What would Judi do?

My favorite part of Christmas is the stockings.  I love making them up and I love getting one.  This is the story of why my kids are the best in the world. The year their dad and I separated, we (obviously) didn't do Christmas stockings for each other.  I was a mess - it was a horrible holiday. The next year was better.  The hatred was gone. But he was dating someone.  I was dating someone (who grew up without this tradition).  We weren't going to do stockings for each other. My kids knew this was such an important part of my holiday - I'd never had a Christmas without one.  They knew the previous year was very tough for me.  And this year (which was really last year) was tough because their grandmother was dying during it all. You're probably wondering what this has to do with my kids being the best in the world, right?  Hold on. This year I was prepping all the stuff I had for the girls' stockings when I remembered what happened last year.  We have a rul

Karma is a bitch.  We've all heard it.  And in my experience it's pretty much true.  But there's also a nice side to karma.  Every now and again I get a reminder from the Universe to pay more attention to that kinder side. My day started out shitty.  My facebook status was  going to say something like "If I don't drop dead from a stroke, this will be a successful day."  Then I started to hear my mother's voice in my head.  When we lived in Ocean City, NJ, she was on a positive thinking kick.  She would get a thought in her head and say it over and over - I suppose much in the way I do with my girls about making a positive impact on others' lives.  Only my mom's mantra was "Thoughts are things" and "Your attitude is your life".  I HATED  hearing those phrases.  Yet, something must have sunk in.  Because about 30 years later, I'm still hearing them. I fought with my daughters this morning.  I yelled.  I felt bad and it was

Hello.  My name is Judi and I'm an addict. Addict to what?  It depends. Sometimes it's to a tv show.  Or three.  Like Dexter.  Homeland.  Real Housewives (that last one is a secret vice.  Don't judge). Sometimes it's to a book.  50 Shades had me hooked there for a while.  Usually it's something far more mundane.  Illusions - my favorite book.  I've read it at least 50 times. Sometimes it's a movie.  We won't talk about how many times I've watched Rocky Horror - but that's been over 30 years so that's not so bad. Sometimes it's a food.  When I was in second grade I loved  maraschino cherries.  I loved them so much I ate an entire jar in one sitting.  Haven't touched one since.  The site of one makes my stomach hurt. Sometimes it's people.  That is a separate post entirely. Sometimes it's a restaurant.  We used to eat at the Woodside all the time.  Now I avoid it.  It never was a great place to eat. Sometimes it&

Most folks know I am not a huge fan of Christmas.  I think I actually like the holiday.  It's just all the gift buying and wrapping and baking and being sociable stuff I don't love.  I like it all in parts.  I would just like those parts spread out over, say, a few months instead of a few weeks. M asked me the other day: Mommy, what do you want for Christmas? Um, I don't know.  I have everything I need. It's not about need.  It's about want.  What do you WANT? Huh.  I don't know.  What do I want? You want perfume.  Or jewelry.  Or pretty socks.  Not stuff you need. Those are all good ideas.  I like all of those things. Every Christmas (and Mother's Day and my birthday), it's kind of the same thing.  I need  new tiles for the kitchen floor.  I need  a new filter for the refrigerator.  I want something sparkly.  And I feel bad for wanting things.  I don't know why that is.  Maybe it's because I stress about money, the car, th

I did something I don't often get to do.  I got a make over.  This probably isn't a big deal to most folks and I didn't think it was a big deal to me.  Then I realized it was. My sister-in-law (and brother) are in town for our family holiday, Thanksmas.  It's a combination of Thanksgiving and Christmas all rolled into one.  It's normally a time for my girls to spend time with the aunt and uncle and my mom to spend some time with her son.  It's usually a rushed sort of weekend, trying to get a lot of things done in a short period of time.  My participation tends to be making sure the girls are wherever they're supposed to be and attending the family meal. This year was a little different.  My brother was taking my mom to an appointment and the girls were not yet out of school.  I got a text from my SIL that said "come play with me!".  I had paperwork and billing and cleaning and laundry and blah, blah, blah to do.  But I don't often get t

