Nothing to Wear

Being a mommy gives new meaning to the age-old conundrum of having nothing to wear. Not only have we lost our girlie figures to multiple pregnancies, lack of formal exercise, and one too many goldfish crackers, but the clothes we do have are stained beyond repair with God knows what that rubs off of the kids' mouths, noses and sticky little fingers (and in rare tragic instances, from their leaky little tushies).

I remember reading an anecdote by a well-known correspondent who recorded a whole interview of a Hollywood Hunk-du-jour with baby spit-up on her shoulder, which was later embarassingly pointed out by her interviewee.

This morning, I nearly walked out the door to give Grand Rounds as a guest speaker in a black suit with a huge white chaulky patch of something plastered on the front thigh. I would have wondered the whole time I was speaking whether my fly was undone judging from all the staring at my pants.

Well, just another badge of honor that we mommies wear with pride and love.

Mother's Day Moments

My mother's day was full of interesting moments, some sweet, some special, and some just downright perplexing.

The first one came just as I was opening my eyes when Connor crawled into bed with a mischievous grin, ready to share a riddle of his own making, his very first:

"Mommy, what did the V-wing fighter say to the TIE Interceptor?" ... "Happy Toilet Day!!!"

Then I got his homemade Mother's Day card that he had worked on in school. It was a booklet along the lines of Madlibs where the kids had to fill in the blanks on each page:

Her name is: trisha
She is: 24 years old
When I am at school, she: goes to work
She is really good at: playing with me
Something special she does for me is: Help do my Homework
I love her because: She is Budafull

Happy Mother's Day!!! I love you: Connor

Ah, true love :)

Later that evening, the grandparents came over for dinner and, as usual, my father unloaded several packages from his car on arrival. The first was a huge box with an electronic drum set for Benji. The next was a sizeable toy helicopter for Connor, and a styrofoam chest of food. Then he hands me a small package the size of my hand, saying "Here, this is for you." My interest was piqued, feeling the small gift in my hand, thinking it might be something pretty nice since we all know that good things come in small packages. I look down to see that I'm holding a new kitchen sponge.

"Gee, thanks dad!"

7th Heaven

It's hard to believe it's over. Not that I was a very faithful viewer, but who could not feel a hint of melancholy with the closing of one of TV's longest-running family shows and the realization that nothing lasts forever, even in TV-land.

The end of a great TV series always hits me hard. I could not bring myself to say goodbye to my first love, Remington Steele <sigh>, which no Knight Rider or McGyver could ever replace. Then there was Northern Exposure, which I tried to immortalize on reams of tapes, before I realized that it's just not the same watching reruns, when you know there's a final episode in the mix. I still long for the days of Starfleet Academy and the Next Gen crew before they went to the big screen, Jean-Luc, Beverly, Deanna, Number One -- I never really warmed up to Voyager or those guys on the space station. Let's be honest, there's no better entertainment than watching a Klingon try to put on a poker face for his friends around the card table.

Most series finales, in my book, are duds. The last episodes of Seinfeld and Ally McBeal, for instance, left me with a deflated, humdrum feeling. Maybe subconsciously the actors had given up on their acting or the writers had given up on their writing by the last take. Or maybe out of goodwill, the writers intended to soften the blow to their loyal fans, making them feel less badly about losing their favorite show, by turning their fervor into indifference with horrible writing.

My vote for best series finale goes to Felicity. It was all you could hope for in a finale with a feel-good denouement to an ending that provided closure as much as it promised a happily-ever-after. Just look at Felicity now, doing us proud in MI3. And we remember when she was just an insecure college freshman, way back when.

Neighborhood Bully

Bobby and I have come upon a rude discovery about one of our neighbor's kids. He is bound to grow up to be a big bully. We first suspected this about a year ago, when he would have occasional run-ins with Connor who has got to be one of the biggest, sweetest chickens on the planet. At this point, Connor who loves calling on all sorts of kids in the neighborhood to play, specifically avoids seeking out the Kid (names have been radically altered to protect my kids) because "he's mean", although Connor happens to be great friends with the Kid's little brother.

We have witnessed the Kid taking Connor's toys and calling them his own, chasing and threatening little Benji with a baseball bat when he thought no adult was watching, and yesterday, the Kid and another monster grabbed Benji by all four of his little arms and legs in an attempt to throw him into their basement. The Kid is all of 7 years old. Luckily, Benji took it all in stride and was shrieking in laughter the whole time, while Connor stuck up for his little bro in protest.

