tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48898569657361174042024-02-06T23:54:33.035-08:00CULTURED NATIVITYThe life and times of one woman, a remodel, two kids, and a memory of her former career.Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.comBlogger423125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-11590536646340472372021-05-27T05:33:00.004-07:002021-05-27T05:33:57.423-07:00Social Skills & Working Thrills<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://www.thebackyardpaso.com" target="_blank"><img alt="" data-original-height="690" data-original-width="1156" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4BXzBv1tsWd0gB8FbRwZv5mqWGWnJAFSmDnxc2FQtWsxuqe-B72r_Te_ft7D9nd5tRNJYw1oKtzBChcLchjuu3ALkPYiUeR5fw-Gtxw_THxvGp_1eoQZ_PYIhueSYr1Xv_fqcZIOJjtko/" width="320" /></a></span></div><br /><br /><p></p><p> "So, how are things?"</p><p>I pause, not sure how should I answer that...."Great! We've started a new project."</p><p>"Another winery? When will you learn?"</p><p>I spent the evening at a local beer garden, sipping cold ale, reveling in the cool misters raining welcome solace to the Paso sun, and trying to hone my elevator pitch. A gathering of Paso's wine industry where I saw a few old friends, and many new faces. Most of Paso's wine royalty is full of casual characters who attend fundraisers and social events in wrinkled tee-shirts and dusty Blundstones. But there are always a few shiny objects in the mix, and tonight was no different. I had the pleasure of conversing with the one young woman in attendance who brought her fashion A game, sporting a trend setting black hat and matching suede stiletto booties (yes, in May...). She was bright eyed, bushy tailed and ready to network on the gravel garden floor. Lavishly teasing her winery's newest chef menu, shaking hands with all the right people, and apparently impervious to the 90 degree weather in her tight gray business dress.</p><p>I am sure she did not arrive home cursing herself for missing an opportunity to talk to Paso's newest, young French restauranteur. And I'm sure she didn't leave the event in a rush without saying goodbye to the host, racing home for a virtual academic awards night that she was just late enough to miss the announcement of her child's name. Oooph, setting one foot in the working world has a way of upending parenting success. Can I get an Amen?</p><p>"So, how are things?"</p><p>Apparently, we can't seem to get enough of this wine industry thing and the irony of our timing is not lost on me. Just when most of my 40 something winery friends are hiring more general managers, looking to sell out and making more self care time for yoga classes and coffee dates, I'm shedding my stay-at-home status for website design meetings, market research and label approvals. So, so much more to come with this. Stay tuned.</p>Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-46128687184846899312021-05-07T08:56:00.004-07:002021-05-07T15:59:53.545-07:00Obituary Inspo<p> <img alt="Old Newspaper Images, Stock Photos & Vectors | Shutterstock" height="259" src="https://image.shutterstock.com/image-vector/old-newspaper-vintage-design-retro-260nw-485390743.jpg" width="352" /></p><p>I read the obituaries every morning. Oh, yes, this means I also receive an actual hand held, tossed on my driveway recycled paper newspaper every morning.</p><p>I turned 44 this year and find myself musing the arrival of 50 sooner than ever. At times, it's a feeling of shock and dread, bordering on depression. But more often than not, it's a fist pump, a flex of my muscles and a wry snub to that old lady staring back at me in the mirror. </p><p>"Damn straight, woman, I am almost 50 and feeling pretty damned fabulous despite what you might look like over there," I declare.</p><p>I have figured out a few things along the way. I am still screwing things up, too. The point is, I strive to improve everyday and those obituaries are my life coach. What do I want my obituary to say?</p><p>Lately, I have newfound sense of urgency to check some boxes. I wouldn't say they're on my bucket list. I would just admit to always wanting to do some things that I haven't yet accomplished. Suddenly, I'm setting goals and making proclamations about them. So, I'll keep reading those inspiring obituaries, you know the the ones that bring a smile to your face or a tear to your eye. They often list all the redeeming characteristics and personality traits of the deceased.</p><p> "She welcomed and accepted everyone as they are" or "His zest for life and laughter never waned in his 94 years on this earth." And I'll revel in the lists of career paths and achievements they had with sincere admiration. And I'll aspire to fill my own obituary chock full of great qualities, admirable wisdom and exciting accomplishments. </p>Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-37754033314511773702021-05-02T15:31:00.002-07:002021-05-07T16:15:20.025-07:00College Bound, By God<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFoW7vLKAkKb5P-IysE0Dny9wx0bmBJ-eKCYFa6rklV2n7utOINoxs4rZ2M_un7DxS5s_1o_glCxnooPsa6LBsW_1g4iepFk9xvF7jAlJ-6PznWgVv791XnpkSIwYDT6OUw7AV8pYeEAho/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1539" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFoW7vLKAkKb5P-IysE0Dny9wx0bmBJ-eKCYFa6rklV2n7utOINoxs4rZ2M_un7DxS5s_1o_glCxnooPsa6LBsW_1g4iepFk9xvF7jAlJ-6PznWgVv791XnpkSIwYDT6OUw7AV8pYeEAho/" width="319" /></a></div><br />Four days, two hotels, three tanks of gas and four college campuses later the girls and I are battling it out in traffic on the 405, barreling home in a heap of exhaustion. Other than that last exit I missed which added an additional hour to our already LONG road trip, I am commending myself the whole way home for a successful outing to see academia at its best in Southern California.<p></p><p>*Hi Five to ME*</p><p>It has never been a question of IF the kids will go to college, just a matter of WHERE. John and I have done nothing short of brainwash our children into visualizing their romantic future of dorm rooms and all night studying, independence, new friends and exciting academic focus. Successful parenting is all about manifesting your destiny, and theirs. Just keep repeating whatever positive messages and successful futures you envision for your little ones, make a deal with the devil somewhere along the way, and POOF! Your dreams become their reality. </p><p>Well, okay the jury might still be out on my proclamation but I promise to keep you posted!</p><p>This trip began with a thoughtfully curated itinerary kicked off by expansive ocean views, warm sunny weather, fancy drinks poolside, bike rides on the beach boardwalk, and a bit of swimsuit shopping. In 24 hours I had them eating out of my hand. Anna, in all of her 13 year old wisdom, proclaimed it first, "I love this town and I am definitely going to college here." 16 year old Shelby nodded along enthusiastically adding, "Oh yeah, this is where I want to be after graduation, for sure!"</p><p>We probably could have skipped the tours altogether after that first day, headed home and started the application process. As hard as it is to believe that I am at this point in my parenting life, touring schools, talking about acceptance rates and tuition fees, I am genuinely excited for Shelby. Most of me is focused on magnifying her pursuit of college acceptance letters in order to minimize the inevitable loss of my first born child, and the shift in our family unit that I have known and loved.</p><p>"I am at peace with everything that has happened, and will happen....Ohhmmmmm."</p><p>Manifest your destiny, right? She will go on to college, we will adapt and everything will be okay. </p><p><br /></p>Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0San Diego, CA, USA32.715738 -117.16108384.4055041638211563 -152.3173338 61.025971836178847 -82.0048338tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-43796242353586754402019-02-19T11:02:00.001-08:002021-05-07T16:24:46.435-07:00Flash Time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh7KYZHczf4S3auK9GsJ4BNQxeAqqUwl21udDOjiRcnSHJQ5pHRH7ArM_9eU6-UrZXfoU-GWyrpfU-NmGDTIdDFn-hRMXZNgr_7sHQaUvBaB2EDpzmqrWUaG8lJ5hB8rCw1CGUgBW-e_oS/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh7KYZHczf4S3auK9GsJ4BNQxeAqqUwl21udDOjiRcnSHJQ5pHRH7ArM_9eU6-UrZXfoU-GWyrpfU-NmGDTIdDFn-hRMXZNgr_7sHQaUvBaB2EDpzmqrWUaG8lJ5hB8rCw1CGUgBW-e_oS/" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>It's been years since I posted and so much has happened and keeps happening. Since we last chatted I've remodeled a house, started a business, idiotically added another puppy to our life, ran a few ultra marathons, reorganized my closet in one day, ended a business, became my husband's full time secretary and bookkeeper, and successfully killed 3 vacuum cleaners. All of this seems to be reflected in my tired and gently sagging face. And despite the constant tug of age and gravity, I keep buying the newest miracle beauty products with renewed enthusiasm. Thanks to my new friends at the Forever35 podcast, I'm looking for a second job to afford all the potions and serums in my bathroom drawer. <br />
"Do I look younger?" I ask John every night after another slathering. <br />
You know how Family Circle magazines break down the per person cost of a meal in their recipe section? "Only $1.87 per person for this healthy meal!"<br />
My latest night time routine averages just $4.34 a night! I should just spring for the Botox and give up on all this hoodoo voodoo. <br />
In other news, my darling Shelby has ventured onto the high school scene this year with sparks, fireworks, and gusto. I'm doing my damned best to embrace every moment, open our home to her friends and events, drive her everywhere she wants and needs to be, and enthusiastically support (almost) everything in her life with an open mind and heart. So far, pretty good. Okay, I'll admit I did call John after a recent screaming match and utter the words, "Just 3 and a half more years."<br />
In all honesty, that kid is pretty great. She really has the world by a string right now. It's only matter of time before some boy comes along and does his best to derail her success. Eeek!<br />
My little one, Ana, is wrapping up her last year on the elementary school campus with panache. As my dad would say, "She's feathering in, that one." More responsible, more capable, and just plain fun these days with a full dance card every day. 11 is such a great age! <br />
I can't wait to share more updates of life in my shoes.<br />
<br />
<br />Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-45378518912429542672016-09-01T13:53:00.001-07:002016-09-01T13:53:02.594-07:00The kids are OK, but what about me? She walked across the middle school campus in tight jeans, never glancing back at the car, her long golden locks winking at me as if they had a secret. I can't believe she's in 7th grade. I-can't-believe-it.
I thought I was ready in the lingering weeks of summer, her hormones pushing every limit with me and her little sis, Ana. Her emotions ebbing between cheerfulness and brooding irritation. "This is good," I thought, "She's growing up, she's ready for a change." We shopped for new school clothes and cleaned out her closet. I even helped her shave!<br />
With pit and leg hair removed, I figured we were ready for junior high. And then she went. And she walked in her tight jeans with her long flowing hair across that campus where she knew not a soul and disappeared into the crowd.
I think my heart stretched completely out of my chest and as far across that campus as it could before it snapped back inside of me, shredded and tired.
