GetRealMama

Welcome to my life

2012-01-27T16:57:00.000-08:00

Poor Wes. He stood there in my doorway with his hands in his pockets as he watched the chaotic scene unfold. Wes is the father of a little girl in Evan's preschool class. He came dutifully to retrieve a stuffed kitty cat that the girl had left at our house earlier that day. Wes only has one little girl, and I do not believe he is accustomed to the type of crazy he happened upon last night.

I suppose it was the perfect storm. It was 5:30, the witching hour. I had dinner cooking on the stove, Julian who was sitting in his highchair had just tired of his blueberries had begun to wail helplessly. Moments earlier I had informed the boys it was time to turn the television off, so a meltdown was eminent. The doorbell rang. Just as I answered the door, Zachary screamed, and didn't stop. "EVAN BIT ME! HE BIT ME!!! EVAN IS EVIL." And then Evan started crying. Wes wanted to get Kitty and get the hell out, but I invited him in, since I wasn't expecting him and had no idea where the stuffed animal was. He declined my offer and didn't take one tiny step in . Each one of my boys was crying at full capacity. Welcome to my life Wes.

Luckily I found Kitty quickly so I could hand "her" off and attend to my wounded boy, naughty son and crying baby. I watched Wes leave. Take me with you Wes. Take me to your peaceful home, where you will have dinner with your quiet little family. For the love of God, take me with you. He left.

I examined Zachary's leg and he had in fact been bitten. Brothers. This is my life. This scene which probably scared Wes for life is nothing unusual. I just hope someday they boys will be best friends, making it all worth it.

The picture I wish I could take.

2012-01-22T19:35:00.000-08:00

It seems that many bloggers also happen to be fantastic photographers, and thus the "Wordless Wednesday" and "This Moment" posts have been born. These talented parents are able to take photographs of their children that seem to capture a moment and all the emotion that comes with it so perfectly. Unfortunately, that is just not me. My photos usually include forced smiles or blurry, unrecognizable images.

I wish I had a digital image that I could post here, one that would capture the time I had tonight with my baby. It is a beautiful memory, and lucky for me, it is imprinted in my heart forever.

The picture I would have taken:

The weight of a nearly eight month old baby pressed against her in the dark. His breath steady and heavy. She sings to him in soft tones, her voice not necessarily beautiful, but close, she calms him. She pets his soft hair which smells faintly of baby shampoo and lavender. The street light pours in through the window and the naughty laughter of children breaks through the quiet erratically, like waves breaking against the shore. Peace and quite found in the chaos, as slumber approaches.

Click.

Don't be fooled.

2012-01-19T16:43:00.001-08:00

Yes, he is cute. Deceptively so. For you, he turns on his charms, his flirty smile, his precious coos. People compliment me on his pretty eyes and his skillful army crawl, but there is evil that lurks beneath his Gerber baby facade. He is slowly weakening me, breaking me down bit by bit. He isn't particularly creative, his torture techniques are well known and expected, but his expertise cannot be denied. He is a Master in sleep deprivation, this baby knows his stuff.

He keeps me up most nights waking me every several hours with his piercing cry. Try as I may, I simply cannot ignore his wailing. By morning he has broken me so that no amount of caffeine can chase away the cobwebs lodged in my sleepy brain. I give in to his every whim. I dole out empty calorie "Puffs" like frozen peas. I turn a blind eye as he chews on a crayon. I allow the older brothers hours of TV, anything to make it through the endless days. Don't tell me this baby doesn't know exactly what he is doing.

Follow up letter to Santa

2012-01-08T18:25:00.000-08:00

Dear Santa,

Thank you for the Christmas gifts. I especially liked my glowing lightsaver, but that was from Nana & Grandpa, not you. Don't worry I liked the stuff you brought too, like the Darth Vader alarm clock even though mommy says our family hasn't had use for an alarm clock in six years.

I also like my Star Wars pajamas, but mommy told me that they make me look like a silly teenager because the pants hang off of my bottom. She is mad that you don't seem to know my size. It's okay Santa, I like them big!

Santa, I have a few questions. First, was my brother Julian on the naughty list? He didn't get very much for Christmas, and what he got was really boring. Baby wipes? Pureed carrots? I feel sorry for Julian. Maybe that is why he has been crying so much lately.

I also want to know if you can come back before next year. I really liked my play dough set, but I mixed all of the colors up and now I only have grey. Mommy keeps finding bits and pieces on the floor and throwing it away. She can be mean like that. I would like more play dough. I would like more candy canes. I would like an Ipad II. If you can't make it back, I suppose I could ask for these things for my birthday. I already know that I am having a Superman-Transformers-Buzz Lightyear themed party. It's going to be some cake. You can come to my party if you want. Then it could be a Christmas party too.

My older brother Zack gets mad at me sometimes. When I yell at him he tells me that I won't get any presents for Christmas. Is that true? I am usually not naughty. Well, sometimes I'm not naughty. I do like presents, so I hope he is wrong.

I hope you liked the cookies that we left for you, one fell on the floor, but mommy picked the dog hair off of it. I hope you didn't get the stomach flu after you came to our house. Everyone else did.

See you soon!

Love,

Evan

See you next year.

2012: I'm Back!

2012-01-07T19:46:00.000-08:00

2012, and I have yet to post. It is not that I have lacked for material.

I have kicked around many ideas:

New Years Resolutions for the kids. (Julian, eliminate all midnight, 2 and 4 am snacking. Evan, expand repertoire of insults beyond "poopyhead." Zack, pee in the toilet, not on or around it! )

If looks could kill. The bay area seems to be jam packed with crabby people who don't like children. It's as if this society demands women with children just stay home until the kids are grown. I have had far too many dirty looks while out in public with my kids. It's happened at the grocery store, on the street and while dining at local cafes. I don't get it. Babies, and kids are part of this world. Why do so many people dislike them? Sure, there is a time and place, but if you are having breakfast in an establishment that features highchairs and a children's menu, please, wipe the look of disgust off of your face when you are seated next to my family.

I hate Mel Gibson. Come on do I need to say more?

And I have had others, yet, I just haven't had the energy to fight with my computer and pound out a post. Today however as I was wallowing in a funk, I decided to turn a new leaf. Yes, I am a little tired and I have been dying for a vacation, just some "time off" from my life as mommy. However, this is my life and I had better make the best of it.

So this morning, before my husband headed off for his day out with the guys I put on my running shoes and went for a jog, the first in a long while. Then I came home and put on a dress and some lip gloss. I got dolled up (thus the picture) for my movie date with my sons. And you know what? It made me feel like a million bucks. And now, I am here writing on this little blog.

I'm back.

Watch out.

Reflection

2011-12-30T16:51:00.000-08:00

2011 was a challenging year. It was a year where we saw a great deal of joy, and we were blessed in many ways. But damn it was hard. We had a lot of change. I was pregnant and sick, we moved to Oakland, had a baby and the boys changed schools. I quit my job, lost the nanny and went down to a single income.

Change can be wonderful, as in the form of a bouncing baby boy, but it can also be difficult as you navigate how to function under new circumstances. Moving from two children to two plus a baby has not been easy. It has pushed me to a whole new level of exhaustion and stress. There are days where even when I can see just how good I have it, I don't feel like getting out of bed and starting all over again. I'm tired.

And it isn't over yet. Julian is seven months. I figure I have at least another six to twelve hard months ahead, yet I am happy because we have started something. The Three Musketeers. Our family. We are now complete and we will hopefully have a lifetime of happiness before us. I expect that the years ahead will all have unique challenges, some of them more difficult then the ones we have faced this year. This has been a year of happiness where we have been blessed with good fortune, for that I am grateful.

2011 is a year that I am going to remember. For the birth of my son. For the sleepless nights, the fighting brothers, the stroller pushing, backaches and spit up. For the beginning of our journey as a family of five.

Happy New Year.

Screw you Santa

2011-12-27T20:16:00.000-08:00

Santa sucks. You know what he brought the Kargas family for Christmas this year?

No, not a hamster, we worked that one out in advance.

It isn't anything you can purchase at a store or even put a ribbon on.

No Lexus, no diamonds, no Ipad II, no smart phone.

The stomach flu. That's what that fat SOB left under the dying tree of holiday joy. It came on fast and furious. I can tell you that at it's height I was contemplating calling an ambulance or a funeral home, it was that bad. Thus far Zack had it, which lead to no less than six loads of laundry because he has yet to master the art of puking in the potty. I have had it, Evan has had it and now, my father-in-law. My husband is a ticking time bomb. Tick-tock-tick-tock. If he comes down with it soon we could possibly still enjoy the New Year holiday and his birthday.

Sadly it has really put a damper to our festivities. This was the first year in many that we celebrated Christmas at our house with the extended family and I am afraid that it will be remembered as the most dreadful holiday on record. Bummer.

Thanks Mr. C, see you next year buddy.

Dear Santa, Call me a Grinch

2011-12-20T21:38:00.000-08:00

We had a list. For Santa that is. We worked on it, solidified it, confirmed it and sent it off to the North Pole. We agreed on this list. A smart list. A reasonable list. A fun list.

A Globe

Sponge Bob Legos

Star Wars Pajamas

Cars II DVD

Clock

Razor (scooter)

Lightning McQueen stuffed animal

Star Wars books

Check, Check and Check. Holiday Shopping done. Budget managed. Ho. Ho. Ho!

And then what? Yesterday the kid informs us he asked Santa for a hamster. A HAMSTER? A live hamster? One that needs to be fed? One that poops in his cage? One that might run away and get lost under our sofa before being eaten by our cat? Oye Vey. I had to nip this one in the bud. There will be no hamster. We have three boys. A dog. Two cats. We have enough living beings to care for and clean up after.

But he asked Santa for this. Directly. If Santa doesn't come through what does that mean for my little boy? An end to the magic? Dashed dreams? A future expectation for disappointment? This could be life changing.

How do I deal with this? What the hell do I know? I'm Jewish. As a kid, all I expected for Hanukkah was a Star of David stationary set purchased from the temple gift shop. So I put on my Santa/thinking cap and quickly told my son that I had personally written Santa and let him know that we could not accept any pets, and to please not send any.

Yup, I will take the heat for this one. I'll be the Grinch. Expectations managed. No hamsters.

Bah-Humbug.

Dinner Dilemmas: Chicken & Vegetables

2011-12-20T21:08:00.000-08:00

Okay, long overdue Dinner Dilemma post. I actually made this dish early last week, but I have had zero time to post. Zero time to post and a piece of garbage computer that crashes every 2.5 seconds, which makes it quite difficult to get anything completed.

I have to note that one of of our beloved critics (Mr. Evan Kargas) was so offended by my meal that he refused to participate. No, he stuck to his moral high-ground and did not let a morsel pass between his lips to his highly refined palate. Therefor, I have only one rating for this weeks recipe: Chicken & Vegetables from Better Baby Food by Diana Kalins and Joanne Saab.

Recipe:

1lb carrots, peeled and sliced
2 sweet potatoes, sliced
3/4 cup chicken stock
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 black pepper
4 boneless skinless chicken breasts
4 tbsp Dijon mustard
1/2 tsp thyme

1. Place carrots on bottom of casserole. Arrange potatoes on top of carrots. Pour half of stock over vegetables. Cover with foil and bake in pre-heated oven (400 degrees) for 20 minutes.
2. Reduce heat to 375 degrees. Stir vegetables. Add salt and pepper to remaining stock. Add mustard and thyme. Pour over chicken mixture and bake for 45 minutes until chicken is no longer pink inside.

Zachary's rating:

Zachary is clearly falling victim to an inflated rating system. He awarded the dish 7 stars. (Out of five, don't ask). Although he was very enthusiastic about the meal, he didn't eat more than half of it. Perhaps this judge is learning that dessert comes to those who give their mothers compliments.

It was an easy dinner to prepare and I liked the flavor of the chicken and the carrots. Next time I think I might add some additional veggies, like bell peppers and onions.

The Gift

2011-12-15T17:00:00.000-08:00

Those commercials. A December To Remember, which of course involves a Lexus with a big red bow. The couple at the skating rink, they slip, fall, laugh, and he presents her with a diamond pendant. Kay Jewelers. An enormous flat screen TV, and a very happy husband. Best Buy. Who actually gets those gifts for Christmas? Not the Kargas family. I imagine not most families. Our Christmas is going to be a tad more shall we say modest?

Do I wish I was getting something sparkly for the holidays? Would I like to get my boys their very own Ipads? Sure, who wouldn't?

However, I have already received an amazing, special present, one that I don't think I would trade for any Prada bag. What was it? It's glass. It glitters in red and gold. It is one of a kind and handmade by a local artist. My 3 year old son. Yesterday I attended the only holiday party that I was invited to this year. It was from 11-11:45am at the Lake School preschool. There was apple juice. There were cupcakes. A crazy, rockin time. Parents were presented with gifts that the children had created just for them. Evan could not have been more proud when I was handed the gift that he had made. It was packaged in gift wrap that he had painted himself and was accompanied by a card he had made with shiny paper and glue. He could not wait until we got home for me to open it, he insisted that I open the present right then and there. The smile on his face, the little bouncy dance he was doing while he waited for me to unwrap his gift, was priceless. With a twinkle in his eye he told me "I made this for the whole family! It's glass, we can't break it."

Indeed it was a glass votive painted in sloppy red and gold strokes. I hugged him hard and told him how much I loved it. He wanted to light the candle as soon as we arrived home. Instead we waited until evening came so we could turn out the lights and enjoy the glow of his creation.

When I was a child I used to roll my eyes when my parents would tell me that there was no gift they wanted or cherished more than the ones that I made them. Surely, they wanted a new TV, or pretty jewelery. But now I understand exactly where they were coming from. And perhaps once again, I am a cliche, but this time in a very good way.

Happy Holidays!

Cliche

2011-12-11T20:12:00.000-08:00

I am not going through an identity crisis. I know who I am. I am just not sure I like her.

When I started this blog, I knew it would be in part about my role as a mommy, however, I also thought it would encompass other parts of who I am. Right now, I am simply Rachel The Mom. Friends warned me of this. I was advised to create a life outside of my children, because kids are not kids forever. At first I adhered to the warnings. I kept up with my career, my friendships and my workout routine, however as time has gone on and we have moved from one, than two, than three children, it's kind of fallen apart.

I am a stay at home mom. My blog is about my kids. All day long I am with human beings ages six and under. I cart them from place to place. I facilitate play dates, oversee homework, pack lunches, coordinate doctor appointments, grocery shop, and worry about their quirks, pains and behavior. That's pretty much it.

I wish I was writing about more. My marathon training, my trip to Kenya, the volunteer work I am doing at the woman's shelter, the Spanish and yoga lessons I am taking. But truth be told, I almost never purposefully exercise anymore (double stroller pushing seems to zap my energy), I don't have a valid passport, don't have the wherewithal to volunteer or the time for downward dog. I suppose if I gave up time on the weekends I could carve out a hobby, but I actually love my spouse, want to spend time with him, and don't feel it is fair to abandon him on Saturdays and Sundays.

It's a lot of excuses I know. It bothers me. I should have more energy. I should be doing more. I should be more interesting.

But I'm not. I'm a mom. Changing diapers. Doing laundry. Whining. Feeling a little isolated.

I'm a housewife. I'm a stereotype.

I'm a cliche.

The Letter/Bless His Heart

2011-12-09T20:34:00.000-08:00

I told him not to touch the Christmas ornaments. I warned him several times. These are special. These are fragile. They are a holiday legacy. I want my boys to enjoy the choo-choo train, Santa Fire Fighter and Elmo ornaments for years and years to come. I want my kids to show them to their own babies. They need to last.

We hung the shiny beauties on the tree just one day ago. There are sweet decorations stamped with "David 1977", there are the kitty cat ornaments David has purchased for me over the years. There are Zachary and Evan's ornaments, the ones that I have carefully picked out for my boys. Fragile, fun, sparkly, precious!

And broken. At least one of them. It happened this morning. The morning after we decorated the tree. Zachary was admiring and playing with the tree before breakfast and then I heard a little crack, and then "OH NO! SOMETHING HAPPENED!"

I didn't have to wonder what happened, I just had to wonder how bad was it? I ran downstairs to discover Zack standing over Pirate Santa Claus , 2010. Damn it. I was pissed. That was one of the expensive super pretty ornaments. It was Evan's. Zachary knew better. He did. Damn it. I let him know that I was upset. I glared at him. I yelled for his father to bring the broom. "Why?" I asked Zack. "Why?" "I told you not to touch the ornaments. Now you broke it! Forever!"

There were a few tears. (Zachary's.) Some angry stomping (also Zachary's.) Zachary yelled at me. "You hate me. You don't like me at all!" I answered between clenched teeth. "I do like you, but I DO NOT like your behavior! I am mad."

I went back upstairs to finish getting dressed. 10 minutes later it was too quite. Where was Zachary? It took a minute or two for us to find him, huddled in the basement, over construction paper, concentrating. He presented me with The Letter. The letter photographed above. It needs translation. This is the best that I can do.

Dear Mommy and Daddy,

I am sorry for touching the ornaments. I didn't mean to. I hope it is o.k. I feel bad for ??? I am really sorry. Love Zack.

Okay. Enough said. Tears. Love that kid.

So that's how it works....

2011-12-07T22:17:00.000-08:00

What did I do today?

Let's see.....

I dragged your sleeping baby brother out of bed, so we could get you to school on time. No tardy slips allowed!

I braved Target with a six month old and a 3.5 year old to get your buddy a birthday gift. Can't go to a party without a present.

I woke up your sleeping brother (again, but this time only 15 minutes into his long awaited nap) so I could pick you up from school on time.

I made you orange smoothies for snack.

I took you and your brothers to karate. I wore your baby brother in the bjorn, and crossed my fingers that Evan would behave. He did not. I dragged a naughty boy off the mats while still holding a baby in my arms. I entertained them both so that you could learn your martial arts.

I drove you across town so you could get a hip new haircut at the cool salon that plays Spongebob while the stylist snips your hair.

I took the long way home so we could look at Christmas lights. I doubled back to allow you to see the giant tree your brother pointed out, which you missed and thus started balling about.

I made you hamburgers and tater tots for dinner while the baby screamed in the bouncy chair. I endured your insults about my cooking.

I called your friend's mom to arrange a play date at our house... again.

For that, did I get a hug? A kiss? A thank you?

No.

However when daddy walked in the door at 6:30 announcing he had stopped at the library and checked out the latest disgusting Captain Underpants book, you flung yourself in his arms and declared that he was "The best daddy ever!"

Awesome. Just awesome.