LETTER FROM A MOTHER TO A DAUGHTER: "My dear girl, the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through. If when we talk, I repeat the same thing a thousand times, don’t interrupt to say: “You said the same thing a minute ago”... Just listen, please. Try to remember the times when you were little and I would read the same story night after night until you would fall asleep. When I don’t want to take a bath, don’t be mad and don’t embarrass me. Remember when I had to run after you making excuses and trying to get you to take a shower when you were just a girl? When you see how ignorant I am when it comes to new technology, give me the time to learn and don’t look at me that way... remember, honey, I patiently taught you how to do many things like eating appropriately, getting dressed, combing your hair and dealing with life’s issues every day... the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, bu

Every Thanksgiving is kind of the same.  We think about the things for which we are thankful.  We eat just about the exact same food  every year.  Once in a while I shake things up by making green beans instead of peas but mostly it's the exact same thing.  Growing up, my brother and I would balk if there were any changes.  My mother wanted sweet potatoes.  No.  That's not okay.  My aunt would make some sort of jello mold.  There was no way in hell either of us would touch that.  (We both boycott Jello.  Always.  It's a forbidden food in our homes.)  Dinner consisted of turkey (white meat only), stuffing (preferably stove top), gravy (on potatoes only), mashed potatoes and peas.  There was also pumpkin and cranberry bread.  Oh, there was cranberry sauce - Ocean Spray in the shape of the can only.  And none of my food can touch.  Ever. I'm a little more flexible now.  If there's gravy on the stuffing, it's okay.  Salad instead of peas works.  I make banana brea

You can't go home. There's no place like home. Home isn't a place, its a feeling. Yes. All of that. Going home, to Lansdale, this past weekend was interesting. I brought my boyfriend for the first time. I don't bring people home. My home people don't visit me in Maryland. It's like there's a line at the border of PA and Delaware that doesn't get crossed. We crossed it. I'm so glad we did. I haven't been home in a few years. I've been homesick during that time - many times. I know I'm homesick when I dream about Main Street. Or McDonalds (in those dreams I am once again in 9th grade and sitting in a booth after school with my friends). Or being on the ice at Melody Brook. I don't have those dreams often but they still do come once in a while. They're like old friends to me. This is the longest period of time I haven't been home in the nearly 20 years since I left. It was strange at first. Awkward. I

Transforming my sweet (most of the time) little ones into zombies wasn't hard and it was a ton of fun. Here's how we did it. Start with liquid latex.  It's kind of as gross as it sounds.  And it smells.  But it's worth it. Paint it in layers on in the areas you want to have a wound.  Dry it on a cool setting with a hair dryer. Then using tweezers, pull it up and rip a hole in it.  This is the wound. Using "blood" paint, make the wounds.  Paint the inside of the hole and add globs in there.  Clots look good. Using white theatrical paint and a make up sponge, pale out your subject.  Then add dark eye shadow around the eyes and on the cheek bones to hollow out the cheeks. For lips, you can use an eyeliner pencil, lipstick or leave them alone.  My kids didn't love the first two choices so we left them alone. Voila.  You have creepy.

I am not a patient person.  I don't like to wait.  I don't wait in lines at attractions (except Disney World/Land which is a given).  Patience is that ever elusive virtue in my life. I'm waiting for the end of the world to hit.  Sitting here on the couch with my daughters (watching scary movies) waiting and waiting.  And waiting.  Do we eat the food before it goes bad?  Watch tv?  Start a movie that might die in the middle? I am not good at this. The biggest mistake was watching the news.  Thankfully we did that only briefly.  Just long enough to see NJ drowning and NY about to be sucked up into the sky.  Okay, maybe not really but it feels that way.  The majority of my friends and family are right along Sandy's path.  My friends are without power (as we are preparing for as well) and have flooded basements - all along the east coast.  We're just waiting to see what happens here. I am looking forward to Thursday.  Everything should be done by then.  Maybe scho

