choosing my own...

All About the LOVE

2012-01-21T07:32:00.001-08:00

Forgive me friends for I have sinned. It has been nearly 2 years since my last post. Much has changed. Much remains the same. Remembering how to even access my blogpost account brought me much surprise. Thought I'd give writing another try...

But first, a recap:

Went to Africa. Fell in love.

The twins grew up. Full of love.

Met a man. Fell in love.

Went to Africa again. Still in love.

Bought a house. Living in love.

Love has found me...love has been the way.

When You Just Know

2010-03-07T18:24:00.001-08:00

Swaziland

42.6 % = HIV/AIDS rate

29 = Life expectancy age

200,000 = orphans

15,000 = orphan-headed households

I must go.

Been holding this secret for some time.

Finally, my stirring has a home.

Heart for Africa has called on me. He has called on me.

Please stop by my trip page...

I am so humbled to join this mission. Much more to share, but can't hold the secret any longer.

Endurance

2010-02-12T12:48:00.000-08:00

When I squint, and look off into the distance, I just might be able to see it.

And then. It's gone.

If I hold my breath, close my eyes, pray, wish, daydream; I can almost reach it.

And then. I exhale.

I say it out loud. I say it to myself. I talk in my sleep.

And then. I awaken.

If I am honest with myself, I know that I want to live intimately. Need to live intimately. But in that honesty I realize that I may not know how. I long for closeness, and yet find paralysis in attention. I crave affection yet push away romance. I am alone, but not lonely. I am lonely, but not alone.

And perhaps only a woman can relate to the dissonance repeating in upending tones. Or maybe I shouldn't pull women into my madness. But why can't I make up my damn mind? Some days I feel so certain. Certain that I have made many mistakes. Certain that I will regret these mistakes. Certain that my longing will never cease. Other times I am equally certain that they are not mistakes, rather chapters which will ultimately lead to falling action and resolution.

I don't pretend there is a "happily ever after." I know better, and I dare not dream for such. However, there is a version, a version I can see...when my breathing slows and my mind clears, one that resembles the happy ending.

I don't fault myself for having optimism. Or even for living with doubt. It is through these questions that one day, I believe, I will find my truth.

Please...

2010-01-13T21:04:00.000-08:00

***UPDATED LINK***

What can we do to help?

Need Us.

My Apologies to the East Coast

2010-01-10T14:37:00.000-08:00

Ex Marks the Spot

2010-01-07T03:27:00.000-08:00

It deserves to be said, that I pretty much have the best ex-husband ever. I mean this in all sincerity. Ex-spouse is a term we tend to avoid; as it carries such negativity in its perception. We are co-parenting partners, and better yet, friends.

While the details of our situation remain private, it can be said that I find tremendous comfort in knowing that our children are in loving and capable hands, in either home. For this, I am entirely grateful. The friendship that has developed from living separately is intense, honest, uplifting, and just down-right cool.

It is our hope, that when we marry, it is forever. And while our forever comes wrapped in a very unique package, I do truly know that it is a forever built on love and mutual respect. {This can be said with a smile in my heart, maybe because we can send each other's ass a mile down the road when we disagree. Heh} As we redefine our forever, I am filled with a gratitude that our children will always be our greatest privilege and priority.

So today, Patrick... it should be said... thank you for being my forever.

{And yes, I'll take the dog again so you can go on a date, but can you trade days while I go to Vegas for a night, and sure let's go to the so-and-so's party together, and make sure you make her your delicious salmon, and yes I went out with that guy, and can you remember to get Chase a haircut, and sure I'll cut their toenails because I know that's hard for you, and thank you for getting the teachers' a gift and...}

And So It Is...

2010-01-05T19:31:00.000-08:00

Volume Control

2009-12-31T11:05:00.000-08:00

For a girl who sets the timer on the dishwasher so as not to hear it, and a girl who keeps the television at mice-like-decibels; a girl who goes into a different part of the house when the washer/dryer are running, and a girl who thinks that taking a bath would be perfect if only the water didn't make so much noise... it has been a noisy year.

I've turned up the volume.

And then?

Bought new speakers so as to make it even louder.

And then?

Bought a mega bass to amplify the commotion.

2009 has been deafening.

A welcome sound in my new journey.

Noise.

Racket.

Clammer.

Turmolt.

Commotion.

Anything to keep me from...

Listening.

Feeling.

Healing.

Facing.

Owning.

So, 2010, here we are.

You and me.

Deejay's not playing the same song.

2010 -- Resolve.

Mute.

Time to mute the clamor. Say no. Disappoint.

Walk away. Let go. Close doors.

Disc Select.

Select you. Select one. Select calm. Select quiet. Select games, crafts, laughing, reading, cuddling, patience, joy.

Pause.

Pause. Be patient. Wonder. Pray. Reflect. Slow down... slow it down girl.

Repeat.

Then do it again. Slower. With more kindness. Kindness for the girl you once were, the woman you are yet to become.

Shuffle.

Have fun. Shake it up. Relax. Dance. Smile. Play.

Source.

Get to know your source. YOUR source. YOUR soul. YOUR God. YOUR strength. YOUR peace.

Praying for a quiet melody in 2010.

Why I'm Sitting on the Couch on a Beautiful Day

2009-12-30T08:46:00.000-08:00

Dear Parents of Little Surf-Rat Toddler,

Do you have any idea just how cute I find your baby girl? With her 18-24 months skinny jeans, her checkered vans, and her silky, pink hoody? Clearly, you know she's cute. Clearly, she knows you know she's cute. And clearly this little peanut is winning battles at home. Her wispy bed-headed hair all tricked out with hints of, "No, dat my hay-er mama." "No bwush my hay-er." I just loved her instantly.

Which is why I scooped her up from the eight-kicking-legs of four-swinging-children at varying speeds and intervals. Twice. Her little diaper-padded, skinny jeaned bottom was toddling in a game of swing Frogger, and how she survived without getting cartoon-jettisoned over the monkey bars is beyond me. Which is why I toted her on my hip for a moment while I searched for the parent who must have been having a major emergency elsewhere with her other darling children.

Searching for the owner of the toddler, and pushing my own two kiddos on the swing, I carefully placed Little Miss Surfer Baby in a kinder spot on the playground. Until, she came back to the spider legs of the swings.

Scooping her up, again as her hair is grazed by a giant pumping of the feet, where is your mommy?, I ask?

Dat. Bah. La-lee-fing, she says (or something like that).

Dude, where is this kids' mommy? I wonder.

I begrudgingly place her down again near the slide, fearful of looking like some kidnapper. When sure enough a school-aged boy playing a game of I'm not watching where I'm running smacks straight into my new little surfer friend.

And...cue concerned parent. Here you come. Racing (well, trying to race in your Victoria's Secret lace-up ankle boots) to her rescue.

And cue...dirty look. To me. WTH?

And cue...me wondering if it was your Blackberry or your stilettos in the sand that impeded your graceful parenting.

And cue...school aged kids' mom getting a mouthful of why weren't you watching your kid as he bulldozed over my baby?

And cue...jaw-dropping of school aged kids' mom.

And cue...me convincing the kids that watching Sponge Bob, at home is way more fun than swinging.

It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like...CPS

2009-12-23T22:21:00.000-08:00

This time of year can be very stressful for parents. We're shopping, and driving, and parking, and baking. We wrap, we clean, we eat, we gather, we plan, we host, we create. We keep the myth of Santa alive. We move elves from room-to-room. We forget to move elves from room-to-room. We send cards, take photos, hang cards, forget to take photos. We stand in line, entertain, buy stamps, buy wrapping paper, buy more wrapping paper, and remind children of the true nature of the season.

And all through it, we d-r-a-g our patient little ones from place to place so that we may better spread our Christmas cheer.

So when threats run out, and elves aren't watching, and you have to go back to the supermarket for the 15twentieth time...you might want to try a little trick involving, oh, say...shackling your children like the prisoners they are, and chaining their hineys to the cart.

Case in point:

Two Willing Participants

A little bit of (toy) chain.

One cart.

God only knows what they're doing here.

Voila: One happy mama (and a friendly neighbor in ~~disgust~~ admiration).

My mad parenting skillz worked tonight, yo.

My Grateful Heart

2009-12-04T23:06:00.000-08:00

Part of the Journey

2009-12-01T06:33:00.000-08:00

A loving person

lives in

a loving world.

A hostile person

lives in

a hostile world.

Everyone you meet

is your mirror.

-Ken Keyes Jr.

Handbook to Higher Consciousness

Success is a journey
not a destination -
half the fun is getting there.

-Gita Bellin

A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving

2009-11-29T18:06:00.001-08:00

Thanksgiving 2009:

My first holiday without the kids, teetering between sadness and aloof. I decided that I would do nothing. In my plan, I needed to lie to everyone so no one actually knew that I was alone.

