I'm leaving my boys behind and going to San Diego for the weekend. Besides that stint in the hospital when they removed my appendix, and I was drugged up and incoherent, this marks the first time I've ever left Landon overnight.

It's a bachelorette party and we'll be sunning, hiking, surfing!, drinking, and laughing for three days/two nights. And I am so excited. Excited to sleep without one ear constantly cocked, excited to lay by the pool with my eyes closed, excited to not make three meals a day, excited to have no agenda, excited for margaritas, excited to get dressed and know my clothes won't be covered in boogers a few hours later, excited to see my grown-up friends and have them all to myself!

But I also feel as though I'm leaving behind one of my appendages. It's as though only 3/4 of me is going and I'm leaving a great big chunk of myself behind. Honestly, my heart hurts when I think of not seeing that precious (white) little face for nearly 3 full days! How will I bear it?!

And he's teething right now. Molars. It really hurts. And he's going through a Mommy phase. The last few days he has literally been clinging to my skirts. What kind of mother am I to leave him when he so obviously needs me?

Or does he? He's got the most awesome father. They will play and do man things in the yard. Landon will be changed, fed, and clothed. He'll have stories read to him at bedtime and snacks shared when he is hungry. Daddy might not do things the same way as Mama would, but they'll get done, and Landon will learn adaptability in the process.

Isn't what parenthood is all about - equipping our children to be independent adults. We have 18 years to teach them to stand on their own two feet, be positive members of society, be relational, empathetic, adaptable, and God fearing.

And we have 18 years to teach ourselves to let go. A process that starts, on both ends, with baby steps.

Dancin' Shoes

I understand that it is frowned upon to live vicariously through your children; pushing them do to the things you wish you yourself had accomplished.

But, I just finished watching my first season of Dancing with the Stars, so don't be surprised if you see Landon waltzing across our living room one day soon.

Contentedness

I love it when people tell me they enjoy reading my blog. And so often, I am encouraged to hear that my friends think my life looks wonderful. "What a happy, lovely life you have," they tell me.

And I do. I am blessed beyond deserving. God is so good to me. I have a beautiful family, we have our health, my friends are amazing, I love our city, our church, etc. etc. Just look at my blog - it's full of my handsome husband and chubby baby, and a puppy to boot - pretty damn adorable if you ask me!

But one of the problems with blogs, Facebook, and Twitter is that we have a tendency to put our best self forward. It's natural to publish our cutest pictures, most exciting stories, and funniest anecdotes. However, it leads to a fictional reality where we see only the very best of each other. Which, therefore, tends towards unhealthy comparisons. And I'm flattering myself, but I would hate for anyone to read my blog and think that I have it all. (B/c I often read your blog and get a little jealous myself!)

I don't want to give the illusions that I have the perfect life, or that frolic around eating rainbow and painting daisies all day. My heart is sinful and selfish, and if I let myself, I too can get trapped in the world of "if only." A world where I want what you have rather than what I've been given.

Once I heard Beth Moore declare that women have a tendency towards discontentment. What we have is never enough. We want more. We want better. We want it now. She wasn't talking about challenging yourself for positive reward. Or striving to better ourselves. She was speaking about our tendency to be dissatisfied with the blessings in our life. To focus on the negative; and/or to buy into our culture's lie that we deserve (and should) have it all. The family, the career, the house, the adventure, the looks, the car, the clothes, etc.

I am 27 years old. I've been married for nearly six year. We are responsible for a child. We have a mortgage to pay each month. We live in suburbia. My daily life is fairly consistent. We vacation twice a year. Our dog needs to be walked daily. You get the picture. It's not a life of glamour. And I do have a tendency to be drawn towards the flashy...

It would be a lie to say that I don't occasionally feel tempted to indulge in a fantasy world. A world where I might not have gotten married, or had a child, or been middle-class. It goes something like this: If only I had pursued publishing right out of college. I could be living in NYC working at Random House reading novels for print. Wearing power suits, eating take-out and shopping at Saks. If only I had gone to law school like ____ had. I too would be making six figures and putting criminals behind bars. Living for the thrill of the courtroom. If only RJ wasn't such a play-it-safe financially kind of guy. We would be traveling the world - having once in a lifetime experiences - and not worrying about a retirement we might not even live to see.