Dinner Dilemmas: Mac & Cheese With Beans

2011-12-07T21:04:00.000-08:00

I'm all for eating healthy, but come on Jessica Seinfeld, skim milk and no butter for mac & cheese? Help a girl out. What the heck is wrong with you? Kid's need fat. Kid's like to eat food with a little butter. Cream. Half & Half. Bacon. For the love of God, give them the butter.

But that is not Ms. Jessica's style. No sir. She is hard core. I actually have enjoyed her cook book in the past, which provides recipes with a secret pureed healthy ingredient. Think sweet potatoes, spinach and beans. It is a bit of work, making the purees before you even start the actual dinner, but it gets the kid's to eat their veggies. (Without knowing it, so I ask, is it really teaching healthy eating habits?)

The Seinfeld's are not overweight, their children look fantastic and healthy, so what is all the fuss? Do they really need to be drinking fat-free milk? I for one, do not believe in putting my children on a low-fat diet. Have you seen Zack? He is all skin and bones and runs about a million miles a day. He needs his creamy mac & cheese.

I'm getting off track. Today's Dinner Dilemma is Macaroni and Cheese with Beans, adapted from Jessica Seinfeld's cookbook Deceptively Delicious. In addition to the main course I made Carrot Ribbons, a recipe suggested by a friend. I will tell you now, the dinner went down well. Hallelujah.

Recipes:

Macaroni & Cheese (with beans):

1.5 cups elbow macaroni

1 cup skim milk (I used 2 percent, that is what we have on hand)

Half cup canned white beans

Nonstick cooking spray (I used a tablespoon of BUTTER)

1.5 cups shredded reduced fat cheddar cheese. (I used full fat cheese, because why the heck not?)

Half tsp salt

1/8 tsp garlic powder (I used a clove of real garlic)

1/8 tsp paprika, didn't have it, didn't use it.

1/8 tsp pepper.

Cook macaroni al dente. Drain.

While macaroni is cooking, combine the milk and beans in a food processor and process until pureed.

Coat a large saucepan with cooking spray. (nix that, melted butter in pan and sauteed garlic.) Add the bean mixture to pan and cook over medium heat stirring until smooth, 1 to 2 minutes. Add the cheese and cook until melted and creamy, 1 to 2 minutes longer. Add in salt and pepper. Stir in macaroni and serve warm.

Carrot Ribbons:

2 Carrots peeled into ribbons with a carrot peeler.

1-2 Tablespoons Butter.

Boil a pot of water

Place ribbons in water and cook for 2 minutes. Drain.

Toss carrots with butter.

Zachary gave the dish an unprecedented double five stars! He said he loved it the whole thing. He did a happy dance. That's about it.

Evan did not want to be generous with his stars. He was waving two fingers in the air with one hand, but shoveling mac & cheese in his mouth with the other, so I didn't believe the low score. I eventually convinced him to award the meal.... FOUR STARS. Evan liked it! He really liked it!

And me? Well, I thought that the macaroni and cheese was quiet good. I did not notice the beans, it was plenty creamy and tasty, quick and easy. The carrots were pretty and would make a nice side dish to any meal.

Hurray for me, a success at last. Note to Jessica. Butter baby.

Just butter.

Yup, I've thought of that.

2011-12-02T20:27:00.000-08:00

Yes, I have actually thought about....

Checking into a posh hotel in the middle of the day by myself. To sleep. For five hours.

Getting a tummy tuck.

Getting botox.

Taking a giant garbage bag and collecting each and everyone of my kid's toys, then donating them to charity when they tell me that they are bored.

Selling my wedding ring, wedding pearls and crystal and using the money to pay for a giant European vacation.

Driving my dog and two cats into the "country" and letting them run "free."

Keeping Wiggum's ashes by my bedside for the rest of my life.

Serving my children mac & cheese for dinner every single night for the next month.

Taking all of the money that I would spend on holiday gifts and donating it to a needy family instead.

Creating a public service announcement regarding the risks of having three children. (Maternal insanity is number one on the list.)

Going to McDonald's and ordering a size large egg nog shake and drinking the whole thing.

Dressing Julian in one of those super cute Gymboree GIRL outfits, because the little dude doesn't know the difference.

Making a bonfire with each and every Cars, Spongebob and other ugly licensed tshirt my boys own.

Sporting a wig, I want to see what I would like to have long hair again.

Renewing my vows, just so that I can have a second chance at looking beautiful. I didn't feel like a princess on my wedding day, and I have always wanted to do it again.

Giving up on this blog.

Just kidding. Sort of.

Dinner Dilemmas: Italian Not-Alphebet Soup and Cheesy Bread Dippers/Safeway's O Organic Vegetable Chicken Dinner

2011-11-30T16:08:00.000-08:00

I decided to give Rachael Ray another shot. This week's Dinner Dilemmas is her recipe for

Italian Alphabet Soup & Cheesy Soup Dippers. Unfortunately, it was actually Italian Not-Alphabet Soup. Safeway apparently does not sell alphabet pasta, so I substituted orzo. I think this took away from the fun-for-kids-factor, and also made the soup very pasta heavy, thus I can't hold Rachael 100% accountable for the results.

The recipe:

1 Wedge Parmigiano Reggiano cheese with the rind on

2 Cloves garlic

2 T olive oil

1 Small onion chopped

1 Cup marinara sauce

5 Cups chicken stock

1 Cup alphabet pasta (I used orzo)

2 English muffins

2 T butter

Garlic powder

Dried Italian seasoning blend

1 Cup frozen mixed vegetables

Salt and pepper to taste

Shred 1-1.5 cups parmigiano reggiano, this is for topping your bread dippers and your soup. Trim off the rind and save it, you will put it in the soup. Rachael calls this the "secret ingredient"

Put pot over medium heat, add olive oil, and whole garlic cloves and onion. Cook for 2-3 minutes. Add the marinara sauce and stir. Pour in chicken stock. Put lid on pot, turn heat to high and bring to boil. Once soup comes to a boil add pasta and cheese rind. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer for 7 minutes.

While the soup cooks, make the cheesy dippers. Spread melted butter on English muffin halves, then top with cheese a sprinkle of garlic powder and Italian seasoning. Toast English muffins until cheese melts, then cut them into 2 inch strips.

When the pasta is tender add the vegetables to the soup, season with salt & pepper. Serve in bowls with cheese sprinkled on top.

What did the judges think? As usual mixed results.

Zachary went back and forth, but ultimately gave the meal 4 stars. He indicated that he liked the soup, but he didn't care for the bread as much. He ate a good portion of dinner, so I was happy.

Evan took one look at the soup and started to cry. At first he wouldn't take a bite of the soup, however the threat of no dessert convinced him otherwise. After a few tastes he decided that the meal was worthy of two stars. He liked the bread, but did not care for the soup. Figures.

I thought the whole thing was pretty darn tasty.

Now, so as not to leave out my youngest son, he rated his own dinner. Safeways O Organics Vegetable Chicken Dinner. Judging by the empty baby food jar, I believe he would give this dish 5 stars. I am pretty sure that he felt that the food was rather one dimensional in it's flavor profile, and that the presentation was lacking, however that happens to suit a baby just fine. It looks pretty good on him too doesn't it?

Sad Snow

2011-11-26T19:45:00.000-08:00

I grew up in Wisconsin, where the winters were cold and produced real, honest-to-God snow. Snow, white and fluffy when it first fell softly under the warm glow of the street lamps. I would watch the winter wonderland come to life from my frosted bedroom window. Sitting tucked cozy in bed I could see the snowflakes fall in dizzy circles to the ground, accumulating into soft mounds, which of course would later produce treacherous frozen roads and sidewalks. There is just something fabulous about real life snow. We have all heard "White Christmas" a million times too many, but there is a reason that the song became so popular. The image of snow on Christmas evokes a lot of lovely romanticized images. Woollen hats and mittens, red noses, hot chocolate and children sledding.

There is no white Christmas in Oakland. For the most part I appreciate the lack of ice and sub-zero weather, but on Christmas, I want a little cozy. It's just not Christmas in 60 degrees with green grass.

Oakland tries, sort of. There are some holiday decorations coming up, but it all seems a little ...silly. Take for example Rockridge Snow Day. Perhaps they should have named it, Sad Day. Or Lame Day. We didn't know what to expect when we arrived to the Rockridge neighborhood. I read that there would be snow, entertainment and food. What was it? A slab of melting ice covered snow in the parking lot underneath the Bart station. The kids were milling about on the ice/snow trying to figure out what they were suppose to do. Growing up in a land where snow was plentiful, this little display was PATHETIC. Not to mention it also seemed silly to be drinking hot apple cider on an ice-tea kind of day. I also have to note that Rockridge Snow Day was home to the saddest little Santa that I have ever laid my eyes on. Not only did he lack charisma, he also looked terrible. His wig was falling off, his tummy was lumpy, it was awful. Zachary and Evan looked confused and asked me if this was the real Mr. C, and I assured them that it wasn't.

I know that I should be grateful that I no longer have to worry about the inside of my nose freezing, and I am, but I do miss my chilly holiday.

Thankful

2011-11-23T20:42:00.000-08:00

The trip was fantastic. It could not have been better. I'm not just saying that. Believe me, when we embarked on our little adventure I was skeptical. Our last "vacations" have not gone all that smoothly. This past May we travelled to Monterrey over Mother's Day. I was very pregnant, but I thought we could have a relaxing trip to the aquarium and beach. I was wrong. The kids behaved terribly, fighting, crying, complaining. It was exhausting. Then in August we travelled to Denver for a long weekend. While it was great to visit with friends and family, staying in hotels and eating in restaurants was just a lot of work.

But this trip was exactly what the doctor ordered. We drove to Yosemite. We packed the van as full as possible for a three night get away. It is amazing how much gear one requires when traveling with a baby and two little kids. On the way to the park we stopped in Jamestown, a little state park and an old gold mining town. We purchased candy in an old fashioned sweet shop, dressed up in miners clothing at the museum and made our own candles.

We then drove on to our "cabin" which was about an hour outside of the park. It was a spacious house with a full kitchen. Full kitchen is the key element here. As much as I love eating out, especially on vacation, with the little ones, eating in is far more relaxing.

We spent our days hiking the easiest hikes in the park, and they provided plenty of beauty and fun. The boys loved scrambling over rocks and seeing the impressive waterfalls. The fall colors were lovely, the weather was chilly yet sunny. At the highest altitude we a saw snow, spectacular sparkling white snow winking at us in the sun from the tops of the evergreens.

The evenings were spent at the cabin, grilling under a million twinkling stars. We made smores after dinner, although since we didn't have a working fireplace, they were cooked on the stove top, but melty marshmallow and chocolate? The boys didn't care how they were made. We listened to music, played cards and dealt with an occasional meltdown (yes, those happened.)

This trip could not have come at a better time on this eve of Thanksgiving. Life has been a bit trying lately, adding baby Julian to the chaos of two crazy boys, has not been easy. But getting away from the day to day helped me to focus and enjoy my family. My wonderful family. I am so thankful for all four of my boys. I am a happy lady.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Road Trip/Happy Thanksgiving!

2011-11-19T20:23:00.000-08:00

Our Thanksgiving plans were turned upside down this year. My father and stepmother were going to visit us for the holiday, however as it turned out, dad needed back surgery and their trip was cancelled. That left us with a whole week of no plans. My husband is required to take mandatory vacation time so we decided that we might as well do something. The result? A last minute three night road trip to Yosemite. The kids are thrilled. I am looking forward to the next few days myself, but as I packed for our "get away" I was struck by the volume of STUFF we are shoving into our mini van. HOLY HELL. It takes a lot to make a "vacation" happen these days. I became aware of the sharp contrast between what a holiday meant in 2004 versus what it translates to today.

In 2004 the destination might have required a passport and our accommodations would have included a wrist band and a swim up bar. Today, we are driving 2 hours away and staying in a vacation rental where we are required to bring our own linens. Details, details.

Our packing lists are also very different.

My 2004 Suitcase:

3 Adorable bikinis.

3 brand new sundresses, purchased for the vacation.

2 little black dresses for those fancy dinners out

At least five pairs of shoes, four of which had heels

A full make up bag

1-2 new novels

A stack of trashy magazines

Tylenol (oh, the hangover!)

And today?

Fuzzy slippers

Warm jacket. (not going anyplace tropical afterall)

Flannel pants

3 Sweatshirts

Tennis shoes (no heels needed)

2 Pairs of mom jeans

10 Jars baby food

5 Bibs

Stack of coloring books.

5 Bags of groceries (No dining out. Except maybe a McDonald's run.)

2 Suitcases full of kids clothing

Dog food

Dog

Pack & Play

Double Stroller

Bag O' Hot Wheels

Bag O' Diapers

First aid kit

Portable highchair

Bouncy seat

Baseball bat, baseballs, soccer ball, football

Rain jackets and umbrellas

Tylenol (oh, the whining!)

Two very different lists, two very different trips. Do I miss my 2004 version of vacation? YES! YES! Do I hope to experience it again someday before I am 100? YES! YES!

Will this trip be awesome (if not exhausting)? I am so thankful to say-YES! Of course! I will be with my family. I am the luckiest woman in the world.

Happy Thanksgiving. Gobble, Gobble!

Dinner Dilemmas: Pizza Burgers

2011-11-18T18:50:00.000-08:00

It's only week three and already, I'm losing steam with dinner dilemmas. Here is the problem. One of my critics just isn't interested. No matter what I prepare, he takes only one or two small bites before leaving the table. It's more then a little bit discouraging. I am beginning to think that the only meal he would consume a reasonable tasting portion of involves ice cream.

In any case this weeks dinner was Pizza Burgers. It is actually a variation on a dish my mom used to call Formage Burgers.

Recipe:

1lb ground beef

1 tsp oregano

salt & pepper

shredded mozzarella cheese

peperoni

marinara sauce

Mix ground beef oregano, salt and pepper.

Form a flat hamburger patty and then place a small handful of cheese and a slice of peperoni on top, cover with another small flat patty and smoosh together. Repeat to make as many patties as you want.

Fry burgers on stove top. Top burgers with warm marinara sauce.

Zachary gave the dish 5 Stars and joined the ranks of the clean plate club.

Evan gave the dish zero stars. Surprise, surprise. I asked him why. He explained that the food was "yucky" then he asked for dessert. You can guess what happened next.

On Aging

2011-11-15T20:02:00.000-08:00

None of us live forever, certainly this is why the passing of time is such a popular topic among writers. We all marvel at how quickly the years pass, particularly after we become parents. We watch newborns turn into toddlers and then children in the blink of an eye. We see the lines appear on our own faces and wonder, when did that happen? We witness our own parents age, their bodies change, their hair grey. Unstoppable. Unstoppable. Julian is now almost six months. His first little baby tooth is pushing through. Unstoppable. Unstoppable.

It's inevitable, and perhaps that is the hardest part. Certainly for those who can afford it plastic surgery can mask the evidence, but even for them, it doesn't stop the passage of time, it doesn't truly keep one young.

Growing up in a youth obsessed culture, I admit that at age 37, I already miss my younger self. The tone in my skin and my calves. The brightness of my eyes, the whitness of my teeth, the tightness of my tummy. Aging has already left it's physical mark.

Recently I was telling a friend about my 1997 trip to London. I lived there for six months on a student visa. I lived in a one bedroom flat with my boyfriend and two other people. I was a waitress. I often spent my mornings wandering the streets, parks and museums of the city on my own. I took my time, and reported to nobody. I drank tea in cafes, had a pint in a pub, and read a book in Hyde Park on my own time. Tonight I looked back at my photo album from that time (see above pictures) and became quite nostalgic. I miss that woman. Young, free, ambitious, pretty, hard working. My whole life ahead of me.

That isn't to say that things did not turn out well. Of course they did. I married that boyfriend. We found careers, traveled, and created a beautiful family. I love my life, but I am afraid that it is passing too quickly, and my growing children remind me of that every single day.

Lately there are times when I wish that I could not only press "pause" on life, but that I could also rewind, and go back to my younger self. It's hard to see that person fade and to know that I can never, ever go back.

We all get older. If we choose to have children we proudly watch them take our places amongst the ranks of the youth. For me it brings great happiness, but also some sorrow as I begin to fully acknowledge our circle of life.

Best Email. Ever.

2011-11-13T09:09:00.000-08:00

I just received this email from a dear friend, who like me has two little boy terrors at home. I just had to share.

Subject: Pee

Are you cleaning pee of your floor and walls daily because your boys don't have aim? Do you cry because you just scrubbed the floors and 5 minutes later there is pee surrounding the toilet? I do.

Fucking Pee.

Miss you.

God I love this woman.

Dinner Dilemmas-Pasta & Trees: Meh

2011-11-09T20:21:00.000-08:00

It's time for Dinner Dilemmas once again. Before I dive into the recipe, let me first say that today was one of those days. A day when I tried really hard, and yet my efforts just did not yield the results I hoped for.

Wednesday is a "minimum day" in Oakland public schools, this means the bell rings at 1:30 instead of 2:45. I planned a play date with one of Zack's classmates as a way to pass the time. My hope was that the boys could at least partially entertain themselves.

I picked the boys up at school and served them snack once we arrived home. As soon as the last morsel of brownie was consumed the kids were looking at me as if to say "what's next?" Crud. Luckily I had prepared a holiday inspired craft, hand print turkeys. A simple project. We painted hands and left our imprints on foam. From there the idea was to decorate with markers, glitter, googly eyes and the like. The result? Zack had several meltdowns due to "mess ups," I was holding Captain No Nap, and trying to clean up paint spills with one hand. The pictures were cute, but not worth the tears...or the mess.

Now to the dinner. The recipe:

Pasta & Trees (Rachael Ray, Cooking Rocks! Rachel Ray 30-Minute Meals For Kids)

1 pound broccoli tops

1 pound pasta (corkscrew)

1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

2 tbsp butter

3 cloves garlic

1 cup ricotta cheese

1/2 cup Parmesan

Separate broccoli into small trees by pulling them apart. Put broccoli florets into a pot and cover with water. Bring to boil and add 4 pinches of salt. Cook broccoli about 5 minutes. Drain.

Boil pasta water add 4 pinches of salt, add pasta. Cook until al dente.

Pour oil and butter into frying pan and heat over low heat. When butter melts add garlic and cook 5 minutes. Add broccoli to garlic.

Drain pasta and add to broccoli. Add ricotta and grated cheese and stir. Add salt and pepper.

My comments:

Just like the rest of my day... Meh. It was fine. Easy to prepare. Tasted fine. Rather bland. Perhaps perfectly kiddo-bland.

The Judges:

Zachary:

Three Stars. "It was okay mom" was about all I got out of my critic. He ate a good portion of it, but was not exactly licking his lips.