"I'm going to my Mom's," I told friends.

"I'm going to my friend's," I told my mom.

"I'm going to Patrick's," I told my colleagues.

I just knew that I needed to feel the rawness of this divorce on this holiday. Although Patrick and I get along extremely well, this Thanksgiving did not include plans to co-mingle. I sincerely craved the calm the comes with being alone. Eating Chinese food from a paper box would have suited me just fine.

I was choosing an UnThanksgiving, but little did I know, Thanksgiving would still come, Charlie Brown.

Some of you know of my new friendship with Little Tommy. When my favorite radio show went off the air in August, I emailed the producer. Within 40 seconds, he wrote back. Within and hour, we were on the phone. Within days, I was watching his son skateboard. We've been hanging out ever since. A surprising friend and ally in my life, I decided to hang out with Tommy on Thanksgiving, but just for a little while, I told myself. After all, I wanted to be alone.

He took me to meet his 83 year old mom. If you've ever listened to the show, you know that meeting his mom is bigger than the Oscar's. It was an honor to be invited. However, we were just going to hang out for a little while. Dinner would be served at his sister's house, and surely I would be home, wearing sweatpants, and eating Chinese food by then.

And then, I was greeted warmly by a house full of relatives situated around the most angelic woman you could imagine. Attached to a feeding tube, but sitting strongly with love beaming from within, was Rosa.

[me, Rosa (83), Auntie Ding (94), Tommy]

And that's when it happened. I was at the mercy of the beautiful moment, and I was hanging on tightly. Being a quiet observer of Tommy tenderly lifting his mom into his car, watching he and his sister 'sneak' small bites of mashed potatoes to wet the palette of a woman fed by tube, and being lovingly included in a traditional family meal just about broke my heart. Or healed it.

I wasn't looking for Thanksgiving, but Thanksgiving found me.

(Another) Ego Boost

2009-11-20T20:07:00.000-08:00

It's so worth it!

When Strength is all I Have, And Time is all I Need (Or Vice Versa)

2009-11-19T21:24:00.002-08:00

I turn inward.

It is my my tendency.

My frequency.

My channel.

I question upward.

It is my destiny.

My gravity.

My journey.

I fumble forward.

Impatiently.

Searching.

For my certainty.

I glance backward.

It is my wondering.

My anxiety.

My clarity.

Predictably Predictable

2009-11-08T14:42:00.000-08:00

When you get so forgetful that you even forget that you have forgotten things...perhaps you start to look a little like this.

First, you forget to pay your rent. Yes. Rent. That's what happens when you've had a husband pay the mortgage forever, and you forget that, like, it costs money to live places.

Then, when you're driving to meet your landlord to pay the rent, you realize that you forgot your friend's birthday. Yesterday.

That night, on your way to visit your out-of-town friend in a neighboring county, you see your gas light go on. On the one stretch of Interstate 5 that is dedicated to the military. For 19 miles. You drive faster because you're pretty sure that even though this uses gas less efficiently, the time saved on heart attack symptoms may just save your life.

And when things get reeeeally stressful, there's really just one more thing to do: rearrange the furniture. Then, put it back in exactly the same place. Because? It turns out that "L" shaped sofas really don't work out so well in creative juxtapositions with walls and tables.

Clearly, it is Report Card time. And clearly, I have not done them at all. Not one. How can you tell? Because I'm finally blogging again. And if there's one thing I'm good at, it's procrastinating. And forgetting. If only I could forget to procrastinate.

Go Clean Your Room

2009-10-08T21:05:00.000-07:00

...it did get awfully quiet in there...

...until the launching off Mount Headboard, that is...

(P.S. What the hell is wrong with my camera?)

What? A Girl's Got to Accessorize?

2009-09-28T21:53:00.000-07:00

There are definitely some advantages to living without a man in the house. My own closet. My own stash of ice cream. Pink sheets. Violet sheets. Flowery sheets. Watching whateverthehellIwant on TV.

And then? There are those moments where I reeeeeaaaally could use a man.

Take for example the sweet and serene scene of a Mom gently tucking her little boy into bed. She lovingly pulls back the sheets, gathers all of his favorite stuffed creatures, plumps the pillows in just the right... HOLY SHIT WHAT IS THAT ON HIS PILLOW?

...

I'm pretty sure it looked more like this, actually:

What's a Mom to do...but scream? Duh. Then, ask children to hurrythefuckup and run and get a shoe. I figure I'm best suited to keep an eye on the thing (although I really couldn't have missed the dragon-sized-beast feverishly crawling on my son's pillow) while the youngins' run and fetch me a weapon.

"Hurry please. Go get me a shoe."

"Where?"

"In my closet. Hurry. Quick. Shoe."

....

...

"Hellooooo? Just get a shoe. Any shoe. Quickly."

"Tatum," (I think Chase spotted some legos or something far more interesting along the way) "Where are you?"

"Mommy, I'm tryyyyyying."

...

"Tatum, I can't take my eye off this thing. Just.Grab.A.Shoe.Right.Now."

About 40twentyhundred16 minutes later, she shows up with a lovely red ballet flat. One which I know damn well was not the most conveniently located shoe in the closet. In fact, it would have taken some perusing, reaching, tippy-toes, major yoga moves to find that shoe.

It's a shoe she has had a penchant for borrowing once before.

Apparently, a it's an innate sense that a girl must always choose exactly the right shoe for every event.

Dumbo

2009-09-26T17:32:00.000-07:00

A certain little birthday girl and birthday boy just turned one whole hand's worth of 1-2-3-4-5! Holy Moly. Five?!

Maybe it's the nostalgia of creating family five years ago. Maybe it's spending the day at "The Happiest Place on Earth." And maybe I'm just all kinds of mixed up and wacky. Maybe.

Or maybe, maybe our divorce will save our marriage.

There's a certain comfort in being a family of four. There's a certain peace in being able to communicate better now, than in the past months...years. There's a certain insanity when an (ex) husband and wife share dating stories with one another.

Although there are no certain answers, we have found a way to continue to grow. As individuals. As a couple. For this, I am grateful. Grateful and entirely crazy. Who knows what will be ahead. But damn, I could really use a map right now...

...'cause I'm feeling kinda Dumbo.

My iPhone Broke My Heart

2009-09-14T19:45:00.000-07:00

I dropped my phone once today in the parking lot outside of school. Thanks to the (new) case, it was just fine. Whew!

Then, I dropped it again on the hardwood floors at Patrick's while I was picking up the kids. This time, I wasn't so lucky. Dead. Nothin'.

Then, I brought it home to try and give it some love, and I dropped it again on the tile floor.

Now...it's so not responding. I tried CPR. I tried that AED thingie that you see on walls in public places. I tried putting it on my pillow and singing softly. All to no avail.

Shit.

I want my phone.

I neeeeeed my phone.

I hear it ringing.

I hear that cute little sound when I get a text.

But the damn screen won't light up.

So, until I get to the Apple store (Read: I'm going after school tomorrow to the Apple store), I think I'm out of luck.

Fortunately, I still have my laptop to keep me company. How is it that I went all the way through college without a cellphone? And now? I'm hyperventilating and making out with my computer for some techno-love.

Is there a such thing as iPhone armor?

Or should I just get some really great super glue?

Shit.

Come back to me my love...

I'm Totally Going Shoe Shopping, Or Maybe On a Date

2009-09-07T21:29:00.000-07:00

So, I had to wear these things called shoes to work last week. They like, go around your foot and have a front and a back. They pretty much suck if they're not called flip-flops.

And then this little thing called ouch these blisters really hurt happened.

But it's not all bad, because I totally have good reason to go shoe shopping. And, I might need to go to the hot foot doctor. Where might need to means, I'm so making an appointment and stealing him from the world, and asking him on a date.

Right. Well, maybe just the new shoes then...

(It totally looks worse in person.

Totally worthy of an MD's time.

Did I mention my limp?)

Ego Boost

2009-08-31T19:58:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure which one I am, but I do know... this kid is so getting an A.

My Happy Place

2009-08-22T09:57:00.000-07:00

Is. Right. Here.

Just Write

2009-08-16T12:55:00.000-07:00

When there is so much to say, there is only way way to begin...

Just write.

When there are feelings to consider, conflicting sentiments of readers, or perhaps no readers at all...

Just write.

When your heart is confused or happy or longing or joyful...

Just write.

There is a girl who has never been single. Never. Not for a glimpse of a moment really. It's hard to explain why. A good friend told me, just today, not to search for why. I will try to take her advice. I will search for what. What has brought me here. Right. Here. What does it feel like to be here. Right. Here.

Had I written weeks ago, the words would have tumbled out in bursts of excitement and giggles. That's how it goes with writing, with journeys; the bursts are replaced with calm and the calm replaced by memories.

