Girl Scout Cookies!

Yesterday Natalie and I joined Daisy Scout Troop 3105 to sell Girl Scout cookies outside Wal-Mart.

By the appointed time, I had dismissed scores of excuses for not showing up and decided to just suck it up and Be The Mother. So my shy little girl and I set up shop with Natalie's friend Kalei and her lovely mom Pam.

Kalei and Natalie are perfect for each other. Quiet, sweet, unassuming. And terrible saleswomen.

Neither of them dared to make eye contact with anyone who approached our table, despite Pam and me urging the girls to at least look up, or say thank you.

Enter Christine, their fellow Daisy. Christine is not shy. She came to our table near the Garden Center from her post at the main entrance, where she had been pulling in one sale after another.

She showed the quiet girls how it was done. She even let them hold her handmade Girl Scout Cookies sign, on the corner of which she had printed: "Don't touch my poster."

After a little peer mentoring, Natalie began to come out of her shell.

After an hour, her shell was nowhere to be found.

Good help

Good help is so hard to find these days.

That is why I employ little girls in princess dresses who aspire to be Cinderella.

Here is my helper. San Diegans may recognize the orange towel. It came home from the Y in the Mister's gym bag (whoops).

Actually, I don't pay her at all. This is Natalie at play.

"Mama, can I clean the floor?"

"Hmmm. Well. All right. If you promise to eat all your dinner tonight."

Look at that shine!

She can eat hard food now

The top front tooth that Natalie's been babying for weeks finally came out tonight. Which is really terrific because it's felt like having an old person living with us. Soft food only!

This tooth has tormented her! No apples, having to bite a PB&J with her canine and first premolar. Can you imagine her relief?

She suggested Tony and I go to bed early tonight, so we don't scare away the Tooth Fairy.

She looks like a real kid now. Not so much my baby anymore.

I'm back!

I'm baaaaack!

And it's all thanks to my two faithful readers, Thyme and Kristine, who were standing out there in the dark, holding their lighters up for me. Let me tell you, when I get complaints from 20 percent of my readership, I take it seriously.

So, the last two months, in a nutshell:

1. The new job continues to be awesome and sometimes exhausting. Some days I am literally (I hate it when people say "literally," but I want to be clear I'm not exaggerating) running from one meeting to another. But it's exhilarating and amazing to feel such purpose in my work again. Someone I admire recently told me: "This is going to be the best job you'll ever have."

2. Natalie is loving ballet (see photo above) and she has signed up for tap, following in her mother's footsteps. We plan to take a Mommy & Me tap class this summer. Between tap and Natalie and I joining Daisies (little Girl Scouts), I'm in mother heaven.

3. We went to Wisconsin for Thanksgiving. It was very cold!

4. I went skiing with my dad in Aspen - my first time on skis in 15 years!

And first time on shaped skis. We had a great time. Saw a bald eagle from the chair lift! I actually missed Natalie's ballet recital because I was on a plane to Aspen. Terrible!

5. We might get a puppy. A chocolate Labradoodle. Oh they are sooo cute! We drove up to Norco last night to see them and fell for two - a boy and a girl. Now I am tormented between them. Tony says either one will be a great dog and I won't regret whatever we choose. He is always so reasonable about these things.

The boy:

The girl:

6. Natalie is getting funnier and funnier.

The other day she asked when she'd have lunch with the principal again. Lunch With the Principal is an honor at school for kids who are doing well in class.

"I think that was just a one time deal, honey," I said.
"Oh."

"Though I don't know for sure. Do kids get to go back?"

"Yeah, if they left something in there."

I called the Mister right after to tell him.

There was another funny one. Recently at school, Natalie pointed out a kid to Tony.

"That's Ronnie. 'Cept his nickname is Ronald."

7. My 38th birthday is next Saturday. I feel good about it mostly because I have a wonderful job and family. Last year I had a classic birthday of self-loathing where I said to myself: I'm 37 years old and what am I &%$##@! doing with my life?? I would feel better about it if I didn't have all these gray hairs, which I suddenly see because I had the great idea to grow out my highlights. Guess who's getting highlights again?!