This was the most interesting day of all!  Zombie day! We woke a little late, which is unusual.  Chocolate chip pancakes are a good start to the day. A quick run to the bank and a few errands keep us busy until it's time to start zombifing. Mike (ex husband) came over full made up and with the girls bloodied clothes.  That was weird.  Then, using liquid latex, he gave them wounds.  I added make up and in a pretty short time, they were full on creepy. Mike helped me with my scars.  It felt weird.  It was wet when it went on but as it dried it felt like egg on my skin.  Odd feeling.  Then he made the scarring.  Even weirder.  Painting on the blood was cool.  Adding the make up was fun.  I like that part. My boyfriend and another friend joined us.  Amanda did her own make up (she passed on the latex goo stuff).  Andrew let me give him a few scars.  Mike painted him in blood.  It's like a modern day Brady Bunch, only Adams family style.  Very odd indeed. The girls and

Thank God it's Friday.  Yeah, not original but true. You know the breakfast routine now.  The girls got to school on time.  I got to work early so I could eat breakfast there.  I like their breakfast better than my own.  It would've helped for me to look at my schedule first.  I was on the wrong side of the complex and had a technical meeting at 9 am.  Who schedules things like this on a Friday morning?  Clearly not someone who asked my opinion. I was not on my A game for this job.  Lucky for me my client wasn't on his A game for staying away.  It all works out nicely. It was a packed day.  Here's the summary: Leave work. Stop home to change. Take care to the shop for the endless list of things that need to get done. Pray the bill is under $400.  It was (barely). Lunch at Max's - best schwarma and falafel in town.  The 20 mins in line proved I am not alone in this thinking. Waiting for parts for my car - enough time to run to the grocery an

Thursday was a yo-yo day.  Certainly some ups.  And some downs.  And a little bit of everything in between. Again, it was an uneventful morning.  No phone waking me at 2:05 am but an alarm ringing in my early shortly after 6.  I decided to set it a little early so I could cook something for the girls' lunches.  Turkey pesto paninis.  Coffee and paninis done by 6:30am.  Not bad. I drove the girls to school.  I hate the school bus.  They hate the school bus.  I would never let my kids ride in a car without seat belts but here I put them on this bus that doesn't have enough seats for the all the kids so they're not only without seat belts but also without seats.  So when possible, I drive them. Lucky for me, my work didn't start until 10.  That means I get a real breakfast!  Pumpkin pancakes.  Trader Joe's pumpkin pancakes are this family's weakness.  I like getting them all to myself once in a while. Work was uneventful, which was welcome.  I've spent

Wednesday is Zombie day. Not the I-didn't-get-enough-sleep-so-I'm-walking-around-like-a-zombie kind of zombie day.  I'll explain in a bit. Our morning routine is pretty standard.  If all is well, nothing changes.  This is exactly what I want. Today was a decent enough morning.  A new cereal made the girls happy.  Coffee makes mom happy.  All is right with the world. I was able to prove to myself today that I can, indeed, behave like a grown up when needed.  I had a job that made me nervous this morning.  I knew I'd be tired after the Alanis show but I had to voice a presentation for a client I really don't want to disappoint and would be broadcast on through a webinar.  So, yeah, I was nervous.  I ended up rocking the voicing part.  At the end of that part of the presentation, the other interpreter (who was sitting next to me) took over the signing part.  Then there was a smell.  Not a pretty smell.   Oh my god.  Did that interpreter just fart right next to me

