Another Year, Another Night

Gone are the late nights and early mornings of high heeled boots and mini-skirts, party blowers and midnight kisses.

Now, it’s barely after lunch and I’m already tired, a little bit cranky, and wondering how I will convince my boys that when the ball drops at midnight in New York, it’s really midnight here, as well.

We’ll go out on the porch to bang some pots and pans, light a few sparklers, and then I will hurry them past the clocks in the house that read only 9:05. I’ll give hugs and kisses, I love you’s, sleep wells, don’t let the bed bugs bite, and sweet dreams, and I’ll listen for their breathing to slow and watch as their sweet lips plump as they drift off to sleep.

Then I’ll lay my head down next to theirs, and like many of you swirling a bit too much of that festive champagne, I will pass out, but for me, it will be from exhaustion. And that’s okay. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

First Days

I held his hand tighter as I felt him shake. “Please don’t leave me, I don’t want to stay,” he said. And I wanted to kneel down to him and wrap my arms around him and whisper, “No, of course you don’t have to stay. We will go home to the backyard, to the sunshine and grass. We will count the ants as they march to their hill, and we will lay on our backs and tell the stories of the shapes in the sky. We will hold hands as we jump together into the pool, and laugh as we roll down the hill.”

I longed to hold onto the days that the sun rose and set with just his brother, his daddy, his mommy. I longed to slow the inevitable separation that another year older would only bring closer. But instead of following my breaking heart, I looked him in the eye, pasted a smile to my face, and said, “You’ve got this, buddy. It will be so much fun! Your friends are all here — look! Here comes one now!” And somehow, before I was ready, I felt his hand slip away from my own, and he was across the room in a flash. Just like that, his nerves were calmed, his enthusiasm fanned, his need for me, gone.

I waved and blew him a kiss as I backed out the door, my eyes bright with the tears I refused to let flow.

Summer Warmth

I wish the warmth of summer would never end. My boys have grown as fast as the grass. Addison has lost two more teeth (the seventh on the eve of his seventh birthday), Hayden has outgrown two sizes of pants and one of shoes. They run, and swing, and color with chalk on the driveway. They swim and dance, and collect rocks in their pockets. They water the plants, and bury the seeds from their sesame buns in determined belief that a hamburger tree will appear in the morning. They giggle and sing. They imagine, create and inspire. When they’ve tuckered out and snuggle in next to me for a few moments of quiet, I bury my nose in their hair and breathe in the sweet smell of sweat and grass, sunshine and adventure, and say a prayer that next summer will be even better.

That Awkward Moment When You’re Caught in the Galley with Your Skirt Hiked Up Around Your Waist

So I have this tendency to get myself in awkward, embarrassing situations on a fairly regular basis.  Fortunately, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned to laugh at myself rather than to start praying that the ground will swallow me whole.  I have a kind of funny story if you are up for it.

As usual, I was rushing like a mad woman to get myself out the door and to work on time this afternoon.  Let me preface by saying that my version of on time is at least 30 minutes early.  I like plenty of time to get checked in, to chat a bit with anyone I may run into, to swing by the Starbucks on my way to the gate, and then, if the plane is already on the ground, I like to get on board, get my galley ready, make a quick phone call to the boys, and be all settled and ready before the first passenger steps on.  Anyway, in my haste to leave the house, I accidentally ran my nylons as I was getting in the car.  I dashed back in the house, grabbed a new package from my drawer, threw it in my bag, and blew kisses, love yous, and see you soons for the second time as I raced again to the garage.

Once I arrived to the crew room, I pulled out the package of nylons and shrugged as I realized they weren’t my usual style.  No biggie, I thought, as I slipped them on.  We have new uniforms that have been a disaster for a multitude of reasons.  One of the many, many problems, is that the shirts are too short to stay tucked into pants or skirts.  Any time I have to reach up, such as to shut an overhead bin, the shirt will come a bit more untucked.  This also happens if you bend, or walk, or just move in general.  Most of us have discovered that if you tuck the shirt into the top of your hose, it will stay put a little longer.  My problem was that I had accidentally grabbed a package of thigh highs, so there was nothing to tuck my shirt into, other than the band of my skirt.  Oh well, right?

So off I went to clear security, get a pumpkin spice latte, and eventually make my way to the plane.  I was the first one there, and figured I had a good 10-15 minutes to myself before any of the other crew arrived.  I lugged my bags to the back, lifted them into the bin, and then headed into the galley.  By this time, my shirt was practically up to my chin, so I ducked around the corner, made sure I wasn’t standing in front of the L2 window where any rampers may be able to see me, and proceeded to hike up the bottom of my skirt so I could pull my shirt back down.  But I couldn’t quite reach the edge of the shirt, so I had to push my skirt up even higher, until it was all the way up around my waist.  Just as I was tugging the shirt down, I heard an “Ahem”.

Now for a quick back story.   Last summer I took Patrick with me on a 4 day Hawaii trip for work, and it turned out that the First Officer who flew the entire trip with us was someone I had forgotten that I had “dated” years earlier.  I’ll have to save that whole story for another post, but in a nutshell, I didn’t put two and two together about who this guy was until the fourth and final day of our awkward, uncomfortable trip, one in which I tried desperately to win over the cold, distant, First Officer with a chip on his shoulder to know avail.  I mean, it was like this guy had some reason to be ticked off with me, and oh, wait, I guess he did have a fairly good reason….  I had just flown for four whole days with him without realizing that I had previously “dated” him.  Oops.  My bad.

