The Sweet Savor of Success Failure

Dear K2 - this post is for you. Sure, I'm guessing there could be something in here that would be beneficial for K1, but I know you need this one most of all. I've been thinking about this for a long time - thinking about how I could teach you a lesson that I haven't yet learned myself. Try - as most parents do - to help you avoid the heartache and trauma I've caused myself over the years. While it's true I haven't figured it all out, I think there is a lot of learning and catharsis that can come from talking about it (or writing, as it were).

Failure. To me the dirtiest F word on the planet. But only for my own self, mind you. I'm incredibly supportive of other people's failures and say all the right and necessary things: "keep at it" "you've come so far" "learn from this and move forward" "some of the most successful people failed first", etc. etc. But I don't allow that type of kindness for myself, because somehow along the way I decided I wasn't worthy of it.

I'm a dyed-in-the-wool, true blue through and through, TYPE A/RED personality. That's in all caps for a reason. One time in college we were separated into personality types and asked to work out a problem, and I quickly became the leader of the Type A group. In other words, in a sea of Type A's, I insist on being the most Type A. I've always owned it - I even confess that some of the 'negative' traits associated with these personalities I view as badges of honor. I love that I'm uptight, hyper-critical of myself, never satisfied and exhaustively bossy and demanding. And if I am being completely honest, I kind of secretly love it when I see it in you too. First off, I get it. And second, I know that it means a lifetime of achievement, wonderful successes and exposing yourself to a great deal of opportunities.

But on the flip side it also means a crushing fear of that F word I mentioned before, and soul-sucking discouragement every time something doesn't turn out exactly as you think it should in your mind.

The problem with this mindset is that I fail more often that not. I lose more than I win, I am weaker far more times than I am strong, I often fall short of those ideals I set for myself on a daily basis. At my age and on a level of logic, I realize this is true of most people. We all have daily goals and aspirations and its rare to meet them all, even half the time. And it's not that I don't expect to fail. It's just that I consider anything less than absolute perfection to be soul-sucking, discouraging failure.

And maybe all of this would be ok, if I wasn't that dang Type A. Which means if I'm not achieving, I'm not living. And so I consistently put myself in the position of being out of my element, with ridiculously high expectations, and the ability to see everyone else's successes and milestones while never noticing a one of mine. And there you are - my wonderful, talented, special and divine 9 year old shadow. Setting yourself up with insane expectations and experiencing soul-sucking, tantrum throwing discouragement when it doesn't go exactly as planned.

What can we do about this K2? How do we help each other? How do we balance a healthy drive to achieve and succeed with the self forgiveness and lesson learning that can come from experiencing defeat? Perhaps it starts like any other weakness we must overcome - with recognizing and admitting there is a problem. Maybe we can find a way to let in those encouraging voices all around us, those ones that tell us that we really ARE making achievements. Possibly we can even redefine what it means to be successful, and understand that success rarely - if ever - means perfection. What I hope, most of all, is that we can help each other feel worthy of kindness.

You and your brother are the angels in my life. You make me recognize my Heavenly Father every day, and having you I have learned what it means to put no parameters or expectations on love. You can't fail me. That must be God's way of teaching me a valuable lesson. If I love you this much, how much more must He love me. And you. And if we're loved that much by the Divine, don't you think we're worthy of it? I know you are. And you know what? I know I am too.

I love you so much. Never stop striving for new adventures, new opportunities, new successes and yes - even new failures. Let's learn together that in the sweet savor of failure we find our choicest blessings.

Remembering

This weekend marks the 10th anniversary of 9/11, and I thought it would be worthwhile to record some of my memories and thoughts of that wrenching day. This blog is for my children, and I believe its important that they hear firsthand accounts as often as possible, so as to never forget. And I don't want more time to pass before I start to forget as well.

B and I were living just outside of Washington, DC at the time, in the suburb of Alexandria, VA. I normally worked from home - telecommuted with my office that was in San Francisco - and B worked overnights and would sleep during the day. September 11th was a Tuesday, and the weekend before B and I had been in NYC to take in a Yankees game and see the sights. In fact, we even stopped on Liberty island to take pictures with the twin towers in the background. We made it a long weekend and just returned on that Monday back home. The morning of 9/11 was different than usual, as I was heading into DC to meet up with the CEO of my company (Jane) and go together to do a media training for Amnesty International. I got on the train early in the morning and was cut off from all news until I arrived into DC. As I walked into the hotel lobby I saw a bunch of guests crowded around the tv in the hotel bar. Jane hadn't come down yet to meet me, so I walked over to see what they all were watching. I thought it was way too early to be a sporting event, and I couldn't think of any big news events that were taking place that morning.

About that time Jane came downstairs to tell me that a plane had hit one of the World Trade Center towers. She seemed concerned that it could be terrorist related, and a bit distracted by it all. We went up to her room where the Today show was on and started to watch. Just a couple of seconds later we all saw the second plane hit the tower and suddenly we knew that this was no accident and something serious was happening. I don't know how much time passed - it wasn't long but news was coming at such a rapid fire rate it was hard to take it all in. President Bush made a statement confirming that it was indeed a terrorist attack and all of the news outlets were reporting that planes were being forced to land all over the country. They couldn't account for all the planes in the air - some weren't responding to the orders to come down immediately. No one knew how many hijackers there might be, or where they were headed. Somehow we figured out that two planes were still missing, and both were believed to be headed for DC. Jane's hotel was directly across the street from the capital building and we sat there as the news kept flooding in that planes were bound for the capital or the white house. Then we heard a huge blast and the news was reporting a bomb went off at the state center (just a short distance from where we were). Below us we could see all of DC fleeing on foot - they were evacuating all government offices but no one could drive. It was a mass exodus but we were stuck in the hotel not allowed to leave. We had intermittent cell reception but my dad was able to get through and confirm that I was ok and then B called and was insistent that he wanted to come in to the city and get me. This really upset me because they weren't allowing anyone in or out of DC by any mode of transportation and I was terrified that he would get lost from me and we'd never meet up. Once I started to get upset Jane started to lose it, so I quickly sucked it up. She was far away from her family in the Bay area with no idea of when or how she might make it back. We heard about the plane that hit the pentagon (I assume now it was the loud explosion we had heard earlier) and knew that one plane was still out there, headed for DC and most likely the capital building.

