This is my smart and beautiful daughter Alex. On one of our road trips, she took some photos and these are my favorites.
Bandananana, The Musical Group
Never have bandannas had such a great weekend. Not only worn but used in a variety of ways including magic tricks, pretend tourniquets, fake band headgear and fashion statements when going out to lunch.
Family Photos Christmas 2009
New Tattoo
A bracelet of my kids’ names on my left wrist.
Anthony Michael
Seriously one of the most manly 15 year-olds I’ve ever seen. At almost 6’3″ and 180lbs, Tony was asked to play on the Varsity football team this coming year instead of the Sophomore team. They are afraid he might hurt the kids his age.
Tyler The Man, Age 16
Apron Strings
“I’ll be back at Thanksgiving and I know it’s Dad’s holiday but I’ll come see you, too!” She spritzes herself with girl smells, maybe something fruity?, and checks her lip gloss in the visor mirror, then snaps it shut, shoves it back in place and turns her 100 watt smile at me. “Don’t worry!” she says, and grabs her iPod.
Traffic is light and the weather has been perfect for a quick road trip to Grandma’s. The premise is that my mom has a Bosch and a Kitchen Aid sitting in the basement and I get to borrow them for an indefinite amount of time. The reality is that I’m soaking up every last second of alone time I can before she leaves in August and becomes someone new again.
It’s one of those moments when the feeling in my chest becomes almost too big to hold and I’m bursting with emotion, a mix of happiness at who she is becoming and pride at her learning to love and accept her body as it is and worry that the world will take her emerging confidence and slap her down and love at everything she is and everything she was and everything she will be.
We talk about relationships and what the guys might be like at college. She tells me how she’s grown to love and appreciate her step-dad and that she can’t believe she was once so cold to him. She talks about her brothers and how she didn’t know she could love them so much and how she’s going to miss them. About how she’s been trying to spend time with everyone at home before she goes because when she comes back, everything will be different and it might never feel like home again. I know she’s right and that coming back home as a person with time experienced elsewhere with new friends and new places and new learning experiences that no one at home knows about changes you and you never feel like you quite fit in again until you make your own home. And it makes me sad and a few tears slip down my cheeks but I don’t stop smiling or singing along with her to Beyonce’s If I Were a Boy because really I’m so happy for her. And I cry.
“Mom!” she says. “Did I tell you what happened with T.? No? Oh my gosh, you have to hear this.” And she begins a tale of this boy and that girl and the beach and Los Angeles and New York and while she talks she uses her hands to text three friends back and forth and never pauses in the story, a few smiles on her lips when someone texts her something cute or flirty. And when she’s done with that story she seamlessly launches into a new one and although I don’t always understand everything that is happening or her reactions to some parts of what happened, I listen and listen and shake my head in agreement because it’s so fun to watch her animated gestures and listen to her dramatic voice. She’s on a stage and I’m her audience. But then she asks for my advice and suddenly, I find I do have something to say. And she accepts it, just like that. Mostly, I think, because it’s exactly what she already knew.
I watched her sing a few weeks ago at her graduation ceremony in front of the entire town.
Thousands of people. And she did it with confidence and sounded great. People whispered behind me that she sounded wonderful and I smiled a tiny smile, knowing she was my daughter. I imagine she could do that on a stage professionally someday. I wouldn’t be surprised. But I would probably be on pins and needles until she finished each performance, just like I was that day.
Suddenly, the mood changes in her and she searches her iPod for something upbeat and loud. She finds Avril’s Runaway and sings at the top of her lungs and her infectious energy fills the cabin and creates a glowing halo around the car that surely, everyone must be seeing. She’s practically hovering over her seat. She grabs the camera and begins to shoot random shots.
Then she decides to turn the camera in a circle and see what comes out, all the while singing and laughing.
Then she declares that shots taken of a rounding corner of the road are the prettiest.
Her mood elevates even more into a slap-happy stage where she makes silly jokes and funny faces at me until I’m laughing. And crying. But mostly laughing.
At Grandma’s she doesn’t go off to a corner and read a book or spend time sighing in obvious boredom as a teen is sometimes wont to do. Instead she sits by Grandma, who is showing me some new stitches, and asks if she could learn how to embroider, too. My mom whips out a dishcloth and sets her up with some thread and a needle, molding her amateur fingers into the most advantageous position. And my daughter sits at the table for a long time, learning how to keep the needle on top and how to make a pretty leaf and flower petal, only taking out her phone for texts a few times, smiling that small private smile. And I know she’ll remember this moment as one of the last before she grew into a full-fledged adult. She mentions to my mom that she wants to learn how to sew and had there been time, I’m sure she would have come home with a skirt made with her own hands and much coaching from Grandma.
