Juggling Life

Home, Sweet Home

On Friday morning Mr. Fix-it, Social Butterfly and I set out for Flagstaff to visit one of SB's college choices--Northern Arizona University.

This would be the same NAU that I suggested she apply to many times over the summer. The same NAU in which she wouldn't ever be interested.  The same NAU that she said about, one day this fall, "Hey, what do you think about me applying to NAU?" In a bizarre turn of events, I thought that was the fine idea.

We spent Friday evening cruising through the town and campus and then Saturday morning got a tour and the inside scoop from the neighbor kid who is a sophomore at NAU. Oy! The dorm room of a quartet of frat boys is something to behold (and smell).

The campus itself was lovely. Brick buildings surrounded by Ponderosa pines and bordered by snow-capped mountains. The college has done a good job of integrating the newer construction with the older buildings. And the new construction? The most amazing recreational center I have ever seen--with an indoor track, rock-climbing wall and rooms for P.E. credit yoga classes. Oh, and the labs are good, too. The "cafeteria" was impressive with lots of healthy choices for those who don't want to eat Chick-Fil-A or Pizza Hut.

SB is thinking she might want to be a nurse, but is not positive, so right now we're thinking of a Public Health major and then she can do a fifth year to get a nursing degree if that proves to be her interest.

Flagstaff is a nine-hour, very easy drive from San Diego; after we had lunch on Saturday--at Brandy's Restaurant and Bakery, a Diners, Drive-ins and Dives pick--we looked at each other and said, "This was great! Let's go home, now!"

So, we went back to the hotel, asked for a late check-out, grabbed our bags and hit the road. I might have felt bad for cancelling the second night except the beds were horrible. As SB said Saturday morning "When a 17-year old wakes up with a sore back you know it's a bad bed."

We were home by 8 p.m. and it was, as it always is, wonderful to be back at home. It's also pretty wonderful to have seen a school that has so many of the things SB wants in a college--her major, a very different environment than Southern California, an outdoor activity-oriented student body and the perfect distance from home (not too close, not too far).

I must admit that the "Arizona" part of the school's name was a little worrisome to our liberal family. Governor Jan Brewer didn't make us feel any better by wagging her finger in our President's face. The school and the surrounding city had enough people in dreadlocks, as well as Democratic Student Club members trying to register voters, to help convince us that, like most college towns, Flagstaff embraces a wide variety of socio-political viewpoints.

I think it's entirely possible that my daughter might become a Lumberjack!

 

 

She's Off the Sauce . . .

. . . the hot sauce, that is.

Social Butterfy has been having some stomach problems and daily bouts of orthostatic hypotension (dizziness, etc. upon standing), so we went into the doctor today. I love, love, love our doctor because she doesn't do alarmed, but she does do concerned and thorough.

SB is not anemic or diabetic, but may be slightly dehydrated (thus the orthostatic hypotension) and is likely having some esophageal reflux issues (the doctor is not saying ulcer, yet).

We're going back in a week and in the meantime SB is forbidden from using her beloved Cholula hot sauce AT ALL. She'd also like her to add some food into her diet that is NOT total roughage since her diet consists entirely of fruits, vegetables, brown rice and legumes--oh, and dairy, lots of milk and yogurt. Except now she can't eat any milk or yogurt unless it is soy.

Also? No exercise for a week. SB asked if she could still walk the dog even if she couldn't go to the gym and the doctor admonished her to keep it to less than a mile-no cheating. SB was totally busted on that one.

She's starting her on Prevacid for the stomach and 80 oz. of water a day for the dehydration.

After listening to all of the above from the doctor we got into the car and I said we'd go to the store for the medication and some soy milk and yogurt. SB wanted me to drop her off at her Pilates class and then go to the store.

Sigh. It's a good thing she's got a mother. Who knows how to say, "NO!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

For Suzy . . .

Suzy was more interested in the pot than the flowers . . . .

 

It's Winter in San Diego . . . and last week's book giveaway winner

A couple of years ago I bought a very large pot at Costco--expensive, but a GREAT deal (that's the story of Costco). Then I brought a camellia bush to put in it (expensive, but a GREAT deal--Costco, again). This is one purchase I will never regret.

No matter how dreary the January day (and we do occasionally  have dreary days, though today is not one), these flowers blooming on my front porch lift my spirits.

The comments on last week's post about the book Between Interruptions were so very interesting. My informal survey of the responses reinforces what I have observed among my peers--those of us that had our children when we were on the youngish side had, in some ways, an easier adjustment to motherhood--likely because we weren't giving as much up as women that are older and therefore more established in their careers and lifestyles. I'm not saying one way is better than the other, this is just my unscientific observation based on anecdotal evidence!

Anyway . . .