Well guess who was standing behind me as I tugged on my shirt, skirt all up around my waist, wearing those damn thigh highs?  Uh huh.  Peter, the First Officer whom I will never, ever again forget that I had “dated”.  Awkward uncomfortable moment for sure.  He looked like he was going to die, and he couldn’t quite figure out what to do — should he say something, turn around, offer to help?   And then I started talking.  “Oh, hey, um, just fixing my shirt here, um, okay, all set.  So hi, how are you?!  You look great.  Are you going to San Diego, too?  Oh right, of course you are.  Okay, so can I get you something?  Anything?  Um okay.  So.  Well.  Look, could we just uh, pretend this never happened?  Pretend you didn’t just see what you just saw?  Okay then.  Well, you must be off to your walk around now, right?  Right?”

Poor Peter rushed off that plane faster than anyone I’d ever seen.

So that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

The Things I Remember While I Clean Our Guest Bath

There are several rooms in our house that I very rarely enter.  One happens to be our guest bathroom, which for some unknown reason had become Peyton’s bathroom of choice.  We kept all the bathroom doors closed because Hayden had a huge affinity for water, and also, I once discovered Addison drinking a cup of water that I had not given him.  When I asked where he got it, he very proudly told me that he was a big boy now, and could get his own water from the toilet.  Yep, I was raising dogs.  Just take a swig out of the toilet if you’re thirsty! 

Anyway, we were having friends out for a BBQ, so I opened the door to the bathroom, planning to give it a quick once over since I thought it hadn’t been used since the last time I had cleaned it.  As I turned on the light, I blinked my eyes several times because I thought I might have had some strange migraine thing that makes you see smudges, rather than spots.  Dark brown, dried, crusty smudges.  But no, it was not a migraine (though I wish it was).  You can imagine what my next thought was.  Shit.  Literally and figuratively.  Not a space had been spared.  The walls were covered in thick, brown, dried yuck.  The sink, the faucets, the toilet, the step stool (no pun intended), the soap dispenser, the hand towel, EVERYTHING!!! 

Upon closer inspection, I was HUGELY relieved to discover that the “crap” was actually dried chocolate frosting from a bribery cupcake I had given Peyton the last time she was with us (You know, “If you please do this, I’ll give you a cupcake decorated like a doggy.  Please, please, please do it, and I’ll give you anything you want.  Please!).  I have never in my life been so happy to clean a bathroom covered in dried chocolate frosting as I was that day!

Because I Want You to Know

Photo by Jennifer Barnes Photography

To my Addison and my Hayden,

Sometimes, I start to feel sad when I am away from you, because I miss you so much it feels hard to breathe.  But then I remind myself that because I love you so much, I am with you — I am always with you — even when we are far apart.  There are moments in my life that take my breath away, moments when I feel overcome with gratitude that God chose me to be your mommy.  I cherish the way you make me laugh after a hard day, breathing in your rough and tumble scent when you wrap your arms around me for a hug, feeling the weight of your leg or arm tossed across me in your sleep (Addison), hearing the smack of your lips when you give me one of your precious kisses (Hayden).  I am blessed beyond words to be your mommy.  You have brought more joy to my life than I could ever express.  You are everything that is good, everything that is right.  You are my joy, my laughter, my love, my life.  I love you forever and always, to infinity plus some and a whole lot more.

Love, Mommy
and PS, I’m bringing home those Maui cookies that you like so much….

Happy Birthday, Monkey!

Hayden came to me one afternoon to tell me that he wanted to have a monkey birthday party and invite all of his friends when he turned four.  We have always celebrated his birthdays (I say always like there have been so very many of them) with a trip to Disneyland.  I mean, as long as I am being completely honest here, our Disneyland trips have always been a bit of a cop-out for me.  Packing some suitcases, eying the flight loads, and hitting refresh on the computer every 20 minutes for a day or two until a unit at our Anaheim timeshare pops up in Bonus Time, are all super easy in comparison to planning and (gulp) hosting a party.   

Having a late April birthday in the Northwest pretty much guarantees an indoor party, which hasn’t been something I’ve wanted to tackle.  So I was a bit stumped.  I’ll admit, the first few conversations we had, I tried to re-steer him toward the Happiest Place on Earth.  I even pulled out the videos of previous trips, the shiny Mickey Mouse ears that light up, and promised him we could fly down on the Disney Plane (okay, totally reaching on that one).  But none of my ploys could sway him.  He wanted a monkey party, and he wanted to invite all of his friends.  And there would be no changing his mind.

So, out came the glue gun and sewing machine, scissors, and tablecloths.  We started scouring the internet for ideas, and scouting local party spots for a venue.  The boys and I spent several weeks trying out various monkey themed craft projects, flipping through party catalogs, and their favorite, browsing the candy aisles in several different stores in a hunt for brown and red colored candies for the dessert table. 

We decided to have the party at the Cafe Sip ‘n Play, a local little cafe with great atmosphere that caters to the under five crowd and their parents.  They served up excellent fresh food, helped me get the decor set up, and best of all, took care of all the clean up.  It was a gazillion times easier than having it at our own home, and it took off a lot of the hosting pressure. 

My wonderful friend Jen was kind enough to take some pictures during the party.  You can find a link to her website here and to her facebook page here. 

The kids each got to fill their own pail with treats including monkey bouncy balls, crayon roll-ups, and lots of candy!

I found the pails in the dollar bins at Target, and we added some red ribbon for handles.

Each child received a cute sock monkey crayon roll-up.

We made these cute little party hats out of the same fabric we used for the tablecloth.  The boys helped make all the pompoms!

We served Red Velvet Cupcakes, as well as the classic chocolate and vanilla.

Happy Birthday to My Monkey!