I talk to my brother and his wife and for a moment, look up and find she’s gone. I look in the backyard and there she is, swinging on the small swings where many years ago she used to pose for me and ask me to take her picture, her blond streaked hair in ringlets being blown in the wind and her small mouth and tiny teeth and one leg posed this way and one arm posed that way. “Take one this way.” she’d say with a little lisp. She’s going higher and higher and looks up to the sky and her eyes tell the story of someone trying to capture a moment long ago and put it in a bottle for later, when she needs a pick-me-up. And I remember her at sixteen and fourteen and wonder what twenty will look like.
Back in the car on the way home and she’s somewhat serious. She’s contemplating how a good relationship works and where and what she wants to be in the future. She asks me if I know what she’s talking about and yes, I do. She wants me to share back with her some things that are hard for me. So, I do. And I tell her things I wouldn’t normally mention but it feels right right now, at this moment. And she comforts me and gives me advice and I’m amazed by her depth and wisdom at such a young age. And I realize most of it is the same advice I gave her yesterday and I’m glad she’s said it because now I know she knows it. And that’s a comfort.
Then out comes the sunshine on her face and she’s ready for some Kelly Clarkson. We sing together at the top of our lungs, complete with hand gestures and mannerisms in a choreography we created five or six years ago, often looking at each other and trying not to laugh when I sing a bad note. And I know that this is the moment I’ll tuck away in my heart in a tiny pocket that is reserved for when I miss her. This memory will get me through some days when I long to hold her and whiff her hair and smell that girl smell, fruity, and watch her telling me about this guy or that girl and what happened next. And I’ll take it out and remember her on that day and cry a little. And be happy.
But, I Didn't Pee My Pants
I started this week by inhaling the essence of the Queen of Sheba up my left nostril and was all, Oh, I only walk on 3inch padded long nap ecru Persian rugs and If you don’t peel my grapes, I’m going to banish you to a life of only reality television and morning radio shows and I’m thinking we’ll paint the walls golden bronze, straw, ochre, saffron or amber and it’s really important you tell me which one you like the best because they are ALL SO DIFFERENT.
In other words, I was awesome to be around.
This could be because I was overcompensating my lameness of the weekend previous. The one where I drove to the OC with my son, Devon. And it took three hours and I had a soda. A very large Dr. Pepper that went straight to my bladder and starting dancing the Hustle at the speed of light. But we were almost there! And there was nowhere to pee! And there was traffic! Never have I wished so hard for anything as I did for an adult diaper at that moment. And then we turned on some roads and passed some signs and stuff and OMG I had to go pee!!
So we finally got to the street in Laguna where Heather and Jon were staying and I saw their condo on the left and went PHEW! DEVON PARK THIS HEAP WHILE I RUN IN AND GO PEE! So Dev makes with this really heavy sigh (BUT HE HAS NOT HAD 4 KIDS so he doesn’t know what that does to your body. KEGELS!!) and a few eye rolls and says Really? NOW? but I didn’t even notice because ZOMG THE PEEING I needed to do. I swung open the door and jumped about a foot down to the ground. (FORESHADOWING) But I didn’t trip and fall and I was very proud of that. And then Devon climbed up a few feet (AGAIN FORESHADOWING) closed the door and I started walking away and then I heard this awful noise like tires spinning. Because the TIRES WERE SPINNING. Because the streets in Laguna go up and down the hills at about a 50% grade. Just kidding! It’s only about 25%. (REALLY) And I had pulled into this driveway that had more major angles than Blagojevich. And only one of the back tires and one of the front tires were touching the ground and the back one was just touching enough to make this really awful burny smell.
So, I looked at the van, perched and wobbling as it was, and I almost forgot I had to pee. Almost. And I looked at the van some more. And I realized that I had left the van in the MOST awkward and unsafe position possible and in fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the van toppled over on its side. (REALLY) And in fact (AGAIN), I believe Devon said something like MOM THIS VAN IS GOING TO TIP ON THE SIDE! And I just kept staring because I remembered I had to go pee but I knew if I left, my son would end up lying on his left side, head in the gravel or he would try to move the van backwards again and the van would IN FACT move forward and slam into the truck about 6 inches in front of him. And the van, that beast that weighs about a million pounds, would just go faster and faster and careen out of control, crashing into cars and houses and people on both sides of the street including a baby in a stroller in there somewhere and then slam into the busy 101 where the van would kill a family of six, (a RELIGIOUS family of six, that included a 13 year old piano prodigy that was on his way to a concert where he was raising millions of money for a cure for cancer and THEY WOULD HAVE DONE IT, TOO!) and then roll over and over until Devon was almost dead and with his last breath he would ask Why didn’t you just go at the Shell station in Irvine, Moooooooommmm…….