I have this thing where I find a man, make him fall in love with me, make myself fall in love with him, and then... marry him. I forget to choose. I forget to choose my own. And perhaps? I have already done it again. Not the marrying, of course, but the forgetting that I can walk away at any time, fold my cards, and shuffle the deck.

So, I met a guy. A lovely, incredible guy. He swept me away. Sincerely. Like no other. The kind of swept away that makes you forget to eat/sleep/breathe... the kind that feels truly glorious. Remember that feeling? Driving to see that person; listening to just the right music, planning just the right meal, sharing just the right story, wearing just the right underwear. It has been good. It has been so, so good.

And then? I remember that I have been here before. Sort of. Only this time the stakes are higher, the rules of the game uncertain because I am not just playing my hand of cards, but the cards of my two loveliest creations. And they? May not want to play cards yet. They? May want to throw the deck up and watch the pieces scatter and then roll and play in them. And they? May want their mama to do the same.

So here I am. Holding my cards. I've got a good hand, a damn good hand to put down. But I don't know what the other players have. Maybe, just maybe, they've got my Ace. So today, I remind myself...

It's okay to wait for the Ace.

It's okay if the Ace never comes.

It's okay to shuffle the deck.

But it's not okay to pretend I am holding the Ace, when in my heart I know, I am not.

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

(My apologies for neglecting your blogs, my friends. I miss you all, and will come around again, starting...right.now.)

Up For Air

2009-08-16T12:26:00.000-07:00

When you travel underwater, deep under the waves and tides and light, the journey is yours. Although it is summer, I can not see the sun. Although it is summer, I can not feel the heat. Although it is summer, I feel the long days pulling. Always pulling.

And now, I am ready, to come up for air.

Another MJ Tribute?

2009-07-02T13:26:00.000-07:00

While at Tatum and Chase's first ever school play, the King of Pop channeled right into my very own son...

I'm such a proud Mama!

How Do You Like THEM Apples?

2009-06-24T14:39:00.000-07:00

"Don't forget to buy pears," he tells me. As if I would forget that the kids have an insatiable appetite for pears these days. "And grapes. Get some grapes."

"Okay," I tell him, wincing a bit at the obvious reminders. Truth is, since going back to work, he did more of the grocery shopping than me. The reminders, although maddening, were likely necessary.

That was months ago.

Today I sit alone in my space watching the pears turn from yellow, to spotted and brown. The kids won't be home for two more days and by then the pears will be mush. Sure, I could eat them myself. Sure, I could make some fancy pear tart. Or, I can watch them turn and long for mouths to feed.

There is beautiful freedom in having the day to yourself. A freedom I have not felt since having children. A timely arrangement this has been with the long days of summer. And although I miss my kiddos deeply while they are with their dad, I know they are in good hands, and I am enjoying the sense of calm that I have found. Here. In my own little space.

So, yeah, I have to modify my grocery list a bit. And perhaps, I'll be eating a bit more cold cereal for dinner (because, I can!).

And so what we had to put the play room in the garage? The kids love it!

They can romp and play in those things called bedrooms too.

So I might just have to have some friends over for pear margaritas. Because the kids? It turns out? They like apples too!

Mediation Medication

2009-06-10T15:42:00.000-07:00

So, deciding to get a divorce was a mutually painful process. One in which I won't share here.

But I've learned something new: deciding to get a divorce and going to a flippin' mediator whose office is shared with a dentist while a cavity drill is screeching in between breaths of the $450 p/hour mediator who really likes to hear himself speak...

That? Is worse.

Patrick and I were exchanging knowing glances, kicking each other to (presumably) keep the other from driving the cavity drill through the mediator's head, and even holding hands under the table.

Because That? Was freakin' painful.

Fortunately we were given the blessing to make the next appointment a phone conference. Where phone conference means setting down the flippin' receiver, having a couple of drinks, and coming back for the "I agree" part.

Because mediators who don't shut up? Might actually be doing a disservice to the profession by bringing Patrick and I closer together when we are trying to divvy the shit up.

Next time a friend needs marriage counseling (yeah right, like they'd ask me), I'm referring them to mediator dude in dentist office. They might actually walk out holding hands.

She Really Is Choosing Her Own...

2009-06-03T17:30:00.000-07:00

So, I guess it's time for some words...

Maybe it's been a long time coming. Maybe it's a rash decision. Maybe it doesn't matter how we got here, only that, we are here.

I must say, it seems to me that if ever there were an "amicable" divorce, this is such. So far. Patrick and I are actually getting along better than we have in a long time. Perhaps it is because, there is nothing left for which to argue.

While I don't pretend that the road ahead will not be uncertain and awkward, I do have great hope for our family: all four of us.

Thank you. Truly. I have been so truly supported these last weeks. Your kindness, yes YOUR kindness, has been divinely appreciated. Thank you for helping me navigate these new waters, carefully, and boldly. Thank you for the gentle strength you have shared with me.

(See? Not too bad for a couple shaking out troubled times...)

Before I share a letter with you (which some of you have already seen), I need to thank a certain friend who helped craft the letter (thank you friend). :)

I have not moved out yet. I have, however, ordered furniture! Patrick has been extremely helpful with all, and has even offered to help hang my pictures and curtains (which I hate to do). I get the keys to this new journey on Friday...

Dear Friends,

We are writing this email to share some very difficult news with you. After 9+ years together, Patrick and I have decided to separate and will be filing for divorce in the weeks ahead. This has not been an easy decision for us to make, however, we mutually feel it is the correct one. God has blessed us with two wonderful children and our primary concern now lies only with how we can make this transition as easy as possible for them.

While our relationship details remain a private matter, it is important for us that you know of our feelings as we go through this challenging period in our lives. As a result of our separation, Patrick and I will soon be living in two different residences, adjusting to separate living environments and sharing custody of our children. This will not be easy on any of us, but we will deal with the situation as best we can. Our goal is to handle this as we have tried to handle all of our shared experiences – with respect, compassion, honesty and best intentions for one-another. While we continue to work through parent time-sharing options for Tatum and Chase, we are determined to come up with a plan which will be the most beneficial for them. Patrick and I do not have anger towards each other and we still want to be a part of each other’s lives in both the short and long term future. As such, we are still planning on attending family/holiday events together, we are still planning on sharing time with Tatum and Chase together, and we will still be interacting with our shared friends at normal functions.

This is understandably going to be awkward for our friends, but please know that Patrick and I still consider ourselves very close friends and it is not a problem for us to bump into each other in social settings. We would appreciate your efforts in maintaining as much routine and normalcy as possible with regard to invitations, communications, parties, etc..

We have recently discussed this with Tatum and Chase and will continue to lift them in these times. Thank you for your understanding and caring during this challenging time.

Sincerely,
Patrick and Jamie

Butterflies

2009-05-25T13:26:00.000-07:00

(Mommy's new place)

Untitled

2009-05-15T21:32:00.000-07:00

The elephant in the room...

Hearing Things

2009-05-09T21:54:00.000-07:00

Waking up to tiny voices in the next room;

voices which have grown into little people voices;

voices which call for me, "mama," and "mommy,"

voices which I carry in my heart every last moment.

Waking up to your voices, Tatum and Chase,

Is my greatest privilege.

(Photo 2005)

Happy Mother's Day, Friends.

Mothers, Sisters, Aunts, Soon-to-be-Mothers, Grandmothers....

And to my Mom, heh, I turned YOU into a Gran.

How cool is that?

I adore you Mom.

The Bitches Expand

2009-05-07T18:57:00.000-07:00

Because I ~~am lazy~~ could not have said it better, please go see Jason to discover

a) why I popped two ~~four~~ Tylenol with coffee this morning

b) why my kids got Lunchables in their lunchboxes today instead of hand-made sandwiches

c) why it's really, really hard not to disclose a little something about spit

d) why meeting bloggy friends is such a sweet part of my life (super sorry Deb and Mel for missing the big one tonight).

e) why I continue my "Wicked" crush on Jason, Cheri @ Blog This Mom!, and katydidnot, and have developed a new crush on Pumpkin Delight.

f) why I love having a mom who lives nearby and babysits for free!

Pocket Life

2009-05-01T20:32:00.000-07:00

Steve Jobs called the iPhone "Your life in your pocket." Although I don't carry my iPhone in my pocket, because, well, you know? Turning the ringer off does, um, funny things, I do find much love in Mr. Jobs' statement. Because holy moly, have you seen the Apps for this thing?

Dude, seriously? There's an iPhone App for choosing what to eat for dinner? Nice. 'Cause I pretty much stink at meal planning. Just shake that little thing up and... let's see, Taco Salad, Jello, and Artichoke Hummus. Okay...

Oooh, and there's an iPhone App for figuring out that catchy tune that you heard in the grocery store? You just have to hold your iPhone up to the vent in the aisles of Vons. Don't worry, you don't look like your channeling ET or anything, because everyone totally knows about Shazam! Duh.