Evan:

Evan seems a bit confused by our rating system. Like his brother he gave the dish three stars, but his comments were that "it wasn't good", and he really didn't eat much of anything. (Surprise, surprise!)

The result? Oh Rachael Ray, how I want to like you. We share the same name, you are cute and bubbly and believe in simple cooking, however this recipe was just so-so.... I spent $16.95 on your cookbook, so I will give you another shot.

So here is to a more spunky day tomorrow-better food, happier artists and a baby who naps!

No Thanks

2011-11-06T08:44:00.000-08:00

Dear Universe,

I am sure you thought you were doing me a giant favor by turning back the clocks and giving me an extra hour today. I can see why you might think that, however quite frankly I do not wish to accept this gift. I know, I know I should be grateful for every blessed second I get to spend with my beautiful boys, so an extra hour today should be welcomed with open arms. The problem is, I feel like I have plenty of time with my princes. To be honest, I don't need a second more of playing referee in the battle of "that's mine," "he got more," or "my super powers are stronger than your super powers."

Furthermore, by setting back the clocks you are now ensuring a week of rising before the sun, most likely around 5:30am, while the boys "adjust" to the time difference. And the afternoons? They just got longer. Now that darkness will fall during my go-to 4:00 activity (playing at the park), I will be forced to come up with a whole host of creative activities to do at home. I was strained to come up with the paper plate jack-o-lantern craft, if that tells you anything about my artistic abilities.

So great Universe, you can take back your extra hour today, I just simply have no use for it.

Best Regards,

Rachel

Occupy Kargas Inc?

2011-11-03T21:07:00.000-07:00

Dear Kargas Inc. Team,

I know that some of you have been inspired by Occupy Oakland & Wallstreet. We understand your enthusiasm for this effort, however we have heard rumors about "Occupy Kargas Inc" and this concerns us.

As CEO of Kargas Inc, I want to make sure that you are fully informed about our financials. For starters, we are not a profitable organization, furthermore unlike most CEO's in our country I do not receive a salary, nor any bonus what-so-ever. That is correct. NO BONUS!

I also want to insure you that the senior leadership of this organization works incredibly hard. Vacation days? Zero. Sick days? Zero. Holidays? None.

And the hours? Just yesterday I was called into meetings at 12, 2 and 4:30 am. I am not afraid of hard work. Around the clock.

So please, consider the facts before you protest.

But if you must protest please follow the following guidelines:

Inside voices.

If vandalizing, please use only the Crayola washable markers.

Remember to practice non-violence. Usually protesters do not hit each other. There is typically no biting at rallies.

Thank you for your cooperation in these matters.

Warm Regards,

Mommy

Dinner Dilemma: Sweet & Sour Baked Chicken

2011-11-02T21:34:00.000-07:00

The boys were quite excited when I told them of their new role as official food critics. I let them know that one day a week they can tell me exactly what they think about my cooking (but they still have to eat their dinner before any dessert!)

First recipe:

Sweet & Sour Baked Chicken with Brown Rice. (recipe adapted from Better Baby Food by Daina Kalinins and Joanne Saab)

4 boneless skinless chicken breasts

1/2 cup tomato sauce

3 tbsp brown sugar

2 tbsp cider vinegar

1/2 cup crushed pineapple with juice

1 clove garlic, minced

cooked rice

1. Place chicken breasts in prepared casserole.

2. In small bowl, combine tomato sauce, sugar, vinegar, pineapple (with juice) and garlic; spoon over chicken. Bake in a preheated oven for 45 minutes or until chicken is no longer pink and juices run clear.

3. Serve chicken and rice over cooked rice.

My Remarks:

Super, super easy, literally about five minutes of work. I actually liked the taste, it is a bit sweet, but it reminded me of the sweet and sour stuffed peppers my mom made for me as a kid. I would eat it again.

But now..... THE JUDGES.

Zachary

Zachary gave the recipe FIVE STARS! He almost cleaned his plate.

Zack's comments: "I liked the chicken because of the sweet pinnapple." The heavens sing.

Evan

Evan was not so enthusiastic. He gave the dish two stars. I asked him what he liked about the dinner and he said the rice. I asked him what he didn't like about the dinner and he said the chicken, which was obvious since he ate only about two bites of it.

Evan's comments: "I didn't like the chicken. It wasn't good."

Success? Only if I am trying to feed just one child...

Dinner Dilemmas: Meet My Critics

2011-11-02T20:10:00.000-07:00

Zachary Kargas

Food Favorites: Peperoni pizza, peanut butter and jelly, bean & cheese burritos, cheeseburgers (hold the bun), fruit, all sweets.

Dislikes: Most casseroles, pigs in a blanket, spicy food, Chinese food, pizza without peperoni, bananas, eggs, salad.

Interview:

Do you think that mommy is a good cook? Sort of.

What is the best thing she ever cooked for you? Bean and cheese burrito.

What is the worst thing she ever cooked for you? Those roll up things with the ham.

What do you wish mommy would cook more of? Bean and cheese burritos.

What is your favorite restaurant? Subway.

Why? Because they have good sandwiches and Cheetos.

Evan Kargas

Food Favorites: Macaroni & Cheese, fruit, macaroni & cheese, PB&J, goldfish crackers, cereal, macaroni & cheese, milk, yogurt covered raisins and did I mention macaroni & cheese?

Dislikes: Eggs, meat, the crust part of pizza (which means anything under the cheese), pickles, tomatoes, bananas, burritos, chicken, fried rice.

Interview

Do you think that mommy is a good cook? Um..... yeah.

What is the best thing that she ever made for you? A corn dog.

What is the worst thing that she ever made for you? Spaghetti.

What do you wish she would cook more of? Subway.

What is your favorite restaurant? Subway.

Why? They have prizes and cookies.

So there you have it folks. I have some tough cookies to impress.

How I will be rated:

We will use a star rating system.

* Yuck!

** Not very good

*** OK

**** Pretty darn good

***** AWESOME!

First recipe is coming up tomorrow, stay tuned!

Trick-Or-Treat!

2011-10-31T16:25:00.000-07:00

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! This year I have two Darth Vaders and a baby Yoda. The Yoda hats are courtesy of my talented mama who knit them!

Hope everyone has a safe and fun Halloween!

Dinner Dilemmas

2011-10-30T15:19:00.000-07:00

Remember those commercials for Life Cereal in the 80's? "Mikey likes it!" the kids cheered as the picky eater gobbled up his breakfast, apparently this was a miracle.

I feel like that with my own kids, particularly around dinner time. With the exception of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese and occasionally chicken nuggets they seem to turn up their noses at everything I serve them.

Exasperated, I sent out and SOS on Facebook asking for meal ideas. I received a few good ones and eagerly tried them out. I stuffed crescent rolls with ham and cheese. "Disgusting" was all my boys said. I served up tacos in giant shell pasta and topped them with grated cheese and tortilla chips. Totally disgusting, they said. A pound of hamburger meat wasted. Since then I have been on a mission to make a meal that my kids will eat. It isn't even about getting them to consume their veggies anymore, it's about me....winning. I had one small victory the other day when I made tuna patties. I didn't think there was a chance in hell they would like tuna patties of all things, particularly when they had called pigs in a blanket disgusting, yet they gobbled them up. Cleaned their plates. "Mikey likes it!" I thought to myself.

So I am continuing my quest to cook up meals my kid's will call delicious. I am committing to preparing one new recipe per week and chronicling it on this blog. I will post the recipe, pictures and my kid's review of the dinner. I will happily take suggestions from my lovely readers. I am looking for meals that take under 20 minutes to prepare (not including baking time),and call for ingredients that can be purchased at the local Safeway. PLEASE email me your ideas. rkargas@hotmail.com

Up this week-sweet and sour baked chicken with crushed pineapple.....

For you, my dear.

2011-10-25T18:32:00.000-07:00

I walk in the front door and see him. He is sitting on the sofa, fixated. I know better than to interrupt.

"Hello" I mutter softly and take our dinner into the kitchen. I emerge a few minutes later with my plate. He hasn't moved, his brow is furrowed, and beads of sweat are accumulating on his forehead. He hasn't eaten, a beer is clutched tightly in his left hand. Liquid comfort.

The air is thick. I say nothing. So much tension.

He starts to pace and runs his free hand through his hair. I don't understand what is happening anymore, but I know that it is close to the end. I just want it to be over already, I have had enough.

Then it happens. The moment of truth. His eyes widen. "No!" he shouts, "No! No! No!". He hurls the remote control at the sofa.

"It's just a game." I laugh.

I'll know better next time.

The earth moved.

2011-10-21T20:22:00.000-07:00

I felt the earth move. No, I mean I really did...twice. That is because two years ago my husband dragged us across the the map to earthquake country, and I finally experienced my first quake.

In all honesty it was totally uneventful, in fact when the first one hit, it took me a minute to realize what had happened. I was parking the car in front of Zack's school at pick up time. I felt a couple strange bumps, and worried at first that I may have accidentally run over a neighborhood pet. It wasn't until I got out of the vehicle and started talking to some of the other parents that I realized we had just experienced a real-life earthquake.

I was surprised but none of the kids seemed to be frightened, even though they had been herded out onto the playground. We went on about our day as usual. Later that evening the second one hit, a light jolt of the baker's rack in the kitchen is how we knew.

No big deal right?

Right.

Except.

Except that it got me thinking. Earthquakes are entirely unpredictable. I grew up in the Midwest, the land of tornadoes. Tornadoes can be scary, but at least you can usually see them coming. The sky grows dark. Thunder, lightening. Predictable. But an earthquake? Sunny 75 degrees, or rainy and cold-BAM an earthquake can hit. Bam! What do you do? There is no time. Bam! Hopefully your not on a bridge. That falls.

So what can you do? Buy an earthquake kit. I went to Target today and purchased Zachary a kit as requested by his school. 2 juice boxes, 2 cans of tuna, a package of tissues, a flashlight, fruit leather, granola bars, a pair of socks. Seriously? That was the list. An earthquake hits that is big enough to keep me from son, and a pair of socks and two cans of juice are going to be enough?

I feel a bit helpless. The world is bigger than us. There are dangers we cannot control.

Duh.

Someday

2011-10-19T21:04:00.000-07:00

According to my son I am one heck of a terrible mommy. The worst mom in the world in fact. At least that was what he told me this afternoon, just after I hosted a 3.5 hour post kindergarten play-date at our house and made the kids chocolate chip cookies from scratch.

I suppose I sound like a cliche, but will he ever realize just how good he has it? How freaking awesome I am? Hello, if I hadn't taken the initative he would have had zero play-dates with his kindergarten pals, as I seem to be the only mom willing to invite the munchkins over. Does he remember the baseball/Penguins of Madagascar themed birthday I threw for him and twenty of his buddies? That's right. He insisted on a dual themed party. Baseball. Penguins of Madagascar. Of course! But we did it, and it was fantastic.

Do I get him no less than three types of cereal and two types of berries for his daily "berry blast" breakfast? Why yes I do.

Do I wash his dirty bed linens every single day, because he wets through his pull ups at six years old? You bet!

Do I go to every single crappy animated-rated G movie that comes out? Uh-huh. I even buy the over-priced "kids" pack.

Do I engage in a power struggle over the hideous "graphic T-shirts" he insists on wearing instead of my mother's hand-knit sweaters? Nope. I let him wear what he wants to.

Maybe we should forget about Friday's "Spaghetti Night" at the elementary school. Personally I would prefer sushi. And Sunday's Harvest Festival? Yeah, I'm thinking lattes and The New York Times. How does that sound kid? You want bad? Damn, I can show you bad.

But I'm a good mommy and I love you. Even if you don't yet quite get it.

Someday.

SLEEP

2011-10-17T11:15:00.000-07:00

My Dear Old Friend,

It has been such a long time, and yet I still long for you. We spent some lovely times together, you and I, do your remember those days?

You would come to me in the evening hours and wrap your loving arms around me until morning. Our weekends together were even better. On Saturdays and Sundays you would stay with me until long after the sun came up, perhaps even rendezvousing again in the mid afternoon.

I am so sorry that I have had to leave you so often. My life has grown complicated, so many distractions. To be honest, most of my family does not care for you. I know, it pains me too. If it gives any comfort I spend much of my time trying to persuade my stubborn kin and help them to see your beauty and benefit. Alas, I have a long road ahead of me.

Please stay with me. Know that one day our relationship will return to the way it was. It has to.

Much Love,
Rachel

To Julian

2011-10-15T19:45:00.000-07:00

Today we had a baby naming ceremony and celebration for Julian. Any Jews out there would know that you do not do a "baby naming" ceremony for a boy. A boy should get a bris eight days after birth. But I'm a bad Jew, and I opted for something a little different.

The ceremony was at our home and lead by my stepfather. We said a few traditional prayers, and I read a little something about why Julian was given his name. We then celebrated with cocktails and cake! It was simple, intimate and lovely.

Below is what I read to Julian today.

Julian, today we celebrate your birth and welcome you to our family and community. Although this event is pretty nontraditional in Judaism we have made it a family tradition, and each of your older brothers had a similar celebration.

Your Hebrew name is for your great grandfather. It would have meant a lot to him to know that you were given a Hebrew name and that we were raising you in a loving home, exposing you to your Jewish heritage.

We named you Julian for no other reason than I love the way that it sounds. To me your name is lovely, masculine, but still soft. The name came to me before I knew for sure that you existed and I felt that it was meant to be.

Your middle name Michael is in honor of your uncle. Your uncle Michael is an amazing man, he has so many qualities that I wish for you. More than anything I find your uncle to be incredibly warm, compassionate and generous. He is a loyal friend and brother and he is happiest when he is helping others. He is also very silly, laughs easily and has a terrific sense of humor.

Julian we feel so incredibly lucky that you are here and that you are ours. With you our family is complete.

Who am I?

2011-10-09T20:39:00.000-07:00

I am an all you can eat flea buffet for our resident pests.

I am a 24-hour diner with a bottomless mug of milk for the baby.

I am a pack-animal, carrying a baby, pushing a stroller and holding a variety of jackets, Hot Wheels, lunch boxes and snacks at any given moment.

I am a mobile waste disposal unit. Please, oh please, give me your used tissues, half-eaten granola bars and the dirty band aid that you just picked up off of the sidewalk.

I am an energizer bunny. No need for sleep here. I just go! Go! Go!

I am a living fun-factory, answering the question "What should we do now?" at least 132 times a day.

I am a birthday party event planner, a social coordinator and a homework monitor.

I am the Easter bunny, Santa Claus, Tooth Fairy and Hanukkah Harry.

I am Mommy.

Alert

2011-09-30T14:00:00.000-07:00

The Neighborhood Watch Committee is issuing an Alert.

Please be on the lookout for Rachel Kargas/Alias Getrealmommy. It is believed that she is mentally unstable and possibly dangerous.

Rachel (photographed above) is five foot four, has an (unusually chic) short haircut and is covered in flea bites. She was last seen wearing a black tshirt stained with spit up and a pair of ill-fitting Old Navy maternity sweatpants.

She has been spotted wandering the area with her four month old baby strapped to her chest, pushing an empty red double stroller while screaming "Hurry Up! We're late" at her two disheveled sons trailing behind her. Based on her boys appearence there is concern that her sons are being emotionally abused and forced to wear miss-matching outfits.

While it is unlikely that Ms. Kargas is armed with anything more than one of her kitchen knives (which is too dull to cut string cheese), she is considered unstable and should be approached with caution.

Off the deep end

2011-09-28T18:26:00.000-07:00

I'm on the edge. This has been a difficult week, one that has left me zapped of all energy, sitting on the sofa listless while the boys eat Micky Mouse chicken nuggets and frozen edamame. Only the best for my kids.

If things were different I would have posted something witty about the rained out 6th birthday party we threw for Zachary on Sunday. I would have had pictures. But I'm worn out, and the battery is dead on the camera, and I can't locate the charger, because my house is in total chaos and I am completely unorganized.

No nothing tragic has happened. It's just the stuff of life, and it has worn me down. I feel ready to throw in the towel, wave the white flag, but really what does that mean? There is no coast guard to rescue the sinking ship of Mommyland.

Zack turned six on Sunday. We had a party with twenty kids and parents. It was the only day in months that it rained, turning the park party impossible. We moved it home. The bounce house was three hours late. Hot dogs were made, cake was eaten, and the kids had a blast, but I was exhausted. The house was turned upside down, and I was up until 10pm cleaning up on a Sunday night.

Monday and Tuesday took an unexpected turn when we had to get Zachary's infected tooth pulled. Monday I had to go to two different dentist offices with three crabby kids. In and out of the car, sitting in the waiting room, trying to calm a frightened six year old's fears, appease a wild three year old while nursing a squirmy four month old. Tuesday we spent the entire morning at the dentist. Zachary had to be sedated for the procedure and his biggest concern was the fact that he had to skip breakfast. When we left the office at noon, he was in tears. "You mean we missed breakfast?" he wailed. Even a chocolate milkshake could not comfort him. Meanwhile, I was feeling pretty bummed out about the unexpected $450 price tag, and that is with dental insurance. Yay.

Today we officially evicted the fleas. Flea Busters arrived bright and early, turned our house upside down and left a yucky white powder all over the house. I am told we should see results... in six weeks. SIX WEEKS people. I already look like I have the chicken pox for Pete's sakes! I don't have six weeks. $500 later, we sit and wait for results.

And while all of this is going on, I am sick. I haven't slept for three nights, due to a sore throat and a fever. Sadly, Ju-Ju Bean is now running a low grade fever as well.

It just keeps getting better.

Pray for me folks. I just might go over the deep end.

A BIG Decision

2011-09-21T16:12:00.000-07:00

It was a big day today. I quit my job. People don't know whether to congratulate or console me, and to be honest my feelings on the matter are fairly complicated.

I liked my job. A lot. I like working. I don't believe that I fit the classic stay-at-home-mom stereotype, the June Cleaver who loves making her own baby food, heads up the PTA and doesn't mind a day of hanging around the house with the kids. I get bored easily. I am a very social being and I want to be around other grown-ups.

Yet, baby number three has changed everything. After Zachary and Evan were born I felt more than ready to put on a pair of high-heels and head back to the office, breast pump slung over my shoulder. But having a third being to take care of seems to have made things exponentially more challenging. Perhaps it is also that Zack and Evan are getting older and their needs are shifting as well. There is homework, play dates, lunches to pack, meals to prepare, endless amounts of laundry and mess to clean up. Fleas to kill. Keeping our life together seems to be an enormous job, and I feel that adding on an outside career would simply crush us.