How easy it is to go down a path of discontentment. It starts with one "if-only" fantasy. Then we begin to believe we deserve that "other" life. Yet we don't really want to give up what we already have. We want it all. Now we are dissatisfied; and discontentment is a sin. We're basically say: Dear God, the life You gave me isn't good enough - I want this life and that other one (that so-and-so is living) too.

All this to say we have a daily choice. Find joy in the life we have right now. Or indulge in a fantasy world and find nothing but discontentment. And, if people like my chronically ill friend Brittany can find joy in the hand life dealt them, then we all should be able.

When I choose to indulge my imagination with visions of the life I "could have had" (and I admit I sometimes do) I hurt both myself and my family. I find I am more negative towards my husband, snappish with my son, and generally bitter. Until the Lord graciously reminds me that I have MUCH more than I deserve. And, that He knows me more intimately than anyone. He knows the desires of my heart, the things that tempt me to sin, what makes me most joyful, and He chose this life for me.

And I am thankful.

Chickens, Kleenex and Smoke Monsters

Allergy season is upon us.

I nearly died yesterday. Butter and I went on a quick jog through the neighborhood and it practically killed me. I literally spent the rest of the day on the couch drunk on allergy medications. Praise the Lord it was a Saturday and L was able to spend most of his waking hours with his dad. Both the baby and I went to bed at 7.

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RJ roused me from my sudafed coma long enough to help him break up old concrete in the back yard. He is nearly done with the chicken coop! As a bird hater I put up a fight against purchasing fowl, but he convinced me I would never have to touch a chicken or chicken poop. My only responsibility is eating up farm fresh eggs. I can handle that.

And I have to admit, the coop is pretty amazing. Pictures coming soon.

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Tonight marks the end of LOST. I am ready. When Friends went off the air I wore all black and packed a hanky. And while I've had a fun six years with Sawyer, Kate, Jack, Hurley and the gang I am ready to see the end of them. Particularly Jack - he bugs. I will miss Sayid the most.

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Finally, I blog for Comments. I know one of the unspoken blog rules is to never fish for comments. One is supposed to love blogging for the pure essence of writing, regardless of readership. If that was really the case we would all still be using journals. So, although this post is boring, I would really love a comment!

The Mom Suit

I've succumbed.

This summer you'll find me at the beach in my one-piece swimsuit.* Last summer I was a brand new mom. With so many big life changes happening I was not yet ready to relinquish the swimsuit of my youth. I needed to cling to that small shred of my younger, hotter, more toned, tanned, self.

However, it's time to grow up. I've got a toddler now. And, as my friend Amber said, it's not like we'll be laying on our beach towel catching the rays. It's going to be a summer of beach-time chasing, running, squatting, lifting, lunging, and bending. Situations that might allow for various parts - big and little, sexy and not - to hang out all over the place. Best to keep everything tightly contained in the mom suit.

My man wasn't as convinced. But, after some cajoling he agreed to let me splurge on this number:

Something I'll feel pretty in without embarrassing my son in front of all the other children.

*For the record, I have nothing against mother's wearing two-piece suits. I actually wore one just today to Landon's swim lesson.

I never met a mud puddle I didn't like

A Day For Mother

RJ did a wonderful job making my second Mother's Day a special one. There was a special necklace designed by a talented friend, a bike ride, and breakfast at one of my favorite local spots. He even hand cleaned all the carpets while I lounged in the sunshine outside. What a guy! And I'm not even his mother - the little person whom I mother didn't seem to understand the significance of the day (see picture).

And you can see what I did to make my man this stoked over here.

This & That

I'm back. It's been a sunshine filled week; one of those that makes it difficult to stay inside and sit at the computer. But good old summer fog has arrived and it's gloomy doomy outside.

