Two in Two

Happy Holidays from the Pollards!

2011-12-22T12:42:00.000-08:00

In lieu of holiday cards by snail mail this year, I've decided to go digital. Quick notes on our year:

Shane- Our baby turned seven this November! He continues to be the major athlete, loving soccer and baseball and trying roller hockey with his big brother this winter. He also started piano lessons this fall and played his first recital. He adores his first grade teacher and continues to be a sweet and loving boy. The kid is obsessed with all things Lego, Pokemon and video games.

Bobby- Bobby has been a busy eight year old! He has played roller hockey all year and has improved on his skills tremendously. This is his second year of playing piano and he has been doing awesome! He wants to move on to guitar next. Bobby is doing great in third grade, loves Lego building, collecting Pokemon cards and playing with his friends.

Kelly- With this fickle economy, I had to say goodbye to my writing gigs for a few publications in print and online. I stayed busy with the boys and by joining the school PTA board and working as a crossing guard and yard duty this fall. I also started piano lessons with the boys! I'm hoping the writing picks up in 2012, but meanwhile you'll find me keeping the kids safe in the school crosswalk and playing soccer/baseball/hockey mom!

Robbie- Robbie continues to manage two garbage company shops in the East Bay. He works long hours but enjoys the challenge. He has also done quite a bit of work on our house, installing new floors and doors and lots of painting.

We want to wish all of our family and friends a peaceful holiday season and a wonderful new year. And for a final laugh, the boys wanted to send you all this holiday video:

http://elfyourself.jibjab.com/view/9bTQZWgLNYeQvJSn9Nji

Happy Holidays!

Further Impressions on "The Race to Nowhere"

2011-02-28T19:42:00.000-08:00

I wrote about the documentary by local film-maker Vicki Abeles in the March issue of Bay Area Kids. The honest and eye-opening interviews with parents, teachers, education advocates and the film-maker herself were so rich, I couldn’t possibly include all the information in my article.

One subject I didn’t have the space to dive into is the tragic suicide of Bay Area thirteen year old Devon Marvin in 2008.Her mother Jane made the brave choice to share her experience in the final cut of the documentary..

Devon killed herself over a bad math grade. This tragic act demonstrates the immense pressure our students face. Devon’s mother attended a screening of a rough cut of the film. After witnessing the audience’s response to the message, she offered to be interviewed in the hopes of informing other families struggling against our culture’s pressure toward high achievement.

The footage of her vibrant daughter is heartbreaking. Of her interview, Vicki says “I’m grateful she had the courage and trust to share her story. She reinforces the message about the importance of talking to our kids, stop pressuring them to have good grades.”

Marvin shares her daughter’s story to show what happens when things go to far, how life can fall apart in an instant.

“We want parents to be aware of this type of silent suffering. Suicide is a complicated issue, it’s hard to point to one cause as a culture. We need to examine the unhealthy environment and how it contributes to mental health,” Abeles says.

Pleasanton teacher Lennis Sadler, who also has three children, adds to this sentiment.

When I asked her if she questions any of the movie’s claims about education in America, she said:

“Not for a moment. I am living it. My friends are living it. The messages that really made an impact were:
Students doing everything possible to get an A, and forgetting subject matter the minute the test was over.
Students staying up really late to finish projects.
Students learning how to cheat.
Students taking drugs to stay up.
Students being expected to have above 4.0 GPA if they want to get into a good college.
Suicide.”

She continued:

“I think we are obsessed with competing in a global market. ...All we are doing is robbing them of their freedom, their childhood, and making them into stressed out young people who feel they have to do whatever is necessary to be successful.”

What happened to instilling the love for learning, just to absorb the world around us? Opening children up to possibility, creativity and open ideas?

Kerry Dickinson, a Danville mom and homework advocate, says schools should be teaching children how to be ‘world citizens’.

What can we do to protect our children from the pressure and this society of high expectations?

Abeles said all the little changes add up. Lennis Sadler reducing her homework in her second grade classroom is one of them. Kerry Dickinson scheduling an appointment with a school administrator to question the normal standards of homework in her district is another. Jane Marvin opening a door into her grief in order to help others is another.

Take a stand in your home, your classroom, your community.

“It was not until college, when I chose my own career, that I took ownership of my future, and that I started learning for myself, not others,” Sadler says. “That message has been lost. We are forcing students to try to achieve so high so early that we are burning them out before they even get to college.”

Vicki Abeles says it’s so important for parents to jump off that treadmill of what is expected, to question everything. No one else will advocate for your children’s rights but you.

If you are reading this now, you may want that change. Go to a screening of the movie. Share it’s message with other parents and with your child’s teacher. Talk to your child about school and learn to back off when it’s clear she is overwhelmed. After watching the film and talking to other parents and to Abeles, I want more than ever to protect my children from those high expectations and pressure to be perfect. I want them to love learning and school, but I don't want them buried under piles of worksheets after logging in six hours at school. I want them to stay children for as long as they can.

To learn more, visit www.endtheracetonowhere.com.

My Goof Off Son....A Leader???

2010-10-14T10:39:00.000-07:00

I'm blown away by this one. But then again, not really.

I just published a column about how my 7yr old son has been going through this painful (to me) phase of outrageous goofiness. I'm talking goofy expressions paired with silly, high pitched voices and weird, galloping walks around the house. He's like a zoo animal.

Except, apparently, at school.

This is the kid that has spent his last few years in school losing recess time on several occasions and one memorable trip to the principal's office for his behavior, mostly stemming from his clownish nature.

Second grade has him turning over a new leaf. His teacher has come up to me a few times, complimenting Bobby on his focus and his natural tendency for academics. She pulled me aside yesterday at the playground with yet another rave. She called him the "L" word. I had to peel my jaw off the pavement it had dropped so far.

He's a natural born leader, she says. My son, my crazy son, with a rap sheet that includes mooning his preschool class during circle time and making raunchy armpit noises and calling his classmate a nimrod in the first grade.

My son is a LEADER and an ACADEMIC. I'm in shock still....

A New Start, New Determination

2010-10-11T14:20:00.001-07:00

This is my vow right now to start blogging again about life in the trenches with my crazy little men. With one in kindergarten, the other in second grade, this promises to be another season of fun, mishaps and tons of love. I hope you'll follow along!

Competition and Homework?

2010-02-24T14:45:00.000-08:00

Bobby and Shane both have a serious competitive streak. Life is a game to them and they are determined to win it! Usually this levels to a mild annoyance in my everyday life when seeming insignificant things take on massive dramas. And then, those competitive tendencies will shock me.

Take Monday, as an example. Bobby brought home his homework packet for the week. Instead of grudgingly taking out his homework at the normal time, he initiated school work on his own.

Strange.

He worked through two worksheets, the minimum allowed before I'll excuse him to play. Then he breezed through another two worksheets.

Very strange.

I told him he could stop. He just shook his head. Apparently, one of his buddies in class mentioned last week that he had finished his entire homework packet long before the last minute scramble to get everything done.

Aha! The motivating factor: he wanted to beat his friend at homework. I think I'm liking this!

Cheers to a New Decade!

2010-01-06T10:11:00.000-08:00

Here I am, stumbling out of the haze of Christmas madness and New Year's party mode. And I can't believe I'm starting a new decade in my lifetime with two healthy boys and a husband in tow. Who would have thought? While the 2000's (is that what we call them?) were dominated by my Cinderella wedding, two births stacked very close together and years of fumbling with diapers, potty training and sleepless nights, I can say that 2010 feels like the freshest start I've ever had.

Shane will start elementary school in August. My freelance career is slowly blooming and can only grow as the boys log more hours at school and me at my cluttered computer desk. No longer can I blame colicky babies and midnight feedings for my lack of pitching articles. Surely I can come up with other excuses: sports commitments, sick kids and saying yes too often to working in the classroom. But I'm determined to start this decade with a kick.

I cringe even thinking of this: at the end of this decade, my boys will be teenagers. So where will I fit in all of this morphing as they grow into adults and move toward independence away from me. So much of the last decade was defined by me meeting every need. How much longer will i get away with checking off that handy box of caregiver on those summons for jury duty?

I'm not sure what shape our lives will take on over the next ten years, but I'm thrilled to jump on the ride and I can't wait to post updates here...hopefully more regularly than I have been lately. My excuses are running out!

So I hope everyone enters this new decade with inner peace, health and enthusiasm of what is to come. I know my family will!

Where has the time gone?

2009-12-07T16:33:00.000-08:00

I can't believe I haven't posted since October. Since then, I've managed to survive Shane's birthday party (a success), hosting Thanksgiving and putting up the Christmas decorations. The boys are thriving in school and are finally into the new routine and I'm even thinking of adding an extra half day of school to Shane's schedule. What we are looking forward to this month:

*My dad visiting from South Carolina and an early Christmas celebration with him.

*Christmas break from school! Ok, more like the boys are looking forward to this and I'm wondering what I can plan to keep the fighting to a minimum. Baseball camp perhaps?

*Another year of both the boys fully believing in the magic of Santa. How many more years can I get away with the "Santa is watching" bribery?

*Celebrating the season with my awesome family and friends.

My Soccer Fanatic

2009-10-16T10:04:00.000-07:00

Ever since Shane joined our family, he's existed in his older brother's shadow. It was never intentional. Bobby just has one of those outgoing, hard-to-ignore personalities. What can I say? Older brother provides pages of writing material.

Midway through soccer season, the sibling dynamic has changed. Both boys started soccer this year, though Bobby could have played for the last two years. And while Bobby still lacks that aggression to steal the ball away from the other team, Shane has been a soccer dynamo since day one.

The kid averages three goals a game.

He dribbles with both feet.

He insists on wearing his soccer cleats and shin guards to all of Bobby's practices as well...and actually scrimmages with the older boys, holding his own.

Shane falls apart when the fields are closed due to rain. Stomps the ground if the soccer ball sails wide of the goal. He would play day and night if he could.

And I'm thrilled my little guy has found something that he excels at, that he even outshines his brother at. As my mom said at the beginning of the season, "Shane needs this."

I couldn't have put it better myself.

First Day Anxiety

2009-08-24T10:12:00.000-07:00

Bobby started first grade this morning. How come I have been the one so anxious, anyway? I've had anxiety dreams for over a week. Me forgetting to pack his lunch. Me forgetting he was in school and not picking him up, having the poor kid wait in the office for hours as the secretary tried to track me down. Then last night, me taking the wrong kid to school and realizing at lunch time that Bobby was supposed to start.

Bobby was brave and had no such cases of the jitters. He marched right into class without looking back, a repeat performance of him starting kindergarten last year. He has several good friends in the class, which doesn't hurt.

Another repeat performance: Shane once again stealing the spotlight on his big brother's first day. A huge tantrum while I tried to get everyone dressed and fed this morning. Another meltdown as the parents walked their kids into the classroom and hovered around the desks like vultures to listen to the teacher explain the routine for the day. Did I hear anything? Not really. I was too busy trying to shush Shane while he whined that there were no cars in the classroom like last year. Ya, this isn't kindergarten anymore dude. First grade is serious business.

My anxiety has yet to go down. Will Bobby behave in the cafeteria? Will he listen to the teacher? Did I do enough work with him over the summer so he won't be totally lost in class. I don't know. And I have all day to worry about it....

Shane in his first tantrum of the morning...

Dodging Warrants from the Mommy Police

2009-07-29T09:37:00.000-07:00

Summer is still going strong, but apparently, my discipline skills and household routine has all but deteriorated. I've been breaking rules left and right, some that I realize are okay to let slide over the lazy days of summer. Others I rules I never thought I'd break. Combined, I'm feeling a bit like a mommy outlaw....

*Firm 8pm bedtime is a haunting memory. Now it's giving in to allow just one more movie, in hopes they fall asleep to the hum of the television (another broken rule!) Bobby had to be forced into bed after 10pm last night and I actually felt guilty about it. Wow. Just last year I had them bathed and read to by 7:30 with lights out after.

*House filled with sugary cereals. Ack! I never thought I'd be the mom to buy Cocoa Puffs and Fruity Pebbles for an actual breakfast option.

*I failed to convince Bobby to sign up for the Library Reading Game, the one thing his kindergarten teacher advised us parents to do to keep the kids up to speed on their school skills.

*I just recently busted out the workbooks I optimistically stocked in early June with hopes of working every morning with the boys on their letters and numbers.

*I have not made one batch of play dough, slimy goop, fingerpaint or homemade cookies.

*I constantly nag the boys to clean their rooms, yet my own room is total disaster. And the nagging is really only getting toys shoved from one end of the room to the other, so it is futile.

There is more, oh so much more, that I someone could report to the mommy police. We haven't made it over to the cool swim center downtown this whole summer. Video games are taking over my front room. No regular bike rides or trips to the beach. Have barely taken advantage of the East Bay Regional Parks pass I was so gung ho about a few months ago.

But I'm letting myself off the hook, I suppose. I still have a month to whip things back into shape over here. I'm sensing a trip to the library is in store today. Or maybe I'll just set a good example and clean up my own room!

San Diego Road Trip: The Awful and the Awesome

2009-07-16T12:29:00.000-07:00

"This isn't awful, guys, this is totally awesome!" ~ Bobby, age 6, said right before a historic, Shane tantrum at the San Diego Railroad Museum in Balboa Park.

San Diego Animal Park, Day 3

How would the Pollard Family's first official vacation go down? During all the planning, I honestly didn't give a thought to the reality--being, the boys' unpredictable behavior. I was more concerned with lining up tickets and hotels and building itineraries. But this is what happens during a seven hour road trip and five nights, six days away from the comforts of home.....

* Legoland, Day 2, totally awesome. Highlights were the Technic roller coaster that scared the pants off Shane and gave the rest of us a thrill, the intricate Lego buildings in Miniland USA, the water rides and the apple fries in the Knight area.

*San Diego Wild Animal Park, Day 3, totally awesome. Because of so much advise from San Diego locals and frequent travellers, we hit the park on a whim before heading down to La Jolla for our third night. I'm always one to get slightly depressed at zoos, peering at wild animals in cages who always seem to be generally pissed off. Ya, I know that zoos do important work of preserving species, but the Animal Park was way cool. It's basically a breeding ground for endangered species, that they can ship around the world and to the San Diego Zoo. My only regret was that we didn't splurge extra for the jeep ride to get even closer to the animals roaming around.

*Minivan meltdowns, Day 1-6, totally awful. Why is it that two boys can't keep their hands and feet to themselves? Punching each other, stealing toys, throwing toys, kicking the back of Dad's seat (not a good idea!) and generally ignoring the box of DVDs and the Nintendo DS. No, it's much more fun to make obnoxious farting noises on your arm for an hour nonstop. Duh.

*Seaworld, Day 4, somewhat awful. Although Dad and Bobby hit the massive water rollercoaster while I stayed back with Shane who was still damaged from his ride experience at Legoland, the rest of the park was a bust for us. We arrived and barely missed the afternoon Shamu show (what I wanted most to check out) and had all intentions of hitting the 5pm show on our way out. Every single exhibit has a gift shop that you must walk through to get back to the exit. Tantrums, trauma, oh my! Let's just say we missed out on Shamu.

*La Jolla, Day 3 and 4, total mixed bag. Smack in the middle of the trip was when Team Pollard started to become unhinged. Luckily we scored an amazing room at Hotel Parisi right in the village. Not so good, the boys were too unruly to take down for dinner. Hello takeout. Good--our hotel was walking trip to La Jolla Cove and Children's Beach with the softest sand I've ever touched. Not so good, the boys were even more unruly and we were whisking them off to Seaworld. Should have just stayed in La Jolla for the day, my bad!

*Gaslamp Quarter, Day 4-6, mixed bag again. The cleanest and coolest downtown I've been to in awhile. We stayed at the historic Keating which was close to all the main attractions. We hit Hard Rock Cafe (barely---Shane and Dad almost had to stay in the room due to another meltdown). As the boys slept right after in our room, my husband and I stared longingly at all the adults walking the streets and stepping in and out of hip bars with live music. Next time, we'll check it out without the kids!

*San Diego Zoo/Balboa Park, Day 5, meltdown day. There were highlights for sure: who can not be amazed by the adorable pandas? The skytram in the zoo was also fun. We hit the Natural History Museum, Railroad Museum, the train and carousel, but it was an all day event of the boys trading off whining sessions or games of hide and seek (from us, not good!).

I own up to some of the drama. Maybe if we would have skipped Sea World and allowed more down time, the boys wouldn't have driven us so completely insane. But I think it was also a case of bad timing...Bobby and Shane simply have not been listening to us lately, making outings like this tough. After coming home Sunday, the tired parents agreed that we needed a vacation from the boys just to recover. On the plus side, we were able to reconnect with some extended family in the area and also just spend time together as a family.

Ah, but it is so great to be home!!!

Welcome to Camp Pollard

2009-06-15T20:26:00.000-07:00

I can't believe I haven't posted in over a month. May is always hectic for us, and this year especially, when I turned the big 3-0. I celebrated all month with my wonderful family and friends and honestly feel like the luckiest girl alive, though I wasn't so lucky on our Tahoe trip...

The boys are officially on summer break so this will be my space to brag, vent, laugh and sigh at the crazy things we are up to this summer. Will I survive two+ months with the dynamic duo underfoot? Let's just see how creative I can be in keeping them entertained without leaning too much on television, video games and McDonalds bribery.

On tap:

--both boys have FREE bowling all summer long at the bowling alley in town. They figured out today on our first trip that real bowling is very different from bowling on the Wii.

--tour of the East Bay Regional Parks. I splurged on a parking pass so intend to get my money's worth. Although there will be plenty of trips to Del Valle and Shadow Cliffs, I'm determined to hit as many parks in the area as possible. If only the weather would cooperate!