Love to facebook? Love to Tweet? Yup. There's an iPhone App for that.

So Mr. Jobs, here's some market research for ya'. I need an iPhone App that can:

Think of the most clever idea of ALL (mwahahaha) for Teacher Appreciation ~~day~~ Week
Tell the kids that we are buying a birthday gift for (insert name) and that his/her birthday is not for (insert 364ish days).
Ironing
Vacuuming
Bringing in the garbage cans
Foot massages
Laundry
Wash the kids hair without dripping soap into their eyes
Archive photo albums for the last 30+ years

I'm just thinking, as child who watched The Jetsons and thought mobile televisions and

phones with pictures (Skype)

were far-out ideas, we can't be too far off from the Rosie the Robot iPhone App, right?

Sign me up!

Crapathetic

2009-04-30T15:39:00.000-07:00

Remember those days when just jamie was a SAHM, and she actually did a little thing called writing? Yeah, me neither.

On the brink of summer break (not really, but frick, it's closer than Christmas) I long for moments filled with swimming and splashing, warm nights, outdoor concerts, pajama days, reading, planning at least one meal per week, not packing lunches, beach days, birthday parties, and even the dang gym. Perhaps then I'll be able to do a bit more than throw a picture up on the blog.

But...until then...

I'm so damn tired.

3 Down, 4 To Go

2009-04-25T22:31:00.001-07:00

Sleepy, Doc, and Happy

Enough

2009-04-21T07:29:00.001-07:00

Enough of my whining. I know I am blessed. I just forget sometimes about the things I do have, haunted by the things yet to come... I'll get over it.

So I'm posting more vacation pics. Photos that bring a smile to me...

If Only...

2009-04-20T18:11:00.000-07:00

The thing is... I can post happy vacation photos but...

But...

Maybe it's just that coming home from a trip on a Sunday night and going to work on a Monday morning don't really go well together.

Or maybe it's that I sit in a house with piles of mail and laundry and papers to be graded and lunches to pack and photos to organize and kids to play with and blogs to read and I just feel overwhelmed.

Maybe it's that I haven't been entirely honest with everyone around me and it's starting to get to me, or that I have been entirely honest with those around me and it's starting to get to me.

Maybe it's just a silent ache within...because really, I know, I know what I want.

If only...

Playcation

2009-04-20T15:34:00.000-07:00

Spring break. Relaxation. Chilling. Swimming. Reading. Napping. Eating. Playing. And all those good things that come without internet connectivity.

And it was great.

Except.

I missed you peeps. My homework this week is to get around to your blogs because seriously? It's like missing a handful of episodes of The Office. I'm all, "What? Why are Dwight and Andy friends? Who is that new guy? "Why is Jim all kiss-assy now? Why is Michael's office suddenly in a closet?"

So, here's my peek at what's been happening with a camera and no internet.

A little of this...

A little of that...

And a lot of laundry and work back here in the real world.

4 1/2

2009-04-05T15:16:00.000-07:00

When you're four and a half and you work on something for two months, it's a big deal.

When you're four and half the invitations read: "Dress fan-c," you even wear a (clip-on) tie.

When you're four and a half and your class studies Vincent Van Gogh, your classroom is transformed into an art gallery.

When you're four and a half you are proud of your art work, so you love on your teachers.

When you're four and half you bring your Gran and your Uncle Henry to check out Sunflowers done in watercolor.

When you're four and a half and the collaborative masterpiece Starry, Starry Night is unveiled, your mom tears up a little bit (a lot).

When you're four and a half you want to tour each class, and check out others' work (and snacks).

When you're four and a half you show off exactly which part you helped to paint.

When you're four and a half and your mom wants to watch a "real" artist in action, you get bored.

When you're four and a half and your school appreciates that ART means letting kids' run wild with mediums and their imagination, you get pieces like this...

...and this.

When you're four and a half you might even get your own work displayed and laminated for others to try and replicate.

And, when you're four and half and you've eaten too many strawberries and watermelon, you might spend much of the GALA doing this:

When you're four and half you're never too big for your mama to hold you.

Spring Is In The Air

2009-03-29T15:26:00.000-07:00

Alternate Title: When your brain can't formulate interesting thoughts, post photos...

Dude, Just Call it What It Is

2009-03-18T21:27:00.000-07:00

Oh the joys of magazine subscriptions. Love the mailbox full of glossy faces of bright eyed babes. But seriously? These days? Like I have time to read them. Pshaw.

But, I can't keep myself away from the dang back page. What is it about the so-called "Baby Bloopers" that draw me in? Like I haven't read every combination of child said embarrassing statement (insert: in line at grocery store/at great-grand-nana's house/in front of teacher). Just like I have probably seen every episode of A Baby Story, I have also read every possible combination blooper.

Or so I thought.

Because now? Now, it seems that each story has got to be the biggest ol' bragfest evah. Like even more than a (gasp) blog. :)

They all come with obnoxiously braggy-odd names. And they all seem to be doing obnoxiously more bragalicious-odd stuff.

Example: Last week my daughter Suri-Reese was getting a tad tired while waiting for her older brother Socrates Phoenix to finish his Mandarin Jumprope lessons. Poor Suri-Reese was past her nap time and almost out of organic goat's milk cheese puffs. Much to my dismay, would you believe it? Suri-Reese, a mere 13 months old, actually (gasp) peed in her hand-made overalls. I mean, can you believe my embarrassment? She has been potty-trained for 6 months, and then this? Did I mention it was during Mandarin Jumprope lessons?

Or: When my Mother-In-Law was visiting us from Ireland, my 2 and a half year old son Daiytona was demonstrating his recitation of The Constitution. Suddenly my Mother-in-Law went into cardiac arrest. Daiytona called for his his 4 year old sister, Ameelyia, who was doing tai chi at the time, to grab the defibrillator to help Grand-Nana. In the meantime, Daiytona performed CPR but, forgot the proper compression to ventilation ratio! Fortunately, Ameelyia and Daiytona's younger sister Shamalie, 9 months was able to successfully call 911. Grand-Nana still laughs at Daiytona's silly mistake!

For crying out loud. Just call it "Does Your Child Have This Many Vowels In Her Name, and How Shitty of A Parent Are You?"

Yeah, I'm all talk though. Next month, I'll be turning straight to the back cover, again.

Mighty Silly

2009-03-11T19:56:00.001-07:00

Dear Future Spouse: This kid has a heart of gold.

Here are Mommy and Daddy's words to describe Chase.

Daddy:

Sensitive

Loving

Creative

Mommy:

Silly

Mathematical

Emotional

He may not conquer mountains, but this guy is full of love and joy.

Small and Mighty

2009-03-11T19:33:00.000-07:00

Dear Future Spouse: Beware. This girl means business.

Recently at dinner, Patrick and I chose three words to describe each child. We didn't compare notes until we had the first three to come to mind.

Words for Tatum:

Daddy says:

Smart

Stubborn

Observant

Mommy says:

Intelligent

Stubborn

Independent

I am wicked-proud of that stubborn little girl!

You've Got a Friend

2009-03-04T19:11:00.001-08:00

(CLICK TO ENLARGE)

January 2005

(Left to Right)

Chase, Mylin, Tatum, Cousin Nikki, Caden, Malia

4 years later...

Baby Brooke, Malia, Chase, Caden, Tatum, Mylin, Baby Torin

Henry, Brooke, Malia, Chase, Caden, Tatum, Mylin, Baby Torin

It is such a gift and joy watching these little humans grow.

These Days

2009-03-01T16:29:00.000-08:00

Can't embed the dang thing, but here's a song I'm digging these days, for many reasons.

Perks To Having Kids

2009-02-22T14:08:00.001-08:00

When they give you a little of this...

...with a touch of this,

Fight back with this. And blame your consumption on them.

For other perks to having kids, see here, and here.

The Best Medicine

2009-02-16T17:56:00.000-08:00

(...cuddling...)

Humpty Dumpty

2009-02-15T08:14:00.000-08:00

I've been a cracked egg.

I tried a new blog.

It just didn't fit.

So I'm back.

Go figure.

We'll see if "all the king's horses, and all the king's men" can put just jamie together again. But in the meantime, I'm coming back home, to blogspot.

I've been holding back a lot of feelings, trying not to share them here. But damn, you people are one supportive group of listeners. It's like a big ol' "I hear ya" fest, and for that I am grateful. So, really, I started a new, NEW blog. A place to sort, and mend, and figure. I might come clean with that one, but for now, I just need a place to get it out.

I'm sticking with what I love. Reading your blogs. Writing. Cuddling with the kids (they're really into cuddling these days, what a gift). Drinking wine. Hanging. Napping. Staying in touch. Listening. Sipping coffee. Going to church. Go to the therapist. Going to dinner with the family. Finding comfort in friends. Taking pictures.

