A Redeeming Quality Of Facebook (no, really, there is one)

Have you ever had a teacher who you have never-ever-not-even-once forgotten?

Have you ever had a teacher who made you feel special and showered you with hugs? Did you love her so much that you baked her homemade granola and wrapped it up in a pretty jar covered with pieces of calico fabric? And did you sign it 'xoxo'?

Have you ever had a teacher who made your second grade classroom seem like the bestest, most wonderfullest place in the whole wild world*?

Have you ever had a teacher who you loved so much that you invited her to your house for lunch? Were you bursting with eight year old giddiness when she accepted your invitation? And did you spend hours preparing tuna fish sandwiches on white bread with a side of grapes for the big event?

Have you ever had a teacher who you admired so much that you wanted to be a teacher, too? Did you gather up your stuffed animals and turn your bedroom into a classroom, handing out gold stars to Pooh Bear and his friends when they got the answers right?

Have you ever had a teacher who made math seem like fun when, really, you totally sucked at word problems and standardized tests? Were you open to the idea of a math tutor a few years later as long as SHE would be the tutor?

Have you ever had a teacher who, through the power of Facebook, you reconnected with after 30 years? And did you feel all your eight year old giddiness come gushing back when she wrote something like, "Thanks so much for your very special note! You have just put the biggest smile on my face! You have always had a special place in my heart. Tell me all about yourself. It is WONDERFUL to be in touch! Smooches to you! Hugs!".

And did you proceed to spend the next hour emailing back and forth with her, and in each one, did she sign her emails with 'smooches' or 'big hugs' and did you think that she STILL sounded like a second grade teacher, and did that make you want to head right back to elementary school again just for that one year of second grade goodness***?

Have you ever had a teacher who you have never ever forgotten?

Have you told her or him?






*it was the 70s...granola was a pretty groovy gift
**again, it was the 70s, which meant there was no homework in 2nd grade and school was still fun and heavy on recess and snack and Mrs. Piggle Wiggle story times
***even though you're pretty sure that she says similar things to all her former students, but you don't care because her words still make you smile

Defining Ourselves

What defines you? Your job? Your relationships? Your beliefs?

I'm writing about it over at GNM Parents today. Hope you'll click over.

Crazy Thoughts From The Sick House

Twenty-nine (but who's counting?) hours of being stuck inside with a sick kid can make you do crazy things.

The isolation can make you read out loud the entire Lion, Witch and the Wardrobe novel to a boy too sick to read to himself. And THEN, after you've read page after page of this subliminal Bible story and you think you've done your maternal penance for sending a kid, who told you he was going to throw up, to school anyway, on top of that you have to explain what 'Son of Adam' and 'Daughter of Eve' mean to your child, whose only experience with religion is riding a church kneeler like a horse when he was 3 and whooping 'giddyup' as his neighbor received first communion.

But I digress.

Being isolated in a sick house can also make you oblivious to your own shower-deprived smell. But who cares? It's just you and your kids, and one of them still has a lingering odor of vomit. Standards are low.

And? AND, (this one is the reason for the blog post so pay attention here) the hours spent without another adult voice to lure you back into reality can make you believe that filling out an application to adopt a rescue dog (a girl!!) is a brilliant idea.

Brilliant, I say.

Poor little Darcy is 5 months old and was found wandering down a deserted road in the Deep South (which is reason enough to save the dear thing).



Did I mention the dog is a girl?!? A GIRL!

I wonder, does Gymboree have a spring puppy line with matching headbands and cute ruffly socks?

In truth, we've been talking about a dog for a while. My husband and I, we sort-of-but-not-really-joke, 'well, it's either a dog or a baby'. Only the third baby thing hasn't really panned out, so a dog seems like an obvious void filler, no?

After all, having a puppy in the house is a lot like having a baby. There are sleepless nights, house training, poop cleaning-up, teething and chew toys, grooming, crib crate training. So, when these things are examined the right way, one could logically conclude that a puppy is everything a baby would bring, minus the college fund and tax deduction.

Plus, and this is a big PLUS, having a puppy to train is a smart reason to delay getting a real job.

Win-Win.

So, it's all good. I think we're ready. And I'm pretty sure this quarantine hasn't made me completely delirious. Or has it?

Any last words to talk me out of this of advice before I hit 'send' on the application?




Too late. I already did.

When Your Kid Tells You He's Going To Puke...

When you are waiting at the bus stop with your Second Grader, and he tells you that he feels like he's going to throw up, you should listen.

