Ugh... I confess

Yup. I've been skirting the issue. I've been dodging the bullet. I've been happily ignoring the situation. I've been in denial bliss. And I've been complaining of lack of content for this blog. Now I must confess.

After years and years of handling cameras, taking pictures, learning about exposure, composition, development, printing, mounting, zone system (my favorite), etc., being trusted with cameras - anything from 35 mm to large format (4X5 dreams)... After all these years, I did manage to make the biggest rookie mistake and ended up sending what my friend Sherry calls my "bad-ass camera" flying to land, lens first, on concrete. 

Ugh. Mental slap, kick, and punch. Internal crying. Lots of modulated breathing and controlling the emotions so that the brain could work. 

Happy to report the only thing broken was my UV filter, although the lens did get dented, so the camera and lens are out for diagnostics and repairs. I'm "cameraless", but not for long.

And a BIG, BIG, BIG kudos to my darling husband, who spent the money on (what I always viewed as useless) insurance for the "bad-ass" camera - not so useless, was it?

Trust your instincts or learn the hard way

I have been dreading the approach of the girls' birthdays for some time. Not so much because they are getting older, but because this year they were getting a joint party, and we know that means a lot of work. Thankfully, most of the mini-guests were siblings in one of the girls' classrooms, which contained the numbers on the obligatory set of parents that come when you celebrate small kids' birthdays. Being an obligatory parent myself, I also should say that the parents who came are friends, so that was a nice bonus.

Anyway, this is not so much about the feast itself (I'll do another one on that), but about the lessons learned. Somebody said that life isn't a destination so much as a journey, so let me tell you about the journey. And let me convince you to trust your instincts from time to time, unless you like to learn the hard way.

At the risk of having this turn into the 5th grade composition paper, let me start this way:

What I learned this weekend:
(a) If the weather report says it's going to rain only in the morning, it's wrong.
And if you think it will, somehow, work out, then you are wrong. As I planned the girls' party for a Saturday in September, the last thing in my mind was the possibility of rain. I mean, this is So. California last time I checked, and last time I checked it NEVER rains in September. Enter Global Warming, Climate Change, or whatever it's called these days, and I guess anything is possible. We were hit by a storm front coming in from Alaska, and by the looks of it, the storm just didn't move quickly enough, because the downpour came on Friday night and lasted through the early afternoon on Saturday. It didn't rain quite enough to flood us, and the thunderstorms never materialized, but it rained enough for us to judge it better to move the party indoors.

(b) You can fit a whole bunch of people and a swarm of screaming little girls in a small space and survive to tell the story.
Our discussion when considering plan B (indoor party in our small house v. outdoor party in the picnic area of our beautiful park, playground included) was quite the tug-o-war. Since plan B hadn't become a necessity until the last minute, we finally stopped arguing about an alternate venue and agreed that the house would be party central in the unlikely event of rain. Unlikely having become likely, we routed everyone to our 1667 sq. ft. home. Take out the master bedroom, the office, and wasted spaces, and it's not so much space anymore. Add in a troupe of screaming five year-old girls, a couple of toddlers, two unsuspecting little boys, and voilá: if you are not ready to have a drink, you will be by the end of the night. We adults ended up knowing each other better due to the close proximity, but everyone seemed to be happy and there was plenty of food. And since the house isn't palatial, then the parents didn't have to run around to keep an eye on their kids. My closet became the hideout at some point, and Katarina ended up with orange juice on her hair, after Larissa and her BFF Isabelle decided it'd be fun to pour it on her. My carpet ended up soaked in the same juice as well, so Jim had to clean the carpet he'd cleaned that morning. And we lived to tell the story, after having a few drinks.

(c) If you think that children should not play with bubbles unsupervised, you're most definitely right
I can't stress this one enough. Maybe it's common sense, but again, remember the small house? Well, once it stopped raining for sure, a few kids spilled out to the patio/yard area, where I rediscovered the bubbles intended for their use. My strategy at this point was to keep them entertained and out of trouble in the patio, while we adults had a bit of a reprieve and time to recharge our worn-out parenting batteries. It didn't take long for me to see the error of my ways. Larissa and her BFF Isabelle (see an emerging them here?) had decided to pour the bubbles on the sodas and one of the toy cars outside. The sodas became the cleanest sodas in the neighborhood, and ditto for the car. And for the driver. Yes... the car had a driver, which made my godson Noah the victim of female mischief, as he became the recipient of their soapy liquid.

(d) Last but not least, I have learned that little girls are skilled at scheming. I have learned that I shouldn't trust them when they are quiet (well, I learned that one long ago). I have learned that watching my kids play with their friends in this early stage is one of the sweetest memories of all.

And he's baaaaack!!! Thank God!

So, Jim is finally back from his company trip to Chicago... a trip I should've been on as well, but that's a whole other Oprah... and since I am bitter, we'll just have to skip it.

He was gone from Thursday to Monday, which sounds like a long time, and then sounds like an even longer time if you are a mom with two little rascals, swim lessons to go to, work meetings, a new boss... and a FULL weekend looming ahead of you with said little rascals - a weekend in which you'll have to figure out how to work on your tan, watch the kids at the pool, read your latest novel, clean house and do laundry. And let's not forget the ever present pets...