That same evening, the Kid's mom shared with me how 'scary smart' he is. Scary, yes. Smart, I'm not so sure. But clearly he has a wicked streak in him, and an evil genius doesn't make a good combination in my book. We'll just have to keep our cubs closer to the den with that kind of kid around. It just so happens that Pearls is running a series of strips about scary neighbors, how a propos...

A Room of My Own

The thought actually crossed my mind today that I could be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Even Bob thought I looked a bit stressed over lunch. Objectively, I can honestly say that life is good all around -- great job, great hubby, parental supports, happy kids, and a decent nanny. Yet, I'm starting to feel overwhelmed by the thousand little crises that seem to have assaulted me over the past week. What should have been a no-brainer, having my willing nanny watch three older girls for an hour after school this week, has turned into a neighborhood drama to rival Desperate Housewives. Benjamin's terrible three's has only escalated with his recent illness, although he's mostly recovered. Our struggling little church fellowship group has been navigating the treacherous waters of hurt feelings, and I'm the midshipman. My nurses at work have been getting on my case for not wearing a permanent smile on my face. Plus I missed Secretary's Day!

A woman journalist recently wrote about her journey to a modern-day monastery for lay folk, a place to get away from it all. No phones, no TV, no talking, period. She found it extreme and not exactly life-changing for the weeklong experience. Yet the concept is intriguing. Just to have some time to yourself to decompress and hear yourself think without worrying about getting decent food on the table or getting the kids to bed.

After our lunch, Bob said we needed to plan for some quality time tonight vegging in front of the TV. It may not be anything like a cloister. But I think he's got the right idea.

An Easter Treat

Slowly, little by little, I am being lured away from my trusty ol' 35mm SLR by the sirens of digital imaging.

Through the eye of Old Reliable, I have captured views from the glacier peaks of Alaska to the misty valleys of the Yangtze river gorge. It has seen me through graduations, weddings, and births. It has survived tropical humidity, scorching heat, and Benjamin (although its cap never stayed on after that crash of '04). Most importantly it has taken every shot asked of it without hesitation, without delay. Even so, my parents' new nifty lil' digital waif of a camera has sneakily made its way into my diaper bag where my 5-pound Canon Eos has never been able to go. And there's the catch. For all its failings -- need for charging/downloading, graying skintones, shutter delay -- at least the little newby is there in the field to capture the magical moments.

Like this Easter egg hunt at our friends' house. Somehow, I caught this instant after Connor picked-out and unwrapped a miniature Krackle bar from his basket, when he tried to hear the crackle. It still makes me laugh just looking at the picture.

Not bad lil' Coolpix, not bad at all.

I May Need That Someday

Ah, blessed May! With the end of April goes the end of my month on service and a return to relative normalcy and my blog!

Our usual weekend frenzy was punctuated by a visit to the ER for Benjamin and Bob. Poor Benji had been fighting hay fever all week and was particularly fussy all day Saturday such that by the end of a dinner party that night, Bob was sufficiently concerned to whisk him to the ER for his wheezing. You know us, our kids have to be practically coding before we'll get them professional help.

Earlier that day, we tried breaking out Connor's old nebulizer machine to use on Benjamin. I was so proud that I knew exactly where it was packed away in the closet, along with the albuterol solution, for use should it ever be needed. Now, four years later, it was clearly needed. And it worked -- well sort of, for about an hour at a time before Benji would get fussy and wheezy all over again. Lucky for him, the ER had the good stuff and he responded readily. As it turned out, the ancient albuterol I had saved with the nebulizer was probably long-expired and degraded.

I just cannot get myself to throw anything away, since almost everything could be potentially useful at some point in the future. My rationale is that there's nothing I dislike more than being without something that I need. Whether it's ribbon, or a plastic spoon, or those paper towel cardboard rolls, I stash it away for safe keeping. I can't tell you how many random requests I have gotten from Connor's teachers for those cardboard rolls. Really!

Admittedly, it's hard to justify keeping 3-year-old expired jars of baby food from Connor's infancy for Benjamin's use. Although it pained me, I did throw them out after much consideration.

So perhaps there is a lesson to be learned from dear Benjamin's suffering. Somethings are just not worth keeping. But then again, I may need that...