She's only 11. She's just a little girl. She still rides in the back seat of my car! Some of those girls had full faces of makeup and the curves to go with it. They looked dewy and composed, a stark contrast to the bedraggled, crepey skinned mother in the driver's seat. It looked as though with every year closer to womanhood the child got, the closer to death the mother became...eventually ending with one perfectly complete and womanly 16 year old and then the mother a little, shriveled waste.<br />
I dropped Ana off at her elementary school for 4th grade. She was all set. I'd done my utmost finagling to ensure the perfect year of fourth grade for her. She had the dynamic teacher and the perfect chemistry of classmates to boot. She was going to have a superstar year. And she didn't look back as she bounced across campus to her friends.<br />
Minutes after pulling away from the elementary school I began to orchestrate my day around the middle school campus, which isn't easy to do since it's in the neighboring town from our house. Should I walk the dog on the trails to the north or the south of campus? Or should I just sit in the parking lot, stalker style, during lunch?
Eventually, I found myself winding my way up a trail to the nearest hilltop with the dog, craning my neck from the lookout at her new campus in hopes that I could catch a glimpse. Is she ok? Did she find someone to eat lunch with? Is she feeling uncool? Is someone jealous of her tight jeans and is now whispering behind her back? UGH. I can't see ANYTHING from here!<br />
The minutes of the day dragged on and my heart followed in tortured silence.
Finally it was time to start the pickup process. At the elementary school I was greeted with the happiest version of Ana. She chatted on about the Zoomba breaks her teacher took and the fact that she played the guitar and they learned a song! "This teacher is right up your alley," I said as I secretly congratulated my strategic antics for orchestrating the whole thing.
We pulled into the middle school parking lot 20 minutes early and parked. I felt anxious and scared and reminded myself that hugs are always best for bad days. "I will listen and support. I will encourage. I will cheer her up," I repeated to myself like a mantra of help in the calm before what I feared to be a storm of loneliness. I mean, ALL of her friends went to the other junior high. And they were all really good kids who she'd been friends with since kindergarten. This was a disaster, how could I send her to this school all by herself? I chewed on my nail and thought about how I might be able to transfer her to the other campus by next week.
Sparkling golden locks caught my eye as she floated along the crosswalk. Here she comes...."Hi Mommy!" she chirped and piled into the back seat of the car. That's right, the back seat. I spun around in my seat, the engine off, "Sooo? How was it?" I managed, trying to sound positive.
Her face broke into a glowing smile, I mean, she was beaming with joy?!??<br />
"It was really good!" she smiled.<br />
"Really?" I smiled back in confusion, "Tell me all the details and start from the beginning!"<br />
So, the kids are ok. They are ok. But what about me? So why does my heart feels like it's been shredded into criss-cut fries? Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-89734844873197580862014-06-01T10:26:00.002-07:002014-06-07T07:15:01.394-07:00Annals of Paranoia
I'm paranoid. The paranoia shifts depending on the day or month. Last year I read an article about a zero waste family and suddenly became obsessed with creating unnecessary landfill waste....so I stopped buying Ziplock baggies, switched to wax coated sandwich bags and bought a ton of tupperware to send my kids' lunches in. Recently, I read the following article on BPA-Free plastics:
http://www.motherjones.com/environment/2014/03/tritan-certichem-eastman-bpa-free-plastic-safe
and became paranoid of plastics-how it was breaking down into our foods, our milk, our bodies. Much to John's dismay, this led me to throw out every plastic cup and tupperware (I recycled it, of course!)we owned. I bought Klean Kanteen's Stainless Steel cups for the kids to drink out of and $50 worth of stainless steel food compartments from steeltainer.com and lunchbots.com.
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This week it's processed foods....so this morning the girls and I made these yummy No Bake protein granola bars. SO GOOD!
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Home-Made No Bake Peanut Butter Protein Bars Recipe from the lean green bean website:
<b>No Bake Protein Bars</b>
<i>An homemade, no-bake version of your favorite store-bought peanut butter protein bar, without all the crazy ingredients.
Ingredients
1 cup oat flour (i just ground up oats in my food processor until I have enough to fill 1 cup)</i>
<i>1 cup vanilla protein powder (2 heaping scoops)
1 cup Rice chex cereal
2 Tbsp chia seeds
½ cup peanut butter
¼ cup milk
3 Tbsp honey
1-2 Tbsp water
3 Tbsp chocolate chips, optional
Instructions
In a large bowl, combine the flour, protein powder, cereal and chia seeds.
In a small bowl, combine the peanut butter, milk and honey.
Microwave for 30 seconds, stir and microwave 15-30 sec more.
Add liquid mixture into dry ingredients and stir to combine.
Add 1-2 Tbsp water if necessary to make sure all dry ingredients are moistened. (Mixture will be crumbly).
Use parchment paper to press the mixture into an 8x8 pan (I use a 9x9 and just leave about an inch empty on one side).
Freeze for 20 minute.
Cut into bars (I cut mine into 8 bars).
Store in an airtight container in the fridge or freezer.
Melt chocolate and spread or drizzle over the bars.
Notes
You could use unflavored protein powder but you'd probably need to increase the amount of honey for sweetness and you might need to decrease the milk.
You could use other cereals like Rice Krispies instead of the Chex.
Use your favorite nut butter if you don't like peanut butter.</i>
We pulsed a cup of dark chocolate chips to make them really chocolatey and added them to the dry mix. We also added a tablespoon of flaxseed meal and used NAVITAS Naturals' Superfod Smoothie Protein Mix with Hemp-Cacao-Maca. Key words: NO-BAKEGibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-19286674563247900712012-09-15T13:46:00.001-07:002012-09-15T13:46:51.102-07:00Cheap TricksAs promised, just a few days late, my top ten tricks for saving that kizzo for a rainy day (or a Nordstrom's Sale...).
Love the One You're With: Check out your current accounts that may be hemoraging under your watch.
#1) Examine that monthly trash bill. Do you really need the big trash can? In my town, the green waste and recycle bins are free-no matter how big. So the price is based on the size of your trash bin. We have the tiniest bin for a family of four and it dropped our cost to less than $10/month! RECYCLE MORE.
#2) KILL YOUR CABLE I mean really, unplug yourself from mainstream America and think outside the box (the cable box, that is). With Netflix and Amazon Prime (free online streaming of zillions of tv shows and movies AND free 2 day shipping) all you really need is a Blu-Ray player for a little tv fix. The other benefit is that all that time wasted in front of the tv can be spent elsewhere-like on the lawn playing ball with your kiddos.
#3) Cancel junk mail and catalogs, because every time I flip through those pages, I covet more stuff I need to spend money on. Sure, it's a little disheartening to stare into the gaping darkness of an empty mailbox, but think of all those trees you're saving! Go to https://www.catalogchoice.org/ and https://www.dmachoice.org/dma/member/regist.action to stop junk mail.
#4) Make 30 of these burritos (Thanks Holly!) and freeze them for peace of mind, nutrition and a quick hearty meal whenever you need one. Kid friendly, too!
INGRDIENTS:
Scrambled Eggs, Bacon, Sauteed Veggie (like onion, zuchini, or red bell pepper), Black Beans, Shredded Cheese (lots), Giant Burrito Sized Tortillas.
Directions: Set up an assembly line of the Ingredients, make a pile in the center of the tortilla and wrap into a burrito. Then seer each burrito in a little olive oil and butter on a hot pan, melting the cheese and crisping the tortilla. Then, wrap the tortilla in a sheet of tin foil. Pop into a freezer bag and stash in the freezer for future sanity. You'll thank me (and Holly) later. Feel free to substitute items like chicken or hot sauce or whatever else works for you.
#4) Avoid Target and TJ Maxx. Just don't go in. Don't do it!
#5) Buy 4 at a time. If you can store it, just get 3 or 4 of the following household staples-it will save you in driving trips to the store, fuel, time, and scattered craziness. Dish detergent, Toilet Paper, laundry detergents, Soaps, Tampons, Sunscreen, etc. You get the idea. Give yourself the green light on buying the hell out of this stuff. And you'll be sufficiently prepared for Armageddon.
#6) If your car still runs, drive it. No new car will save you money-it just makes you look cooler (yeah, that IS jealousy in my voice). If you have to look at new cars, calculate the payment you will make plus the insurance....$500? $700? a month??? And start putting that amount in your savings account every month you drive your beater.
#7) Reorganize your closet. Clean out the old shit you hate, iron the stuff that's wrinkly, color coordinate it, fold it, stack it and make it pretty. That old wardrobe will look so much more appealing when you sell it to yourself like a department store display.
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#8) Avoid coffee shops-those $4 coffees will make you go broke. Instead, get yourself a cute mug that matches your purse and rock that homemade brew everywhere you go. Like froth and steamed milk but don't have the doohicky to make it? We bought a $19 frother we use for microwaved milk and ADORE every hoome cup of coffee! YUMMMY!
#9) Buy used....craigslist, ebay, garage sales, and thrift shops. If you want it, it's out there.
#10) Just say no. To your kids, to yourself.
If all else fails, just buy it, hide it in the back of your closet and practice saying, "What THIS OLD THING?!? I've had this for Aaaggges!" Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-70097738911826622592012-09-10T13:45:00.001-07:002012-09-10T13:45:12.670-07:00Six Degrees or lessA local surfer in our little town passed away yesterday. He was the father of 4 and had suffered the loss of their mother in a tragic car accident years ago.
I wouldn't call myself a friend, just an acquaintance if that. But just the same, I feel heavy with this news because it's just....sad. Any parent with young kids has to find something about this that resonates with them.
It got me thinking about the school where his children go and all the families who share their daily life on the campus, in the carpool, and in the classroom. All of which will share this heavy burden of grief with his kids' today and in their future.
I never realized just how interwoven we become as parents at a school just by doing the daily carpool and volunteering in the classrooms. I've realized that I know a lot about the kids my children go to school with, and I've learned a lot about the story of their families over the years. I learned about Mailie's new baby sister who's been in the NICU for 5 weeks waiting to grow big enough to come home. I celebrated the final chemo treatment of a kindergarten classmate (why do these things have to happen to kids???). I've had the pleasure of meeting grandparents and big brothers, stepmoms and neighbors who run carpool. These are all people who are shaping the environment my daughters learn and live in every day by the way they choose to parent and interact with their own kids.
It's amazing how small the world gets when you begin to think this way. When you put your child in a social situation where they interact, play and learn together with other people's kids....wait, it's almost like-REAL LIFE! It's like the way we choose to treat eachother actually matters....
Hm, I'm going to chew on that one for a little while. Back to my point about DRay..
I hope, as members of a community, and humans, that we can comfort his kids with open arms, plates of food, and plenty of help, happiness and encouragement along their path of life. R.I.P Dustin Ray
Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-52427233845492143012012-09-06T10:54:00.001-07:002012-09-06T10:54:16.896-07:00Frugal? What, Me?!I've been hanging out in random parking lots with makeshift beds in my car, half a week's worth of groceries and luggage strewn from the front seat to the trunk. No, I am not homeless.