In writing this it seems there must have been a long time between all these events, but most of them were near simultaneous - bumping up against each other and shifting our focus from one devastating concern to the next. I don't remember how long we worried about plane #4, but we eventually learned it had gone down in a field in Pennsylvania. In subsequent weeks and years we would come to know a lot about what happened on that United flight #93, but at the time we just recognized that they didn't succeed in getting to DC. In reality there were many great men and women on that flight who made sure that no one else was hurt. I could pause here and marvel at technology and the speed at which information is passed. Granted, much of it was mistaken and fed upon itself in a frenzy of panic, but so much of it was accurate and helpful. If not for the benefit of cell phones and plane phones those people on flight 93 would have had no idea or opportunity to do anything extraordinary. I am grateful that they did. And I am grateful (as I am sure their families are) that they had the opportunity to say some goodbyes.

Much of the rest of the day is a blur to me - we sat transfixed in front of the television listening to report after report. At some point we saw both towers crumble to the ground - pretty much as terrifying as watching the planes fly into them. DC was a ghost town - if you've ever been to that part of the city you know how erie that experience would be. Much like any big city it bustles with activity, but DC has its own energy - its full of purpose and grand illusions and power. It never settles down, is never quiet. It was difficult to see it like that. The trains started running again in the afternoon, and I think I left to go home around 3. The metro didn't stop at the two pentagon stops, but you could see the devastation as we went by and the smoking, gaping hole it left. I remember weeks/months after 9/11 Charlie Sheen made some kind of comment that there never was a plane that hit the Pentagon - that it was all some crazy conspiracy. In later years he would undoubtedly prove his lunacy to the entire world but I pretty much lost any respect I might have had for him after that comment. I saw it with my own eyes, and there was no doubting it. If you've never been to DC you may not realize that a major highway cuts right next to the Pentagon. I thought a lot about those drivers on that highway who experienced the scream of jet engines just over their head and felt the blast and quake of the impact. I'm amazed there weren't more car accidents.

Like most everyone I knew, life seemed to stop for a while in the days after 9/11. Being in PR there wasn't much work to do - no one seemed to care about pitching stories that weren't related to 9/11. And I couldn't take myself away from the news. I don't remember doing a whole lot that week - just sitting in front of the TV transfixed by one gut wrenching story after another. I remember all of the people in downtown NYC looking for their loved ones, begging anyone to help them find them. And I remember the horrible horrible replay of the people who chose to jump out of the 100th story of a building rather than be consumed by the heat and smoke and flames. I remember the heartbreaking interviews with the CEO of Cantor Fitzgerald, who lost nearly all of his employees. He would have died too if not for his child starting kindergarten that day. In fact many people were late to work on 9/11 because it was the first day of kindergarten. I remember marveling at how the terrorists hadn't counted on kindergarten. I remember the bewilderment at how something like this could happen on American soil and why we ignored so many violent warnings in the past decade. I remember all of the heroic stories of first responders who gave so much to try and save as many as they could. I remember feeling united as a country, but united in our suffering and in our sorrow and in our shock. I remember B dragging me out of the house that Friday night because he said all that news watching wasn't good for me.

Now, 10 years later and with the benefit of hindsight, the best lesson I've learned is that the terrorists didn't win. Oh, they struck a mighty blow that scared and wounded us for a time. But what they really wanted to take away from us - where they really wanted to damage us - well they failed miserably. If they were hoping this act would send us terrified and running, they certainly were wrong about that. If they were hoping it would turn us against each other and against our leaders, they were wrong about that too. If they hoped it would crumble us to our knees and weaken the fibers of what we stood for and what we represented, well they were wrong about that too.

Our nation isn't perfect, and it certainly has struggled mightily in the decade that followed 9/11. But I don't fault the terrorists for that - some of that was our own hubris at work. What the terrorists did accomplish was to unify our sense of nationality and to remind us what this great nation stands for and how lucky we are to be a part of it. Most, if not all, of those directly responsible for 9/11 have been found and brought to justice - most of them are now dead.

In the 10 years since 9/11 B and I have gone on to have two beautiful children. We've bought a house, we've been educated, we've held jobs, we've traveled, we've bolstered our economy and we've continued to reach for the American dream. And the same can be said of most people we know. So no, the terrorists did not win then and they have not won since.

And so I will let my children know that THAT is the greatest lesson to be learned by 9/11, and the one we must never forget.

A Most Meaningful Moment

Today was Fast and Testimony meeting, and for all of you non-LDS people that means it was a chance for members of the congregation to stand up during the main service and bear their testimonies. It's not scripted, and there is no one telling you to go up - its simply an opportunity if you feel so compelled to share your personal thoughts on your faith.

My children love to do this. I'm not sure if they do it because they feel prompted by the Spirit or because they love the limelight (ahem, K2), but I indulge them for two reasons: 1) its something they can do completely on their own and 2) I know that those small, child-like expressions of belief help to solidify their faith and will serve as the building blocks for their future testimonies.

So today, after the service started and the kids realized it was Fast and Testimony, they were ecstatic. They both asked "can I bear my testimony?" and together race walked up to the podium. Their testimonies were typical stuff - I love my Heavenly Father and I know He loves me, I love my family, I know the church is true. When they were done they came back down the aisle beaming at their accomplishment.

Fast forward about 10-15 minutes and I glance over at K2 who had been munching on jelly beans and listening to her friend's mom Emily bear her testimony. She looked up at me and pointed to her stomach as if to say it hurt so I responded with the obvious "quit eating jelly beans". She shook her head and whispered to me that it wasn't that her tummy hurt, it was just that she had such a powerful feeling inside of her and it was making her cry. I asked her to describe the feeling and she said it felt like she should bear her testimony again.