--July trip to San Diego. This is our first family vacation that lasts longer than a weekend. I am stoked to soak some rays at the awesome beaches, hit the touristy spots like Legoland and the zoo, and catching up with family that lives down there.

--library reading game. Free events all summer. Need I say more.

Signs Your Son Is Growing Up

2009-05-02T09:06:00.000-07:00

Bobby's sixth birthday has come and gone. It seems like I blink and he grows at rapid pace. Examples are:

*Declaring that he is too old for baths now. He wants to shower every morning like Daddy

*Losing his two front teeth in the space of a month

*Reading his kindergarten sight word books with more fluency

*Selling his train table and Thomas the Train sets at our garage sale to spend the earnings on video games, Legos and action figures.

*Ditching the yellow blankie he's slept with since he was a newborn, saying that I need it more than he does. (At this point, I think he's right!)

This big guy continues to amaze me with the phrases he picks up at school, questions he asks me and projects he conjures up. Hard to believe this kid is the same one that refused to gain weight as a baby.

Bloody Noses

2009-04-27T09:35:00.000-07:00

I am endlessly blessed with two healthy, strong, often stubborn sons. Sure, we have issue around bad boy behavior and general terrorizing, but physically, the boys are perfection. Except for this lovely trait they both seem to have inherited from their father: recurring nose bleeds. They started when the boys were toddlers and the bleeds flair up during the height of allergy season and in the dry heat of summer. So, yes, like right now when the winds stir up the pollen and the jumping and dropping temperatures tweak all of our bodies.

Last week, Bobby had nine nosebleeds in a five day period. Yes, nine bleeds. This included one every night without fail at bedtime, a couple on the playground and some in the morning. Ironically I had just spoken with the boys' pediatrician about Shane's recurring nosebleeds at his well-check, so I was reminded of the best way to stop the bleeds, when to be concerned, etc. By Friday, I was pretty concerned and took Bobby in. This doctor blamed it on allergies and a scab in his nostril that refused to heal and prescribed a whole arsenal of remedies I'd never thought of: swiping Vaseline in his nostrils several times a day, saline spray two times a day, allergy meds if they seem to help and the big guns: qtips saturated in silver nitrate to stop the bad bleeds.

So far, so good. She also ordered a blood test, just to rule out any clotting disorder. But I believe his clotting is just fine, as evidence to how quickly we can usually stop the bleeding. He hasn't had a bloody nose since that doctor visit on Friday.

Shane, however, seems to have taken the bloody baton and has had two bloody noses: one in the middle of the night, another this morning. Never a dull moment with these guys. Now if I can only remember to keep my car and purse stocked with baby wipes and tissue!

Summer on the Horizon

2009-04-21T15:59:00.000-07:00

This sweltering weather is yet another reminder that summer is racing towards us and both boys will be out of school for almost three months. Yikes! Last year when I had more writing assignments lined up, I kept Bobby and Shane in preschool through the summer. Then I felt vaguely irritated when we had vacation plans and I still had to pay for the school days they missed. But it was sure nice to have those three mornings a week to write and take care of business without the wild guys harassing me.

This year, summer school is not an option. So now I'm burying my nose in the rec departments summer programs to fill up the calendar with sports, science and any other camps that will keep them stimulated and active. Yet, how do I decide? The boys are not much help. When asked, they say yes to nearly everything. It's up to me to narrow the field and decide just how scheduled our summer will be, and just how much we can afford with what we're saving in preschool costs.

At the same time, it's kinda fun crafting how our summer will play out. The weeks I leave free are for us to roam around the Bay Area and beyond, to take advantage of the beaches, museums and zoos. And the boys are finally at the age where I'm not terrified of taking them to the zoo by myself. I can't believe how much they are growing up!

Bobby's Tooth

2009-04-16T13:16:00.001-07:00

He lost the tooth in appropriate, boy fashion: a pillow fight with his older cousin. Other front tooth is loose, so he'll only get goofier!

Easter Traditions

2009-04-13T15:54:00.001-07:00

Anyone who knows me personally may know that the Pollards do not belong to what is called a typical family. We don't go to church on Easter morning and it's been years since we've cooked a formal Easter dinner.

No, the last few years have been all about family softball games on Easter Sunday. So we gather with my quirky, extended family at the sports park for bbq hot dogs, cold beers, an egg hunt for the youngsters, and a highly comical softball game played by the adults.

This year was picture perfect (see right) when a relative brought her bunny, named Turtle, to hippity-hop in the shaded grass. Bobby, who has been bugging me for a pet bunny, happily spent the afternoon chasing Turtle around the park. The adults managed to survive a fun game of softball with no major injuries--last year one suffered two black eyes and a near-broken nose--so all is well.

After regrouping at my house, we called five different pizza places to order our Easter dinner. All in all, a perfect holiday for our bunch!

Boy Updates

2009-04-06T13:07:00.001-07:00

I've been seriously blocked when it comes to blogging lately, which is a shame, since the boys have been very busy. Here's the latest news:

Shane is officially riding a two-wheeler! My timid, cautious Mama's boy sucked up the fear and mastered the bike without training wheels one Sunday evening a couple weeks ago. I'm so proud, and a little sad, because my baby is growing up. The downside--my camera hasn't been functioning, so no pictures.

Bobby was top in his class at his school's Mile Long Fun Run. I think I have a future track star on my hands. He beat out the top runners in all the kindergarten classes. Again, I am so proud and amazed by another big accomplishment for him. The downside--yeah, no camera for that event either.

I promise to come back to the blog more often and snap out of my writing funk.

Happy Spring!

Bringing Playfulness Back to my Writing

2009-03-02T14:04:00.000-08:00

Taking a cue from my boys, who literally played with homemade play dough all day yesterday while being shut in from the stormy weather, I decided my latest writing slump needed some attention. I've been way too serious lately with my writing. A string of freelance editing gigs on other people's projects filled my inbox. Endless revisions on my first YA manuscript (submitting to agents again, wish me luck!) started to feel mechanical as I continually scraped through pages for misplaced punctuation or too much wordiness. My confidence lurched then plunged after nearly hooking an agent with my book. The prospect of revising my second YA manuscript which is in the very messy first draft stage felt overwhelming. Then there were magazine deadlines approaching and all I wanted to do was hide under the covers.

Yet watching Bobby and Shane construct elaborate monster truck jumps out of a huge glob of play dough triggered something in my head. Play dough is fun, but it's also educational for young children. Where was my fun? Creativity is supposed to be playful and freeing, yet why was I leaning more toward the tortured artist role than playful child? Sure, all the left brain editing is important for churning out some polished prose or bringing in some extra income and each rejection (supposedly) brings a writer closer to finding a home for her baby, but why was it all becoming such a downer? Well duh, nobody likes to be rejected. And it's tough editing other people's work when you are itching to start your own, or in my case, when you'd rather curl up with a juicy (and perfectly edited) novel by someone else.

So this morning, seated at the kitchen table still littered with tiny green fragments of clay, I whipped out my notebook to face my latest project...an essay for my Suburban Queen column. Instead of the usual free writing I do to spark ideas, I revisited an old technique I used in my school days: clustering.

Come on, we've all done this as students. Take your main idea (mine was t-ball season), write it in the center of the page and circle it. Then free associate ideas into a network of bubbles surrounding the main idea. In the space of about ten minutes, I filled my page with tons of ideas. I remembered the chaos of lost baseball socks right before a game, snack duty for the team, the chill of early Saturday mornings on the bleachers as my baby raced around the bases. The first draft came naturally then and I know it'll only grow as it sits in the back of my mind before I shift back to that trusty left side of my brain for rewrites. You'll see the finished product in the April/May issue of Bay Area Kids Magazine, be sure and check it out!

He Giggles in his Sleep

2009-02-11T16:04:00.000-08:00

Shane's turn....

I feel like the kid is always shortchanged when I'm sharing silly stories about the boys. Bobby's precociousness and overgrown self esteem provides pages of funny material for my writing. Then poor Shane is left in the background. Maybe it's because Shane is more cautious, more affectionate and cuddly...how much can you rave on about that, you know?

Well, not today.

Shane has taken up the unfortunate habit again of crawling into bed with us before the sun comes up. I admit I'm horribly out of practice from those toddler daze when I marched him back to his own bed with his firm hand. He's just so darn cuddly and I generally enjoy it, as long as Robbie is already out of bed for work.

So as the gloomy day began this morning and I snuggled into his lanky body, just on the edge of wakefulness, Shane startled me awake by an attack of full blown giggles. That's not unusual, especially if Bobby has snuck into the bed as well and they are wide awake and telling gross, little boy jokes to each other as I will them to stay in bed a few more minutes. But this morning, it was just Shane and me (and the dog, of course), and the giggles were followed by a drawn out, sleep-sigh. Light snoring. The kid was dead asleep. So I watched him for awhile and his sweet little mouth, turned up in a smile, allowed a few more guffaws.

What a way to start my rainy morning of rushing two kids to two different schools before 8:30.

When I asked him what he had been dreaming about, I didn't exactly get the adorable response to put the finishing touches on my blog. He claims he was dreaming about poop and hot dogs.

Hey, he's still a gross boy and all that...

The Birthday Chatter Begins

2009-02-03T10:39:00.000-08:00

He thinks I can just up and change the day I gave birth to him. Preferably to seven days from now. Mind you, his birthday isn't until the end of April. This is the sign that the Christmas giddiness is far behind us and he expects presents and excess toys to crowd me out of the house.

February has always been a relief to me. The stress of the holidays far enough to seem like a dream and the hectic springtime just a faint shadow on my horizon. Because when Bobby turns six on April 29, he'll kick off what I think of as birthday month--family birthdays crowded side by side like weary soldiers.

And he wants to change it.

I want to change his birthday!

The chatter is already beginning. Bobby wants a robot themed party at Chuck E Cheese. No wait, make that the park with a jump house and waterslides. No, scratch that. Now there is talk of kids in his class hiring a portable petting zoon (ah, think not!) or an old-school fire engine that drives right up to your curb where the kids can scramble in and out like sugar-drugged monkeys.

The birthday list begins. He wants a massive Star Wars lego set (I think not, I tell him. Take care of the legos you have because I'm sick of stepping on them with my bare feet. He wants a robot cake flanked with similar cupcakes.

And all I want is a couple months where I don't have to plan a blow out party or holiday event, where I don't have to make guest lists and budgets and all that.

Oh wait, I think it's time for me to buy those cheap valentines for the boys to pass at school parties.

Ah, it never ends...

The House of Lost Things

2009-01-27T14:36:00.000-08:00

We have a serious situation in my household at the moment.

Everything keeps disappearing!

It started with the charger for my brand new cell phone. That was a month ago and the charger still hasn't turned up and I have yet to replace it. What a pain--I've been charging my phone up through my computer.

Next, it was the top of my fancy, NEW Sigg water bottle. The same day it came in the mail, the top just disappeared. Shane insists he dropped it in his toy box, but it has yet to turn up.

The latest casualty--my dust pan.

I mean, really?? Where is all my stuff ending up and why is it only the things that I use??

Bobby's Twins

2009-01-21T14:44:00.000-08:00

I've been meaning to set this story down for posterity....

New year, new habits, new changes...and yes, that includes weekly trips to Weight Watchers with my sister. Although I'm a WW rookie, I lived Jenny Craig for months before my wedding and I still recall the anxiety over the weekly weigh-ins and also that my sister always seemed a pound or two (or seven! our first week) ahead of me. I promised myself I wouldn't look at these meetings as a competition. We're there to cheer each other on and push each other to do better. I do have my 30th birthday to look smokin hot for in May, ya know.

Anyway, the very day that I tried my first meeting, stepped gingerly on the unfamiliar scale and recoiled at the weight I'd let myself reach, also happened to be the very day that Bobby's teacher pulled me aside afterschool and asked quietly if I was expecting.

Yikes!

Sure, I was in yoga pants and bulky sweatshirt. Sure, my weigh-in revealed I was a little too close to my pregnancy wait (full term) with Bobby almost six years ago. But, oh, the horrors of it all! Of course, she wasn't commenting on my supple shape. Seems my son talked her into believing we were expecting twins this spring. A boy and a girl and they were going to live in our play room.

I drilled Bobby on the way home. Why did you say that? Do you really want more stinky kids in the house? Do you realize your father is biologically limited to giving me boys? I let him rattle on, his new obsession is how babies come out of mommies, and sighed when he was really just obsessed with the biological facts of having two babies in your tummy at once and just how they wrestled their way out. He got over the babies in the house demands when I talked to him about stinky diapers and cranky parents from no sleep, less money to save up for Disneyland, and a lot less privacy.

He was over it, until, we walked into our yoga studio one sunny morning and two freaking adorable twin baby girls lay on their tummies on blankets in the front room with matching headbands. Now I have to play the "Mommy's too old" card.

After all, I will be turning thirty so it's a valid excuse, right??

Happy 2009

2009-01-13T14:35:00.000-08:00

Yes, I know I'm a little late on this one but give a girl a break, I barely survived the holidays. New year, new blog. Hope you like my new design and gadgets, still working with the kinks. Be sure to subscribe to my blog or come visit every Tuesday when I promise to post. To officially end 2008, I'm reprinting my Christmas Newsettler. Thanks for stopping by!

The Pollard Family's Top 8 of 2008

8. Shane (age 4) developed a severe allergy to the word NO. Be warned: use it at your own risk.

7. Bobby (age 5) played his first year of t-ball, making excellent dust piles in the outfield and smacking a few balls past the infield.

6. The Family ventured out to their first rain-soaked Monster Truck Monster Jam in Oakland with a huge group of friends. Although we had to leave early do to our soggy misery, we'll be going back at the end of February for another try to feed the boys' obsession with all trucks.

5. Kelly broke into two new writing markets, selling articles to Parent's Press and Bay Area Kids. She continues to write for local magazines, work on THE YA NOVEL (this year it will sell) and is the newsletter editor for California Writers Club, Tri-Valley.

4. Robbie left Waste Management in June for a new position. He's lovin it!

3. Bobby started Kindergarten where he's building up some serious self-esteem. Quotes heard spying on him alone in his room: "I am the most amazing kid my parents ever had!" and "Those kids are going to say, gee Bobby, you are a genius!" Stay tuned for more choice words from Mr. Ego.

2. Shane joined the pre-k class in preschool following in big brother's footsteps. He is finally shifting from "I can't!" to "Look what I did!" Ah, relief!

1. Kelly and Robbie have held on to their sanity navigating these early years with these boys who call themselves "The Naked Brothers Band" do to their preference to strip down the moment they walk in the door.

Stay tuned for another year of craziness and thanks for stopping by!

Feeling Grinch-y

2008-12-22T13:00:00.000-08:00

Oh, woe is my parenting life these past weeks. I'm talking about wound up boys with stashes of holiday candies and cookies, Christmas cards that I'm studiously avoiding, Santa visits at the mall that just won't happen this year, and unfinished shopping while time swirls away from me.

My one salvation this past week--books. Never mind how exhausted I was yesterday, recovering from a late night holiday party Saturday night. I was up until after midnight completely absorbed in an awesome book I recommend to any woman--The Friday Night Knitting Club. How nice was it to lose my own identity and get sucked in to the dramas and triumphs of these women? I read while my husband slept through boring television shows and my boys terrorized the house with their army of plastic trucks. I read while bathing the monster twins and after I collapsed into bed with all intentions of falling asleep to face today.

But then I couldn't put the book down. There is something to be said about books like this one and another phenomenal book, The Wednesday Sisters, that follows a group narrative. I love that switch of viewpoints, how some key scenes are played out from different perspectives. That is the book I would love to write. I'm sure any aspiring writer would like to craft that compelling of a story.

So, Grinch, I still feel...except for those stolen hours when I allowed myself a guilt-free escape from the holidays.

Extravagance

2008-12-10T09:42:00.000-08:00

There was an awesome essay by Brett Paesel, author of the book Mommies Who Drink, in the December issue of Parent's Press about reconciling the materialistic nature of the holidays with our own inborn guilt. She argued that if anything, and especially in these crazy economic times, the holidays call for extravagance. She hailed December as the one month out of the year where we allow ourselves and our children to indulge--in wishes, in food and drink.

It was a great perspective because I am the ultimate guilt carrier and feel like I'm constantly donating canned foods, toys for tots, money to churches and shelters to ease the burden of those less fortunate in the holiday season. Then I feel like a jerk if I secretly wish for a piece of jewelry or if I debate about splurging on a Nintendo Wii for my family. (people, I have serious Wii envy...my husband and kids could probably care less about owning one.)

It's a little late this year, but she suggested forgoing the little indulgences throughout the year...lunches and lattes, for example, and banking the fun money into a Christmas account. Then, we have all year to look forward to some Christmas magic.

Though I am sticking to a budget (somewhat), I can't help picking up an extra present or two for the boys. Of course, it seems like on the very day I do indulge in some extra Christmas magic for the little boogers, those are the days they act up, Shane has his high decibal meltdown in public and Bobby stubbornly refuses some mundane request.

Go figure.

Maybe I should just indulge myself instead. I think I need to check out Paesel's book, for one!

What I Haven't Written About

2008-11-21T14:18:00.000-08:00

It has been a long time since I made a stop over at my own blog. Why? Life at home (and at work) has been bursting with stories just waiting to be shared.

But I haven't written about the week-long escapade that was Halloween this season. I didn't write about the two school parties, the downtown trick or treating, or the half-ass costume party I had on Halloween night where I dressed up as a shabby looking princess and forced my husband to paint his face like Frankenstein. I definitely didn't write about (or post, until now) my mom and stepdad's scary show of humor dressing him up as Mom in the sixties. Notice the orange cheerleading sweater her husband wears. Yah, can't believe that hasn't made it onto the blog yet. In fact, I think I need to borrow that sweater myself.

