. Tell me something good that I should be excited about! Please. I am desperate.Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-39891249247591859952008-09-08T13:51:00.000-07:002008-09-08T13:52:35.154-07:00reasons why I may in fact be a 68-year old woman1) I cannot watch the VMAs. Seriously. I tried watching them last night and I barely knew who anyone was, nor did I understand 75% of the crazy-haired host’s references. I don’t even know who that guy was and why he was wearing skintight leggings with boots. <br /><br />2) I get irritated when I see people walking around with inappropriate undergarments. I really do. Black bra underneath a white tank top? If you’re Madonna, OK. But if you’re a teenager hanging out in suburban Orange County, NO. Get thee to Macy’s and get a nice nude-colored one. Oh, and while you’re there? Pick up a slip because your skirt is see-through. <br /><br />3) I actually use the phrase “kids these days.” <br /><br />4) I really enjoy eating dinner at 5:00 p.m. <br /><br />I’m sure there are more, and I’ll update you when I think of them. But right now, I need to go take my Geritol so it will digest before my early bird dinner.Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-26488203065188364972008-09-03T14:05:00.001-07:002008-09-03T14:05:57.716-07:00saturday intersectionSummer, 1982<br /><br />I’m sitting in the backseat of my parents’ car – a 1973 Chevy Malibu. It’s the hottest day of summer and the backs of my legs stick to the black vinyl seats while I try to avoid touching the sharp scratchy place where the upholstery is torn. No one had air conditioning back then, so we hang our heads out the window like dogs to catch the breeze. I smell coconut. It’s the suntan lotion on my skin, the syrup coating my shave ice. We beg to go faster up the hill, the hill with the giant bumps that make you feel like you’re flying. We giggle furiously, the wind blowing our hair.<br /><br />Summer, present day<br /><br />It’s the same place, the same hot weather, the same scene – but I’m the one driving the car. This time we drive past the ocean, watching the surfers, seeing the waves on the other side of the rocks. I smell coffee, and I hear giggling, but this time it’s not my sister, but my little boy. He sits in the back, saying “Faster, Mommy, faster!” as I turn up the hill and hit the gas with every bump. I wonder, what of this will he remember?Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-28421172122735527492008-08-26T09:09:00.000-07:002008-08-26T09:12:13.047-07:00overreactionI am having the most unbelievably crappadocious morning. Let me preface this post by telling you that the story I am about to relay is COMPLETELY MY FAULT. I know this, and I own up to this, but I still must vent. People, man. PEOPLE.<br /><br />So I was dropping off the kids at their various daycares and preschools this morning. Delaney’s daycare is in a condo complex, which means the parking situation is less than ideal. There is one designated spot where the parents are supposed to park while they are doing the drop-off. If that spot is taken, then I guess you are supposed to park on the street. This morning, of course, that spot was taken. So I had a decision to make: make a big, time-consuming loop and park on the street, or park in one of the other empty spots assuming the people who own those spots are already off to work.<br /><br />Ill-fatedly, I chose the latter. I knew it was a risk, but I was going to be parked there for all of five minutes and didn’t anticipate a problem.<br /><br />HOW WRONG I WAS.<br /><br />When I came out of the daycare, I saw that the car who normally parks in the spot I had taken was parked behind me with the hazards on.<br /><br />Crap.<br /><br />I had Evan with me and we had no option but to get in the car and wait. I didn’t know which condo the car belonged to and even if I did, my sense of guilt and shame would have prevented me from knocking on the door and asking them to move the car when it was clearly my fault for parking there in the first place.<br /><br />So we waited.<br /><br />And waited.<br /><br />And while we were waiting, an older couple came out of their condo and I saw them shaking their heads and cluck-clucking at me. I could hear every word they said (come on, it’s a car with glass windows, not a soundproof booth). The woman said sadly, “Oh no. Someone parked in her spot,” and continued shaking her head to show her disapproval.