And It's Time Once Again For Me To Face My Shame - In Other Words - Eclipse Comes Out Tomorrow

Yes friends, it's that time again. Unless you live under a rock, you are aware that the third Twilight movie starts tonight at midnight. And if you think I will struggle to not ditch my sleeping babies and husband and hit the multiplex, you are CORRECT. I am not seeing this movie until Thursday. Thursday! It's like forever from now. And yes, I love the story, the books, the characters, the whole idea of a hidden world within our own. But that's not the real reason I am excited. Let's face it. I am excited about seeing little boys who are pretending to be werewolves because it makes me feel tingly. And it makes my heart flutter. And it makes me...giggle. I love Jacob. I have always loved Jacob. I would pick Jacob. Edward would not have stood a chance. Jacob is awesome and a total hunka hunka.

Face inside my palm. Shame. Pure shame.

"My name is Amy and I am a Twi-Mom."

"Hi Amy!"

Am I A Mother? Yes. A Genius? I think so.

Today my naughty children did not want to eat their breakfast. First, they wanted a bowl of strawberries with brown sugar on top. So I provided the fruit with just a smidge of brown sugar because it was too early to fight them and they ganged up on me. Then, they wanted rice candy from our Japanese food last night. Nope. No candy, was my reply. Whining ensued. I offered cereal, toast, eggs, bacon, waffles...all sort of breakfast items were available. They wanted rice candy. No. Please? No. Back and forth.

The morning went on and frankly, I was just tired of trying to convince them to eat something healthy-ish. But I knew if they ate nothing they would be cranky and hungry earlier for lunch which would just screw up the whole day. They say necessity is the mother of all invention.

I am the mother and this was my invention. "Girls, pretend one of you is a duckie at the park. I'll give the other person bread and you can feed it to the little sister duck." Cheers and celebratory jumping. So I gave each of them a slice of high fiber wheat bread and they tore it up in little squares and threw it on the ground while the other flapped their wings and bent their head down and ate it off the ground. They both ate two slices of high fiber bread along with a glass of water. Strawberries, bread and water. Not a bad breakfast and I didn't have to toast, pour or cook it in any way. I am a genius. And yes I will be trying the same trick the next morning I am just too tired to cook.

Quack quack.

If I Could Write You a Love Song...

Mike and I noticed something strange when we had the girls. It was something so unexpected. We had prepared for parenthood you guys. After 13 years we had our plan in hand. There wasn't any tidbit of info we thought would catch us off guard. We knew what to Expect When We Were Expecting while we were both Baby Wise and full of Love & Logic if you know what I mean. So in comes these two little lives and all of a sudden, all the cheesy, the most gushy, syrupy love songs on the radio were no longer about each other. They had been written specifically as beautiful ballads for our girls.

I'm about ready to date myself and by date myself I don't mean I'm about ready to take myself out for dinner & a movie. Badah - Bing! All the 80's love songs we had thought were about each other were instead completely re-written on our hearts and seemed to sum up exactly how we felt as we fell in love with these two little ladies. "You're the Inspiration", "Waiting For a Star To Fall", "After All", "Wind Beneath My Wings" and "Always & Forever". All cheese. All about my daughters. All causing these strange lumps to swell in our throats and moisture to leak from our eyes. What the hell was happening here? It must be the lack of sleep? Nope. Turns out it was true love.

So today, we were coming home from swim lessons and the famous ballad "The Rose" came on the radio by the amazing Bette Midler. Katie asked what this beautiful sound was? So I cranked it up and sang it for her and Jessica at the top of my lungs. And by the third verse I couldn't sing anymore because I could not stop crying. Tears and squeaking. That's all I had. And I realized that there has never been a song or words that sums up what I feel about my journey to and through motherhood quite like The Rose.

"Just remember in the winter, far beneath the bitter snow. Lies the seed that with the sun's love, in the Spring becomes the rose."

Wam, Bam I hate SPAM

You know what I am really sick of? As in come ON already! SPAM. I mean, how do those people KNOW that I have a tiny little penis and might be interested in enlarging it? Who told? It's ridiculous. Does anyone really trust the cleansing of your colon to someone who sent you an email? And if the people who send this are listening...no I'm really not a horny housewife, but thanks for asking.