I haven't written about how I had barely a weekend to catch my breath from Halloween to launch into Shane's 4th birthday week, including a birthday dinner at Chevy's where he refused to wear the sombrero when they sang to him; the preschool party at school where he protested the spooky rice krispy spiders I made to top his cupcakes; nor did I write about the 'real' party that next weekend at John's Incredible Pizza--which was, let's just say, not so incredible in my opinion.

I could go on about Bobby's first teacher conference for kindergarten, goony school portraits and the general malaise of bracing myself for the holidays, but I must save some material for the future.

But I promise, I'll try to post on a regular basis again. Thanks for reading!

Life Without Training Wheels

2008-10-27T12:34:00.000-07:00

I don't even know what is considered normal about taking the training wheels off, which is pretty crazy considering the amount of time I spend reading parenting articles.

Bobby's training wheel literally broke off last week so the boys helped their dad fix up both bikes, air up the tires, add a little elbow grease and Bobby assured us he was ready for the next step.

I remember when my parents removed the training wheels off my hot pink Barbie bike that had those really cool plastic streamers on the handle bars. I think I was a little older than Bobby and I wobbled up and down the sidewalk, crashing right into our neighbors Buick (?) on the street.

I'm not sure what I was expecting when Bobby tried out his bike. Fear, because Robbie said we should have him try in the backyard which you'll observe has a whole wall of hea- splitting retaining wall rocks. Bobby leaned a lot on his feet and cautiously started circling, crashing a few times into our house (no broken windows, thank goodness), into Shane who thought it was a race that he was miraculously winning for once, and into a bush.

Other than that, the transition was really anticlimactic. He had the riding down in less than ten minutes and my video taping resulted in some boring laps around the grass. Maybe we waited too long to take the training wheels off?

Most likely, I didn't want to see him grow out of them. It's already been a huge year with kindergarten starting and I don't know how much of my boys growing out of certain phases I can take.

Oh, The Horrors

2008-10-14T10:37:00.001-07:00

Quite the night of frights in our household last night....

Let me explain. Other than the normal Manic Mondays, I had my niece and nephew over after school until after dinner time. Their oh so lucky parents flew home from New Orleans last night...how I wish we could have traded places.

As the kids played in the back, finished homework and watched the Disney channel, I busied myself in throwing together a kid friendly dinner (Impossibly Easy Cheeseburger Pie anyone?) I shoved the casserole in the oven and started on chopping veggies for a quick salad.

Oh, I cringe even at the memory of this. Hold on while I pull it together here...

Okay. As I chopped away, a little friend darted across the top of my countertop and along the backsplash of the oven. Yes, a member of the mouse family that we've been waging war against the past couple weeks decided to come out and check out the dinner action. So, during this endless battle against the rodents from hell, I've realized that my fear of mice is borderline psychological phobia. What once my family, especially my husband, found endearing. Oh how funny, Kelly almost twisted her ankle when the mouse landed on her foot while taking out the garbage. Oh, chuckle chuckle, Kelly locked herself in the bathroom when the cat caught a mouse and batted it around the hallway while the kids slept unaware.... Now, it's just an annoyance. Now, it's more like, Kelly do something.

Well, my friends, I certainly cannot because the terror of these micro-monsters is really too much to take. Luckily, the very sharp knife I used to chop carrots was not in my hand at the time of my mouse trauma. I shrieked and ran down the hall. The kids came running in. I choked back the tears and took some deep yoga breaths.

And I did have my niece and nephew here to save the evening. (7th grader and sophomore). Clearly, I was worthless to this mouse escapade. But the poor baby mouse was trapped on the counter terrified and hiding behind my fruit bowl and cannister set. (Oh yuck--you better believe the disinfecting that went down later).

The kids (including my very thrilled sons who thought the baby mouse was so adorable and worthy of Pollard pet status) rigged up a box with a slice of cheese. Guiding the thing with a broom handle and trapping it with various kitchen gadgets, they somehow trapped him.

But what next? They wouldn't kill it; I wouldn't go near it. They definitely weren't keeping it no matter how freakin adorable it was to them. So, they released it on the fenceline. Yah, not the greatest solution. I'm sure he'll find his way back to his little mouse clan causing a ruckus in my attic.

And when my darling husband wandered in from work a bit later, his response: I guess we should put out some mouse traps.

Yah think?????

And my bad karma (maybe) for forcing the kids to let the mouse out near the neighbors house....

Shane broke the window in my office less than an our later with one firm swing of his plastic pumpkin.

For the record:

-this is the second major mouse incident this month, not counting the nightly rustling that tortures me while trying to read a book
-this is the second window Shane has broken this year--and lucky (?) us, at least it was the same window.

Rethinking Groceries

2008-10-08T13:58:00.000-07:00

Okay, the economy is kinda freaking me out. Add to that, my own writing income has gone way down as I've waded through the new world of grade school and the boys' very opposite school schedules these past weeks. The holidays lurk on the horizon, Halloween being the one I'm most concerned about and the extra money just isn't there this year.

So what do I do?

I sat down and listed all our expenses for a week. I knew this intrinsically, but gee, I drop a lot of dinero for groceries. And when my sis-in-law told me how she is boycotting our normal grocery store in favor of one across town due to way cheaper prices, my ears perked up. (Can ears perk?) I know I can do better and save, diligently clipping coupons and logging on to the various web sites that coordinate weekly coupons with sales...because, you know, I have a ton of free time and my boys just love getting dragged all around town to chase down a discount.

Ha.

On a whim, I dropped into a so-called discount grocery store in town that I usually avoid. This is usually robbed at gunpoint a couple times a year, so no, you won't find me there at night time. But curiosity and the need to live a more frugal life lured me to that side of town with Shane in tow.

First lesson: do not bring the boys.
This should go for all types of grocery trips, but especially this store, where the stock rotates and you must retrace steps and navigate the skinny aisles with eyes peeled for the brands you trust.

And why is it so discounted anyway? Sure, a simple internet search may have the answers, and I could spend even more time on that, but why? Another reason to fly solo was my eagle eye decoding of expiration dates...all good. Shane wasn't so patient by the time we reached aisle three.

All that matters to me (besides the logic of armed robbers holding up a discount grocer of all places), when we walked in, I saw our favorite brand of bread on display for 99 cents. Score!

My razor refills that I've been out of for longer than I'll ever admit, under $2.

Each aisle revealed a new discovery. A bag of softening avocados perfect for a dip; the boys yogurt drink, again, 99 cents. The milk and eggs weren't significantly cheaper, but the canned goods, box dinners and random cereal boxes certainly were.

I left with a full cart under 40 bucks, opposed to over 100 dollars at my 'other' store.

A New Favorite Blog

2008-10-06T13:42:00.000-07:00

I stumbled on this one through the YPulse newsletter that pops up in my inbox and distracts me from my writing (and cleaning) five days a week.

What Claudia Wore is really a genius blog topic. The writer plucks out some pretty hideous and hilarious outfits from the Ann Martin series The Babysitters Club. I think I owned over fifty of these books at one point. Kristy annoyed me, I related most to the quiet Mary Ann, Dawn was probably my favorite though it was cooler to like the 'hip' Claudia and boy crazy Stacey. Why did I get rid of these books? Please tell me I didn't dress the same way as these poor characters that I so idolized!

Why I Didn't Write

2008-10-03T09:36:00.000-07:00

The ants overtaking the kitchen pantry and waging ant wars inside the dishwasher...

The new routine on the road between schools...

CWC newsletter deadline looming...

Parenting article deadline come and gone...but I made it

The new Wii headache, that is to say, my sorry search for a Wii Fit for my sister's birthday. This game is proving more difficult to find than the Wii game console was last year at Christmas, but this, my friends, is material for another post.

Picking up books to read rather than working on my own (currently on my nightstand: The Historian and The Poet's Companion--both I highly recommend)

Fear of failure, more rejection...general creative doubt.

And remains of Shane's double ear infection that makes him sense the moment I sit at my computer to write and start shrieking for Mama cuddles.

So these are my excuses. I spent more time writing my excuses here than any creative writing time all week. This is troubling.

Sketch Musings

2008-09-25T10:12:00.000-07:00

My kids are a constant source of amazement to me. My newest fascination is the passion Bobby suddenly has for drawing. The kid goes through stacks of paper, sketching elaborate robots, dinosaurs, monsters and hot rods. Just months ago, in his preschool class, he was often forced to sit down to do the art projects. Now, I can't get him to play outside because he's too busy working on his latest 'book' of drawings.

Naturally, this poses a tiny problem with the vast amount of paper scattered about. As if it's not bad enough that I'm a writer and my office can barely contain my notes, outlines, drafts and files. It seems Mr. Bobby needs his own office at the rate he's going.

This drawing above is a few weeks old, but I marvel at it every time I find it in the stacks of paper shoved under the coffee table, in boxes or piled high on his desk in the playroom. How many of these drawings will disappear under the chaos of the boys' destruction? To me, this image is like poetry, like a record of Bobby's sudden learning curve in the art of creating.

And Week Four Begins

2008-09-16T17:01:00.000-07:00

The boys with Buzzy the Bee from Bobby's class

He got to take Buzzy home last week for good bee-havior

First of all, I've posted after a little hiatus on Eric Maisel's Creativity Central Blog.

So now, the Pollard household sets forth on week four of our new school year. I have to say that it's been a rough road with the boys in different schools and opposite schedules. Go carpool mommy! Today was our first day of dropping Shane off at preschool without him having his body-thrashing, please-leave-brother-here, meltdown.

Sheesh, after four weeks, I think we finally have some semblance of control over the school situation.

Why I Love the Valley

2008-08-26T14:29:00.001-07:00

Sometimes in the suburban sprawl of my everyday life, I long for a home surrounded by acres of forest in walking distance of a sparkling body of water. I curse the 580 traffic. Clench my fingers into my palms on the stop and go city commute to the boys' respective schools.

But as with most things in life, once I take a step back, or in this case, hundreds of steps up the (free!!) trails of Brushy Peak in Livermore, I see what I have from a rosier perspective.

Kindergarten!

2008-08-25T16:42:00.000-07:00

Bobby has been counting down to this day since he turned five back in April. He has been so pumped about starting school since I bought him his stylin 'Z-Strap' Sketchers and some new school clothes. I honestly didn't know how I'd react to this day. Surprisingly, no tears for me or Bobby. Shane, on the other hand, had a very tough time letting his brother go to a new school without him.

Shane cried so much that a lot of the parents thought he was the one starting kindergarten. It doesn't help that Shane is a giant. Well, we left Bobby to his very nice new teacher and one friend from his T-ball team last spring. After a few hours, and much prompting from Shane, we came back to get the beloved brother Bobby.

When Wishing Backfires

2008-08-07T15:20:00.000-07:00

I've been on a whirlwind reading frenzy the last few weeks. Just take a peak at my iReads icon on my facebook page. I'm juggling way to many books at one, then picking up new ones before I have a chance to finish the ones I'm halfway through.

On Monday, I blogged about Noelle Oxenhandler's new memoir "A Wishing Year" here (just scroll down to my post called Musing in the Valley Vineyards: On Wishing and Writing--not tech savvy enough yet to post the exact url!). The book jolted me back to that land of dreaming big. Oxenhandler had the courage to do it, so dammit, so can I!

A few nights after finishing her book, I spent a few minutes really articulating a few wishes. No, I'm not going to list them all here for the blogosphere to read. Somehow, they feel private. But it's no joke that I write and that I want to publish a book; that my manuscript is in a couple busy agents' hands and that I'm now plowing through a new historical-crossover-YA book using the Book In A Month workbook as a guide. Obviously one of my wishes is to get published, so I wrote it down in a specific way, as well as wishing for focus in my writing practice.

I don't know what it was, but I really have been focused. The last two mornings, I've packed up my laptop,i-pod and notes after dropping the boys off at preschool and have written twenty pages in two days. This is not normal for me. Most days I can squeeze out four, maybe five pages if the creative gods shine on my overcrowded head.

Last night I was feeling pretty sassy for my ten page writing streak that morning. With Robbie away playing hockey and the boys exhausted from swim lessons and nodding off at dinnertime, I rushed to clean up dinner and chill some beers in the freezer to lounge while watching the So You Think You Can Dance finale. (I know, my taste in television can be questionable but hey, it's summer programming!) Shane passed out at 7pm and Bobby was close behind him. As I finished my chores and opened a beer, what should happens.

POWER OUTAGE!!!!

I was calm and cool. I had 45 minutes til showtime and even if I didn't get the power back right away, the show lasts two hours so I was guarenteed to get my fill of dancing drama. I put the boys to sleep and read as the light faded outside, peeked out the window to make sure my house wasn't the only house on the street without lights shining through cracked blinds. It wasn't.

Night fell. Another half hour, then another. I lit candles and pulled out my laptop, with a near dead battery, by the way, and began the slow-going process of charting my scenes so far to check for the 'domino effect', assuring there are no holes or unnecessary scenes. Another half hour goes by. Now I'm starting to get pissed. This was supposed to be my night to lounge with my smut tv, without my husband home to glower that the A's game wasn't on instead, with the boys not wired from unspent energy.

I worked over an hour on my scene tracking just as the laptop faded to black. Just as I pulled out a notebook to scribble about the irony of the universe forcing me to work on my book instead of watch a tv show I've been looking forward to since, well since it was on last Thursday, the lights blinked back on. At 9:55 pm. By the time my satellite signal found my television, the show was summarizing the four dancers and their various routines. I missed every single dance routine.

But I got what I wished for. I found the holes in my novel and did this tedious task last night, rather than this morning where I instead started fresh on more new pages of the book. Wishes are strange beings.

Bisquick Adventures, Part 1

2008-07-31T17:18:00.000-07:00

I really wasn't joking about my new cooking adventure. Chatting with a (kid-free) woman in my tennis class last week, she told me she had baked a pecan pie. My mouth watered, eyes blazed with jealousy. I used to be her before the boys came into my world. How I loved perfecting the homemade pie crust, sending the screw-ups to Robbie's work to be devoured by his co-workers.

As each boy tumbled into the world, there was less room for the time spent flinging flour across the kitchen counter. Sure, I have my yearly attempt to create an awesome birthday cake, that normally results in a chaotic rendition of the boys' latest obsessions, be it trains or Scooby Doo. But baking for no occasion at all--not happening so much.

Last week I poked around the pantry to come up with something that would pass as a dinner for the family. I found the Bisquik and immediately remembered going to an aunt's house for the night and waking up to her rolling out homemade biscuits which she baked then set out with a flourish along with her own canned jams. How hard could it be?

It turns out, not so hard after all! It really is 'quik' to throw together the three ingredients. Kneading and rolling it out so much easier than the tempermental pie crusts of my past. The only problem being that I rolled out the dough a bit too thin, resulting in most of the finished products resembling hockey pucks or sugar cookies.

And how did the family react to my breakfast for dinner?

Bobby gobbled down three biscuits layered with butter, jam and honey. Shane insisted he only wanted peanut butter on a spoon for dinner and humored me briefly when I snapped shots of him preparing to take a bite. He never even tasted it.

So a mixed review. The boys still have yet to sample the bisquik chicken fingers, strawberry shortcakes and waffles. Stay tuned.

Cross-Bloggination

2008-07-27T17:29:00.000-07:00

Why not?

What better excuse not to work on the new manuscript but to journal online?

I am now among the many fabulous artists that contribute to Eric Maisel's Creativity Central blogs. Although I only committed to posting on alternating weeks, I plan to post more often. Which means I will also have to post more here to keep it fair. My brand for the Maisel blog is Musings Among Valley Vineyards, and will mainly have posts about the creative process, writing life, blocks and tiny victories. The Pollard boys will steal the show on this blog, so come by both blogs often and tell me what you think!

Look for my new series of posts later this week about my adventures with recipes on the back of the Bisquik box.

And no, I'm really not joking about that....

Of Mice and Little-Rebel Men

2008-07-11T09:21:00.000-07:00

The Pollard household is in chaos.

I blame the heat. The dog refuses to eat until late afternoon, the boys refuse to listen. There is the constant echo of name calling (Bobby, you a doodle-brain! Shane-y, you a poop!) And so my days roll out in endless heated waves behind me.

The boys thrash the house faster than I can pick up. I've confiscated full Lego sets and hot wheel racetracks, television time and superhero costumes. All because they refuse to put them where they belong. And of course, they don't even care! See the smoke blowing out of my overheated ears.

The climax of my all-time summer low came a couple days ago. After hours of playing referee and clean up, I finally jumped on much needed chores. Wiping down bathrooms and stripping beds, clearing out toys so I could run the vacumn. As I reached under the kitchen cabinet to combine the bathroom garbage with the kitchen's, a lethal mouse the size of a small dill pickle leaped onto my foot and scrambled in terror around in circles.

Of course, I didn't see where he disappeared to. You see, I was to busy screaming at the top of my lungs, knocking over the garbage can, running toward the back door, and losing my balance, slamming my knee and twisting my foot on the unforgiving cement floor.

The boys were amused.

I was crying and shaking. Who knew how terrified I was of a tiny little mouse. I did play Cinderella in a middle school play after all. I sang the Dream song to fake mice on stage, for goodness sake! Yet, we've had mouse issues before here in Pollardville. One noted example was after I put the boys to bed. Robbie was gone at a hockey game (do the mice plan on freaking me out by waiting for the man of the house to be gone????) As I walked down the hall with a load of laundry, our black cat came bounding in with a baby mouse in his vice grip teeth.