I explained that we really didn't bear our testimonies twice in one meeting, but that she could always bear it again in her heart. And then I tried to explain that what she was experiencing was the Spirit, but she just seemed so bewildered by the powerful feeling inside her. We left the meeting and I took her to the foyer and explained that the Spirit testifies to us of truth, and that when we hear truth and recognize it, it often feels very powerful inside of us - so powerful that the tears are just forced right out of us. It was an odd sensation for her - wanting to cry when she wasn't hurt or scared or mad. So she just laid on my chest and sobbed it all out and I held her, recognizing the power in the moment and how incredibly lucky I was to be sharing it with her.

When she was done she wiped her eyes and asked if we could go back into the service. I took her by the hand and when we sat down she reached for scriptures and read them for the rest of the meeting.

It was, without a doubt, one of the most profoundly precious moments of my life. I am helpless to explain why I have been gifted these two amazing human beings, but sometimes I am in such awe when I study their perfect faces and imagine our forever family that a powerful feeling surges within the pit of my stomach and all my tears are forced right out. And the lesson I just tried to teach K2 comes back to me, full force.

8 is Enough (for now)

I could talk about how long its been since I last posted (disgraceful!) but I'd rather talk about my firstborn. It's been a big month for him ... he just turned 8, had a fun birthday party and - most importantly - decided to be baptized. Yesterday was the big day.

I now know why mothers rarely take part in the program at these events. Between asking everyone to participate, coordinating the logistics, getting K1 a suit and pictures done and sending out announcements and creating the program, setting up the room and preparing for the lunch afterward I was grateful I didn't have to speak as well. Luckily we had plenty of family to fill those roles.

I was so touched by everyone that came for his baptism - to support K1 in this big step and to support us. We have a very small family in LDS terms, but we are richly blessed with wonderful friendships. It was such a comfort to me to see a full room and know that people went out of their way to celebrate such an important day with us.

I was impressed by how focused K1 was. Typically he's the can't-sit-still, loves-to-be-silly, life-of-the-party type who we are constantly trying to get to settle down and focus. Today he seemed to do that all on his own.

Of course memory being what it is, I don't remember much of what was said. I do remember one part of B's blessing - he said K1 was the type to always find the joy in everything, and that talent would serve him well as he fellowshipped with others and when he serves a mission. I loved that, mostly because its one of my favorite things about K1. He just wants to be happy.

So now that my baby has made such a big, important first step in his own unique and personal relationship with his Heavenly Father I can't help but be both excited and nervous on his behalf. Excited because his future is so bright and I know it will be filled with so many amazing experiences and spiritually enlightening moments. And I'm nervous because his future is filled with twists and turns and sometimes bad things will happen, or sad things or scary things and he'll have to rely on his faith and sometimes that might be all he has to get him through. It's hard when you're reminded that you can't just take their hands and do everything for them.

So for today I will try my best not to stew about all those things that are out of my control, and instead just focus on the beauty and the joy of the moment. I'm proud of K1 and his important choice. I am honored to be his mother and that my own Heavenly Father entrusted me with such an important and joyous job. And I am reminded of my own baptismal covenants and the job I have to strive to live my life in such a way that will demonstrate to K1 how vital faith is to navigating our futures.

I love you handsome. All my heart.

Birthday Blessings

So the thing about you K2, is you sort of sneak up on people. For those who know you well, they'll think that's an odd thing to say. I mean, you're pretty forceful by nature. You're not quiet, you're not shy, you most certainly are not timid. You have a way of making your presence known every where you go. I marvel at how you insist that people notice you. You're not obnoxious or even annoying about it - you're just confident in your conviction that you are worth knowing.

But I'm not talking about any of that when I say you sneak up on people. I've had the privilege of watching you now, for 6 blessed years. And I see the way people are around you - how they clamor for your attention. I see how kids race to give you a hug or sit next to you, I see how their parents call out your name to say hi or how their faces light up when you call out their names. I see how strangers will get lost in conversation with you - sharing all kinds of information and finding little trinkets to give you or small compliments to pay. I see how they want to make you feel as good as you've made them feel. It's all very subtle. It's not that you walk around with a spotlight on you. You're an adorable little girl, but there are lots of those in this world. There's something else - some 'je ne sais quoi' that I can never fully pinpoint but that is as much a part of your being as your hair color or your foot size or your attitude or your spunk. You make people feel good.

You sparkle. You shine. When you direct your attention to those around you they shine as well, and I have yet to meet anyone - young or old, male or female - who is not drawn in by your inexplicable light. You make life brilliant.

And even though its your birthday, somehow I feel like its me that's been given the gift.

THESE WOMEN

If I had a wish for the world, it would be that everyone had a group of THESE WOMEN to hold on to.

THESE WOMEN are reflections of the best parts about me.

THESE WOMEN exhibit all that I am striving to be.

THESE WOMEN are relevant, smart, interesting, beyond beautiful and can't-catch-your-breath hilarious.

THESE WOMEN are kind, accepting and honest.

THESE WOMEN are spiritual giants among men.

THESE WOMEN have created success in family, in work, in friendships, in personal growth, in life.

THESE WOMEN have created a bond that won't ever fade.

THESE WOMEN have only improved over the last 16 years.

Maybe it's silly to keep blogging about these trips and saying practically the same thing, but where would my life be without THESE WOMEN?

Ack!

I have GOT to blog about our most recent vacation or I am never going to. I've been terrible all summer - we did some amazing things (Royal Gorge, Steamboat, California, Grand Lake, New Mexico) and I didn't blog about a single one. So when my poor children look back on their lives all they will see is ... nothing. I'm terrible.

I did have some great pics on my phone that I was planning on supplementing with the pics on my computer, but alas I dropped my phone in water and had to replace it (second time this year. Yes, I am that person). So, we will have to settle for what was left on my camera and my blog won't be nearly as interesting, colorful or well-rounded. And with that rousing introduction - here we go!

We were blessed with a 4-day school break shortly after the kids started, which was coupled with a weekend, and when our family sees something like that looming at us our family figures out where we can go! This year we decided to head back to Florida for some Disney-flavored R&R. The last time we went to Florida the kids were 2 and 1 respectively, and while we had an awesome time with them, we decided now would be a good time to head back so they could actually have some memories.