Let's preface this whole "adventure" by saying that we all are still alive and well... and fed... and clean...

So here's what I had planned with hubby out of town. I was going to finally have some ME time after the girls got to bed (8:30 p.m. the latest) for luxurious bubble baths accompanied by candle-light, wine or probably the much-loved Cosmo (the drink, not the dog), and the previously mentioned novel. And since I'd have no-one to answer to in the late hours at night, I was FINALLY going to catch up with all that scrap-booking and start Katarina's book (she's almost two, by the way, and yes, I said "start"). Oh, yes! And of course I'd find the time to work out.

Instead, let's go with the reality check of what my week was really like...

...the night before:
I haven't slept. My adorable but highly disorganized husband didn't finish packing until close to 11 p.m. Larissa ended up in my bed, and somehow Jim ended up downstairs. And we both woke up on the hour afraid to miss his 4 a.m. alarm. Finally he's up (thanks to me no less), and now I can go back to sleep... or not!

Day 1, Thursday:
I'm up. I'm organized. I'm in the shower and out... and I'm so freaking tired I can't figure out whether I should soap my hair and shampoo my body or the other way around... but it's early, so a couple of minutes in the shower won't hurt too much. I change, get the girls up and changed. Down for breakfast before 7:00 a.m., as per pre-established routine, so far, so good. Coffee... maybe not (BAD idea). Breakfast for the girls, let's eat, get lunches ready, clean the kitchen... it's 7:35 a.m. per departure goal. YES! I've done it!

Oh-oh... forgot to feed the dog... And didn't get a chance for breakfast, so I'm going to be hungry and cranky pretty soon.

Swim lesson - skip, early meeting. Work day went well, and I did go swim for 20 min., so the workout has been handled. I look forward to the evening after the girls are in bed, and I have my book, and the tub, and whatever...

Evening comes... let's feed the girls, clean the kitchen yet again, and let's not forget the poor, hungry dog again... even if it turns out I fed her cat food. Baths go ok, even if I'm pretty tired by now... I take them to bed; Larissa and I pray together, and voilá! I've done it... now as to me... 8:30 p.m. and I'm out. So much for tub, wine, reading, etc. Didn't even stay awake long enough for "So you think you can dance"...


Day 2, Friday:
Oh... I slept so good... oops.. time to get up and get started all over again. This time, I remembered to clean up the cat litter and refill the cats' food and water. Routine goes as well as yesterday, so no changes there, except now I have coffee I prepared the night before and managed to sit down and eat something too. We leave at 7:45 a.m., which is still good time. No swim lesson today.

Work goes as usual... except I'm so happy it's Friday that I can hardly wait. And I skipped out early from a late afternoon event to go swim for another 20 min (I usually do 30, but time's running short). Go get the girls, and here's where you can tell I'm absolutely brilliant: I decide to go to Costco with the two of them, since we need some stuff... yeah.

I know now the error of my ways. Costco on a good day is ok. With the two of them, it's a challenge. And it's just plain tiring. At least I managed to keep them IN the cart, despite repeated efforts to the contrary on Katarina's part. Add to that I am tired (remember my swim?), and hungry, and so are the girls. 2+2=disaster.

We're out, we're gone, we're at home. I turn into what I consider the negligent mother and feed them chicken nuggets straight out of the box I found at Costco, instead of going into my usual "let's-cook-dinner-from-scratch" routine (I know... I know...) And since it's Friday, I'll just give them a bath tomorrow morning. Fed, changed, and into bed. And here goes my second night. I actually made myself a Cosmo (I prefer them with Cointreau), got in my PJs and hopped into bed. And made it until 9:30 p.m. Woo-hoo! I'm living dangerously... yeah...

Day 3, Saturday:
The weekend turned out to be better than I expected, largely because we were more relaxed without the ever-looming schedule. I did figure I'd have to clean the house some, especially since I could actually enjoy a couple of days of keeping it clean. We went to the lagoon at Rancho Santa Margarita and spent a couple of hours there. I like to get there early around 10:00 a.m. to avoid the crowds and get a nice spot. The girls were quite good for about 1.5 hours, after which time they got into a screaming match over a towel, and Katarina had a meltdown, so I was forced to take them back home. But I was able to work on my tan in preparation for our Maui vacation, finish reading one of my books, and watch the girls without a glitch. Larissa practiced her "swimming" with her hot-pink goggles, and Katarina spent time playing in the sand and venturing a little bit into the water.

We went home, had lunch, and the girls took a nice, long nap (emphasis on LONG). I let out my aggressive tendencies on the kitchen sink and counter, with the help of a sponge and a cleaner with bleach. A little while later, I had a beautiful and sparkling clean kitchen in which to cook... my dream come true!

The rest of the day is now a blur. I did started a new book (Ricochet, by Sandra Brown), made dinner, and left the bathrooms and vacuuming for the next day.

And I made it back into the grown-up world by staying up until about 11:30 p.m. I even watched a whole movie without falling asleep! It's like growing up all over again...