You might be wondering, what is this "A week in my life" stuff?  Alissa over at  http://www.clevercompass.com  is participating in Adventuroo's  "A week in the life" series.  So, because I like just about everything Alissa does, I'm doing it, too.  She's like my blogging mentor.  Or I'm like a puppy.  Take your pick. Tuesday was at least a semi-interesting day.  It started at the butt crack of dawn for me.  Yes, that's right.  My evil phone decided once again to start waking me at 2:05 like it's been doing for DAYS.  I NEED SLEEP.  My phone is possessed.  After turning it off (which I'm not supposed to do because I'm on call but seriously folks, I NEED SLEEP), I did indeed fall back asleep until the alarm started to torture me at 6:30 am.  Even though I don't need to be up that early most mornings for work, I do the weeks my girls are with me.  Middle school starts way too early for me. Thankfully the new rule of getting cloth

Monday is never a day I look forward to.  At least not most of the time.  Today wasn't a stellar day. My day started at 2:05 am.  That's when my phone started rebooting and yelling DROID at me.  That continued every 5 minutes until 3 when I just couldn't take any more.  I don't care if I'm on call.   I need sleep!   So off went the phone. Then the alarm started to taunt me at 6:30.  It took a while for me to realize I was not dreaming this.  It was really time to wake up.  Waking the girls up is always fun (not). Pumpkin pancakes made.  Coffee made.  We're ready to go to school.  Then work.  Starting out in Silver Spring, ending up in Gaithersburg.  Driving back to Silver Spring.....it's a lot of time on the road. On Sunday we designated Monday night an early-to-bed night.  A last minute change of dinner menu because M has a Very Loose Tooth.  Afraid it will come out mid-bite, she asked for soup.  Easy enough.  So it's dinner and a tv show or t

I have lived my life being the wrong age.  At every age, I'm the wrong age. It started when I was young.  My mother told me I was born at the wrong time.  I loved everything about the 1920s and 1930s,  I was born to be a flapper girl.  But I was about 60 years late. I was crimping my hair and dying it purple before it was popular to do.  I liked the way it looked but I got a lot of shit for it from the other kids in school.  Then a year or two later they were doing it.  I was ahead of my time. I was the last of my friends to get married.  By many years.  But I think I was the smart one.  While it wasn't perfect and didn't last for forever as planned, I was still smarter for waiting.  I was an older bride. When my kids went to preschool, I was closer in age to the grandparents than the parents of the other kids.  I hated that.  HATED THAT.  Now it's pretty much evened out as far as the ages of my kids' friends' parents.  I didn't feel old enough to be

I hear a lot of comments about how my kids look like me.  My friends say they are  a lot like me - which is, in many ways, true.  They are outspoken and opinionated and (in my humble opinion) funny as hell.  I like those common traits (I crack myself up so that's why I think it's a common trait).  There are others that give me concern. I'm a nervous person by nature.  I've had anxiety issues for as long as I can remember.  I always assumed it was because of growing up with a parent who died - it made sense to me.  But now I have a kid with anxiety issues.  I see the look on her face and I know the feeling in her tummy.  She recognizes it in me, too.  When my anxiety levels rise, no matter how hard I try to conceal it, she comes over to put her hand on mine, a move that always relaxes me.  She takes care of me as much as I take care of her.  The other kid is aware of all of this, too, but she doesn't have the same anxieties.  She has a confidence I envy.  The anxio

I am the self proclaimed Queen of Procrastination.  This is my most honed skill.  It's amazing what I can get done when I don't want to do something. When I don't feel like invoicing or billing or running payroll, I have super clean toilets.  When I don't feel like paying bills, my kitchen sparkles.  When I don't feel like doing laundry, the girls and I spent a lot of time at the park, Brookside Gardens or anywhere else.  It's amazing the things I can find to do when I'm avoiding doing something that needs to be done. But at some point there comes a time when I need to be an adult.  I need to do the things I don't want to do.  If I wait long enough, that time will eventually come. Until that happens, I will continue to scrub bathrooms, do dishes, go for walks and watch endless hours of Dexter and The Walking Dead in an effort to distract me from what I need to do.  So now I will turn off the tv and turn off the computer and make my way to bed.  The