Luckily, I was close to the bathroom and did the only smart thing: I locked myself in there, hyperventilating and resting my forehead on the cool walls. I ventured a look out the door and the cat sat in the middle of the hall with a satisfied smirk, no remnants of the mouse remaining.

The rest of my night was spent dodging the cat, terrified of his mouse breath. Do I overreact a bit? Perhaps.

An old friend I message every once in awhile on facebook commiserated with me then sent me this link, saying at least this didn't happen:

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,378142,00.html

I couldn't agree more.

Now, I make Robbie deal with the garbage if at all possible. And if he doesn't, the kitchen cabinet gets a firm kick every time I go to toss something in the garbage, to give the little mouse time to escape into the wall before I open the door.

P.S. Don't suggest mouse traps. Yes, Robbie does set them and we even catch mice occasionally. Yet the sheer terror of hearing the tell-tale snap of a trap pushes me over the edge as well. I'd rather the mice family just stay hidden in the walls, but that's just me.

How Far We've Come

2008-07-02T07:23:00.000-07:00

Another milestone moment to open the month of July:

Just weeks after Bobby's very moving preschool graduation, complete with diplomas and gowns, we lived through another, more dreaded milestone...the five year old physical.

Most moms remember this check up years after they have survived it. I even remember my own 5 year appointment because it is defined by the attack of the vaccines to ready the poor, unsuspecting child for kindergarten.

I struggled with whether to tell Bobby the truth about receiving shots. Plenty of parenting magazines throw out advice on this topic, most leaning toward not 'fessing up about the upcoming pokes. Although guilt racked my body, I erred on the fib. When Bobby asked if there would be shots, I kind of shrugged my shoulders and played dumb, warning him that 'I believed' all 5 year olds needed shots to be allowed into kindergarten, but we could ask the Tickle Doctor the rules. This seemed to satisfy Bobby, though he obsessed over the shots the whole afternoon. (Another word of advice: I didn't even tell him about the appointment until just hours before so he didn't have time to dwell like his poor mother did.)

Driving to the office, my mouth watered and I eyed my grown up boy sadly in the rearview mirror. Doctor visits of our past welled up in my mind, especially those milestone visits where he was still a helpless baby with pleading eyes, looking at me like "How could you let him do that??" after another series of vaccines.

We made it through the physical with flying colors. Bobby even peed in a cup on demand--probably his favorite part of the visit! Then it was the wait for the medical assistant with that clattering tray of pain. When he walked in, Bobby's eyes grew as wide as dinner plates when he saw six shiny needles rolling around among the debris of cotton swabs and rubber gloves.

In the next room, a fresh newborn squalled with terror. You know that distinct newborn cry, more resembling the pitch of an alien than a chubby baby? Tears stung my eyes as I remembered the day Bobby came into this same office for the dreaded circumcision.

But in the now, I held this stronger, verbal version of Bobby in my lap as he tried to bolt for the door. I hugged his arms to my chest like a straightjacket and watched each needle pierce his milky skin with tears in my eyes. We managed to survive all six pokes without major bodily injury to any involved, though I was sure Shane would get thrashed in the mix of all the chaos. Then we emerged, teary-eyed, to retrieve stickers and zoom over to the all-healing McDonald's for an early Happy Meal dinner.

Relief flooded my body as Bobby and Shane jumped around the McDonalds playground like nothing had happened. We've come so much further than that grumpy, underweight baby that survived this ritual years before.

Summer Highs, Writing Lows

2008-06-24T16:31:00.000-07:00

June is the month of my rejection. Three rejections to be exact, with several more submissions drifting out in the abyss that is the world of publishing. It's common, since judging someone's writing and deciding if you are willing to take a risk is a pretty subjective experience. Not all of these were a rejection of the book, at least. One was a short story entered into a literary magazine contest, another a submission to a writing conference (no week-long writing escape for me this year!) and one was the first fifty pages of the novel, drenched in my blood-sweat-tears. Icing on the party cake was the shut-down of one of the regular magazines I wrote a column for.

No, this is not a pity party. This is more like a reckoning with my writing life. Am I strong enough to keep putting myself out there? Should I shelve the book and start a new one? Concentrate on magazines or newspapers? Get a (eek!) real job?

Of course this all happens a couple weeks after the boys' preschools have us send in what summer hours they will attend, if any. I kept them in for the same three half days a week, thinking it would be good to keep them in a routine and that I had a right to some sanity and writing time. Now dollar signs are flashing in my head.

It will be interesting to see where I find myself at summer's end...

Confessions of a Reformed Mommy

2008-06-04T20:10:00.000-07:00

I turned into one of those moms that I secretly talked smack about while my boys were still cooing and crawling about in pools of their own drool. I became one of those moms that buckled in the name of convenience. Convenience over common sense.

Yes, for months, I had a television in the boys' room.

This was not a decision without resistance. My sister has had a tv in her daughters' room (complete with cable!) for years. We let the boys lay in our bed and watch tv on those nights when we have company and it's just easier to let them drift off to a nice movie instead of dealing with the constant requests for more milk and midnight snacks. My husband convinced me it would be temporary, we'd just put the tv in there for one particular weekend when we had a lot of company and older kids playing video games in our room while the adults watched some play off sports.

What the heck has happened to the former Santa Cruz student who believed tv was evil and went years without cable, instead favoring friends and radio music and board games?

Anyways, that weekend with the tv in the room stretched into months. I vowed to move the monstrosity into the playroom once we had the masses of toys organized. Ha! I vowed until I was out of breath, yet took no action.

Until this afternoon.

Since the tv in the room, the bedtimes have stretched later. The tv viewing times have stretched longer and the book reading has dwindled. I became someone I never thought I would be. The tv truly became my babysitter.

Last night when I got home from my tennis lesson (yes honestly, don't laugh about the tennis...that's another post in itself) past 9 pm the boys ran rampant demanding another two hour Scooby Doo movie. As if!

I finally got them corraled into bed and payed dearly this morning when I had to get them up for preschool. I literally dragged Bobby out of bed at 8:20. Mind you, school started at 8:30. A morning of orders barked, faces wiped and limbs shoved into clothing ensued. And the whole drive to school involved a breathless, pissy lecture about the evils of television before bedtime.

When I picked them up from school hours later, I had them help me clear out space in the playroom for the tv. We dusted and hooked up the various parts and said goodbye to nighty-night tv.

Thanks to my succumbing to the easy way out of bedtime, which turned out not to be so easy after all, I now have to retrain myself, my husband and my kids how to go to bed the right way.

And yes, Shane is still up instead of in bed with his stack of books, riding his scooter around the house like a banshee.

It's going to be a long week...

Adventures in Poetry

2008-05-30T09:46:00.000-07:00

In my quest of procrastination this week, I logged off from the net temporarily and picked up a stack of unread books on my shelf in order to expand my mind. I blew through The Alchemist, started The Travel Writer's Handbook and picked up a collection of poetry I bought at a writing event a few months back.

Once I picked it up, I couldn't put it down. I read through the entire 128 pages in one sitting and the images in the collection still won't leave me alone.

I'm talking about 'what is this thing called love' by Kim Addonizio. This is one cool chick, first of all. I met her at a workshop and she was so real and funny and honest. Her poetry isn't any different, just many layers deeper. After reading her collection, I honestly can't think of poetry the same way anymore.

I admit I am not a poet anymore. Oh, fear the day I scan some of my old poems from high school onto my facebook page! I studied the 'classics' in college but never ventured too far into modern poetry. Maybe that's why I'm so blown away by this little book. It turned everything I believed about the art on its head. Any poet that has a poem titled FUCK and actually pulls it off with an important message is one to pay attention to, in my opinion.

In the different sections, she touches upon love, dying and losing love, addictions and ghosts of the past. It's one of those collections I'll have to visit again to understand even the surface of what she puts out there. It is a collection that caused me to add more poetry collections to my list of requested books on bookmooch.com.

It is a collection that won't leave my head and let me work on my deadlines.

Taming the Monster

2008-05-28T15:08:00.000-07:00

My name is Kelly and I will finally admit that I'm seriously addicted to the internet.

I had hours today to work on articles due this Friday, hours when the boys were in school, even after I picked up Shane from school and spent some quality time with him, I gained another hour of freedom until I have to pick up Bobby from his field trip.

Words written today: nada, unless you count the sentences above.

Phone calls to sources placed: 2 out of approx. 5 needed

Shower: nope

Dishes: Ha!

Car wash: yeah right

Bathing suit shopping: check

Hours spent online, pretending to research when really just browsing blogs, gossip on what the gals wore to the Sex and the City premiere, facebook, myspace and email: hmm, close to 3 if I added them up

Somebody please cut me off

On the job dangers

2008-05-27T11:19:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it is just plain dangerous to be a writer. My Friday deadline has me immersed in the world of direct sales and home parties as a way to make a second or part-time income. For the last few hours, I have swam in web-copy about the potential earnings of consultants for Avon, Pampered Chef, Discovery Toys and PartyLite candles. I've researched the Direct Sellers Association and learned how to choose a company that will guide you to marketing success. I've learned about how to host a Passion Party and teach my friends and neighbors how to enhance their sexual enjoyment.

And Lord help me, it almost looks tempting. Wouldn't say I'm exactly cut out for the sex party hostessing, but the educational toys? Perhaps...

Preschooler Moons Teacher During Circle Time!

2008-05-15T16:14:00.000-07:00

Honestly, why me?

I was not in the greatest frame of mind when I showed up at the boys' school to pick them up. I was feeling sickly and my morning writing session did not go well and am majorly blocked in an important subplot in the new novel (yeah, I know, the old novel isn't published yet...but that shouldn't stop me from working on a new one!)

Bobby's preschool teacher gave me the look, the 'I need a word with you' look.

"We had an incident today during circle time. Bobby got up in the middle of me talking and pulled down his pants and mooned me and the whole class [I'm envisioning him turning in circles like a little penguin to give all his girlfriends full view] and he was sent to the office [oooh!] and I expect you to talk to him about this behavior."

How embarassing! How horrible!

So freaking hilarious though.

I texted my friend Mel and she just laughed and basically intoned: gee, I wonder where the lad learns this kind of behavior?

Well! I don't know what she's trying to imply, by I'd never drop my drawers in the check out line at Safeway. I mean, really.

Then Shane, not to be outdone, walked straight into a birch tree trunk on the way into the library while I was giving Bobby 'the talk'.

"Now, you know why we can't pull down our shorts at school right?"

But Mommy, I did not know I could not do that. Andy told me to do it and if I didn't do it then Andy was going to yell real loud during circle time so I had to do it!

"So you were also talking and being disruptive while Ms. Paula was teaching?"

No, just whispering really quietly and I will never show my butt to Ms. Paula again...

SMACK!

Shane's forehead slams into tree-trunk,

That's something he definitely inherited from me...

Religious Orientation: Fill in the Blank

2008-05-14T13:42:00.000-07:00

I had an a-ha moment of sorts late last night when I was playing with my new Facebook profile (I'm sure I'll comment more on that later). Like Myspace, which I joined sometime last year to keep an eye on my teenage niece, you create a profile where you list interests, favorite books, music, you post pictures, blogs and can search for old friends and leave comments. Facebook is the supposed 'more mature' networking site out there and a girlfriend encouraged me to check it out since she found a lot of old friends who must have thought Myspace too juvenile to join...

Wow, I guess I did make a long comment on facebook/myspace..

So as I filled out my profile, I came to the inevitable religious question. I didn't think much of it for my Myspace profile, but on facebook, it seems like every thing you fill out potentially connects you to a 'network'. The website will search your network for friends with the same interests and voila, you make even more friends, which I guess is the whole point of the social network. (duh there)

But my religion is complicated. Baptized Catholic with a smattering of church visits in my childhood, I eventually stopped the journey toward church-guided salvation before I hit my teens. Through college, I dabbled in various world religious texts. Yoga opened my mind to other ways to encompass spirituality, so let's just say, I can't be categorized. So i wrote: Open-Minded for my Orientation (religious and otherwise, I suppose). Alas, I belong to no network. I didn't want to write atheist, because I don't consider myself that. It just struck me late last night that I really don't have an affiliation and I'm kind of jealous to those that do have that group that embrace those same spiritual beliefs.

What if I want to just scrape a bit from the Buddhists, a dash of Judaism, extremely minimal amount of Christianity, some hinduism...then where does the whole new-agey New Earth/Secret/Law of Attraction propaganda fit in?
I'm so mixed up. And I'm extremely bummed I didn't find my own network. I guess it's back to facebook to browse the writer's networks.

That should be fun...

Pollard Favorites

2008-05-13T10:54:00.000-07:00

I'm noticing us Pollards are turning quite stubborn in our tastes and habits this month. It's borderline ridiculous....

Shane's

*SOUP --breakfast, lunch and dinner if he could have his way. top ramen, chicken and stars, dora chicken and noodle, shrek or cars chicken and noodle, it could be 1000 degrees outside and the kid would still be screaming for hot soup! Any soup but the homemade variety, of course.

*TRUCKS-some things never change-monster trucks, pick-ups, tractors, hot rods, big rigs, fire trucks, tow trucks, truck books and movies and blah blah blah, why am I surrounded by so many boys that love trucks? Gee, you can't tell their father is a mechanic or anything.

Bobby's Faves

*TOYS-this is another ridiculous favorite. Coming off the birthday season, he seems to think every day warrants a trip to the store to spend birthday money (now looooong gone) on yet another toy: Transformers, trucks, cars, Pokemon, etc.

*HIS GARDEN-harvesting radishes, which he won't eat, as we speak. Eagerly waiting on tomatoes, carrots, cantelope, squash, lettuce, pumpkins, watermelon and whatever other seeds Bobby threw in the mix

My Faves

*NEUROTIC READING HABIT-my vow to not buy or check out any library books has turned me into quite the book nerd. I am determined to alternate genres with each book I finish, mostly from fiction to nonfiction, though that can change. Just finished Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen, which I flew through--makes me want to write a historical fiction novel, I was so swept away. Now I'm tackling Buddha Never Was a Parent, Jesus Never Drove a Carpool, recommended by a beauty of a yoga teacher who seems like she's the most centered mommy on earth. The author tackles a variety of religious ideas and incorporates them into her 'Parenting with Soul' philosophy. This book is killing me because I'm supposed to only read one chapter a week so I can incorporate a new practice weekly (this week, three deep breathes at those many moments when I want to explode--like when Shane colors his leg with a Sharpie for example...wait, that was last week, I actually did explode, but finally, the ink has washed off) I digress...so now I'm breaking my other neurotic reading rule, which is to only read one book at a time. So I just dove into a new YA novel and it feels deliciously sinful.

*2am OBSESSING-I think I'm trying to break some kind of record here. Usually, I am not one of those insomniac types that needs a warm milk and melatonin to drift off to sleep. Usually I don't wake up in the middle of the night, quietly obsessing over agent submissions, writers conferences, article deadlines or kindergarten registration. Usually it's the boys that interrupt my sleep. I believe I'm going on five days now of being exhausted from thinking way too much in the wee hours. What do I do???

Rob's Faves

(usually I don't write about the hubby since he actually knows how to read, unlike my boys, who I can still torture by telling their stories, but I'm sleep-deprived and really don't care!)

*HOCKEY--we are into the summer season, which means hockey games two nights a week for the lucky guy.

*OAKLAND A'S--note to self, must by baseball tickets for a nice father's day present for the guy.

See, I was nice to Rob. Isn't he lucky?

Surviving May

2008-05-12T09:16:00.000-07:00

This is my month of chaos. Six birthdays in a matter of three weeks, including my mom's, son's and mine. Mother's Day. Over the top birthday planning for Bobby's big 5th birthday. One Transformer cake and a wooden play structure that took my husband and very generous brothers close to eight hours to build. Now I wake up refreshed this morning, the day after Mother's Day, total relief.

No more present shopping, no more lost birthday cards, no more urging my sons to sign yet another card, no really, just one more! The May madness is finally left behind. Usually I feel let down, usually my birthday and Mother's Day get kind of pushed together into one not-so-celebratory whole. This year, not really... I even had my own night, a night to toast a new year with my family. This year, I was at peace. This year will be my last in my twenties. This year my grandpa sent me a check urging me to buy red shoes to go with my red purse (thanks grandpa! still woefully behind on thank you cards obviously...)

Finally, I was able to wake up today and take a deep breath, knowing nothing was expected of me other than the everyday mother duties. Meals and scrubbing children and home clean. Today, we can sit out in the yard and enjoy the sunshine, the boys swinging away on their new playground, me chilling out with a new book. Yay!

Or me, urging Bobby and myself to pen some magnificently late thank you cards...

A New Earth...for Kelly

2008-05-01T14:29:00.000-07:00

I must have struggled with Eckhart Tolle's book the most I have ever struggled through reading a piece. Usually, if it is that hard, I just close the book and pass it on to someone I think will appreciate it more. But all the hype about "A New Earth" kept dragging me back. FINALLY I finished the spiritual-new agey thing last night and here's my take:

1. I can see why Oprah loves this, why she's taken it on as her latest mission in spreading world peace, better for humanity kind of thing. Kind of like what she did with The Secret.

2. I don't think your average reader will be able to get through this on his own. The reading is very dense, very out there, yet also, very repetitive. Hence the reason it took me so long.

3. That said, I totally believe in the message Mr. Tolle is trying to spread. Using texts from Christianity (a lot of Jesus quotes), Buddhism, Taoism, Judaism, he basically says all world religions really carry the same underlying message: if you are totally present and conscious during the moment, the transformation within will be spectacular. If you transform, you in turn, will transform the world.