Our first day was spent getting to our hotel (Grand Floridian, I highly recommend) and checking out Downtown Disney where we picked up the obligatory Christmas ornament (we get one for all of our trips) and K2 got lost for 3 minutes and she panicked and I panicked and all was well.

Day two we headed to Universal Studios, to check out Harry Potter World. I get this anxiousness inside of me when I am trying to fight a crowd, and let me tell you people - I am good at it. We're fast walkers and we're not timid people, so while still trying to maintain relative decorum we kicked some serious A trying to get to the back of the park before everyone else that was standing in the entrance line made the exact same beeline.

Fortunately it wasn't too crowded - the longest we waited was for the first thing we did - seeing the wand "show" at Olivanders. I put show in quotations because demonstration is probably a better word. It takes less than 5 minutes. Except for the group that went in right before us which took about 30 minutes. Murhpy's Law.

Right after the show they shuttle you into the very cramped store where you can purchase a wand of your own. And by cramped, I mean my walk-in closet that never fits all my clothes feels roomier than this. But the kids were over the moon to get to choose a wand (ahem, the WAND chose THEM) and begin casting their spells.

(Side note: mommy struggle. For months leading up to going to HPW, my kids were insistent on getting a wand and a broom because they were absolutely positively sure they could do magic and fly. I vacillated between wanting them to have this bit of fantasy, and not wanting to see it come crashing down as soon as they discovered the truth. I tried to tell them gently that wands do not do magic - well gently at first until they made fun of me for being dumb and then I got a little more heated in my assertions. In the end they proved me wrong as K2 mastered the "smile" charm where she could make any one smile she pointed her wand at, and K1 mastered the "winguardiam leviosa" charm where employees' items just kept flying up out of their hands. I did draw a line at buying a broom however, as I was not going to figure out a way to make those things fly.)

So after Olivanders and a ride on the Hippogriff roller coaster (K1 and Bryan went on the Forbidden Journey ride but much to K2's dismay she was not tall enough and much to my dismay its a simulated ride which means I get nauseous faster - and neither of the kids were tall enough for the Dragon coaster) we headed over to the Three Broomsticks for a little Butter Beer and Pumpkin Juice. The former tastes like a butterscotch cream soda and the latter like a heavily spiced cider. The kids and I liked both, B wasn't such a fan of the Butter Beer. I recommend getting both in the slushy format rather than straight up. And HPW wouldn't have been complete without stopping in the candy shoppe, where we picked up some chocolate frogs and (we marveled at this later) did not buy Bertie Botts Every Flavored Bean.

So after leaving HPW we headed to the second most exciting place in the park (at least in my humble opinion) Dr. Seuss land. If you know me at all you know I am a HUGE Dr. S. fan and my family is as well. We had fun riding the trolley train through Seuss world with a narration that covers A to Z, and riding the Caro-Seuss-sel where all of the creatures are whimsical and even riding The Cat in the Hat ride (which has always been my least favorite Seuss story and even as a small child, created some measure of stress in me when I read it. Perhaps it was the mess?). We didn't eat at Green Eggs and Ham unfortunately because we had eaten at the Three Broomsticks, but I am confident we would have liked them in the park, in the dark, on the train or in the rain.





The rest of the day was spent seeing the other sites at the park, which were fun and enjoyable as all great amusement parks are, but weren't quite as magical as the first two lands. I only had to deal with two work "emergencies" (side note: what constitutes an "emergency" in my book versus my clients' books are two vastly different things). All in all a great day and we hadn't even begun our Disney adventure.

Honored

So while I was on vacation (more on that to come!) the Young Women in my ward had an activity where they etched plates that represented women of each of the YW values (Woman of Faith, Woman of Good Works, Woman of Integrity, etc). After etching the plates they next chose a woman from our ward that represented each of those values to them. At the following week's activity, they each made a treat to fill the plates, and delivered them to each of the women.

I was so touched that they chose me as one of the women - the one for Virtue. They said that I was a good example to them because I can be modern and stylish, yet still retain my virtue.

I have the privilege of serving as Young Women's president to these dear, sweet girls who have taught me so much, and whom I have grown to love as though they were my own daughters. I feel a big responsibility to live up to the image they have of me and the ways in which they respect and admire me. I do not take it lightly.

For now though, I will enjoy my award. As a good friend who was given the title of Woman of Integrity said - it doesn't say anything about being humble! ;)

(Internal) Mommy Wars

The nature of my work life is such that it can take over sometimes. It's a trade off - there's a lot of flexibility (generally speaking) and I don't have to ask permission to take a day off or go to an appointment. I get to work from home, which means I haven't ever had to leave K-squared. And that last point has been the biggest blessing of my life to date (save having the kids in the first place).

But then there are days like yesterday. Days where I make the grave mistake of actually making plans and thinking that I can have some sort of control. It was the day before the first day of school, and even though it was a Tuesday I thought I could get away with pounding out a few things in the morning and taking an easy afternoon to do things with the kids. I wanted to take them to get hair cuts, I wanted to take K2 for a mani/pedi, I wanted to let them choose items for their lunches at the grocery store, help them choose clothes for the week, play with them and snuggle with them and have B give them blessings before the start of the new year.

And then work blew up. In a big way. And I think it was about 6 pm when I finally crawled downstairs and sunk down on the couch and pouted to B that I didn't get to do anything I wanted with the day. And B suggested dinner, and using up the multitude of tokens we had saved up for the local fun center. And it was so hectic that even during dinner I had to drive home to send something to a client and drive back. By the time we got home, got the kids settled and in bed I was ready to cry. So I did.

The reason I cried wasn't because I was stressed, or because my day was never ending, or because at every angle I feel like I'm having to fight to keep clients, and that for some reason, I'm having very little success with one in particular. The reason I cried was that I felt like such a bad mom. All I had wanted to do was spend time with my kids and help prepare them for the school year ahead and cap off a most amazing summer with a blissful day of happiness.

