On My Way (or am I?)

Schiphol Airport @ Gate - June 6, 2011

Starbucks booth located.  Caramel Frappuccino ordered.  Paid fortune.  Seriously.  For EURO 4.80 I would expect at least a neck rub to go with it, though a foot rub would have been acceptable too.  The plan: go to gate, drink coffee, enjoy music on iPod.  Sounds like a sound plan, right?  In theory it was.  And then there was the reality.  Found seat, sat down, took 1^st sip and there is the voice announcing that we have to start going through security.  Being number 2 in line meant a quick check, first seated again and enjoyment.  Nope.  Wrong.  (My glass is seriously starting to look half empty at this point).  No can take Frappuccino with me.  No can do.  I knew that you can’t bring in drinks from the outside, but this one was bought right outside of the gate.  I honestly thought that the guy at the scanner was pulling my leg, but alas, he was serious.

Down I sat, next to the scanner, downing my Frappuccino.  The one that wasn’t even as good as it was supposed to.  A few minutes later my tummy was filled with sugar and caffeine and I was ready to go through the scanner, exposing once again my female bits through X-ray to some stranger with a mustache.  Contrary to exiting the USA, this time my lip gloss had to be bagged up.  I understand.  I mean, all the harm you can cause with some bright pink lip gloss.  Not containable.  Any more liquids?  Nope, that’s it.  Chapstick is still in solid form, thanks to the climate control here.  Boots off?  No, not necessary according to the guy who had me drown my stomach with Frappuccino.  Belt off?  No, not necessary.  Items go through scanner, I’m about to step into the X-ray vision machine as a voice says “Boots off!!”  What?  I’m confused now.  First I can keep them on.  Then I have to take them off.  Okay, I’ll strip myself of my knee-highs.

Once determined that my bones are all still in place and that I have no lip gloss or other dangers strapped to myself,  I get pulled aside as my carry on suitcase apparently still contains a liquid.  WHAAT?  Huh?  Totally confused now.  Really, this morning isn’t going so well at this point.  I open up my suitcase only to realize…SH*T!  Damn, I TOTALLY forgot!!  The Father’s Day present I had bought for David.  Crap!  Really, that only happens today.  Had it been any other day, I would have had to foresight to remember.  Not today.  Good thing is that the amount still fell within the allowed amount, but if I could open it up.  You mean, tear the sealed bag open that they put it in when I purchased it right before boarding in Los Angeles?  Sure, whatever.  If I could open the package.  Why?  It still has the cellophane wrapping around it, sealed and all.  Professionally done by Hugo Boss himself!  Okay, whatever, just don’t even think about taking this from me because you will experience someone throwing a fit in a way you have never experienced before, nor will ever experience again.  Bottle got opened.  Hey, while you’re at it, why not spray some on to test the smell?

Finally, I was able to put the bottle back and take it with me.  Thank you.  Can’t say the glass is filling up again, but at least it’s not going down more and more.

So, here we are: with way more people than there are seats in the waiting area, waiting to board our plane.  To the people standing I say: hey, you get 11 hours to sit, so enjoy the standing while you can.  At the same time I am happy to be seated, jealous of the guy next to me who just whipped out an iPad.  Now whereas I don’t necessarily want an iPad, I do suspect that he is not as paranoid about its battery dying as I am about my laptop’s battery – after all, there are no electrical outlets here.


Now, I do absolutely ADORE the iPod David gave me for Mother’s Day.  In the synching process with the iTunes content that my computer at home holds, it also moved over the little recordings we have made of Kai.  Just now I was surprised by hearing his voice saying the alphabet backwards, followed by “I love you mommy”.  [melt]  Glass is filling up at a rapid pace now.


Boarding is starting. Let’s hope the level of my glass’ content remains.

Going Home

Schiphol Airport, June 6, 2011, way too early in the morning.

When you have a scheming plan and things aren’t quite working out, it’s sometimes hard to stay optimistic and continue to consider the glass “half full”.  Despite things not quite working out the way I had hoped, I do still have a smidge of optimism left – though it’s getting less and less by the minute. 