8. I have a new nickname here at Mill Peak Road. Big Mama. And we live at Big Mama's House. Natalie and Tony both think it's hilarious.

That's all for now. I will try to post more regularly, Thyme and Kristine. Or I will just see you at the next Kevin Faulconer event!

Halloween

We had a nice Halloween this year, beginning with a rainy trip to the pumpkin patch and carving these two beauties, which we named Pumpkinseed and Steve.

Sadly, Pumpkinseed and Steve only lasted a few days before their teeth curled in and they started to stink up the house.

Natalie, shocking everyone, veered from tradition and eschewed her Cinderella dress (worn the last two years), opting instead for Tinker Bell. Here she is dressed for the parade at school.

On Saturday night, Tony and I dressed as our favorite TV couple from our favorite TV show, "Friday Night Lights." Coach and Tami Taylor set a much better marital example than our choice last year: the totally dysfunctional, but extremely stylish, Don and Betty Draper from "Mad Men."

Here's Coach in his East Dillon Lions gear. He even got Croakies for his shades. Authentic!

And here's Tami. Wish my hair was longer, but I think I captured her Texas spirit. That silver and turqoise belt belonged to my grandmother. The boots were an impulse purchase that I justified by telling myself I would have them for life and they were the same brand worn by Teddy Roosevelt.

After we snapped this photo, we went next door to our neighbors' house. Dwayne and Manya and their friends spent the entire day dressing up the house with spiders and centipedes and cobwebs. It was the best Halloween house I'd ever seen. Oh! And someone brought a cake in a kitty litter box, with a scooper for serving and Tootsie Rolls on top. Gross, but tasty!

I think we might keep up the TV couple theme for next year. I was thinking Archie and Edith Bunker, but Tony had a better idea: Lucy and Ricky Ricardo! I'm going to start looking now for a red wig...

Happy Halloween!

He just keeps on livin'

Over the weekend we had house guests: Merlin and Kitty.

They live with Natalie's dad. Natalie and Matt went to the Bay Area for the weekend to see his parents in Bodega Bay and also join the 5th annual reunion of families with whom we traveled to China to meet our daughters.

Poor Merlin is winding down.
He is a dog's dog. A regal animal. The benevolent alpha male who defends Natalie and me, and graciously allows children to pull on his ears and tail. On walks with Lizzy, who is a quarter his size, Merlin walks out in front, his leash taught. Lizzy walks off leash, but keeps a respectful distance behind Merlin. She knows he is the leader, and our protector.

The Merleman has bone cancer, and Matt was told back in January that Merlin didn't have long to live. His face is totally gray now and a man we passed on a walk last night called him Grandpa.

Matt and I found Merlin in the newspaper 12 years ago. We brought him home and tried not to panic as we realized we now shared a one-bedroom, second-floor apartment with an 85-pound dog. Now he is 13, and spends much of his time during the warm months in an Elizabethan collar because his skin allergies make him so itchy he bites himself until he's bleeding.
When I take off the collar, which we call the cone, Merlin is very happy.

Let me tell you, the visit was exhausting. I am tired. Tie-urd.

I felt like I had a newborn. Except I never had a newborn. But I did have an extremely sick baby and sometimes wondered if, when I went to her crib, she'd still be alive.

The other morning - after sleeping in the guest room with Merlin, who rose to pace and pant and bark at nighttime noises every two hours - I went to make coffee. When I returned, he was in the same position, like a dead deer on the side of the road.

"Merlie?" I said.

He was still.

"Merlie!"

Nothing.

I bent down and stroked his big shoulder, running my hand along his flank, now bumpy with tumors. And he raised his head and smiled at me as dogs do. Moments later he was in the yard chasing birds, as I mixed medicine and turkey meatballs into his kibble.

After he ate he rolled around on the rug, happy with a full belly and free from the cone.

One of the best things about Merlin is that he follows me everywhere. Back when he was a pup I put him on a leash and tied it to my waist. So wherever I'd go, he'd have to follow. It was a great way to keep an eye on him and teach him to stay with me.

