Perverted Pedophiles

Maybe it was foreshadowing, but about a while ago I took a break from blogging because my search engine data showed that some (I’m assuming) pedophile found my blog by searching (I’m going to put asterisks in hopes of not attracting more freaks) for “n*ked children v**inas.” I went through my blog and sure enough, I have all three words in it, though never together. Eeewwwwww.

Well yesterday morning (is this drama month or WHAT?) when the brain surgeon was brushing his teeth, we heard this POUNDING sound. Long story short, it is the police (lots of them) pounding on our neighbor’s door. They had a search warrant because somehow they figured out he was into child po*nog*aphy. See the California Penal Code he's arrested under here.

(Don’t worry…I’m sure I’ll get less paranoid and stop putting asterisks in everything).

The weird thing is this man has been awful to my children. I mean, nasty, rude, dreadful. He definitely doesn’t fit the: “Ya want some candy, Little Girl?” stereotype. Especially because we now know he’s into little boys. I have both, and either way, it’s creepy.

He isn’t bad looking, but he has always acted strange and angry. He drives an Audi A4, which he keeps remarkably clean. He used to go to work, but has been home for about two years, I think.

What I’m finding interesting now is how much we protect criminals to protect our values of innocence until proven guilty. It’s a tough balance, for sure. If he posts bail, he gets to come home and live next to our three children and us – and enjoy the view out of his bedroom of the toddler park – until his court date.

And he could come home. His bail is set at only $20,000, which means he needs to put up just $2,000 with a bail bondsman. And if we post warnings about him or notices of what happened, he can sue us for slander. Cool, ay?

Look: This guy in Barbara Boxer’s office was arrested last Friday for involvement in a kiddie porn ring and he’s already out of jail. Ick.

I hope that the freakshow cannot come up with the cash and will stay behind bars. Pedophiles are not so treatable, rumor has it, and I don’t even want him *looking* at my children in their winter clothes. If he gets to come back, we need to go, and that’s inconvenient on 10 different levels.

Plus, I’m now scared at night when the brain surgeon isn’t home.

Thanks freaky pedophile.

I Have Been Shat Upon Before, but Today Takes the Cake

Here's a little something that happened on September 19th.

My oldest child is so psychic, and this story alone will sound like a silly way to say so, but let’s just leave it at that.

So today, after a couple of quick conference calls, we went to see the Animal Guys . (more on this and animal consciousness soon). Our playgroup had arranged for them to come to the park for a potluck show, and one of the other children was having a birthday party with a bounce house, too. It was cool and definitely educational for all, especially my daughter, since we are studying mammals.

Now, my youngest, who will be two in November, was in full potty training mode, refusing to wear diapers and such. I’d been indulging her for a couple of days and putting her in big-girl pants. She had been making it to the potty for the most part. I didn't use this video to train her:



As we approached the park, she started to yell “pee pee” while still in her car seat, so I told her we were almost there and to hold it. After we parked, I got all three kids out of their car seats (yes, even my 6-year-old) and we headed for the bathrooms. The older two were walking like snails, grabbing sticks and so on as children do, so I said, “Please hurry up or she’s gonna pee on my shirt.” My oldest said, “Mommy, you always pack us extra clothes, but you never pack any for yourself. Maybe you should.” “Good idea,” I said, but I’d never really needed one before, so I wasn’t really planning to follow through. (I did think it was a good idea, though).

Fast forward two hours and 10 trips to the bathroom made every time the one-who-is-now-fascinated-with-all-things-toilet-related yells “PEE PEE!” Mothers with 3-year-olds in pull-ups looked on with envy. I was a little proud, even though I had nothing to do with the early urge to potty train.

Well, somewhere between bounce house and birthday cake, I swooped my little one up for some reason (no idea) and plopped her on my hip, as usual, when yucky, hot, runny something landed upon my waist. I didn’t even have to look. I didn’t even want to know. I asked another mom to keep an eye on the older two and headed to the bathroom, pooh all over my hand and under my fingernails.

Too bad my eldest hadn’t had her little premonition about me needing a change of clothes, oh say, a day earlier. Poop was everywhere. Lots of it. Everywhere. I never understand how such little people can produce so much poop.

So, there I was, topless(and getting the top off without getting crap in my hair was no small endeavor) in a Los Angeles public bathroom with my naked baby, both of us covered in a river of crap. Literally. Luckily, I had clothes for her. I, on the other hand, had to wash my shirt out in the sink, during which time a nanny type came in with a baby. She initially looked at me stark-eyed like I was a homeless woman getting ready for the day, but then seemed to realize what happened.

Anyway, I could go on with all the gruesome details, but let’s suffice it to say that I’m glad it was warm out as I went back out to the gathering in my wet t-shirt and let’s all thank God it wasn’t white, or I would have been trapped in the bathroom for a while.

I have been shat upon before, but that was a pooh-athon to beat all pooh-athons.

Well, it’s time to get back to blogging. I can attribute my lack of blogging lately to two key things:

1. A slight (okay, slightly more than slight) Facebook addiction
2. My stat counter. It shows what keywords get people here and last month, one pervert found me by searching keywords that I will not repeat here (don’t need more perverts ending up here). Go away, Sicko!!!

Let’s start with a little Sarah Palin, because I just can’t get enough of her. This one’s worth watching.



On a personal note, life has been colorful, eventful and downright violent this week. First, the brain surgeon had a near-fistfight with someone who wanted to discipline our 3-year-old son for hitting his daughter. I have to admire my beloved’s restraint in the situation. I wasn’t there, but from what all of the bystanders said, the man deserved to get slugged.

It did bring up the question: When is it appropriate to discipline someone else’s child? My gut answer to that question is “never!” but it also depends on how one defines “discipline.” I happen to be a very gentle parent (unless I’m getting my period…go away hideous hormones!) and strict parents would likely call me “permissive.”

But there is a method to my ways. I don’t believe in spanking or doing time-outs. Why? I don’t believe either are effective, nor do I believe such discipline tactics help children learn to negotiate their way around the social intricacies of the world. Rather, they foster feelings of shame and resentment.

In the aforementioned instance, this man attempted to grab my child and “discipline” him for hitting his child. I don’t believe he was intending to hurt my little boy physically, but I do believe he was going to chastise him and try to force a fake 3-year-old apology. For whatever reason, my children say “sorry” freely, despite a lack of traditional punishment and despite the fact that I don’t force them to apologize, so aggression as a means to that end was just ludicrous.

When violence occurs, I remove the child from the situation and we talk about using words and not fists (or teeth!) and we talk about how the other person would feel. We often discuss whether or not we think people will want to play with kids who use their bodies rather than words to express feelings. We take time together to calm down. Usually at this point, my children will volunteer to apologize, because, in reality, they are gentle souls who lost control of their emotions in the heat of the moment. When the heat dissipates, they feel sad about what they’ve done.

Sound familiar?

Yeah, to me, too.

To that man, I want to say: If grown men lose control of their emotions and almost get physical over my 3-year-old, I think it’s okay that my 3-year-old has not learned to control his emotions. He needs guidance, not punishment.

Luckily, I have a 6-year-old daughter who is ridiculously gentle now, despite also using her body to communicate when she was 3. It gives me confidence in our parenting choices despite the jerkface trying to do the job for us because he clearly thought wew were inept.

But on the violence and setting a good example note, I failed miserably yesterday. I punched someone in the face and split her lip open.

Yep. It’s true.

In one of the more surreal experiences of my human existence, I pulled behind a white Jeep SUV yesterday at the exit of a parking structure. There were no lines and a minimal wait. The driver of the SUV decided she was in the wrong lane and signaled for me to reverse, which I did. I then pulled into the next lane.

Apparently Jeep SUV lady didn’t like this, because she began screaming at me to move. I tried to back up again, but couldn’t, and she kept swearing at me and yelling to let her in front (by this time, we both could have easily gone). I calmly and inappropriately said, “I would if you weren’t being such a b***h.”

Well, turns out soccer mom #2 didn’t like soccer mom #1 (moi) calling her names, because she got out of her car (which I later found out had kids inside), walked around my car, reached in my front window, grabbed my ponytail and smacked me in the face.

So, I punched her in the mouth (thanks, cardio Thai boxing class!) and then somehow kicked her in the chest (I’m flexible, but did scrape my leg on the window). She walked away and called me the C word, and then kept yelling with blood covering her front teeth.

I honestly did not hit her that hard. It feels really weird that I made someone bleed.

The security guards and parking attendants at Hollywood and Highland were useless. They got on their walky talkies, but just observed her attack and called the police. They didn’t come help me during the attack. They wouldn’t let her out, however, and signaled to me to block her in, which I did until she reversed and threatened to hit my car with her car.