So today I called my boss, whom I adore and quit the best job I ever had. I have to hope it was a good decision. I have to pray that I will stay sane and learn to stick to a tight budget. I know that the time with my baby will be well spent, he is my last. I now can take my time with him, nurse him without worrying about pumping, be there for all of his firsts and hopefully form an even deeper bond with him. I am lucky for this opportunity.

None of the decisions are easy ones. Women face a big delimma these days and sometimes it seems like there is no way to win. Today however I am going to choose to celebrate and toast to this new chapter.

Cheers!

Six Rocks. Happy (almost) Birthday Zachary

2011-09-18T21:01:00.000-07:00

Six Reasons Why Six Rocks

1) You believe that someday you can be an Astronaut or a Major League Baseball player or BOTH.

2) You have no concept of calories. Kraft Macaroni & Cheese, ice cream sandwiches and french fries, BRING IT ON!

3) You can make a new best friend anywhere you go.

4)It is totally acceptable to wear ratty t-shirts and sweats to almost any occasion.

5) If you get in a fight with a bad-ass on the playground and kick him in the shins, all will be forgiven as long as you say sorry.

6) You believe that you are the center of the universe and your parents go right along with it.

Man vs. (very small) beasts

2011-09-14T20:31:00.000-07:00

You plague me, you disgusting pests. You have infested my pets and my home, depositing itchy calling cards all over my body. Oh, how I itch. I have scratched each bite into a bloody scab, leaving me looking no less than diseased.

I have declared war, but you won round one. You survived your habitat being attacked with hot water, heavy vacuuming and pesticides. My brave four-legged soldiers endured toxic, humiliating baths, and yet you survived.

Do not think we are giving up. We will not surrender. Round two commenced today. More bathing, more pesticides, more vacuuming. We will wear you down. Your tiny bites cannot kill us, only drive me to insanity, making me more likely to get rid of your comfy homes forever. Yes, I will sacrifice my four legged friends for the sake of the greater good.

You must be banished and destroyed forever.

You haven't seen (or tasted) the last of me.

Lucky Stars

2011-09-11T18:44:00.000-07:00

Here we are on September 11, 2011. Ten years. I know any post that I create today will be cliche, something that thousands and thousands of others have written about, and probably more eloquently. Yet it is hard to let this day pass without saying something, acknowledging the significance of the date on the calendar.

Today I give thanks. On the anniversary of the worst day, I want to make an outward statement of gratitude. I know that I complain quite a bit. I talk about the difficulties of parenthood and the everyday burdens of life often. But I am lucky.

On the day the towers fell, I was in my mid-twenties. I had no children. I shed tears for the babies that lost fathers and mothers in the senseless violence, however I did not truly comprehend it. Today I have a better understanding of what it might have been like. A belly full of new life, a young father who will never come home. A three year old trying to grasp that mommy has gone away forever. A kindergartner searching for reassurance as she is faced with the countless images of terrified adults. I pray that this will never be my reality, that I will remain lucky.

While contemplating the magnitude of this day, I was also reminded of the more personal, everyday tragedies that I have bared witness to over the past year. Just today I read about a fellow mommy blogger who's twelve year old son literally got ripped away from her own backyard in a flash flood. He drowned. He is gone forever. A pain I cannot begin to understand.

On a smaller scale I have watched friends struggle through divorce, miscarriages and life changing injuries. For them it has been an unbelievably difficult year. Life is hard and I have had it very easy. I am lucky, and now I give thanks. I am thankful for my sons and my husband, my parents and my sister, my nieces and nephews, in-laws and friends. I'll knock on wood, I'll spit three times, but in the end it's luck, shear luck.

Tonight I am thanking my lucky stars for all that I have, and I am thinking of those who have lost so very much.

Summer's gone.

2011-09-05T19:56:00.000-07:00

Labor Day. The end of summer. It's always a little sad, that last day at the pool, that last family barbecue. Today, the passing of this season holds extra meaning. I spent the past year anticipating summer. Through the rainy winter months my stomach grew and grew, while I held tight to the promise of warmer times, when damp cold would give way to sunshine and literally new life.

Julian was born just after Memorial Day, in the wee hours of May 31, 2011. As I held my new baby that rainy spring morning, I knew that I had an entire summer ahead of me. A summer filled with long afternoon walks and star lit nights, rocking my newborn to slumber.

We did not waste the past three months, they were well spent. We visited with family, attended every festival and fair that we could, we boarded a plane and traveled to Denver, we made the most of our time. Best of all, more than ever I was able to focus, focus on taking everything in. I spent moments just looking into the eyes of my new son. Perhaps because I know he is my last baby, I have worked at being present in the moment and I have taken many mental photographs. His chubby cheeks, his gummy smile, the softness of his hair. Spectacular.

September has come. Fall is upon us. School has started and life pushes forward. It happened too fast. Today, I gave away the last of Julian's newborn clothing, he has outgrown them. I will never have a need for a size 1 diaper again, and this gives me pause. A chapter is closing. Forever. So many milestones. My high school graduation. My first day of college. The day David proposed. Our wedding. Our first home. My 30th birthday. That first positive pregnancy test....

And here we are. My third son is three months. I will have no more babies. The real milestones are now those of my children. My beautiful (sometimes lousy) boys. I cannot believe I am here, that this is my life. So much of the time I still feel as if I am the child. A little girl in need of encouragement. But no, no, I am the grown up, the mommy, raising the next generation. It all moves so fast, one season to the next.

Summer is gone. It is time to move on. Back to work. On to the next stage. Closing a chapter.

Forever.

An Update

2011-09-01T09:07:00.001-07:00

I have become a very bad, or at least infrequent blogger. Truth be told I miss it, however I don't seem to have the time or energy for creative posts. By the time we get the boys to bed each night I can barely muster up a weak "Get back into bed!" let alone write more than a Facebook status update.

Life is busy, one task after another, an endless cycle of meals, cleaning, diaper changing, paperwork, shopping, nursing, nursing, nursing! It is not without joy, however it is exhausting and there are times that I just want to get off the ride. There are times when I want to be left alone without anyone needing or wanting something from me. Sometimes I get an hour of time like that before bed, and rather than blog, I usually end up sitting and staring blankly at reality TV. What can I say?

I did want to do a brief update, there has been much going on. Last weekend my dear friend Shannon visited from Colorado. We spent three days eating, drinking, consignment shopping and chatting. It left me feeling a mix of refreshed and well....bloated. It was an awesome weekend and I feel so lucky to have such an amazing friend!

On Monday we entered the world of Oakland Public Schools when Zack became an official kindergartner. Zachary was very excited for his first day of school, no tears were shed, and he came home that day with his first ever homework assignment. So far Zachary seems to be enjoying his new school and his classmates. I remain skeptical of the school, it seems highly unorganized and the communication has been spotty at best. I am guessing that this will be the first of many gripes that I have with our public schools, but unless something changes dramatically with our financial situation, we won't be sending the boys to private school, so we will have to make the best of it.

Ju-Ju Bean changes daily. He has been smiling and alert, but for the past few days he has been trying on his lungs for size. A lot of crying. A lot. In fact... I hear him now.

Translation Please

2011-08-25T19:33:00.000-07:00

"Ahhh..girgglegirggle..gaahhh....arrrrraaaah"

To my uneducated ears, those sounds are merely adorable, however perhaps they have greater meaning...

Translation:

"Hurry up with the food! Speaking of food I have noticed that the milk has been tasting faintly of Cabernet. Don't you know that I'm a whiskey guy? I am. Please adjust accordingly. Also, I have to inform you that I am not crazy about your musical selections. Dan Zanes? Andy Z? And worse yet, Daddy sometimes forces us all to listen to the Decemberists. No, I prefer the jazz standards. Duke Ellington, Miles Davis, Billie Holiday. And do tell, what on earth is up with those two noisy brutes you have running around here, half naked most of the time? Where did you find those barbarians? Someone needs to teach those boys some manners! And pardon me, but that was not gas! I was in fact smiling. God only knows why."

Cute huh?

Rainbow Children

2011-08-19T18:45:00.000-07:00

Rainbow children, rainbow children

go where you're going to, do what you're going to do

our love will guide you through.

These are the words that we sang to our children as they received their "diplomas" today. Dressed in tye-died t-shirts that they made for the occasion, each child was presented with a piece of paper and a giant sunflower as we marked the transition from preschool to kindergarten. It does sound a little ridiculous, and yet I got teary eyed as I watched the procession.

Zack's moving on to kindergarten is not what tugs at my heartstrings, in all honesty he could have made that transition last year. Rather it is leaving the community that we have built at the JCC over the past two years. When we first arrived in Berkeley, my first order of business was to secure a preschool for Zachary. I looked at several and settled on the Jewish Community Center of Berkeley. It wasn't the prettiest or the most sophisticated, but it was very warm. I am so glad that we made that decision, it has had a significant impact on our lives. Friendships have been formed for both Zachary and myself. I have met genuine, giving people who have offered endless support and generosity over the past two years. These are people I saw on a weekly if not daily basis. I know that some of these relationships will not withstand the distance that separate schools will impose upon us, but I am hopeful that some of these relationships will last.

Today, as I watched Zachary interact with his buddies, so happy and comfortable, I felt a mixture of pride, happiness and worry. Will he be able to recreate these friendships in kindergarten? Will he continue to be this successful in a more challenging environment?

And like the words of the song-

Rainbow children, rainbow children,

go where you're going to

do what you're going to do,

our love will guide you through.

Zachary, I will be there for you always, supporting who you are and what you want to do. I believe in you. I believe that you are smart, funny and lovable. Whatever happens, I hope that my faith in you and love for you will in fact, guide you through.

Moving On

2011-08-16T19:38:00.000-07:00

Zachary is "graduating" from preschool on Friday. The JCC is making quite the to-do over the mini-milestone. There will be a ceremony with music, stories and food. Of course daddy and I will attend, camera in hand, practice I suppose for the future rites of passages that await us.

If Zack were to give a speech at his preschool graduation:

"Fellow students, respected professors and mentors, friends, family, it is an honor to be celebrating this momentous occasion with you. Today marks an end of an era, two years of education, friendships, self discovery and snacks. I have learned so much during my time at the JCC. The alphabet, the days of the week, the months of the year, how to write my name and the dangers of shoving beads up my nose.

We have had our ups (remember the rocking Purim carnival of 2010?) and our downs (can you say sugar-free vegan muffins for "Sophie's" birthday treat?), and through it all we have stuck together. (Except for all of the times Lev told me I wasn't invited to his birthday party after various playground scuffles).

These have been good years, and they will not be forgotten. Today we say goodbye, and move in separate directions, on to our assigned public schools where we will be challenged in new ways. We are moving on to kindergarten. Kindergarten. It sounds a little scary doesn't it? Longer days, bigger classes, higher expectations. Free choice will be limited to thirty minutes a day. No longer will we be free to play super-hero vs. Spongebob and pick our noses for 4 hours a day. We are facing hard-cold reality. Homework. Desks. Backpacks.

But I am pressing forward with the confidence that I will someday learn how to tie these new shoes my mom bought for me, and that if I keep eating grow-big food I will be strong enough for the major leagues very soon.

So thank you all for the past two years. I wish you luck as you embark on your new adventures!

Can someone please give my mommy a tissue? She must have something in her eye."

August 14, 1999. (Warning: Mushy)

2011-08-14T19:02:00.000-07:00

August 14, 1999.

Just shy of my 25th birthday, I put on a white dress and pledged "I do" in front of a crowd of 135 friends and family. It was a beautiful hot summer day in Madison, Wisconsin when I married my college sweetheart. We met early freshman year. We started dating in October, 1992 and we never broke up, not even for a day.

I did not go to the university to meet a husband. I had a few boyfriends in high school, but had never been particularly popular, I didn't believe that boys liked me all that much. About 15 minutes into my first "house party" I learned that I was wrong, yet I pushed all of the coveted male attention aside once I met "Dave" in a cramped dorm room of Ogg Hall. I was on a date with one of Dave's friends, John, a rather attractive, cocky freshman who appeared to have very little interest in me once our date began. Dave and I spent most of the evening chatting and eventually flirting over a sundae at the now defunct Ella's Deli on State Street. There was an awkward moment at the end of the evening where I stood with John and Dave and one of them had to walk me home. John was chivalrous and took me home from our date, but not before I gave Dave my phone number. It took him a week to call back, but it was worth it.

"Is Rachel there?" a male voice said on the other end of line. "That's me" I answered.

"I don't know if you remember me" Dave said. "But I am your future husband."

He was joking at that time, but it was a lovely prophecy, and here we are in 2011, with three boys, a dog and two cats between us.

I am amazed every day that it happened like it did. So young. So random. So meant-to-be. Our courtship was a mix of frat parties, study dates and cross-country road trips. By the time we graduated I had no doubt in my mind that Dave and I were "forever."

Relative to our ages we have already been together "forever", but I know that there is so much more to look forward to. Our boys will grow up, we will have new adventures, and we will do it all together.

Happy Anniversary David.

Love,

Your wife.

Random Thursday Thoughts

2011-08-11T19:52:00.000-07:00

Random Thursday Thoughts....

1) Damn my lousy Internet connection. Just lost an entire Getrealmama Post. Must have been the best one ever....for sure.

2) Can my overachieving Facebook friends please cool it for a little while? You are making me feel pretty darn lazy. An example post: "9.5 mile run this morning before Extreme Spinning! Rewarding myself with an egg white omelet! Yum!" Please. How can I respond? "Ran 2.4 miles last Saturday. Now eating a bagel with full fat cream cheese and a latte....

3) Birthdays. Love them or hate them? I have always been a lover of the birthday celebration, but as I am getting closer and closer to 40, they are taking on a new meaning. I'll be 37 soon and I can't decide whether to live it up or pout in solitude.

4) The big 20 year high-school reunion is coming up, in theory. My class doesn't seem to have it together to plan anything. Our ten year equated to a bowl of chips, a cash bar and less than a fourth of our class showed up. Needless to say it was a bit of a let-down. Now it looks as if the twenty year is going to be a kegger/potluck at a local park. I am being deprived of my God-given right to spend the next six months working out so I can squeeze into a hot little black dress and "wow" all of my classmates who took me for a homely, awkward teen and never invited me to their parties. THIS IS MY CHANCE to look sophisticated and beautiful while sipping martinis and showing off my crazy dance moves. Instead we we are going to a park? I'll bet the kids will even be invited. Boo.

5) We have fleas. That's right fleas. My pets have fleas. I have fleas. At least they are eating me alive. And I am too tired to do anything about it. Solving the flea problem is just too much work.

Yeah. I suck.

"vacation"

2011-08-10T13:25:00.000-07:00

This child is hungry.

The other one won't stop throwing his food.

The baby just cries.

This child wants to "super jump" into the pool.

The other one is cold.

This child lost his neon orange Hot Wheel car.

The other one won't wear his shoes.

This child spilled his apple juice.

The other one peed his pants.

The baby just cries.

This one says he hates me.

The other one must be carried everywhere he goes.

This one likes the playground.

The other one is bored.

The baby just cries.

This MAMA went a little crazy on "vacation,"

and now she needs a break!

That's how he rolls...

2011-07-31T08:23:00.000-07:00

There are a lot of food allergies among the preschool set these days, and we are not just talking about peanut butter anymore. Cashews. Strawberries. Fish. Gluten. I think Zack is feeling a little left out, being able to eat anything at all. He has asked me on several occasions what he is allergic to. At first I thought this was out of concern, but I am starting to think that he just wants to fit in.

Yesterday over lunch at a hamburger joint Zachary declared that he was going to follow his friend Joshua's gluten free diet, and he removed the bun from his burger (which by the way he doesn't like anyways.) "I'm not going to eat this yucky old bun! It has gluten" he said emphatically. "But Zack" I responded, "you don't have a gluten allergy." He looked at me as if to say hello, it's 2011, I must be allergic something! Zack informed us that he was going gluten free anyway.

Later that afternoon we arrived at a birthday party and Zachary immediately inquired with the hostess about gluten free snacks. My friend kindly steered him past the goldfish crackers and the pretzels to a fresh vegetable platter. Zack skipped the snacks and went to play. He didn't seem to notice that his pepperoni pizza was chock full of gluten, and I didn't have the heart to tell him.

Then came cake time. The cake looked damn good. Layers of white cake with thick chocolate frosting between. Zack was handed his piece. I leaned down and whispered in his ear. "You know, birthday cake has gluten in it." Zack paused for a moment, picked up his fork and said, "Well mom, a little gluten won't hurt."

So that's how he rolls...

Call me crazy.

2011-07-29T20:23:00.001-07:00

I got a bikini wax today. We are going on a short trip to Denver and we will be spending some time in a hotel with a pool, so I needed a wax.

A bikini wax is far from pleasant.

Yet I looked forward to it.

It was one of those days. A dark moment in parenting, one where any time away from the kids sounded appealing even if it involved hairs being ripped from my body with hot wax. Yes, it was that bad.

We had an early start to the morning. I needed to arrive to preschool at an unusual hour because Evan's teacher had requested a meeting with me, she wanted to discuss his recent behavior. Evan is my "easy" child.

I was crabby at 6:30 am. It had been a night of nursing and broken sleep, one which was plagued with the same anxiety dreams I have been having over and over again. Those dreams that leave my body stressed and my mind racing.

We left the house in a hurry. Julian was screaming bloody murder and Evan was matching his pitch, crying and whining about carrying his lunch box and putting on his shoes. I lost my temper and yelled at him as I forced him into his car seat. I left behind a mess of a house. Breakfast dishes in the sink, toys strewn across the living room floor and several baskets of laundry awaiting folding.

As I backed out of the driveway with two boys competing in a game of who can wail the loudest I had a terrible thought. This was a mistake. I am not cut out for this. I can't do this.

I believe most parents of young children must have these thoughts from time to time. They are dark moments, moments when we wish we were childless on a beach in Mexico, and then feel the sting of guilt at the very thought.

Nobody said it would be easy.

So today, the 15 minute bikini wax equated to "me time", time without a crying baby, time without a whining preschooler, time where my pain was just my own.

And yes, I enjoyed it.

Call me crazy.

Tit for Tat

2011-07-26T20:31:00.000-07:00

This morning my husband woke up in a tourist resort in Dallas, Texas. He spent the previous evening at a Twins Vs. Rangers game. He arrived home around noon today. He told me he was "tired." Oh poor him.

I wonder how he enjoyed his continental breakfast and the morning paper. I think about his queen sized bed and uninterrupted slumber and I find it very, very difficult to sympathize with any kind of fatigue that he may have going on.