So for all these days of his visit, I had a constant companion who waited patiently for me while I dressed, while I cooked, while I read. Which is a nice treat because Lizzy, despite my giving her affection and treats and long walks, really just gives me the High Hat in return. She is Tony's dog, through and through. But we were both able to fake it for that fireworks video.

By the way, Kitty spent the whole time either in a corner of Natalie's room, or under the guest room bed. She once was very sweet. She used to crawl up the screen door and cuddle and play. But now all she does is hiss. So rude!
Smokey, as usual, was a good sport. He likes his big brother Merlin. Likes to sniff his tail, too.
Last night Matt picked up Merlin and Kitty and I was really sad. I worry that's the last time he'll be at our house. But then, I thought that in the springtime. But the old guy just keeps on livin'.

Hot cheese

Natalie celebrating her shared birthday with my Dad

We have been discussing differences of late.

Last night Natalie dug into a bowl of leftover macaroni and cheese, and I sat with a glass of wine, watching her. Natalie calls mac 'n' cheese "hot cheese." It's her favorite dish.

She swallowed a bite and looked up.

"Fahd does not eat pork," she said of her classmate. I nodded.

"Fahd is from ... near China."

She looked at me expectantly, as she does when she comes to an unfamiliar word while reading aloud.

"Afghanistan?" I offered.

"Yeah, there." She took another bite, chewed.

"Some people eat pork. Some people not eat pork."

This reminded me a conversation we had last week, after a boy asked why I was white and she was brown. ("Some people dark, some people brown, some people light. Everybody different," she said.)

Natalie was quiet for a moment as she chewed, and then added:

"I eat hot cheese."

Something new

The other day on the way to my spin class I passed a room of little girls in pink leotards, tights and ballet slippers, following their teacher, also in pink, around the room.

And I thought: I must enroll Natalie!

And then: Maybe there's a ballet class for me! I took ballet as a child, and then later as an adult. But now? I realized that would be too Zelda Fitzgerald.

So I kept walking.

Still, I'm thinking it'd be so nice to take a new class. Photography? History? Writing?

Once I took a short story writing class and I wrote an awful story about a young, distracted wife of a deployed soldier who mows down a homeless man collecting cans on her street. It was my first and last foray into fiction. Yet it wasn't all for naught. I met my amazing friends Betsy and Jean in that class.

The thing is, I need new.

I'm reading Gretchen Rubin's "The Happiness Project," and she says that people are happiest when they are learning something new. How true!

So I'm on the hunt. And you, my 11 readers? Any classes you've taken that you really liked?

What matters

I haven't been writing much here because all of my creative energy has been devoted to perfecting my resume, a cover letter and answering online questionnaires about my experience and qualifications. And then there have been two interviews. One with three people. The other was a seven-person panel (I felt like Sonia Sotomayor!). Tomorrow I have another interview, and on Wednesday, my fourth.

I think I've gotten pretty good at promoting myself without sounding like an arrogant jerk or Stuart Smalley (I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggonit people like me!).

None of these leads has come from Monster.com, or cocktail party networking. All of this job hunting has been within my own office. A massive reorganization is underway, and we were told: Apply for everything!

So for weeks there have been closed doors, and scheming, and jockeying, and so much constant whispering it's like the jungle in Lost. We're now in the fourth week of interviews.

It's hard not to get totally wrapped up in the drama. But on Sunday I was able to pull away. And I realized some things.

1. Work, while important to me, doesn't have to define me.

2. We might want to get a bigger pool.

The girly girl toughens up

Natalie is a girly girl. She wears a dress everyday, often with sparkle shoes, and she sings princess songs to herself while twirling around to make her skirt fly out.

I may have contributed to this by painting her toes, buying all those dresses and generally being quite a girly girl myself. Yet I will unhesitatingly grab for a lizard in the backyard. Natalie recoils.

I wasn't always girly. As a child I was short-haired and scabby, got into fights and spent a lot of time outside in my snowfort, or in the tree in front of our second floor duplex, watching my mother watch television inside. One day on the stairs at school, a passing girl asked: "Are you a boy or a girl?"