Ignore my last post. Although I have some great blogs churning around in my head. Titles such as "My Mother was Correct: Nerd Today - Hot Tomorrow" and "Doesn't It Feel Good That All The Popular Kids Are Now Fat", but they'll just have to wait. I'm not motivated. I would rather drone on about my present little life. Sorry for the teaser (I'm sure your actually breathing a sigh of relief - no more awkward teen pics).

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It was just Landon and I all weekend. Since RJ was gone we make the weekend "special". Out to Starbucks in the morning, a trip to the mall, Mom cut off L's mullet, visiting the neighbor's baby ducks, tiny tot playdates, frozen yogurt, all the good stuff.

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While at Starbucks we sat next to a trio of middle-aged women and overheard the following:

"I'm texting so often these days, ever since my daughter taught me how, that I'm thinking about getting one of those smart phones. What are they called again? Oh yeah, a Blueberry. I'm going to splurge and get myself a Blueberry."

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There is a new Vespa dealership in Thousand Oaks. Their slogan: "Don't Be A Gas-Hole."

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Butter went to her first obedience class yesterday. She is officially the most hyper puppy at PetsMart Puppy School. However, she is also the most obedient. (Go Me!)

Landon had swim school on Friday. He is officially the loudest screamer at Ventura Country Swim Lessons. (Humiliated Me!)

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I'm currently addicted to this show:

Thanks Jessica for the suggestion. I've been dreaming about skeletons I've watched so many episodes.

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That's us. How was your weekend?

JR High School

For the past couple months I've been reflecting on junior high school. Specifically 7th and 8th grades.

I'm not really sure why this time period has a hold on my thoughts. Maybe it's because I am exactly twice as old now. Or perhaps it's because I've spend most of my waking hours with a little person that can't say much more than Mama, Dada, Doggie, and BaBa - leaving me plenty of time for self reflection. And there is plenty to reflect on from those early teen years.

Regardless of the reasoning, I feel moved to write about it. And because I know I'll never write these thoughts in a diary or journal (b/c handwriting is so much more uncomfortable than typing), you're all subject to reading about them here. Sorry about that.

And just to show you how serious I am I will subject myself to world-wide humiliation.

Presenting 7th grade me:

The most embarrassing part is that I really don't look much different today!

My Mama

When I was a kid my family went on numerous car trips. Grandma and Grandpa were about three hours away, aunts and uncles an hour or two, and occasionally my Mom and Dad loved to take a rambling Sunday afternoon drive (I still don't understand this particular enjoyment).

My sister and I would be squished into the back seat of our family sedan (road trips were much more enjoyable when we finally got a mini-van and April and I were out of touching distance) with a plethora of essential entertainment: books, magazines, our diskman, pillows, snacks, barf bags, etc. Inevitably there would be fighting, and tears, and whining, and every car trip's priceless question: Are We There Yet?

Finally, lulled by the vehicles motion and the long days events we would get sleepy. I would grab my pillow, make sure my door was locked (I still have a compulsive obsession with making sure the car doors are always locked), and try to sleep against the window. Unlike my sister, I was never a good car sleeper. I would wiggle and moan and start whining once again. Rather than hushing my complaints my Mom would merely slip her hand behind her seat. She would grope around until she found me. Instantly comforted we would quietly hold each others hands until I fell into dreamland.

You know when you close your eyes and think of someone it's usual in some type of context. Whenever I close my eyes and think of my mother it's always a picture of her bending her arm around her car seat to hold me. Such a simple act, but one of my most prominent childhood memories.

Lately I've found myself doing the same with my son. Although he's too young to really understand, whenever he cries in the car I reach around behind me, find his hand and softly hold it. It's not very comfortable for me, but if it brings him just a small measure of rest than I am more than willing to pay the sacrifice. Just one of the many ways I hope to emulate my own mother.

Thanks Mom for holding my hand. I love you!

The 'Hood

I know too many of my neighbors.

RJ and I love our hood. There are so many young families with little people. Our house is centrally located on a corner lot near the park. Combine that with door always being open, people coming by the see the remodel progress the last two years, and RJ's incredibly friendly personality and we might know 70% of the neighborhood.