I understand that people get tired of business travel, however, I do believe that two nights away from home must have felt like a gift from the Gods. Two nights sans crying, diaper changing, feeding and breaking up fights, must have been LOVELY. I can only fantasize.

I know it cannot be tit for tat, after all I am the only one with the tits, and thus, I am blessedly tied to my newborn for survival. It is a blessing. My husband argues that he will never experience the feeling of a baby moving internally. He will never know what it is like to sustain life through his body alone. It's a woman's privilege. It is. Yet, I do harbour some jealousy. I'll never be the bread winner. Nobody will ever wine or dine me, heck even my husband never did, when we met at 18 I paid my own way through our first dates.

The division of responsibility is clear, but darn it all, what I would do for one night in a Dallas hotel on an expense account....

Nana

2011-07-21T20:07:00.000-07:00

I had wanted to write this post earlier in the week, however as previously mentioned, blogging has become low priority.

My mom left last Sunday. She was here for 2.5 weeks to help with the kids. It was a wonderful visit, at least I thought so. Evan on the other hand was down right mean to her, and Zachary was just oblivious. I know it hurt her feelings. I can't blame her. My mother was lovely towards the boys. She brought tons of gifts and lavished them with attention, yet their response was less than optimal.

Evan: Go away Nana! I don't like you!

Zachary: (after Nana says "I love you") a half-hearted, eye rolled, under-the-breath-muttered "Thanks"

Ahh well. I mentioned I enjoyed the visit. While my mom was here we shopped, lunched, laughed and drank wine together. It was fantastic. To have someone who wanted to spend so much time with me doing just what I wanted, was a gift.

Of course mom was also wonderful with Julian. She held him while I showered, napped or cleaned. Julian responded well to her attention, and he was relatively peaceful.

Now she is gone, resuming her life in Wisconsin. I miss her terribly, and so does Julian. He is left to cry in his bouncy chair far more often these days.

I curse the miles between us. I wish my mom and I lived closer. I wish I could see her every week.

That isn't the current scenario, so for now I look forward to her next visit and cherish the memories of our last.

Yoga Mama

2011-07-19T19:38:00.000-07:00

I have wanted to blog, however lately it has been a choice, sleep or blog, eat or blog, spend time with children or blog. Clearly blogging has lost. At this moment I am typing with one hand and holding/nursing Julian with the other, so please do not expect anything brilliant.

As it turns out each of my babies have been progressively more challenging. Julian sleeps poorly at night and needs to be held most of the day. Come to my house between 5 and 10 pm and you will quickly understand why I an going through so much Zinfandel. Screaming baby. Fighting boys. Dinner. Laundry. Lunches to pack. There are so many "what was I thinking?" moments.

I have had many ideas for blog posts. Today I want to write about my first yoga class, although
I know, under the current circumstances I will not do it justice. The super quick run down-

I have never done yoga. I have no core strength or flexibility. I don't meditate, it's just not my thing, but I thought when in the Berkeley area, why not? Plus, after three c-sections my stomach bares a strong resemblance to jello.

I decided to try out a mom/baby yoga class today. I was prepared for a mild work out. I was not prepared for an hour long therapy/support group session, which is what I got. Ordinarily this would have been fine with me, except that I was anticipating and looking forward to physical exercise!

I was greeted by the teacher. She was pleasant, welcoming, warm, but not fit. She showed me how to get set up. The other mothers arrived, some looking rather worn and stressed out. There were about a half a dozen of us with babies ranging from 4-8 weeks. Most of the mother's were first timers. I was the only mama of three.

There was one "baby holder" who held Julian for about an hour. The first thing we did was a "check in" which ended up lasting about an hour. We went around the circle and introduced ourselves. I expected "Hi, I'm Rachel. This is Julian, he is seven weeks old. This is my first yoga experience."

Nope. Instead, most women spoke for ten minutes, several bursting into desperate tears. The instructor was kind and handed out words of support and encouragement. I on the other hand, bounced my knee in frustration. This is great, I thought, it really is, for a first time mom's support group. But I came for yoga, and quite honestly with three kids, I find myself in a much, much different place than these women.

I know it's wrong, but a part of me wants to yell-"Think it's hard now? Come over to my house, you will feel SO MUCH BETTER"

What I recognize however is that many of these women are coping with post-partum issues, depressed, anxious and overwhelmed. This is a great place for them, yet I feel out of place.

I will go back. I enjoyed the small intro to yoga that I received. Maybe I will be converted. Maybe I'll end up with abs of steel.

Maybe.

Red Sheets

2011-07-12T21:19:00.001-07:00

I awake in the morning and stumble into the hallway. I am greeted by a familiar site. Damp red sheets in a clumsy pile next to a pair of size five pajamas. Groggy, I haul the dirty bed linens to the kitchen only to find both washer and dryer full. Of course they are.

A few minutes later the dry clothing is in a basket, the wet clothes are spinning in the dryer and I am loading red sheets into the washer...again.

I watch red sheets spinning in soapy circles. They taunt me.

Nah-nah-nah-nah-boo-boo, they tease.

It's as if the sheets are sticking out a wet tongue and flapping their crimson hands around cotton ears .

The laundry will never be done, they sneer.

You'll have to send your son off to college with extra large, industrial strength Pull -Ups, they laugh.

The next good night sleep won't be for a minimum of six years, they promise.

These red sheets, purchased for their cheerful color now serve as a glowing neon sign reminding me that a mother's work is never done.

Rodeo Mama

2011-07-11T21:15:00.000-07:00

Stage Mother. Soccer Mom. Titles that conjure up all kinds of negative images. Yet here I am. Guilty. I'm a proud mama, bursting at the seams, basking in my little boy's accomplishments.

The most recent achievement? You're not going to believe it. Really, it is fairly far-fetched.

Zachary won first place in a mutton wrangling contest. You read that correctly. We rode a furry little lamb in a rodeo-style race and won the whole darn thing. I know. Odd.

How did this come to be? Believe me when I tell you it that it was not due to hard work and practice. Nope, just random luck, and my son's crazy athletic prowess. Let's just be honest he is amazing.

I didn't want him to participate. We were at the Alameda County Fair having a grand old time watching pig races and eating soft-serve when my husband got the idea that Zachary should sign up for the mutton race. I didn't know what was involved so I agreed, until we saw the first competitor in action.

I stood in the bleachers with Zack's brothers and watched as the first child climbed on an animal bare backed. He was wearing a caged mask and a padded vest. The doors swung open and the lamb ran out with a five year old clinging to it's back. Within seconds the child was flung to the dirt, left there crying as a clown came to his rescue. My mouth hung open. What the hell had I signed my son up for? I raced over to my husband who was standing in line with Zachary. "No way!" I yelled to him. David laughed. "They do this five times a day! It's perfectly safe." he promised.

I went back to my position in the stands and waited. Zack was the last to compete. When they called his name, tears welled up in my eyes. I was afraid. Afraid that he would be flung off the speeding beast and truly injured. I was sure I was making a mistake.

The doors swung open, and out he came. He clung to the animal in perfect form. He hung on until the mutton made it all the way to the end of the arena, when finally he fell to the ground. I was in shock. The crowed roared. The announcer gave Zack an enthusiastic high-five and proclaimed him the winner of the whole darn competition. He beat out older kids. He beat out experienced kids. I was overwhelmed with pride. I could not help myself. I ran to my child, expecting joy and excitement. I found instead a little boy choking back tears. He was frightened. He hurt his arm when he fell down and was surprised by the shear power of a live animal. The announcer asked him if he would like to return tomorrow to compete again and Zack responded with an emphatic "no!"

Did this disappoint me? Not in the least. Not only is my boy talented and athletic, he is damn smart. Who the hell wants to ride a dirty old sheep anyway?

Take the gift

2011-07-06T20:29:00.000-07:00

Sometimes people are really awesome. A few posts ago I wrote about how nobody at the preschool signed up for our post-baby meal train. As it turns out folks were just slow to get on board, and we have in fact had some very, very lovely meals prepared for us. We have had Thai pasta salad, lasagna, brownies, soup, pesto, pizza and even wine delivered to my son's cubby at school. The food, prepared with such kindness has been touching. I have had one friend, who at eight months pregnant has brought food to us twice with a smile on her face, and another who has signed up for three meals.

It's overwhelming and honestly hard to accept at times. I told one of my friends that she was doing too much, yet she shrugged her shoulders and told me flat out to "take the gift."

Take the gift. It can be difficult sometimes. We are trained to do it all on our own and never to ask for help. But giving and receiving feels good. In all honesty at this moment I need all of the help that I can get, and the show of generosity and warmth has been just what the doctor ordered. I am so thankful for the kindness we have received. It is also true that it is good to allow others to give, it feels good for them too.

Win win right? All I know is that I am so full of pesto pasta and Zinfandel that I have to say goodnight.

Cookie Monster

2011-07-02T17:26:00.001-07:00

By the looks of me, I'm fairly harmless. Just under five-feet-four, a petite frame, a warm smile... but apparently I'm something much different in the depths of my three year old's subconscious. Something much more ferocious and cruel. Something more like a cookie hoarding monster...

A few nights ago Evan woke up in the middle of the night screaming in terror... a night terror. Our first. Evan was having a terrible nightmare and there was nothing that we could do about it.

I ran to his bed side at 1am. He was screaming. SCREAMING. "I want that cookie in your mouth mommy!" "I want that cookie in your mouth!" "Give me the cookie in your mouth mommy!" Just what was this about? Was Evan really dreaming that I was stealing cookies from him? Taking tasty morsels from my own child's mouth? He was hysterical. I felt so helpless that I started to sob my own middle-of-the-night tears.

In my son's subconscious I am a cookie stealing bitch.

I don't even like cookies all that much.

Performance Improvement Plan: Julian

2011-06-28T19:32:00.000-07:00

Happy four week anniversary at Kargas Inc Julian! We do hope that the staff has made you feel at home here and that you are enjoying your time with the organization.

Of course we are still getting to know you, but we do have some initial feedback about your performance.

There are some concerns.

As you may or may not know we have given a great deal of thought to the core Kargas Inc competencies required for success. They are as follows, Interpersonal Communication Skills, Creativity and Problem Solving Capabilities. We have evaluated you in each of these key areas.

Interpersonal Communication Skills:

Several staff members have expressed concern about their ability to communicate with you. In fact we have had multiple complaints from individuals who have stated they frequently have no idea what you are trying to tell them. They have described your communication style as abrasive and incoherent. Julian, this is a serious problem. How can we help you if you cannot tell us what you need? How can you contribute if your language is unintelligible?

Creativity

You appear to be caught in a rut and we do not see you embracing a variety of tasks. We are concerned that you are only comfortable performing a narrow range activities and you don't seem to have any outside interests. We recommend that you try new things, get a hobby. Make a friend.

Problem Solving Capabilities:

Here at Kargas Inc. we require employees to come to us with solutions when they voice their concerns. We are certainly open to your feedback, but you need to take a proactive approach to problem solving. When you voice a concern we would like you to come to us with some constructive suggestions. At this point all we are hearing is a lot of negativity and complaining.

Julian, you are now on a Performance Improvement Plan. You have 18 years to address the above concerns. It's a good thing you're cute.

Lazy Song

2011-06-27T15:44:00.000-07:00

I do not like Bruno Mars. How do I even know this guy's name? Because I listen to bad radio in the mornings when I drive the boys to preschool. I can't help myself. I like the morning show banter. Bruno Mars has a "hit" that the pop stations are playing. I have heard it one too many times- in the mini van, on the way to Berkeley with two boys bickering in the backseat and Ju-Ju Bean wailing at the top of his lungs. It's called "The Lazy Song", and I swear he wrote it just to taunt parents of young children and hard working people everywhere.

A sample of the lyrics:

Today I don't feel like doing anything

I just want to lay in my bed.

Don't feel like picking up my phone, so leave a message at the tone

Because today I swear I'm not doing anything.

Brilliant Mr. Mars, me too! I'm not going to do a darn thing today.... except wait, I might as well wish for a pet unicorn or a money tree in my backyard, because that is how realistic such a scenario is for me. In fact, I can't possibly imagine a day in the next ten years where doing nothing would be a remote option. So thank you Bruno for rubbing it in my face, over and over again. I'll just have to sit here trying to drink one freaking cup of coffee while begging my four week old to hush, and negotiating with my boys for ten minutes of peace and quite.

Must be nice to be you Bruno. Have a nice stinkin' day.

Better luck next time

2011-06-20T14:16:00.000-07:00

Newborns are temperamental. One day they sleep like an angel morning to night, the next day they wail continually, satisfied only when held in your arms. Life with a three week old is always up in the air, doing anything is a gamble because you never know which baby will "show up" at any particular moment.

Today, I decided to go take the plunge and do the weekly grocery shopping with Julian. Hello, disaster. It did not go well. I picked a Monday morning thinking it would be a quiet day at Safeway. I was wrong. The store was crowded and the lines were long.

I walked into the store with a sleeping baby in a car seat. Perfect. Except exactly one minute and thirty seconds into our trip, Julian woke up. And he was mad. But I was determined to get the job done. At first he was merely whimpering, but soon enough he escalated into full blown crying. I whisked through the store, throwing the items from my mental list into the cart. Each time I turned down a new isle there was someone who wanted to stop and chat. "Oh a new one! How old?" "Can I see your baby?" Almost everyone was good natured and sympathetic to my plight. But of course there was the one exception, there usually is. Today it was an uptight old biddy, who likely believes that children were meant to be seen not heard. She stared at me from across the cereal isle, her mouth pressed into a disapproving smirk. As she passed me she glanced inside my car seat and clicked her tongue. "Poor thing, he should be wearing socks you know" she muttered and continued on her way.

Socks? You mean the socks that have been abandoned in the backseat of the car because the child keeps on kicking them off his skinny little feet? Lady unless I duck tape them on, the socks aren't going to stick. Besides, it is about 80 degrees outside, and even the grocery store feels warm. I wanted to run after her with some sort of snide come back. If we are offering free unsolicited advice I would be happy to share my thoughts about the contents of her grocery cart (Doritos and Hungry Man frozen dinners). But I hold my tongue and press on.

I raced through the rest of the store, deciding to give up by the time I reached produce. I headed to checkout and eyed the long lines. There was no good option. So I picked a random line and waited. For whatever reason there was no one available for bagging, although there seemed to be about 12 Safeway employees standing around doing nothing. I bagged my own and just about ran out of the store.

I arrived home to find that I made quite a few grocery mistakes in my rush.

I purchased honey mustard pretzels instead of plain, yuck

I bought enough chicken for a family twice my size. Oops.

I forgot the eggs.

I forgot the cottage cheese.

I selected juice boxes for the boys lunch, instead of the low fat milk drink boxes because I could not reach the milk.

One bunch of over-ripe bananas and one bag of baby carrots will have to suffice for fruits and vegetables this week.

Better luck next time?

Where have I been?

2011-06-18T21:06:00.000-07:00

Where have I been?

Let's see. I've either had a baby attached to my breast, strapped to my torso, or bouncing in my arms. If per chance, Julian is sleeping in his bassinet or in daddy's arms, then I'm vacuuming, breaking up World War III over who has the most goldfish crackers, folding laundry or wiping someones rear end. It's a glamours life, no lie.

Blogging has been next to impossible. Not that I haven't had some brilliant ideas for my next post....

Other uses for the 12 foot long baby wrap I purchased, but am not smart enough to utilize.

McDonald's-why they suck, but why it's our own damn fault.

The night nurse from hell.

Our family-the least popular family of my son's preschool. The first family to have nobody sign up to assist with new baby meal deliveries. Bitter much?

Pump It Up! The birthday factory.

Father's Day. Huh?

Ahh, but the baby is crying, all of these ideas will have to wait for a better time...whenever that may be.

You do the math

2011-06-14T18:55:00.000-07:00

1 6.5lb nocturnal newborn

PLUS

1 high energy, early rising, often moody, 5.5 year old

PLUS

1 sweet, yet mischievous 3 year old

MINUS

Reasonable amount of sleep

PLUS

1 stinky, shedding dog

PLUS

USELESS, litter box mess creating cat, (multiplied by 2)

PLUS

10 loads of laundry per week

MINUS

1 fully stocked refrigerator

PLUS

3 *free* weeks of unsolicited parenting advice

PLUS

600 Lego and puzzle pieces covering 1 living room floor

PLUS

1 neglected blog, dwindling in popularity

PLUS

Countless photo ops

PLUS

10 perfect baby toes

PLUS

Endless sloppy toddler kisses

MINUS

Ever being lonely

EQUALS

One half-crazed, often crabby, 90% spit-up covered, mommy with a very full heart.

Happy Birthday Evan!

2011-06-12T19:53:00.000-07:00

Today was a big day. I turned three. Yeah, I know, I'm getting up there. A lot has happened in the past year. At two, I was still sleeping in a crib, wearing diapers and I didn't know how to buckle my own car seat. All that has changed.

Now, not only can I do a 48 piece puzzle by myself, I also wear Buzz Lightyear underwear. I can safely say that I have discovered myself, and I am my own boy. I'm no push-over. If my brother tries to give me the smaller half of the cookie I know how to throw a punch. If mommy tries to turn off the TV in the middle of my show, I can throw quite the tantrum. I frequently get my way. If not by the shear volume of my voice, by batting my baby blues. I am pretty darn adorable when I want to be.

Thus on June 12, the anniversary of the greatest day in history we kicked off a week long celebration of my birth. Today we had gifts, a trip to the zoo, lunch at McDonald's and daddy made me a chocolate cake. Later in the week I will have my school celebration, and finally next weekend an exclusive party at Pump It Up with all VIP guests.

It's not too late to send your gifts. I'll accept them year round.

Hold Still

2011-06-09T20:31:00.001-07:00

I awake in the middle of the night. Thirsty. I reach over for the call button, but all I see is my alarm clock, a stack of dirty burp clothes and an empty water bottle. Damn it. I forgot. I'm home. There is no night nurse to fill me up with narcotics and an icy cold beverage. If I want a drink I have to either a) awaken the sleeping baby laying peacefully on my chest or b) awaken the snoring, crabby husband lying next to me. Guess I'll go without.

Julian is nine days old today. Nine whole days have past since he took his first breath. He has gained 3 ounces since his birth. He will only get bigger. Why must it go so fast? I wish that I could have simply pressed the "pause button" and stayed in that beautiful time right after delivery a bit longer. Let's be honest, my stay at the hospital is as close to a vacation as I am going to get for a long, long time. Heck for a woman like me with a house full of chaos, my room at Alta Bates was basically a spa. A reclining bed, with a remote control attached. 24/7 nurses who, like angels attended to my every need. Everyone who saw me greeted me with a cheerful "congratulations!" and looked at my baby with admiring eyes. I had nothing more to do than stare lovingly at my newborn and nurse him 20 time a day.

