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Showing posts from June, 2013

Guilty As Charged

Guilty as charged and inspired as hell:

The Internet and the Age of Avoidance, a TEDx talk by Kristen Howerton.

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Boredom is a Beautiful Thing

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I am waging a battle against an evil force, a force that seeks to infiltrate and destroy my happy home.  I wake up every morning, drink my coffee in a quiet house, and summon courage and perseverance to fight the good fight.  I must be strong.  I must stand my ground.  I must prevail over the darkness!

I'm talking about TV in the summertime.  *shudder*  I hate that my kids always want to watch TV, and I hate that I'm usually too weak to say no to the uninterrupted quiet time for myself.  Because I can hide from them when the TV is on, and I cannot hide from them at any other time, period.  Trust me, I've tried.

But I'm getting better at just saying no to television.  I'm hearkening back to the days when I had fewer children, more brain cells, heaps more patience, and something called a backbone, and I'm forcing the kids to find other things to do.  Or at least, I'm doing that more often than I used to, and gritting my teeth through the "I'm boreds&…

Because We Do Not Keep Carrier Pigeons

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This paper airplane just landed in my lap.  Literally.



Bearing the following note:



Nothing will stop them from being heard.

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San Francisco Love

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Early mornings are just the best way to start a day.

Especially early mornings following a late night...because the kids are too thrashed to move.  We went to a San Francisco Giants game last night and got home close to midnight, so even now, at 9am, not a creature is stirring and for me, it still feels like an early morning.  (The teenager is probably stirring.  Or rather, his thumbs are probably stirring. But he's quiet and flying under the radar, so I'm not going to mess with that.)

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Giants games:  Cold.  Loud.  Too crowded.  Sticky.  Cramped seats.  Drunk people.  Expensive food.  Expensive parking.  Lots of walking.

But STILL magic, still fun, still captivating.  The music, the hits, the runs, the kiss-cam, the entire scene: thrilling.

There were two highlights for me last night.  One was watching Romo come in and close a great game (we won!).  The other was watching my kids interact with other Giants fans.  The fans sitting around us wishing my daughter a happy birth…

Sing It, Dory

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Birthdays.

Graduations.

Goodbyes.

Career Changes.

International Travels.

Medical Challenges.

Medical Diagnoses.

More Career Changes.


My family is experiencing a tsunami of major events this June, a month that trembles, as Neruda said, "like a butterfly."There's really only one thing to do when life throws so many curve balls and momentous events at you all at once.  Dory knows:


I'm swimmin' my way to the SF Giants game tonight, with four of my short people, one of whom I can't call a short person anymore.  But will forever anyway.

For tonight, I will celebrate my new 11 year old and hope our boys deliver a win, and then I will come home, go to sleep, and start swimming again tomorrow morning.

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All I really need to know I learned from Finding Nemo.

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London is Following Us

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There are songs that follow us along the pathways of life.

Consider one morning, five and a half years ago, when The Clash got me through the mundane challenges of school-morning.

And today, that same song sees off my oldest on his first International Adventure.  London is calling, kid.  Today, you answer.


Have a wonderful time, Sam!

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Spooky

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Little T.  She loves me so. She expresses her love by sobbing, whining, hanging on me, and being generally unbearable whenever we must spend the day apart.

Today is one such day.

The tears!  The angst!  The annoyance!

She's almost 7.  I would have hoped this would be slowing down to a crawl by now, but no, it seems rather to be ramping up in intensity.

She is not, however, one to miss an opportunity.  After an hour of pleading and cajoling with me to PLEASE let her come with me today, she settled on the following:

"Then I just want to keep your wallet with me today, to remember you by."
My wallet.  Riiiiiiight.  Opportunistic little monkey.

I would be touched by her need for some momento of me, except for the realization that she just wants to bleed me dry, and if she can't do it physically, then she's just as happy to drain my bank account.

I informed her that I would be taking my wallet with me, but I offered to draw her a picture of the two of us, so she coul…

How Do You Do It?

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This is not a rhetorical question.  This is a question seeking real answers, from real people.



How do you get yourself up from the couch and motivate yourself to make and serve dinner, monitor bath times, straighten the house, prepare the entire family for tomorrow's day at the beach, referee the arguments, the endless, endless arguments, ensure that the kids do their chores, in short, do everything that needs to be done, when you're tired, demoralized, otherwise engaged in a pity party, down on everyone (especially your children), and wishing everyone would just go away?

I need something.

I need to be something.

I need to hear something.

I need to get something done.

How do you do it?  When it all needs to get done, and you are the one who needs to do it and you would rather be the one who doesn't have to do a damn thing?

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Two Sides of Parenting

Good day
Parenting: 18+ years in a front row seat, watching a person unfold her wings and learn to fly.



Bad day
Parenting: 18+ years of cringe-inducing moments.



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May your day be filled with wing-watching!

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5 Minutes Ago

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The older I get, the more I realize that life really is about holding on by your fingernails and hoping for the best.

This week, my little tiny baby boy is graduating from 8th grade.  That can't be.  He's so little!  Look!


If you want to get technical, that picture is a tad old.  But if you want to talk about something non-technical, something much more real, then that picture was taken like five minutes ago, and I can hardly breathe.  Because five minutes has gone by, and this is what he looks like now:



How did that happen?

Grammar school is behind him.  Nine years is a long time.  Nine years of brand new school years each Fall.  Nine years of fresh binders and long, sharpened pencils.  Nine years of renewed commitments -- his and mine -- to be better.  Nine years of watching a wee child grow up, perform Shakespeare, play guitar, win a State Cup soccer championship.  Nine years of listening to his outrage at an unfair world.  Nine years of being proud of his willingness to ta…