Then, psycho soccer mom reversed all the way through the parking lot to escape, but they caught her at the other gate.

Then it got complicated, because she claimed she just walked over to “talk” to me and that I randomly hit her. To make matters worse, she was swollen and bleeding and I was unmarked. Luckily, witnesses corroborated my story, but for a good while, I thought we were both going to jail. That would have been something to blog about!

In the end, I didn’t press battery charges. Her children would have ended up in custody, since her husband was out of town and she had no one to pick them up. She cried and said she was under a lot of stress and so on, and I figure that being held for two hours with fear of arrest likely taught her a road rage lesson.

Late last night, the brain surgeon and I were laughing about how comical the whole thing must have looked...Two soccer moms in t-shirts, leggings, tennis shoes and ponytails brawling through a minivan window.

Classic.

Paul Newman dies and my former sorority sister is senior advisor for McCain

Rarely am I saddened when a celebrity, especially one I don’t know (said as if I know so many) dies, but I’m really sad about Paul Newman. He died yesterday at the age of 83, having lost his personal battle with cancer.

Although he’s nearly as old as my own grandparents, there was such a young spirit about him. Besides being a phenomenal actor, he was also an activist and had a warm heart. How could anyone resist old blue eyes?

Goodbye Paul Newman. I know the whole world will miss you.



On a weird note, I’m not sure how I missed the fact that the former president of my sorority house (my pledge and initiation year) is the senior advisor for McCain. She’s all over the airways right now. Perhaps it’s because I don’t watch television very often and have to wait for it all on YouTube.



That makes a few Pi Beta Phis in the news this year (my personal fave is the brilliant and beautiful Eyee Hsu, who did some fabulous Olympic corresponding from Bejing), but I have to say, when you’re a flaming liberal like me, the news of Nicolle Devinish (now Wallace) is just plain fun.



Nicolle Wallace was always a staunch republican, even in such a liberal place as U.C. Berkeley, where we all went to college. That’s one of the only things I remember about her (besides the fact that she frequently spent the night at the Zate house). As our president, she had political fortitude even then and a way of staying pleasantly neutral and cute.

Did I like her then? I think I did. Although she had a reputation for being phony, she was always sweet on the surface.

I cannot judge Nicolle Wallace as a person today. I haven’t seen her in over a decade. But as a political figure, I can only say I’m thoroughly unimpressed with her positions, although she definitely remains poised, yet strong, under pressure and delivers her lines eloquently. She usually makes McCain and Palin look as good as they could ever look, which isn’t great considering their myriad deficiencies, but not for a lack of effort on Nicolle’s part.

Oh, and she isn’t so nice to the media, of which I am a member.

However, like our President Bush, Mrs. Wallace can party. Was it I who held her hair back while she bowed to the porcelain gods after that college party?

I’ll never tell.

Happy, Happy Birthday...Baby

On the East Coast, my daughter is now 6 and I have just over an hour until she turns 6 here on the Pacific Coast.

It is so cliché, but my how time flies.

This song from Mamma Mia makes me so mindful of it all, but it also makes me CRY CRY CRY...



And this one my dear friend played for me a few years ago, after her mother played it for her, and I still can't get through it without sobbing. Although I'm not a huge country fan, Martina McBride sings it so beautifully.



My firstborn and I had a little ritual tonight to say goodbye to 5. We had our last snuggle while she was 5, our last goodnight kiss and then a last 5 photo. Then we talked about how 5 will always be a part of her and that it isn’t really goodbye 5…just hello 6.

Less than a decade ago, I was such a different person. The rapid aging of my firstborn continually reminds me of how little time I have to get it right.

Not sure what “it” is, but I do have a constant yearning to get “it” right.

I remain in awe of the way the birth of this child transformed me. I was a feminist. Now I’m a new kind of feminist. I never believed I could stay home with children (How boring! How mindless!), and I never considered homeschooling (What wackos!), but now I spend the majority of my time finding ways to do both.

When I left medicine (and when medicine, in turn, left me), I felt like I’d go back. Medicine seemed the perfect combination of care giving and intellectualizing. But it is not that at all. While it is another topic, I know that what I do now is so much more important than what I thought I’d do then.

By virtue of my checkered past, many of my friends are physicians. Lately, by virtue of our age, many of those same friends are having children. They bear them while full of guilt for leaving their colleagues when they take blunted maternity leaves. They enjoy their babies a precious 6 weeks or 12 weeks or even 4 weeks before handing them off to spend much of their waking hours cared for by someone else (in the best cases, a relative) and it’s really hard. It’s heartbreaking.

As my daughter turns 6, I’m even more grateful that I have been so blessed to be able to provide for our family in such creative ways.

A few friends have given me such deep perspectives on life and the value of these children I’ve chosen to have, as have the children, of course. Really, there is nothing more important than raising them, nothing more precious than these moments that I am fortunate enough to share with them.

My daughter has taught me so much in her 6 short years. She truly has transformed me. As she grows, I miss every person I lose along the way. I will never hold that newborn again. I will never again watch her learn to walk. I will never again have to help her remember her ABCs. That baby is gone and if I think about it too much, it makes me profoundly sad.

Yet, I’m so excited to see who she is becoming. It’s hard to stay sad when there is so much to look forward to.

And each moment gone reminds me of how important it is to cherish every second...every silly tantrum, every funky desire, the 100,000th step...everything. These will be the stories we will share. This is the creation of our family history and our individual life histories. These moments -- each one of them -- create the person she will be regardless of which hat she eventually chooses to wear.

I asked her how the last 5 years have been and she said, “Really happy!”

I hope she always feels that way about her life.

I’m grateful for each moment of every day with her.

Happy birthday, Baby.

Homeschooling Fashionistas!

I’m only on my computer to write, but when I hit a block, I take 5 to 10 minutes to either:

• Check and respond to email
• Play on YouTube
• Mess about on FaceBook
• Google my friends (current and long lost) to see what they’re up to

So, I’m messing around on FaceBook yesterday, searching groups. I’ve added some groups on FaceBook and I have no idea why. Is there a purpose? Whatever.

Anyway, I’m into homeschooling, so I decided to check that out and I came across the VICTIMS OF HOMESCHOOL FASHION group.

Thank God I had a toilet near me, because things like that make me wanna pee. I mean, denim jumpers. Seriously.

So do things like this:

(The best part, is Mr. T is totally for real in this 80s fashion extravaganza.)

It all brought me back to thinking about the homeschooling community and the weird factor.

The truth is, not all homeschoolers are alike. I’ve seen fashionable homeschoolers.

But not many.

And I really don’t care what people wear. My friends come in all shapes and sizes, and many simply have different priorities – though some of my friends are extremely fashion oriented and make fashion really fun for moms and women in general.

However, after that conference, this fashion thing continued to weigh on my mind. I finally realized that what has piqued my interested isn’t really the blatant disregard for personal appearance on the part of more than a few in the homeschooling community, but the fact that looking purposely blah seems to be part of the culture.

In the group settings, lipstick wearing feels almost sacrilege and high heel wearing feels just plain hookerish.

When I had this epiphany, I had to call my friend who had attended the homeschooling conference with me. When at first I mentioned this homeschooling fashion thing a while ago, she simply said, “Seek help.”

Gotta love authentic friends.

She finally got what I was itchy about…AND admitted they were actually discussing this in one of the sessions.

In truth, there is an idea among some (many?) homeschoolers that you have to be ALL about the children and if you are a hottie mom, then you must be all about yourself.

I’ve also heard derogatory remarks about clean houses. Like, if your house is actually clean, you must be one of those parents – more interested in sterility and appearances than in letting your children play and enjoy equality in the household.

But that’s not true. Some people just have plenty of energy to do it all. Other people have housekeepers. Still others simply go out a lot and don’t have a lot of time to mess the house up. And still more are into FlyLady (I love FlyLady!).

The homeschooling community is very diverse and it is pretty much impossible to generalize, although I won’t say I saw a lot of Jimmy Choo or Prada at the CHN Expo.

But it brings me back to my thoughts about whether homeschooled kids are weird. Really, I didn’t meet a lot of weird ones. There were a few, for sure, but mostly because they were freaky smart, and there certainly weren’t any more than there are in the general public.

On a VERY POSITIVE note, those who were on the weirder side of the spectrum seemed happy and confident compared to their schooled counterparts, probably due to being spared a lifetime of teasing and bullying and to having the freedom to be their authentic selves.

And I think weird is a good thing. I really do. Still, appearances matter. They do. Call me shallow, but I’m not buying a denim jumper. Ever.

Well, maybe if it looks like this hee hee.