I'm just a mom who's kids suddenly lead active afterschool lives. And I'm trying to plan ahead, eliminate extra trips around town, and not spend the last of our savings on gas station snacks and overpriced water bottles.
I know, I know, I've said it a million times, "Why don't they have drive-through everythings?" And I still believe in that motto....I just don't want to pay for it these days. Instead, I'm packing up piles of tupperware with leftovers and lugging coolers of snacks from place to place. Anyone hungry for a slab of enchilada?
Call it an epiphany, call it confession, but I have some serious issues with overusing those handy little plastic rectangles I have bulging in my wallet! John came home the other day and asked me to set a savings goal.
"Are you planning on quitting your job?!" I mused. He snickered. I took the bait, just the same, and did a little research. The idea of a well padded savings account gave me a sudden sense of calm, like a good massage, no rainy day could rock my world if I had already saved for it, right? And just like that, I was off on a new mission to "Save and Protect" my sanity and that of my family's.
I discovered that my bank offers a Personal Finance Manager on their website and boy does it expose some unholy truths about my spending habits. Don't tell John, but I couldn't believe how often I swiped, charged and debited our account for little things like a trip to the icecream store for an afterschool snack (every day for a whole week in a row!?), an extra spin around Rite Aid for all sorts of fun creams and soaps and new French Manicure polish (totalling $94.67). Not only was I going to make my kiddos fatter than Santa with all that icecream, but our bank account was looking pretty anorexic.
So, that's how I found myself in a parking lot living like a homeless person with my kids in our car. No more quick trips to Target to skim the Clearance Aisles, or Costco hotdogs, no more daily Jamba Juice. Nope, we are exercising our right to public property and "spend-safe" parking lots where Mommy can't use her credit cards. The girls think our new "camp" is fantastic. When do we ever get to hang out with the trunk open, curl up together with blankets and pillows and read books, eat snacks and watch movies? Yeah, we look homeless and to be honest, we kind of are during our school days in another town a little too far from home. But, I'm padding the bank account this way, I'm earning my worth as a spend thrift mommy who's actually spending more face time with her kids and less time pushing them in a shopping cart.
Tune in next week for my top 10 NEW tips on saving money! And feel free to chime in with any thrift worthy tricks you have, too.Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-32713133494998899672012-08-30T10:29:00.001-07:002012-08-30T10:29:31.588-07:00Smart Small Moments and Stupid CommitmentsAging has it's drawbacks: the wrinkles, gravity, gray hair, the wrinkles.
But lately I'm savoring those little moments in my hectic life as an "almost stay at home mom" (though I'm NEVER home!)with an older and wiser perspective.
Like the first day of school when I watched Ana and her new class sing the morning's goodbye song to an anxious crowd of parents. She turned to say "Adios! Goodbye" with the broadest grin and just then I realized I was saying goodbye to my baby and hello to my kindergartener. Our whole world as a family was changing in that very moment.
I'd love to think that I'll remember that image forever but as I write this, I'd bet dollars to donuts my memory fails me in nanoseconds. I can't recall the way the morning went 3 years ago when I hugged Shelby, my oldest, on her first day of Kinder. I do, however, remember crying in the car the whole way home that day! But this year, I'm older and wiser, and I only cried on the playground before realizing that mommy's "me time" clock was ticking and 3 hours of kindergarten would go fast!
I wish I could cement the image of Shelby in my mind on her first day of school this year; perfect pig tails, bright blue sweater, grinning nervously as she found her "big girl" desk in the third grade classroom-finally a desk that isn't 10 inches off the ground! Upon seeing her own name, and then her best friend's name on the connecting desk, she plopped right down, straightened her back and folded her hands. "Bye Mommy!" she smiled. Well, I guess that does it...
This wisened perspective is predicting future burnout, too. Annually, I over commit myself and my kids before September first. Trying out new gymnastics classes, piano lessons, dance. I've managed to cram every morning with classroom volunteering, cooking meals, for the harvest crew, and work. Ever the ambitious family who predictably approaches collosal meltdown phase by week 4 of the school year when we can't manage our hectic life anymore. And then I hate the world. And the best part is, I'm doing it all over again this year with a giddy ignorance. Yay! Sure we'll try that twice a week dance class and, ooh, let's add an art class before school-grrrreeaatt idea! And maybe we can even donate our time to the soup kitchen every Friday night well past a reasonable bedtime because I can't think of any better way to throw my family's sanity to the wolves.
I'll check in with reality next week and let you know how Stupidity and The Beast of Commitment are doing.
Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-74728009082273467732012-08-22T21:37:00.001-07:002012-08-22T21:37:07.858-07:00I'm Not Ready For Kindergarten!Dear Ana,<br />
You've grown so fast in just five years and I can hardly believe you're walking into Kindergarten tomorrow morning. I thought this day would never arrive, and now I find that I'm completely unprepared. <br />
We have talked all summer about this big step in your life, you becoming a big kid. We've read the library books, stocked your closet, picked your outfit and packed your lunch. We've even talked about how you're feeling a little scared for what tomorrow will bring.<br />
Tonight, you chatted about making plans for your kinder preparedness, "Maybe Shelby can get me and Caroline (your friend) and teach us all about kindergarten in some lessons, Mommy."<br />
I realized I wasn't ready as soon as we walked into the Kinder Round-Up yesterday. You leaned against me as we met your teacher. And I found myself nervously fiddling with your tiny blonde french braids. I found your hand and held on tight as we wandered the room, decorating your cubby, putting up your picture, observing the play yard. <br />
I've done this before, I did kindergarten with your sister, Shelby, 3 years ago. And that time, it was me that was completely nervous about kindergarten. Not Shelby, she never looked back. This time, you and I are partners, equally apprehensive about the start of this new school year. But you're more prepared and me, I'm Not Ready For Kindergarten. Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-2304890496443176732012-08-16T21:54:00.001-07:002012-08-16T21:54:26.789-07:00Well DeservedI'm locked in the garage furiously folding laundry. Wait, I don't do that! WTF?! <br />
And my daughters (ages 8 and turning 5 today)don't usually earn themselves repeated time outs for back talking, fighting and biting (biting?!? I thought we were past that!).<br />
So far, the birthday girl-on her birthday-has lost the privilege to open her gifts....who the hell offered that punishment???? Shelby, her older sister, has spent more time today screaming from her time outs than she has functioning in the household. WHAT HAPPENED????<br />
So, I'm locked in the garage folding laundry like a possessed housewife evaluating the word "Deserve". My kids have always deserved things because they're (almost) always well behaved, follow my directions, live up to my expectations with their public behavior and are generally enjoyable children. So, yes, I bought them new school clothes and a few new shoes. It's summer time so okay, I've taken them to the water park, and to horse camp and gymnastics camp. And, I admit, we've had ice cream practically every day over the past 5 weeks, but hey, it's summer and let's face it-my kids are pretty awesome. They deserve that...<br />
Well, they "were" awesome up until today. As a parent, it's important to always examine the bigger picture, so let's rewind a few days: We had a big weekend. Their cousins stayed overnight (for the first time) and we hung out at a fundraiser/bounce house and then attended a birthday party (okay, a HUGE weekend). Needless to say, by Monday morning the girls were downright pooped. And unfortunately for us all, this day would allow zero down time. It was a day of celebration. It was Ana's 5th birthday and that's when my well-deserving children went perfectly wonky.<br />
That's when I found myself resisting the urge to physically shake them into shape in a pleasant little waterfront cafe at Ana's birthday lunch with Mimi. Instead, I sat stabbing at my salad while my daughters lay completely prone across the bench seats kicking one another and pulling each other's hair. I will not freak out. I will not freak out.<br />
So now I'm asking myself, as I load the 6th pile of pinks in the washer,did I spoil them? Did I create these devil children? Have I given them too much? Do I deserve this behavior from my kids in public?<br />
The word deserve means to be entitled to or worthy of. Does this mean that I am entitled to foul and rotten treatment from my children for what I've given them? Do we deserve an entire day like this? <br />
Tomorrow, I've decided that we will all suffer the day together in solitary confinement-no play dates, no ice cream, no presents, no nothing. The theme for the day is "Breaking Bad" as it will be my personal mission to break any bad behaviors I witnessed today by the end of tomorrow. <br />
"John," I declare, with my hand held in oath, "I swear to you by the time you arrive home from work tomorrow I will have rehabilitated our children to their normal pleasant selves. Tomorrow we will be 'Breaking Bad.'"<br />
Wish me luck. Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-68521610177171923742012-08-09T12:54:00.000-07:002012-08-09T12:54:13.677-07:00Lonesome MomOkay, I have a confession to make: ever since I became a mom I've been secretly daydreaming of my freedom...of having two free hands to eat a meal....going to the bathroom alone....finishing a sentence without being interrupted.....IT FINALLY HAPPENED TODAY! ALL DAY!! And I was "with" my kiddos at the local water park for 6 hours. I finished complete conversations to the point of boredom with my friends, I ate entirely too much because my hands were free and empty, and yes, I even went to the bathroom all by myself, twice.<br />
And halfway through the day I noticed a sinking feeling in my stomach-was it from that giant slice of cheese pizza? No, it felt different than indigestion, it felt like a pang of lonely, it felt like....WHAM! I nearly fell out of my lounge chair when I zeroed in on the fact that my children were totally independent of me. That my days as a doting mother were over, my kids can swim, they can go to the bathroom (albeit in the pool, but still!), they can carry their own tubes up the stairs to the top of the water slide, and they know how to check in with me. <br />
"Shelby! Sheellllbyyy!" I shouted over the crashing water of the wave pool. She was happily chatting away to a group of her girlfriends while bobbing up and down in a sea of swimmers. We had floated around the lazy river together, not because she asked me to go with her, but because my nephew needed me to help him into an inter tube (thank you, L!). When we emerged from the river ride, Shelby and her friends floated right out into the next pool. <br />
"Shheellllby!" I tried once more to no avail. I realized it was futile and that all I really wanted was her acknowledgement. I wanted her to know where I was...in case she needed me....but it was apparent that she didn't need me at all. And she was perfectly happy not needing me. I AM NOT NEEDED. Stop screaming at your daughter who does not need you, you crazy goon.<br />
In an embarrassed flourish, I sped over to the kiddie pools where my baby, my nearly 5 year old Ana was swimming in a pod of toddlers, no, not toddlers....kids. I needed a mommy hug. Expecting an open armed hug from Ana, I made a beeline for her. Surely she would want me to swirl her around or help her up the slide....and just as I closed in on her she swam away. She never looked back. <br />
I watched her hustle up the path to the water slide and giggle her way down. When she landed, I stepped in to swoop her up but she splashed past me and up the path to the slide again.<br />