My mother always told me there's a fine line between love and hate.  There's also a fine line between hate and ignorance.  There's a fine line between lots of things. This point was driven home to me recently.  One of my daughters said that an educator at school had used the term "retarded" to speak about someone who did something stupid.  My daughter immediately corrected him.  "That's not an appropriate word to use!" He immediately apologized and thanked her for correcting him.  She came home and told me about it.  I was proud of her for many reasons.  I was proud that she felt comfortable enough to correct a teacher and that she knew to do it.  I was sad because it knocked him off the pedestal on which she had him placed.  I was surprised that someone in that profession would use that term. While observing at school today, I decided to talk to this instructor about his choice in vocabulary.  It was an interesting discussion.  He explained why

So often in my life, I want proof of things.  I'm not good at going on faith, though I have been known to try that once in a while as well.  Proof is preferred. I try different parenting strategies with my girls from time to time.  When I need to make a change in my life (generally some sort of kick of my own ass), I usually share this thought with my girls and there are discussions and attempts at fulfilling whatever goal I have set forth.  Some are more successful than others.  Tonight I got proof that my determination to think in a more positive manner is working. The girls had been separated all week thanks to different schedules for outdoor education classes.  This worked well for us - they missed each other.  After a bit of time together, A starts complaining about someone.  She didn't like something this other child did and felt the needs to share that in a pretty bitchy way. This is where my proof appeared. M said " I don't hear anything positive in wha

When my kids are grumpy, I call them Grumble Bunnies.  I have become a Grumble Bunny. I am full on bitchy.  No, that's not right.  I'm sad.  No, that's not it.  It's a combo.  Bad.  Get it?  Bitchy + Sad = Bad.  At least I make myself laugh. Why am I Bad?  Here, let me list it for you. I have not had a good parenting week.  And what makes it worse is I've only had one kid (they changed in the middle) and they're staying with their dad!  That just sucks. I do not feel like being a good daughter.  But I have to.  There is no one else. Business is booming.  This is fabulous.  But it makes me work until the wee hours of the morning on a regular basis.  I am overwhelmed. I am still  in physical therapy, which hurts, for an accident that wasn't my fault.  This annoys me greatly. I feel like an alien around those who should know me best.  I don't understand how this is true. Now, none of this is completely horrible.  The fact is, it's been a

I had an interesting conversation with someone I work with the other day.  We were talking about the house he lives in (a super nice one in a nice neighborhood).  I said I didn't want to live where I live any more.  I also said I didn't want to be age 80 and still interpreting.  I told him of a few other things I didn't want to be doing.  He stopped me, explained some neuro-linguistic theory and asked me to re-phrase.   What do you mean? "Rephrase in the positive".  Rephrase in the positive ..... I had to think about that a bit.  "Think about what you're saying - is it positive or negative?" Oh!  I get it! That led to an interesting discussion with my girls.  One of our daily topics of conversation is " what did you do today to make a positive difference to someone? "  This fits with that.  It's made me think of how I speak.  "I don't want...." is getting replaced with "I would like to have" or "I will w

I am lucky for a number of reasons.  On this 11th anniversary of 9/11, I'm reminded of just how lucky I am.  I was thinking of this as I was writing my facebook status.  What a difference between my life and my children's lives. Why I am lucky/grateful/thankful: 1.  I wasn't in the Pentagon on that day.  I worked over there enough over the years but was still on maternity leave.  My friends weren't there, either.  Very lucky indeed. 2.  I remember a pre-9/11 life.  I remember being able to take my mom to NIH when she visited, walking around without a security check.  I remember being able to go into the Smithsonian museums and the Post Office Pavilion without walking through metal detectors.  I remember being able to drive past the White House.  And, the one that really bothers me, I remember driving without the Report Suspicious Activity signs above the beltway. 3.  I know a lot of people who had family and/or friends die on 9/11.  I am not one of them. 4.  I