Today’s gratitude journal:

1. I’m grateful that I don’t own, and never have owned, never will own, nor does my (insert mother, sister, best friend, etc.) own a denim jumper.
2. I’m grateful that my dog doesn’t shed or drool, and usually doesn’t stink too badly.
3. I’m grateful that the brain surgeon got a raise in his pathetic salary.
4. I’m grateful that I’m writing regularly.
5. I’m grateful for the chance to carry, birth, grow and nurture my babies.

Toodles!

Boobs are multipurpose, and it's a beautiful thing!

I read this article the other day about women giving up on breastfeeding and it made me sad.

I have major issue when women decide not to breastfeed or give up due to some little thing. I try not to. Mostly I'm annoyed with the medical community and their casual attitude about it. Then I think about formula and the millions of people raised on it (myself included, for all but my first three months) and I think, well how bad can it be? People who resort to formula always say everyone turns out alright.

Of course, I do wonder, is everyone really alright? The formula generations are coincidentally coinciding with the obesity generations. That’s just one example, but numerous studies show the benefits of breastfeeding for everything from cancer risk to obesity to intelligence.

Still, I try to shut my mouth, because – for many people – being a mother is hard work. I find myself riding a hard line constantly between being supportive of the mother and advocating for the child.

For example, do I share my (likely unwanted) opinions and be one of those women who makes uncomfortable, judgmental comments that make other mothers feel bad? No. That doesn’t get anyone anywhere. Do I shut my mouth and control my lactivist urges? No. Then I’m not authentic.

Somehow, I try to find some middle ground. I try to support the woman and her baby. I try to be a positive example of breastfeeding and always offer to help.

And often I ask myself, why do I even care what other women feed their babies? The truth is, I have no idea why I care, but I do – even though I try not to.

But, Geeze, how weird is our society? People think it is just fine for children and adults to drink cow breastmilk (though baby cows don't even drink it as adults), yet they think it is weird to feed their own babies.

Strange, isn’t it?

Here is a beautiful breastfeeding video:



That video likely makes some people uncomfortable. Part of the problem is that many people cannot get the either-or mentality out of their minds. In other words, the breasts are sexual OR for feeding children and not both. But the truth is, they are sexual...and they are for feeding babies.

For more information,
Read this about the ingredients in formula.
Also, here’s a study on MSG in formula (which is a neurotoxin). Remember, there are many other names for MSG.

For breastfeeding entertainment, check out the comics by this great comic creator - who also happens to be a very cool homeschooling mom in Southern California.

Learn about breastfeeding. Encourage mothers. Support mothers. And if you have some weird issues with boobs, get therapy or do whatever you need to do to get over them. They are just boobs, after all.

Also, I'm not buying a stupid Hooter Hider until someone invents a Hairy Butt Crack Hider.

Did you seriously click on that link? If you did, well, you know. If you didn't...I really did find a hairy butt crack for you. Yummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmy.

Oh, and I love this t-shirt. Hilarious. Making milk is just one of my superpowers. The brain surgeon will attest to that.

Boobs are multipurpose, and it's a beautiful thing!


Toodles!

Unschooling Recordkeeping, Week 1

After going to the Expo, I had the inspiration to see what our life really looks like and how that fits into unschooling. Do we do “enough?” Am I a sort of unschooler? Are the kids really learning all the time? Should I practice keeping records in light of the fragile state of homeschooling in California?

By the way, our rights have been upheld for now, as of last Friday. Hooray! Support local homeschooling organizations to keep this an option for all families. Think twice before you withhold support: I was totally against homeschooling before and have had a complete turnaround, so I highly recommend learning all about it before forming an opinion.

First, here is one of my favorite YouTube videos ever, which has nothing and yet everything to do with homeschooling and childrearing:

Anyhoo, I downloaded this unschooling record keeper from The Home School Mom. I filled it out for a week and this is what it looked like:

Books I read aloud or with DD5:
M: A few chapters of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum
T: A few chapters of The Magician’s Nephew (book 1 of the Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis)
Th: A few more chapters of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz and a few chapters of Peter Pan.
Th through Su: Finished the Magician’s Nephew.

Audiobooks we listened to this week (all read by Jim Weiss ):
Stone Soup
Puss in Books
Rapunzel
The Brenen Town Musicians (Grimm)
Rumpelstiltskin (Grimm)
Things Could Always be Worse (Jewish folktale)
The Shoemaker and the Elves

Movies/Videos/TV watched:
M: Dragontales (PBS)
T: Maggie and the Ferocious Beast (Noggin)
W: Sesame Street (PBS)
F: Maggie and the Ferocious Beast, Franklin (Noggin)
S: Miss Spider’s Sunny Patch (Noggin)
Su: Miss Spider’s Sunny Patch (Noggin)

Classes/lessons attended:
Sa: Time-4-learning lessons (she volunteers to go do these and picks what she wants)
1.Background: It's Puzzling! Sound (Language Arts Extensions)
2. Story: Pasquale Goes to Market Read Along (Language Arts Extensions)
3. Story: Pasquale Goes to Market Read to Me (Language Arts Extensions)
4. Background: It's Puzzling! Consumers and Producers (Language Arts Extensions)
5. Phonics: Review ed (Language Arts)
6. Phonics: Review long o (Language Arts)
Su: Home cooking class (vegan agave apple pie with whole wheat crust) with discussions about nutrition, fractions and measuring.

Miscellaneous academia:
T: 1 hour French Lyric lessons in car
W: Verbal Math lesson 1
Th: Ocean ecology and marine biology at beach; 15 minutes French Lyric lessons
Sa: Human anatomy from “Looking into my Body” book and daddy’s spine model
Daily: Counting to 100 dance

Projects:
M: Painting and art at the Boone Children’s Gallery
T: Painting
W: Play-doh and Floam free sculpting. (If you haven't played with Floam, you must, even if you aren't a kid. Also, try Moon Sand. Buy it or, for even more fun, make your own.) Planted a thyme plant and forget-me-not flowers.
Sa: Creating cards and drawings for upcoming birthday invitations at Libby Lu, which my daughter loves, although it might just be the future shallow anorexia victim training unit.

Field Trips:
M: Boone Children’s Gallery and the Broad Contemporary Art Museum at LACMA
T: Kidspace Children’s Museum free family night
Th: Beach (marine biology and ocean ecology talks; sandcastles; swimming)
Sa: Grocery store (budget help; discussed different stores, picking fruits and veggies); took dogs to dog park.
Su: Courtyards Children’s Play Group. Brought felt solar system and taught the adults all about the planets. (FYI, not one adult there could name the planets in order from the sun, although most knew Pluto is a moon).

Discussions:
Helping out. DD5 would like to have "jobs" around the house, like clearing the table, vacuuming and feeding our lovely dog.
She really wants to master reading so she can read the big books (like the Narnia books) by herself.
She really likes verbal math, but doesn’t like worksheets.

Skills observed:
Many, many, but my favorite thing was when DD5 made up a story called “The Owl Who Was Not Nocturnal and His Friend the Bat.” It was deep.

Side note: As we all know, relationships and life in general become complex when we go against the norm. What a struggle for the owl and the bat! We decided we're going to co-author a children’s story and her Grandma Teri will illustrate it.

Physical Activity:
Lots of running, dancing, swimming, biking.
Th, F, Sa, Su: Pool
Th: Beach

Sa: Long bike ride

Okay, that’s what I recorded. Of course, there was much more to the week with lots of amazing, imaginative play and bonding with our friends who were in town.

Really, how could school ever beat such a rich and full week? The best part is that EVERY week is this great.

Here's my gratitude journal for the day:
1. I'm still feeling grateful that my mom is recovering from an infection and not another bout of breast cancer.
2. I'm grateful for the brain surgeon and how he always manages to give so much of himself to us, even though he gives and gives and gives at work all day long.
3. I'm grateful for my terrific friends.
4. I'm grateful for my children and the wonderful family members that surround them.
5. I'm grateful for FlyLady, because I've finally listened to her about the laundry and I'm loving it!

That line about the laundry is kinda pathetic, huh?

Toodles!

Mommy Breast Cancer Scare

I have to thank you guys for the occasional reminder email when I get behind or don’t finish what I was trying to say. I dropped off the face of the earth (though not off the FaceBook of the earth!) for a variety of reasons.

The main reason for my absence is that my mother suddenly developed unilateral cellulitis in the breast that she had cancer in almost exactly five years ago. The scary part of the whole thing is that it looked exactly like inflammatory breast cancer (IBC), which is the most aggressive form of breast cancer there is.

I tried not to freak out, but I did. I don’t want my mother going through breast cancer treatment again. She’s already had a lumpectomy, lymph node dissection, radiation, chemotherapy in addition to multiple biopsies and boob-squishing procedures. Plus, she’s on the most awful follow-up medication on the planet, which makes her walk like she’s 100 years old rather than 60.