But I still had to pee. And then, suddenly Jon was there. Yay! It’s Jon! It was better than the 2nd coming. And he asks how it’s going and I almost want to pinch him because HELLO! How does it look like we’re doing? But, actually, I’m SO GLAD TO SEE HIM that I almost forget I have to pee. But not really. Because although it’s awesome to have someone like Jon on your team when trying to get your van that is teetering like it’s on top of a spike out of immediate danger, your body, when you REALLY have to go pee, won’t let you forget it. I actually considered just letting it go. You know, whizzing in the street. Letting the yellow river flow. Watering the plants with my electrolyte leftovers. But then I didn’t, because it would totally ruin my boots.
SO THEN. I realized that Jon had actually come from the other side of the street. (How fun would that have been to run into the wrong place, frantically trying to use the bathroom? Eh??) From further up the hill. And I could see Heather, glowing (pregnancy looks so good on her!), in the window looking out and giving me the strangest look. AND THEN. I realized I was going to have to walk up the hill about 50 feet, not peeing. And then Devon is really concentrating and I’m telling him to turn the wheels all the way one way and Jon is telling him to turn the wheels all the way the other way and Devon is getting frustrated and we’re all a little freaked out and the smell in the air is like we’re lounging around a tar pit on fire and finally Jon goes – Hey Leah! How about you go up to the house and go pee already. – and I can see in his eyes that he would really like it if I wasn’t telling Dev all the wrong stuff to do (JUST MAKING HIS JOB HARDER) (REALLY NOT HELPING) and I heard in his voice that uber-patient tone that you use on the nearly deaf and very young children. The same voice he used when I got lost on the way to their home in SLC and he had to guide me in. Every time. And so I turned around and carefully/quickly walked up the hill and found the right door. And Heather was all Hey! How are you? What’s goi……. And I ran past her and into the bathroom and THE HEAVENS OPENED AND THE ANGELS REJOICED!
As I sat on the throne, my arms wrapped around my knees, my head resting on my legs, relishing every last drip, I tried to remember what I had been so concerned about just a few minutes ago. Hmmm. Was it something about the economy? Or…..maybe I forgot to pay the electricity bill? And then suddenly, I remembered my son was about to die, the van was about to crumple and Heather was in the hall wondering what the hell was going on, her hair blown back from the speed at which I’d passed her.
By the time I’d finished with the bathroom things, (ahem) and run into the hallway, Dev and Jon were back inside. Everything was going to be fine. No one died. The van didn’t crash into anything. (The solution? Leave the van parked haphazardly half in the street and inches away from the truck in front of the van and wait for the owner to come home and move it 10 feet forward. And it worked.) And then we all held hands and swayed left and right while singing Kumbaya.
Leta, who is secretly a fairy, pronounced that my favorite princess was The Princess and the Pea and used her magic to read incredibly long and complex words that no child her age should be reading. Unless they are a genius. Which she is.
The Burrito King came and we got the most delicious food we’d ever tasted. Even our taste buds sang. And we laughed heartily and merrily with our heads thrown back and our hair flowing down our backs and thought how lucky we were to be lottery winners and how much fun we were going to have when we all owned our new Vespas and buzzed around town in our matching purple Polo shirts and Birkenstocks.
And later, when Dev and I got ready to leave, I used the bathroom. Twice.
Shrine
There is this table in the kitchen that we never use for eating and while I was unpacking boxes and organizing everything in the kitchen and art room, I kept placing all my favorite things together, collecting them on that table.
After all the rest of the house was done, I looked around and didn’t really see a great place to put all this important (to me) stuff so I just kind of lined things up in rows. Then the next day, I leaned the larger stuff against the wall. And I just kept moving stuff and arranging little by little until one day, I walked in the kitchen and there was this shrine sitting there, showcasing all my favorite family and friend things.