<br /><br />Meanwhile, among all the obvious judgment, I had figured out which condo the car behind me belonged to. It was straight ahead of me and there was a lady in there who kept looking out her kitchen window. She appeared to be doing her dishes or something but she was moving SLOWER THAN MOLASSES and kept peeking outside her window, leading me to believe that she was the one.<br /><br />Finally she emerged – after 15 minutes. I rolled down my window, smiled at her and said “I’m REALLY sorry! This was totally my fault!” She just looked at me and stared at me with a death glare. Then, Angry Condo Parking Lot Lady walked back to her car and proceeded to take an extended look to make sure that I hadn’t tried to hit her car or anything. At this point I became somewhat enraged. I knew what I had done wrong and I had apologized to ACPLL and received absolutely no response. She had clearly parked behind me to teach me a lesson and was not going to let up until she was good and done. And meanwhile, was going to continue looking at me every 30 seconds or so to give me the death glare. You know, in case I did not know she was good and angry.<br /><br />Meanwhile, I am trying to talk to Evan. He kept asking “Why are we not moving?” and I said “Mommy parked in this lady’s spot and now I can’t move because her car is blocking mine.” He said “That lady does not look happy.”<br /><br />Welcome to the understatement of the year.<br /><br />After her complete inspection of her car, ACPLL got in her car, took an exceedingly long time turning on the engine and getting settled, and drove away.<br /><br />Have I mentioned that I totally understand this was my fault??? Because I do. But I also know that it’s not like I ran over her dog. If I was her, I probably would have been irritated too, and she had every right to be. But if I had been in her place and someone had given me a sincere apology, I probably would have gone on my way and not harbored such an obvious and unnecessary grudge.<br /><br />Help me understand here: am I crazy? Who overreacted here, her or me?Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8655824.post-42204256766460132482008-08-21T09:04:00.000-07:002008-08-21T09:05:22.647-07:00change of plansI have recently come to terms with the fact that I am simply not a spontaneous person. I like to have A Plan, and I like to stick to That Plan. Typically my plans involve lots of mental preparation, some list-making (dear Lord, do I love making lists) and often, a reluctance to change. I think part of it is that I have two small children, and leaving the house at any time requires a military level of precision and preparedness, but only recently have I embraced the fact that it’s also just my personality. I am obsessed with being prepared and knowing what’s next at all times so I have time to wrap my mind around it.<br /><br />(sidebar: wow. That makes me sound really fun. YOU SHOULD ALL WANT TO PARTY WITH ME.)<br /><br />So imagine my surprise when Dave called me at 4:45 pm yesterday and said “Guess what! We just got two free tickets to the Dave Matthews concert tonight at Staples Center – and they’re in a private suite!” Now I can appreciate free concert tickets as much as the next gal, but due to my confessed lack of spontaneity I was like “But who will watch the children?” and “But the housekeeper is coming tomorrow, when are we going to pick up all our clutter?” and “But I really wanted to dismantle the baby swing tonight!” (see above re: how much you should want to party with me.)<br /><br />Now, Dave is a really fun guy, and lacks my resistance to spontaneity. He launched a campaign: “But it’ll be fun! We never get to go out! When will we ever have this opportunity again?” All arguments that I could not disagree with. So, thanks to Dave’s sister who agreed to stay with the kids (yay Aunt Ryann!), off we went like the carefree, spontaneous couple we totally aren't.<br /><br />And guess what? We had a fabulous time. The concert was OK – we have seen DMB before and loved it, and this time was not quite as good, but who cares? We were sitting in free seats, with free food and free drinks, on a Wednesday night, while SOMEONE ELSE was at home supervising the kids.<br /><br />And no, I didn’t get to pick up the clutter or dismantle the baby swing. Thank goodness. <br /><br />(**Shameless plea: if you know me in person, could you please vouch for the fact that I CAN BE fun and not a total stick in the mud? Thanks.)Bearcahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837658618369584260noreply@blogger.com5