Anyway, we are all so so so thankful it was just an infection. I had no idea, really, that cellulitis could be so well-demarcated on one breast and look just like IBC. The only clinical difference, really, was the low-grade fever she had and the fact that the antibiotics are working.

I had a wonderful grandmother (my mother's mother) who developed breast cancer when I was about my DD5’s age, and who died about 5 years later. That was my Grandma Irma and I still miss her so. I have such vivid memories of her. And that was so much of what was with me this last week…My DD5 is so very close with my mother and I couldn’t bear the thought of either of us losing her or her going through what I went through with my own grandmother at such a young age.

What a scare.

Okay, well, onto requests. How's that for an abrupt subject change?

I love hearing about favorite posts and so first I’ll tell you what people are reading most on here:
One of the most read posts is the Guinea Pig Gas Chamber Confession and a related post here. The next most read is I Have Fake Nails and My Children Swear so I had a Brain Surgeon Dinner Party.

I enjoy musing about why people like reading about my role in guinea pig euthanasia, but the fake nails post is particularly kitschy, so I get that one.

I also put up a lame pole for fun (see on right) and although people are reading this page, hardly anyone votes, a testament to its true lameness. I’ll get more creative. I promise.

Okay, so I’ve been reminded that I didn’t finish talking about the California Homeschool Network 2008 Expo, so I will do that briefly.

On Saturday, my two favorite sessions were “The Unradical Unschooler” and “Will the Real Unschooler Please Stand Up?” I think I’ve mentioned that I’m very fascinated by the unschooling concept in general, and these sessions were very cool. I read multiple Radical Unschooling boards regularly, but I’m not 100 percent aligned with the concept and its cultish feel at times. Still, I learn much. For now, I’m still categorizing myself as “relaxed eclectic,” because I’m am a bit of a dork who gets a rush out of buying curriculum type things (although I never use them as the creators intend) and of creating plans and schedules.

I ended up speaking up quite a bit in the “Will the Real Unschooler Please Stand Up?” session, and I was pretty excited that I could answer a lot of the newbie questions (even though I’m not a total unschooler myself). That was fun.

The most terrific part about Saturday was the Grandparents session and the Dad’s session, as my children had three grandparents and their dad present. They all went to the sessions. They found the crowd interesting and entertaining at their respective sessions, but really, the grandparent session seemed to be more about the naysayer types. Our kids are so lucky to have such loving and supportive grandparents who already are so on board with homeschooling.

The brain surgeon liked the dad session, especially because they kept talking about expectations and mentioned a few times how not all kids will grow up to be brain surgeons. You have to love the constant barrage of brain surgeon comments when you actually are one. We also have a scientist friend in our DD1’s playgroup who happens to work on rockets.

One rocket scientist and one brain surgeon, coming up!!!

However, they did mention in the dad meeting that we should have a "Board of Education" meeting (comprised of the two of us) once a month, so we decided that was a great excuse for a dinner date.

We went to a French restaurant, and as president of our private school, I told him what my current (constantly changing) unplan was, he said "okay" and we noshed on viddles.

So Saturday at the conference, we mostly hung out as a big happy family and had fun. I won a few door prizes and a $25 gift certificate to the vendor hall.

I was a bit annoyed because the brain surgeon was sick all weekend. He is always overworked and exhausted, so he is often worn out on weekends off (which really sucks because he only gets one every 12 days). It's not his fault so I know I'm being a major bi-atch to even be annoyed, but it is annoying. ANNOYING.

Sunday, my favorite session was Disney Schooling, although it was challenging watching my three kiddies during the session and listening from the doorway (since said brain surgeon was in bed recovering from work). That was a VERY cool session!!! I’m going to add Disney Schooling to my homeschool adventures (and maybe Hogwart Homeschooling, too!). I’ll keep ya posted.

Gratitude entry for the day:

1. I’m SO SO SO grateful that my mother has a breast infection (as hideous and horrible as it is) and not inflammatory breast cancer.
2. I’m SO SO SO grateful that my mother has a breast infection (as hideous and horrible as it is) and not inflammatory breast cancer.
3. I’m SO SO SO grateful that my mother has a breast infection (as hideous and horrible as it is) and not inflammatory breast cancer.
4. I’m SO SO SO grateful that my mother has a breast infection (as hideous and horrible as it is) and not inflammatory breast cancer.
5. I’m SO SO SO grateful that my mother has a breast infection (as hideous and horrible as it is) and not inflammatory breast cancer.

That one was worth repeating!

Okay, that’s it for now.

Toodles!

Homeschooling Conference Part I: The Weird Factor

My apologies for being off for a few days without warning, but I decided at the last minute to try a computer fast since I’m connected far too often, despite my unswerving resistance to getting a Treo, BlackBerry, iPhone or the like. However, my little laptops (one IBM, one Mac) and my Sprint card are enough to keep me overly connected.

But I did it and I survived. It was quite nice.

As you know, I went to the California Homeschool Network 2008 Family Expo with several members of my family in tow. I, the brain surgeon, our three kids and three of their grandparents attended. My friend and her two children came along, as well, and we all had adjoining hotel rooms.

Overall, it was a great time and I learned quite a bit. It was a wonderful experience.

I think I’ll split this into three posts, since the conference was three days and tonight I’ll talk about day 1 (which was Friday).

First, I’m going to talk about the weird factor, and thereby risk completely alienating myself from the entire homeschooling community:

One of the common fears about homeschooling is that homeschoolers will – by the very nature of homeschooling – raise weird kids. I’ve always thought this was one of the most ridiculous things I have ever heard. I mean, I went to private school until 8th grade and there were weird kids there. Then I went to public high school in a very hip and affluent school district and guess what? There were weird kids there, too. Then I went to college, grad school and med school and – you guessed it – weird people were enrolled in all of these. Med school, in particular, was geekville (it just doesn’t seem to attract a lot of ex-cheerleaders or prom queens, although there are a few).

I say that the primary determinant of weirdness is parents. Weird parents tend to produce weird kids and cool parents generally produce cool kids (however you want to define each…the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree and so on). While it is not always the case, it is indeed often so.

So, I deduced, the same would also be true in the homeschooling community – there would be a balance of weird, less weird and more typically cool, just like there is anywhere else.

But I am wrong. Astonishingly wrong.

Granted, I am told that only 3 percent of all California homeschoolers (currently counted as 166,000) are members of the California Homeschool Network (join already, people!), and not all of those attended the conference. Still, it might be safe to assume that the conference would hold a representative sample of homeschoolers in general, since in attendance was everyone from the right-wing super conservative Holy Roller homeschoolers to the anything-goes types.

One person, who shall remain nameless, had this to say about the group aesthetics:

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many unattractive people gathered together in one place.”

Ouch.

I have heard many homeschoolers talk about how they don’t want their children to be bullied or how they never fit in during school, and I can’t help but think that this is why many of them are homeschooling. While I agree that school sucks, the social parts were what always kept me going. Socially, I loved school. It was the academics (boring, often irrelevant and very arbitrary), the teachers (lame with a few notable exceptions) and the bureaucracy (wasteful, useless, coercive, controlling) that I had issues with. Socially, I thought it was a blast.

I’m a Barbie girl in a Barbie world…

(Did you know Mattel sued over that song?).

But really, many of the conference attendees seemed to have just given up when it comes to appearances. I saw coke-bottle glasses that looked as if the wearers went into the eyeglass store and said, “I want the most unattractive glasses you have, and not the kind that are intentionally ugly to make a fashion statement,” as well as hair that just grows – no cuts, no style and certainly no color. No shampoo for the frizziest of menopausal hair.

That’s all good and fine. I’m all for letting go of our shallower selves, but I can’t wonder how much of the appearances were self-esteem issues and how much of them had tortured social lives during their childhoods that are motivating them to homeschool.

Like, I just wanna misfit in!

So that’s my take on the weird factor. To combat it, I’m going to sign my daughter up for cheerleading camp next week. (kidding)

As for the actual conference, on day 1, we tried to get there for the first session, but missed it, so my first session was “Fearless Homeschooling” led by Tammy Takahashi, who has this Website. I had all three kids and no real backup at this point, so I actually heard very little of what she said and had to bail out early. My friend stayed and took notes. Homeschooling is scary…jump in, and so on.

Then we decided we’d trade off for the rest of the day. There were so many things to choose from, it was tough. The next session I attended was by a homeschooling ER doctor who talked about ADHD diagnoses and whether a child has ADHD or is a kinesthetic learner. I worry about my little boy in this regard, because he is EXTREMELY active…like if I throw him in a group of 40 other 2- to 4-year-old boys, he will be the most active – by far. However, he’s also far ahead of the bell curve on every developmental milestone and can concentrate for long periods of time.