The winner is #8:

I have a 3 month old, my first child. I have no perspective at all on this issue. I know she's precious, but that's about it. I wonder how will I will reconcile my life once this short stasis of maternity leave is over.

Posted by: bkd | January 16, 2012 at 01:29 PM

She sounds like the perfect person to read this book! Send me your snail mail, bkd, and I will pass it on to TLC so they can get your book in the mail.

Cute Hair: What does it really mean?

I've been thinking deep thoughts about aging, looks, women and consumerism. Maybe that's what happens when you hit 47 +3/4 years old. Not bad thoughts, just (possibly) profound ones, pondering a variety of related topics. And what's a blog for if you can't share your deep thoughts?! So, consider this the first in a "series."

I really loved reading all the posts attached to Jen's holiday picture challenge and seeing all the women and reading both what they thought about posting their photos and the comments on their posts.

One type of comment I consistently get when I post photos of myself is complimentary in regards to my hair. Now, this is a huge deal for me because I have terrible hair. Thin and fine and mousy brown (dirty blonde when I was a kid) are the kindest things I can say about my god-given hair. (I'm gearing myself up to post a photo of what I would look like if I did NOTHING to my hair--stay tuned.)

Anyway . . .

I actually like my hair, too. When I leave the house in the morning, wearing work clothes and makeup, I feel confident and like I project a professional image.

That confidence comes with a price tag.

The hair cut/color portion of my confidence costs $140 every six weeks (that includes the tip). Gulp. I am sure that some of you will be aghast at the price, while others will find it reasonable. I'm okay with posting the number because just recently my husband became aware of how much I spend on my hair (note, that this number does not include styling products . . . baby steps). For many years he's had a vague idea that my hair stylist wasn't cheap, but he never knew the actual number. Now he does, and we're still married.

There are whole conversations that might be sparked about the fact that I spend so much on my hair--societal pressure around looks, the patriarchal society in which we live, advertising . . . the list goes on.

I will concede that their are outside pressures affecting my need to have cute hair.

However.

I am a pragmatic person and the above pressures are not the battles over which I choose to get my knickers in a twist. If I want to feel confident and have others perceive me in a positive light, especially in the workplace, my hairdressing bill is the price I must pay, so pay it I do.

The connection between the money I spend on my hair (and on my makeup and my teeth and . . . you get the picture) and larger societal issues is that I truly do not believe I would have the job I have, or have gotten the raise I asked for, if I didn't look good(ish).

Really, this is all part of the bootstrap argument I've previously made. Bootstraps come in many forms and those that don't believe that being white and pretty and being able to afford a haircut that makes me feel confident and professional make it easier to accomplish my goals are just not living in the real world.

I am not going to say that cute hair is MORE important than a strong work ethic or intelligence, but I am going to say that it matters.

This post invites conversation on many points (from the important to the ridiculous) and I'd love to hear your thoughts on any or all of them. Am I an idiot for spending so much money on my hair?  Does your significant other know the price tag on your haircut (or clothes or manicures or . . . you get the picture)? ? Do you agree that looks can be an important component in being able to achieve one's goals?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Know your Weaknesses

My simple yet effective solution for the fact that I kept forgetting the flash drive on which every piece of work-work I need resides--I don't put the drive in until I put the sign up. I also copy everything on the flash drive to my home computer every couple of weeks. People laugh at me, but I don't care!

Between Interruptions: A Book Review and Giveaway Post

I was excited to get the opportunity to review this book of essays reflecting upon motherhood, Between Interruptions. The description from the website sum the collection up well.

Most mothers don't have time for long conversations. They may want them, crave them, begin them again and again, but they are constantly interrupted by kids, partners, work and the day-to-day of busy lives. Between Interruptions is a remarkable collection of original essays by Canadian writers that explores what is unspoken, cut off or lost in those interrupted conversations. Between Interruptions asks what becomes of us when our children's lives interrupt our own. What prayers, what cries, what taboo thoughts are suddenly left unspoken? Marina Jimenez struggles with her decision to return to her job as a journalist—in a war zone. Carrie-Anne Moss lets us into her home during her self-imposed, forty-day seclusion after the birth of her first son. Chantal Kreviazuk learns to surrender to the limitations of motherhood. Joanna Streetly struggles to find a balance between protecting and letting go. Elizabeth Renzetti and Karrina Onstad search for friends in mommyland. And Estee Klar-Wolfond finds perfection in autism. Provocative, funny and honest, Between Interruptions highlights the differences and similarities between mothers today and generations past. It is, without a doubt, a conversation worth having.

The essays in this book are very well-written and the lives the authors lead are, by and large, very interesting.