4. So I loved the last 40 or so pages where he really gets to the meat of what he's saying. We must be present, live only for the moment--not the future, definitely not for the past. How do we do this? By our attitude toward the present moment. If it is a difficult moment, we feel acceptance. Because each moment is fleeting. If the moment is mundane (i.e., folding six loads of laundry while your sons' try doing body slams into the mountains of clean clothes with their greasy bodies), you 'enjoy' the moment. Because this moment is beautiful and fleeting--soon they will be too old, they will be out of the house, you won't even be doing the laundry anymore... Then Tolle zones in on the highest level of presence: enthusiasm:

"Enthusiasm means there is deep enjoyment in what you do plus the added element of a goal or a vision that you work toward."

Then he goes on (and on and on, man this guy can ramble and repeat sometimes) that although you are working toward something, it's so important to remain in the present moment, not looking forward to something in the far off future.

Of course this makes sense to me as a writer/aspiring novelist. The goal and vision is there: to see my name on the spine of an awesome book. The road toward that goal is perpetually endless. (How many agents have I submitted to already?) But if I take Mr. Tolle's advice, I wouldn't focus on the future, but on the actual moment when I am writing or editing or submitting or waiting ENDLESSLY for a response from another so-called dream agent. If I am present in the moment of all this, my energy will be enthusiastic and positive which will shine in that finished product.

Ah, easier said than done.

So that's just my take on the Tolle book. Now I shall head over to the Oprah website to see what the girl has to say about it...

I'm Seeing Red

2008-04-03T14:16:00.000-07:00

What is it with me and all things red?

First, there is my tendency to blush or flush at inopportune moments.

Then my love affair with my newer red vacumn that I bought last year at an actual 'vacumn store', how housewifey is that?

Now I have the purse, the purse that instigated the first argument with my husband in a very long time.

It all started on a day of pampering when I visited my girlfriend's salon in Rockridge to get my hair colored and cut. I had an upcoming deadline to find cool products for my 'Let's Pamper Mom' column for the May issue of a local magazine. Kate promised to show me some shops in the area where I might find products to feature.

The first shop was called "Who's Your Betty?" on College Avenue. It featured funky purses and jewelry, accessories and such, most hand crafted. I fell in love with a purse way out of my price range. Red and sparkling, with silver studs lining the outside and a soft leopard print lining on the inside, handstitched by the owner of the store. Of course I had forgotten my camera. I was in a what-the-hell kind of mood, and with Kate's encouragement, I bought the purse way out of my price range.

I didn't tell my husband about it, though I showed it off to my sisters and peeked into the shopping bag where it hid through the weekend. Then hubby found it, complete with the $90 pricetag. And he found it Easter morning as I rushed to get ready and get the boys ready to go to the in-laws for the morning. I heard him ranting about something in the front room...I knew I was totally busted.

But more than ranting, he 'ordered' me to return the purse. I stewed in my quiet way to his parents house and he continued to bitch. Eventually we told the in-laws who told me to stand up for myself (something I need to work on, for sure) and that I earned money and I deserved to treat myself.

The purse stayed in the bag another few days.

Then, I took it out. Carefully transferred the cell phone, business cards, wallet and lipglosses into its leopard printed depths.

"I guess you decided to keep the purse," he mumbled later that night when we were out at my sister's house.

I smiled and patted the soft vinyl sparkles. My family teases me that it looks like Dorothy's ruby slippers, its so sparkly. Kate told me I needed matching red shoes to compliment the rogue purse. I'm thinking it's time for a nicer wallet...

Beauty of Change

2008-03-13T14:14:00.000-07:00

Changes have been fast and furious in this chaotic Pollard household. How do I count thy ways?

1. The Contra Costa Times stopped publishing the sections I wrote for the past year, leaving me scrambling to find new markets to at least support that hefty preschool bill for the two boys.

2. Tee-ball! Bobby joined the Livermore Diamondbacks, the very youngest t-baller on the team and so adorable to boot. If only he could figure out that you are supposed to run to first base (not third!) when he makes those power hits.

3. Kindergarten registration! Yes, Bobby will be charging into a new school this fall. I'm excited and anxious and trying to control myself from joining the PTA...like I have the time for that...

4. Squaw Valley Writers: I've made the decision to apply for this week-long, highly regarded (and waaay out of my budget, though I have the most supportive husband a girl could wish for) writer's conference. They only accept 96 fiction writers based solely on the 20-odd pages of unpublished writing you submit. If accepted, I get to spend a week in Tahoe mingling with some of my writing idols (hello Anne Lamott and Amy Tan!) while sharpening my writing skill and hopefully finishing my second book. Which means...I need to dive into the new book. The first young adult novel is sitting in nice stacks in my office as I await feedback from a couple friends before I do final revisions and really, truly start submitting to agents again.

5. Shane. Okay, I feel guilty because I really have nothing to report that's majorly changed in his world. He still drives his trucks and tractors in the dirt...therefore loves the teeball fields. He's hit the Terrible Tantrum-Infused Threes full force and is lucky he is so darn adorable.

I'll try to keep you all updated on the fun and fabulous adventures of the Pollard family.

Endless Christmas Wish List

2007-11-16T08:25:00.000-08:00

I made the mistake of telling Bobby that Christmas was coming soon. As if he wouldn't figure this one out, considering Costco had their Christmas decorations on display in September. Bobby was feeling left out after his little bro's birthday and wanting it to be his birthday. I told him Christmas would come way before April, so if he saw a toy he wanted, to add it to his Christmas list.

Big mistake.

Picture one of those neverending scrolls winding its way through the halls of my house. Picture the sad coincidence of the boys switching their favorite television channel from Nick Jr. (almost no commercials) to Cartoon Network (almost all commercials!) and you may see where I am going with this. Every friggin commercial features the latest and greatest monster truck-tool workshop-Baby Alive-Road Rippers-Princess tea set-video game-hot wheels race track-Transformers-and on and on and on.... Bobby wants it all added to the list.

I humor him most of the time. Of course he doesn't know how to write, so I'm expected to add these things to a list. But does he really want the Dora beauty shop? My husband would have a heart attack if that made its way under our tree Christmas morning. I think not. If he busts me for not adding another toy, I tell him I have my own list in my brain.

Besides the commercials, the Sunday ads are another source for the growing list, but something Bobby can take a more active role with. When we received the Toys-r-us Big Toy Book, both boys went crazy over the pages of toys that they think will all magically appear under the tree. I gave Bobby a fat marker and told him to circle everything he liked, emphasizing that Santa can only fit one big present in his sleigh and that he can ask for smaller presents from Mommy and Grammy and Grandma and Aunties.... But that some presents would be a surprise, something so cool that he didn't even know existed. He got busy for nearly a half hour (a long time for this boy to sit still) and was surprisingly selective.

Now, my husband and I must decide exactly what Santa will bring Christmas morning, something hand picked from the scroll.

And Grammy called last night to say she just got the JCPenny's Christmas catalog in the mail. The boys are going over there today to add to the list...

Maybe I'll circle some things for myself too.

2007-11-07T14:03:00.001-08:00

Alright, so it isn't a Picasso or anything, but Shane sure got a kick out of his own Mystery Machine!

The party was a blast for all, if I do say so myself, except for the fly invasion into our home that ended with a bizarre twist. We started the party in the afternoon, and as the evening progressed, and the kid party ended and the adults carried on, we noticed that the flies had finally disappeared.

Then me looked up at the ceiling...

Ack! Dozens of full-bellied, heated, weary flies slept lethargically on our popcorn ceiling. It was the most disgusting thing I have ever witnessed. Perhaps I exaggerate a little, but it really was something else. My husband had the thankless task of eliminating the pests since smashing bugs turns my stomache. My sister-in-law, Dana, had a better idea. He busted out the shop-vac and spent the next half hour sucking up flies and the house was finally clear. A great, non-gory method of death.

Shane only had one temper tantrum, when his first present was NOT a front loader, but a brand-new, sweet, big-boy bike from his grandparents. And he only suffered one injury, a welt below his eye that must have been the monster truck jump house's doing. In all, the birthday was a success and I didn't suffer any meltdowns, though I came close when my vacumn broke a mere hour before the guests were to arrive. But that, is another story that I am saving for my next Suburban Queen column for Valley Lifestyles Magazine...

Halloween and Birthdays and Sugar, Oh My!

2007-11-01T14:32:00.000-07:00

I think we have survived the chaos that is Halloween. This used to be my favorite holiday. Who doesn't love scheming to dress up as someone else for a day? I admit my admiration for the holiday of ghouls has dwindled as I have grown into my role as a mom. Quite simply, Halloween equals an overload of candy. We're talking bucketfulls of the stuff of every type. Chocolates and taffy and lollipops and candy corn...

I allow the boys to indulge in a few pieces, then the fallout is a hyper, screeching, tantrum-fueled monstrous duo for the next hour or two. Not to mention the temptations around my house are too much and end up straight on my thighs. Nevermind that candy can be used as bribery against my little sugar demons. Even if I can convince them to clean up the hurricane of trucks and train tracks for a handful of Reeses, I still end up suffering through havoc as a result of their sugar buzzes.

Of course their costumes were adorable; Shane the cuddly Scooby Doo of his latest obsession (costume borrowed) and Bobby a creepy alien from the cheap Walmart rack. Score! I spent more money on my husband and myself this Halloween for costumes (policeman and convict). After visits to two pumpkin farms, one corn maze, a downtown trick or treat, two adult costume parties and a stint of trick or treating in our neighborhood last night, my sigh of relief echoes throughout the valley.

Too bad Shane's birthday party is less than two days away. I was so wrapped up in Halloween that I neglected the weeks-ahead party planning frenzy, but maybe that's a good thing. As of today, the monster truck jump house is reserved, the deli tray ordered, and the pressure is on for me to whip up another masterful cake creation. Hopefully this one won't end up drowned in my tears like Shane's first birthday party....

To go along with the Scooby Doo theme, I'll be attempting a Mystery Machine cake. I found several versions on the internet. I think I might be able to pull it off. As long as I don't have to clean the house, take care of the kids, set out party foods, weave streamers throughout the house and blow up three dozen balloons. It's a tall order, so stay tuned...

I'm Baaaack! (I think...)

2007-10-25T10:50:00.000-07:00

This being my first post since April, right before Bobby's fourth birthday, I'll keep it brief and to the point. I had to step away from my commitment to blogging. Not that I was exactly religious about posting in any kind of regular manner. My last few months of blogging were sporadic at best. But I keep getting gentle nudges from writing friends and distant family members who want to check out what is going on in my life. I've talked about picking up the blog wand for over a month now, but have yet to post. At this moment, I'm supposed to be working on my book, or tracking down quotes for my travel article about Point Reyes...yet, here I am.

So here is a brief summary of life in my world right now:

Shane is a week away from turning three (yikes!) and almost potty trained. Farewell to diapers for-eva! He is still obsessed with tractors, trucks, cars, and anything else with wheels. Add Scooby Doo to his obsession list as well.

Bobby is 4 1/2. He refuses to cut his coarse hair because he says he wants 'Guitar Hero' hair. Of course he is referring to the addictive video game that my family and friends play almost nonstop when the newest version comes out. I can play 'Ziggy Stardust' on medium level, thank you very much. But back to Bobby. He is learning and growing and scaring me to death with how devilish and clever he is becoming.

Both boys started preschool two days a week this September and love it. Bobby is the class clown, which is charming and challenging since he can't stop his one man comedy routine while the teacher is running circle time.

I've been writing a lot more for local newspapers and magazines. I am at the point now where I am learning to pitch stories that really interest me. I am trying to exercise my 'No' button, since that seems to be a terminal problem of mine. My YA manuscript is still lurking in my computer and filing cabinet and I am hoping to have the latest revision back in the mail to a dozen agents next month. I'm losing count on how many revisions I've done on this piece but I have decided that this will be the last one. I have done all can for my character Ashlee and her suburban world. If it is meant to be published, it will happen. If not, I think I am okay with that and ready to move on.

So, I'm back to the blog. Check every week or so for updates on life with the boys, life in front of the computer screen, and life as a suburban queen. Feel free to send lots of comments and forward blogs to moms or writers or friends who might be interested. There are a ton of blogs out there. I hope mine will be a regular stop for you!

Camilla

2007-03-26T09:07:00.000-07:00

Who can decipher the mind of a toddler? More importantly, where the heck do they get those off the wall sayings?

Bobby, who is creeping up on age four, now so definitely not a toddler anymore, is the classic example. I can't remember when his obsession with Camilla started. I guess it would help if I blogged more about their happenings instead of writing about other things.

Who's this chick Camilla, anyway?

You know that sinful, gooey stuff called Easy Cheese, that sprays liked whipped cream out of a can on your cracker of choice? The one my friends call Sleazy Cheez? Well, for whatever reason, Bobby started calling it Camilla when he was around two years old. The name has still stuck. We see it in the store and even now, at four years old, it's the same plea:

"Mom! We need to buy some Camilla BECAUSE!"

It's more of a demand than a question, which doesn't work so well in my book.

My parents started his love affair with Camilla and they are sure to have it every time the boys stay overnight, whenever they come out to babysit. Camilla is a requirement. Camilla is his first love obsession....with cheese.

OFF WITH HIS HAIR!

2007-01-10T20:02:00.000-08:00

My scrappy, hippy boy became a little man this morning. I dreaded it. Avoided. Pushed back the first real haircut for more months than I should have. People began to mistake him for my little daughter. And I still waited. I read an essay I wrote at an author's reading called "Boys Boys Boys" all about my denial that he is my second son and that I can't bring myself to cut his hair. The awareness was there, but still I waited.

His blonde wisps crawled past the collar of his striped shirts. I constantly wrestled his bangs away from his eyes, but his hair was so fine no gel could hold it in place. Last night, as I cuddled him in his new big boy bed, sweeping my fingers through his goldilocks that are now dimming to the same brown as his big brothers.

This morning, with no fan fare, no witnesses save one snoring dog, I took the clippers to the back of his head, used the #4 length, and brushed the hippy-girlishness right off of him. I expected a fight from him. But I guess I had fought so much internally, there was no reason for him to. He sat still, chomping on an orange. Probably, he was relieved to be what he should be. A little boy. Mommy's little boy.

Two Mall Monsters

2006-08-30T14:16:00.000-07:00

I'm what you'd call one of those impulsive mommies, jumping into a lot of things on a whim, with no preparation involved. I guess the philosophy behind this is no excessive preparation equals no disappointment when my plans fall through...which happens soooo much living with these two little vermin smearing play dough all over my carpet.

So I woke up this morning and did my usual morning routine. Big Bear from a certain Disney show the boys like calls this the morning mambo. Mine is this:

Roll out of bed to attend to screaming, soggy toddler climbing out of crib.

Change diapers; fill sippy cups.

Crawl onto couch and put on The Wiggles Show and bide my time until the whole breakfast, make lunch for hubby routine is pushed on me.

Attach IV of coffee to arm and walk out to driveway with ratnest hair and desperate housewife bathrobe for the newspaper (my neighbors must love this).

Turn to the horoscope page and seal my fate for the day...

which brings me back to this morning and a certain whimsy in my soul. I had a coupon getting ready to expire for a portrait studio and the knowledge that I haven't had the boys' pictures done in over a year. I had coordinated silky button up dress shirts that actually fit them, although it makes them look like hustlers (or golf pros)...and absolutely no plans for the day.

My Taurean fate for the day was this: A three out of five star day, pretty normal for me. And astronomer Eugenia Last (who never misses the mark on my day forecast): Nothing should deter you from following through with your plans. You can make fabulous changes that will ensure your success.

Well hot damn!
It was off the the photo shoot with the fellas!

Except, I only have two hands to contain two other sets of hands and feet. And no appointment...although, that's never stopped me before. And no extra money to speak of since my wild and expensive (wildly expensive?) girls' weekend a few days ago.

(Check out http://www.myspace.com/withtwoboys for evidence of my naughty ways.)

But I went for it anyway because Shane's hair is adorably long and blond surfer style. And Bobby is starting preschool in two weeks, yet another milestone I cannot wait for. Bring on the pictures!

Wouldn't you know, I headed to Walmart first with my two men dressed in their finest and several bribes in my back pocket (cookies, crackers, promises for a picnic in the park)... We strolled in right at opening with a young girl with a dazed look on her face manning the small portrait studio inside. There is a reason, folks, Walmart only charges $8 for approximately 3000 photos, which I soon discovered. After waiting patiently as possible with two boys climbing chairs and swiping at computer keyboards while she searched for the appointent book, answered two personal phone calls, and finally invited them to sit in front of the neutral background, the girl spent another five minutes posing them and making strange clucking noises that were supposed to induce giggles, but instead terrified Shane. She finally leaned over the massive camera and announced:

"It's broke. And I don't know how to work it."

My jaw dropped. She continued:

"I mean, I could take their pictures, but they'd be kinda blurry soooo you probably don't want to waste your time." Nervous giggle followed. Indeed. Like I'd been standing in that lobby for close to thirty minutes, but let's not waste anybody's time.

So I packed the nearly rebelling boys back into the shopping cart to cruise Walmart and pick up some things in the hopes she'd pull it together and figure out how to work the camera.

Long story short...

I coasted by awhile later after Bobby almost knocked down a whole display of vacumn cleaners and Shane's eyes were puffed out from crying for an Elmo toy and she was still standing by the camera scratching her head.

But Eugenia Last said nothing should deter me! She used the word FABULOUS and SUCCESS in one sentence. I would not fail.