But a few years later the boobs came, and with them the boys, and that was the end of that.

Because I think Natalie is so girly and because she doesn't get much exercise at school and because I worry she suffers from Nature-Deficit Disorder, I have decided to act.

Last Sunday was the day. We'd join our friend Donna on her trip to a small, backyard farm to buy free-range eggs. The farm also has baby chicks, goats and bunnies. "Less of an ick factor," Donna said, comparing them to lizards. And then, Tony and I would take Natalie on her first hike.

Natalie was excited for the farm, even obediently changing out of her dress into pants for the trip.

As we made our way to the goats, Natalie asked "What smells, Mama?" And to emphasize her disgust, she pinched her nose.

She wasn't interested in petting this cute little kid.


And wouldn't even offer a finger to stroke this two-day-old bunny's head.


"Look at Aiden," I told her. Aiden lives at this farm. But his example didn't mean much to Natalie.


I don't have any pictures of Natalie because she was never in the same frame as the animals, but rather wrapped around my thigh or holding her nose.

But here she is safely back in the comfort of our good-smelling home with the eggs we bought.


After a lunch of curried egg salad sandwiches and a nap, it was time for Phase Two. I had prepared for this with the purchase of new hiking shoes for Natalie. Of course I made sure there was some pink involved. Cute, right? She totally dug them.


We chose Cowles Mountain for our inaugural hike. It's close to home and a mile to the top, where on a clear day you can see for miles. I kept my expectations low: 20 minutes up?

She was timid at first, unsure of her steps, as she clutched Tony's hand and mine.


But slowly, she began to let go.


And enjoy the view.

We climbed about a third of the way up, and took a break for a snack. We'd made it much farther than I had hoped we would.

And then Natalie said, as she often does when she tires of something: "Mama? I go now."

So we brushed off the crumbs from the pretzels, took another swig of water, and then, something magical happened.

Natalie led the way back down.

My crowning achievement of motherhood

When we bought the house Natalie's room was painted an awful green for the previous owners' baby boy, and decorated with large, navy blue decal circles which the wife gravely told me would not be part of the sale.

They also painted another bedroom orange. And throughout the house they refused to use tape, preferring to do everything freehand, so there is paint on the ceiling and on the baseboards and the light fixtures. It looks real nice.

They also left us a drawer full of beard trimmings in the master bathroom.

I am not their number one fan.

Anyway, we moved in, my half-Greek husband sprayed everything with bleach and I promised Natalie I would paint her room lavender. Here's an aside, though: Did you know that the color pink can have a calming effect, but after a while it actually intensifies emotions? So little girls' rooms and pink walls should be avoided at all costs. I learned this during a really neat work seminar about group dynamics with a psychologist. My job comes in handy sometimes.

Months later, the room is painted lavender (leaning more toward blue than pink). Natalie was a good little helper.

Now I have finally finished decorating it, the coup de grace being the dresser I planned to assemble myself while Tony was out campaigning for his boss on Saturday. Doing my part to reelect Kevin Faulconer! But then I unpacked everything.

Including this ridiculous bag of screws.

And so we called Angel, our amazing handyman who was going to be here installing the new garbage disposal. Sure, no problem, he said on the phone.

He laughed when he saw it. But he's a great sport. I fed him warm, fresh baked cobbler to ease the irritation. Three hours later, he was finished. It would have taken me two days.

So now the room is finished!

It may be my crowning achievement of motherhood.

After I put the tree on the wall, I stepped back and ... teared up!

I had finally done something perfectly. For once. Which made me feel much better about all my failings as a mother: working full-time, not being a kindergarten room parent, not sewing, skipping pages while reading bedtime stories, all my foot stomping and exasperated, exaggerated sighs.

I'm going to add crown moulding and then it will beyond reproach. I may win Mother of the Year! And I imagine that will buy at least a couple years' worth of stomping my feet and sighing.

Natalie likes her room. She had just one adjustment to make, and that was to the dresser top. Now, it's juuuust right.

It hurts to watch

My two Valentines. I love them so.

Happy Valentine's Day!