Dejected, I trudged back to my lounge chair. With my daydream fully realized, I used both of my free hands to shove a sympathy piece of pizza in my mouth. This wasn't how it was supposed to feel. This feels sad and bitter. I'm digging deep for that joyous feeling of freedom and happiness and I'm asking my friends for some help.<br />
"Don't worry, they'll need you later today," says Karen.<br />
But I don't want to be needed when they're tired and whining and demanding! I want to enjoy them while they're happy, while they're fun, when I can get some sense of reward for being their mommy! I want my babies back!<br />
As I look at my very pregnant sister-in-law I have a radical thought...."Maybe I should get pregnant again so I can have a baby who needs me." <br />
POOF! And just like that, I've officially snapped myself into crazy. The thought is gone, the urge to procreate left just as soon as it arrived. I'll take the whiny kiddos later in the day but just know that this is not the way I planned things. This isn't how it was supposed to turn out. Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-46118606972622900402012-08-02T11:33:00.003-07:002012-08-02T11:33:45.491-07:00It's been a long time since I rock n rolled"Do you know anything about the SUCH AND SUCH School District?" my friend, Karey, asked as we mulled over fashion magazines while drinking beer in the summer sun. Her kids were happily entertaining my kids in the yard with a sword fighting routine to LMFAO's "Party Rock!" at deafening levels (to the neighbor's dismay). Karey and I were doing what we do best, surviving summer parenting with frequent play dates...usually accompanied by beer. She and I were readily anticipating the start of school in a few weeks as both of our daughters would be plunging into kindergarten this year while our oldest would begin third grade.<br />
"Oh no!" I panicked, "You're not thinking about going back to work, are you?!?!?"<br />
My heart rate skyrocketed and I felt myself doing this squinchy thing with my knees to keep myself from ejecting out of my seat in horror.<br />
And in that moment, as she calmly explained that yes, she was considering going back to work, I realized that we were approaching the end of an era. That my job as a stay at home mom was being restructured, merged into reality and quickly phased out, "I'M GOING EXTINCT!!!!!"<br />
I feel like a college graduate the day after her commencement ceremony, boxing up books and tossing out the backpack and realizing that, "Holy Shit, I've catapulted into the real world. Now what?!?"<br />
Eight years ago, I happily left my classroom teaching job with a swelling belly and an eagerness for life as a mommy. Over the next 4 years I welcomed both of our daughters into the world with joy and pride, I nurtured and guided them, and stood by my husband as he plowed through his daily life as the career man, bringing home the....well, it was more like corned beef before it evolved into bacon these last few years. Back then life was penny pinching and making sacrifices and it was exciting and new learning to grow into parents and foster ourselves as a budding young family. And more recently, as the girls have become older and more independent, needing us both a little less, our lives, my life has become.... well, it's just NICE!!! My day is slow and fairly smooth, unless you count a little sibling rivalry or a few mounds of laundry. I can go for a run while the girls are at gymnastics, do the dishes, clean the house and at the end of the day collect my family, make a nice meal, bathe my kids, listen to my husband over a glass of wine and dare I say it, feel good about my calm and rewarding day of being a mom, being a homemaker, and being a wife. And that's it...<br />
I didn't realize until Karey shared her newest plans that somehow, over the last few years, one by one my friends....ALL of my friends have made their way back to the working world. I didn't notice until now. No wonder my knees were smashed together and my blood pressure was soaring as she babbled on about this part time counseling job she's interested in. Is that the sound of my beer bottle cracking? <br />
Somehow, I missed the memo and didn't recognize that nagging loneliness that haunts my day-oh, come on, you know The Lonely I'm talking about when you dial up everyone you know in hopes of having a chat and just maybe they'll have two minutes for a quick coffee or a pedicure-was actually stemming from the fact that everyone was busier than me. That everyone else (while I had my head in brownie mix or sewing buttons on fairy costumes) had opened other doors, stepped through, shook hands with a job and was gradually picking up more work and setting down their parenting life. They were letting go of one phase and welcoming the new act, and then there's me....pink frilly pillow over head, curled up in my daughter's bunk bed singing nursery rhymes and playing Barbies.<br />
Well, I guess that explains the nightmare I had last night about falling down an elevator shaft....<br />
Okay, so I am dead last in this race we call life right now and I am feeling left out. Ok, check.<br />
And I'm aware that my last child will be full time in school this year and I'll have more hours in my day to myself. Ok, check. (isn't that what malls and nail salons are for????)<br />
But what I don't know is how to fill those hours!!! NOT check!!<br />
What do I want to be when I grow up? What door was I supposed to open, who's hand was I supposed to shake when everyone else was signing contracts and hiring nannies? Where did I go wrong?<br />
Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-16922603533432108392010-07-19T10:09:00.000-07:002010-07-19T10:43:23.741-07:00Does PMS Leave you cranky and crampy? Take the RAW food challengeI just finished a one month cycle of increased raw food in my diet in hopes of alleviating the severities of PMS. I know, I know, this is a little TMI but somebody has to talk about it and I'm here to further embarrass and expose myself in cyberspace. Self worth is over-rated.<br />For the past four weeks, I have spent the majority of my weekdays chopping, slicing and whisking up dinners for myself and my man. Eliminating meat, wheat, most dairy, and anything cooked. Think fruit, citrus salads, leafy greens and lots of raw nuts. My exceptions to this RAW food madness was yogurt and eggs and occasionally serving a side of germinated rice or organic couscous along with dinner. Oh, and in case you were wondering, wine, beer and vodka DO fall in the category of RAW food. Especially when served with a slice of lime or some speared green olives. My goal was to reduce the cramping, throbbing legs, backaches, exhaustion and whatever other joyous symptoms arrive every month in my feminine world. <br />Weekends were exempt because, well, between fourth of July and various vacations, it wasn't my goal to wander around social events making a spectacle of my-raw-self, refusing to nibble from the cheese plate or denying myself steak and potatoes....instead carrying a hemp hewn satchel full of jicama sticks and sprouted garbanzos while chanting my mantra and showing off my lotus position. And no, I haven't grown out my armpit hair just yet.<br />Oh, the point of all this is that I have some results to share!<br />Pre RAW, Aunt Flo always brought along a variety of relatives: Crampy, Throbbing, Achy and Sleepy. And she'd hang around for at least 7 days!! Today I stand before you with Aunt Flo on her 5th and final day of visitation, a very midget version of Throbbing in tow and no other visitors!! "Don't let the door hit ya on your way out!!"<br />With all this good news to share, I feel compelled to take an even deeper plunge into the world of RAW in my excitement. Maybe I'll add another day of my weekend to the RAW regiment...Sunday? Maybe I'll experiment with more coconut milk. Maybe I'll stop shaving...<br />Well, anyway, if Aunt Flo is your monthly nemesis, or you care to take a stab at any other bothersome ailments (migraines, diabetes, hypertension, varicose vein pain) you might dip your toes into a RAW dish regiment and see what miracles you can find.<br />I'd love to hear more stories of RAW miracles if you have them. And don't forget to abandon those razors, while you're at it.Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-62257499317202482052010-07-03T09:20:00.000-07:002010-07-07T10:48:37.790-07:00RAW Favorites<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ6jJBmk2fAm6sVbhv4t_LRixLFRrEVoz_GYygT9tHixasp0WQnzsvIjBQOdd9pJYaBKjP3lfE32_OuevUndXGF7_wjXcueZhcd2xzhR3Av-RDm-1_Hg7k5n2sU1oUQF7Yfb2FILg_S5UY/s1600/rawpantryfridge.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 143px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491221501525557266" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ6jJBmk2fAm6sVbhv4t_LRixLFRrEVoz_GYygT9tHixasp0WQnzsvIjBQOdd9pJYaBKjP3lfE32_OuevUndXGF7_wjXcueZhcd2xzhR3Av-RDm-1_Hg7k5n2sU1oUQF7Yfb2FILg_S5UY/s320/rawpantryfridge.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAO5NeKcE-ZRc0h8o1EMxuY1LiYhExyCkLquRI0J1xK71VxhnCGBsP_2g2a6vpeP1_-cRC6jPR8Y9FcEicg2sMDcyX0kGg8G0fOBZ6czp5ulEfPSkrDWbB-3v25O7QrClq6Goce-fI8c11/s1600/muesli.jpg"></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFOdxDzQeWYbLQLjrpZZGietrDbdRhh8_ro0si1qka_9X53mutS25IH9R5tEhLGgC-yG88HQFF2w0OoWZnUhlZFKoZpwgjaP6jSY9QxTEk5027AvB9e1hpLE06NkFgCP9KsJZIklCj6sU3/s1600/rawpantryfridge.jpg"></a><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>As I mentioned before, I am attempting a semi raw regiment. We won't call it a diet because that is not the goal. Although I will say my husband's enthusiasm for this veggie infused eating stems from a desire to trim down and after a week, he's already seeing results.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>From what I can gather, raw claims to be the best digestive processing for your body. Fastest absorption, most concentrated nutrients and minerals, yadah yadah. The part that intrigued me, was the claim to solve various bodily ailments: migraines, diabetes, severe menstrual cycle symptoms. </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>It was the last subject that caught my eye. Every time I emerge from the fog of pregnancy, and instantly win back my periods (Oh great), the monthly symptoms seem to compound and strengthen their miserable qualities. After my first child it was nausea and then severe exhaustion for 2-3 days every month. Oh, AND headaches accompanied by the joy of lower back pain! After baby number two, and the varicose veins that came with her, I have one or two days a month where my legs throb so bad I can hardly stand up.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>So I'm trying a month of raw in hopes of experiencing some positive results at the end of the cycle, if you get my drift.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>The upside of going raw in July is the abundance of seasonal fruits and veggies this time of year. Farmer's Market has always been such a treat for me each week but now I'm more determined to try a greater variety of items. Like black kale, green plums, pluots, dates, beet root, radish and sunflower sprouts, and fragrant ripe melons. I've eaten my weight in salads this week alone.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>The mainstays of a raw kitchen appear to be a knife, a cutting board, a mixer/blender and the occasional food chopper. Cleanup is a cinch-no grimy pots and pans, no greasy cookie sheets. </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>What do we eat?? Well, let me first say that I am not subjecting my children to this craziness. And, as mentioned before, I'm not going extreme. John and I have agreed to include, on occasion, eggs, yogurt, the occasional splash of milk in our coffee, some whole grains (barley, rice, couscous) and meat or fish a few nights a week. Dessert could not be cut out so I got my hands on Coconut Bliss, chocolate flavored, which is quite possibly some of the best ice cream (well, non-dairy, gluten-free, etc) I've ever had! </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>If nothing else, so far, RAW has spilled over to my everyday habits as sole provider of snacks and meals for my kids and myself. I consider myself a fairly healthy eater and pride myself on stocking a balanced pantry with plenty of fruits and veggies and whole grains. But convenience trumped healthy more and more often and my habits were falling into that Costco bag of goldfish and wheat thins, fruit snacks, juice boxes and pretzels. Only a few weeks ago I introduced my almost 3 year old to her first bag of McDonald's Happy Meal! God bless the drive thrus. See my problem? </div><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 236px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491221124567092034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWFL9u56usnpHF0y6JoAsGUtDZXIpr7BDUWZ6auSo8y1KHJnZLXXIi4638usFPXJAHYKaezzOAFAazf5XXTdDdkaoU1BCBiviRdHhVJqPQvZf9wN2CWC1I2KT5pnpjvHiQQZElsnCNqTnY/s320/muesli.jpg" /><br /><br /><div>Since returning from our road trip, hitting "processed food bottom" and directing my energy at raw foods, snack have appeared as sliced apples with peanut butter or watermelon and strawberries. Breakfast is a nut and fruit muesli (pictured above), <a href="http://www.rawfoodsdiet.wetpaint.com/page/Muesli+Recipe">www.rawfoodsdiet.wetpaint.com/page/Muesli+Recipe</a> , or a fresh fruit smoothie. I am including yogurt and eggs (both organic, if possible) occasionally throughout the week. Lunch is fruit and a salad usually leftover from last night's dinner and then sometimes the crusts of my kids' sandwiches. Dinner is usually two different salads (one veggie based one fruit based) and then some sort of whole grain to share with the kids, like germinated brown rice or organic couscous. </div>I have a renewed enthusiasm in the kitchen as everything is a new, exciting and almost idiot proof meal. How do you screw up chopping and whisking? The trick is to use farm fresh produce that's in season.