Speaking of friends. Ya'll are some good listeners. There's this one. And this one. And this one. And this one. And of course, this one. Thank you. Nuff said.

This woman is making some discoveries about herself. Always a journey as I am "choosing my own..." happy ending.

I'm Trying...

2009-02-08T14:00:00.001-08:00

...on a new outfit.

Thank you for the many inquiries and words of encouragement. Just thought I'd let you know...I *will* be back here. This blog is a home for me. But in the meantime, I'm spilling a few daily thoughts elsewhere.

If you haven't seen it yet and want in on the madness, please let me know and I'll point you in the right direction.

In Which Just Jamie Takes a Break...

2009-01-25T15:54:00.000-08:00

When your day begins like this, you have a choice. You can get annoyed at yourself for being clumsy, or perhaps just laugh and let the dog lick it up. (Damn dog, what good is she anyways? Miss Fancypants Molly happens to prefer her eggs cooked.)

I've been carrying around some scrambled egg brain for many months now. Some days I want to share my scrambled thoughts here, some days I want to start a new blog where I can really vent, and some days I fail to have the courage to fake it. It's time to unscramble, and make sense of these thoughts dancing around in my head. Until then... please be patient with my absence.

Untitled Thoughts

2009-01-18T22:13:00.000-08:00

(cousins)

Our weekend, with one extra day to celebrate such goodness in our country...was spent with sleepovers, play dates, a field trip, and sunshine. What a treat it is to be an American this week.

Hello My Name Is... Mama

2009-01-11T18:33:00.000-08:00

So why is it that I just have to be a Mom everywhere I go? And why is it that I have to somehow announce that I am a Mom everywhere I go?

It's annoying. I know. But most days, I just can't help it.

Being pregnant was great. I got to wear my Mommyness everywhere, right in the front. Pushing strollers, baby-wearing, carrying a diaper bag on a Girls Night Out (I so only did that once, maybe twice)... these are all my badges of honor.

Sometimes, I even carry my Parents magazine with the label facing right on out to the world as I walk my dog to the mailbox, lest any new neighbors catch me without my own kids.

Again, annoying. I know.

I crave a moment away from the chaos of children bouncing all around, and yet, when I get it, I find myself observing other people's children from my quiet corner of the coffee shop/beach/car, and I can't help but miss my own tiny faces smiling back.

How easy it is to forget the meltdowns, the tantrums, the drama and refusal to eat your vegetables while away, or while the bundles sleep.

Being a Mom is what I was made for. This much I know. I have days I question if I have done more harm than good, days I fantasize traveling with nothing but a back pack and a wandering spirit, and days where my children downright wear me right out. But, in the end, just before I fall asleep, I reflect on the humans I have the honor of raising, and always, ALWAYS, I smile.

Please, God, let there be more of this. More smiling, more appreciating, and more...well, more babies even. Because this annoying habit of mine suits me just fine, and it's all happening just.too.darn.quickly.

A (kind of) Love Letter

2009-01-05T16:10:00.000-08:00

Who, me?

He turns the heater on before we wake up.

He brushes the kids' teeth, really well.

He cooks great salmon, great eggs, and makes a wicked salad.

He vacuums.

He does laundry (washes and dries/doesn't put away but...)

He makes coffee, or brings me coffee (almost) every morning.

He's financially responsible.

He's respectful to all people.

He's smart.

He's athletic.

He puts family first.

He gives the kids baths.

He's honest.

He puts up with my quirky stuff.

He loves our kids fiercely.

He fixes things.

He takes us on great trips.

He takes care of his mama.

He's responsible.

He's handsome.

He gets my oil changed, and tires ...um, rotated and whatever tires need.

He loves me.

I'm not such a romantic person... so, yeah, thanks hon, for being all of these things. I forget to say it. A lot. So, thank YOU. Really.

Four Looks Good On You Baby!

2008-12-31T15:48:00.000-08:00

Tatum had a big day today.

First, she flipped off her Mama.

Then she had a snack.

And then...

Voila!

So, we celebrated.

Resolutions

2008-12-28T14:47:00.000-08:00

On the brink of 2009...

Find ... my happy self, my content self, my zen self.

Pursue ... my passion for love, my passion for friendships, my passion for creating family, and for creating memories.

Believe ... in the beauty and awe of GOD, that dreams are still awaiting me.

Appreciate ... the small and smaller moments, the things which bring me stress may be a gift to another (work, family, etc), the smallness of my children NOW -- they seem so big, but I will look back at their tiny hands and arms and faces and remember just how small they still are.

Trust ... that not knowing the outcome of tomorrow makes me stronger today.

Encourage ... everyone; my children to be whoever they dream to be, my students to follow their own dreams, my family to love big.

Pray ... more intently, more frequently, more meaningfully.

2009

I'll give more high fives, more smiles, more hugs.

I'll chase dreams, and BELIEVE that they will bring me exactly.where.I.belong.

2008 Pics

2008-12-23T09:05:00.000-08:00

Well, the cards have been sent out. Some of these made it. Every November, we do a family shoot. I make a photo collage for the wall, a sort of Year in Review.

The day we took these shots was the first day of deciding to grow out Tatum's bangs. The awkward in-between phase is hard to get through, but if you keep going, you get what you need, right?

Kind of fits my mood right now.

Pretty soon, they'll be too heavy for this one. You'd think we would have learned our lesson.

Go to the Head of the Class

2008-12-22T14:19:00.000-08:00

Does this sweet, sweet child just make you want to melt, or what?

(Click to enlarge)

And to csdw.org, it goes.

50 Is The New 40 and 32 is the New ... Where Was I?

2008-12-15T18:15:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I worry. Like about myself.

I shouldn't do that. In fact I know I shouldn't do that because I watched The Secret again today. Negative energy creates more negative energy. So I gotta get off that.

But really? Exhibit A:

I was wrapping this gift for my husband today:

When it occurred to me that, it looked vaguely familiar.

Kind of like the one hanging in OUR CLOSET ALREADY?

He also reminded me that upon noticing his "Lucky" jeans yesterday, I said, "Hey, when did you get those? I like those jeans."

Apparently, not only has he had them for months, but I also asked him the exact same question, in the exact same way a few weeks ago. No recollection.

I commented on a blog post recently. A birthday post. I truly thought, Wow Happy Birthday Friend. Then, I went back today, and commented on the same post, never knowing I had seen it before, let alone commented.

I dunno. I remember strange things, dreams for example, with such vivid color and clarity.

Then, other days...

Exhibit, what am I on, Exhibit D? Patrick and I had a night out recently, last weekend I think. We checked into a hotel. The Bourne Ultimatum was on. I plopped on the bed and was enthralled with one of my favorite series. I LOVE these movies.

Only, this time...I couldn't remember it. None of it. Not just the ending. But the parts in between. "We saw this together," Patrick told me. I kept thinking my memory would be jarred by (hello?) MATT DAMON!!! But... nothin'.

So. I dunno. I'm hoping 33 brings my memory back, 'cause 32 is kind of freaking me out.

My Christmas List...

2008-12-13T07:53:00.000-08:00

csdw.org

Did You Hear the One about Super Scribbler That Walks Into A Therapists' Office?

2008-12-07T14:21:00.000-08:00

I've been in need of some good blog material. And lucky for me I got tagged. Usually, I'm a wee bit snarky with being tagged. I have a hard time following the rules, and I don't like being told what to do. Go figure.

Since that hasn't changed, and I'm grateful for the tag, here goes:

Chris at Finding My Way (love that title, by the way), AND Jennifer at Crazy, Magic, Sometimes Hectic, Beautiful Life (Um, yeah, that about sums it up, eh?) both tagged me with the same one. Love that! I'm feeling all efficient and sh*t getting them both done! Chris is a doll. She has a darling little son, Jack, and is a teacher -- of that number-like thing...I think it's called Math. So many kudos to her. And Jennifer not only has twins, but she threw another one in there too. Sheez. Over-achiever! Please stop by.

So this is the 7 Random things tag. I think I'm supposed to list 7 random things about myself, and tag 7 people or something... (how am I doing so far? Still reading?).

So I'm tweaking this a bit into 7 Random Reasons Why I Need A Good Therapist:

1. I dream about having more babies ALL. THE. TIME. Last night I had a peach-fuzzed, blonde little girl that I kept throwing up into the air because she was asking me to. Yup. The baby. I knew she was mine, but I didn't know her name.

2. I totally want to be past-life regressed.

3. I hate dirty hands and feet. I wash my hands maniacally, and when I carry baby wipes to wash my feet on flip-flop days.

4. I've googled all of my exes. Heh.

5. My dog knows my mood better than I do. If she's under the bed, I guess that means I should have crawled under there with her.