Now I feel it slipping away... before I know it he will be walking, talking, testing limits, hitting, throwing tantrums, telling me he hates me, reading, sneaking R-rated movies, driving, drinking, graduating, moving far away, ignoring my calls, getting married to a woman who hates me, having babies and putting me in a home.

Damn it kid. Hold still. Stay little. Don't grow up too fast.

It was only a couple of weeks ago that I was wishing time away. Every hour seemed to last an eternity as I awaited the arrival of my Ju-Ju Bean. Well now that he is here time seems to be moving too fast. Hold still. I just want to enjoy this time a little longer. Hold still.

Ju-Ju Bean

2011-06-06T12:42:00.000-07:00

Seven things I learned six days postpartum

1) Your third baby is no less miraculous than your first. Giving birth is an incredibly humbling experience. Holding a perfect new being for the first time is an experience like none other.

2) Berkeley has worn off on me. I didn't hesitate to remove my crying newborn from his car seat and stroll the isles of Target nursing my hungry son as I walked. I had shopping to do.

3) The body's ability to heal itself is amazing. Six days post surgery and only two days after having my staples removed I have little need for pain killers, and I am able to get around just fine.

4) Hard as I try I still can't reconcile the fact that although I feel pretty good, I still look five or six months pregnant. I try to remind myself that this is normal, yet it still bums me out. I want to look as good as I feel. I don't want anyone to ask me about my due date. I want to fit into my clothing again. I am thinking back to all of the "Body After Baby!" articles I have read in People magazine and I'm getting more and more pissed off.

5) Your own infant is always the most beautiful thing you have ever set eyes upon. Sure, he has acne, blotchy skin, and looks like a room full of other babies, yet you could stare at him endlessly.

6) Baby number three adds a whole new level of complexity to family logistics. Sure, adding that first baby to your family is a shock to the system, but you are still relatively mobile. I remember taking Zachary to a New Years Eve party when he was several months old. He slept in the car seat while we stayed up and celebrated with our friends until 1am. These days the idea of packing up the troops and going to the playground seems overwhelming....

7) Even when given a beautiful dignified name, it is nearly impossible not to come up with a cutesy nickname for a cuddly newborn. I call this little guy Ju-Ju Bean. I just can't seem to help myself!

Welcome Julian Michael

2011-06-04T21:54:00.000-07:00

Out with the acid reflux.... in with Julian Michael Kargas!

Julian was born on May 31st at 4:06am. My wish was granted, I got a May baby, who arrived on a date of his own choosing. He is healthy and in my unbiased opinion totally beautiful.

I spent a glorious four nights in the hospital, my sweet 6lb, 6oz baby snuggled against me most of the time. Bliss.

Everything went smoothly. I had contractions starting around 9pm on the 30th, and waited it out until 1am before I was convinced that I was truly in labor. By the time we arrived at the hospital there was no doubt in my mind, pain doesn't lie. I went in for my c-section just before 4am, it was a long night, but an incredibly happy one.

I wanted to write more but Mr. Mcfussy pants is crying for mama.

Dear Baby J

2011-05-29T21:36:00.000-07:00

Dear Baby J,

We are all anxiously awaiting your arrival. I was hoping that I would have made your acquaintance by now but it appears that you have your own schedule. But honestly Baby J, it is time. It's true, we have bonded over the past nine months. You providing sweet little kicks and shoving my stomach up into my chest cavity, me providing you with a cozy little home. I hope you have found your accommodations welcoming and comfortable, but sadly, it's closing time! We are shutting this thing down by Friday. Lights out. Time to head out.

Life isn't so bad out here. You have a lot of love waiting for you. Two older brothers who will reluctantly take you under their wings. A daddy who might as well be a live in party clown, the way he loves to play with his sons. A mama who can't wait to hold and cuddle you, singing you to slumber every night. You'll see. Come out and and you'll see.

I'm waiting for you my sweet baby boy.

Love,

Mommy

Date night gone wrong

2011-05-29T07:30:00.000-07:00

Just what exactly lead me to sobbing, nearly uncontrollably at Pete's at 7:30 last night? You won't believe this, or then again maybe it makes perfect sense.

The cause of the breakdown....Bridesmaids, the movie. A date night gone wrong.

I cannot for the life of me see this movie. Everyone, and I mean everyone continues to rave about this funny flick, and although I have had several opportunities to see what all the fuss is about, I can't seem to make it happen.

Bridesmaids take 1:

Last Saturday

I had a phenomenal afternoon planned. I was to go for manis/pedis with a girlfriend followed by a couples night at the movies. We had a babysitter arranged. Then I thought I was in labor. I experienced cramping and felt sick. I cancelled my plans and stayed home. It turns out that the pain is just a result of the baby's position, and it is has continued on for the past seven days.

Bridesmaids take 2

Thursday

I finished work on Thursday at 12:30. I was taking a 1/2 day of vacation and starting my maternity leave then. What better way to kick it off than an afternoon at the movies? Feeling very tired, I decided to lie down for 20 minutes before heading to the theater. An hour and a half later I awoke groggy and disoriented. I had missed the film.

Bridesmaids take 3

Last night:

My in laws are now in town, having arrived in Oakland a week before my c-section, in case of an early delivery that now does not seem to be likely. The husband and I rushed out for a quick dinner and then finally to see Bridesmaids. We hurried through our meal and headed to the theater only to find a line several blocks long. Within minutes we were informed that Bridesmaids was sold out. The other movie options included Kung Phu Panda II or The Hangover Part II. I had no interest in either. That is when the tears came. My husband asked what we should do next? Head to a bar? No. I can't drink. Lame. Go for coffee? Fine. Just Fine. We walked to Pete's and I started crying harder and harder. Our evening was ruined. I would never see the funniest movie in the world. I had to head back and share my living room with the in laws watching Golf on ESPN or PBS again. Another long boring night.

I ordered a grande white chocolate mocha from the barrista who quickly corrected me. "I'm sorry but what do you mean by a grande?" she snarled sarcastically. That's right I'm at Pete's, not Starbucks. Pete's has medium. Dumb me. I leaned into my husband my shoulders shaking as I sobbed. They both must have thought I was crazy.

Clearly as tragic is as it is that I have missed my opportunity to see the movie on the big screen, it was not worthy of all those tears. Not by a long shot, but I suppose I have hit my limit.

Hormones raging.

Tired of waiting.

Sleep deprived.

Terribly uncomfortable.

Scared.

Exhausted.

Anxious.

Annoyed.

As noted, I am now sharing my home with my in laws who will be here until June 14. We are thankful for the help. It is so kind of them to come. But I don't feel like having roommates. Roommates with questions about where to find this or that. Roommates who want to know what we will do for dinner. Roommates who talk to me while I'm trying to blog. Roommates who monopolize the television when all I want to do is watch The Real Housewives.

Although I know all of this is temporary, and leading up to a joyful occasion, I feel as though I am in the perfect storm. Ready to explode. Wanting to find a hideout, an escape yet too tired to move.

My kid's a freaking genius

2011-05-26T09:35:00.000-07:00

My kid is a freaking genius. At least that is the conclusion I have come to after attending Zachary's kindergarten "orientation" last night. I am putting orientation in quotation marks because the whole thing seemed like a joke. I left this evening meeting truly concerned about the quality of the school and wondering if next year will be an academic waste of time for my kid.

The entire 1.5 hour meeting can be summarized as such

Before entering kindergarten your child should have the following skills:

Know their name.

Count to ten.

Identify basic shapes (circle, square, triangle)

Know their parent's first names.

Have the ability to dress themselves

Use a glue stick

Listen to a story

Recognize colors

Identify body parts.

Is it just me or does this sound like a list of requirements for the exceptionally slow preschooler? I jokingly asked Zack if he could count to 10, he responded with "Mom, I can count to over 100!" He must be a genius. What other explanation is there?

School starts at the end of August. Teacher assignments will not be announced until the first day of school. There is no orientation for the kids. You are to drop your child off that morning and quickly say goodbye on the playground. Do not come in to the classroom, that makes kids cry.

We are talking about kindergarten right? 5 and six year olds *might* benefit from a little hand holding on their first day, or at the very least have an opportunity to meet their teacher or see their classroom before being abandoned with a room full of strangers. Have I gone soft?

The school has no money. Parents need to donate money. A lot of money. They accept checks. We should write one. Now. Tshirts are also for sale.

I bought the T-Shirt. This is the sad state of our public schools. Depressing.

The classroom may be as large as 30 children. In order to customize learning to each child's needs there is a 30 minute block of time every day where the kids can select an activity appropriate to their learning level.

Wow, a whole 30 minutes! I am sure my son will select his activity carefully. He will probably choose to read a chapter book in the corner quietly. Or wait Tommy is demonstrating how to shove a pencil up his nose. Maybe he will try that instead. It's okay, there is nobody around to stop them.

So that was about it. My kid's school is suppose to be one of the better Oakland public schools. I am starting to understand why so many people go broke paying for private school.

Looking for a mircacle

2011-05-23T20:36:00.000-07:00

My hands shook when I went to change his diapers. His mother used the cloth variety along with safety pins. I was probably eleven years old, and he only a few months. I was petrified of sticking his chubby wiggling legs, of causing him to bleed and cry. So the diaper was always loose and droopy and I hoped his mother wouldn't notice.

That baby is now a grown man. The son of one of my mother's dearest friends. He was just in a terrible swimming accident that more than likely left him paralyzed. Unable to move those precious legs or arms again. I haven't seen him for many, many years, and the last time I saw his mother was probably a good 12 years ago, but she is a close family friend and I have kept up with her on Facebook. This woman is a good woman. We are talking really good. She is a school teacher and speaks of her students with such love and pride. She is a spiritual woman, who goes to church and has great faith. She is a true friend, one who was incredibly generous and giving to my family when we went through are own difficulties. I learned of the accident via her Facebook page. She does not deserve this. She deserves to be posting updates of grandchildren and happy times. This is not fair.

We all know that bad things can and do happen to good people. We only have so much control. Perhaps that is why I can't get this off my mind. I sit here preparing for my son's birth, taking my prenatal vitamins, eating my veggies and worrying about all that could possibly go wrong. I take my child's hand as we cross the parking lot and watch his every move on the playground. But I cannot protect my babies forever or from everything. Toddlers get cancer, teenagers get kidnapped, grown children have terrible accidents, and there is nothing we can do about it.

My mother's friend has asked for prayers, because at this point what else can be done? She believes in the power of prayer. I myself am not the praying type, however I said one. I closed my eyes and asked whatever higher power there may be to save this child, to save this mother, to grant a miracle. It's a selfish prayer, because as much as I am saying it for them, I am saying it for myself and for my own family.

I want to believe in happy endings. I want to know that life can be fair. I want to see this family happy once again to know that it is possible....

Ladies Man

2011-05-22T18:31:00.000-07:00

Evan will be three in a few weeks. He's growing up. Becoming a little man. A little ladies man. This feisty 30 pounder sure knows how to woo the preschool girls. He is a smooth talker who has come up with some winning lines that the other boys will be using for years to come.

Evan has taken a special interest in a girl named "Charlie" who attends school with him. Charlie is a pudgy cutie pie who frequently wears leggings and bright pink tops. A real looker. When I picked him up on Friday he announced loudly (with Charlie clearly in ear shot) "I'm going to marry Charlie, and then I'm going to kiss her on the lips!" Charlie ignored him, but my guess is that she was simply playing hard to get.

Perhaps because of Charlie's cold shoulder, Evan has stepped it up a notch. Just today at the zoo, he approached an older girl, probably all of four years. As way of introduction, and just to break the ice Evan walked up to her, took a superman stance, pointed directly at her and yelled "You have a gyna!" Uh. huh. May I note that this was right in front of the child's parents. The girl's interest was peaked, and she challenged him to a running race. Mom and dad looked at their feet. Yikes.

Evan was encouraged. He used the very same line at an Andy Z concert this afternoon with a special twist. This time he approached a young lady on the dance floor, pointed and yelled "You have a gyna! I have a penis!" This little girl simply stared back blankly at him. She probably was just a little slow.

I any case, it appears my son is quite the charmer. It's time to lock up your daughters Oakland.

Promotion

2011-05-19T16:31:00.000-07:00

Dear Mommy (CEO),

We are both writing to formally request a promotion. Any day now we will be welcoming a new junior staff member, and with his arrival will come increased responsibility. We know that we will be asked to provide mentorship and training to our new employee. In addition we are certain that we will be expected to act more autonomously. We welcome this challenge. However we feel that we should be rewarded with a promotion and increased decision making authority.

We would like to take more ownership in the budgeting process. We have some ingenious ideas. Kargas Inc. spends top dollar on vegetables and fruits. Have you noticed how inexpensive Cheetos and Ding-Dongs are? Switching our spending habits to include more cost effective products such of these could save us significantly.

Additionally we would like to have more input into the organization's policies. We have a good foundation of guiding principles, however we believe there is some room for adjustment. For example the "no name calling" policy seems outdated. These days it is common place to call one's peer a "butt head" or an "idiot face." We don't find this to be offensive, and believe that Kargas Inc might be out of touch with today's generation.

Finally as we continue to take on higher levels of responsibility we think it is necessary to hire more support staff. We need assistance with entry level work such as cleaning up toys or picking up our dirty clothes. Although we are more than happy to extend our work day to 9 or 10pm, we still need someone else to take over these menial tasks.

We hope that you will take our requests under serious consideration. Your failure to do so might result in a company wide strike.

Yours truly,

Zachary P. Kargas

Evan A. Kargas

Shame on me

2011-05-16T21:19:00.000-07:00

It was a regular, everyday moment that shook a little perspective into me. I haven't exactly been shy with my pregnancy whining. Well shame on me.

Today was my final day in the city until I return from maternity leave. Of course I had to make the standard trip to Noah's Bagels to get my fix. Sesame bagel with cream cheese and a large decaf coffee. Yum. I prepared my coffee as I waited for my order to be called. I heard my name and walked to the counter to retrieve my breakfast. I was handed my bagel by a friendly woman with an apron tied tightly across her swollen belly. She looked to be about eight or nine months along, just like me.

I felt suddenly sheepish as I tucked my bagel into my ergonomically designed backpack and left the restaurant. I had been feeling sorry for myself, having forgotten my umbrella and needing to walk a half mile to the office in a cold drizzle. I started to think about how my server's day must have started out. The morning shift. She probably had to start work at 6am, meaning getting her tired aching body out of bed at an ungodly hour. Likely she had some sort of bus/train/walk commute, only to arrive at Noah's where she would spend an eight hour shift on her feet, preparing other people's food.

So what do I have to complain about?

Exactly. Shame on me.

Things I don't care about today

2011-05-15T19:05:00.000-07:00

Things that I don't care about

Pippa. So she is Kate Middleton's sister. She's pretty. She looked hot in her white dress at the royal wedding. This is why she is gracing the covers of all of celebrity magazines? I don't get it. I don't want to.

My three year is generally dressed in some form of pajamas or completely nude. Forget about the closet full of hand knit sweaters and Gymboree, he ain't going for it, and I don't have the energy to fight about it. Moving on.

My house will never look like a home out of Good Housekeeping. Okay, I sort of care about this, but I am trying really hard not too. Our home is in a perpetual state of disaster, and adding a new baby is not going to improve the situation. Time to let it go.

I'll never be a famous blogger, an SVP, an athlete or an award-winning anything. So be it.

Diet soda is bad for me. Maybe it will contribute to my demise, but it's still healthier than crack.

I can't cook particularly well. I'd rather know how to pick out a good bottle of wine than how to prepare a roast. That's just me.

I don't own matching under-garments. Nice idea, but so unpractical.

That I don't really know what gluten is.

My family drinks 2% milk. Fat shmat, skim is for the birds.

I'm sitting here looking totally ghetto, with my pants falling down, my shirt riding up and my belly hanging out. Hot!!

The final countdown

2011-05-14T21:14:00.000-07:00

Twenty more days. Not that I'm counting or anything. Of course baby's birthday could come earlier, and at this point, I would not argue with the little man. It is no secret that I am actually terrified about our newest addition. Sure I had moments of fear and doubt with my first two pregnancies, but life is harder now. I have two young boys who are anything but easy-going. I live far from family and my closest friends. Adding a newborn to what I would already describe as chaos is a bit overwhelming.

Still, I'm telling you I am done with this pregnancy bit. It would be an understatement if I told you that I was slowing down in these final weeks. I'm moving at a snails pace, I'm overwhelmed with exhaustion much of the time. This is different than with my previous pregnancies. I am just without energy. I feel as if I could sleep forever, and yet I don't sleep. I don't sleep because of the acid that is relentlessly burning a hole in my esophagus. While I would desperately like to dig into a pint of Ben & Jerry's right now, that joy has been snatched away, enjoying a late night treat has dire consequences. A whole night lying awake swallowing back acid.

I will spare you the entire laundry list of pregnancy related complaints and sum it up. I'm tired. Too tired to blog. Done. Ready to enter the next phase of my life, no matter how crazy it may be.

Dance Dance Dance

2011-05-10T21:21:00.000-07:00

It's dance season for the young folks. I was reminded of this on two separate occasions over the past few days. First, while on our mini "vacation" to Monterey this past weekend, we stayed at an Embassy Suites. I was outraged to discover that our room was directly next door to a group of fraternity kids and their dates in town for spring formal. As we walked past their room I caught sight of the make-shift bar sitting on a dresser drawer. I immediately wondered if we could change rooms. After the anger over our misfortune subsided I became....jealous. My thoughts turned from "those drunk kids are going to keep us up all night" to "when did I get so old?"

My college boyfriend, who later had the privilege of becoming my husband was in a fraternity. There were few benefits for me, in fact usually I was banned from their parties with the sister sororities. I did however get to attend spring formal every year. I loved formal. It meant dressing up, getting my hair done, binge drinking and staying over night at a hotel. How can you beat that? It was prom on steroids.

Speaking of prom, it is also that time of year. I know this because I happened to watch part of an episode of Glee. I am probably going to upset a few readers by saying this, but I just don't understand that show. It is so far from realistic it's laughable. The premise, a diverse group of high school kids come together and bond over a common love of music. Think of an updated version of The Breakfast Club where the jock, the preppy and the geek all burst randomly into song. Add an overweight African American, a gay kid and a boy in a wheelchair, and ta-dah- you have Glee! Anyhow, the Glee gang went to prom, and they were smokin' hot. It made me think of my own ridiculous formal gowns. The big bows, poofs and matching shoes. How I would like to go to prom today where the girls wear sophisticated dresses and sleek hairstyles.