After my lovely flight experience on the way coming, I decided to try my luck again for my return flight.  After all, this flight will be an hour longer (due to wind direction) and thus, some extra legroom would be a detail that would make the trip oh so much more comfy.  Given that the Dutch people are known for their punctuality, I figured that I should make sure to be at the airport 4 hours prior to departure (as opposed to the 3 that is being suggested).  Seriously, that would increase my chances of finding a (preferably male) KLM rep, who would be able to provide me with a seat by the emergency exit in exchange for a cute smile, right?  One small detail: flight departs at 9:50AM.  It doesn’t take a math expert to figure out that this means being at the airport friggin’ early.

So, alarm goes off at 3:30AM, Mommy is at Schiphol airport at 6:00AM.  Lovely.  (This is pre-caffeine.)  In an attempt to appear more “futuristic” – but honestly, I think it’s due to budget cuts – there are no more humans who do the check-in process.  Only "ATM machines".  There goes the cute-smile-to-cute-guy-behind-the-counter-idea.  I could smile all I wanted, but the ATM machine didn’t provide me with the anticipated (and desired) response.  All emergency exit seats were taken.  How?  I was one of the first people there for God’s sake!!!  Turns out that in the country where you have to pay EURO 0.50 (that’s almost $1!!) to use the bathroom in a department store, you actually can pay extra for the emergency seats, the day before when you check in online.  Well, we all know where the online check in got me the last time, so instead I spent my day in Amsterdam.

So, here we are: it’s 7:00AM, I have a boarding pass for seat 38D.  At least it’s an aisle seat.  Yes, my glass is still half full.

After check in and going through customs, my plan included some sort of caffeinated drink and a Belgian waffle.  Yes, Belgian.  I know, this ain’t Belgium, this is The Netherlands, but despite that small detail, the Belgians did once come up with the genius idea to sell their overly-delicious-sooo-to-die-for Belgian waffles in their neighboring country.  Turns out: no waffle to be found here.  Should have had one yesterday.  BUT…the glass’s still half full people.  I refuse to let that get me down.

Off to my gate to sit back and write.  Lovely.  Some peace and quiet, some reminiscing, some looking forward.  Perfect.  Gate – Check.  Chairs – Check.  Peace & Quiet – Check.  Outlets to plug my laptop-without-any-battery-life in – [nasty buzzer sound].  Not an outlet to be found.  Seriously.  I looked on each pillar, alongside the wall, around the seats, in the waiting areas.  People probably thought I was up to something.  No outlets to be found.  Not one!  Really?  I ask a Schiphol employee.  Yes, there was one behind the luggage trolleys; I could move those and sit on the ground.  Really?  You gotta be kiddin’!  Surely the benches and tables around in the restaurant area have some sort of electrical supply for my antique Powerbook?  Indeed, they had.  Sit down.  Open laptop.  Peace.  Quiet.  Bliss.  Glass still half full.

Did I say “quiet”?  Oops.  Wrong!  As I got 2 sentences written and for the first time mentioned the glass being half full, a "gentle"man positioned himself next to me.  Obviously in desperate need for a source of electricity as well.  No problem.  Yes problem.  He plugs his iPod in and starts playing music through this laptop.  Right next to me.  I can write, I can listen to music, but if I want to do either one of these well, I certainly shouldn’t do them at the same time.  Especially, if it’s not my music.  Seriously, at this point my glass was starting to become a little less “half full”.  Me move.  Me find other outlet.  Me sit down and me start writing.

In the meantime “moppie”, a German Shepherd mix of some sort, came by with an agent, checking every passenger and their belongs for (I assume) either drugs of explosives.  Awesome.  Love that and have so much respect for those dogs.  Unfortunately “moppie” (as the agent called him and which is Dutch for “sweetie”) got a little distracted with the backpack of the lady sitting opposite of me.  She apparently had packed her lunch (as Dutch people do) and given that we are the Cheese Mecca of the world…well, you see where that went.  Very funny.  No, “Moppie” didn’t consume the sandwich, but it certainly posed as a short-lived distraction.