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>Here are some websites I've used and a few recipes I've really enjoyed. </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><a href="http://www.rawfoodnation.org/">http://www.rawfoodnation.org/</a> I really like the summer salad series here, good suggestions and pretty quick and easy recipes for a 15 minute or less food prep to dinner time! Summer Salad Series: Spinach Powerhouse was enjoyed by our whole family (kids included). The Raw Beets Series with jicama and oranges should have been glorious but fell flat when I realized after a few bites my jicama was a bit old and soft</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>****************************On a sidenote, I can't recall which website I visited the other day that advertised a "Raw Singles" section....ew?!</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://www.goneraw.com/">http://www.goneraw.com/</a> These recipes tend to be a bit more complicated (soaking, sprouting and even dehydrating), I found one that doesn't look too intimidating to try for dinner tonight, the Kalach Salad (Kale and Spinach with avocado mash dressing). Good pics, too.</p><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://www.living-foods.com/recipes/">www.living-foods.com/recipes/</a> I like the way this site has a multitude of recipes organized by category (soups and salads, entrees, etc.) and it mixes raw foods with other vegan and vegetarian recipes. No extremism, just healthy food suggestions.</p><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://www.rawsacramento.net/">http://www.rawsacramento.net/</a> where I found a pretty awesome salad dressing, Joshua's Amazing Dressing. This is a great site for recipes, resources, links, and some rpetty pictures.</p><br /><br /><br /><br /><p>I am also intrigued by <a href="http://www.welikeitraw.com/">http://www.welikeitraw.com/</a> a blog and recipe list about raw food. This is where I first met (virtually speaking, of course) Ani Phyo, raw food chef extraordinaire. </p><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>My absolute favorite recipe for breakfast is this apple</div></div></div></div>Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-34324320056304035522010-06-27T21:50:00.000-07:002010-06-27T23:00:20.188-07:00Road Trip=RAWMy baby graduated from kindergarten. I enjoyed 5 days of child-less bliss in Mexico with 5 <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">like minded</span> girlfriends. And after 10 days in a Rental RV barreling up the coast to Seattle and back with my darling family I've decided to embrace the raw food diet. Call it one too many <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">burgerrific</span> meals wrapped in greasy paper, the Licorice that broke the driver's colon, call it what you will but my digestive tract can't take another over processed mouthful. I need a change, I need cleansing, I need <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Shuma</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Noya</span>?! <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Flaxseed</span> oil?! Coconut Bliss?!<br />I choked down an In n Out meal on the last painful leg of our 2000 mile journey yesterday and woke up this morning with veggies on the brain, a squishy middle and a rotting inside.<br />Wait, let me recap, in the bittiest of detail (well, bitty for this detail obessessed weirdo), my fantastic journey across the Northwest. Let me first say this: #1. John and I have never ventured farther North than the greater <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">Napa valley</span> for pleasure purposes. So our curiosity was the first incentive. And an invitation from a wonderful cousin and her awesome family to come to Seattle was all we needed to make it an official destination. #2. Why not fly? At age 3, Ana makes it four full priced airline tickets for our family. Ugh. My other options are?? #4. Our girls were getting dangerously close to morphing into anti-wilderness princess freaks ("<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">eew</span>, dirt! daddy hand me my nail file!") and we knew we needed to break them quick.<br />After months of planning, and packing (now you know where I've been...at Target spending my daughter's inheritence), and mapping we finally set off on our 10 day adventure (now that's an understatement). We bombed up on a Thursday, picked the RV up in Oakland, dropped our car at a friend's/had dinner, and made it to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">Redding</span> by 1:00 am. Friday was one of my more <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">successfully</span> planned days: stopped in the quaint town of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">Ashland</span>, Oregon and explored <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">Lithia</span> Park, the Shakespearean Theater and garb, and surrounding city all by foot. Further north that same day, we stopped at the quirkiest theme park outside of Salem, Oregon called The Enchanted Forest. Strange, dusty, and rather entertaining for what it's worth.<br />The following morning we headed through Portland to Voodoo Doughnuts-amazing Bacon Maple Bars!!! Holy sugar! And then to Seattle for family fun, a trip to the cute zoo, and parent's night out to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">Tilth</span> for dinner and Molly Moon's...can I just say this is the greatest <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">ice cream</span> known to man? We waited in line at 9 pm for nearly half an hour: carrot cake <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">ice cream</span>, honey lavender <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">ice cream</span>, Scout Chip, Espresso Bean <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-error">icecream</span>...you get the idea!<br />Monday was a sad departure from our family in Seattle but many miles awaited us and 4 hours south we were camped at the base of Mount Hood-a pristine backdrop-literally on the heavily wooded shore of Lake Trillium. Definitely an amazing family stop! Salamanders in the lake! Tuesday we drove 2 hours south to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" class="blsp-spelling-error">Tumalo</span>, Oregon near Bend. More snow capped mountain views and dry dessert campground on the river. We pumped up our <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">inter tubes</span> and hiked up through the day use area about a mile, jumped in and floated and giggled all the way down the river right to our campsite! Wednesday was a long drive across to the Grants Pass area of Indian Mary on the banks of the Rogue River. Hot weather, cool roaring river and plenty of grassy shaded area to run and roam. I tried my first <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Frisbee</span> golf course and grilled <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_19" class="blsp-spelling-error">quesadillas</span> over the campfire! We even rode this gigantic blue aluminum jet boat up the Rogue River through <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_20" class="blsp-spelling-error">Hellgate</span> Canyon! Very entertaining and a perfect excursion for our girls (at 50+ mph). Sad to leave to the beauty and oddities of Oregon, we headed across the border back to California and were pleasantly thrilled by our drippy rain forest-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_21" class="blsp-spelling-error">ish</span> surroundings at Patrick's Point on the north western California State beach. Dense ferns and sky scraping redwoods gave way to cliff hanging views of the California coastline. And BANANA SLUGS!! And bunnies, and elk and electric blue <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_22" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">blue jays</span>, and the occasional rat...yep. Agate beach awaited us below our ocean view campsite where a waterfall met the sand and rock hunting captivated my entire family for hours. We then took our gigantic 24 foot <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_23" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">motor home</span> on the most hair tingling drive toward Fort Bragg and Caspar Beach along Highway 1. Wow, your <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_24" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Cal trans</span> dollars are not hard at work on that stretch of highway. Sheer cliffs, hairpin turns and the narrowest potholed highway I've ever experienced kept John and I clutching the dash, steering wheel, and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_25" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">each other</span> as we dropped down into the Mendocino County of rugged beauty and even more weirdness than we found in Oregon. Caspar Beach was a disappointment, especially the dirt parking lot of an RV park. We literally wedged our <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_26" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">motor home</span> into our space, inched open the door and stepped out onto our 3X7 foot sliver of dirt where a rusted out wheel rim stood in place of the fire pit. This called for a Keystone and a cigarette. No bones about it. Or teeth for that matter, apparently they're optional at Caspar Beach.<br />By the way, Mendocino County and my house are definitely not in the same state...they can't be-we drove 9 hours yesterday to get home!!!! We didn't even cover half of California in that stretch.<br />Conclusions: if you're going to rent an RV, know that <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_27" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Cruise America</span> is probably your cheapest bet. Warning: you get what you pay for. So if you go that route, bring earplugs (the rattling kitchen sink gets really old on an 11 hour road trip) and don't expect the staff to have much personality or sympathy (they can't make much $$ there, so who can blame 'em). Both John and I said we'd do it all over again (with a few adjustments) in a heartbeat. Bring disposable clothes, my campfire laundry is eating me alive!!!!! RV camping is exactly that, it's camping...in an RV...not going out to fancy dinners and stopping in for a bite to eat at that great bistro for lunch (unless you have an amazing cousin in Seattle with an equally amazing babysitter). You're dusty and dirty, your crap is rolling and rattling around in a giant tin can on wheels that you can't park anywhere, and even if you could find something in your luggage that doesn't stink like campfire, the water tank doesn't hold enough shower to clean your entire family up for a presentable appearance. You're camping. You're experiencing the wilderness, you're roasting marshmallows and sitting under the stars and exploring trails and touching giant yellow slugs. <br />It was dirty. It was quality time together as a family, alone. It was loud and smokey and sandy. It was hilarious. And frustrating. It was sugary sweet and greasy. It was charred black. It was heavenly and stunning and wonderful. It was gas guzzling. It was <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_28" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">icy</span> cold and sticky hot. It was Paul Bunyan in the parking lot. It was bed head and hot chocolate mustaches. It was bunnies on the path and deer in the park. It was a potty on wheels. It was rock hunting and baseball. It was piping hot coffee and the perfect <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_29" class="blsp-spelling-error">s'more</span>. Flying wine bottles. Dumping the pooper. It was the art box, lollipops, and duct tape. It was a picture journal written by a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_30" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">kindergartner</span>. It was Hey There Sister, I don't wanna miss you (sung by my 2 year old) times 134. <br />It was amazing. I want to do it again tomorrow.