Well, I gained pounds of reassurance from this physician as well as several tips to help keep me sane and be of assistance to my little ball of energy.

During the next session, I babysat the five-under-5 while my friend hopped around the sessions and then we all got in the FOOD LINE FROM HELL and had the strangest veggie burgers ever followed by an ice cream sundae line, which (JOY!) included soy ice cream. That night, I took the five-under-5 to a bedtime story with Jim Weiss while my friend session-hopped again. Jim is a professional storyteller and I dropped some serious cash on his CDs before the conference ended. I highly recommend you check him out for books on CD. He categorizes them by age…preschool up to adult. He’s super entertaining.

That was it for Friday. The brain surgeon was operating very late, so slept at home, and my mother blew into town around bedtime. I read the middle third of the first book of the Chronicles of Narnia (since we left the Harry Potter book we were reading at our friends’ house) to my babes in bed and we all crashed.

Here are five things I’m grateful for today:

1. I’m grateful that my children constantly spill things on the floor, because it helps me keep the floors spic and span.
2. I’m grateful for all the people who put together the CHN 2008 Expo and volunteered their time, allowing us to have an amazing weekend.
3. I’m grateful for my husband, who had the same boyish energy my darling little boy has – and is a shining example of how that excess energy can be channeled.
4. I’m grateful for our little home, because there is less for me to clean and it’s easier to keep track of all the little ones.
5. I’m grateful for my parents (all of them), because they are so incredibly supportive and wonderful.

That’s all for now. More about day 2 (along with more astonishing and shallow revelations) tomorrow.

Toodles!

My Friends are Hoo Hoos -- and I'm Totally Not Lion

Okay, here’s a video my friend Tom made.



I had to share this because I think it is just freaking funny and that Tom might be insane. I realize it might only be funny because I know him. Tom is an example of the types of hoo hoos I seem to bond with in general. I hate to say this if you are one of my friends – or one of my almost-friends – because that makes you a hoo hoo, too. I tend to meet arrogant hoo hoos…the types who are hoo hoos but have no clue about their overall hooeyness.

Oh, and for a definition, my “almost-friends” are those people I might have been true friends with pre-kids, when I had time to have coffee, drinks or dinner with random people and nurture those for-no-reason-other-than-the-fact-that-I-think-you’re-cool relationships. Now, I tend to just hang out with other people who have kids. If you have children, you get this. Also, the people I hang out with typically have young kids. If you have or ever had young kids, you also get this.

Navigating these friendships is trickier than a one-on-one friendship, however, because the kids and the adults all have to get along, or else it just doesn’t work.

And when it comes to getting along, you better either have similar parenting ideas or a belief that other people’s parenting ideas are their own, because getting judgmental on the parenting front is just asking for trouble.

And these mommy cliques…well they can be vicious. We’re talking meow…hiss…scratch.

This weekend I’ll be blogging from the California Homeschool Network 2008 Family Expo. I know. I know. I keep talking about it, but I’m just so excited. I dig this homeschooling thing, because I like that alternative buzz it gives me. I get to be controversial without dying my hair pink or sharing TMI…or rather, TMsI (the s is for “sex”). Tra la la.

I’m planning to keep up my gratitude journal. Have you started yours? If not, you should.

Here’s my how to on the gratitude journal:

1. Get a notebook, a piece of paper, a computer or whatever else you can put your thoughts to physically.


2. Write down at least five things you are grateful for every day.


3. Read over it occasionally.

Step 3 is optional, but I find it to be an additional source of inspiration if I’m feeling negative. Okay, yes, I’ve only been doing this for a few days, but I’m a believer that this will change my attitude entirely. It already has changed my mood.

If you do this, I’d love for you to share your entries. Write me or paste them into the comments section (I have no idea how to show the comments yet, but I’m working on it).

Here are my five gratitude entries for the day:

1. I’m grateful for my newest writing/editing gig at FiercePharma, because the people there seem really nice, even though we’ve only spoken via phone and Internet.


2. I’m grateful that I’m no longer in the world of academic medicine and that I provide truly comprehensive care to the people who matter the most to me in the world – my children.


3. I’m grateful for the option to homeschool our children.


4. I’m grateful for Earth Café, who makes the best raw vegan cheesecake on the planet.


5. I’m grateful for birth control and reproductive freedom.

Okay, now is this video for real…

or are these people lion?

I’m now laughing hysterically at my own stupid joke.

Toodles!

The End of the Fast

I suck at daily blogging. That’s okay.

Let go of perfectionism…let go of perfectionism…let go of perfectionism…

I made it almost through DAY SEVEN...sort of. I did a little browsing about the Master Cleanse just before going to bed including some information on the man who first developed and promoted it, Stanley Burroughs, who is widely considered a quack. That’s all fine and good, but I also believe the true health benefits of fasting most typically come from a water fast, if at all, because really the body is still processing something on any other type of fast.

Still, the perfectionist in me wanted to finish, just because I said I would. However, when I started to prepare my Master Cleanse concoction in the morning, I realized I had downed an entire liter of maple syrup in less than a week. Now I don’t eat much processed food, so pancakes are rare, but if I do eat a bite of someone else’s pancake, I usually go for the part without the syrup. The fact that I had consumed that much sugar suddenly grossed me out. So, I switched to a juice fast right then and combined my lemons with some oranges and spinach and had a huge, tasty smoothie.

When it came time to make the kids' lunch, I decided I’d just eat. So I did. I didn’t phase back in. I didn’t do anything special. I was totally fine. This might be because the food we make at home is vegan and we generally don't eat a lot of processed foods.

I will say this about the Master Cleanse if you are into crash diets (I’m not)…you drop a ton of weight very quickly. Even my skinny jeans were roomy.

Since I didn’t blog for a few days, I didn’t do my gratitude journal entries, so I’m going to make a longer list of 15. Here goes:

1. I’m grateful that my children are so forgiving when I’ve had a bad mommy moment.
2. I’m grateful that the brain surgeon gets the whole weekend off next weekend so he can come to CHN's 2008 Family Expo with us.
3. I’m grateful that my step mom is walking in the Avon 3-day, that nobody I love has cancer and that my mom is in remission.
4. I’m grateful that I have such a huge, loving family.
5. I’m grateful that I have caring, brilliant, strong-minded-yet-gentle-spirited women that I can call friends.
6. I’m grateful that I have work that is intellectually stimulating, constantly evolving, interesting and flexible and – most importantly – that I can mostly work from home and be with my babies.
7. I’m grateful that my great big minivan holds our whole family, tons of crap and yet still gets pretty great gas mileage.
8. I’m grateful that I, the brain surgeon and our children are healthy.
9. I’m grateful for our doggie.
10. I’m grateful that I live in a walking neighborhood.
11. I’m grateful that the psychobitch I become when I’m PMSing is not my true self, and that she’s only around for about three days a month.
12. I’m grateful that I no longer have to walk the dog (through the gate, down the stairs) with my newborn in a sling and my toddler on one hip while holding my 4-year-old’s hand, a dog leash and some poop bags.
13. I’m grateful that my friend told me about Jon and Kate Plus 8, which ends any pity party I might be trying to host for myself during an intense parenting day. (Trust me...if you think you've got a tough parenting gig, check those two out!)
14. I’m glad that I can’t remember the last time my children were sick.
15. I’m glad that my husband is the most involved father I know.

That was easy.

I swear, I’ve only been doing this for a few days and my outlook is brighter. It pays to have gratitude.

On another note, I love this blog post on an unschooled kid (as in no school or lessons EVER), who decided to go to public high school for his freshman year.

I know I already said it, but I’m so excited to go to the CHN Conference, and I’m super excited to go to the “Unradical Unschooling” and the “Will the Real Unschooler Please Stand Up” sessions. Really, there are so many sessions I'm excited about that I cannot even attend them all. Plus, we're meeting up with our favorite homeschooling family and bringing the grandparents.

Finally, after my fast ended, the brain surgeon wanted to have a little party, since he finally was able to come home after about 4 nonstop days in two hospitals, so he brought us each a delightful cupcake from the world famous Sprinkles Cupcakes. Mine was cherry. For the record, Sprinkles cupcakes come in a wonderful variety of flavors that are not vegan, are not raw and certainly are not part of the Master Cleanse, but they are fabulous. And that's coming from someone who doesn't particularly like cake or cupcakes. Now that’s cheating. Mmmmmm…Then the brain surgeon’s pager went off again and he left. Boo hoo.

Toodles!

I’m Freezing

This marks the end of DAY SIX of the Master Cleanse (I love putting different links for this) and I’m just really, really cold. Really, I’m feeling abnormally cold. It’s like I blew my thyroid gland or something. Apparently this is normal and my friend who is now phasing out (I’m so jealous of her orange juice drinking) was also feeling really cold. My other friend quit today…made it 2.5 days. I’m even more jealous of her, but I’m persisting. Four more days.

