Juggling Life

No Girls Allowed

 

Back when Grownup Girl was still little, this guy, Landon, was her best friend. My mom's house and Landon's house had a common back fence so they always knew when the other was home and they played at one house or the other constantly. These pictures were taken when they were 4.

GuG never was a girly girl so they played outside a lot, made "inventions" by using a jump rope to tie several different ride-on toys together and did backyard science experiments. They were inseparable, had tons of fun and as you can plainly see were adorable together.

We were all excited when they were in the same kindergarten class. Okay, most of us were excited. It seems that Landon's Dad figured that now that his son was in school and a "big" boy, it was time to put away the frivolities of youth. Frivolities like playing with girls.

Dad had Landon help him build the coolest, most rocking tree house ever. GuG excitedly watched it go up from her side of the fence. When it was done, Dad painted a great big sign to put on the door. I'm not sure if Landon could read it himself since he'd just started kindergarten, but the message was pretty clear. "NO GIRLS ALLOWED!"

Oh yes he did. In 1990. Between the time that tree house went up and Landon's family moving away a year and a half later, their friendship was never the same. Landon's mom didn't really understand her husband's position, but she wasn't about to buck the system. No, they didn't keep in touch.

Life Lessons

                                 Danger Boy and Lucas, 1995

This photo was taken on top of Mt. Soledad just before DB's best friend, Lucas, moved to Virginia when his Navy fighter pilot Dad was transferred.

Of course the reason Luke was DB's best friend was because his mom was my best friend. I've always been the sort of person that has one or two close friends. I have a much wider circle of friends now, but back then--I was 29--Lucas' mom, Katie, was definitely my best friend. We were the same age, her daughter was MVP's age, and DB and Luke were born a week apart.  For our neighborhood we were both on the young side to have kids, so we were very close.

We were President and Secretary of our babysitting co-op, took the kids swimming daily, went on lots of trips to the zoo and Sea World and the beach together, planned Mom's night outs, exchanged books and generally had tons of fun together. She threw the baby shower when I was pregnant with Social Butterfly.

When her husband got orders to his new duty station, I was devastated. How could we be separated, we were perfect friends--our kids were the right ages, our husbands got along, everything was idyllic in suburbia and I liked it that way.

Katie? Not so devastated. Three months before she physically left, she was mentally gone. And it didn't seem to bother her in the least. While I was planning the ultimate going away bash and searching for the perfect "remember us" present (a John Yato watercolor print) and wringing my hands over the whole situation, she cheerfully set about purging her house for the movers, researching schools and neighborhoods in Virginia Beach, and just generally moving on.

Today we exchange yearly Christmas cards and I'm always excited to see the kids and hear about what they're doing. Since then I've had a few more friends that are/were Navy wives so I get how their minds work a lot better. It wouldn't do you much good to fixate and make yourself miserable about something you can't change, so you develop a can-do, make the best of every situation attitude.

I was sorry to see her go, but on reflection I was lucky to have the opportunity to learn a lot about the power of a positive attitude from her. When life hands you lemons, you gather your ingredients and make lemonade. Thanks, friend.

In Which Danger Boy Gains A Following

    Grownup Girl, MVP and Danger Boy: South Carlsbad State Beach 7/93

When Danger Boy was four months old, my Mom, Mr. Fix-it and I took all three kids beach camping for a week. Now DB started rolling over at 5 weeks old, he was able to sit upright without support by about 2+1/2 months, and began to crawl at 3 months. So when this picture was taken, DB could both crawl and sit up, but could not get himself into the sitting position.

Think back to when a baby is learning to get themselves into the sitting position. The chubby legs and feet tucked under the body, the arms pushing them upright. Think about how many false starts and falls forward are involved. How many times they almooooooooost make it, only to end up back on all fours.

That was Danger Boy at the beach the day this photo was taken. Crawl, crawl, crawl. Almost sit up. Crawl, crawl, crawl. Almost sit up. This went on for hours. Then, at last, the almost changed into did. He sat up! By himself!

The crowd went wild! Everyone that was at the beach that July day had become engrossed in the efforts of this baby and when his hard work and effort paid off and he achieved his goal, the beach erupted in spontaneous applause. They were rewarded with a wide toothless grin and a belly laugh.

Maybe I'm biased (being the proud mom and all), but I like to think that I'm not the only one that remembers that baby and that day.

In Which I Survive International Travel Alone With Three Children Under The Age of 7 And Live To Tell About It

Sidebar: I'm guest posting at Kellan's great new blog, On The Flipside, today.