Day 4, Sunday:Sunday started with waffles once the little squirts decided to wake up. I swept and vacuumed, which I haven't done in a long time (Jim's the one who beats me to that chore, and I don't complain about it). It was actually somewhat therapeutic... go figure. We changed and went to the pool this time. While Larissa and Katarina splashed in the wading pool, I read my book (a paragraph at a time if I was lucky). Then I made the mistake of going to the trash can... on the way back, as I turned back in slow motion, I caught sight of my little terror, who had gotten a hold of my book. No big deal, right? I mean, I catch her with my books all the time, paging through and losing my spot, and granted a couple of times she's tried to pull the pages, but what else could she try to do? Especially since I was calling her name to make her stop... right?

Wrong. My little terror very studiously took the book with her to the wading pool, very carefully and slowly lowered the spine of said book in the water, as I moved in even slower motion to try to get to her. She very quickly decided that perhaps that wasn't the best idea. Instead, she just dropped the entire book in the water while I watched it sink to the step below. Yes. My novel was now wet - it originally was supposed to be suspenseful and steamy. So imagine this: a wet book, and pages that have wrinkled to double the width of the spine. It's still drying on my nightstand, and curling some more.

We made it back home eventually, had lunch, and down they were for some more of those long naps. And some more cleaning - this time, the bathrooms didn't stand a chance. I was on a mission!

Eventually night came along. We had dinner, but don't asked me what we ate. Nothing too fancy, but I did make a trifle cake (chocolate, of course). They went to bed, I tried to read some more wet pages. And then the night really got started...

That night...
Katarina was in rare form. She cried at least every hour on the hour, if not more. Eventually, as the cries got louder and more frequent, I capitulated and decided to get her out of the crib and help Larissa stay asleep.

I sent Larissa to my bed to sleep. I then got Katarina on Larissa's bed and snuggled with her in the hopes that she would sleep. It was roughly 1:15 a.m. As I finally started falling asleep with my baby next to me, Larissa started crying. Back up to check on her this time - "mommy, I don't want to sleep here all by myself!" I go back to Katarina, who at 1:40 a.m. now, is wide awake and ready to play, and who very enthusiastically tells me "hi, mommy!!!" I tell her sissy needs me and ask her to come to my bed. She says "no bed mommy". I ask her then if she's ok staying in bed by herself. She nods, and I leave. She sleeps, and finally so do I. It's now about 2:30 a.m.

Day 5, Monday:
5:30 a.m. "Mommy! Pee-pee!!" My sleep is interrupted, the cruel joke continues. I open one eye (not enough strength to open both...) Katarina is smiling wide and proud as she announces her latest bodily function. I assume she's peed on her diaper and get her in bed with me and Larissa. She sits there and babbles on and on. "Katy, want to go to your room?" "No!" she says, so she stays quiet for a few minutes. About 20 min. since her arrival I realize her pride wasn't contained to her words. She had actually taken off her diaper and was on my bed in her bare bottom. "Katy. Bring me a new diaper, so I can put it on you" (all this in Spanish, by the way, the only language I speak to my children). "Ok!" comes the chirpy response. She runs to her room and comes back. Smile wide and proud again, and in her hand the used diaper she slept and peed in... yuck. Time to get up I guess.

The routine starts all over again. Up, shower, change, run mental list of ideas for something to wear, run second mental list of things to do: sheets and blankets for the daycare, swimming gear for Larissa's class, lunches... There's no way I'm getting into the office before class, so I slow down a bit and do some email checking from home. We have breakfast, go through the toothbrushing routine, start getting all the bags and packs in the car... get the kids in. Larissa has no shoes. Go back in looking for my phone and Larissa's shoes, and I can't remember what else. I get the what else, forget the shoes and the phone (actually, at this point I had no clue where I'd left it)... but don't notice until we drop off Katarina...

While I may not get the "mother of the year" award, I figure it's not too, too, too bad to forget her shoes, since they spend most of their time at the daycare barefoot, so what the hell. I carry her in my arms to and from her swimming lesson, and back to the daycare. Go to work on 3.5 hours sleep and not enough coffee to counteract the effects of sleep deprivation. My heel tab comes off as I walk to a meeting across the way from my building, so now I'm forced to take a page off Larissa's book and go barefoot as well, at least in the office. I get my secret weapon out: I've got sneakers behind my door! Doesn't do much to keep me looking stylish, but I can walk outside of my building without looking like orphan Annie. I skip the swim - I can barely keep my thoughts organized, forget working out.

Then Jim shows up!! He's actually back! And he looks rested and refreshed... the bastard... but who cares. I've missed him too much to resent the irony of it. The work day comes to an end, and I go to get Larissa. Turns out I didn't just forget her shoes. I'd forgotten her lunch as well - well, not quite, since it was still in my trunk, but c'mon! I actually forgot my kid's lunch!!! Now I feel horrible.

And just like that, it's over. Jim's back, and now we can go back to juggling an insane schedule and the girls, and hopefully having one remember half of the things the other forgets. It's a balance, and it works. At least for us.

And that's my reality check.