I remember enjoying my “last” Frappuccino at LAX airport a week ago when I was about to embark on this awesome journey.  I remember thinking that I wouldn’t get one for a whole week.  Well, the American coffee culture has also penetrated our little coffee-obsessed country and though I doubt that Starbucks will ever take over the coffee culture as we know it here, they do exist and there is one branch here at Schiphol airport.  No Belgian waffles, but hey, there’s Starbucks.  I’d prefer a Belgian waffle though.  Unfortunately I am slowly but surely coming to the conclusion that it is what it is and my chances of getting a Belgian waffle here are as small as me ending up with a seat next to the emergency exit on my 11-hour flight.  I think my glass is still somewhere close to half-full, but I am not as sure as I was earlier this morning when I woke up.  I think I am going to treat myself to my Caramel Frappuccino.  I have a feeling that might help fill the glass a bit more.

SURPRISE!

Monday, May 30 2011 (Memorial Day)

About a month ago, I returned from work one afternoon and was welcomed by David telling me he had talked to my parents.  Now, whereas there’s nothing strange about that, he continued by saying that he “needed to ask them for advice.” About me. Huh?  After 8 years of marriage?  Really? If I could sit down, because he needed to talk to me.  Now, I ceased being able to keep up with the speed at which my brain was working: did I shop (too much)?  Did I forget something?  Did I say something?  Did I not say something?  Maybe I did shop too much.  This cannot be good.

Then he told me: had had wanted to surprise me and didn’t quite know how to go about it.  My best childhood friend (for 30 years) is getting married in my hometown in The Netherlands this Wednesday and he wanted to surprise me with a ticket to attend the wedding to surprise her.  The thing he needed advice from my parents on: should he go ahead and pack my suitcase? Then, have me come home from work one day, only to inform me that that very evening I would be flying out to Europe?  Or, should he tell me now, so I could prepare?

Luckily, my parents (and David too) knew me well enough to know that I am graced with an A-personality and figured that therefore I would appreciate the heads up, so I could arrange someone to cover me for work, get a dress, get accessories, pack myself and shop.  (Notice the recurring element here?)

And here we are.  Approximately a month later: at LAX, enjoying my last Frapuccino (with extra caramel and whipped cream – when you have one, you gotta do it right) before getting on a plane and not be able to have another one until a week from now when I return.  Frappuccino, time and a laptop to write.  Heaven.

This will be my first trip alone – without David, without the children (other than my so-much-enjoyed Mom’s Weekend Out from last year).  Between booking my ticket and yesterday I was ecstatic: a week for myself.  Surprising Saskia, attending her wedding, spending time with my parents, seeing my 2 best friends from college and my “Oma” and playing tourist in my home country.  Not having to keep the boys from bothering each other, from expressing their dominance and from stealing each other’s toys.  Ahhh, peace and quiet.  Even the plane ride: I get to sit back, watch movies, eat, drink and sleep.  That sounded pretty good to me.

Then came yesterday.  I packed and got everything ready for this week’s trip.  And then it hit me: I was also leaving the hugs and kisses, the giggles, the tickles, the bright faces and the “I LOVE you Mommy” behind.  The mixed feelings set in and the excitement was joined by some sadness, melancholy and a small dose of emptiness.

The goodbye at the airport was quick, but left me with watery eyes.  The time I had, waiting to check my luggage, was just enough to once again realize how blessed I was for having such an amazing husband such cool sons.  Life is good.

When I made my reservation I had selected that I preferred an aisle seat.  With legs that are part of a 6ft. body, I desperately need to be able to stretch them – especially on a 10-hour flight.  Imagine my surprise when I checked in online yesterday and I was assigned a middle seat.  Huh?  What had gone wrong?  A phone call to the Delta customer support center didn’t yield much.  I was able to get an aisle seat for the way back.  Dear young, simple soul at the call center:  Please don’t make it sound like you were able to help me out a great deal.  You simply gave me 1/2 of what I should have had to begin with.  That is nothing to be proud about! 