Okay, so it was only Canada, but still . . . I started thinking about posting this story way back in July when Jamie was trying to negotiate her travel plans in order to allow her to attend BitchHer 08. She was willing to fly by herself with 3 year old twins to Hawaii--that's how much she loves us; alas, it didn't work out. Just thinking about her doing it inspired this post, though.

This is one of my favorite pictures of me, MVP, Danger Boy and Social Butterfly evah!

This photo was taken by Mr. Fix-it at the Vancouver International Airport in British Columbia. He had a work assignment that required him to be on Nanaimo, Vancouver Island for 2 months. I got the travel office for his employer to swap 2 of his tickets home for 4 tickets for us to visit him instead.

By the time we left I'd been a single parent for one month (he'd had one weekend home). The kids were 7, 4 and turning 3 whilst on our trip. The outfits we're wearing were our travel uniforms. I wanted to be able to see them and I for sure wanted everyone around to know that these kids belonged to me.

Our day began fairly early in San Diego. My mom drove us to the airport (Grownup Girl was still living with her and couldn't really miss 2 weeks of school). I had 3 kids, 3 suitcases, 2 car seats and each child had their own backpack. Thankfully there were no diaper-wearers in the crowd! Mom had to drop us off to get to work, so I was on my own once we hit the curb.

We were flying Alaska Airlines to Sea-Tac and then switching planes for the short trip to Vancouver. Flying with children allowed me the coveted (hahahahahahaha) pre-boarding status. As I was buckling the second car seat in (sans assistance), with the hot breath of 100 passengers on my neck, I was compelled to turn and ask the flight attendant loudly, "Does pre-boarding mean that you just give us a head start before the crowd tramples us?!" Apparently she assumed the question was rhetorical.

The flight was uneventful. New toys, candy, and the threat of death upon misbehavior have always been a winning combination for me when it comes to flying with children.

Thankfully, I knew that the gate we needed to be at for the next leg of our flight was right next door to the gate at which we were landing. Wait, you know where this is going right? Anyone, anyone? Ding, ding, ding! Last-minute gate change. From gate 3 to gate 100 (my memory may be sketchy on the exact gate numbers). This is not hyperbole people. I had to run through Sea-Tac with 2 car seats and 3 small children to make my connection. We were just in time to repeat the delightful pre-boarding scenario of earlier in the day.

I must say that my memory of Vancouver International Airport is that the Customs officials were kind, the public art was beautiful (lots of Jade) and, Hallelujah! my husband was waiting there to carry the car seats!

Back to the photo . . . frankly, I'm delighted and amazed that I don't look one bit on the outside like the frazzled, exhausted mess I was on the inside. How was the trip? Now that's another post!

In Which Reading To My Children Has An Unexpected Advantage

This photo wasn't taken on the same day as this story happened, but it was around the same time period.

Backstory: When MVP and Danger Boy were little tykes, the Little Critter books were among their favorites. We had a pretty full selection of Little Critter in our library, including Just Lost.

I had a double jogging stroller for Danger Boy and Social butterfly. (Not that I did much jogging). We were at the San Diego Animal park one day--we went every couple of weeks or so. Social Butterfly was in the stroller. MVP and Danger Boy were walking ahead of us, but not too far, holding hands.

We were walking by an amphitheater when a show let out. People spew from exits spaced close together. I am abruptly halted by a continuous flow of humanity, heedless to my cries of "Excuse me, excuse me." Meanwhile, I watch helplessly as MVP and Danger Boy continue forward unable to hear me call them because the crowd is so noisy.

I rip Social Butterfly from the stroller, abandon it, place SB on my back (she was about 9 months) and run, frantically searching for my boys. There are so many directions they could have gone. I race  one way then another and scream their names like a madwoman. As I am looking for security there is an announcement over the P.A. "Jenn Juggling Life please report to security." I find a kiosk and ask where security is; an officer arrives in a golf cart and takes me there.

There sit my boys, 5 and 2, patiently and calmly waiting for me. I hug them and shed a few tears of relief. "How did you get here?" I ask.

"Well when we couldn't see you I knew we were lost. So I did what Little Critter's mom says you're supposed to do. I went to the food stand and told a worker we were lost. The police brought us here."

It was the first time that I'd ever experienced "the terror." It's not been the last time, but there's nothing like it. I'm a big believer in educating your kids on how to behave in crowds and with people they don't know, but not teaching them to fear strangers. This book obviously helped me do that in a big way.

In Which My Life Is A Zoo

In the wee hours of next Tuesday morning (4ish) Mr. Fix-it, MVP and I will begin the 17 hour drive to take MVP to college--Colorado State University Fort Collins. This week has been filled with lots of errands and last-minute preparations, plus an unexpected trip to Urgent Care. Monday night though, MVP and I did something just for fun, just the two of us; something we used to do all the time.