It's Friday - and as the saying goes, Thank God!  It's been a long week which is silly because it was a short week.  We've now been back to school for two weeks.  Two. Very. Long. Weeks.  There's a lot I liked.  There are some things I don't.  Maybe today I'll do a twofer.  I'll do 5 things I like and 5 things I don't like.  Wow, that's ambitious of me - before 8 am on a Friday! Things I Don't Like: 1.  The 7:05 school bus that arrives early, takes my kids to a different school and makes them transfer buses.  Whatever happened to the bus that picked up at a normal hour and drove them directly to school?  Oh yeah, we're magnet school kids.....sucks to be us. 2.  The size of text books.  This is a big difference from last year.  I will be grateful is my kids don't look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame when they graduate. 3.  Physical Education.  They have it 3 days a week - but only for three semesters.  That doesn't make much s

I had an argument the other day with M.  "You don't understand what it's like to have to share everything!" she yelled at me.  She's right.  I don't.  "We're the only ones in our class who haven't been to Paris!"  Well, that's tough for you, isn't it?  Since when does an 11 year old have a right to expect things like a trip to Paris, an iPad or any other electronic or a big ass house?  I left that conversation mad at her and mad at me.  Clearly, I am failing in this area as a parent.  Overall, I think I do a good job.  But this kid does not understand how to be GRATEFUL for what she has.  i don't get it. My friends tell me this is just the beginning of puberty hitting.  After getting so freaking mad at her, she has changed her tune a bit.  She doesn't like me mad, that's for sure.  I am pretty open with my kids about things - I can't buy what I want when I want because I have to be responsible and make sure things l

The last post was about inventions that are helpful.  There's a lot of stuff out there meant  to be helpful but aren't. 1.  The snooze button on my alarm clock.  The snooze button itself is probably a good idea.  The fact that it's located just next to another button is the problem.  One little slip at 5:30am in my sleep coma and the alarm doesn't ring again.  This is a problem. 2.  Voice command on my phone.  This is supposed to allow me to text without hands.  Maybe it works for some folks but my phone has a sense of humor.  I was texting a friend one day to tell him about my day.  What I said was "I'm having a good day.  I have a good client and a good team."  My phone sent him "I'm putting my penis in my client."  Not even close. 3.  GPS.  I know the roads (here) better than my GPS.  And she yells at me.  I get yelled at enough from humans.  I don't need this crap from my electronics. 4.  Travel mugs.  They work in the

So I missed last Friday.  It happens.  We're going to play Friday 5 on a Tuesday, just to mix things up a bit. I was thinking about things that make my life easier.  There are so many things, little things thought of by people who are creative, that help my life.  Here are a few. 1.  The re-usable K cup.  When my kids (and their dad) got me a Keurig for Mother's Day, I was less than thrilled.  I live within a budget and coffee for that thing wasn't going to fit in it.  Plus it's just more stuff in landfills.  The re-usable K cup solves all those problems.  Brilliant. 2. The automatic ice maker.  One of the big arguments in my house growing up was "who left the ice tray with just one cube in it??".  That and who only fills up the little cubes half way making for little ice cubes - makes me nuts.  I don't have to think about that any more. 3.  Texting.  I don't actually like talking to people.  Texting allows me to communicate without having to h

When bad weather happens, people (here) worry about milk, bread and toilet paper.  I think about shaving my legs.  I make sure my legs are shaved when it snows or there is bad weather.  I need to remember to do this on days when I have car accidents. I was rear-ended a few days ago.  Nothing too serious, mostly just annoying.  I went the next day to get checked and realized I didn't want to go because A) I hate hospitals and B) my legs weren't shaved.  I know the doctors don't give a shit about my legs.  My boyfriend doesn't care when my legs aren't shaved.  No one cares.  Except me. Last year my appendix decided it wanted to escape my body.  I waited a bit too long to go to the hospital.  Why?  A) I hate hospitals and B) my legs weren't shaved.  But I was able to rest assured that I was going to surgery with shaved legs.  Because the surgeon and anesthesiologist and nurses would care. No, they wouldn't. At the end of my pregnancy, I had a few problems