B was very helpful, as he usually is in these situations. He reminded me of all the things I did for the kids all summer, all the experiences I helped them to have. Our summer was so jam packed, in fact, I never had the chance to blog about it. We had an amazing few months - we didn't waste it.

So I've been reminded yet again that I can't always be the Martha Stewart mom I have in my dreams. I can't devote all my time to my kids, and even if I could I wouldn't. The love I have for my babies is staggering, yet I am still my own kind of mom.

-- I do not show my kids love by (very often) spending every minute of the day with them.

-- I do not show my kids love by (very often) sitting on the floor and playing barbies or cars or go fish.

-- I do not show my kids love by (very often) indulging in the silliness, or the tears, or ever - even for a moment - babying them

-- I do not show my kids love by (very often) waking up early to make them a hot breakfast, or going on field trips, or planning the class parties or heading the PTA

-- But I DO show my kids love by fostering their independence, and encouraging them to discover, learn and grow on their own

-- I DO show my kids love by listening to their stories, valuing their opinions, and treating them with respect

-- I DO show my kids love by exposing them to adventure, opportunity and new experiences every chance I get

-- I DO show my kids love by complimenting them, encouraging their strengths and talking them through their weaknesses; by expecting the best of them and giving them my best in return

-- I DO show my kids love by making sure they always look well cared for, snuggling them incessantly, and constantly reminding them how lucky I am to be blessed with their presence

So what I've learned this week is that I may not be that Martha Stewart mom I idealize - the one who wears an apron and greets the kids after school with fresh baked cookies and spends the day splashing at the pool and sits down to create every manner of craft with them at the kitchen table. My mind is often distracted and I'm pulled in a million directions and I'm stressed and sometimes even frazzled. But wow I love my kids. I love them so much I cry when I can't be with them. And when you look at these personalities... is it any wonder?

Without You

Without you I never would have known that you may need to wash an article of clothing 27 times to get the stain out.

Without you I never would have experienced laughter through sheer exasperation and frustration.


Without you I never would have known that my blood pressure can go that high.

Without you I wouldn't know how to work the 25 remotes we have.

Without you I wouldn't know that you can swallow a nickel and have it come out the other end in a very short amount of time.

Without you I wouldn't know that I could engage in a very passionate argument with a three year old (or a four, five or six year old).

Without you I wouldn't know that dream catchers really work, if you just believe.

Without you I wouldn't know that drinking peroxide - if caught early enough - could be managed without much concern.

Without you I wouldn't know that a six year old needs a cup to play baseball.

Without you I wouldn't know what half the cars on the road are.

Without you I would have forgotten the rules to Candyland, the joy of running through a sprinkler and how much wonder there is in a bug, a leaf or a dump truck.


Without you I wouldn't know how stinking cool boys are.

In short, without you I wouldn't be me.

Happy 7th Buggers.

Diary of an Amazing Kid

So K2 keeps a diary - a little iCarly number that comes complete with lock and key. Because she's five she lets me read it and I take her up on her offer because a) I love the insight into her adorable little mind and b) well if you knew me for more than half a second you know I never miss the chance to be nosy.

So anyhow, I had to share in case (heaven forbid) something ever happen to this diary. Some of these entries need to be immortalized.

Here are a few that warm my heart (all spelling and punctuation are exact - if its confusing, I've added some parenthetical clarity):

"I like to listin to my parents that is the best thige (thing) that cold hapen."

"I like to be agresiv in coccer. I like coccer the most."

"I have a Diary of a Whipy Kid that is alrieis (hilarious) it is so funny that it ckracks me up. I am so funny that I ckerack myself up."

"I like who I am. My name is prittie I like my name so so much that it is the pritieist thig in the wholl wide world."

And one that make me just a little (tiny bit) unnerved:

"I have a crush on Cooper. I do not want eneybodey to tell. Cooper has a crush on me that makes me inberist (embarrassed). Things ubout me are preetie funny beacas im a litlle gril and litelle grils no (know) much beacas they can do thigs and they can writ better then boys. I think Cooper is cute beacas he is asam (awesome) and Braden beacas they are so so cute that I want to kiss them but I am a litell inberist so ole (I'll) wate util I am 25 years old so that I and Cooper or Braden can live Happely after ever."

The Dangle Theory

For the last couple of weeks, I've been experiencing little pangs of sadness from time to time. Nothing serious - just momentary pauses where I am overcome by a sense of loss, of reflection. It's an excruciatingly busy time right now, so for the most part these pangs come and go with out a whole lot of dissection. It is true that when you have a family you have very little time for self-examination (though its probably also true that we could all benefit from a little more reflection. But I digress).

So these pangs, I think, come from a couple of different sources. The first is that right about this time I would have been giving birth to baby #3. It wasn't meant to be, and I'm pretty ok with that, but several friends have given birth recently or are about to and I can't help but recall that - had things gone differently - I would be as well.

The second pangs come from the ever-unforgiving passage of time. I try not to revel in nostalgia - let's face it, there is little you can do about time moving forward. And I'm a forward thinking person, not a reflector on the past. But nothing throws time in your face quite like watching your children grow up at breakneck speed in front of your eyes. Another school year is coming to a close, and I have no more kids in kindergarten! When did this happen? And both my kids had off-the-charts growth spurts this year. They are hardly recognizable from where they were just 12 months ago.

So the other day I took the kids out for a while so B could sleep off a cold. The recent spate of wet weather meant sports were canceled (again) so we found ourselves running random places to window shop and explore. At one point I had to take K2 to the bathroom, and as she sat there I saw her little feet dangling. And I realized that most everywhere my kids sit their feet still dangle. They want to be big - they say big things and we have big conversations and - more often than not - they stump me with wise thoughts and penetrating questions. But try as they might, their bodies just don't yet fill up any seat. And as long as they're still dangling I've got time. Time to baby them, time to grab them up in my lap for a snuggle, time to teach them while they still think I know everything. I can still grasp their ever-growing hands in mind and lead them across a busy street, or home through the park and (most times) they don't pull away.