6. I organize my kids' toys. Art supplies no exception. I actually head out shopping in search of a new "puffy ball" tin, or "googly eye bin." Markers must be sorted by brand, size, and thickness. EVERYthing has its place. Fun times. (See playroom for neurotic exhibit A. Wish I had a shot of the "creation station.")

7. I still think that for a short period, when I was five, I could hover. I floated, in a doorway. Totally. I think I was magic.

There you have it. I'm taking recommendations for meds I may need to discover.

As for the tagging part, if you dig it, please join in.

But wait, the fun is not over, I was also given a hugely generous gift from the ever-so-lovely Jason at The Jason Show. Does it get much better than this? I really think it must have been Jason's hunky stand-in that truly gave me this award (not to be outdone by Jason's uber-hunkiness, himself). Because my lack of quality bogging has been rather apparent these days, okay, months...

However, since I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Jason, I accept. Thank you my friend. Please check him out. The most loveable family man you may ever meet. And by family, of course I mean, an ex-wife, a handful of children, an English-as-a-Third-Language (hunky) partner, and all the mixings for some truly fine comedic relief.

Allow me to flaunt:

I'm passing this one along to:

Clarissa, at A Working Mom's Playground because this mother of beautiful boy/girl twins has heart and soul, creativity and drive, persistence and motivation all of which I admire and envy. Please check her out.

Stirring

2008-11-28T15:07:00.000-08:00

Like the moon pulling the waves...so too my mind s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-s, and then releases. Again, s-t-r-e-t-c-h and release.

Can't quite figure out all the stirring within, but something is happening.

Do you ever feel like your destined to be doing ... well, something else? The vastness of the world, the poverty, the faces, the stories, the suffering, the celebrations...it all exists out there and yet here I sit, in the safety of my home, my neighborhood, my country.

s-t-r-e-t-c-h ....

Where can I go to fill the hole within? Can I build a well so children can be nourished by clean drinking water? Spend time in a refuge camp? An orphanage? Adopt? Live humbly. Give. Give. Give. Serve in the Peace Corps? Travel by foot? Write? Learn languages?

...and release.

Of course I am pulled back to Earth, my world, my home, my family, my children, my job. I think of jeans I'd like to buy, movies I'd like to watch, organic food I'd like to eat. I bathe in gallons of clean water, brush my teeth several times a day, sip Starbucks, drive freely, on-line shop, snap at the kids, worship in the church of my choice, sleep restfully.

s-t-r-e-t-c-h...

How can I give more, be more, learn more, live more? How can I fill my life with more spirit? How can I share my freedoms with those who suffer?

...and release.

Where can I get that, do that, see that, try that, buy that?

s-t-r-e-t-c-h...

Some days I imagine shedding my skin and following the footsteps of my soul. Some days I imagine leaping into a life where selfless acts come first, and where that means much more than serving a hot meal to others before ourselves. Some days I feel the bubbling inside and wonder if I have the courage to make it last...

...and release.

And then I look into the faces of that which I've already begun. I can't leave them. Not because they need me. But because I need them. I need their strength to guide me through this world, this place. And my prayer is that we journey into our future with clarity, grace, and purpose, together.

Puff the Magic Dragon

2008-11-22T15:38:00.000-08:00

(Chase's favorite song)

Puff the Magic Dragon

Lived by the sea

And frolicked in the autumn mist

In a land called Honalee.

Little Jackie Paper loved that rascal Puff

And brought him strings and sealing wax and other fancy stuff.

Oh, Puff the magic dragon

lived by the sea.

And frolicked in the autumn mist

In a land called Honalee.

Together they would travel

On a boat with billowed sail

Jackie kept a lookout perched

On Puff's gigantic tail.

Noble kings and princes

Would bow whene'er they came.

Pirate ships would lower their flag

When Puff roared out his name.

Oh Puff the magic dragon

Lived by the sea.

And frolicked in the autumn mist

In a land called Honalee.

(Yes, I know what the song means. But Chase doesn't. He simply believes in a magical dragon.)

She Sure Told Me

2008-11-22T15:11:00.000-08:00

In the car...

Tatum: Chase, do you hear that beautiful music?

Me: (Turning the radio up. Finally, they like MY music.)

Tatum: Mom, turn that DOWN. I'm playing the piano.

Me: ?

Tatum: Gran downloaded a piano on your phone.

Me: ? (Did she just say, "down-loaded?")

Do you know everything Tatum?

Tatum: No. I don't know everything.

I don't know what tigers eat.

But I know everything else.

That settles that.

An Epic Woman

2008-11-17T22:17:00.000-08:00

'Twas the night before the weekend

And all through the house

Were messes and socks and even a real mouse.

Nothing was hung ANYwhere with care.

But never fear, Cheri would send Martitza to dare

Step into my house, step into my clutter.

And prepare this crazed placed without even a mutter.

A party was happening.

A surprise would take place.

A surprise planned with love for a woman with grace.

The woman would turn half a century old

The woman, my mother, could not be told

ANYthing remotely that breathed the surprise.

So Cheri and and had a plan to devise.

We coaxed my poor Mother into thinking the worst

We told her to meet at the counselor's office first.

A Sunday meeting with "Yoda" to spill all my beans

But, wait, "dress cute," don't wear ratty jeans.

My mother, she fretted, what could it be?

Why does my daughter want to torture me?

My 50th birthday is quickly approaching.

My daughter is selfishly bitching and moaning.

"I'm SO busy Mom." "My life is a wreck."

You must meet me on Sunday to sort out the mess.

"I'll pick you up at noon, so we can drive together."

Meanwhile Cheri greets guests and cuts bagels.

We show up in the back, tear open the door,

Mom walks into my home to find friends she adores.

Her "Trish" friends, "her Patti" friends, and even some call her "Gran."

Which Cheri, the lovely co-host has planned.

"We did it!" We cried.

And of course she looked cute.

'Cause what can be better than hawt legs in hawt boots!

I hope she exclaimed as she cried out in fright,

"I'm a beautiful woman with a beautiful life!"

Happy Birthday Mom. You rock 50! I love you.

For the backstory on this incredible woman, see here.

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like...

2008-11-10T14:14:00.001-08:00

Please pop over to see how you can help.

He Forgot That "Asshole" Has a Silent "e"

2008-11-08T21:10:00.000-08:00

For a couple of weeks now, first grade has been an obnoxious amount of the Silent "e" rule. We sing songs about it. We practice it in reading group with ridiculous stories about how one might "bake a cake on a lake with a snake" or "tape a shape of a kite while awake in space." Uh-huh. Kind of like the Harry Potter series, gripping, only ... not.

So when Parent Teacher conferences began this morning, I did what most teachers do: inundate parents with paperwork and examples and assessments and journals and test-scores and rubrics and ... did I mention the journal?

So there's me, in my most professional demeanor, behind my kidney table, work sprawled out, presenting to Little Boy Blue's parents.

Me: I'd like to share with you some of Little Boy Blue's writing samples now. Here (flipping pages) are our daily journals. Each morning we (something catches my eye ... did that just say "Bitch?" ... no, couldn't have) begin with a writing prompt (flipping through more pages ... there it is again, it says "Bich" ... oh, it must mean "rich," or "big,"...) and students respond (THAT'S IT!).

Me: ?

Parents: ?

Journal:

Dear Mrs. Just-Jamie,

Bich Asshol Bich Bich Ass

Yup. And the shit of it all was this, he didn't even freakin' remember the silent "e" in Ass-holE.

Sheez. Some teacher I am.

(In Little Boy Blue's defense, I have yet to teach the trigraph "tch.")

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

FYI: Said journal went home as a souvenir for Little Boy Blue to explain. We'll see what he has to write about this week.

Logic

2008-11-02T20:42:00.000-08:00

Me: In a teacher-y sing-song-y-Mommy-voice: What do you want to be when you grow up Tatum?

Tater: A doctor. A kid's doctor.

Me (Annoying Voice): Oooooh. A Pedia-tri-cian! Wow!

And Chase what do you want to be honey?

Chase: A Daddy.

Me: Awwww. How sweet. And how many kids do you want?

Chase: None.

Yeah -- It's Like That!

2008-11-01T08:48:00.000-07:00

I Hope You Dance

2008-10-28T21:02:00.000-07:00

Tatum

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder

You get your fill to eat

But always keep that hunger

May you never take one single breath for granted

God forbid life ever leave you empty handed

I hope you still feel small

When you stand beside the ocean

Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens

Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the chance to sit it out or dance

I hope you dance

I hope you dance!

"It's Like Skipping Straight To Butt-Sex On a First Date"

2008-10-24T22:15:00.000-07:00

(Mel at A Dramatic Mommy, Cheri at Blog This Mom!, Jenn at Juggling Life, Kate at katydidnot, Deb at San Diego Momma and me. Not pictured, Laural at Mamasphere who also had on some hot shoes!)