  

We went to the zoo. A long time (and several feet in height for MVP) ago, we used to visit the world famous San Diego Zoo on a weekly basis. Grown-up Girl was in school all day, Danger Boy and Social Butterfly were but a gleam in my eye and MVP and I hung out alone together all the time.

 

(To answer MVP's questions upon seeing these pictures: they were overalls and they were from Nordstrom. They were not stupid. And yes, you had a step haircut. It was very stylish in 1993. Was too. Shut up.)

 If you're a go-er and a do-er the way I am, San Diego is the perfect place to be a SAHM. We had Zoo/Wild Animal Park passes and Sea World passes. We knew every park in the greater San Diego area plus we had the beach and the bay and our local swim club. What more could you want?

 MVP and I availed ourselves of all San Diego had to offer, but the zoo was absolutely his favorite place. Karen, the orangutan, was just a newborn when we started visiting her in the nursery every week. We toured the reptile house and always made a visit to the Children's zoo to watch chicks hatch, feed the goats and check out the naked mole rats. The day we watched a Dik Dik being born on our way to catch the Skyfari was special indeed. And MVP never once confused a Dromedary with a Bactrian.

 MVP never really watched cartoons; he's always been all about the Discovery channel. Even today, he'll take a documentary on anacondas or gorillas over anything on MTV. My dream job for him would be to be a field producer for a show like Man Vs. Wild.

We'll see. In the meantime, I'll look forward to the Festival of Lights at the Wild Animal Park over Winter Break. And maybe spend some time looking at some pictures of a little boy that's about to leave his mom behind. Which is as it should be, but still . . .

Note: I'm still having difficulties posting from LiveWriter--I'm not happy about the way this lays out, but I'm really tired so I'm going to let go and go to bed!

In The Beginning . . .

The first time we ever came to Mammoth as a family, we came with new friends who'd "won" the trip in a school auction. Social Butterfly was 1+1/2, Danger Boy was 3, MVP was 6. The other couple had 2 kids, the same ages as SB and DB.

The first 4 hours were great, we slept for 8 hours and the next 12 hours was horrific. Why? Ignorance and stupidity. In the interest of saving anyone else from making the mistakes we made, I'll enumerate our points of idiocy for you.

Arrived in the early evening, drank heavily, didn't hydrate.

Woke up early, didn't hydrate, packed lots of potato chips and not enough water for our 5 mile hike (you did note the ages of our children, right?).

It wasn't bad getting to the Devil's Postpile. The trail was fairly flat, we were fairly fresh. The kids were game.

                                      

It was right after we left the Devil's Postpile that my friend and I and the littlest two started dragging. You know how sometimes you wake up after drinking a lot and you think you're okay, but later in the day you realize you're hungover? Yeah, it was a lot like that.

Mr. Fix-it and friend's husband decided (without really consulting or informing us) that they would take the big kids (and the water) and just keep hiking until they reached our destination and then wait for us there. Remember when there were large areas of the country without cell phone service?

That left friend and I (keep up here) with 2 toddlers, no water, and 2 raging hangovers, hiking in the heat of the day. The toddlers could no longer walk and had to be carried and the sun was blazing; frankly I'm not sure how we made it. But we did. This was our reward.

  

When we returned home we read the guidelines for adjusting to high altitude. It went a little something like this:

1. Don't drink the first day

2. Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate

3. Avoid salty foods

4. No physical exertion for the first 24 hours

You can see why we had to come back next year and try it the right way, don't you?

21 Things I Love About You

             

        August 1, 1987; it was hot. Yet the photographer couldn't think of a little pressed powder?

 

In honor of 21 years of marriage, I thought I'd give Mr. Fix-it (and you) my list of 21 things I love about him.

1. Sense of humor

2. Willingness to take all early morning game carpools

3. Good looking

4. Smells great (Givenchy . . . yum!)

5. Ability to handle our finances really well

6. I've never had to ask for support in tough times; it was always there

7. Choosing family over work time and time again

8. Being non-competitive (I totally need the balance!)

9. Ability and willingness to do any household chore including, but not limited to: laundry, vacuuming, and steam cleaning carpets. Cooking? Not so much.

10. Can fix anything

11. Thinks any way I decorate is great

12. Accepts my crazy family

13. Even though you're an introvert you let me fill the house with all kinds of people

14. Loves whatever I cook (or don't cook if it's one of those nights)

15. Best cannonball in the world

16. Terrific father

17. Best gift-giver evah!

18. Always stops to help women with car trouble. "I'd want a man like me to stop if it was my wife or daughter stranded."