I keep looking at it and wondering what I’m doing with it there, covering a perfectly good table that someone could be using for, I don’t know, a puzzle? Or a holiday craft of some kind? But they can’t because I’ve carefully placed all my stuff on it, arranged just so. And if someone so much as looks at it sideways, my heart starts to race and my neck turns red and my hands kind of fist and un-fist. Because – Hey! That’s my stuff! All over the table! Including a blanket! And a plate of green glass! So don’t even think of eating there. Or, using it like a table….oh, man, I feel like a dork.
But I can’t seem to take it down, so, if you’re in the neighborhood, feel free to come over and check out the shrine I built in the kitchen eating area. But don’t want to sit there and eat. And don’t look at it sideways.
Detailed notes when you click through to Flickr.
My Daughter Will Kill Me
Every year, Alex and I try to get away for a weekend with my sister and her daughters where we can all be on our periods at the same time. Good times. This past October’s trip got pushed a few months into 2009.
We flew up last weekend to Rhoda’s and then drove up to the Bavarian themed town of Leavenworth and the Enzian Inn. Our favorite part of staying at the Enzian is the Alphorn player – the cutest little dude you’ve ever seen.
It was a really fun weekend, mostly because I got to hang out with Alex. I love hanging out with Alex. We talk, talk, talk about hair and boyfriends/husbands and then do our nails. We eat chocolate and trade paperback books and watch all the chick flicks a person can handle and talk about our leading men crushes. (Her – James Marsden, Me – Mark Ruffalo (who, incidentally, looks a lot like Joe) ) We do all the important girl stuff and I eat up every moment of it. It’s always a little bittersweet because I realize we are so close and have so much fun as ‘friends’ because she doesn’t see me so much as a ‘mom,’ but I take what I can get.
At some point during day 2, after much talking, movie watching, jewelry making and lying around in our sweats, we all got a little slap-happy and the result is this photo of Alex that she will kill me for posting, but absolutely, positively must put here for all to see. Alex – I’m sorry. But I love you and even the chicken glasses do not diminish your beauty. This pose is divine and when you are done yelling at me, I’ll get out the nail polish and do your toes.
Halloween at Disneyland
Disneyland invited me to come and see the fun Trick-or-Treating they do there on the weekends before Halloween at California Adventure Park. Since our kids were all busy that night, Joe and I took my brother, his wife and their 7-yr-old son, Gideon.
Here’s their family in front of the California Screamin’ ride, which happens to be our young Jedi’s favorite ride. (His Jedi costume was handmade by his mom, Heather.)
The Treat Stops were located every 40 feet or so and they gave you entire handfuls of candy at every stop. The amount of candy we walked out of the park with was almost obscene. And delicious.
This was my first time being in California Adventure Park and it was beautiful at night.
Joe and I had a great time. We tried five times to get a shot with Joe’s eyes open, but then we gave up.
The park had other activities for the kids like coloring masks,
And dancing with the characters in the parade.
Gideon has a season pass and has been to Adventure park many times. He told me not to expect the Halloween decorations next time I go. Thanks for managing my expectations, Gideon.
The next day we went back for some more fun. We attended a reception where some characters were coming to visit with the kids. Gideon got to meet Genie.
He had a snack and decorated a cookie with his own boxed cookie decorating kit.
He and Heather got face/body paint from a very talented artist.
The entire staff at Disneyland and California Adventure park did a wonderful job of creating a fun and magical place for kids to celebrate Halloween in a safe environment. They have the Trick-or-Treat nights on select evenings including Halloween.
Hola, Louisa!
Since you’re seen me last I’ve been a blurry smear of action. I went on some travels and am about to go on some more. I’ve had the kids more because it’s summer and pretty much every day has been packed with things like lunches and coffees and pedicures and laughing and reading books together. We’ve made it through the Twilight series and the Uglies series so far. But the last book in the Twilight series comes out in August and we’re all waiting with baited breath. It’s been really fun to talk about the books together. With the exception of 1984. It wasn’t required 8th grade reading in Utah and I can’t say I’m sorry about that. I realize there are important themes in it and it’s done some good warning people of what-might-have-been, but man, it’s a bummer book.
It’s been really fun having my brother and his wife and son living with us. I really dig Gideon. He can be a fun guy to hang out and play Uno with. And it’s always nice to get to know your siblings better. Good times all around.
I know many of you have wondered if I’d dropped off the face of the earth or was experiencing a particularly bad down swing. Sorry for the worry. I’m doing great. Thanks for your emails. Posting will most likely be light throughout the summer. We have quite a few trips and activities planned.
xo