Although, I am going to the California Homeschool Expo next weekend, which means food on Friday night. So, I need to figure out if 2.5 days is enough time to phase back in.

The brain surgeon was called in for the third time this week, so he's spending the night on his feet in the operating room AGAIN. Poor dear.

So, I’m trying to get some organization to this blog thing, but I don’t know how that will look yet. Maybe I’ll put in a tips section now that I’ve written like 50 “How To” articles on everything from how to make a smoothie to how to groom llamas (yes, llamas). We’ll see.

I wanted to start a gratitude journal, so I thought I’d just do it on here. My goal is to list five things a day that I’m grateful for, so here goes. These are NOT in order of importance.

1. I’m grateful that my three beautiful babies are healthy, happy, intelligent and funny…and that they smell like warm laundry most of the time (except for when they smell like poop or vomit, which is a fair amount of the time).
2. I’m grateful for my fabulous husband…that he is kind, whip-smart, funny, athletic, father of the millennium and more and I'm grateful that I miss him, because that means I still think he's hot.
3. I’m grateful for my mother, who is always 100% there for me and always supportive, loving and kind (also, I worry less because she does enough worrying for 10 of me).
4. I’m grateful for my family, in all directions (up, down and sideways).
5. I'm grateful for free parking. I pulled up to the 3-hour meter today at the soccer field and there was already 2 hours and 20 minutes paid. Yippee! (The best part is the meters don’t start until 9 and it was only 9:15).

There are so many things, it is hard to stop at five. I think I'm going to try to make them more specific (rather than like, kids, husband, health, family, job, weather or whatever). We'll see.

Oh, and speaking of stinky kids…My two favorite little kid stories at the moment are: “I Love You, Stinky Face” and “My Monster Mama Loves Me So.”

Okay, I’d have hot chocolate (vegan, of course), but I can’t, so I’m going to go crawl under 10 blankets now.

Toodles.

Life and then Death (Guinea Pig Gas Chamber Addendum)

First, I made it through DAY FIVE (that's halfway, folks!) of the Master Cleanse. I really cannot believe I haven't eaten any food in that long. It's actually quite insane. I made the mistake of telling one of my clients (who happens to be a GI doc) about what I'm doing and he definitely implied that I'm insane. I told him I wasn't doing it because I thought it was healthy in the nutritional sense (although I do believe some fasting can be healthy) and that I was doing it to see if I could do it. Okay, so I sound even more insane.

I was definitely thinking about food again today. DEF IN IT ELY. That looks funny with spaces.

And although I didn't do this to lose weight, I definitely feel skinnier. DEF I NITE LY. I moved the spaces just because I'm weird.

Onto the next thing.

Today's hectic moment was when I took the kids to camp (very late today) at 2:00 p.m. I was proud of myself for remembering to bring in photos for "Share Your Family Photos Day." I was about to take the baby and run when I realized that there were an awful lot of parents hanging around. They have a open door policy for parents (which I absolutely require for anything my children attend without me), but there were a lot more parents than usual.

And then it hit me.

Ahhhh! It's swim day and I don't have anything with me! That's if you don't count the three kids, the snacks, the diapers, the changes of clothes, the water and so on. So I run the two younger kids (because my boy wasn't ready to separate yet) back to the car, back to the house, up the stairs to grab the suits and sunscreen. Back out of the house, back down the stairs, back to the car.

Oops! No towels. Back up the stairs, back into the house, la la la la la.

So, we finally get back to camp and guess what? Both kids are crashed in their carseats. This would be fine, except I've got the eldest's swimsuit and towel and I'm supposed to supervise.

I decided to call because I figured one of the counselors (they all feel sorry for me, I think) could come grab the swimsuit and towel and watch her for a bit so she could swim with her friends. But they've already gone to the pool.

The dilemma...make my eldest sit by the side of the pool while all her friends swim so the younger two can nap or carry the younger two, plus the huge bag of swimsuits and towels, in.

I went for the latter. Luckily, my little boy woke up shortly into the adventure and walked (carrying two sleeping children -- though I do it frequently -- is really, really hard), but my baby slept all the way to the pool and throughout the changing process.

Then we all had fun swimming together.

Okay, so onto the guinea pig gas chamber confession addendum. I left out a few things when I first posted about it. First, Marlowe was a well-loved, well-cared for, adorable guinea pig. He had a throne in the central part of his family's house. He wasn't neglected. The cause of paralysis was unknown.

Second, my friend could not find anyone to help her with him on the Friday night when she discovered the abscesses on his paralyzed little legs. Not her vet, not the local all-night clinic...no one. He was shaking and suffering. The decision to attempt home euthanasia was not one she took lightly.

Okay, that's it for the disclaimers.

Now, enough time has passed that I can write some of the funny stuff. Although we were crying and desperately searching for a way to put Marlowe out of his misery (her in person; me via telephone), I'm sure it was a movie-worthy moment. In fact, maybe I'll throw it into a screenplay. Thelma and Louise -- both vegetarian -- trying to kill a beloved guinea pig.

Second, that dang guinea pig just wouldn't die. I mean, come on folks! A major dose of codeine followed by over an hour in a gas chamber (although I do use that term loosely) breathing in CO2 and HE DIDN'T -- no HE WOULDN'T -- die.

Imagine my friend later, driving over an hour away in L.A. on a Friday night to find a vet that takes small animals...dragging herself and Marlowe with his cough syrup stained fur into the place. It was obvious that euthanasia at home was attempted. Terribly obvious.

She felt guilty. She looked guilty.

And apparently, she looked really, really sad, because after going over the burial options ("Um, that's okay. You can cremate him."), they pulled out the big guns.

"Would you like us to call in a grief counselor?"

This was precisely the moment of comic relief my distraught friend so desperately needed, but it came at precisely the wrong time. She should have earned an academy award for keeping a straight face.

The next morning, I told my mother the whole story (I was still somber from the experience) and the poor woman -- who really was trying to be sympathetic with our plight -- could not contain herself.

She just burst out laughing.

Toodles!

So Clean!

It’s the 4th day of my Master Cleanse and today was really easy. I wasn't really hungry at all and I didn't really have any cravings. I did my maple syrup splurge again and loved every drop. I’d love for someone to comment and tell me if this is “wrong” for some reason.

I’m over halfway through my first run of A New Earth. I listen to some parts repeatedly, hoping it will all sink in. Oh, if I could only be present all the time.

Still, I’ve been practicing and I feel like I’m getting better at staying in the now.

Okay, so this is a real conversation with my children today after my 3.25-year-old boy had his first bite of meat during his first week of camp with his sister.

Older sister: “And it was meat pepperoni, not veggie pepperoni! From a cow!”

Me: “I think it’s from a pig, but maybe it’s a cow. Maybe both. I can’t remember.”

Son: “I think it’s from a pig. They put spices up his butt and then they chopped him up and made him into flat circles and then I put him on a pizza and they put it in the microwave and I ate it!”

Me: “So, how was it?”

Son: “Kinda spicy.”

Where my little love got this unique, albeit not far off, understanding of the pepperoni manufacturing process is beyond me. I almost peed my lemon-maple-syrup-cayenne peppered self.

Here’s today’s schedule for those who wrote and said they liked reading about the crazy logistics of my life.

5-something a.m.
The brain surgeon left for work

6:00 a.m.
I get up to finish writing and submitting the morning pharma news.

6:01 a.m.
All three kids wake up (I was in bed with them), so I plop them in front of the television. My 20-month-old says, “Hi-5!” and I feel like a loser because she is already requesting specific shows. I then realize the unschoolers would think I'm a loser because she doesn't already know how to operate the remote.

6:30 a.m.
Feel guilty and make breakfast. Also feel weak, so I down a glass of Master Cleanse concoction.

7:00 a.m.
Nanny arrives early on Wednesdays. Shut “office” door and focus on the news.

8:00 a.m.
Finish news. Head in to shower. Decide there’s no time if I want to play with the little ones for a bit, so skip it (pee-ew). Get oldest ready for soccer camp. It’s Wacky Wednesday and we planned her whole backwards outfit, kooky ponytails and face painting, but now she just wants to dress in soccer gear. Now where did I put the dirty uniforms?

8:30 a.m.
Kiss babies goodbye, which makes them scream hysterically. Head back in to lift their spirits and to remind them to wave from the balcony. For my boy, this requires me saying, “Whatever you do, don’t let Hulk wave to me from the balcony. I’ll be scared all day!” Smiling, my children run with Carmen and the Incredible Hulk to the balcony and all is well.