I'm familiar with the concept of sibling rivalry.  That makes sense to me.  But this sibling insanity - what I call the constant fighting, bickering, bitchiness aimed at each other ALL. DAY. LONG. - is insane.  Why do they do this?  I have one sibling, a brother, who is 10 years older than me.  We fought (still do) but not like this.  Granted, one good punch and he would've knocked me out but still. We didn't do this so it's foreign to me.  I now understand why a mother I met long ago said Jagermeister was her best friend and started drinking it shortly before dinner every night.  But it's not constant snottiness, which is where I get confused.  Sometimes they're as sweet as can be to each other.   Do you want a glass of milk?  I'll get it for you.   Then about 30 seconds later, bam!  The bitchiness starts again. Everyone but me had siblings close in age.  Did your parents beat some sense into you?  Did they all become alcoholics?  What's the cure for

My children are odd.  But I'm used to it so they don't seem so odd to me any more.  There are a few instances of peculiar behavior that will forever stay in my head.  The sari years experience is one of them. A was sure she was Indian.  She wanted to wear saris and bindi and all sorts of bling.  This started somewhere around the age of 3 or 4.  There were tears when I forbade her to wear saris to preschool.  Mind you, I played along enough to have quite a collection of saris.  At Halloween she wanted to be an Indian princess.  Actually she was an ice skating Indian princess.  Yes, she wore a sari on skates (not easy, in case you were wondering).  Santa put bindi in her stocking.  We accepted this part of her. Then one day we were walking into Giant (grocery) when she announced "I hope today is the day I meet my birth mom".  Huh.   Um, I reminded her, you're a twin.  I'm your mom and M's mom.   "No, you're M's mom but my mom wears a sari.&q

Much of the last two years have been spent in hospitals.  Thankfully, only one time was for me (plus one additional er visit).  I realized last night, while sitting in Suburban Hospital's ER, that I recognize the people who work there.  One was there when my appendix blew up.  One was there when my mother-in-law was taken there.  Another was there when I was interpreting.  It's strange.  I was interpreting there last year on the 6th floor when a nurse stopped talking to the patient, looked at me and said "I recognize you.  You've been here before."   Yes , I said, I have.  Continue talking, please.  She continues on for a while and when we left the room she said "You have twin girls.  You were here quite a bit with a family member."  It had been a year after we spent a very long month getting Ruth treatment there yet she remembered me.  I was both impressed and saddened.  So much of our time was there that she remembered us (thankfully fondly). So, le

I have mixed feelings about summer camp.  I didn't go when I was young.  First, I hate to camp (as in be outside with the bugs and toilets that are not guaranteed to flush).  Second, I'm not a good team player.  And I don't think my mom needed to put me in camp.  I lived much of her working life in a townhouse community.  I just lived at the pool.  My kids, however, need to be in camp.  They can't stay home alone all day.  It's not fun and it's a guaranteed thing they'll find trouble.  So off to camp they go. Camps have been tough for us.  We did the drop-in sort of camp for a few years.  That worked great for my schedule but the girls didn't love it.  Sports camp was met with enthusiasm, but briefly.  This year we did a few different things.  We sent them to sailing camp in Sodus Point, NY (they stayed with family).  That was awesome.  And they went to Camp Ahava here in Silver Spring before and after the NY experience.  They love it there.  It's