This whole thing has me thinking. Why are formal dances wasted on youth? Why isn't there a prom for grown ups? Yes we can attend weddings, but then we actually have to hope someone will get married. Most of our friends are already hitched. If I had a lot of money and wasn't 8.5 months pregnant, I would rent out a hotel ball room, hire a DJ and host prom for all of my friends. In the meantime, I am just reminiscing and looking at photos from our fraternity formals. I hope you enjoy. No laughing allowed.

Boys, a little guilt trip.....

2011-05-08T17:57:00.000-07:00

To my sons Zachary and Evan,

I am writing this on Mother's Day, May 8 2011 with the intent of sending this to you on an annual basis just before this very holiday each year. The purpose? To remind you why you owe me. To play the guilt card and gently suggest that you do something nice for the woman who gave you life.

This weekend was suppose to be a fun filled, family mini vacation in Monterey. I had high hopes for our little get away. I planned activities I thought we all would enjoy. A visit to the Monterey Bay Aquarium. An evening in a hotel with a pool. Ice cream in a tourist city. It should have been grand.

But you boys were ROTTEN. Down right bad. Clearly you failed to read the instructions I laid out clearly for you in my last post. I provided you with five easy steps to ensure we all had a happy Mother's Day. You failed to follow most of them . Although I got a spa gift card from your father, and some handmade gems from you, you misjudged the importance of my other requests. What about the card with the long list of why I am an amazing mother? I had a girlfriend post a quotation from her own five year old's card. Her child said something like "Mommy I love you so much because you are so nice, and take me on play dates and make me good food and give the best hugs." I got a note with one word. Pirate.

I also kindly asked you to refrain from fighting, whining and crying, yet that's exactly how you both spent most of the weekend.The aquarium was a total bust. We should have known better than to visit on a Saturday. The entire attraction was packed with families, making it difficult to see the exhibits and keep track of two spastic boys running in different directions, yelling something about hating their brother. Meals at even the most family friendly restaurants were pure torture. Whining about entree selection, throwing waded up napkins at fellow diners, and screaming "I hate you mommy" before the meals even arrived. Not fun.

Boys, you also got the timing wrong. I requested that our day of family fun begin no earlier than 9am, yet you selected 6am. 6am! Isn't mommy suppose to get some extra sleep on her special day? Didn't I read something about breakfast in bed somewhere? We were in a hotel, but it seems like perhaps you could have mustered up extra effort to pamper mommy on this very important day. Nope. Up and at them. You boys were hungry so we opted for the bland hotel continental breakfast with bad coffee.

And now, rather than attempt another disastrous family meal, I am hiding in my office while the two of you eat a dinner of frozen pizza while your dad pulls his hair out. I am sitting up here feeling fairly angry that we wasted the money on this terrible weekend, and wondering what I have done wrong. Why wasn't this weekend wonderful? Why didn't you love hanging out by the ocean? Why didn't I get hugs and kisses? Why do you keep telling me that you hate me?

Next year no expectations.

Happy Mother's Day indeed.

So my dearest boys, by the time you read this you will be older. Old enough to know how to honor your mother in a special way. Diamonds will do.

Love,
Your Mother

Tips for a happy Mother's Day

2011-05-05T21:57:00.000-07:00

It's coming....the most wonderful day of the year! Seriously, Mother's Day is just about as good as a birthday, only no thought of candles or wrinkles!

I'm ready for my big day. Children, Spouse, you may start lavishing love, appreciation and gifts upon me.

Sweet family just in case you are not fully prepared for the this spectacular extravaganza of mommy, I have a few handy tips for you.

Yes, mommy loves those macaroni noodle necklaces, and Mother's Day would not be the same with without your handmade treasures. But here is the thing, mommy likes all kinds of presents. Jewelery. Massages. Flowers. An uninterrupted three hour nap. Any of those things would make mama very happy.

Do us all a favor, please skip the big meal cooked up in our kitchen. That breakfast or dinner that you prepare especially for mom. The one where every pot, pan and utensil gets pulled out, used and left in the sink awaiting cleanup by *someone*. There is no shame in take out.

Don't forget to write a heartfelt card explaining just why I am the very best mommy and wife in the whole wide freaking world. It can be a very long note. It can include a gift card. For a massage. See tip #1.

On the occasion of Mother's Day there is a no crying/whining/temper tantrum rule that must be strictly adhered to. Should this rule be broken, mommy will simply leave the room until the situation is resolved by *someone* else. Mama is off referee duty for the day.

We will spend quality family time together, but only between the hours of 9am and 8pm, and with the exception of mommy's three hour nap. (Again see tip #1)

All you have to do to ensure a successful Mother's Day is follow those five easy steps. Remember Father's Day, and birthday season is just around the corner. Best to keep mama happy.

I am the Baby King

2011-05-02T14:58:00.000-07:00

I'm on to you little baby. You act all innocent in there, quiet and tucked away, but I've got your number. I'm not stupid you know. I am very much aware of what your big entrance will bring. You're going to want all of the attention. You will use your tiny cry and your cute outfits to solicit every one's affection. You know what you're doing.

But I have a plan little bro. I have been planting the seeds for at least the past month. You see, I can still be a cute little baby myself, I know how to play the part.

For starters, I'm not giving up the diapers. Diaper changing time is quality mommy/daddy time, and I'm going to get my fair share. And you know what? I still need to be carried too. My legs are too small to walk very far, and my feet start to hurt. OWIE, I need uppy!

I can use my baby voice. A sing-songy whine tends to turn heads. If the that doesn't work, I have a sneaking suspicion that I can yell a heck of a lot louder than you can, small fry.

So you might as well enjoy your time inside while you can little dude, in fact you can go ahead and make that your permanent home for all I care. If you think you are going to overthrow me from my spot on the Baby King throne, you better think again. I am the cute little one of this family, and ain't nobody going to forget it!

Denial

2011-04-30T22:44:00.000-07:00

We got a mini van.

No, it does not mean I am a soccer mom.

Because I'm not. I am not a soccer mom.

Our mini van is a "previously owned" fully equipped 2009 blue Honda Odyssey. It has the leather seats, DVD players and a navigation system.

But I am not a soccer mom.

It has plenty of room for three car seats, a stroller, an overstuffed diaper bag, lunch boxes, tricycle and scooter. Soon it will probably be adorned with crushed cheerios and stale raisins.

But I am not a soccer mom.

It's big. It's wide. It's hard to park. It has the room we need.

But I'm not a soccer mom.

My kid's don't even like soccer. They prefer T-Ball.

Duh.

Email to a friend

2011-04-27T21:39:00.000-07:00

Dear Friend,

I totally agree, we absolutely need to get the families together ASAP. I know that most of the month of May is out for you because you are traveling and then hosting out of town guests. I suppose I'm having a baby the beginning of June, and that will likely knock me out of commission for the month. Then of course I have my family visiting in July for several weeks to meet our newest addition. August could work, but you did say that you had weddings every other weekend this summer.

Fall? I know that seems awfully far away, but maybe fall would be better? I have to be honest, I doubt I will feel up to hosting anyone those first few months I am back at work. Balancing the the baby, the kids, the job and little sleep-I know that the housework is going to fall to the sidelines, and I will be in no shape for dinner guests. Of course then we get into the holidays and we both know how that goes....

So I am thinking how about a Friday night in 2026? Any Friday night. I think we are available. Think of it this way- we can go out to dinner someplace without a children's menu, we won't have to pay a sitter, and we can probably even sleep in the next morning!

What do you say? Are you free?

Love,

Rachel

Heartbreaker

2011-04-25T17:11:00.001-07:00

I always knew that you would break my heart. It's just that I thought it would happen much later in life.

I assumed that you would fall for a pretty girl. I envisioned what you would look like together. You in a handsome tuxedo, her in a strapless ball gown. I would be left on the sidelines. An observer, someone you knew you had to leave behind.

I didn't think it would happen so soon.

I thought maybe someday, years from now, you might find me overbearing. I understood that there would be a time when you would seek independence and search for your "true self." Perhaps you would fancy a flashy car. You might grow tired of our family life and look to someone else for comfort, I would no longer be enough.

But really now? Right now?

You're only five and a half for Pete's sake! And already you favor someone else? You prefer your daddy all the time? I knew you were a papa's boy from early on, but in my heart I thought you would always come to mommy when you were in need of emotional comfort. Last night as you stood there shivering, naked and hysterical with a small gash under your chin from a slip in the bath you wanted daddy. It had to be daddy who took you to the emergency room. It was daddy who would keep you safe and sound.

While your chin was easily put back together with a little super glue my dear, mommy's heart is busted.

Sunday Kvetches & Kvells

2011-04-24T18:27:00.000-07:00

Sometimes a picture says it all.

The Bump:

Kvetches

Kvells
Easter Sunday

Kvetches:

Kvells

Soon Enough

2011-04-22T18:01:00.000-07:00

Today was one of those days where I earned my keep as a mommy. It's 6:00 pm and I am so worn out that I don't know if I even have the energy to write about it.

The boys woke us up early, as has been the routine the past few weeks. Each morning we hear a little pitter patter of feet, followed by an explosion of giggles and then a hard thump, as we are clobbered in the head by a toddler and a rowdy five year old who want to "cuddle." Then there is the bickering between boys about who has the most space and who bumped who. We lie there for a few minutes before giving in and getting up. Today was a bit different. Today the kids came into our room and Evan immediately fell into my arms and lay there breathing softly on my neck. At first I was in heaven. How often do I get a hug like that? Then I realized how warm he felt. Hot. He was sick.

And the day began. I canceled my 10am (much needed) haircut and dropped Zack off at school. Evan threw up on me on the way into the building. Lovely.

The rest of the morning was filled with vomit and laundry. The afternoon improved, but I decided that we needed to stay at home, since Evan was not well, which meant entertaining two kiddos when what I really wanted was a nap. We played cards (resulting in an absolute temper tantrum when *somebody* lost), and made Easter cupcakes, which was a huge, albeit messy hit.

And now, I am spent. Exhausted. Afraid. How on earth would I have handled today if I had a fussy newborn to tend to on top of this all? I suppose I will find out soon enough.....

Yelp Restaurant Reviewers: Zack & Evan

2011-04-19T11:01:00.001-07:00

Yelp Restaurant Reviews, By Evan & Zachary

Zachary's Subway Review:

Location: Lakeshore Ave, Oakland California

Stars *****

Comments:

If I could give Subway 100 stars I would. This is my absolute favorite place for a dining out experience! To start with the food is out of this world good. I always order a ham and cheese sandwich on whole wheat bread with pickles and a dollop of mayo. Perfect every time! What's better? Subway has a great selection of Cheetos. Crunchy and delicious. Their bottled chocolate milk is also spectacular, smooth going down and sugar forward. The ambiance is classic. Comfortable wooden booths, bright cheerful florescent lighting. With the comforting crumbs and dirt on the floor, it feels just like home.

Evan's Subway Review:

Stars *****

Comments:

I love the chocolate milky! I want to eat at Subway because they have good chocolate milky.

Zachary's McDonald's Review

Location: Downtown Oakland

Stars: *****

Comments:

You can't go wrong with McDonald's, and this holds true for the location I visited recently in downtown Oakland. My family and I arrived for dinner on a weeknight and the place was hopping. It was a very vibrant crowd. Lively conversation mixed with some people who found the booths so comfortable they were sleeping in them! Wow! The food is divine. I like the hamburger happy meal, it is such a great deal! The happy meal not only comes with a hamburger, french fries and milk but also a high-quality toy, usually one that lights up or makes noise! A great place for a toy, er I mean meal!

Evan's McDonald's Review

Stars ****

Comments:

I like McDonald's. I like the toys. Sometimes they break. Then I cry.

Zachary's Kargas Kafe Review

Location: Oakland, CA

Stars *

Comments:

The location can't be beat because it is right downstairs from my bedroom, however that may be the only thing that Kargas Kafe has going for it. To be fair, breakfast is often acceptable, if not served too late. I enjoy the selection of fine cereals which is often accompanied with fruit topping. Dinner is a lot more miss than hit! Over-cooked hamburgers, bland chicken and vegetables, always served in portions far too large. The food never comes with a prize and the beverage selection is usually limited to milk or water. If the quality of your meal is poor, the cook will not make you a new dinner, don't even bother asking. I often have left my food untouched, that is how bad it is. The service at Kargas Kafe is not as attentive as I would like. I have literally had to scream "napkin!" four or five times before one is presented to me. Give this place a pass.

Evan's Kargas Kafe Review

Stars: **

Comments:

I like the milky! Lots of milky. The blueberries are my favorite. I don't eat the dinners -YUCKY. I won't eat the dinners! I won't! I won't! I won't! They can't make me!!!!!

Sunday Kvells and Kvetches

2011-04-17T20:24:00.000-07:00

I'm going to attempt a special Sunday edition for the next few weeks. I have noticed that a lot of bloggers do "Wordless Wednesdays" or "Thanksgiving Thursdays." I have decided on "Sunday Kvells & Kvetches." This way I can reflect back on the good and the not-so-good of each week. I suspect that some Sundays there may be more kvetching than kvelling, but we shall see. Let's give this little experiment a go.

Kvell: It was a beautiful weekend and for the most part my boys were reasonably well behaved. In fact they got on quite nicely with each other. Saturday the boys and I hit the ever famous Fairyland while daddy shopped for mini-vans. For those of you who do not live in the bay area, let me fill you in on Fairyland. It's a scruffy, old-fashioned kiddie "amusement park" created sometime in the fifties and never renovated. It follows a fairytale/nursery rhyme theme, Alice & Wonderland, Little Miss Muffet, The Three Pigs, etc. It is incredibly low budget and low tech. There are only a small handful of "rides" and many worn out play structures. However, it would be hard to call it anything less than charming. The kids love it. Evan and Zachary had a grand old time and Zachary was the ever helpful big brother, taking Evan on the slides and rides he was too scared to do solo. I was so proud of him.

Kvetch: I am an enormous whale of a person. I am certain that the pregnancy whining has grown quite old and may frustrate readers who feel I should just be thankful, so apologies in advance. I can hardly bend over. I am feeling nauseated at the moment. My clothes don't fit. I consume about 20 Tums on a daily basis. The baby is kicking so hard it hurts. I feel massively unattractive. Boo. Boo. Boo.

Kvell: While touring the hospital last week I visited the gift shop. I purchased each of the boys an"I'm a big brother!" button. My husband was skeptical, he didn't think that the present would go over well. Boy was he wrong! As soon as I presented Zachary with his button he yelled "Just what I have been wanting!" He has worn the button every single day since, and in the evening he keeps it "safe" on his bedside table. How cute is that?

Kvetch: I am a very, very bad Jew. I was already aware of this, however since having children I have made an effort to expose my kids to the culture. We have had Hanukkah parties, attended Purim celebrations and Rosh Hoshana services. Now Passover is here, one of my favorite Jewish holidays. We aren't doing a thing. Nada. Not even a family Seder. I had originally planned on inviting another family and hosting a kid friendly Seder, but bailed because I simply didn't have the energy to get it together. Passover is a big deal. It's cooking and cleaning and in our case planning an actual ritual from scratch. My husband is not Jewish and has never lead a Seder before, and I am also fairly clueless. So we are sadly letting the holiday pass with little acknowledgment. I feel a little guilty and a bit disappointed.

I'll leave it at that. A nice neutral balance of the ups and downs. Let's see what the next week brings....

Baby on the brain

2011-04-15T19:25:00.001-07:00

It's Friday evening. I'm still here. I did survive. Somehow or another I made it through the dreaded three hour glucose test. I drank the thick sludge ("berry" flavored this time.) I sat in an uncomfortable chair in the lab for what felt like eternity and endured four blood draws. I'm still standing. I know what your thinking...just how did she do it? Super-power mama strength I suppose.

Now I wait for the results. Wish me luck. My biggest fear is that I'll have gestational diabetes and some well-meaning nutritionist will inform me that my grande decaf mocha's are off the table. How I will mourn. They have been the one pure indulgence of this pregnancy. Without my Starbucks, I got nothin'.

On the bright side only seven weeks to go. Less than two months. I am ready. I have baby on the brain. Last night the husband and I toured the hospital where I will deliver. When making the rounds on the labor and delivery floor I saw women in labor, women wheeling bassinets with brand new babies, and proud new dads on their cell phones. I was overwhelmed with the feeling of.... jealousy. It isn't as if I want the baby to arrive too early, it's just that I would be more than happy to press the fast-forward button and magically transport to my delivery date. I'm ready to hold my newborn in my arms. I'm ready to see the color of his eyes and the shape of his tiny nose. I am ready for those first few tender days in the hospital, the kind nurses bringing me juice and pain killers, everyone smiling and well-wishing. The very beginning of a life. I'm ready.

I admit it. I am also ready to not be pregnant anymore. To kiss the acid reflux and bloody noses goodbye. To sleep on my tummy and have more energy. To have my body back, fit into normal clothes, drink wine and eat raw sushi. Will I miss any of this? I suppose I will miss feeling the baby move inside me. Our special bond, where he is mine and mine alone. I am all that my baby needs. Me. Once I give birth, my son is given to the world and every day that passes I will need to let him go just a little bit more. Zachary is living proof that they grow up fast. Too damn fast.

I decided to take a trip down memory lane and show Zachary our first moments together, for he was once a my newborn too.....

How to torture a pregnant woman in her third trimester

2011-04-12T21:42:00.000-07:00

How to torture a pregnant woman in her third trimester:

1) Require pregnant woman (PW), to fast. This means waking up in the morning, feeding the rest of the family breakfast, watching her husband drink coffee and refraining from consuming even a morsel.

2) PW must then report straight to Labcorp for the first of several blood draws. PW may already be feeling grumpy and woozy from lack of nourishment, might as well stick her with a needle and suck some blood out of her.

3) Force PW to drink a thick nauseating "orange flavored" beverage. This beverage will likely cause her to heave and nearly toss the slim contents of her stomach, but she must jug it within five minutes under the watchful eye of a cranky technician who wreaks of tobacco.

4) Make PW stay in drafty lab waiting room for a total of three hours. She must watch a slew of unhappy, unhealthy people pass in and out of the facility coughing and spreading their sick germs. Every so often PW will need to report to the back for another test, more blood sucking. PW is not to eat anything during this time.

5) Dismiss PW and inform her that her results will be back "sometime" soon. Results may determine that she has gestational diabetes and must refrain from eating anything good for the remainder of her pregnancy.