I won't rat out the owner of the quote, but I love her that much more for saying it.

When the Bitches go out, they put away their "How's the weather in your neighborhood," questions and go straight for the goods. For that, I am thankful.

And they know how to nibble, sip, giggle, accessorize, munch, pose, and even climb.

(Although, I think I've seen the likes of this somewhere before...)

I'm pretty sure that the guy who took our picture(s) was giving me some sort of sign. See it? The "check out my wedding ring" sign. Pshaw. Just 'cause we're giddy doesn't mean we're going to honor the title of this post.

And anyways, maybe that's not the way we roll...

Just Jamie is Just Grateful

2008-10-19T16:24:00.000-07:00

I missed my "Blogaversary." Only by 4 days, which for me right now is pretty good. I've been missing a lot. Friends and relatives' birthdays and anniversaries (sorry). And now this? Sheez. So for one year, and four days, I have been a blogger. Thank you, truly, for the many friendships I have made this past year. I could not have predicted the true pleasure I have found in getting to know you all.

Despite being a tad off on the calendar, I'm not missing out on those moments, you know the moments, where your children nestle into you, their breath close by, their hair tangled in yours, arms wrapped tightly around. I'm holding on to those, and for that I am grateful.

Grateful.

For weekends like these...

(Daddy, Aunt Linda, Chase, Tatum & Nana)

(Aunt Linda and Tater)

(Nana & Chasey Bear)

Speaking My Language

2008-10-13T15:43:00.000-07:00

(...or at least the language I wish I had the brain-power to say.)

It's not often that I point you to a blog ... so when I do, just know, it's THAT good.

Please see some brilliant political candor at my friend Clarissa's site, A Working Mom's Playground.

No need to comment here. Feel free to give the moment to her. Wow.

Picture Day

2008-10-13T12:14:00.001-07:00

Remember picture day? I LOVE picture day as a teacher. The kids get so spiffed up. The comb-overs, the gel, the curls and up-do's. Shiny black patent leather shoes, ironed "slacks," new shirts.

The best part of picture day for me is the class picture. I love standing next to 3 perfect rows of little people. I love the squinted eyes, the closed eyes, the crooked smiles, the missing teeth. The kids in the front with knock-knees and bobby socks, the ones in the back who barely peak out from the crowd. Love it.

This year. For picture day, I got some sad news. Damn photography studio doesn't do class pictures like that anymore. WHA'? WHY? Something to do with composite sheets, head-shots, and not missing the absent kids. Pshaw. Lame.

So when it was my kids picture day last week, I did the motherly thing: bought coordinated outfits (color schema only, people), spiffed, and used my thumb to wipe the breakfast off a face or two. I even put Tatum in a creme colored dress on Pizza day for crying out loud.

So I sent them on their way. But first, a picture by the front door.

And then, my damn camera broke again. What is up with that (hint, hint: Santa).

So, the iPhone shots:

And after only a small smear of pizza sauce, and me worrying ALL DAY how their pictures would turn out, I got the news.

Picture day is now extended to include TWO days of shots: one day outside, one inside. WHA'? HUH?

Whatever happened to class pictures, and goofy smiles? It seems life leaves little room for the imperfections that make us so unique...

My Dog Ate My Homework

2008-10-09T15:47:00.000-07:00

I have to do it. I've tried not to. I've made excuses.

"I'll get to them."

"I just need one, quiet night alone."

"I can't possibly miss out."

And now...my Google Reader is at 373.

So I'm out of excuses. I must do the unthinkable, and for that, I am sorry.

I am... marking "all as read."

Hopefully I'll keep up, from now on. Hopefully. Please drop me a note if you've had BIG news.

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

P.S. My "shoe", you know, from Tiny? I got them back. I proudly strutted around in my old faves, and then...the damn things broke again.

Freakin' Tiny.

I Want to Keep the Shoe

2008-09-30T18:09:00.000-07:00

My husband knows the rules. There are two things OFF LIMITS to his judgement. I can spend money on these things however I see fit, and he gets NO say in the matter. Those two things are, of course:

1. Haircuts

2. Shoes

(And maybe about 14 hundred and 33 other things, but that's part of a woman's mystery.)

So when (one of) my (kind of) favorite black, strappy shoes pulled a little trick on me called The Shoe Is Separating From The Sole and another little trick called The Elastic Is About To Give On The Cute Strappy Part, I chose not to send them to Shoe Heaven. Instead, I took them to Tiny's.

Tiny's Shoe Repair situated in a tiny little strip mall shop that likely once was a film drop-off, is occupied by two tiny little employees with (presumably) tiny little feet.

So I walk in the tiny door.

Me: Hi. Uh, do you repair shoes? (Dumb question. Dumb question.)

Tiny Lady: You want fix shoe?

Me: Yes. The sole is separating from the shoe part. And it looks like the strappy thingies are just about to give.

Tiny Lady: Oh. You LIKE the shoe?

Me: Uh, yes. I like the shoes.

Tiny Lady: You want to KEEP the shoe?

Me: Yes. I'd like to keep both shoes.

Tiny Lady: You want to PAY to fix the shoe.

Me: Um, yes.

Tiny Lady: What you put on shoe?

Me: (Sheepishly...) Well, I was hoping no one would notice that. But, uh, I was kind of in a bind. I was working and my shoe started falling apart so I did the only thing I knew how to do. I used the hot glue gun.

Tiny Lady: Oh. It cost more to fix hah glue. I have to clean hah glue first.

Me: Okay.

Tiny Lady: You LIKE the shoe?

Me: Yes. I like the shoes.

Tiny Lady: You want to PAY to fix the shoe?

Me: Yes. Please. I'll pay.

Tiny Lady: It cost 25 dollar.

Me: Okay.

Tiny Lady: You LIKE the shoe?

(Sheez lady. I know. They're cheap-ass shoes. I think I got them from Marshall's. I think I paid about $15 for them, but YES, I LIKE THE SHOE. I like BOTH shoes.)

Tiny Lady: Your Husband like the shoe?

Me: ........ Actually, no.

Which brings me back to my original point. He gets no say in my shoes. And Sunday, when I get my haircut, he better not ask me if I like the hair.

(Shoe photo from my Bitchy friends.)

(I miss you shoes. Come back home safely.)

September 24, 2008

2008-09-23T18:50:00.000-07:00

How is it that each birthday I absolutely can not grasp that you are a year older? You are a year taller, longer, and bigger. You are filled with a year's more memories, a year's more dreams, and a year of more stories. May your story continue to develop into the perfect ending for you, both of you!

Had I known four years ago what lovely humans you would be today, already, I may not have been able to fully imagine it. Though your years are young, your souls are bright and full of hope.

To my independent, in-control, can-do, Pippi Longstocking way of dancing through life girl: Happy Birthday Sweetpea. You are my favorite girl on the planet!

Tatum:

"I hope you dance."

To my sweet, empathetic, loving, hilarious, Mr. Magoo little guy: Happy Birthday Sweet-boy. You are my favorite boy on the planet!

Chase:

"I love you to the moon, and back."

So You Think You Can Blog

2008-09-18T19:22:00.000-07:00

As you know, I'm back to the land of full-time teacher. It's a ride much like the ride of a parent. I wipe tears (6 times today), apply band-aids, (2 times today), tie shoes (okay, actually I have a rule that I don't tie shoes ... because ... euughhh, do you know where those things have been dragged?), and of course impart wisdom on the young. It's up, it's down, it's fast and slow. But through it all those sweet little boys and girls remind me that it's all for the right reasons. And I have my favorites. I know, we're not supposed to but come on, if you saw that chocolatey skin and big eyes looking up at you, you'd melt too.

One quick teacher story: Today I told a boy that his number was number nineteen. "No," he told me, "my number is a 1 and a 9."

Aww...

So here's the crappy thing. After finally getting my email/iPhone working again, my baby, my sweet, sweet Nikon baby has gone and died on me. (Sniff.) I can't help but notice the coincidence between my lovey Nikon's un-timely departure and the Husband getting his hands on it for the uber-excellent first day of school shots. And you know, I'm finding it really difficult to blog without some good, photographic evidence to support my stories.

So, I'll just have to go to the archives...

(which reminds me, where did my little babies go?)

She goes from being walked...

...to doing the walking.

P.S.

2008-09-12T22:07:00.001-07:00

Something is seriously effed up with my computer AND my phone. I'm headed to the Apple store tomorrow (after the gym, of course). The point is, I have emailed like, every.single.one.of my blog and real life friends in the last week. And they ALL are still sitting in my stinkin' outbox. Why won't they SEND?

My apologies for my absence. The gist:

Aunt Linda: we got the Plasma car for Chase. Yay. Thanks.

Bitches: I'd love to coordinate a night out.

Kate: You had a baby girl today! Holy moly. Yay for Hailey.