And there he was: the man who was going to make my day (other than my husband and my 2 boys).  He was the KLM employee behind the check-in counter with whom I was going to try my luck.  And lucky I got, at the KLM check-in counter.  I got the last emergency exit seat.  Ya know, the one with extra legroom.  ChaChing!  Yes Baby!  Mama got lucky and Mama’s LOVIN’ it.  It’s the beginning of a beautiful thing.
Being 3 hours early is paying off in abundance: dropped my suitcase off at the TSA checkpoint without waiting.  Security check: no waiting.  And then: the body scan!  Oh yeah! Complete strangers got to see parts of me that neither my husband, nor I have ever seen myself.  Now, I completely understand the procedure and it certainly provides a certain sense of security, but all I’m saying is “I’m happy I’m not in that particular week of the month.”  You know, when they see what type of feminine hygiene products you use.  AWKWARD!

And here I am.  Judging by the line at the gate that is longer and longer, I think we’ll be boarding soon.  I never really get the reasoning behind that.  Why wait in line, standing, when you will be called to board by row?  There is absolutely no use being in front of the line, when you’re going to be called last anyways.

On that note, let me sign off and pack up here.  Let’s get the party started.

NOTE: due to the surprise-nature of my trip the publishing of this post has been delayed.

Surprises, Growing Up and Catching Up

I love surprises.  LOVE LOVE LOVE surprises.  Good ones, fun ones, cool ones,that is.  I love surprising and I love being surprised.  The hardest part when I am (part of) the "Surpriser" (as opposed to the "Surprisee" - spell check tells me there are no such terms known in the English language.  I say: "As of now there are") is to not let anything be known.  To the Surprisee that is.  Keeping my mouth shut is do-able.  [Strike that.  No, it's not.]  Not mentioning anything directly is do-able, not writing about it, or eluding to it is challenging.  Hence me not having written for a while.

We surprised David’s dad with a visit over Easter weekend.  David’s Stepmother had arranged for us to fly out to visit them, so my Father-in-Law was made to believe that family from Canada was coming.  Awesome surprise.  My in-laws had seen Ryder when he was just born.  The giant baby they got to spend time with during this visit was a completely different phenomenon than the (still substantial) infant they had met just over a year ago.  Kai was super excited about the prospect of flying.  He – on purpose – did not get to talk to his grandpa in the weeks preceding our trip as he was obsessed with the fact that he was “going to fly in an airplane to visit grandpa in Texas!”

With the California weather warming up and in anticipation of our trip, we decided that the moment had come.  The moment that Kai needed to get a big-boy haircut.  No more trimming attempts from Papa.  Real haircut.  The place where this momentous event was going to take place?  A salon called Little Rock Star.  I mean, c’mon, the name itself exudes confidence and coolness.  Perfect for my Little Dude.  My Little Dude who would enter as Little Dude and exit as Cool Rockstar.  The chairs are cool cars, and thus, perfect for toddler dudes.  Armed with a snack cup with Goldfish, David took Kai on his little make-over excursion.  Here’s what followed:

Before:

Ready (not so much)...Set...

Go!

Finished:

I will never forget the feeling that consumed me when he came running in and exclaimed:  “Mommy!  I have spikes!”  I cried.  Yes, I cried on the inside and I had a hard time holding back the tears.  My toddler had walked out the door earlier that afternoon and a boy returned.  I lovingly renamed him my Cool Rockstar Dude.

So, armed with spiky hair, his own suitcase and a painfully overpriced chocolate croissant, Kai was ready to conquer the sky.

And he did.

Ryder on the other hand...what shall I say...made me not want to return to Los Angeles.  The thought of taking him onto a plane again, without being able to make it understood that I will get him (pretty much) anything his heart desires if only he can make sure as to NOT to cry during the flight, was not something that appealed to me very much.  A 3-hour flight isn’t that long, but it is LOOOOOOONG if you have a very unhappy baby on your lap.  Let’s leave it at that.

We had a lovely time in Texas:

The kids got up to mischief

Beautiful Sunsets

Going for walks and being able to run without being worried about traffic

Making new friends at the playground

Going out for dinner and having a vat ‘o Margarita

Going on an Easter Egg Hunt

Opening Easter Eggs

And lots of cuddles

In other words, we had fun.

The way back...how do I put this?  The first 45 minutes were AWESOME:

After that...let’s just say that we were "that" family.  Yes, the family that oh so many hate as they seem to be incapable of soothing their screaming baby.  Yes, that was us.  And to those people, I say: You obviously don’t have kids.