One day their bodies will catch up to their too-grown-up-for-their-own-good-brains and they will fill in those seats and they'll be trying to maneuver gangly legs and arms in small places. But for now, they dangle.

And I take a deep breath, and the pangs subside.

My Passion

So I started my career in journalism (broadcast to be exact) and one of the number one things I love about being a journalist is that it forces you to learn a little about a huge variety of topics. It's not that I could necessarily call myself an expert in any one thing, but I sure do have a lot of beginner's knowledge in a wide array of subjects. And having to turn around and create copy or write stories explaining those topics meant that I had to delve deeper on any given subject so that I could pull the most vital pieces of information and package them in such a way that general audiences could understand - usually in less than 2 minutes.

So then I made the transition to PR and the learning didn't stop. In fact, it just got deeper. You see, a PR person's job is to educate a journalist. I can't count the number of times I've been on the phone with an editor who decided to start grilling me about the subject or industry I was pitching. It means you have to be on your toes, and you have to know a lot more than just the narrow topic you're trying to sell. Otherwise, you lose your audience. And that means you lose the story.

It's hard to quantify the number of subjects I know far more about than I ever thought I would have wanted. Things like electronics manufacturing, memory modules, storage and server industry standards, medical device technology, cutting-edge cancer treatments, different kinds of stitching and washing on high-end fabrics, which countries offer the best tax breaks and import/export opportunities, search engine optimization, global health epidemics and - as of today - small form factors in embedded computing.

Some might read that last paragraph with a yawn and a heavy sigh. And even though those words can sometimes make me go cross-eyed as I search for a way to disseminate the information into palatable marketing and press materials, I still find myself invigorated. Knowledge is power. Not power over other people necessarily, but power over circumstance. Knowledge takes you places. It's impossible to learn something new and not be moved.

I am grateful that there are experts in this world, and that those experts are patient with me as I try and pick their brains and utilize all of that knowledge for the areas where I've got some expertise - publicity. How fascinating this world is when we open ourselves up to any respectable information that comes our way. Even if it is small form factors in embedded computing. I am a better person because I can now (falteringly, yes) speak about them. And knowledge builds upon itself. So many times I study one subject only to find it helps me in a completely unrelated area down the road. Amazing!

So K-squared - if you want to know what drives your mom, if you want to find a little piece of that exhilaration I enjoy, go read a book about something you've never heard of, go try an activity that scares you. Go test your outer limits and acquire some new piece of knowledge you thought beyond your capacity. Then, share it with someone else.

After all, its the only thing we'll take with us when we go.

"I do not think much of a man who is not wiser today than he was yesterday." - Abe Lincoln

My Favorite Role

Been thinking about motherhood today, for obvious reasons. It's a complicated thing, being a mom. On the one hand its the abstract - perfect trips to Disneyland and teaching gospel principles while picnicking at the park and raising well-adjusted kids who go on to accomplish everything you dream for them.

On the other hands, its the concrete - blowing noses and tying shoes and packing lunches and doing homework and overseeing endless scheduling conflicts and cleaning up the same mess for the fifth time that day.

In reality, motherhood is somewhere in the nebulous, in the in-between. Too much focus on the abstract and you never see what is actually real, and too much reality can make you lose sight of those lofty ambitions. It seems to me that success is understanding that the dream, the power, the hope of motherhood lies in all the day-to-day minutiae.

I've only been a parent for six years - that hardly makes me an expert. And the kids are young enough that I haven't had a whole lot of time to take a breath and focus on the bigger picture. But on those rare days - days like today - when my earthly self gets a little closer to the spiritual self and my mind is opened to what I'm really doing, I recognize that it's all those little moments that add up to the big picture. The drudgery, the frustration, the repetitiveness, the often never-ending and rarely thankful job is absolutely everything that matters to me.

You see every time I remind my kids to sneeze into the crook of their arm, every time I insist they drink water or milk over soda and juice, every time I remind them to say a prayer before they eat, I am showing them I love them. Every time I grab them in a snuggle, every time I make them clean up their room, every time I read them a story and every time I insist they try their best I am showing them that - above anything else - I value my role as their mother and I consider it the most sacred thing I could ever do.

While the kids will certainly remember some of the 'big' moments in life, and those moments will have their own unique impact, I'd like to argue that its all those little moments when added up together that will really shape them into who they are. Every time I remind my kids of something I've already said 100 times, I impress upon them what is most important and who I want them to become. And every time I volunteer in their classroom or make their favorite dinner or remind them to buckle up they are once again comforted by the knowledge that there are absolutes in life and that, no matter what, I have their best interest at heart.

I am immensely proud of my children - in a way only another parent can understand. But I am also immensely proud of how their presence in this world means I get to take on the role of mother. I want them to know, I do not take it lightly. Even on my bad days, they are the two most perfect beings that have ever existed. And mothering them - even on their bad days - is my own little slice of heaven.

Trademarks, Shouldbe's (and catfish too)

Aw hell to catfish (that's for you T!) its been a looong time since I blogged. And for some reason the longer it goes, the more insurmountable it becomes. Every time I sit in front of the computer I'm plagued by the shouldbe's. I should be working on a myriad of work things. I should be responding to emails both professional and personal. I should be blogging for posterity. Those shouldbe's can really weigh you down.

But what I've really been thinking about lately is trademarks. In the world of marketing/branding/PR its vital that you put your stamp on everything you create so no one else can stake their claim to it. So why shouldn't we do that in our personal life? Because there are some things that are indelibly ours. So here are a few things I'm most proud of (or at the very least, are really never going to change):

* In our house, we are not wallflowers. This means there is a lot of, ahem, passionate viewpoints thrown around. Yes we can get heated, yes we can raise voices, but yes we all have thick skins. It is true that we could all benefit from a good chill pill once in a while, but I don't think I would trade our passion and vigor for all the calm and peace in the world. We have opinions, we share them, we thrive off of them. We are not a go-with-the-flow kind of family. Trademark.