9:05 a.m.
Late to soccer camp again! At least their still doing the “hello” song this time. Run my camper in and then try to find some parking in Godforsaken Beverly Hills so I can get some work done.

9:21 a.m.
I park across the street in the tennis club parking structure. I know the exact time because I was watching my parking ticket like a hawk. Work in my car for 1 hour and 53 minutes (with a pee break, thank you MC), because they only have free parking for an hour and I’m cheap. And this is why I bought a car with AC plugs.

11:30 a.m.
Park next to the soccer field and watch my dear daughter play. The next half hour is crucial, because I’ve got to pick her up at 12, conduct a phone interview at 12 and avoid a parking ticket in the 1-hour zone. Who says motherhood doesn’t involve strategic planning? I’m frequently in two places at once.

11:56 a.m.
A space opens up ahead of me on the curb, so I move into it, just in case that cop I saw already marked me.

11:58 a.m.
Run to get my daughter, engaging in the barest of chitchat with the coach and another mom. “Thanks, bye!” Cross the park to community center where I can conduct interview while my laptop stays plugged into an outlet and watch my daughter play on the monkey bars at the same time.

12:04 p.m.
All set up and ready to go, but the doctor I’m interviewing for a deadline today does not answer. Decide to work on some how-to articles I’ve been assigned and try him again in a few minutes. Get an email that my ghostwriting book project that has been on hold is back in action and I have to get it written NOW! Um, okay. Peek at FaceBook and update my status.

12:30 p.m.
Give up and call doctor’s colleague while sudden burst of random children begin to shout incessantly in the community center. Can I mute and leave a message at the same time? I’ve got about 25 minutes until I have to hit the car. Just before I hit the 1-hour-parking deadline, I give up and email my interview questions to both of the review authors I’m interviewing, grab my daughter, model a bad jaywalking habit, and strap her into her 5-point-harness booster seat, even though my friends make fun of me.

12:45 p.m.
Home for lunch with the kids. Nurse the baby. Change my daughter out of her soccer clothes. My son wants to play with his friend a bit longer, so we decide to go to their afternoon camp activity late. We hang out and relax a bit. Nanny goes home.

2:30 p.m.
Take the older kids to their other summer camp, where said carnivorous pizza incident occurred. My little boy looks tired and so I contemplate taking him home for a nap, but he says he wants to stay. It’s his only official activity this summer and first real camp. Still, I feel like I barely saw him yet today. This must be what it's like for school parents.

3:00 p.m.
Home and the baby naps! Woohoo! This only happens like once a week and I contemplate watching some mindless drivel, but have piles of work to do so I buckle down.

4:45 p.m.
Poor baby! I have to wake her up to go get the other two from camp. She’s not happy. I nurse her while walking to the car, which involves two flights of stairs. I live in a liberal, predominantly gay neighborhood, so no one notices the baby stuck to my boob. By the time I get to the minivan, she’s happy to hop in her seat.

5:00 p.m.
Pick up kids. On time, because its 10 bucks if I'm late (is that per kid?). Play at park for a half-hour because I’m in a meter and that’s how much change I put in (kinda on purpose due to park burnout).

5:45 p.m.
Make dinner. Feed overtired, cranky kids and clean up the kitchen and livingroom while they eat (plug for FlyLady!). Gawk at them anyway because with summer camp, I feel like I barely see them!

6:15 p.m.
Hooray! The brain surgeon is home early tonight. We tag team the baths and showers. Clean the bathrooms while the kids are in there (another FlyLady plug). The brain surgeon fends for himself for dinner, as he does on most nights. I feel moderately guilty about this, but with his unpredictable schedule and absolute hatred of leftovers, I’m not sure I should, but I do.

7:00 p.m.
Brush kids’ teeth and the five of us hop into bed for a very chaotic and cuddly story time while the brain surgeon turns totally innocuous storybook lines into come-hither innuendos. We flirt while I read the Disney Princess Look and Find and the Kit Kittredge movie book, which we enter into their library log (prizes for doing what we do already? That rocks!). Then I read 12 chapters of Captain Underpants before I decided I can no longer take my children’s overtired insanity. The older two were out in less than 10 minutes, but the baby was on crack or something. She pulled her sleeping brother’s hair at one point and dropped a sippy cup on her sister’s nose at another. Her sister burst into tears and passes back out.

8:58 p.m.
Interrupt brain surgeon’s channel surfing and have him finish putting the baby to sleep.

9:00 p.m.
Enjoy a tablespoon of maple syrup (pathetic, isn’t it?) and then get back to writing how-tos and reviewing info for the book I’m ghostwriting.

11:00 p.m.
Blog! Check my FaceBook page and chat with my long lost friend (Cheers to you!).

11:45 p.m.
Whoops. A long blog. Finish it and hit the hay.

Hey, that’s living! It's a beautiful life!

Toodles!

I Licked the Spoon and it was Divine!

I’m looking for tomorrow’s news for FiercePharma, which is always very interesting. Sometimes when I'm researching for the news, I get sidetracked by the stories. Other times, I get the urge to blog. Like now.

The brain surgeon also is having me edit some things for his M&M tomorrow. My wifely duties are never done, but I’m happy to perform.

So, what day am I on with the Master Cleanse? Day 3. That’s right.

DAY THREE: First, it is true that the urge to eat has mostly subsided. I find this peculiar and interesting. Second, the little trick I heard about was to lick the spoon after you’ve put in the rest of the maple syrup for a little sweet treat. I’m not much into maple syrup so on day 1, I didn’t bother. On day 2, however, this woman became desperate for a little variety. I licked the spoon and dare I say, it was divine.

As a result, I went truly wild today. Since I don’t particularly like the sweetness of the Master Cleanse concoction, I had watered it down the first two days and even went down to 11 tablespoons of maple syrup rather than 14.

Today, I had a brilliant thought: What if I just had the whole, entire, divine, delicious spoonful of maple syrup at once. If I subtracted some from the concoction anyway, what difference would it make? So, I did it and OMG it was a little spoon of heaven. Truly!

Oops, I did it again. I was fixing the kids lunch between soccer camp and park camp and I thought, “Well, I did skip 3 tablespoons of maple syrup, so having another one won’t hurt!” Yum…another spoonful of joy.

Now is the time when those late-night munchies start to hit. I figure, I’ve got a lovin’ spoonful left.

Unless someone gives me a reason to skip it between when I finish typing and when I reach the refrigerator, DAY THREE of the Master Cleanse will be the day of the maple syrup shots.

Toodles!

Hopeless Signer-Upper

Everyone calls me a signer-upper. I’ve always been one. I was the kid who’d read through the community center and church bulletins to look for all the classes offered for children each session. It’s even how I learned to break-dance (totally true).

That probably makes me a “good” homeschooler, since I’m pretty adept at scouring every possible publication for every possible kid-friendly activity and class in town. I present these to the kids as options and we end up horribly overscheduled most of the time.

That is just part of my personality, I suppose. The brain surgeon suffers from the same malady.

I’m sort of a vicarious signer-upper at the moment, because as most mothers will tell you, there is little time for pursuing one’s non-familial interests when the kiddies are under 5. So I’ve just became a signer-upper in another way.

Oh, Master Cleanse.

I really haven’t even figured out why I’ve decided to do this. One of my best friends mentioned she was doing it. I said, “have fun” and tried to forget about it. Of course, the “me too!” in me just couldn’t resist thinking about it. I don’t even really “believe” in the Master Cleanse. I do think fasting is great, though I’ve never done it for more than a day. I have been meaning to read Joel Fuhrman’s book on it (Fuhrman is not a fan of the Master Cleanse, by the way).

Anyway, to do this, you mix 14 tablespoons of fresh squeezed lemon juice (I squeeze it every morning), 14 tablespoons of maple syrup and ¼ teaspoon of cayenne pepper into 2 liters of water and drink that all day.

Some people also drink a cup of Senna tea in the morning and at night or drink (chug, gag down, whatever) a saltwater solution (2 teaspoons of saltwater in 32 ounces of warm water) in place of one cup of the tea.

Sounds a little bulimic to me.

DAY ZERO: I didn’t do the ease in thing, since I eat a mostly vegan diet, but I did the saltwater thing the night before I started the drink thing. The brain surgeon – with all of his surgical concerns about sodium balance – probably would have freaked out on me if he knew I ingested a bunch of salt for no real reason. Plus, I usually try to eat a low sodium diet (we don’t cook with it and we buy low sodium tomato sauce, etc.), so it’s really out of character. And salty!

I’ll skip the details (I’m not a girl who discusses such things), but you can check out what it says about the saltwater thing here. Trust me, it works. I’m not doing that again.