In other news:
Over the past few weeks Kai has been on an eating strike.  “I don’t like __________” was the evening catch phrase for several weeks.  Even to foods that until recently were categorized as “Favorite”.  I really try not to let it bother me, but for a foodie the “I don’t like _________” is like nails on a chalkboard.  Fast forward to last Thursday when some TV character ate an apple.  Don’t remember the God who consumed the precious fruit, but a God (s)he was.  From that moment on: apples, pears, bananas, blueberries, humus, broccoli and carrots.  The other day he just ate raw broccoli and carrots for dinner. Didn’t touch the meat and home baked sweet potato fries.  Just raw veggies, all the while announcing “I LOVE broccowee and cawods Mama!”  Now, I am seriously considering buying stock in local broccoli and carrot farms.  Happy Mama.

As far as Ryder and food are concerned: Match made in Heaven. Ryder just eats and eats and eats.  I already need a bigger fridge, simply to store the food, which that child consumes.  There is almost nothing that he won’t eat. (Except spinach and lettuce.)

And then there was Mother’s Day.  Ever since 2008, when he missed the fact that his wife was now a mother too, 3 months after she gave birth to Kai, David has been on it with every single Mother’s Day, making up for this mistake that (nonetheless)  will haunt him for the rest of his life.  (Mama will make sure of that.)  This year was no different (no, I didn’t bring up the 2008 Mother’s Day.  HE did!).  It started out with sleeping in.  A 10am “Happy Mother’s Day MAMA!!!” wish and a big hug and kiss from Kai, followed by a beautiful breakfast in bed.  A drawing from Kai contained an iPod and accessories for Mama’s new car!  A beautifully wrapped gift from David contained a gorgeous necklace to go with a new dress that I had bought.  2 hours later I left the house to go for a 1-1/2 hour massage.  1-hour massages I am familiar with (OH YES, I AM), but I had never had a 1-1/2 hour massage and it was awesome.  Now that I have drank the 1-1/2 hour massage “Koolaid”, I am hooked.  Seriously, that was indulgence.  The rest of the day was spent with hugs and kisses from all my boys.  An easy and lovely dinner finished the day.

Unfortunately, that night the boys (the little ones) decided that since it was past Midnight, Mother’s Day was over and Mama could resume her duties.  Kai was up from midnight – 3pm with “growing pains” in his legs.  Massage and cuddles helped him.  Me, not so much.  I have decided that the child needs a bigger bed, so that I can fit in it on nights like these.  At 3:30 Ryder decided that sleeping during the night was severely overrated.  He was up and decided to let us know.  Somehow I ended up with him falling asleep on my chest in the glider.  Lovely at first, truly, but after a while my body started to get sore and stiff.  As comfortable as the glider is, it’s not an ideal sleeping location.  I snoozed on and off for an hour with Ryder in my arms, until I woke up at 5am, in desperate need of another 1-1/2 hour massage.  Ryder relocated to the crib (and slept through the relocation) and mama tiptoed to her bed, where I was able to catch 1 hour of sleep, before my alarm went off at 6am.  Seriously, I vote for a Mother’s Day at least every quarter.

In the last week Kai came down with his first ear infection.  Both kids battled a cold that lingered around for a good 2 weeks.  They are both over it, Kai is done with his antibiotics and it seems like we can move on again.  I suspect that Ryder is doing some serious Molar-Growing as the fussiness levels have reached insane heights over the past few days.  Did I mention that it should be Mother’s Day more often?  All I say is Mommy Timeout is a good thing!  It’d be nicer if it came with a cocktail and a shoulder rub, but I will take any timeout I can get.