* If there were two words that you could use to describe K2's attitude most of the time, it would be righteous indignation. You see, no one is more confident in how right they are then K2, and no one is less afraid to stand her ground. And when you have that kind of confidence, you can't help but be a little short on humility. And yet she combines it with such personality, sweetness and magnetism that you forgive her (ummm, how do I say it?) sheer arrogance. Even when she - at 5 years old - is arguing with you on the right way to spell a word. You know you're right (of course you are) but you will never convince her otherwise. Now that's confidence. Trademark.

* K1 can be a little sensitive sometimes, which probably wouldn't be so noticeable in another family but stands out a bit in our house. But the thing about K1 is, no one gets over something faster than he does. He may be super upset - angry or hurt or frustrated - and a simple hug, a funny joke, a sly little smile in his direction and he's over it. He just can't hang on to sadness, no matter how hard he tries. The kid just lives to be happy, and it's a good thing because he has the best smile in the universe. He may make you a little insane with his incessant energy and penchant for silliness, but its impossible to be down when you hang around K1. Trademark.

* In our family, we're not so much with the sticking around the house. We're adventure-seeking, new-experience-needing kind of people. It often translates to last-minute plans, long drives and random, out-of-the-way places. We have our schedule and structure same as the next guy, but any time we get a brief break in the have-to's we go find some want-to's. It's not that we're crazy thrill seeking dare devils (though there's a small bit of that in each of us), but its more that we realize there is a great big world of possibility around us and whatever it is, its got to be more interesting than sticking around the neighborhood. This fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants approach has made for kids who travel really well, but its always been a little hard to find friends who can be as last-minute as we are (and who have the same sense of randomness). But if you're looking for an anything-goes weekend with no limitations or expectations, give us a call. We're there. Trademark.

It would be great to file a patent or register a trademark for everything we love that makes us unique. Even those things that are hard, that take effort to manage, shouldn't be changed. They are what make life worth living, they are how we leave our own indelible mark on the world around us. And its those distinct traits that get me through all the shouldbe's of my life. Trademark.

Ode to a Personal Hero

Every once in a great while
your brain is touched both high and low
by writers who expand your world
like Dickens or Shakespeare or Poe.

But today is a day
reserved for the best
Today we celebrate Theodor Geisel
(Dr. Seuss to all the rest).

From the time I was a wee child
I relished the genius of this man
from Marvin K. Mooney and Bartholomew Cubbins
to Sam-I-Am in Green Eggs and Ham.

There isn't a story that didn't excite me
subtle, moral and funny, they were always on pitch
I committed to memory the shrewd lessons he taught
I learned from Horton, the Sneetches, and the Grinch.

As I got older I studied his politics
his feelings on racism, the environment and war
and I grew to admire this man's mind
beyond his children's writings which I adored

I revered his use of anapestic tetrameter -
no one could rhyme quite like this man
(you can see that I am trying,
but it is mostly just a sham)

And then I met a man
who loved the Seuss as much as I
I pledged my devotion to him in rhyme
as I became his loving bride.

And Dr. Seuss has played a part
in our marriage, our lives and home
whether its quoting, or decorating, or playing a game
we've taken something from every tome.

So I keep Dr. Seuss' genius close by,
he seems to understands the places I'll go
as I teach my children his masterpieces
and watch another generation grow.

Happy Birthday Dr. Seuss!

Scariest. Moment. Ever.

So B and I just got back from our Valentine's trip to Vegas. It was fabulous. And true to form we forgot the camera so we have no pictorial documentation. BOO! Anyhow - I'll try and blog more about the trip later. Here's what I really want to talk about - the trip home.

We were set to come back late Sunday afternoon, and that morning we met my high school bff and her family for a huge brunch at the Wynn. Needless to say there were amazing eats and, needless to say, B overdid it. He doesn't have that button in his brain that most of us have that tells us we've had enough. If you've met B you know he doesn't really need that button (though I still maintain that if you check back with us in 20 years you'll find B stuck in a doorway because his metabolism caught up with him).

Anyhow, so when it was all said and done B realized he wasn't feeling all that well. It's not entirely uncommon for him to overeat and then not feel well - especially when presented with a lot of good food. We spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon walking around the strip and he thought that was helpful to get things moving through him, which in most cases is usually all it takes. But in truth he was a bit lethargic and his stomach never did feel normal.

By the time we got on the plane he was grateful for the chance to sit and hopefully sleep. As we started to taxi and were about to take off, he pulled out his barf bag and said he really didn't feel well. I told him to breathe through his nose and out his mouth, and got my barf bag ready too. A few seconds later the retching and heaving started, and unfortunately it wasn't the quiet, delicate kind (is there such a thing when you are violently ill? probably not). After the second go round I hit the call button and B remained hunched over himself in what I assumed was an attempt to stay hidden from view and to await the next go round. When the flight attendant came over, she started asking him if he was ok, and B didn't sit up or respond. I leaned in closer to him and asked if he could sit up - asked if he was ok and to please answer. When he didn't respond to me I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him up, only to see him completely gone - unresponsive and unconscious.

So then I started to panic a little. Or a lot. I just know I started to get hysterical and immediately everyone in the 10 rows ahead of us started yelling for a doctor. And then someone called for one over the loud speaker. And the two women sitting directly in front of me reached through the seats and grabbed my hands and told me it would be ok. From somewhere a man came up to us who was an EMT, and another man who was a dentist.

And then suddenly B took in a huge gulp of air. After that things slowed down a bit. He was able to talk, in between heavings, and he was making sense. He was void of color and still retching mightily, but he was awake. I was so terrified in that brief moment - thinking he aspirated his vomit or there was something far more wrong with him then just a stomach bug. It was such a relief to have him there again. They turned the plane around and brought it back to the gate and the paramedics came on board and took us off. After a quick examination they concluded that it was most likely some type of food poisoning and that we could either spend the night at a hospital or a hotel, but chances were good all he needed was a little peace and rest and a nearby bathroom.