DAY ONE: I made the maple syrup concoction, which I found surprisingly tasty. It was true that I was never hungry throughout the day, but WHOA, I have NEVER EVER thought about food so much. I would have eaten the elevator I rode in if someone put chocolate sauce on it. Seriously. It seemed like everyone talked about nothing but food, everything smelled of food and food was just created to torture me.

At night, I had to do the grocery shopping for the family and that was even more difficult. Trader Joe’s is always cooking sample things. Sometimes they are meaty smelling and don’t appeal to me, but last night it was Eggplant Parmesan. Oh, the temptation. I’m usually good at avoiding cheese, but woman, did that smell good.

Then I went to Whole Foods to get the Senna Tea, since I found out one brand, aptly named Smooth Move, came in chocolate and decided it was important after all.

When I got home, the kids were still up (the brain surgeon rarely has success with bedtime, though you’ll never hear him admit it), so in the process of putting them to bed, I crashed and slept quite well.

DAY TWO: Today was much easier. I had my Senna tea this morning while driving my children to the soccer field for the first day of my eldest daughter’s soccer camp. She had her new pink and black cleats with her shin guards and her David Beckham (um, is that a shoe in there?)soccer uniform from the L.A. Galaxy charity game we went to a while back and I have to say…she was definitely the cutest kid on the field.

On the way to the next activity, it hit me: I’m breastfeeding. Should I be drinking the tea? (I had already checked on the cleanse itself, which is fine, especially since my daughter is 20 months old). An online search of several sites tonight confirmed my greatest fears…If I keep drinking the tea, my daughter might just be on the fast track to diarrhea-ville. No more chocolate tea for me.

It wasn’t really that satisfying anyway.

Plus, I’m not really obsessing about food anymore. It's weird.

More about day three (and what IS satisfying) tomorrow.

Toodles!

In Memory of Marlowe

I promised my friend that I would update my post about the Guinea Pig Gas Chamber, and I promise to do that soon, but I've been to three amusement parks (Disneyland, Knott's Berry Farm and Knott's Soak City) with four children in one week and I might just collapse from exhaustion if I don't get some sleep NOW.

So, until then, here is a photo of the VERY LOVED and WELL CARED for Marlowe, with one of his proud owners.

Awww.....wasn't he cute? And isn't his little owner even cuter? She's my murderous (only kidding) friend's daughter.

Poor little critter. Paralysis is a tough gig when you're a L.A. guinea pig.

Short, poignant posts?

Okay, maybe I'll just try for short. Poignant is a tough call.

So, the day before yesterday we were at the Grove with my brother and niece, who are visiting from Tahiti and there was a huge line outside the Mac store. We quickly figured out that the line was for the new iPhone 3G.

Okay, maybe I'm jaded. Maybe I'm no fun. Still, all I could think was, WHY? Why wait 5 hours for a stupid phone? You could get it the next day with probably no wait at all.

Never mind the fact that the new, cheaper phone actually costs more if you do the math with the contract.

So, the reason these people were waiting must have been to be "first," just like my 3- and 5-year-old children always want to be. "Me first!!!"

I wonder what this desire of grown-ups to be "first" signifies. I mean, obviously only one person was actually "first" to get the iPhone 3G and the rest were all not "first."

Here's one blogger's take of his experience at the store.

In the context of reading and listening to A New Earth, the waiting to be first had a deeper meaning to me. What is the ego's role in the urge to wait in line and be first?

An Abundant Life: Hectic and Exhausting, but Joyful!

Okay, first, this is funny. On June 25th I called my sister SO EXCITED because I was sure I had just seen Britney Spears on Melrose. Paparazzi surrounded her. She was posing and smiling for the camera. I was a few car lengths back so I could only see her from behind at first, but when I got up close, she walked around the front of her white Mercedes (just like Britney has) and opened the door right in front of my bumper. I wasn’t looking at her at that point though…I was more interested in avoiding running over the stupid paparazzi who walked right in front of my car.

Anyway, I’m all excited, telling my sister about how Britney looks so tiny and how her hair is dark and my sister is like, um, have you seen TMZ lately? I was like, TM what? Like I have time for that stuff. So she tells me Britney isn’t particularly tiny this week and she also isn’t brunette.

So, we Google “June 25 Melrose shopping” and variations thereof and find out its some reality star (Audrina Partridge) that neither of us had even heard of from The Hills. I have heard of The Hills, of course, just not this particular reality startlette (yes, I think I invented that word). Anyway, the point of this whole story is the following picture, in which you can see the front end of my minivan about two car lengths back, rear left. See it? If not, just squint a little.

My car is now an extra in a bad paparazzi photo. Isn’t fame fabulous?

Really exciting, I know. Audrina was apparently picking up her laundry. Even more exciting is this: If you don’t know who she is and you Google her to find out, like we did, you will certainly find nude pictures of Audrina Partridge (no link from me, boys! Do your own dirty work), as she isn’t a particularly modest one, it seems.

Back to me, since it’s all about me.

Really, my schedule is crazy. This is my own fault and I know it, but it is what it is. I’m still listening to A New Earth, which takes a long time when you do it in 5-minute increments. Next, I will tackle The Power of Now again (wouldn’t that be funny if Eckhart’s next book is, “The Power of Now and Again.” Like, “now and again, I feel like smacking someone.”

But seriously, I’m really enjoying A New Earth. Between FlyLady, Eckhart Tolle and Anthony Robbins, I should be ship-shape in no time!

My brother and niece are flying in from Tahiti in the morning. We are all very excited. In fact, they are on the plane right now.

So, here’s the schedule for just tomorrow:

My oldest will go to summer camp in the morning, but my sister in law will drive her since she works right next to the camp. Whew. I’ll get my 1-year-old and 3-year-old ready and then the babysitter will come. I don’t actually need her tomorrow since my brother will be her, but she relies on the paycheck and so that’s a bit of a conundrum. Anyway, I need to be in international baggage claim at 9:15 and so me and whoever wants to go with me (kids and babysitter or one kid or whatever) will go and pick up the famdamily. Then we will RUSH back to hop in the pool at 10:15 for baby swim class, which lasts 45 minutes. Then we will FLY out of the pool, into the car, and be in the camp carpool line by 11:30 a.m. to get my oldest. Then we are golden and can let my poor, jetlagged brother and niece relax.

I’ll check email here and there, but really won’t work much until tomorrow night.

Yesterday and today were equally crazy. I won’t even bother with most of yesterday, but of course, last night I was up working on a manuscript for Health Affairs (I say that as if they’ve accepted it, but they haven’t, although here is one just published…with a little help from a ghostwriter – me!). Then I had to take a break and work on the Wednesday morning news for FiercePharma (Hi guys!).

Then I got back to the Health Affairs manuscript. I decided I would finish referencing it and spruce up the graphs before I went to bed or I’d die trying. I think I died trying. I was so tired, I just crashed. Plus, I had to get up and finish the news this morning, bright and early. Then I had to get my little ones ready, shower myself (or P.U.), semi-dry my hair and then hit the L.A. 9:00 a.m. traffic hell to get to a meeting at Carat in Santa Monica. Oh, and I had to take the dog down the stairs to pee.

By the way, plug for a great new company and product I’ve been working with: Simplicity. This company is small, but the people are really great, really ethical and really excited about – okay, I’m just gonna say it – laundry and dish soap. But really, they have the only products that are non-toxic out there. Other products have no “known” toxins, but that’s just because our government always sides with business and businesses just have to pretend they don’t “know” and then they put a bunch of toxic crap into your cleaning supplies.

And if you want to know what they put in, good luck! They won’t tell you. Nope. It’s all a big mystery. That’s what I like about Simplicity. They’re telling people what is in their products. They’re all about transparency and honesty. I trust them.

The only WEE drawback is they have an exclusive with Wal-Mart now. There are some funny and interesting things I could go into here, but we’ll have to see which way the wind takes us first.

Oh Lord, where was I? Oh, so I was late to get my oldest at summer camp, but luckily, it is on the same campus where the brain surgeon and his sister work, so my sister-in-law picked up my oldest during her lunch hour. Then I picked her up at 1:30 and then headed home, grabbed the younger two and let the dog pee again, and then ran all three to the park where the older two have a different camp program. Luckily, the dual camp insanity is only three weeks long. In between all this, I’m doing hand edits on three papers I’ve got going and handling calls on my speaker phone (new hands free law!) on mute and hope and pray I can make salient comments on my conference calls without everyone hearing, “Mooooooooooooom! He hit me!!!”

I bring the baby home and get her settled and get a few more hours of work done before heading back to the park. Dog pees first, of course. And then, you know the drill…three little dinners, three little baths, about a million stories and then bedtime.

Anyway, I’m not even caught up on work yet, but I just needed to empty my brain before doing any more and this is the result.

Toodles!