Hurray. I am headed for a three hour glucose blood test on Friday. T-O-R-T-U-R-E. I should probably be concerned for the health of my baby, but honestly I am not worried. My levels were only slightly off, however I am still required to take this test. I am dreading this experience the way some folks might dread a colonoscopy. The more I think about that drink, the more my skin crawls. I know that I am only making it worse. By the time Friday morning rolls around I just may not be able to do it.

Ain't life grand?

Oy, I'm kvelling!

2011-04-10T21:23:00.000-07:00

For better or for worse I tend to do a lot of complaining here on getrealmama. Perhaps that's what you love or hate about this site. But today I am going to take a detour from the norm and do a little bit of healthy kvelling. (For those of you who don't know, that's Yiddish for bursting with pride.)

My kids are pretty darn awesome. There I said it.

My oldest? Genius. That's right. The kid is crazy smart. He is definitely reading at levels well above kindergarten. He is incredibly inquisitive and remembers all kinds of ridiculous facts about planets and dinosaurs. I have actually started to wonder if he may be bored in kindergarten. Yeah I may ultimately become one of those parents. The annoying mom at the PTA who is always inquiring about gifted programs. Blech.

Then there is Evan. Sweet as sugar Evan. That kid is so stinking cute he could get away with murder. He is over the top affectionate. He gives out kisses and "I love yous" all day long. This afternoon he barged in on my much needed nap, awakening me from blessed slumber to cuddle. How could I say no? He lay next to me proclaiming "Mommy I love you!" over and over again while planting snotty, wet kisses on my cheek. Damn do I love that kid.

And the baby inside? Let's just say he is going to be a star athlete. The munchkin is strong and throwing out punches and kicks worthy of an infant three times his side. I swear to God.

So there you have it. I'm one proud mama.

Stay tuned, I promise that I will be back soon with more kvetching.

Marlo Thomas, Natasha & my boys

2011-04-08T20:16:00.000-07:00

Natasha Zabrina. The most anxiously anticipated prize of my childhood. Chubby cheeks, braided hair, and a tush with an autograph stamped straight across it. My cabbage patch doll. Received at the height of the cabbage patch craze. It came by mail, a gift from one of my mother's friends. It seemed like an impossible dream come true. Everyone wanted one of these ugly babies, many of my school friends already owned one, but at the time they were illusive, difficult to find and far too expensive for the family budget. Yet, cabbage patch twins arrived at our door, one for my sister and one just for me.

For a few months I took Natasha everywhere with me. My mother helped us pick out actual preemie baby clothes at Shopko for our dolls so that there could be frequent wardrobe changes. When we wore pajamas, our dolls wore pajamas. When we dressed in red, white and blue for the Forth of July parade, the "girls" dressed in the same patriotic glory.

I don't know when I lost interest in Natasha, but it was well before my younger sister who went on to collect several other siblings for her doll. Mine was left in my closet until all of these years later when it arrived once again on my doorstep in a box. My mother sent me Natasha and some of her clothes, along with my wedding dress and vale. A girly trip down memory lane. One that, surprisingly my sons were quite interested in. Who knew?

They were particularly interested in my dolly. Okay, I had to do a little persuading at first, but they took the bait, by gosh they did, hook, line and sinker. Before I knew it we were changing "dolly" into her pajamas. Zachary read her a bed time story. We made her a little bed and tucked her in. Evan gave dolly a kiss goodnight. I snapped a picture. I figured we may never, ever play with a doll again in this house. My kids are very stereotypical boys. Trucks, superheros, Captain Underpants. You get the idea. But the next morning? The boys insisted on getting Natasha dressed for the day. Zachary picked out a blue sailor suit and Evan made sure that she had socks. She came down to breakfast with us. My heart sang.

Maybe my life would be a little more Marlo Thomas and "Free To Be You & Me" than I thought. Maybe my boys would become sensitive, compassionate caregivers who like romantic comedies. Maybe this means that our future will hold lots of long meaningful talks about our feelings over tea.

Maybe.

Natasha scores again.

Red lights ahead

2011-04-06T21:40:00.000-07:00

Keeping things in perspective, I just read an article in People magazine about a woman who lost all four of her limbs due to a rare, deadly case of strep. This happened just after she gave birth to her third child. Clearly this is terrible misfortune. There are homeless families, people without enough food to eat, a country torn apart by natural disaster.

I get it, I have it good.

And yet.... I complain. Human nature? My nature? What can I say? I suppose we all have our own reality, experiences and feelings. So please forgive me. I know that I am fortunate. I count my blessings.

But I'm in a bit of a funk.

On my drive home from a play date at a Berkeley park it felt as if I caught every single red light. I had two tired, hungry kids in the backseat and I was trying to get them home and fed before a rare dinner date with a friend. But I couldn't get anywhere. Like a bad dream, I got stopped at every traffic light. And I thought to myself, what a metaphor for my life these days.

Take work for example, I am on a stretch of terrible "luck." Nothing seems to go my way. I feel like I hear no about 100 times each day. It's getting annoying and disheartening. I am starting to feel as though I am cursed, even a failure.

My dinner date tonight? I was meeting one of the few good friends that I have made while living in California. She is the kind of person I feel like I can really be myself with. She is fun, and best of all she actually makes time for me. She's moving. Of course she is. I am so discouraged I feel like throwing in the towel. I feel like screaming "Uncle! I give up!" Making a social network and true friendships in a new place is not easy, and my progress seems to be incredibly slow. My friend's move feels like another red light.

I could go on, but it's boring. This is probably one of those posts I should refrain from putting out there, but then again, I have always worn my heart on my sleeve.

Hopefully tomorrow I'll awake with a better attitude. The sun will be shining. I'll feel grateful for what I have. Perhaps I'll even catch a few green lights.

You know it's your third when....

2011-04-03T17:38:00.000-07:00

You know you are expecting your third when:

You completely forget what week of pregnancy you are in and have no idea when your next OB appointment is.

You refuse to buy Dreft, and haven't pre-washed any of the new baby clothes. Whatever detergent is on sale will do.

You understand that you will never get your pre-baby body back (without plastic surgery.)

You look forward to your hospital stay...it's practically a spa after all.

What To Expect is no longer your bible.

How your pet will react to the new addition is of no concern to you.

You briefly contemplate hiring a professional stylist to do your hair and makeup at the hospital, after all you know those first pictures are going to be all over Facebook.

Nesting? What's the point? A well-organized nursery will be destroyed approximately three days after baby comes home.

You get jittery anytime someone tells you that they are jealous of your maternity leave, envious of the long "break" you will be getting. You resist the urge to ask them if they have ever had a vacation that involved major surgery, sleep deprivation, dieting and cracked nipples.

You are even more excited about the arrival of your newborn than you were with your first. You have been there before, and you know that there is nothing, nothing, more exhilarating than holding your baby for the very first time.

Flying

2011-03-31T20:28:00.000-07:00

I love this picture. I just snapped it with my cell phone this evening. What a beautiful day. Mid 70's. Sunny. It felt like summer. We went to the playground after work and it was packed. Apparently everyone had the same idea we did. We attempted to share the equipment with the hoards of other kids and parents, but quickly found that playing tag in the grass was way more fun. Of course I'm not a fierce competitor these days given my propensity for waddling, but I can still keep up with a 2.5 year old.

There was a lot of running, tickling, laughing and eventually "flying." There is nothing that the boys like more than being tossed up in the air by their daddy.

Oh to be two-and-a-half. To be given to the sky by the strong arms of my father and trust that I would come down safe and sound. To believe that every day will be running barefoot through the grass with the ones who love me best.

It's good to be two. I only wish that my baby could stay there just a little bit longer.

Abercrombie & Fitch cares.... about pedophiles

2011-03-30T17:42:00.000-07:00

Merry Christmas pedophiles!

That's right, December 25th came early for you this year. Abercrombie & Fitch is giving you a special gift!

Realizing that this segment of the population must feel alienated and misunderstood the fashion company has acknowledged the needs of perverts everywhere. The company is now marketing a padded, push-up bikini top for eight year olds!

Wow! But this isn't the first time Abercrombie & Fitch has created a product specifically for pedophiles. Remember the thong made for the elementary school crowd?

What's next? Fish-net stockings in size 4T? A leather halter top for school photos? Throw out some suggestions child pornographers, Abercrombie & Fitch appears to be all ears....

Life goes on

2011-03-28T18:56:00.000-07:00

I read an article in today's New York Times. (Don't look so shocked, occasionally I put down People magazine in favor of something more intellectually stimulating.) The article discussed post-tsunami Japan and the atmosphere of self-restraint rapidly spreading across a country in mourning. Not only are companies and individuals taking great strides to conserve electricity, but the country is also adopting a culture which encourages the shunning of anything considered luxury or celebratory. Sushi and karaoke bars have shut their doors. Graduations, celebrations and cherry blossom tours have been canceled. It is a somber place. Of course it is. The country and our world has witnessed unthinkable, uncontrollable tragedy. So many lives lost. Communities gone. The grave threat of radiation and nuclear meltdown lingers.

And it could happen again. It will happen again. It has happened before.

I think back to the tragedy which occurred in our own country on September 11th, 2001. We walked around in a daze those first weeks after the attacks. We were shocked and terrified. So many people killed needlessly, so much uncertainty about what our future held. Of course I was far away from the twin towers, it would have been a much different experience had I been in New York rather than Minneapolis. Yet still, we didn't know how to respond. Our lives went on. We got up and went to work the very next day, distracted and sad, but off we went, going through the motions. I had dinner plans with friends a few days later. We decided to go through with them. I'll never forget that evening. We walked through Uptown, clutching candles that kept blowing out in the wind. An email had circulated informing us that candle lighting would be appropriate. So we made our way to the restaurant fussing over our silly candles. The eatery was half empty, unusual for a Friday night. I felt guilty for being there at first. As the evening went on our conversation of course focused around nothing but 9/11. We talked to other diners. We talked to our waitress, who told us how her brother was forced to cancel his wedding which had been scheduled for the weekend. We shared in a way that we normally would not have shared with strangers. I felt comfort in sharing that moment with my friends. I'm glad that I didn't stay home.

Babies were born on September 11th. Can you imagine that? In the midst of all the tragedy some mother was giving birth. Experiencing one of life's greatest gifts on a day so tragic. Life went on.

Life goes on.

I mean no disrespect. People need to mourn and grieve in their own way. We need to show compassion and love for one another. Perhaps during these initial post tsunami weeks, a birthday party or a graduation celebration feels inappropriate. But I believe that we need to continue to see the beauty in our world and in our lives. We cannot stop natural disasters and we will never fully be able to control the actions of terrorists, but I also do not want to live this life in a state of constant fear, without joy.

So for the people in Japan who can, I hope they will go see the cherry blossoms blooming, and celebrate the birth of their new babies.

We have no other choice.

Cheater

2011-03-27T17:42:00.000-07:00

I cheated. Betrayed trust. Broke unspoken promises. I didn't plan on this happening, it just did. One of my best friends made the introduction and in fact, this is someone who she has been seeing for years. I can't turn back now. I left our first encounter feeling inspired and beautiful. This person has fresh ideas, a new perspective and quite frankly..... she does good hair. That's right I found a new stylist, and will thus be leaving the woman who has been cutting my hair for the past year. I do feel guilty. It's a bit like breaking up. But a girl has gotta do what a girl has gotta do. I spent Saturday with one of closest friends, Erica. We met for brunch and then she took me to her stylist, a woman who she has been doing her hair for years. Erica raves about her, but I didn't put much stock into her evaluation since she happens to have some of the most beautiful hair of anyone I know. It would be pretty hard to mess it up. But I gave her a shot, and decided to kiss the bangs buh-bye. I'm quite pleased with the result. I have been converted. I have a new stylist, one who is closer to my Oakland home, is talented and best of all.....serves wine with a cut. How could I resist?

Body After Baby. BOOO!

2011-03-25T21:56:00.000-07:00

I admit it. I read trashy celebrity magazines. In my defense, I do have standards. I don't sink as low as Star. Instead I prefer the higher caliber People and Us Weekly. I know it's bad for me. I know that I should be spending reading time perusing the New York Times. Call it a guilty pleasure.

I had my fill today. I was stuck at the doctor's office for hours. First I had to wait for my scheduled OB appointment. I don't know why they bother with a scheduling system. The office is usually off by at least forty-five minutes. After my routine appointment I had to head to the lab for the standard glucose blood test done at the beginning of the third trimester. For those of you who are blissfully unaware of what this test entails, I will fill you in. First the patient must fast for at least six hours. Then she is forced to consume (in five minutes or less) a large and repulsive glucose drink. It's thick, overly sweet and very gag-worthy. After consuming the dreaded beverage one must then wait an hour for a blood draw. The purpose is to screen for gestational diabetes. Good times.

So as I sat waiting in the lab trying not to vomit, I paged through People magazine, soaking up all of the celebrity gossip. Eventually I got to the standard "Body After Baby!" page. I hate this feature. It is always the same. Photos of a well known movie star in the last weeks of her pregnancy. She is usually looking her worst in a pair of yoga pants clutching a Venti Starbucks Frappacino. Next to the pregnancy photo is the post baby shot. The star is inevitably back into a size zero, has a flat stomach and the caption reads "2 months after baby!" In this particular edition they had a photo of some chick I'm not familiar with, showing off a perfect figure three weeks after giving birth. THREE WEEKS. Folks, I don't believe the uterus has even shrunk to it's normal size at three weeks post partum, so I am wondering what in the world this woman did to achieve a flat stomach?

Of course the article usually goes on to explain what was done to achieve the amazing results in such a short period of time. Usually it sites a diet of lean grilled meat and veggies and a vigorous workout schedule including 4 mile a day runs, pilates, yoga, and weight lifting with a trainer.

I'll have to keep that in mind when I am attempting to shed my baby weight. I'll just make sure that I have my trainer come to the house five times a week while one of my three nannies watches the boys. I'll be sure to have my personal chef whip up some organic veggies and low fat smoothies for me, or I'll have my special, portion controlled meals delivered to the door three times a day.

For the love of God, why does society do this? I believe there used to be a time when women were encouraged to indulge a little while they were pregnant, and not be expected to slip back into the skinny jeans a month after giving birth. Shouldn't we all be a little disgusted by these women who spend more time at the gym after giving birth than nurturing their newborn? I'm not advocating that new mothers never exercise or that they needlessly hold on to an extra thirty pounds, but I am asking for a little reprieve. Let us be. We put enough pressure on ourselves to get our bodies back, we don't need pop culture dictating to us that it should be done inside of two months.

I know there is an easy solution to my dilemma. Stop looking at these magazines.

But then how would I stay up to date on details of the upcoming royal wedding? How would I know if the Bachelor is really in love?

Come on now. I've got my priorities people.

Empty

2011-03-22T20:29:00.000-07:00

Empty. My house is empty. I took my boys to the airport at the crack of dawn and watched them walk away from me, their backpacks hanging low on their tiny hips while they held tight to daddy's hands. My eyes burned and I cried all the way home, regretting my decision to stay behind.

My house will be empty for the next seven days. Just me, my stinky dog and my cats. I don't expect you to feel sorry for me. In fact I know most of my mama readers might be downright jealous. It sure does sound appealing doesn't it? Normally I would embrace this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and live it up. But things aren't normal. I'm seven months pregnant. Although I have lived in the bay area for 1.5 years, I still don't have the same network of girlfriends that I have had earlier in my life, so I have few plans for the week. If I were given this gift while (not pregnant) in Denver, I would have immediately planned a girls-night-out at my favorite Lola's. I would have hosted a wine tasting party at my house. I would have hit happy hour with old co-workers. I would have seen a chick flick with my sister.

But that was a different era. Now, I am hormonal, unable to drown my misery in Cabernet, have fewer girlfriends and live far away from family. As a result I am feeling acutely alone. Sad. Missing my family. Worried that my boys won't miss me enough.

Looking on the bright side, I'll have plenty of time for all of my favorite Bravo television, I'll get to sleep in and probably even get a massage. It could be worse, I know. But humor me a little, I'm a bit weepy, so drop me a line and say hello. I could use a little love.

Lunchbox blues.

2011-03-20T20:13:00.000-07:00

I am the first to admit that sometimes I get lazy when it comes to meals and that I don't always enforce strict "healthy" eating rules. My kids get Subway or McDonald's about once a week, and Kraft macaroni & cheese on a regular basis. They get treats. Ice cream on a warm Saturday afternoon, a Popsicle after dinner, a donut at the grocery store. That said, I also see to it that they get a variety of good foods every day. Low fat milk, fresh fruits and vegetables from the farmer's market, baked chicken and homemade turkey meatballs.

Additionally, while the kids watch an average of 30 minutes of television a day, they are extremely active. We play outside, visit the parks, ride bikes and just run. Have you seen my kids? Zack's pediatrician actually described him as "ripped" at his five year physical.

I believe that our approach to diet with the boys is balanced and healthy. Fat and sugar are not the enemy if they are an appropriate part of your weekly meal plan.

I admit that I am more than a little bit peeved about the lunch "policy" in Zachary's classroom. Actually, I am down-right hot and bothered.

I do not believe that the "policy" is an official one, at least not one that has been communicated to us parents. I have discovered the rules over time. Chocolate chip granola bars returned at the end of the day, unwrapped. A homemade cookie now smashed to pieces in a Ziploc bag. Apparently no "sweets" allowed.

Zachary and Evan are leaving on vacation on Tuesday with Daddy, so at the grocery store I suggested that get Lunchables for their Monday school lunch. I didn't want to stock up on a bunch of groceries that would go to waste while the kids were away. Lunchables are a special treat and Zack in particular loves them, thus I was very surprised when Zack told me he did not want to bring one to school. Why? I asked. He responded that he was not allowed to eat the dessert part of his boxed lunch at school. "Not even pudding?" I asked. "No, only applesauce."

The more I thought about it, the more annoyed I got. Isn't it my job to decide what my kids can and cannot eat? I understand the rules about peanuts, but pudding? Who are his teachers to say that a low fat pudding cup is an inappropriate choice for my son? It's not as if he is bringing potato chips and Ding-Dongs to school every day. As far as I am concerned as long as I am not a) starving my child b) feeding him spoiled food or c) packing crack in his lunchbox, it is really none of any one's business what he eats!

I realize that some families may have different rules about food. Some kids may not be allowed to eat sugar or processed foods of any kind. That is their choice and their business. Their children are going to be confronted with lunch box differences for the rest of their lives. The first grader who is vegan, the high school kid who brings leftover Kentucky Fried Chicken every day and the coworker who survives on vending machine meals. So I apologize if my child's lunch offends others but it seems to me that it's my choice.

What do you think? Honest opinions only please!