So, B and I stayed one more night in Vegas at a hotel and I had an anxious night of sleep while I checked every so often that he was still breathing. And after the bout at the airport he really was much better and enjoyed a good 14 hours of sleep. We made it back home today. I am grateful my sister was willing to keep the kids and that the holiday made it easier on everyone to have us gone for extra time. I am grateful for the people on the plane who were kind, understanding, helpful and reassuring. But mostly I am grateful that B and I just have a crazy story to tell and nothing more.

It was a poignant reminder on Valentine's Day of what I love and why I love it so.

The Dark(er) Side

As much as I like to seem put together, in control and well - successful, truth is that I am horribly ruled by my hormones. Not in the cuckoo-crazy way, and not in the psychotic knife-wielding PMS way. No, my hormones are more subtle, more insidious and more cunning. (Of course, its entirely possible I'm using my hormones as an easy out - but if its not hormonal that I've got I.S.S.U.E.S.)

There's at least one week out of the month were I LOATHE my looks. I hate everything about them. I can't imagine why I haven't been banned from proper society. There's another week where I think I have no friends, nobody likes me and everyone has moved on with their lives and forgotten all about me. Then there's the week where my patience is razor thin and my mouth is razor sharp. Somewhere in all of this I have a random good day, where I am feeling pretty freakin' awesome. One good day. That's what I get.

Now, before I start getting recommendations on institutions, let me just say that I keep this all pretty hidden. On the outside I seem pretty ok, and I AM pretty ok. These are deep, dark thoughts that - for the most part - logic easily quells. I know I'm no uglier one day to the next. I know that my friends are my friends, regardless of what day of the month it is. And I even know that my irrational reactions to irritating things around me aren't typical of how I generally am.

Despite all of these perception problems, I truly am a happy, optimistic person. I generally think the best about other people, can easily find beauty in everyone around me and am always up for something fun or adventurous. Both B and I believe that things have a way of working out the way that they should, and I know that more often than not people really are just trying their best. So why is that I give others so much compassion, understanding and leeway and give myself absolutely none?

It's an interesting question, one I don't have the answer to but one I expect plagues others too. I don't mean to be sexist, but I don't think its an issue men have so much - not like women. I see such a difference in the way K1 and K2 are. K1 lets so much roll of his back - a simple shrug, a laugh and its gone. But not K2. She is so particular - so determined. Everyone HAS to like her. Her work HAS to be the best. She HAS to be right. Is she just like me? Or is she just female? We can't blame it on her hormones just yet, but maybe she's headed down the same road of obsessiveness that I'm on.

I hear women of a "certain age" (and by that I mean older than me) talk about how enlightening it was to get to that "certain age" and finally figure out they don't CARE what other people think and they're not in the business of pleasing others. I really don't consider myself a people pleaser, but I would like to get to the point where I am in love with myself and damn the rest of the world. I want to get there sooner rather than later so I can pass that on to K2, but if history is any indication K2 may just have to get their on her own. It seems to be a place that can only be traversed alone. Until then, I'll keep blaming hormones and avoiding my I.S.S.U.E.S. Seems the most happy, optimistic place to be.

Pet Peeve: Taking Offense

I have a lot of pet peeves - as I'm sure we all do. So many in fact, I may devote more than just one post to this topic. (So get excited, something to look forward to!)

Today's post however, is the pet peeve of people taking offense. I JUST DON'T GET IT. I guess I'm not someone who's offended easily, or maybe more to the point, I can recognize when offense is actually meant and when it is not. B might disagree with me here, but to him I will say sometimes I just like to pick a fight or pretend to be bothered by something just to watch him squirm. It's true.

But back to the pet peeve. This post is not the result of a specific event, its just the accumulation of times when I see someone taking offense at what is truly inoffensive. People do it when they feel someone has derided their culture, or their heritage, or their religion or their way of life. They do it when someone says something remotely constructive but that is construed as hypercritical. They jump to defense to protect their children or their choices or their actions. They even take offense by what people don't say or don't do. In short, it often seems that people are just looking for ways to be offended.

I don't get this - wouldn't you rather assume the best of people? Wouldn't you rather believe that they just weren't thinking, or that they meant nothing specific by their comment, or that they were honestly just trying to help? Wouldn't the world just be a happier place if we could practice a little benefit of the doubt?

I ask you - nine times out of ten, is anything ever gained by taking offense?

I rest my point.

A Love Story

This is not one of those fairytale love stories, the kind that start with your eyes meeting across the room and ends with happily ever after.

It's not one of those Hollywood love stories, the kind that start with you hating everything about each other and ends when you're thrown together and discover how much you love all the things you thought you hated.

This is not one of those fated love stories, the kind that starts with forces greater than yourself pulling you toward one another and ends with your submission to the powers-that-be as you are inexplicably brought together.

And its not a star-crossed love story, the kind that seems so perfect on the outside but that is destined for failure.

No, this is an unexpected love story. The kind that catches you off guard on a random Tuesday when you are looking for everything but love and slowly unveils reasons that not only should you be together, but that you bring out the best in each other when you both really try. It's the kind of love story that gets stronger and more sure - not in spite of, but because of, the challenges and struggles you endure.

It's the kind of love story that can't help but at times feels ill-fitting and tired, but just when you think you've reached the end of your capacity to forgive and to compromise and to grow, you find immeasurable reserves and remember what it is you are working so hard to achieve.

It's the kind of love story that gets better with age - not fairytale better, but real life better. Real in the way it challenges you, real in the way it satisfies you, real in the way it strengthens you and real in the way that you know its something you can be proud of.

It's the kind of love story that experiences both peaks and valleys, but mercifully the peaks are higher and last longer than any valley depth. It's the kind of love story that provides an enduring partnership, understanding, commitment and genuine concern for each other, as well as a mutual respect and desire to keep working until every possible stone is unturned and every detail has been done right.

This kind of love story is quiet and sure - it doesn't parade itself for others to envy, and no one else would appreciate its rare and unique beauty in quite the same way. It's comfortable and relaxed and honest and it's the safe place to fall when everything else seems off-kilter. It's the kind of love story that doesn't need a holiday or an anniversary to be noted and celebrated. And its exactly the kind of love story you were meant to have.