I raced to the nearest mall, balancing my cell phone up against my ear, trying to make an appointent with another studio, the one I actually had the coupon for in the first place. And indeed, my astronomer waved her fairy dust over us and got me an appointment fifteen minutes later.

And the lobby had a tv/vcr furnished with Disney movies to entertain the boys with while I did paperwork....

And the photographer was an adorable girl that actually got the boys to laugh and sit still. I contemplated stuffing her in the back of my minivan to be my live in nanny.

And the pictures turned out awesome.

And I didn't go completely overboard or out of budget when ordering.

SUCCESS!!!

Besides the havoc left in our wake when we exited the mall. Shane somehow got grease all over his hands, dress shirt, and half of the chairs in the lobby. Both boys slimed the rest of the chairs with their lollipop hands and cracker crumbs.

But I got their pictures done and it's ALL good.

You must be wondering how I have the time to write such a LONG post. I scored again because both the boys are napping in sync! YAY!

Broken Cameras and Invisible Words

2006-07-27T22:15:00.000-07:00

My fancy shmancy digital camera has been broken for almost two months now and my boys are transforming before my eyes with nothing to capture their lives unfolding and forging ahead.

And, where I used to write weekly about their maddening hold on my world, the delightful and frustrating mini dramas that are my days and nights that blend together, I just realized that I haven't posted a blog in months, and the last one was careless and shallow at best.

The boys are growing up and I am failing them.

Like today, in the record breaking heat in the hotlands of suburbia, I followed the boys into the yard after spraying them down with sunscreen. Bobby in his Superman briefs that revealed a dark tanline across its tight waistband and his newly buzzed hair. Shane, with his thicker body and too tight Nemo swim diaper with the matching accentuated tanline. When they were just cackling and racing their trucks around the yard and pushing their slide up into the already too warm wading pool...and I was too exhausted to capture the moment. Too tired to really be in the moment. I just sat at the table with my fourth cup of coffee, in my torn Garlex Pizza shirt, a robot of a mom, chiming in with the occasional nags: Don't throw dirt at the fence. Give Shane the truck. Do you have to go potty, Bobby? Stop hurting my flowers. Are you sure you don't have to pee?

Blah blah blah.

And yet they were so vibrant and handsome, with their pre-Apollo body builds, Shane's hair white and wispy under the relentless sun. Bobby's running commentary about the airplanes flying overhead, sirens in the distance, cats and squirrels racing across the fence. Beautiful boys.

And then their was dull Mommy, downing gulps of caffeine and feeling guilty for not 'doing' anything, like beginning the edits on my latest writing project, or changing the laundry. When all I had to do was pull up a beach chair to the wading pool and just BE MOMMY instead of fretting about what a bad mommy I was.

I vow to be more of a zen-mommy, more grounded in the present and less of a nag. And to fix my broken camera. And to definitely start pounding at the keyboard once again.

Reflecting on Numbers

2006-05-24T12:35:00.000-07:00

Whenever Memorial Day is on the very near horizon, I always sigh with relief. I have survived the crowded birthday marathon in my family, with a little money left in the bank and a few party-free weekends in the future. Bobby turned 3 close to a month ago. I jumped to 27 a week after his birthday. The weekend of my own birthday, wiped out from planning Bobby's party and stretching my budget to accomodate three other birthdays in between, I had a bit of an internal meltdown.

About the number 27. I declared with feigned enthusiasm that this would be my lucky year. 27 seems a solid, lucky number. This would be the year I finish and even sell my first novel. This will be the year I get some relief fromt the around the clock toddler care when Bobby will start preschool. This will be the year I'll find regular freelance work and start pumping money back into our dwindling savings. That was all the outward declarations.

Inside, it went more like this, when I stumbled to the computer before Desperate Housewives came on and my friend Melissa saved me from my birthday night misery after my family was asleep:

#27 Musings

Happy friggin birthday, Kelly. I turned 27 at around 6am this morning, while Bobby woke up too early with a mind numbing scream and it was physically impossible to burrow any deeper into my need to be washed pillow.

27 years old. What does a number mean, anyway? Now, I am just three stair steps away from the big 30th birthday, which I’m sure will be overhyped and under rated as any other birthday I’ve celebrated...besides my 21st, which I’d be happy to revisit year after year.

So this is another one of those inconsequential years that have flown by. No huge accomplishments or big to dos. Scary to me that my own mother was still childless at this age. She didn’t have me until she was 28. What did she do with all of that time, anyway? Dinners out with friends, and movies and barbeques and other get togethers that take on a whole different shade when looking through the bleary lenses of motherhood.

Yikes! What a miserable, measly rant reeking of cheap beer and self pity. I can't even remember, really, why I was so down. Vaguely, it had to do with the fact I couldn't really sleep in on my real birthday, at no fault of my husband's...exactly. He rolled out of bed, grouchy and mumbling, to take boy duty that morning. Then Bobby proceeded to scream on the other side of my bedroom door for the next two hours.

And we did go to the Wine Festival that afternoon with the boys and their public meltdown was quite tame compared to other doozies when I only had my own set of hands to wrangle them back into the cave of our home. Is it that I'm that much closer to being 30? Age isn't that remarkable to me. My husband, my friends are all older than me. Maybe part of it is I haven't been bringing home a paycheck for three years now since deciding to stay home with my boys. (Not counting those paychecks we are saving by not putting the boys in childcare).

And now Bobby is 3. Which is what I really sat down to write about. Instead, I'm diving into my quarter life crisis, as John Mayer calls it.

Three is a supercharged age in the early childhood arena. Mostly concerning the big P words. As in potty training. As in preschool. As in, the only preschool I can afford for Bobby only takes kids that are Potty trained. And Bobby needs to be in preschool. He needs some buddies his age. He has friends, which are really my friends' kids that live out of town. But, no playdate buddies. No friends from class that invite him to birthday parties and days at the park.

Don't get me wrong. I used to pack both the boys up for a mommy and me class once a week. We actually went for about a year, until Shane learned how to run and usually headed the opposite direction of Bobby. After one hideous incident at the park after class, I had to carry one boy under each arm, both kicking and screaming, with as much dignity as I could muster while juggling two screamers and an overstuffed diaper bag. We haven't been back since.

Moms with Boxing Gloves

2006-03-16T13:38:00.000-08:00

Let the mommy wars begin! In the first ring, the working mom, struggling to find that tight balance as supermom and breadwinner, working professional and available nurturer. Opposite of her, the stay at home mom, knee deep in toys and trying to maintain an identity, any identity, outside her home.

It seems this debate, working versus staying at home, comes in waves, depending on what expert has spoken out on the topic or has given birth in the last few years. Apparently, the mommy wars are back and some mom’s are pulling out all the punches. Linda Hirschman has exploded onto the scene, with outspoken views on how mother’s should live their lives. She focuses on the new trend of college educated women ‘opting out’ of the workforce to stay home with their children.

Some stay at home mom’s have jumped into the ring, not happy being told that their way of life is sub-par to the working woman. Most recently, Darla Shine came out with a book Happy Housewives and is calling all mom’s to join the wave of her mamanist movement. She has come under a lot of criticism for her views on keeping a perfectly kept house and body for your family and husband. I agree with the spirit of her book, but not all of the specifics. She obviously doesn’t have toddler age children so she can make the time for going to the gym, keeping up with the latest fashions, and getting out of her pajamas before her husband comes home from work.

A new magazine has also emerged called Total180! (www.total180mag.com), which represents the spin on your life when you trade in your briefcase for a diaper bag. The three creators wanted to create a forum for at home moms to share their experiences, laugh at themselves, and show the world that staying at home is real work and that they are proud of it. They target those very women who made the difficult choice to opt out to raise their kids. Critics have also jumped down their throats, calling them a bunch of whiners who aren’t using their educations to their fullest potential. More power to them, but of course I am partial because I belong to their target audience, a college educated at home mom, who also happens to write for their magazine. It takes guts to depict the sludge of everyday life at home, while balancing it with the beauty and rewards of being your child’s primary caregiver.

A segment shown recently on Good Morning America moved me to my computer. It was aptly titled the Mommy Wars and included an interview with Linda Hirschmann and a forum of stay at home and working mothers, including Debbie Klett, one creator of Total180! magazine. Hirschmann definitely has her right to her opinions, but I was appalled by the way she came down on thisgroup of educated women. She called it irresponsible, due to the high divorce rate in America, to jeopardize our earning power. She said it was brainless and monotonous work that few mothers really seem to enjoy. Hirschmann restated again and again that mothers should have no more than one child in order to stay competitive in the workforce. Yikes!

Staying at home is a lot of physical labor, scrubbing the house down, changing diapers, bathing, feeding, and cooking. It is havoc most days, but my family thrives in the chaos because it is housed in love. Certain days are tougher than others, when it is raining outside, the boys are fighting, the laundry is piling, and I watch my husband leave for work with a quiet longing. But, I never have regrets about my education or about opting out to raise my two little legacies. My mind will still be here when my kids are older and I think the education gives me an advantage with my children, in understanding those developmental quirks and my sharpened skills of reverse psychology never go to waste.

Who is to dictate what is best for the individual woman and her family? It is hard enough just being a mother, no matter what side of the ring you are on. It seems such a waste of time to continue this battle of words, saying one type of mother is superior than the other. I’m sure every mother has their doubts, whether they admit it or not, about the choices they make in that million dollar question, when should I go back to work? Staying at home day in and day out can be monotonous, sure, but every day I spent in the workforce wasn’t always intellectually stimulating or personally validating. You must take the garbage along with the grandness, whatever side of the ring you are on. I’m sick of the attacks from both sides and wish we could all come together as a truce and be good role models for our children by not attacking our own kind. All mothers work and all mother’s think. When and how we do this is our own business and we have no right to attack other ways of life and place our way of thinking on a pedestal.

Gleaming Moments

2006-01-29T20:12:00.000-08:00

Motherhood has its moments.

Like when I am forced to cook dinner with Shane attached to one leg while trying to open the oven door with his hand not tugging my pants down around my ankles.

Or when Bobby chooses to throw a screaming fit during my powerwalk, where I am forced to push him at high speed and am at least fifteen minutes away from home.

These are the grisly, everyday moments and people who read about them and are completely terrified to take the plunge into parenthood usually go running for the hills. An example: a well meaning writer who reviewed the new magazine total180! on salon.com a few weeks back. She said the stories of stay at home sainthood made her terrified to start a family.

But there are those gleaming moments buried in the monotony, the crying spells, and the sheer labor of it all. Like the moment when Bobby comes running towards Shane's room first thing in the morning, and says in his chirpiest voice:

"Good morning, Shaney Brainy. Hello, mommy's little binky bear. Wanna play with Bobby, my little binky bear?"

My heart just wants to melt out of its body.

And this moment now, with both boys breathing heavily in their beds, quiet and safe. I realize, for the first time in days, weeks even, I haven't yelled at the boys or pulled out my hair from the craziness of life with two toddlers. Today was actually ok. No major bruises or tears or screaming fits. Just a lot of play and hugs and even a whispered "I love you, mama" as I turned out Bobby's light.

Now that is a gleaming moment.

Motherhood isn't all terror...maybe it is a terrible, all consuming beauty, doused with some hideous moments of uncertainty, confusion, even desperation. But I am always set back on the ground when I'm flying too out of control with emotions, by a simple phrase from Bobby or an adoring, if wordless glance from Shane.

This Preschool is Closed

2006-01-18T22:15:00.000-08:00

Ahhh, optimism. This time of year it really does get the best of me. So far, my resolutions are wilting along with my go for it attitude. The strict exercise regimen has been exchanged for stealing every last possible second in bed until my husband leaves for work and I actually have a household to run. Ha.

Another case in point: my whole preschool prototype I thought would work miracles on my home life. I figured life would run smoother if I borrowed from my days as a recreation teacher and scheduled my boys' days by the hour. Free play in the morning, dressed by 9am, outdoor play if weather permits, art and cooking projects, blah blah blah. Well, the structure of my preschool seems to be groaning.

I mean, really, what was I thinking exactly? This is NOT a school, but a house, that is run 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, with sparse holidays when the grandparents take the boys on a whim. Of course (most) preschools have some semblance of order. The teachers only work eight hour days, if that, then get to send the little rugrats back home. So not the case in my household.

I have lowered my standards for this would be school. Instead of scheduling by the hour, I'm aiming for the day. Like, Fridays are library day. This means Bobby throws an exponential temper tantrum as soon as we walk through the sliding doors and I slap the overdue books that he hasn't bothered looking at in days anyway on the returns runway. Then, Shane bolts for the wooden puzzle pieces and bangs them with the force of a teenager onto the mini-tables. Then Bobby gets reprimanded by me, then the librarian, for screaming or running along the aisles. Then, Shane pulls down the enormous globe on the librarians desk. Then, Bobby starts banging the keys on the computer keyboards. Then, the mothers of the mellow children who actually sit on the couches and page through crusty books give me the look, you know, the one of admonishment. Tsk, tsk, and all that. And this is all withing twenty minutes. I won't even go into the meltdown that plays out in the parking lot when it is time to leave...

Hmmm, seems I got distracted there for a minute.

Oh, the daily schedule. Friday-Library, then the boys get to watch a full length movie that they checked out. It seems a fair balance to me, being that I am completely exhausted after the excursion out into the threatening public where my boys are so intent on wreaking havoc. You would think I keep them locked in cages at home, the way they take off running away from me.

Well, in all honesty, I only have one themed day. The rest are just checks on the calendar, one step closer to the weekend where I'll have my right-hand man at home to help me out.

So farewell to optimism, I've fallen back to my reality and it isn't even February yet.

A Day in the Life...

2006-01-12T13:33:00.000-08:00

If you have no idea what the heck this is all about, go to http://www.mommiesmagazine.net/news/123
and read this week's At Home Havoc column.

Day 1

Bobby crawls into bed just after 5am. Yikes! Not a good start to the preschool day.

6:20am. The would-be teacher drags her butt out of the warm bed to hit the elliptical machine for some New Years inspired exercising.

6:40. Ahh coffee and a shower. The old one-two combo to survive a morning of toddler mayhem.

7:40 Bye bye Daddy. Boys up and enjoying the hot wheels on the train table. No major fights as of yet.

8:00 Breakfast of ‘baby pancakes’ as Bobby calls them, and fruit cocktail. And they actually eat content at the table for a good fifteen minutes. Bobby even asks for seconds. Could this possibly avert the sporadic snacking throughout the day?

8:30-9:00 Breakfast clean up. Mommy sets up a Little People village on the train table and dresses the boys. Promises of a field trip to the library if only Shane will stop the teething crying and constant drooling.

9:00-9:45 Fifteen minutes of story time on the couch while Shane scrambles up and over the book, almost falls to the floor on his head, then is furious because I won’t let him straddle the arm of the couch. Bobby pissed that his brother is interrupting the story.

10:00-11:00 Library chaos. Shane shoving crusty wood puzzle pieces onto his swollen gums the moment I turn around to grab Bobby from stealing a book from another unsuspecting toddler. All in all, a successful trip. No huge tantrums or mama dramas. Bobby actually gets into his car seat without protest.

11:30 Lunch of chicken nuggets, corn and grated cheese (don’t ask) with a globby mixture of ketchup and ranch for dip. Boys rubbing their eyes.

12:00 Diaper changes (Bobby refuses to try potty once again, big surprise there), milkie, and a group snuggle with the train library book. Then it’s off to bed for BOTH of the boys. Mommy uses veiled bribery to get Bobby to take a nap (we get to bake muffins if he takes a nap. There is our cooking/science curriculum!)

12:50 Mama gets to finish reading the paper and move files around on the computer, then check email when she should be doing lunch dishes and straightening the chaotic living room, and doing laundry.

1:48 Somebody tear me away from the computer. I think the laundry is getting moldy! Is that a Shane cry I’m hearing?

2:00 Shane is out and about. Would-be teacher is cleaning clutter and doing dishes to get ready for the great muffin bake off.

3:00 Bobby zooms out of the room grinning, claiming he’s going to bake a muffin patch. First video of the day for Shane to keep him out of the way (Baby Einstein), and Bobby and Mama get to work on cracking eggs, mixing flour, and squeezing lemons.

4:00 Mmmm, Mama and both boys snack on fresh baked lemon poppyseed muffins. Back to the train table with blocks, hot wheels, and trains.

5:15 Daddy home and Mama officially calls the preschool day over. Boys play, Mommy cooks dinner and all fall into bed by 8:00. What a day!

First day was promising. At Pollard Preschool we covered: reading, science (muffins), table toys (trains, cars, etc.). TV log for the boys: 45 minutes...yay!

ALAS....

That was what you would call a false start, or maybe a false positive. Bobby has not napped at the scheduled nap time since Day 1 (it is now Day 9). Shane continues to cut evil white daggers out of his swollen gums, which possesses him with a demonic whine that lasts ten hours a day (if you add it all up). Neither boy has slept through the night. Mama has not gotten out of bed before the boys, due to the cruel amount of sleep deprivation, and is resorting to coffee binges and several "WHY ME!!!" rants throughout the day.

Coming next week...

Toddler Boot Camp.

A Better Mama

2006-01-04T21:00:00.000-08:00

Resolution fever has overtaken my brain this past week. I'm always a sucker for self improvement, lists of goals and objectives, and loads of pensive thoughts about where my life is going. Of course I have all the standard ones I have every year... lose some weight and exercize, drink less, write more, and on and on. You'll be scared to know I actually downloaded a free goal setting workbook online (www.higherawareness.com) and I am actually working through the twenty plus pages while the boys battle it out over the train table. I came to a few conclusions that can only mean...I have a higher awareness. (HEE HEE)

1. I need to take better care of myself or the whole family ship could go down.

2. The thing I want most for 2006 is to be a better mom.

Now, I know I am a good mom. I think it is pretty easy to be a good mom. I'm striving to be better and here is why: better is more elevated, and to me, it implies that I will constantly be improving my skills and my relationships with my little guys. I vow to work on my patience (no eye rolling behind Chops's back when he wrecks his train tracks and demands I fix them immediately,or when Bubba's steady whine and leg cling-on tactics are going into their 11th hour). I vow to be more playful, to get on the floor more with the boys, to let them run free outside rather than have their brain's dulled by way too much television.

