Wednesday, April 29, 2009


...needs me to take them shopping. Honestly, John. Call me. What you lack in discretion, I'm sure you make up for with your charming personality. But really. We can do better.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Don't open that

I've developed a type of mail-phobia. It came about fairly innocently. And it doesn't involve packages. I love getting boxes in the mail, especially those with Amazon on them.

My fear is of large envelopes. Large envelopes that contain flat people in them. Flat Stanley. Flat Will. It doesn't matter how you spin it. Don't send me Flat Child in the mail and ask me to tote him around town and take pictures of him. I've done my time.

Actually, if you don't care what he's wearing, I can do a Flat Stanley or even your child, if he resembles my nephew Will. You don't even have to mail me anything. Just send me an email or call and I'll send you off a packet of Flat Stan or Flat Will or Flat Joe (if he looks like Will). I've got the Publisher file saved in my computer. It just might take me a day or two to get it put together and in the mail.

All I ask is that the next time you see me, you take me out for a drink--tea, wine, doesn't matter. And you consider yourself fair game for when my daughter reads Flat Stanley at school and she needs you to reciprocate. I promise to give you advance notice.

But if you decide to send me--unannounced--a Flat Child in the mail, I don't accept responsibility for possibly feeding your Flat Child to the horses. I'm currently out of carrots.

Monday, April 20, 2009

School Pics

This is what happens when:

a) your mom forgets that it's picture day,

b) and the photographer figures it's best to cover your plain white polo by buttoning up your pretty pink cardigan to your neck, librarian-lady-style,

c) only after you've had recess and your once kinda cute ponytail is now coming down in clumps,

d) then the photographer person (who also works parttime at Taco Bell) makes you hold your arms in an awkward position best reserved for tantrums or rappers,

e) then asks you to say some word such as Walrus! in order to elicit the most unnatural smile you've ever expressed,

f) then prints off $44 worth of pictures, sending them home via your classroom folder, knowing your mom will buy some because, who can stand to think of her baby's pictures going through a shredder?

A scam? I'd say so.

Monday, April 6, 2009

New Look

Every year I get together with my girlfriends. Lucky for us, Leanna happens to be a professional photographer. This year she asked us to bring along jeans and a black turtleneck. (You can see by the picture, some of us don't follow directions as well as others. She didn't mind.) Sure beats trying to cram us all into one of those booths at the mall!

We've been friends for years and range in profession from attorney to accountant, photographer to teacher and everything in between. Of those pictured, we have a total of 23 children, which made traveling in the same vehicle a little scary. The bonds that unite us are many, the memories are vast, and we stay connected via emails and phone calls throughout the year. We all eagerly anticipate the annual weekend when we can get together, bridging the distance between us that now spans both coasts. (Traci, we sure missed you!)

I wish every woman could be as fortunate as I am to have such great friends.

Pictured, l to r: (front row) Trisha, Jennifer, Sonya, Terri, Leanna (back row) Lori and me.

PS: Leanna also graciously took a photo of me so I could update my blog mugshot. So I decided to update my blog look as well. Thanks, Leanna!

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Walk the line

After you have kids, you become a line walker.

You want them to do well in school but not obsess over grades so much that they develop ulcers and become social outcasts who can’t carry on a conversation without throwing in words such as congruent or onomatopoeia.

You hope they eat healthful foods, exercise and drink water without one day developing an eating disorder that has them spitting out half-chewed M&Ms in between marathon jumping jack sessions.

You also hope they develop their own sense of style—wearing clothes and hair styles that not necessarily define them but suit their personalities and interests.

But you walk the line that represents a normal, well-adjusted human being and on either side lies a child who obsesses over every test answer or just doesn’t give a flip.

On our walk home from school yesterday, my kindergartener fell abnormally quiet. I could tell she was distracted.

Me: What’s up?

She: (with a pained expression, leans into me and whispers) What is she wearing?

Me: (looking at the girl ahead of us—probably a fourth grader) Looks like a white shirt and white shorts.

She: Well, it looks weird.

Me: It’s just a shirt and a pair of shorts. What’s so weird?

She: (still frowning) It just is.

Me: Well, maybe her mom hasn’t done laundry lately and that’s all she had to wear. Or maybe it’s her favorite outfit. (her brothers have been casualties of both)

She: Well, she shouldn’t wear it. Doesn’t it look like she has on boy’s underwear?

Me: (wondering why she cares so much about this girl’s choice of clothes) I don’t think so. Besides, you shouldn’t worry about what she’s wearing. I’m sure she’s not.

She: I think she should worry if people think she’s going to school in boy’s underwear.

Me: (deciding this conversation needs diverting) Wow, look, Mia. A butterfly. I’ll bet that’s one you raised last year and released in the back yard.

She: It is. I recognize her. That’s Giselle.

Some time in the night, the child got out of bed and went through her closet and picked out clothing options for today. When I got her up and presented her with a dress to wear, she said, “That’s not what I’m wearing today. I already picked out my clothes.” She had two outfits beside the bed. A yellow skirt and top combo with horses on it and a pair of khakis and a shirt. We went with the horse ensemble.

Now I just hope if someone tells her she looks nice today, she says ‘thank you’ and then goes about getting her school work done. And if she happens to spot the fourth grade girl we saw yesterday, she realizes that the clothes don’t define the girl any more than the grades or the weight or the hair. And if she starts in again on the walk home from school, I can create a diversion. “Look, Mia. A lizard. Isn’t that the one that we see every night on the bathroom window…”

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Who is more delusional?

Michael Vick who estimates his annual income next year to be a cool $10 million?


My son who told me this morning he could so be an underwear model?

I'd say it's an even toss up.