19. You're always willing to be my designated driver

20. Phenomenal taste in women's jewelry

21. Truly my life partner; we've never had a moment's doubt

 

In other news . . .

I'll be leaving bright and early for vacay. I have posts written and fingers are crossed for WiFi, but visiting will probably be limited. I'll see ya' when I see ya'!

P.S. #22--He will have driven the entire way from San Diego to Mammoth while I studied for the RICA. Thanks Hon.

In Which I (Pretty Much) Overcome My Vanity

There are not too many "bad" pictures me floating around the world. Up until I started blogging and getting together with other bloggers (who all had cameras as big as mine--or bigger (Aaryn!), I pretty much had total creative control.

I always took and developed the pictures and went through them before anyone else saw them. With the advent of digital photography it got even easier--delete!

Last summer a friend took the picture below, without my knowledge and e-mailed it to me. It was taken at about 6:00 p.m.at La Jolla Shores. I'd been at the beach since 5:50 a.m. The occasion was a bonfire for the boys and girls water polo teams; I wanted to give the Brazilians a quintessential San Diego experience. I had arranged food and drinks and rides for a party of what ended up being about 50 people. It was a blast! I had such a great time watching the teenagers--especially the antics of the girls who were meeting the Brazilians for the first time.

But I digress. Back to the picture. When I opened the e-mail I was all "Aaack! My nose! My crows feet! I need to whiten my teeth! I'm not wearing any makeup!" I came this close to deleting the e-mail.

 

Then I ran into the woman that took the photo at Vons. She was so excited to have taken the photo. She went on and on about what a great mother-daughter shot it was. How happy I looked. How great a picture her daughters thought it was.

She was right, I was happy. I was throwing a fantastic party, my family was there, these kids from another country were having this phenomenal time because I was willing to put some effort into making sure they had this experience (have I ever mentioned how I'm so not a morning person and hello? 5:50 a.m.!). And I was ready to hit delete just because I'm vain.

So not only did I keep the picture, I'm posting it for all to see. Why? I suspect I'm not the only person out there that's editing their life's record so that only the pretty pictures remain. I'm beginning to think that might not be such a good idea. Thanks, Susan, for opening my eyes.

A Tale of Two Brothers

Once upon a time, when MVP was almost 3 years old, his parents had another baby. That baby was MVP's baby brother; he would come to be known as Danger Boy.

 

One was a redhead, the other a blonde, but they both had big blue eyes and a sense of adventure. Their parents realized pretty quickly that DB was not going to let MVP leave him behind just because DB was 3 years younger. So DB learned to walk, run, swim, ride a bike, and throw a ball pretty damn quick--he was going to keep up with his big brother no matter how many trips to Urgent Care it necessitated!

MVP was pretty gracious about the whole thing; frankly, he seemed to get a kick out of it. With MVP's blessing, DB beat the pants off the entire 5th grade in tetherball as a 2nd grader.

As they grew, they mixed it up once in a while, but they were still pretty good friends. Their mother's heart sang every time they played long toss across the wide backyard of the pie-shaped lot upon which their suburban house stood. You see, she had dreamed that very scene the day she first looked at that backyard. It was high on the list of reasons their parents bought that house.

 

They shared a love of weaponry of all sorts, dogs, reptiles, baseball, beating the stuffing out of each other, and first doting on, then later tormenting, their baby sister. Their parents thought it might be best if they played different sports so as not to encourage unhealthy competition. Their plan failed miserably; whatever one tried, the other one wanted to try also.

MVP had always been a good athlete. Then a teacher talked him into trying Water Polo. Suddenly, he was a great athlete. It was the sport for which he was built and he loved it. In due time, as these things often went, Danger Boy tried Water Polo also. What do you know, it was his sport also, although for different reasons then it was MVP's sport. MVP had the build and the bulk, DB had the heart and intensity. Neither one of them ever backed down.

So it was that during MVP's senior year and Danger Boy's freshman year of high school, they played Water Polo for the same high school team. MVP was captain of the varsity squad and, no surprise here, MVP. Danger Boy was captain of the freshman team and MVP. He also played on the JV squad and in all the varsity tournaments. He got to play on the CIF team which went to the second round, a big accomplishment for their high school, under his big brother's leadership.

For the whole year before MVP was to leave for college, they rode to school together, rode to practice together, went out to eat with their teammates together, watched game film together, and generally spent a lot more time together than a 14 year old and a 17 year old might be expected to.

Like the long toss in the backyard when they were 6 and 9, watching them play Water Polo together made their mother's heart sing. In fact, someday she may have to tell the story of Danger Boy passing the ball to MVP who scored the winning goal in a tournament. Picture included.