It was actually the very interesting lives of the women in the story that had me feeling a bit disconnected from the book at first. I was hoping to feel the connection with the writers that I often feel with other mothers whose blogs I read. These mothers, by and large, though are of a very different breed than I am and once I started reading the book with a more anthropological eye, I found it fascinating.

What made the essays so absorbing was the variety of ways that these women came to motherhood and the ways they reconciled, or absorbed, motherhood into their lives.

Lisa, at TLC Book Tours, who gave me the book for review has also generously allowed me to give away a copy of this book--I'll choose a winner randomly from the comments on this post; so tell me, for those of you that have children, did you find the adjustment from non-mother to mother easy or difficult?

Jenn's Contribution to Jen's Photo Post (with a twist)

Jen on the Edge challenged her readers to take photos of themselves over the holidays. It is important to note that she did NOT say "take photos of the rest of the family so that you never have to be in any photos yourself because you're not as thin/young/beautiful as you'd like to be."

Out of the trio of the above excuses (not thin/young/beautiful enough) for remaining behind the lens, rather than in front of it, the "not thin" one is my bugaboo. I really don't mind (so far) getting older and I actually think I'm pretty (enough), but I haven't been as thin as I'd prefer to be since I was 107 lbs. for a couple of months in 1984; I wasn't really eating then, which is not a successful long-term weight management technique, so those days are long gone.

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind though, has always been the knowledge that someday I would want photographic evidence that I was part of my own life--which means I do have plenty of pictures of me with my kids and my friends--not quite as many with my husband because somebody has to hold the camera, but enough.

One thing most of the pictures of me have in common is that they're pretty flattering. A well-placed child can hide quite a bit and since I have four . . .! I tend to exercise a lot of editorial control and with the advent of digital, well, there's really no reason for a "bad" photo to exist.

Back in July of 2008, I wrote this post (which I would love you to click through to read because it is one of my favorites) about photos and vanity. It's about a photo that was a bit of a life-changer for me.

 On to the holiday photo . . .

I didn't take one.

In my defense, I didn't really take any photos at Christmas. My oldest daughter wasn't home and my husband was sick on Christmas day. My home-from-college sons were gone a lot and time just got away from me.

However . . .

This last weekend my Mr. Fix-it, Social Butterfly and I went down to the beach one afternoon and I took my camera. I made sure I was not just on the shooting end of the camera, but in the viewfinder as well.

The result is two of my favorite photos ever, with two of my favorite people.

I wasn't planning on being in front of a camera when I put on yoga pants and a t-shirt in the morning, and I don't really have the type of hair that is improved by being windblown, but I've learned to relax a little on those things.

I think I might be growing up.

 

 

Whipped Winner and Beautiful Beagle

 The first order of business is the winner of the book giveaway for my friend Melissa Westemeier's book Whipped, Not Beaten. Tada!

Randomly chosen winner #10: The last party of this type I was invited to was some women's adult stuff affair, which I couldn't handle the thought of and so didn't go. I did go to a Tupperware party many years back. Does that count?

Honestly, I just really want to read the book. :)

Posted by: Rubye Jack | January 05, 2012 at 12:15 PM

Congrats, Rubye! Send me your snail mail info!

 

Now on to the beautiful beagle . . .

Since Beaux is an only dog now, she gets a lot more attention. Luckily, she seems to enjoy it. I snapped the photo above when I took her to a monthly "beagle brigade" at a local dog park. Social Butterfly thought it looked like she was working the runway; she is a pretty dog!

SB has been taking lots of photos of Beaux as well and has requested an adorable dog mosaic post. So please, bear with me!

There were 81 beagles in the dog park!

 

(Mini) Milestones . . .

Some milestones are huge and come with fanfare and photo opportunities--first steps, first day of school, graduation. Then there are the touchstone moments that may not pack the ceremonial wallop of a true milestone, but tug at your heartstrings nonetheless.

Sunday held one of those bittersweet moments.

Social Butterfly needed to choose a baby/toddler picture to include in the yearbook; one of those "seniors only" sections. I chose the photos for the older kids because I cared more than they did (the boys cared not at all!), but SB, like her mother, loves this sort of thing. She had a certain picture in mind--locating it was the issue. Thankfully, we found it without too much trouble--I'm not photo-album level organized, but I am "tote and envelope" level organized.

With turning in the photo, I've crossed another to-do item off the list that itemizes the steps on the road to being the parents of grown children. Social Butterfly is busy crossing more off as she organizes her college acceptance materials (in at Colorado State and San Francisco State, waiting to hear from San Jose State, San Diego State and Northern Arizona) and, in a turn of events that warms the cockles of my heart, verbalizes how much she is enjoying her last year home alone with Mom and Dad.

 
My baby girl--smart and sassy and ready to kiss home and high school good-bye and take on the world!