Growing up on a five acre parcel of land removed from the neighbors I'm used to getting naked in front of the window without a worry. We had a nice neighborhood but people mostly stuck to themselves - that's why many of them picked country living in the first place. So sometimes I forget that when I go outside I'll probably see someone I know.

Take yesterday. RJ left early to go surfing before work, so after gobbling a muffin and coffee, stuffing Landon full of toast with peanut butter and trying to (unsuccessfully) get Butter to poop outside I snapped on the puppy's leash, threw pj clothed L in the stroller and headed out the door for an early morning walk. I wasn't even out of my driveway when a cute young woman and her 3 year old daughter stopped us.

"HI!," she called. "I'm Meridith. I know your husband."

hmmmm

"I worked with him in San Luis Obispo. I've been wanting to meet you."

"Oh! What a small world." I responded. Flashing a big grin now that we've established she isn't shady and after my man. Small talk continued while I chastised myself for not changing out of my pj shirt, choosing the unwashed sweat pants and my general lack of hygiene (i.e. unbrushed teeth and hair).

A few moments later she continued on her way and we turned down the street for our walk. And although it was still before 8am we managed to run into 2 more neighbors. Neighbors that weren't satisfied with a friendly wave but wanted to stop, pet the dog, gawk at Landon's crusty boogers, and smell my coffee breath.

Returning home I promised myself to clean up a bit before heading out of the house in the future. Even for a 15 minute walk at 7:30am.

I tattooed that promise on my forearm when I finally did head to the bathroom to clean up and discovered I had a bazillion poppy seeds from my morning muffin stuck in my teeth!!

Trying to clean it up with some new hair that you can't really see.

Good Morning!

We hope your day has started off with as much fun as ours!

Star Struck

Growing up in a small town in Northern California I didn't have many opportunities to spy celebrity figures. I think the closest I got to any type of famous individual was when Jerry Rice came to the Nevada County Fair and shook a bunch of us kids hands. My Dad thought Jerry Rice was a cool guy, so although I didn't know much about him myself I was still pretty star struck.

Since moving to Southern California I've come across a handful of celebrities.* While working in Montecito there was the occasional B or C lister down at the local eatery. I remember seeing the mom from Growing Pains and Billy Baldwin. Work allowed me to meet Cheryl Ladd and visit her home (although I must admit I had no idea who she was before this project.) And thanks to our sponsorship with the Santa Barbara Film Festival there were tickets to a wide variety of star-studded events: Kate Winslet, Ryan Reynolds, Abigail Breslin, Casey Afflec, Ellen Page, James McAvoy (one of my faves!), Marion Cotillard, and lets not forget my unexpected, over-the-top reaction to Angelina Jole and Brad Pitt.

RJ's seen nearly the entire cast of Grey's Anatomy at the airport. My sister and I shared a plan with Vince Vaughn on our way home from Las Vegas. And apparently, while hiking last week with friends, we past some American Idol favorite named Elliot something-or-other.

All this to say, I've now seen a few celebs. And, while I absolutely know that they are regular people who get paid way too much money to do something that only a handful of them are actually good at, I still get star-struck each and every time. It's ridiculous. I blame my small town country roots.

Just today, while watching a show on ABC.com a ReMax commercial popped-up "starring" our soon-to-be-really-famous friend Dallas.** I nearly died of excitement. It's true I had already watched the commercial on YouTube but seeing it "live" was so exciting. I wanted to shout and jump up and down, but I didn't b/c I would have woken the baby, so I shared my enthusiasm quietly with the dog. Simple girl. Simply star-struck: ReMax commercial and all.

Have you even been star-stuck?

*I have never actually "found" a celebrity on my own. I'm actually sure I've brushed by many more but I am not observant enough to notice. They are always pointed out to me.

**Dallas' wife Meg is going to be really famous one day too. Hopefully she won't be too embarrassed to get me an autograph from Meyrl Streep when they're out lunching together.