All of Ryder’s eating has allowed him to outgrow his changing table.  The boy is 15 months old and he is longer than his changing table is wide.  Combine that with his strong dislike of getting his diaper changed and it makes for sometimes frustrating and sometimes amusing scenarios.  When it was time for the inevitable diaper change (you know, the one that happens approximately 8 times/day), this afternoon, he wasn’t having it.  Kicking, thrashing and kicking.  Did I mention kicking?  Unfortunately for him, Mama (for now) is still stronger and wins the battle, so on the changing table he goes.  He gets mad.  Kicks in the air and in his movement down hits the wooden end of the changing table with his heel.  Screams.  Gets mad.  Puts his heels against the end of the changing table.  Pushes.  Pushes so hard that he pushes himself up and hits his head on the (other) wooden end of the table.  Gets madder.  Wants toy.  Gets toy.  Doesn’t want toy and throws toy.  Toy obeys the laws of gravity and comes sailing down as mama is unable to catch it in between wiping butt and changing diaper.  Toy lands on chin.  Baby now livid.  Takes toy and angrily starts waving it around – to teach damn toy a lesson.  Waves so hard that knuckles hit the side of the changing table and toy, once again, follows gravity and falls to the ground.  Baby madder than mad.  Wants other toy.  Gets other toy.  Doesn’t want THAT toy.  Yes, does want THAT toy.  No.  Yes.  No.  Yes.  Aaaaah, we’re done.  Finally.

So, that’s where we’re at in this house full of testosterone.  We’re happy.  We’re blessed.  We’re fed.  And...exhausted, but, we go on and try to enjoy each step of the way.  Yes, I said we “try”.  I just need to remind myself of that at 4 o’clock in the morning.

My "OMG-I-Totally-Missed-That-Moment"

Math in Los Angeles goes something like this:  rain in the Valley = snow in the Mountains.

So, after a few weeks of some substantially wet days, we were talking about taking that day and making it up into the mountains.  And we continued to talk.  And we continued to talk.  By the time we were finishing up the conversation we had spent several days drinking iced drinks in the sun outside and we came to the conclusion that we had to speed things up before the snow was completely gone.

And there we went, on a Sunday in March.  We had borrowed snow gear from friends, I had packed sandwiches, baked cookies and made hot cocoa and off we were.  It was a sunny day and around 65 degrees.  That was around 8am.  Yes, we were practically dressed in T-shirts and shorts on our way up to the snow.  The closer we got to Mt. Pinos, the more doubts I started to have on validity of the website that I had been checking over the days leading up to our daytrip, telling me there was enough snow to be found "up there".  But, as we arrived at the top, we were welcomed by slopes covered in white magic.  Perfect.

We bundled up the kids, we bundled up ourselves and off we went.  Yes, by then it was below freezing with a bright blue sky and strong wind.  Chilly.

It was the boys' first snow experience.  Ryder spent most of the morning managing to pull his gloves off, only for me to put them back on.  If not busy with that, he occupied himself with only 1 other thing: screaming his little head off:

So the kid doesn't like the snow.  Understandable, but not acceptable.  He'll have to get used to that with me as a mom as I do want to start incorporating more snow in our family winters in Los Angeles.  And this day trip was only the beginning of that tradition.  Oh well, there's always next year.

Kai, on the other hand, LOVED it:

After one of our bumpy sled rides down the mountain, Kai announced that the snow was "Cool!" and that he "wanted to move here".  Comment duly noted.

At the end of the day there was hot cocoa, rosy cheeks and great memories.

The drive back was peaceful

and before we knew it, we were back in the backyard, in our shorts and T-shirts.  Our boys were obviously in two different minds on whether snow was cool or not: Kai loving it, Ryder not so much.  Until...

... I downloaded the photos later that evening and all of a sudden realized that it wasn't the snow, or even the face plant into the snow that had been the distress factor for our little Bruiser Bruisee. 

His hand!  It was gone!  Vanished!  Disappeared in a matter of seconds.  Without anyone noticing it.  Gone.  Forever!!! 
In my attempt to keep the darn gloves on his hands, I had put the gloves on first, before putting the jacket on.  When his hand didn't fit through the sleeve opening I decided to leave it in the sleeve.  After all, that was a heck of a lot warmer than having it stick out anyways.  The little dude probably thought his hand had disappeared and was frantically trying to figure out when the heck that had happened and how, from now on, he would have to feed himself without his trusting right hand.  And that, in and by itself is reason for GREAT concern.

Nope.  I hadn't noticed it.  It hadn't occurred to me.  Not for a second.  Thank heavens for photos - not only to serve the purpose of documenting memories, but also for being the voice of a 13-month old, who is yet unable to make his frustrations understood. ("heard"- Yes.  "understood" - not always.)