My mother told me not long ago that I am raising rabble-rousers.  I don't fully disagree but I might have  labeled my style of parenting differently.  But, the fact is, I am raising kids with the motto "Silence Equals Agreement".  I am rarely silent and am teaching them to (politely) speak their mind when they see an injustice. Today's event was not really an injustice.  It was an annoyance.  It was stupid.  But we silently stated our protest anyway.  Just to make a point. We were at the fountain in Silver Spring.  We walked around the farmer's market, strolled past the crafts/small business market and made our way to the fountain to cool off.  Yes, we were dressed in our regular clothes.  If we get wet, that's our problem, right?  Apparently not.  The security guards came over to tell us we couldn't be in the fountain.  The reason?  We were not in bathing suits.  There was a lot of chlorine in the water and it would make our clothes smell.  That was t

I do some things very well.  I laugh a lot.  I get into enough trouble to keep me happy.  I'm competent at my job (most days).  I'm a good enough mom and a good enough girlfriend. There are some things I don't do so well.  Or rather I don't want to do so well.  I'd like to outsource those things.  In other words, I need an Alice, Mrs. Livingston, Mr. French or whoever the current sitcom maid/housekeeper is.  I'd be a good client.  Okay, I'd be a challenge.  But the laughter would be worth it....maybe. 1.  I would (at least temporarily) outsource cooking.  I'm highly mediocre at it.  My boyfriend is polite and eats it.  My kids tolerate it.  Some days are better than others.  Breakfast (pancakes with chocolate chips and oats - surprisingly good!) is okay.  Dinner last night gave us all serious gas.  There's got to be a better way. 2.  If I never did laundry again, I'd be a happy girl.  The problem with this is I'm picky.  I co

It's amazing what a huge impact paper has on my home.  It's everywhere. I am a big recycler.  If it can be recycled, it is.  Yet, I think what doesn't get recycled reproduces.  There's no other explanation for the amount of paper that is in every room of this house.  Oh, yeah, there is.  I suck at filing and the school district feels the need to inundate every home with as much paper as possible.  When a family has more than one kid, that's a hell of a lot of paper. So, what's a girl to do about this?  Fill the recycling bins, of course.  The things that seemed sentimental at the beginning of the school year are much less so now.  Even my kids can look at something and say trash it.  That's new. In my next life, the schools won't use so much paper.  The mail service will stop bringing me junk I don't want.  And I'd be just as happy if they stopped bringing me bills.  Really, I'd be happy if the mail carrier would just skip my house. Wh

There is never a day when I have nothing to do.  There's always laundry, cleaning, billing, payroll - something to do!  This morning I laid in bed thinking about what I'd do if I had nothing to do.  Since that never happens, it was hard to come up with 5 things.  But here's what I came up with: 1.  Read.  I'd read my mindless magazines.  I'd read my trashy books.  I'd read all the stuff I don't normally have time to read.  Maybe even the newspaper - including the crossword! 2.  I'd catch up on the few tv shows I like.  I do this sometimes while I'm cleaning or working but this time I'd actually get to watch  the tv, not just listen to it. 3.  I'd catch up on emails.  All 27 gazillion that I owe people. 4.  I would sleep.  I might wake up for a while but then I'd sleep again.  And then again. 5.  If I ventured out of the house, I would go to Brookside Gardens or the National Botanical Gardens at the Capitol.  There is nothing bet

My mom used to tell me that when people died, sometimes you could still feel their presence in certain places like their houses or offices.  I didn't really understand that.  Until now. I'm sitting at the table at The Cottage.  The Cottage was built by my mother in law's father way back when.  It's a small structure - really, a cottage.  It sits on Lake Ontario which is a BIG lake - more like a pretty calm ocean (until a storm hits). I came up here regularly early in my marriage.  It didn't hold many good memories for me.  My MIL and I didn't enjoy each other's company here much.  My FIL and I did, though.  He understood me better than anyone.  But when he was gone (mentally, he had Alzheimer's), there was no one left.  Or so I thought. The first time I came here, Uncle John would eat off my plate if he thought I wasn't going to finish something.  The man was in perfect condition - I didn't get it.  He could eat everything, clean his plates