Now, I'm not aiming for the best or the most perfect mama. I want to work for something I know that I can do. I can be a better mama and they deserve a better mama. Hopefully, as I become better, they can do the same. (I'm referring to Bobby's charade at the park today where he took off running after a pack of wild boys on scooters and ran right for the street. I wish HE was old enough for New Year's resolutions, because he would most certainly be vowing to be a better listener to his frazzled mother.)

Check out my Mommies Magazine column coming out next week for my newest strategy...get ready, boys, for preschool to come to our house!

Santa Says

2005-12-04T20:51:00.000-08:00

I had a new playing card to deal out to my two year old, Chops, this past month. It is the timely, spirited Santa card, replete with bribery and idle threats. A typical scenario would play out something like this...

"Chops, stop messing with the cat."

"NO! That's MY cat."

"Kitty cat scratches. Stop pulling on his tail."

Devious smile accompanies the gentle tugging of the cat's tail flicking with agitation.

"Chops, Santa is watching you right now and he doesn't like it when you don't listen to Mama. What is he going to do with all those toys the elves are making for you? He won't bring them to boys who don't listen to their mommies."

Head tilts in interest and he quickly withdraws the offending hand and moves on to scribbling wall with crayon.

Repeat previous conversation, inserting, "Drop the crayon!" for every "Leave kitty alone" remark.

I'm not proud I have to resort to bribery when it comes to my two year old. And, even blatant bribery using a figure of a religious holiday, began to lose its effects come mid-December. Threats of no toys or trains from the elusive Santa soon failed to register even a glancing acknowledgement from Chops.

Well, to shorten my long long trial that was December, I have resolved not to use that trick next year. Chops is on to me. After all the idle threats, hands on my hips, smoke billowing out of my ears... Chops still managed to get that train table and set from Santa. Instead of coal and dog food in his stocking, he found treats and hot wheels and a whole clutter of toys from the dutiful elves.

Maybe I should learn a thing or two from Santa. Tis the season for forgiveness. Santa is a symbol. He came through with the toys, but I have the power to take them away. Heh heh heh!

A Bunch of Bulls

2005-11-17T13:53:00.000-08:00

Chops and I have been at it all week. I really didn't believe it was possible to be so at odds with my own flesh and blood son. Sure, he is smack in the middle of those terrible twos. It seems everything lately is preceded by a whine or a NO. I consider myself a fairly level, well educated woman who can certainly handle whatever a careening toddler chooses to deal me. But, I never banked on how deep he can sink those claws under my skin. I have been thinking about it all week, in between mostly one sided arguments with Chops, who miraculously loses his hearing if I ask him to do something as simple as sit in his carseat so I can strap him in before we get moving.

I finally have it figured out. The astros are closing in on us. Meaning, I think this might be an astrological symptom. He is a Taurus. I am a Taurus. Two of our strongest traits are stubbornness and bull headed tempers.

Ah Ha!

That combined with his particularly hideous age and stage, combined with my lack of sleep and mounting stress over the upcoming holidays...and we now have the whole reason why our quiet suburban house is in serious danger of erupting into toxic spouts of lava tears and shouts.

I'm really not being dramatic or overreacting. This week alone, Chops and I have probably averaged three epic battles every twenty minutes. That makes for a very long day when he refuses to nap, which is like every day.

Yes, I can take some measure of comfort in the fact that he will someday outgrow these devious days of toddlerhood. But Chops and I will never outgrow being stubborn bulls, always butting heads in our epic battle of wills. Who will win out? I'm really not sure at this point. All I know is that this bull needs a serious vacation.

2005-11-17T13:44:00.000-08:00

OK, Just One More...

2005-10-04T22:00:00.000-07:00

Here it was less than a week ago that I vowed to stay away from the time draining blog. And here I am now sitting in my dark office, all of my boys asleep in the house, and having all sorts of thoughts in my head. Why keep it to myself?

Chops is having issues with bedtime and naptime. The nap isn't there to be my afternoon crutch anymore. If he does happen to drift off, it is usually on the couch, after one too many Teletubbies, Boo Bahs, or other demented PBS shows. So even if he is napping, he is central in the household and any noise is bound to wake him up. Which brings me to my next problem.

The days Chops does succumb to the nap are the days when bedtime becomes a battle. He simply will not go down. Lately, I've been so exhausted by 8:00, that it doesn't even occur to me to let him stay up later to run out of steam. I can barely keep my eyes open to make sure he isn't torturing the cat or wiping diaper cream on the carpet (yep, that really happened). So we do the normal routine and march him to bed with a sippy cup of milk (don't alert the parenting police about the sippy cup in bed). Then I read him a few stories, always the same ones. It is to the point where I don't even need to look at the words anymore. In fact, one desperate night when we couldn't find one of his favorite books, I actually recited the whole thing to him...But I digress...

Usually, he would go right down without a fight. I knew this big boy bed thing was going a little too smoothly. I can handle giving up the nap, to some extent. But mess with the golden hour of bedtime? From 5:00pm on, I cast furtive glances at the clock in countdown for that moment of peace in the household when I can finally get my house back into order before the wrecking crew is up to their old tricks again the next morning. Or more likely, that moment when I can flop on the couch without a biting pre-toddler hanging all over me or Chops shouting MILK! PLEASE! The moment my butt hits the sofa.

Due to our recent exhaustion, Robbie and I have taken to lying in bed with Chops to help him calm down and fall asleep. Robbie started it. There, I said it. Although, I've taken up right where he left off. That is why I'm sitting here typing after 10:00. I've been lying with Chops for the past hour or so with a squirmy worm of a toddler and my own thoughts. And I really didn't feel so bad about lying there with him.

I read a lot of parenting magazines. It's part research for my own writing and part fascination with all the conflicting advice from the gazillion so called experts out there. There are the hippies sprawled out on the family bed against the tight asses who virtually crate train their babies in their cribs. I have always bounced between the two extremes and have managed really well. So I got to thinking about all those experts and how most would say I shouldn't give in and lay down with my son. I should march him back to his room over and over and over again. Don't give in! Don't lay down!

I know I'm being dramatic but blame it on the exhaustion. As I was laying there listening to Chops ramble on: "Cuddle Mama. Cuddle Sponge Bob pillow. Yogurt dinner." and on and on he rambled, I might add, I thought this. If I died tomorrow, would I want my last day with Chops posted on the outside of his door ordering him back into bed over and over frustrating the hell out of both of us? Or would I want that last night to be under his race car quilt, cuddled up next to him, rubbing his stubbly hair and soft skin, listening to his toddler speak until it finally slowed to a rhythmic snore?

Don't get me wrong though. This laying in bed with Chops for an hour or two every night simply isn't going to fly much longer. But the moments cuddled warm and safe in his pile of blankets are a sacrifice I'm willing to make every now and then. I don't think I'll let him nap tomorrow...

Blogging Break

2005-09-30T12:53:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to thank all of you who have been reading and commenting on my crazy life with a household of boys. Luckily, all of the viruses/rashes have been remedied and all of us are healthy. Well, except for our Black Lab Sadie, who we just found out, will need an expensive surgery to repair a torn ligament. Things are already tight so it will take some creative budgeting and borrowing to pay the $2-3000 for her to be the same lively pup once again.

The online magazine (www.mommiesmagazine.com) I have been working on is steadily doing better, although it still is not a source of income yet. As of now, I'm viewing it as editing and publishing experience for me. Something will have to change soon with the income situation, because I just may have to go back to work if I don't start making money freelance writing. That isn't necessarily a bad thing. The break from the household would probably be good for my sanity, but it would also mean less time spent with Robbie, since I would have to work nights and/or weekends. Plus, it would also take time and energy away from my writing. The other startup magazine I wrote a feature article for Total180! is set to be published in November, and I'm really hoping it will take off as well. Look for it on the newsstands and if you are a stay at home mom and can spare $15 (believe me, I understand if you can't!), go to www.total180mag.com and subscribe to this fun and fresh magazine. The incredible ladies are fronting a lot of the expenses of publishing the first issue, so every little bit helps.

So what is the point of all these ramblings? I think it is time to take a break from the blogging for awhile because Chops isn't napping anymore and I only have a tiny window of freedom where I can write and clean and shower, etc. I'm sure I will pick it up again someday when things have settled and I get into a better writing routine.

Everyone pray for me. Pray that the boys don't drive me completely nuts, that Sadie will recover nicely from her surgery, and that I will make the big time with my writing in the next few years! It's been fun stepping on the blogging bandwagon and I'm sure I'll be back!

Always on Call

2005-09-22T13:18:00.000-07:00

I remember when my stepfather used to work for a trucking company back when I was very young. There would always be those nights when he wore the beeper, meaning he was at the company's mercy, at all hours of the day and night. I remember thinking how unfair that was for him. He couldn't have too many drinks with dinner and it was inevitable that tiny pager would start blaring in the middle of his favorite show or mid-snore. But the beauty of his pager was that after his shift was over, he could finally turn the thing off.

Oh, if I could only be so lucky. I don't have a need for a pager. There are no annoying beeps to wake me in the middle of the night or to force me off the couch during a particularly juicy scene from "Desperate Housewives." I might as well have one, because it is during those times that the boys start in, needing a new diaper, more food, a fresh sippy cup, a toy repair, and on and on.

I am always under the radar. They have no qualms about waking me up from a deep sleep so I can stumble around a room and crawl under a crib in search of a binky. They don't care if the muse suddenly strikes me and I have to absolutely get something down on paper. Those are the moments they have a nasty diaper blow out or a conked head on the linoleum floor.

Even this past week, Robbie was on vacation and I was doing the happy dance. Finally! It won't be JUST MOMMY in the house all day. I had visions of sleeping in until 9:00, tapping away on the computer and sending off some stories...which of course would lead to riches and glory.

HA!

Monday morning I was all set to sleep in. Chops wasn't having it. He has no problem if Daddy is sleeping, but if Mommy dares to stay behind the closed bedroom door, he throws his full 35 pounds of boy into the door, screams, and whines until I completely give up on the stolen hours of sleep and stomp out to the kitchen for a pot of coffee. Ditto for a peaceful shower. Or for that story that will never be written.

Where is the off button on this Mommy pager? Can somebody please show me? I think the last time that it was truly off was during our girls trip to Tahoe back in May. There I could stay up as late as I wanted because no one would be waiting in my room to wake me up at dawn. There I could keep the shades closed and lounge in bed until 3 in the afternoon.

Oh, please take me there again!

A House Full of Sicklies

2005-09-15T10:58:00.000-07:00

There is something about illness in a household of young children. Call it cruel fate and mass contagion. Cruel fate because we have our big camping trip planned for this weekend, which of course is now overshadowed by empty bottles of children's tylenol, cast off teething rings, and a lingering stench of vomit in Chops's room. Mass contagion, because what started as Bubba's feverish, listless weekend thought to be caused by hardcore teething, was actually a case of roseola...which he so lovingly passed to his brother, though Chops still hasn't broken out in the dreaded rash yet.

Not to mention our Black Lab Sadie is now nicknamed Tri-Pod, because she's only walking on three paws, with no apparent cause.

What's next? A nice case of chicken pox or a broken arm for Mommy or Daddy? The house burning down?

I know, I'm being morbid. You try being cooped up all week with two cranky, steaming hot kids who are only content when Boo-Bahs, Teletubbies, or Thomas the Train are on. You try sitting with your dog for half an our working over every inch of her toe pads, claws, ankles, and legs to solve the great tri-pod mystery.

This will be a short post because we are preparing to dash out of town to hopefully escape the madness. Unlikely, since we'll have the sicklies in tow with us. I'll probably return with tales of laughter and disaster from Lake Camanche next week.

No More Whining

2005-09-02T13:26:00.000-07:00

My household was swelling with whines this week. Chops may very well be the most guilty, whining and screaming for everything from ice cream cones, to the truck Bubba was playing with, or the fact that I wouldn't let him sit in the drivers seat of my minivan on the way to the library. And once we got to the library...ooooooh boy, the whining escalated into a full blown tantrum, to where we were literally escorted out of the children's section by one of the librarians. She was only trying to be helpful, I admit. She shooed us outside and took my library card and pile of books and brought them back out to us. I still felt like the naughty school girl with the dunce cap on, even though she was very understanding.

Bubba is more of the night time whiner, of the midnight variety. Blame it on incoming teeth, that chipotle marinated pork he devoured for dinner...whatever. Several times over the week, his screams burst out from his room and seemed to crawl over my skin. I felt bad for the little guy, but I was so incredibly frustrated and needing him to sleep so I could have some semblance of sanity.

I was probably the biggest culprit of them all. Luckily for everyone else in the household, the whines mainly seethed and swirled in my own head. They went something like this: "Another *&#*## dirty diaper!" or "He cannot be awake AGAIN." or "Chops, if you open that fridge one more time I may have to grab the cordless screwdriver and drill it through my eye!"

I know, not my finest hours, but at least I internalized it and didn't subject the boys to my inward rants, raves, groans, and sighs. Of course, everyone could sense Mommy wasn't a happy camper and that I was a tad edgy (exaggeration of the year, there.) Suffice to say, I was feeling a bit sorry for myself and very ready to give Robbie my two weeks notice so he could begin searching for a new mommy.

Then came Katrina. The sick and sad news footage that never goes away. Images of the sick, the dying, the deceased broadcast on all the networks. Last night, I watched World News Tonight with Brian Williams and a photographer shared his account from the confines of New Orleans, where a crowd of thousands gathered at the convention center. Bodies of the starved and dehydrated lined the walls. A man held out a 3 week old baby with listless eyes, who hadn't had any milk in three days and would probably die. A mother cradled a toddler who she couldn't wake up, he was so dehydrated.

Well, there was my reality check and a big slap in the face. Here I had been, whining to myself all week. And in another part of the country, people are losing everything. My boys can be maddening and draining, but they are so full of life and energy and vibrance. As of now, we are the richest family in the world. And I promise, no more whining.

Now, if only Chops would make that same promise....

Milestones: A Pile Up of Memories

2005-09-02T06:28:00.000-07:00

Bubba has been crawling for almost a month now. A milestone of all milestones. With a few reckless, flailing arm and knee movements, my household was propelled into one of two mobile, energy draining sons. No longer can I set one down and be guaranteed that I will find him in the same vicinity when I return from the laundry, the bathroom, or wherever I escape to. A mixture of sadness and pride fills my heart. Sadness, that the days of babyhood will soon be over and I will have another full blown toddler careening through the household, banging his head on various exposed corners and table edges. Pride in his ability to master a skill, his glee in finally being able to go after anything his heart desires, or at least anything he wishes to mouth.

All of these milestones my two sons reach. I feel they come and go faster than reckless tides, that come in and out of the ocean and wash away memories with the newer ones. Where once I always had a charged video camera within arms reach for Chops's victories, now I have none. I had every intention of capturing that steep learning curve of Bubba's new crawling career. How, at first, he just swam on the carpet, his chubby arms working front and back, like one of those killer whales that the trainer motions up to the side of the pool, head and tail in a perfect arch. From swimming to the constant rocking, on hands and knees, punctuated by cries of frustration for the toys just out of reach, of his older brother, teasing him, just out of reach. Then the baby yoga antics of last week. The downward dog, where Bubba's body made the perfect V: his hands planted firmly under his shoulders, knees straight and off the ground, only his tiptoes grazing the carpet.

First it was a feeble one, two, three baby crawls before he reached the elusive toy and collapsed back onto his stomach to investigate his find. Another milestone, also within this same week, was pulling himself up to sitting by himself. Which usually ended up with Bubba so excited and impressed with himself that he would fall straight back and smack his head on whatever was behind him...carpet, chair legs, Chops's dump trucks. The shrieks, the quick cuddle from mama, and he went right back to doing it again.

Last week Chops had his own major milestone. He suddenly decided he didn't need to sleep in the crib anymore and graduated to his monstrous race car bed that takes up half of his room. We've had both beds set up in his room since Bubba was born 10 months ago, convinced then that Chops was a big boy and ready to plan great escapes from behind the bars of his crib. He never quite escaped and the overflow of toys from his room seeped into our living room. But NOW, he is such the man cuddled in his hot wheels comforter, surrounded by his five blankies, his bucket of cars and a litter of books around the perimeter of his mattress. And he did it all on his own...one day actually staying in his race car bed during naptime instead of playing 'sneak up on Mommy when I'm supposed to be sleeping.'

Milestones. My video camera battery has been dead for months and I'm missing it all. The baby book collects dust on my shelf. I know Bubba is the last baby, yet I don't clutch to his babyhood as one would normally presume. I spend a lot of time living for the future, when the boys are finally out of diapers and we can use all that money we are saving for family camping trips, sports leagues, trips to amusement parks and baseball games. Meanwhile, the boys transform before my eyes. Each day, each moment, is some milestone. I woke up one day and realized Chops had gone from a babbling toddler, to a little boy that was actually stringing words together as on a carefully beaded pearl necklace. First, slowly and gingerly, but now, actually sounding like a real boy. What was once whines and finger points are now "Git white milk now, please..." I want to tie a recorder around his neck and record it for posterity.