<br /><br />PS I got so caught up in recapping my vacation I'll have to fill you in on the raw foods craziness next time. Glad to be back and keep those comments coming, it helps me to know <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_31" class="blsp-spelling-error">someone's</span> still out there listening:)Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-11742366867872468552010-05-04T08:12:00.000-07:002010-05-04T09:13:56.191-07:00Single Parenting SucksOn several occasions over the past few weeks, I have fired up my laptop and readied myself for a blog blast. But sleep overtook me, or the puppy had peed on the floor (again), or the girls were STILL not asleep, and so forth.<br />After a very long stint as a single parent, I got my husband back from his surf trip, and coincidentally, a glimmer of sanity and some calming of the general chaos has commenced. And thankfully, here I sit, allowing myself a few moments of relfection. Although he appears to be (still) jet lagged, his sluggish presence in our household has brought joy and order to an otherwise jumbling mess of disorder. <br />Two concrete topics came to mind in his absence, the complications of single parenting and....ahem, dating. I suppose I should save the explanation for that last one for the end:)<br />From the moment my wonderful, helpful, amazing hubby hit the road, the girls (and the puppy) and I hit the ground running. I had packed the upcoming loneliness with a multitude of distractions in the form of Kid Concerts, playdates, and movie theater plans. The first weekend passed with the help of a babysitter, a fellow surf widow sleepover (kids and all), beach trips and bike rides. By the time we reached day #7, I had a wicked cold, a new understanding of dilerium, and for whatever reason, an affinity for folding clean laundry (WTF?). Whoever this insane spirit was, that had overtaken my body, she wasn't allowing me to sleep much and she had an undaunting eye for perfection. How many more times can I straighten pillows and pack up Barbie crap? I traded meal preparation for laundry and cleaning. Our dinners went like this: pizza, mac n cheese, take out, mac n cheese, take out, take out leftovers, Taco Temple, pizza, cereal (things were going downhill fast), sushi.<br />Single parenting can be really great the first day or two, when you can focus on your children and nothing else. The novelty of "date night" with your kids can be really great if the agenda is set. We headed into SLO for a kids' p.j. party and concert by local singer/musician, Ginger Hendrix. I knew little of her music and by the end, found myself the proud owner of one of her awesome CDs. Here's her link: <a href="http://www.bustrtpumpkinhead.blogspot.com/">http://www.bustrtpumpkinhead.blogspot.com</a> <br />The theme song from her CD, which my girls and I sang the rest of our week, went something like, "just give me Macaroni n Cheese, that creamy cheesey treat"....ironic that we ate this delightful and easy meal at least once a day while daddy was gone. When followed by strawberry icecream, I'm sure we had all areas of the food pyramid covered.<br />Back to my point, seven days into this and I was plum pooped. A few quotes from the entire 11 day single stint included..."Where is the <em>other</em> leather shoe?"..."Just don't break your necks while base jumping off that bookshelf"..."Mommy's sick girls, can you keep the noise down and get me some gatorade?"..."Ana, I love all those marker tattooes you drew on your body, go make some more!"...."Where did you find this chewed up box of D-Con???"(that was the day I hauled the vaccum cleaner out to the back lawn to suck up all the poison pellets our dog had spilled, but thankfully not ingested)..."Showers and shaved legs are overrated"(pretty sure I shared this with Shelby's kinder teacher....I claim delirium on that one).<br />And now for the topic of dating. Not someone else, but my own husband. Three days before his scheduled return, I found myself primping and plotting the homecoming. I drafted a grocery list a whole week ahead in preparation for his return, special foods he liked, extra beer, plenty of his fav fruits and cheeses, this list did not include mac n cheese. I broke out the weedwhacker for my furry stumps...one must go at this task in phases when one has not ventured into the back country for over a whole week. I was bleaching my teeth, making a hair appointment, and painting my toenails. I found a bottle of self tanner in the far reaches of my bathroom. I even had my outfit picked out days in advance.<br />It occurred to me that these were all the very foreign rituals of dating. Planning out the events, the outfit, the food, shaving and plucking and primping. I hadn't done this much self prepping since college.<br />Thank god he's back, and I'm no longer divulging in the intracacies of single parenting. The dating world can keep their primping, I haven't time for it with all this chaos in my house. <br />Final quote, "Ana, that hot pink nail polish goes so well on the white carpet in my closet...."Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-67468001503039230112010-04-20T09:31:00.000-07:002010-04-20T10:17:07.247-07:00Half EmptyPessimism has served me well this week. I'm facing disaster head on. There's no smoke and mirrors this time. It's all too real: No TV Week, rainy day schedule, and daddy off to a tropical isle for a man surf trip. I'm thinking about drowning myself in that half empty glass right now.<br />Five days of NO TV this week (I am getting more realistic already, the 7 day week whittled down to 5). Shelby's school has offered families the opportunity to turn off their TVs for one week to promote healthy family time. The enthusiasm for this activity came home sounding like this, "We can do game night and popcorn! We can go for a bike ride and play bolleyball outside!" while jumping up and down and clapping her dimpled kinder hands, and "We can do art projects and playdough!"<br />The guilt arrived in her backpack on a yellow flier with factual information and the slogan "TV-Turnoff Week: Dare to be free-Don't watch TV!" The flier was peppered with facts like: "The average family spends 4-5 hours every day watching TV but only 35 minutes having a meaningful conversation." And "Studies show that watching 10 or more hours of television a week negatively impacts creativity, problem solving, and reading levels." And the kicker, "The average child spends 900 hours per year in school-yet over 1,023 hours per year in front of a television."<br />While our family doesn't necessarily fit the average American standard, we are certainly nowhere near perfect. We operate our television for movie purposes only, we do not have cable or local television programming. No commercials, no channel surfing. On average, my children watch anywhere from 1 hour to 4 hours of movies every day. Let's see, extrapolated that means my kids spend 913 hours a year in front of the television, not the average 1,023. Hmph. Not much satisfaction there. <br />Then there is this fact, "In an average four hours of Saturday morning cartoons your child will view 200 advertisements for junk foods and candy." Not to mention the violence shown on television. I've got that one beat by a mile.<br />Back to the meaningful conversations, do we have 35 minutes of meaningful conversations every day? An interesting thought. I'm quite sure I do not have 35 minutes of meaningful conversation with my kindergartner. She is at school for most of her day and when she arrives at home we discuss her day for a few minutes, she jumps rope or draws and we do homework together. Then she's parked in front of that TV or at a gymnastics class or something until dinner time. The dinner table is more often than not a quiet place for conversation as a family, until interrupted by shrieking from the youngest member over yukky potatoes or too crispy chicken. <br />As for my toddler, I am pretty sure Ana talks AT me for at least 3 hours a day, is that meaningful conversation?<br />In conclusion, John and I eliminated regular programmed television from our lives more than 6 years ago and it has served us well. We spend an average of 4 hours each week in front of the TV (that's 208 hours each year). After we get the dishes cleaned and the kids to bed, we don't have time or energy to watch any movies on TV. And I'm fairly confident we get in 35 minutes of meaningful conversation with each other each day. But don't you dare ask me how much time we spend in front of our computers! <br />I think permanently eliminating movies on television for our children would be extremely ambitious. They certainly explore their toy boxes more often when the TV is off. They also argue more, not to mention the tornado they invite to the house. How could I get the dishes done, the laundry folded, the bills paid? Would that mean my kids would actually talk to me while I perform my chores? Hm, that may not be so bad. Meaningful conversation....<br />We are two days into NO TV Week and so far, Shelby has enthusiastically embraced her school's promotion. Our first evening was spent outside, sharing a meal, playing 'bolleyball', dancing, singing, and doing art. Bedtime came a little sooner since we didn't make time for a movie (sweet). And the girls were ready for stories and sleep after all that extra physical activity. This morning's routine went smoothly without the distraction of movies on TV. The girls even played trucks and trains together before the carpool. <br />Without smoke and mirrors, I'm facing reality with my eyes wide open. Which is exactly why I have justified NO TV Week for my <em>entire family</em>. But when Shelby is gone at school, and John at work or on vacation, that hardly counts for an entire family. Ana is too young to keep secrets, but old enough to quietly enjoy the movies she's been watching each morning this week while I am writing this blog and folding laundry. <br />Realism trumps pessimism every time.Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-58415195647385538472010-04-15T06:33:00.000-07:002010-04-15T14:54:55.682-07:00A Long Day"Your agenda seemed pretty ambitious," said my friend H as I dragged my brood through her front door. Barely over the threshold when Piper piddled in excitement all over the rug.<br />When we adopted this little bundle of trouble, I mean LOVE, the agreement was that I keep the kids all day and John would take the dog. Well, for various reasons explained to me each morning, this little piddle puppy has remained underfoot every day for the last 3 weeks. And I have 4 more weeks of the same to look forward to.<br />On a separate topic, I've taken on my usual birthday stress as John's "special day" has finally arrived this week. And with that comes the constructing of a cake, gathering of presents, card and arrangements and general sentiment over the acknowledgement of his birthday. The mental build up for this is enough to bunch my panties. Don'tmisunderstand me here, there is so much personal revelry in birthdays, for example I really enjoy the part where I am the thoughtful and caring wife, where we present a gift that represents the time and effort invested to procur, when our girls hand daddy their homemade cards, lovingly coached into completion by their barking mother. I love all that birthday hodge-podge. But like I said, the build up...<br />Today was the day where I exchanged the gift I got him for another one with the proper accessories.<br />But before my dreaded visit to Best Buy, I had a carefully alligned set of appointments that maximized my efficiency as mother, housekeeper, auto owner, birthday gift giver, pet lover and planner. I had to drop my car off at the mechanic, and take the dog to the vet for her shots.<br />The car problem deserves some explanation, which is this: During spring break, on a trip up to Sierra Summit, the passenger window on my car began acting up. The night before our snow day, the darned thing rolled down and refused to roll back up. I could only imagine the next scene: the blizzard of wind whipping through the vehicle as we climbed to colder temps, icicles hanging from the girl's lips as we barreled up the mountain in the wee hours of the morning, Ana (who sat on the passenger side and hated all things snow) shaking her wind whipped face free of ice and snow, tears streaming and subsequently freezing down her cheeks, her ice encrusted lips forming the words, "But I don' wanna go t'the snow!"