Happy to Be Mom

Even if I had had the time to sit down and write over the past weeks, not much exciting would have been put on paper.  It would have been limited to stories about colds, snotty noses, coughing spells in the middle of the night, raspy voices, more snotty noses and Vicks.  That pretty much sums up the past few weeks.

Then came the other day at the playground.  It was a sunny afternoon and perfect to spend an hour after naps outside, running, climbing, chasing and sliding.  The playground is part of a recreational area, managed by the city of Los Angeles.  There are picnic tables, baseball fields, basketball courts and around a large field lies a track that is used for strolling, walking, jogging and other workout activities.

As the boys were climbing, going down slides and chasing each other, a little girl caught my attention.  She must have been approximately the same age as Kai.  She had beautiful blond curls that bounced around as she was playing in the sand.  Next to her sat a lady, who certainly wasn't her mother.  I assumed she was the nanny.  All of a sudden the girl got up out of the sand and walked over to the fence.  While holding on to the wire, she pointed and said: "Look Maria!  It's Mommy!"  I looked in the direction she was pointing and as I clocked a blond woman strolling over the track, talking to (what I assume was) her friend, the little girl called out "Hi Mommy!" and waved enthusiastically.  The blond woman didn't hear or see her.  The little girl hesitated for a moment.  Then, she hung her head and with a sad look on her face, returned to the edge of the sand box where she sat and just stared at the sand in front of her.

It is by no means my intention to start the discussion on the pros and cons of nannies, but it reminded me of a conversation I had had with a nanny at that same playground a few months ago.  She told me that she had been the nanny of this little boy for practically his entire life (he was 5 at the time).  His father was a producer, his mom didn't work.  "So," I asked.  "If his mom doesn't work, then why are you practically raising this boy?"  The answer: "because his mom goes for pedicures, wine get-togethers and spa visits with her girlfriends."  I remember at that point, my mouth just dropping open.  I was so dumbfounded that I was unable to get a word out of it.

Seeing the little girl, desperately wanting to connect with her mom and not being able to do so, broke my heart and as I am writing this, my heart goes out to her.  All she wanted, was to connect with her mom.  The person she should be connecting with.  On the playground, at home, in the park, heck, in the grocery store.  Don't get me wrong, a break once in a while from being a mom is nice.  Some pampering, hanging out with friends, I am all for it.  But when I look around at these playgrounds I see so many children with nannies / baby sitters, that I couldn't help but make certain assumptions when I saw the events of that afternoon unfold in front of my eyes.

Seeing the sadness and disappointment in this little girl's eyes, made me realize how happy I am with the life that I live.  Though I still teach part-time, I get to spend amazing quality time with my boys.

I get to go to the playground with them and push them in the swings:




I get to tuck my boys in for the naps and get to see how Kai prefers to fall asleep for naptime:



On those beautiful days that he actually takes the nap, I get to wake him up and walk in on this:



I get to experience this "view from above".  The baby, grabbing on to my legs, with no intention of letting go until hugs, kisses and more hugs have been delivered:



I get to be there when Kai discovers a new hiding place:



And finally, I get to be the one Kai comes to to show off his new footwear:



Honestly, it would bother me if I wasn't there to share those moments.  I LOVE those moments and am so incredibly grateful that those moments are MY memories of my children growing up.

Yes, there are absolutely days that I wish there was someone who was willing to take my little devils off my hands, so I could regain my sanity.  But despite the sleep deprivation, the toddler tantrums, the moments of needing to count to 10 100, I love being a mom and I love taking them to the playground, being the one whose arms they run into for hugs and kisses and to be excitedly told "I LOVE you Mommyyyyy!!"

My Shortest Post So Far

After a full day of having to listen to other people whine (and I am not just referring to my children) I am tired, beat, exhausted and more.  I may later regret it, should I actually speak my mind on today's adventures.  I am going to sit, have a cup of tea, kick back and watch American Idol and just keep my thoughts and opinions to myself.

ETA - My awesome hubby was NOT one of the participants in this "it's Whine-Day" and for that I was very grateful!!  :-)