It is a household of milestones occurring everyday. Bubba's first time wolfing down a chicken nugget. I foresee many hours of the boys begging for McDonald's in the future. Chops's first lefty pitch. Do we have a future major leaguer on our hands? Yet I get caught up in dreams of the future, where things will surely be easier than changing diapers and trying to reason with a tantrum-throwing two year old. Instead of marveling in the tidbits of everyday, I'm drowning in overflowing laundry baskets and kitchens always drained of food.

I gather up these most recent milestones and sit quietly with them in my mind. Soon there will be first words and first steps for Bubba. Soon there will be first days of school and first back-talking for Chops. In the now, the milestone is this: everyone is perfect and healthy. Everyone is developing at their perfect pace. And the love in my house is surely enough to crowd out the dropped dog hairs, overflowing diaper pails, and empty pantry.

Flipping Pancakes

2005-08-26T06:26:00.000-07:00

This morning I was the perfect picture of motherhood. Padding around in my fuzzy slippers, leaving the newspaper in a heap on the couch, I was inspired to make the boys some pancakes. This is a big deal for me.

Reason #1- For whatever reason, I really hate cooking breakfast. I’m a cereal and toast kind of gal. Frying bacon, flipping pancakes, and scrambling eggs is just not on my agenda. This is usually my husband’s gig, but only on weekends. You can imagine Chop's excitement when I made the announcement, "Mama's making us pancakes for breakfast!" Treats like those are usually reserved for lazy Sunday mornings or overnights and Grammie and Grampy's.

Reason #2 I cannot cook pancakes. As simple as they may seem, I always manage to screw them up. Either they aren’t cooked on the inside but perfect on the outside, or the edges are burned in the sizzling scraps of butter.

But for whatever reason, I decided to whip up a batch. Maybe it was the fact that Chops is now what I like to call a serial snacker, especially since he’s gained the muscle to strong arm the fridge door open. All day long, he’s dragging out bits of food, taking a few bites, then chucking the remnants in the sink. Then, ten minutes later, it begins all over again with a new delicacy. Perhaps with pancakes for breakfast, his stomach would be effectively coated for the rest of the day. (By the way, it only lasted him about 45 minutes before he started ransacking the fridge again.)

Maybe it is because Bubba has crossed over into the realm of finger foods and he has never had a taste of a mushy sweet hot cake pass his lips. Everyday for this future linebacker is a journey into the joys of people food. More times then not, he shakes his head violently at the Gerber fare, in favor of whatever is on the dinner table. Let's just say the Chipotle Chicken we had for dinner last week didn't treat his poor tum too well at 3:00 am.

So, out comes the Bisquik, the eggs, the milk, and the dash of cinnamon. As I whisked, Bubba clutched my cotton pj bottoms and Chops sang about the yummy pancakes to come from the kitchen table.

As I was mixing the gloppy concoction and coating the pan, then pouring and flipping, an image came into my mind, vivid as the gleam of Bubba’s new baby teeth. One of sitting at my aunt’s counter, much like Chops was doing, and following her own motherly dance around her kitchen. She had decided on a whim to bake chocolate chip cookies. I wasn’t nearly as young as Chops, more like eight or nine. But I just remember being amazed because she mixed this seemingly elaborate recipe of butter, eggs, various powders, chips, etc...without even following a recipe. Each scoop of flour and sugar, spoonful of baking soda and vanilla extract, was dumped into the large bowl with a certain rhythmic confidence. In that moment, I wanted to grow up and be just like her.

So, I admit, the pancakes won’t win any gourmet chef acclaim. But the look on both of the boys’ faces as they devoured them, crumb after crumb, filled me with a sort of motherly, Betty Crocker-ish pride. Bubba moaned and squealed with each new mouthful. His eyes followed me around the kitchen, and he looked at me expectantly when his tray was cleared once again. The smell of butter and cinnamon and maple syrup stayed on Chops all morning. Every time he’d come near I’d beg him for a kiss, just to breath in his sweetness. So what if flipping pancakes only bought me 45 minutes of Chops forgetting about the contents of our fridge? That was just enough time to set up shop on the floor with the boys, and to play-fight with them for each section of the paper. The morning was a warm glow on an otherwise dull day.

Summer Books

2005-08-19T10:43:00.000-07:00

NOTE: After wading through this brief intro, just know that I'll come and revisit this post as I finish another book and I'll share my measly two cents about them... So come back every once in awhile :)

My household is slowly disintegrating. An out of commission dishwasher, renegade ants in the kitchen, and a home that must be scrubbed top to bottom... Let's just say, I'll be lucky to get myself and my boys out of our pajamas today.

In lieu of another day in the life of Kelly rant (which I don't seem to have the energy, inspiration, or brain cells for today), I'm posting a list of books I've been reading this summer. The list is by no means extensive...I don't have many moments to steal away and lose myself in a great book. But, I've been trying to read more, just to be more inspired as a writer. I'm happy to say, I seem to have chosen my reading wisely, because I'd recommend any of these books to you.

So....

Down Came the Rain, Brooke Shields
Now, she isn't the most literary of authors, which I wasn't expecting. And anyone who hasn't been pregnant probably wouldn't appreciate this book. But, she has a lot of guts to come forward with her story of extreme postpartum depression. She calls it the big elephant in the room, that everyone sees but nobody wants to talk about. She lays it all on the table and the emotions are raw and disturbing and real. I have more respect for her as a person since reading it.

Gods in Alabama, Joshilyn Jackson
The author is a fellow momwriter (a writing group I belong to) and this is her first novel. I had no idea what I was getting into when I checked this out at the library. A magazine I edit is holding a meet with the author chat at the end of August, so I figured I should know my stuff.

I absolutely love this kind of book. Part mystery, part thriller. It's about a southern girl who flees her hometown for the big city to leave a dark secret behind. When she does finally return, all the truths she thinks she knows begin to unravel. I love books that keep me guessing until the very end. With twenty pages left, I was convinced I had it completely figured out. But, I didn't, and the author effectively toyed with my mind.

Gift from the Sea, Anne Morrow-Lindbergh
This was a total accidental read. A friend of my husband's left it here and I happened to pick it up one day. It is a meditation on life and its many beautiful phases that she likens to the many shells she finds on her solitary vacation by the sea. According to her, I'm plunged in the oyster bed with my family.

She writes: "It is an oyster, with small shells clinging to its humped back. Sprawling and uneven, it has the irregularity of something growing. It looks rather like the house of a big family, pushing out one addition after another to hold its teeming life--here a sleeping porch for the children, and there a veranda for the play pen; here a garage for the extra car and there a shed for the bicycles. It amuses me because it seems so much like my life at the moment, like most women's lives in the middle years of marriage. It is untidy, spread out in all directions, heavily encrusted with accumulations and, in its living state--this one is empty and cast up by the sea--firmly embedded on its rock."

After absorbing this little book I had the aha! moment that I somehow didn't get until reading the author bio...she was married to Charles Lindbergh, the famous pilot, and their first son was tragically kidnapped when he was just a baby. Duh, Kelly.

Automatic Wealth, Michael Masterson
My quest continues to bring in some extra income for the family. This one took awhile to get through and I probably won't use a lot of his suggestions. But it was worth reading just for the first few chapters on goal setting and rethinking the way we view wealth and our spending habits.

Operating Instructions, Anne Lamott
Awesome, funny, sarcastic, and genuine writer. I'd been wanting to read this one for a long time now. It is basically her journal of her first year as a mother, a single mother at that, and she really captures the chaos, uncertainty, and wonders of motherhood.

Waiting for Birdy, Catherine Newman
One of my new writing heroes. This is another memoir type book of her second pregnancy and how her life is transformed when her daughter is born while her son is just a toddler. How she manages to crank out a first novel, have a weekly column for Babycenter.com and contribute several articles a month to Family Fun is beyond me.

I'll post more books to his page as I devour them. (Next one to come: Down Came the Rain, By Brooke Shields) Everyone have a fabulous week.

The Teeter Totter of Brotherly Love

2005-08-11T13:40:00.000-07:00

(Note: Before I begin my newest rant, I must preempt it with this. Today’s world is a scary place and there are privacy issues, disturbed people lurking everywhere, and a resulting paranoia in every parent’s mind. Therefore, I won’t be using the boys’ real names in this space. I’m sure that if someone really wanted to do the legwork, dig up their names, and what town we live in, etc. it would be easy enough. My hopes are that it would never come to that. Instead I’ll use their family nicknames.

My two year old is called Chops. Since his first teeth started popping in when he was about four months old, one of his Aunties starting calling him that after a boy on Paris Hilton’s "The Simple Life" who had an incredible smile. Chops takes after my dad’s side of the family, with his notoriously big, gummy, Irish smile. To me, Chops has the purest, most joyful smile...even when he’s up to no good and that grin is dripping with mischief.

My second son earned his nickname while he was still kicking around in my belly. Since Chops couldn’t pronounce ‘Brother’ when he was that young, he started calling my belly ‘Bubba’ and the name has stuck ever since. Bubba is such a fitting name for my little man. I’ve always imagined someone called Bubba to be a somewhat hefty kind of guy, whose build rivals the most solid of linebackers. And that is exactly what he is, even at nine months old.

Well, this could have been an entry all by itself...but now that I have the whole situation of names cleared up...on to what I really want to talk about. Oh, and by the way, since my husband doesn’t really have a nickname and I’m not too concerned he’ll be abducted or otherwise harassed, I’ll just use his real name.)

Ahem. I called this the teeter totter of brotherly love. You probably know what is coming. Since Bubba is newly mobile, crawling circles around the house and beginning to pull himself onto furniture, the sibling rivalry in the household is escalating. I knew it was coming, and in fact, it was already well established. Before Bubba was physically able to chase down big brother and scam on his dump trucks and hot wheels, Chops was already snatching bottles and baby toys away from him, or trying to drag Mama away as well. The reason I haven’t gone completely gray (only partially between color touch-ups, thank you very much) is that these daily battles are balanced out by the moments of love and play too.

This is the nature of my days. A melting pot of delightful cackles and shrieks of frustration and fury from the wrestling rink. (I mean, from the floor) The boys clutching hands and cooing at each other one minute, then the sounds of skin slapping, heads crashing into piles of toys, brotherly punches, and then more shrieks. One morning Chops and Bubba actually took turns pushing trucks to each other across the room and I ran to grab my camera, only to return to catch Chops snatching the truck from Bubba’s chubby palms with his trademark brotherly war cry, reducing poor Bubba to tears.

One of the sweeter moments was when Chops begged me to let him play in Bubba’s crib. I laid the boys next to each other with their respective blankies. For close to fifteen minutes, the boys giggled, passed toys back and forth and actually HELD HANDS. I thought I would die of total adoration. Yet, I am well aware of the day, not too far off on the horizon, when Bubba will dare to fight back. Maybe it would by wise to have Robbie build a boxing rink in the middle of our front room, buy a couple sets of boxing gloves and a referee whistle, and just let them go at it. There is no way to prevent the inevitable. At least they would have the protective gear and there would be no permanent damage.

Their relationship is like the manic mood swings of a bipolar brain, right now tipped more towards the angry/depressed/crazy side. But then there will be these moments of total beauty, like when you see a patch of vivid purple wildflowers on a smoggy Bay Area highway. And it is those moments that get me through the day, that get me looking forward to more of the moments as they learn more words, learn sports and games, and generally become the best of friends (and the worst of enemies). Hopefully by that point, the scale will be tipped the other way where the brotherly love will outweigh the battles. Instead of a congested highway with small spots of beauty, their world will be an incredible garden with a few pesky weeds needing to be plucked now and then.

Mushy Mommy Brain

2005-08-04T20:57:00.000-07:00

It seems that in virtually every parenting magazine I pick up these days, there is yet another article on ‘mommy brain’. You know, the general idea that somehow the act of reproducing and then living day in and day out as a mama zaps brain cells, any memory function, and the most basic form of common sense. A book was recently published with the latest studies of hormone levels, brain testing, and other scary thoughts. They all generally conclude that indeed, mommy brain is not a myth, but something no woman can escape.

Now, the first years of motherhood . . . fine. The extreme sleep deprivation, surging hormones, demands of nursing, of pressures to raise your baby a certain way, get your body back, maintain a welcoming home, all while trying to keep another being alive is enough to make any person a tad forgetful. I admit I’ve had my moments. Putting a box of cereal in the fridge and the milk in the pantry. Preparing an elaborate slow cooker dish then neglecting to turn the cooker on. Running my husband’s cell phone through the washer and the dryer. I am in the throes of the dreaded mommy brain syndrome.

Then the adventures in toddlerhood: the potty training, the big move out of the crib, the every day psychological warfare your pudgy, wild-eyed toddler wages against you. I even buy that.

But what about later on, when the kids are mercifully in school? The most recent article I read basically says mommy brain never really is cured. The stress, the extreme multitasking maneuvers, the parade of school lunches, permission slips, and slumber parties. Did the very moment I conceived my son doom me to a lifetime of brain mush with only fleeting moments of sanity and intelligence?

This is where the UC Santa Cruz feminist in me must chime in, if only in my head. Is mommy brain or the myth of it the reason for the dreaded glass ceiling that hangs over all of our ambitions, career goals and dreams? Maybe the glass ceiling isn’t some supreme conspiracy to keep women in the kitchen with the kids instead of as functioning workers in the free world. Or maybe the mommy brain ‘myth’ was created to justify the whole existence of the glass ceiling. Since no company can predict which of their aspiring women will procreate, they hold them all down, and move the men right up the promotional ladder. (I admit I exaggerate a tad.) Is this why we won’t have a woman president any time soon? If she is a mother, she has too much emotional baggage and her mind is dulled by the constant worrying, multitasking, and hormone fluctuations. If she isn’t a mother, well then, she is surely suspect and wouldn’t have a fighting chance anyway in an election.

What about the upside of mommy brain? Not the dying brain cells, lack of memory and good sense, but the incredible amount of patience and love we gain. The amazing talents of being able to break up sibling wrestling matches, while rescheduling a doctor visit, while attacking a mountain of laundry, and watching the morning news.

I really don’t know where I am going with this or what I should conclude. In a lot of ways, the whole concept of mommy brain pisses me off. (Or perhaps I just have a fresh batch of hormones circulating.) On the other hand, mommy brain lends itself well as a nice scapegoat.

"Sorry honey, I simply don’t understand how I managed to wash your cell phone. It must be that darn mommy brain at it again."

The Kelly State of Mind

2005-07-27T22:11:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my newest baby, my little blog I hope to nourish into a thriving hotspot of insight.

OK, I'm a little dramatic about the whole thing, but very excited. A little about me and what my big plans are for this small space on the web. I'm Kelly, 26 years old. One day, I woke up and realized that I am the mother of not one, but TWO sons, who are so young that they still cannot use the potty, pour their own milk, or even play in the backyard by themselves. Young sons who will one day go to school, play on sports teams, get into fights, and even...have girlfriends! How did this happen?

Well, it all started back in my carefree days as a UC Santa Cruz student. While I was wading through the hefty upper division courseload for my American Studies degree, newly single, and slightly wild, I fell hard for a friend of my sister's I had known since my days of braces and junior high angst. Robbie and I had a whirlwind relationship that quickly culmulated into an elaborate marriage a month after I graduated. With a degree in one hand and my new hubby's hand in the other, I began to make my way into true 'adulthood'.

Not long after, I found out I was pregnant after a Point Reyes backpacking adventure with a few friends. Accidental pregnancy? Not exactly,although I was shocked just the same. Pregnancy was an incredible, tortuous time. I was a walking house of worry. But, ironically, I didn't really worry about the important things. Instead of thinking about how a new baby would rock the routine of our freedome-filled lives, I obsessed solely on the labor and delivery. My friends, I obsessed over the WRONG thing. While my labor and delivery torpedoed at lightening speed, the aftermath was somewhat stagnant and frightening. We had a helpless, albeit healthy, newborn son to care for. To feed, to keep relatively clean. To care for all day. Every day. Forever. I finally had to grow up.

The second pregnancy was planned in every possible sense. I had quit my job as an afterschool teacher to be a stay at home mom. The only logical thing to do was pop out another little guy to add to the madness. The boys are exactly 18 months apart, and the birth of my second son was even more life altering. Most days I feel like Gumby, stretched in all directions...to each of my sons' conflicting needs, to a household that is never brought fully into control, to our dog and cat, who always want something at some inopportune moment like when my toddler has dumped a box of cereal on the carpet or my 9 month old has smacked his head on a chair leg, to my husband who I wish I had more alone time with, and to my own dreams...to finally be a published writer.

And this is where my blog comes in. Marriage and birthing kind of crowded my writing to the back burner. Somehow, the fire has been relit and I am finally writing again. I'm ready to put MY stain on the world. I'm wading through stories I wrote back in college, outlining new ones, and generally trying to find the direction I want to move next. But first, Life, which is the kindling for the richest kind of writing of all.

Most of these posts will be raw, slices of life as a full time mother. My total adoration and awe of the man and two little men in my life. The everyday dramas of temper tantrums, whining, Thomas the Train overload, and injuries. The marvels of the everyday miracles of new words, new skills. Call it a diary. Call it future scenes for my novel "Mommy Mayhem and the Girl Who Lost her Mind", call it a small place in cyberspace for me to rant away.

This blog is my pre-website. It is an experiment. It is a tiny metal fishing boat floating in a stormy ocean. Down the road, I will create a site prettier, more varied than dirty diapers and curdled sippy cups. But for now, this will do. So come on by. I plan on posting once a week. Let me know what you think, what you want to hear about. I'll be tapping away on the keyboard as my two year old climbs all over me and my 9 month old figures out the whole crawling thing.