<br />Okay, enough already, I got the window to roll up finally and then pushed the window lock button. Despite our windless drive to the snow, Ana still managed to announce every five minutes for two hours, "But I don wanna go to the snow!"<br />Fast forward to the part where I pull up at the local mechanic's garage for a fix it appointment. AND, realizing I had an hour or two to wait, I had made an appointment at the vet's office-right next door. It wasn't even 9 am and I was feeling accomplished, already carless and walking the puppy on her leash (whoa! don't bite the leash, piper! don't eat that dog poop!) while holding Ana's hand (stop pinching! don't jump off that curb! watch out for cars! watch out for the dog poop! aughh! scrape it off like this...). It was the longest 100 yard walk ever. The vet's office was quiet and calm and unfamiliar as we had never been before.<br />"Can I help you with something?" asked a tall brunette in paw printed scrubs. The look on her face blared 'which space ship beamed you down here?'<br />I self consciously reached up to my hair, it must have sprouted horns and snakes by the look on her face.<br />I announced our appointment time, 8:45 for Piper's shots. She shook her head, "I don't have a vet here today, ma'm. You must have made an appointment at the other vet's office." (was that a sneer on her face?)<br />Turns out, there are two veterinarians in town, who are located on opposite ends of the SAME very long street. So far apart, in fact, the vet who was expecting me was located nearly 6 miles from where I stood right now.<br />I gave a good long look at the sky, yep, there it was:a menacing black cloud right above me, a few bolts of lightning headed my way. It's not even 9 in the morning, my sense of accomplishment just exploded and the shrapnel is stinging my eyes, and I'm beginning to hyperventilate.<br />The other vet's office kindly rearranged our appointment for later that afternoon, right after we ran the carpool and smack in the middle of Ana's nap time. Great, the ideal recipe for disaster, I decided. A few moments of further panic revealed I was truly stranded for the next hour or two. No grocery store, no library, not with a dog on a leash in tow.<br />I dialed the local bus, "I need help," I pleaded with the operator. I explained how I was stranded at a greasy garage, carless and strapped with a puppy in need of a vet visit WITH a toddler (who was currently screaming her head off while lying on the smudged linoleum of the mechanic's waiting closet, circa 1968).<br />"Your dog must be in a container, ma'm." I rolled my eyes and repeated my strandedness. The woman offered some solutions, "How big is your purse, can you fit her in it? Do you have a diaper bag? A backpack?"<br />I stared down at my 30 lb puppy. No way.<br />I hung up the phone and stared at the clock. 9:02 OMG I have been catapulted into hell and it has wood paneling, broken office chairs and a collection of grubby Mr. Potato Heads.<br />10:27 the mechanic shares his discoveries. The problem is linked to a computer that they are not authorized to fix. I must make a trip to my car's dealership (3 hours away), and then they slapped me with a $103 bill for the labor. Yeah, slapped me.<br />Tears welled up in my eyes. I HAVE TO PAY FOR 97 MINUTES OF SHEER HELL? I HAVE TO PAY $103 FOR THIS??!!!!! The words bounced inside my head but all that came out was a weak, "Okay" as I handed them my credit card. I could feel my face burning with anger.<br />We loaded up in the car, I practiced my deep breathing, and we resumed our schedule, which was to correct the damaged birthday gift I had unknowingly purchased for John. I spent the drive dividing the mechanic's head into severed chunks with the sharp side of my Mastercard. I pulled up to Best Buy with Ana screaming in the back seat, she had just begun her pre-nap tantrum exercises. The clock was ticking. Did I mention I still had the dog? Who I had to leave in the car? Talk about forcing myself into hypertension.<br />I explained to the clerk at the counter how I had purchased this widget last week and when I got home I noticed that it was missing one of the accessories. He grabbed a new widget box and rang me up. Last week the widget was on sale for $179 and I had attempted a price matching discount unsuccessfully-the widget was on amazon for $149 but note: Best Buy considers Amazon too competitive to use for price matching, so don't try to use Amazon there. So, the returns clerk rings me up for the new widget and says, "Alright ma'm, that will be $199 today."<br />WTF? And what's with the MA'M today???<br />Again, tears well up, my face reddens, deep breathing. And then I muster up my best adolescent voice and argue, "But that's not fair!!!" with extra whine in my voice.<br />After another 20 minutes of waiting, spent attempting to reason with an over exhausted 2 year old who is laying on the floor (again) rolling under the DVD display box. Just about the time I'm about to fling myself onto the floor and cry, kick and scream, boy clerk arrives with the correct price from last week's sale, $179. My heart is racing, temples bulging, tears stinging.<br />The rest goes as expected, after carpool and arriving at the vet's office, which is teeming with every dog and pet owner imaginable, we wait over half a hour for the vet who is terrified of our chaos. He talks fast and louder over the kids. Ana's crying the entire time, the dog keeps trying to bite "the white coat man" which he says is truly a bad habit. He can't hand over stickers of distraction fast enough to my whining daughters and finally, before backing out of the waiting room door, he suggests we get ourselves a trainer to help with our "little monster".<br />Somebody kick me, I am definitely down.Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-64293387989800372152010-04-11T07:24:00.000-07:002010-04-11T08:34:06.908-07:00Its Been So Long....I've had entirely too much time to perform random acts of stupidity without writing and reflecting on it with you.<br />Life with three (two kids and one puppy) is just as much of a challenge as I feared. I haven't been faithful to you, oh bloggin world, and I am ever so sorry for leaving you (again) high and dry.<br />Which brings me to recap, in a nutshell, of all my chaotic thoughts and blunders as of late:<br />#1. Avoiding my car, as in not driving it, has done incredible things for my sense of calm. Try it sometime, a whole day without driving...ride your bike, walk to the grocery store, do without that orange juice for a day. Your blood pressure will drop, too.<br />#2. Kicking myself for unintentionally insulting people. I truly have a gift for opening my mouth, inserting my foot, and then obsessing over it lately.<br />#3. As I mentioned above, I am a faux MOT(mother of three) these days which deems me "one of you", not "one of them". And yet, in character, I managed to put my dear friend, Maureen on the defensive last weekend at an Easter Egg Hunt of all places. How many feet can one fit in one's mouth? Maureen, I dedicate my public humiliation to you along with my public apology. Can't tell you how many nights I laid in bed worrying about hurting your feelings. You're an amazing MOT whom I adore and admire. XOXO, G<br />#4. I've been running a lot more lately, which has done wonders for my happiness. I finally feel like myself again, an athletic prowess if you will. A "Can Do Attitude" that I missed for a bit after that second child arrived.<br />#5. I insulted my dentist. Yep, the WORST person to insult when your splayed in a chair with the good doctor's fists in your mouth. It went something like this: Dentist: Your hair looks adorable! Idiot: Thanks, I haven't been to the hair dresser in ages! And I just accidentally dyed my roots orange. (no, that's not the actual insult, although rebuffing her compliment was classy, wasn't it? I'm sorry, you have terrible taste in hair....) Dentist (age 45, silver and blond shoulder length hair): I never see my hair dresser regularly either. It's the blond, we can get away with letting it grow out longer. It seems to hide everything well. Idiot: Blond, orange, whatever, at least I don't have any grey yet!<br />...at least I don't have any grey yet? Did I have a death wish? I was staring up at a woman who clearly has plenty of grey! And my point was? Please just put me out of my misery and cut out my tongue while you're drilling my teeth out, doc.<br />#6. Is there a self help book about conversational etiquette? Somebody, please, throw me a title.<br />#7. I've managed to run off three babysitters since the school year began. They all keep moving away or getting "real jobs", at least that's the reason they gave me. After years of obsessing over introducing someone new to my fragile little family circle, I've managed to bombard my children with a new stranger every month. Guilt, guilt, guilt....<br />And my final thought for the day,<br />#8. Blasts from the past can be downright frightening. I was at a bar last night. Yeah, you heard me, "my neighborhood bar" (that sounds pretty cool, doesn't it?), and John and I were there (after bedtime routine, of course) to initiate our first Neighborhood Night at the local bar in our area. There was quite an eclectic group of friends and neighbors all standing around this rough biker bar looking out of place. I, on the other hand, felt quite out of place but did a darned good job of dressing the part...black boots, black riding pants, shear black T with a simple gun metal neck chain, heavy eye liner and a black motorcycle jacket. Biker Chic all the way. When I had a drink in my hand I mingled. There was the conversation with my girl neighbors where someone else opened her mouth and insulted the rest of us about how short hair (which we all have except for her) was a sign of old age. Birds of a feather, huh? At least I know I've picked the right neighbors. Then, there was a bidet incident but I'll save that one for another time. Back to my point about my past, I grew up in a valley town a few hours east of where I currently reside. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I wasn't popular, I had the same boyfriend all four years, high school was not a rip roaring wildly fun time for me. I was there to get good grades so I could get the hell out of town and off to college to find myself. I spent so much of my high school years obsessing over how great college was going to be, I forgot to realize that I could enjoy high school. You might say I resented high school as a pimply-faced hurdle before college. There was a guy from my high school who had been quite serious with one of my best friends, we'll call him E, and last year E bought the house around the corner from us and moved in with his new wife. Kinda weird at first but I got over it, convinced by the fact that I really knew this guy, where he grew up, his background. I mean, it was actually comforting to know that I had another reliable, normal person in my neighborhood. He wasn't an axe murderer, I just hate when you get those neighbors moving in. So I warm up to the idea and one day John and I drive by to congratulate E and wife on their new house and they are chatting with a stranger in the yard, who turns and waves at me. Huh? Stranger=Ex boyfriend who I finally shook after 4 years of high school and 2 years of college, at which point I met my husband to be. O....K......um, hi....? You're here in E's yard one block from my life??<br />Well, back to the bar, I step outside to visit with E's wife last night and OMG, Mr. Ex is sitting at her table. Awkward greeting. It threw me off for the night for the simple fact that he is still single. Never married. And for me, that means he never moved on. Ugh. So it's weird the whole time and he plays pool with John (who handles this all like the rock star that he is) and I finally sidle up to John who agrees it's our last call. So I head to the bar to order a last round of beers and I'm lost in thought over how weird this is that I'm hanging out in a bar with people from my awkward past and my wonderful present life. When suddenly a man yells my name. HUH? Oh yeah, it's Nick Childers, the soccer star from high school who happens to be at this tiny dive bar with his buddy, Dillon Clives, the football star from our high school. Should I stop now? That's the part when the floor opens up and I fall down a dark tunnel while clicking my heels and shouting, "Somebody get me out of here!" Then I land smack in the middle of my high school prom wearing the most god awful dress and heels and my daughters are running around the dance floor shouting, where's daddy?<br />OK, who slipped something in my drink?Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-87139546095049179782010-04-03T17:22:00.000-07:002010-04-03T17:38:04.827-07:00The Importance of FamilyFunny how we spring from our nests so ready to buck the weight of parents, fly to new horizons and make our own way. But parents, they know it's just a matter of time before we creep back their way. We fly far, we find our own way, we build a nest to call our own. And then, we call mom to tell her how great our life is and promptly invite her and dad over so they can share our happiness over a glass of red wine.<br />Those impending grandmother's who demanded proper manners, insisted on socks in the house and slathered Vick's in our noses at night. The ones we visited on holidays and spent the whole weekend turning over the wooden horses and antique hot wheels wondering if this was dad's favorite toy when he was my age. We giggle the whole way home about the tuna salad sandwiches served with an extra side of mayonnaise and the stale jelly beans we found in a candy jar on the mantel. How grandma farted in the kitchen.<br />The fondness has set in and before they're gone-or I'm gone, I'm spending time with them. I'm sending cards and making visits. I'm calling mom and dad to invite them over for that glass of wine more often, no matter how we clashed over the latest political debacle. I'm appreciating that this is my family. That these are the stories that made me who I am and I'm proud of that. I want my daughters to see it all, to delight in every antique toy, the collections of porcelain clowns and depression glassware, to giggle over all the mayonnaise and tuna sandwiches they can. <br />This is family. This is now.Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-66152895491428998252010-03-21T09:08:00.000-07:002010-03-21T09:59:46.352-07:00Piper: A Puppy's Pace<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLVUZR_HG8v2ETHPHpnm2k6ya27pAzyuP8WRLViG9Ty0GfxccTHwrywz0Z5kEB92unI2aYg9vuMUkbk3xeHc_7LiPZql_K0zoByN-VeGvhXtlZng64GUjWBKZiJ7e8J-ULlbkkMO_rvAuq/s1600-h/P1020544.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451130232679306994" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLVUZR_HG8v2ETHPHpnm2k6ya27pAzyuP8WRLViG9Ty0GfxccTHwrywz0Z5kEB92unI2aYg9vuMUkbk3xeHc_7LiPZql_K0zoByN-VeGvhXtlZng64GUjWBKZiJ7e8J-ULlbkkMO_rvAuq/s320/P1020544.JPG" /></a> <br /><div><div>Her name is Piper. She has breathed new life into our household. Piddling on the rug- chewing leather flip flops-mauling the ferns-pooping in the kitchen-new life into our home. My daughters are infused with perpetual excitement. They're excited to greet Piper each morning, thrilled to take her out into the yard, every outing is new with Piper as part of our family. </div><br /><br /><div>After three years of living on the beach, even the simple act of walking on the sand has taken on a new level of enjoyment since Piper arrived. </div><br /><br /><div>Here is her story:</div><br /><br /><div>She is a rescue puppy out of Bakersfield. She is the product of a yellow Labrador and a golden retriever who gave birth to an accidental litter on January 14th and whose owner had the good sense to donate all 4 puppies to a rescue center for adoption. I found her through <a href="http://www.petmatchmaker.com/">http://www.petmatchmaker.com/</a>, a site I was at first skeptical and at last, in complete awe of and full of appreciation.</div><br /><br /><div>These amazing VOLUNTEERS collect, care for and foster hundreds of dogs from all over the greater Kern County. I had the pleasure of meeting Shelly, the foster parent to Piper and Piper's siblings, last week when I arrived to see this dream dog face-to-face. Shelly was quick to rattle off a long list of puppy care tips, what they eat, when to feed, how to potty train, what to avoid, recommended toys, where to sleep her, etc. etc. all before I had even agreed to take Piper home.</div><br /><div>I had already put in a full day by the time I arrived at this afternoon meeting in Bakersfield, the prospect of deciding on a puppy that was right for my entire family was a daunting task but everyone made it easy, especially Piper. And before I was completely decided that this puppy was right for my family, the volunteers were packing up my paperwork, stuffing food samples into care bags along with chew toys and rawhide bones, there was the staggering exchange of cash (mine handed over to them, which is a tax donation, at least), and then the reality of living with this puppy for the rest of her hopefully long life hovering somewhere over my head...I nearly caused a three car accident just pulling out of the parking lot! My heart was thundering, palms sweaty, eyes blurred, OUCH! puppy chewing on my fingers as I made my way back to the freeway with a yellow fur ball twirling around in the laundry basket on my front seat. Dear God, what have I done?!</div><div>Pea stains and midnight wake ups, chewed shoes and shrieking children. I knitted my brow the first hour home. And again asked, Dear God, what have I done? Then I glanced up at the clouds and had a quiet conversation with Kiley, my first Labrador, my first dog who passed away last November. Is this the right dog? Is this the right time? Is it okay to love another dog? I felt as though I had gotten her approval, and I looked over at Piper and my soul was ready to love this baby dog. I spent the next few hours grinning at a snoring little puff beside me, who eventually found her way into my lap the last few miles of our drive.</div><br /><br /><div>I was excited for Piper to meet our family. By the time we approached our neighborhood I was feeling rather proud of myself for finding the right dog. The girls and I had had many conversations about the delicate act of pairing the right dog with the right family. They were prepared for me to return from this meeting with Piper dogless if she wasn't quite right for our family. I was anxious to see their faces when I pulled up!</div><br /><div>I rounded the turn onto our street in time to see a silhouette of my family heading into the sunset towards the beach, clad in swimsuits and armed with sand toys. They all turned at once and yelled, "Mommy!" Their gallop back toward my car allowed me a few seconds to gather Piper in my arms so she could greet them at the car door. </div><br /><br /><div>The look on their faces said it all. Even John melted just a little bit at the sight of her.</div><br /><br /><div>This week alone she's been to the beach four times, on countless walks, to a birthday party, grandma's house, two playdates with endless little girls, to preschool with Ana, and kinder with Shelby, and to work with daddy.</div><br /><br /><div>This is a well traveled, well loved dog already. I think this picture says it all:</div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451130225088711570" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZt4er3UvSAIRqDImjOU4J0CrWes_69NERyelfi9z2KgXwKdFcBRR__uPeh5-esnxtOQ8QJJTnbPIBTpqhpOLGnx61I_v93vbqyk0Xhx4jQO3Xl5_hBHTgJyow0BGsFo3R2maADqZj62K2/s320/P1020547.JPG" /><br /><div></div></div>Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-8132282102701684172010-03-03T09:10:00.001-08:002010-03-03T09:45:14.752-08:00Match Maker, Match Maker, Make Me a MatchI have been <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">cyberdating</span> for rescue pets lately. Yep, my broken heart over my Kiley dog is finally ready to entertain the idea of finding a new puppy. And trust me, my family has been ready and waiting for me to catch on to the idea of a new dog for quite some time.<br />So I dragged myself to the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Internet</span> pet match making world and filled out my personal form, trying all the while not to over analyze the implication of this act. My conscience was screaming at me, "Get serious, woman, can you imagine what your dilapidated sofa will look like with puppy teeth in it? Say hello to midnight piddles and goodbye landscaping! Are you SURE you are ready to potty train ANOTHER baby? Your youngest is just wearing panties for the first time this month! What are you THINKING???!?!!!?!!?!!!"<br />I plugged my inner ears and continued to fill in the blanks on my pet match maker form: <br />"Female dog lover/ family of four/ loves taking long walks on the dog beach at sunset, prefers active runs to lazy naps, loves water, tolerates poop pick up, and enjoys long soapy baths in the yard...." you get the idea.<br />The form was rather specific, inquiring about the length and height of my fences (I tried not to take this too personally, if you know what I mean). Apparently, size does matter. Asking if any member of our family exhibit behavior problems...<br />The part where they asked if you had ever owned a dog was easy to check "Yes" as I misted over the memory of my 9 year old lab now buried beneath a shady walnut tree in a fruitful vineyard in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Paso</span> Robles. Bless her happy soul. I still really miss her.<br />But then the form asked, What happened to your last pet: A. Died of natural causes B. Hit by a car C. Gave up for adoption D. Died of illness<br />Oh gosh. The mere act of highlighting option 'B' was painful. HIT BY A CAR. Really?<br />Really. (It was an accident, Kiley slipped, she didn't mean to fall under the wheel, she was just playing chase...)<br />It took me over an hour to complete the form and then another hour to linger over the SUBMIT button, considering and reconsidering my readiness for pet dating.<br />SUBMIT.<br />I did it. And before I could open a cold beer with which to wash away my sorrows(and that annoying Anti-Puppy Conscience <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">screaming</span> about my white rugs), I heard "You've Got Mail!" blaring from the computer.<br />It was the illustrious pet match maker. She wanted to know more about the death of our dog. And I quote, "was she off leash? Did she jump the fence? Please explain..."<br />Now I felt like the inquisition was knocking. Couldn't she just consult her magic ball? She may have just come out and asked, was it YOUR FAULT that your dog died an untimely death???<br />I took the liberty at this time to write, edit, and rewrite the happy and sad tale of my dear Kiley from her first day in my arms to her last dying breath. It was a LONG nine year life and I took my sweet time describing and reliving every last detail. More misting.<br />The following day I received a sympathy response from her honor, pet match maker lady. She was sorry to learn of Kiley's tragic death and would let me know any progress on our match maker application soon....right after she called our vet's office and checked our references. Wow, this is serious shit; Pet Matching. <br /> We are awaiting news on the possibility of adopting a rescued puppy. If you or anyone you know is interested in entering the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">cyber</span> pet match making world, check out this website for a rescued pet near you:<br /><a href="http://www.petmatchmaker.org/">www.petmatchmaker.org</a><br />I will be sure to keep updated news on any progress we make in the match making world of pets. Stay tuned.Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4889856965736117404.post-70409197243807961272010-02-25T14:18:00.000-08:002010-02-25T14:31:54.556-08:00A Perfect EndingDay three of single parenting while husband working in San Diego.<br />Torrential Rains here.<br />Morning carpool. <br />Late again.<br />Tardy warning.<br />Coffee splashed on floor of car.<br />Volunteer work in kinder class.<br />Paint on my blouse. Paper cut.<br />Race home to get youngest.<br />Race back to pick up oldest.<br />Rainy day schedule=monster children.<br />Tired and cranky monsters to Trader Joe's.<br />World War IV before we get through parking lot.<br />World War VI in frozen food aisle.<br />Checkout disaster. <br />The checker won't offer "3 bells", no bag boy in his right mind will accompany us outside.<br />Disheveled, tired and crankier monsters back through parking lot.<br />More rain.<br />More wind.<br />WW VII.<br />Deep breaths.<br />Call husband to complain.<br />Husband describes surf and golf day followed by wine tasting in sunny San Diego.<br />More deep breaths.<br />Pay visit to sick, ancient grandma.<br />Hospital doors open, my girls begin snotting and hacking. Perfect.<br />Leave hospital.<br />Bickering on the brink of WW VIII.<br />Can't believe we have 2 more days without daddy.<br />Did he say he was eating breakfast at 11 this morning?<br />CRUNCH.<br />Rear end Toyota in front of us.<br />Perfect Ending to the Perfect Day.<br />Deep breathing.Gibseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124375608158703928noreply@blogger.com0