Even though your first instinct, after feeling his fever-free head and reminding yourself that he devoured four syrup drenched pancakes just 30 minutes earlier, is to nudge him onto the waiting school bus, you should still listen.

Because chances are, later that morning when you are five minutes away from your hot yoga studio, your cell phone will ring. It will be the school nurse telling you that your Second Grader has just vomited. Twice.

You will turn your suburban station wagon around and drive 15 minutes in the other direction, cursing under your breath that you are the worst mother ever and that you are missing yoga. Both of these things will piss you off.

You will pick up your vomit covered child, apologize to the nurse and drive your Second Grader home, careful to avoid any sharp turns, bumps or stops. As you pray to the universe that there won't be any vomit in the car, you will wonder how a sick child can muster up the energy to chatter the entire ride home about the newest Ben 10 episode.

When you arrive at your house, your Second Grader will bound through the door and race upstairs to change into pajamas. His enthusiasm will give you pause, but you will shake your head and remind yourself that he just threw up. Right?

Once your Second Grader has come back downstairs (in record time) all comfy cozy in a hoodie and flannel pants, he will situate himself on the couch. He will ask you to turn on the tv and flip through the channels for him because, he will explain, he wouldn't want his germs to get on anything, like, a remote control. He will ask you for a pillow and a blanket, and as you hand him these comforts of home you will swear that you saw a hint of a smile from him, just for an instant.

And even though your first instinct, after feeling his fever-free head, is to send him back to school or at least hand him a book, you think again. Because even if this is a one-vomit episode, anyone who's spewed his breakfast all over his shoes and homework folder in front of 20 classmates has earned a get-out-of school-free-and-watch-Sponge-Bob-all-day card.


And then you hurry to disinfect the rest of the house before your Four Year Old gets home.

We Made It!

Halleflippinlujuah spring has sprung!



photo credits: The Four Year Old

Disney Detox

In the darkness of the morning,
as the sky struggles to light
May the rising sun caress and bless
your soul for all your life
- Bruce Springsteen


If there is a polar opposite of Disney World, it is the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health. As wonderful as a family vacation at the Happiest Place on Earth is, and as restorative as a few shots of Vitamin D are, neither of these things bring us closer to peace and harmony and all that good stuff.

I drove out towards the Berkshires Friday afternoon on my way to Kripalu. It is only a two hour drive from my home, but, in the ten plus years I've been living in Massachusetts, I have not had the opportunity to visit. I left my house feeling a heavy pang of guilt, which, since birthing my first born, has become a familiar emotion. What am I doing?, I thought to myself. My inner-maternal voice was making me second guess this decision to leave my family for two selfish nights for the sole purpose of, well, doing nothing.

Why is this nagging voice so difficult to silence?

I stopped at a rest area along the way where I met my yoga-teacher friend. We drove the rest of the way together, and reached Kripalu too late for dinner, but early enough to relax and find our way around the building.

Kripalu is not a luxury spa or even a moderately luxurious hotel. It is a renovated seminary. The guest rooms are sparse, the yoga rooms beautiful. There are cozy sofas and chairs tucked away in small window-facing nooks that look out into the Berkshire mountains. The food is healthy, organic, and, while there are meat options, heavily vegetarian. The food, in a word, is delicious. And, while I would probably say this about any meal that I didn't have to prepare myself, I really do swear by the deliciousness of it.

There are no expectations at Kripalu. No one asks or demands anything of you. Do what you can. A little bit at a time. Be healthy. It's a safe little bubble of peaceful goodness. It is easy to imagine how someone in the right (or wrong?) frame of mind could come here on a retreat and never leave. This is precisely how one man I have been recently reading about came to be a well known instructor here. When I walked by his office door over the weekend and saw his name plate on the wall, I whispered in awe, there's his office! Star struck by a yogi's closed office door. Can't get much better than that.

My friend and I chose to do yoga at 6:30 am, noon and 5:15pm. In between vigorous vinyasa classes, I escaped into my book, relaxed into a Vitamin C facial, and sunk into reclining chairs to talk with my friend, who, perhaps, needed this respite more than me.

It was an amazingly serene and near-perfect two days.

As I drove home yesterday evening, in the pouring rain, the guilt was gone. I needed this weekend more than I realized. When I pulled into our garage and got out of the car, my husband looked at me. Your glowing, he said. And I was. Despite the gray skies, I felt bathed in sun light. I felt still. I felt rested.