Courtney: I miss you. I know you're in town. Call me.

Jenn: I missed your birthday and I've had a damn gift sitting in my kitchen for you for 4 weeks. Love you.

Mary: Are you staying with us this weekend while Jenna delivers baby Carson?

Ugh...

Guess I'll have to pick up that telephone thing.

Run Forrest, Run

2008-09-12T20:44:00.000-07:00

Back in the Olden Days...or something like that... for a wee period of time, I was a runner. (Gasp) Yeah, did you hear God laughing, 'cause I think I heard Him choke on his golden, angelic, saliva?

But really, I was.

My (now) husband was courting me. I went along with it. I courted back. It just so happened that he liked a good margarita shaker, and I liked a good margarita shaker. He liked lounging in the sunshine for hours, and I liked lounging. He liked running, and I ... did not. But I pretended for awhile. I pretended so well that I got myself signed up for races, like with other people, who like, run and stuff.

There was the aptly named "Bolder Boulder" in my college town of Boulder, CO:

Being that it was a 5K, I thought it was okay. I tried another. There was the scenic and hill-acious La Jolla Half Marathon here at home:

And it.was.hard. It kicked my butt. But, there was a beer garden at the finish line so ... I kept running. 2 hours later, I had a coldie.

So I tried another crazy-ass one. Those military folks, they know how to lay out some cruel and unusual punishment.

I give you, The Mud Run:

There was another half marathon in there too somewhere, but then, it hit me. I don't like running. So, I stopped. And I took up a new hobby called: gestating, and birthing, and feeding, and wiping, and hugging, and rocking, and loving.

I also took up a little hobby called: wine.

And now, damn, I think I need a new hobby because that old girl looked a little stronger than this new mama. And although I gave up beef and pork last May (really proud of that BTW), it's not quite enough.

But how does a working Mommy fit it all in? Gym at 5:00am? Ugh. I dunno. I guess I'll ponder it on my ~~2nd, 3rd,~~ 4th glass of wine...

Any ideas on how to make it all work?

Coming Clean

2008-09-10T21:40:00.000-07:00

So, I let the cat out of the bag at school. I told someone that I had a blog. Now I can't do any ranting or major complaining. One is all it takes (right Mr. R?).

So I'll move on.

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

Him: Lets' go for a ride. Drive down the alley, this way.

Her: No. STOP! Put your seat belt on. NOW.

Him: I did. You put your seatbelt on.

Her: Okay. Let's go. Drive over there.

No, there.

Him: Do you want to drive?

Her: No. I want you to drive.

....

Her: I said, drive that way.

Him: I am!

Her: Turn. Turn! Hurry. We're going to crash.

Him: No we're not. It's fun.

Her: Aaauuugghhhh! STOP! You're going to crash.

Him: You should drive.

Her: No. It's okay. You can drive.

....

Her: You're CRASHing!

Him: It's okay. You have your seat belt on.

Welcome to the world of my old married couple: Boy/Girl Twins.

How Does This Work?

2008-09-06T09:12:00.000-07:00

I've survived my first week back. I haven't taught full-time since the kids were born, which reminds me, their birthday is coming up. Guess who took over birthday party duties? The husband. Guess who took the kids to their first day of Junior Kindergarten at their new school? The husband. Guess who is taking them to their 4 year-old check up? The husband. Guess who packed lunches and made dinner this week? The husband. Guess who is taking Chase to get his hair cut? The husband. And do you know what?

It's really hard to let go.

I miss my Mommy duties. I miss waking up and reading blogs. I miss making the birthday party details come to life, chatting with the neighbors, taking the kids swimming mid-day, going to the library to hear some cheesy puppet show. I miss it all.

If you've been pulling this off all along, Dude, you rock. Because this.is.hard.

But it will all iron itself out. It's a matter of getting efficient, getting into a routine, getting a solid system figured out.

Sorry to whine. I had hoped to be my snarky self. I'm barely hanging on right now. And the husband. The helpful one. Yeah, he leaves tonight for 5 nights. There was a time I celebrated this alone time. But today, I'm feeling a bit anxious about the whole thing.

Here's the good news, the kids are thriving at their new school. It's a fantastic place with fantastic teachers. I know they are in good hands, and they love it. And Patrick even took pictures for me of their first day at school ...

Wanna see?

Note to self: Next time, give Patrick the point-and-shoot.

Where In the World Is "Just Jamie?"

2008-08-30T12:21:00.000-07:00

Three weeks ago, I never would have thought I'd be staring at the walls of my own classroom, again. What a treat.

Two weeks ago, there was nothing in this room but a ladder.

One week ago, I was able to get into the room.

5 days ago, I was allowed to put things on the wall.

3 days from now, the room will be filled with 20 first graders.

It's a "portable," but it's brand new. I hoped to get in this weekend and put some finishing touches up, but my room is so new, no one knows where the key is...ugh. It's probably good though. I'll rest up, catch up on 400 blogs (um, yeah), and spend time with my own kiddos who will be starting Junior Kindergarten next week! Five full days. Wow. I know they're in excellent hands, but I really will miss them.

Sorry to have been so absent. Hope all of you blog buddies are doing well.

Wordless Wednesday

2008-08-20T08:29:00.001-07:00

At Nana's House 2006

2007

2008

The Door Is Open

2008-08-18T21:08:00.000-07:00

(It's a long post, but you may not see another one for a while... so you can take your time.)

Once upon a time there was a teacher. She taught first grade. She loved her students, the parents, the feeling of giving some tender bits of wisdom to little ones each day. This teacher always wanted to be a Mommy. After some blessings of fertility doctors and happy spirits, the teacher became pregnant with not one, but two little angels. So the teacher hung up her teaching hat (and by hung up I mean stowed about 400 boxes of primary colored goodness in her garage) and eased into her new role (and by eased I mean cried harder than her colicky son) as a Stay-at-Home-Mom. She loved it.

Life went on. The twins grew. She started a blog. She embraced her role. And then Target played some voo-doo magic on her in the form of putting Back To School supplies at every turn. Oh how the SAHM longed to buy 20 packs of crayons, 20 glue sticks, 20 sets of Fiskars scissors... instead she bought plastic toys and swim suits for $3.99, birthday gifts for play group friends, and Green cleaning products. She liked that too.

One day, the SAHM had an overwhelming urge (and by overwhelming urge I mean she kicked everyone out of the house in the middle of a Sunday afternoon so she could get her letter -groove on) to compose a letter to the Principal of her Dreams, at the School of her dreams, which happens to be 1.1 miles from her new home. She decided to compose this letter 2 weeks before the start of school, knowing that all positions would of course be filled, but that she ought to put her name in the ring for next year.

The letter was lovely. The SAHM hit "send." The letter did not send. In fact, the letter disappeared into cyber-eff-you-ness. The girl knows from watching Oprah that the law of attraction means that you think really hard, put it out there, pray a wee bit, and hope for the best possible outcome. The SAHM did not know the best possible outcome, after all the SAHM was getting rather used to staying in her jammies until ... um, lunch. But she did this little thing called praying. And she composed a new letter, hit send, and waited.

Meanwhile, 1.1 miles from home there was a Principal. He was a lovely man. He received the SAHM's letter, got a chuckle, and likely dismissed it as a good try. As I understand it, within moments of reading the email, the Principal received a phone call from the District. The phone call said that the Principal needed to open a new classroom, a first grade classroom ASAP. The Principal could have gone to the District for a list of 50 teachers from which to choose. Fortunately, the Principal also believes in the law of attraction and could not believe the email he had read moments before from some crazy SAHM announcing her eligibility to teach first grade. He sent her an email: "You're on." She set out the next morning to see him.

He played a good hand. Never did he let on that he even had a job to offer. The talk was casual. The feeling overwhelmingly fantastic. Then, he showed his cards. There was a job. It was first grade. We didn't even know how I was sitting in that room with him, mere hours after the news of the opening. I couldn't explain it. He couldn't explain it. In what can only be understood as an act greater than the two of us, I think we both realized it was truly, meant to be.

Later that day, after we both had time to process, the Principal proposed to me. He told me that things would not be easy, that the circumstances were particularly difficult, but that he would support me, and that we would make it through the good and bad times. It was easy to put the ring on my finger, glow, and accept.

So here I am, no longer officially a SAHM, off to the world of Working Mother and first grade teacher. As the nature of perfect coincidences happen, there is a fantastic preschool blocks from our home which happened to have two spots left for Junior Kindergarten. How do you script it better?

I can only hope that we all have the proverbial fairy tale ending. I'm not sure how I will navigate blogging and such, but I know that the circle of incredible people I read will understand.

As I walk through the next door, I hope that I do not disappoint. Although I will miss terribly seeing the intricacies of my preschoolers first-hand, I know we will all prosper. Cross your fingers.