I suppose the glow could have been the result of the Vitamin C mask, but I think there was something more at work than over-priced skin care.

Having the opportunity (and luxury, really) to be in a space that allows us to breathe freely, and to detox from whatever we need detoxing from, whether it be a relationship, an anxious mind, a long, dark winter, or even a week in Disney World, is an extraordinary thing.

And it's a space like this that makes us glow.

Our Family Is Expanding

I saw a crocus popping out of the muddy soil (ah, mud season!) the other morning as I drove my son to preschool.

The ground is thawing. Plants are sprouting. The sun is casting a light at the end of this dark, seasonal-disordered tunnel.

I am happy.

But there is someone in this house who is even happier.

Someone who, for months, has been waiting, ever so patiently, for the snow to melt and the ground to warm.

He has been waiting, shovel in hand, for the chance to break into the loosened earth.

He has been waiting for his wiggly friends to awaken from their long, underground nap.

He has been waiting. Waiting for the worms.

Why?

To populate his farm, of course.

The Four Year Old received a worm farm for Christmas (what? the boy likes worms). Santa, however, did not read the fine print on the box, which clearly stated: worms not included. Santa might perhaps possibly be in denial about his waning eyesight.

Every day since Christmas morning, The Four Year Old has gotten his worm farm out of the box, put it together, and stared longingly at the empty plastic container. And every day, after explaining to him that we would have to dig up our own worms, he has complained, "but spring is SO far away". Tell me about it, buddy, tell me about it.

But at last, spring has sprung! And yesterday was worm catching day.

He blissfully plopped ten stunned and confused worms into their new home, one slimy, slithery thing by one. The boy was in full on worm-glory.



With the farm fully occupied, and conveniently located in my dining room, we can now watch our new worm friends dig their tunnels by simply lifting up their privacy screen. Did you know that worms need privacy? Oh, yes, they do. They don't like daylight, and, apparently they don't like to be watched. Who knew worms were so high maintenance modest?

Did you also know that worms need to be fed? Like, real, actual food. They thrive on a heart healthy diet of lettuce leaves, apples pieces and carrot peelings. So, in addition to children, a husband and two gerbils, I now have ten more mouths to feed. Awesome.



It's a good thing I loaded up on Vitamin D last week. Otherwise, I might be cranky about having worms in the house.

Vitamin D: The New Miracle Drug

Remember that time I complained incessantly about the cold, doomy, gloomy winter?

And how my husband, for his own survival, I suspect, bought me a happy light box?

Remember how I said that if the happy box didn't lift my winter-blued mood then we would have to think about doing something a little more drastic?

Yeah, well, we did something a little more drastic.

Trust me, I tried it all before we resorted to this. I did the yoga, I drank the wine, I jacked myself up on the caffeine, I even forced myself outside into freezing temperatures for the winter hikes.

None of it worked.

So we did the only thing left to do.

We purchased four plane tickets to The Happiest Place On Earth.



Here's what we didn't do, though. We didn't tell the children. I highly recommend this course of action when traveling with easily excitable, small people. Keeping them blissfully unaware eliminates any pre-trip sleepless nights and inevitable 'when-are-we-going?' whining.

We woke them up the morning of our departure, fed them their cheerios, and told them we were getting in the car and then on a plane and then on a tram and then on bus and then on another bus.

We really know how to get them excited.

The hurry up and wait day of travel was worth the effort. Because what we found when we finally reached the golden gates of Wally World the Magic Kingdom, surpassed all of my relatively low expectations.

I don't know whether it was the magic of Disney (*gag*, *gag*) or the diet of chocolate muffins (a.k.a. cake) for breakfast every morning, but these boys of ours, well, it turns out that they actually like each other. They behaved as if they were, um, friends for six glorious days.

They braved Darth Vader together. They saddled up next to each other on Spaceship Earth. They splashed and giggled together in the kiddie pool. They held hands and skipped their way down Main Street (taking great care to avoid anything princess related).

Who were these children?

Was it a miracle? A sprinkling of fairy dust from tinker bell? Or was it, perhaps, the mood altering effects of a kiddie sized vitamin D cocktail on a sugar cone?



Six days in the sunshine state + daily chocolate consumption = a whole lot of sugar coated vitamin D = happy.

Was it The Happiest Place On Earth? Nah, come on, it was Disney, and we're, you know, a liberal anti-big-establishment kind of family.

But it was pretty close.