I'll admit it. I've had my email address for a long time. As in a long long long time. I had it before I learned about internet privacy laws and how to protect myself by never opting in to anything. I shop a lot and use my email address. I didn't pay attention at first to all the boxes you need to check and being careful they weren't sharing my information...just send me the freakin' book/clothes/make-up already! I was in a hurry. So I probably made some errors. But in the past three days, I have received three personal emails. (I know, sad huh) But I have received over 250 emails from companies wanting me to buy something. Most of these have received my business in the past, but some of these companies peddling vitamins, penis enlargement surgery, colon cleansing and porn have not been patronized by yours truly. Hey, I just caught a correlation. Follow my logic here. Maybe if I took the vitamins they are selling, my colon would be clean and my penis would grow opening up a career in the porn industry? Maybe it's a conspiracy and these are all from the same person and they secretly love me and think following this path in my life will lead to enlightenment and fulfillment? Yeah, maybe not.

Be careful out there...it's a big world wide web.

Men Men Men...Manly Men

The men in my life have taught me some great things. How to multi-task, hunt for a sale, love of shoes and goat cheese....ha ha HA! Just joking. But yesterday was Father's Day and it would be just down right rude to let it pass without a tribute. So here are some real things the men in my life have taught me.

Mike Meeker, the husband: How to properly load a dishwasher, how to scramble the best eggs on the planet earth, how to not tip my hand too soon (in both Risk and life) and how to do laundry. (in theory...it's never been put into actual practice by me. He does ALL the washing. I KNOW!)

John Santos, the Papa: that Hawaii is the best place on the planet earth, to be proud of your heritage and that I was pretty just how I was. I didn't need to change one bit.

Tom Oliver Sr., the Papa #2: a garden is a peaceful place to spend time, how to shoot concord grapes in my mouth, what mint, anise and rosemary smelled like and that you can have as much fun with a hose and a bucket and you can in an entire swimming pool.

Bill Meeker, the father in law: baseball players might be almost as talented as softball players (I'm still not sure), people can change a lot about themselves if they are willing to look hard in the mirror and if somebody talks too loudly during a television show, you can just keep turning up the volume until they get the hint and shut up.

Ron, Ken, Rick, Chuck and Steve Meeker, the brothers: Being the big sister is the best job on the planet. You get to boss around a bunch of boys and they laugh instead of get mad.

and finally...the most important boy...

Thom Oliver Jr. , the FATHER: you can not learn anything with your mouth moving, do a good job and don't expect freebies or to get rich quickly - just work hard and it will work out, boring is between your ears, do NOT drink at a high school party when your dad is scheduled to pick you and your friends up, be honest, be calm, help family and look forward to having grandbabies.

Thanks guys and Happy Father's Day!

A Study In Contradiction...

Mike and I were talking the other night and we decided we are very conflicted individuals. Seriously, you laugh, but we are. We fall into certain stereo types for sure, but dig a little deeper into our gooey caramel centers and we are totally conflicted about stuff. Here's what I mean.

I have always been a Democrat. I used to say I was morally a conservative but fiscally I was pretty liberal. My parents assured me that as I got older I would grow more conservative as I made more money, because I would want to keep it. But the opposite is happening. I am getting more liberal. And then Mike, OH MIKE...he told me on the way home from Medford the other day that he wants to retire in Ashland, Oregon instead of Central Point because Ashland is a hippie town and he'd rather live by liberals than conservatives. What? Umm...excuse me MAJOR Meeker, Eagle Scout, Mormon guy...aren't you supposed to be conservative? He still considers himself conservative on most issues but he's gotten about 99 times more liberal since he became a doctor. So why are we conflicted about this? Because of our religion, our families and most of our friends are totally the opposite. We are surrounded on all sides by conservative republicans for the most part. We even know people who think republicans are too liberal! And I know lots of people don't understand how in the world we could even get near the label of liberal. But at least for me, I think it's time I quit making excuses and own my identity. And part of it is a person who is more to the left than I feel comfortable admitting. I am a card carrying liberal, except they don't give out cards. I am a tree huggin, peace lovin, live and let live, big government, free speech, gun controlling liberal. I'm sure I will get a comment or two about how conservatives are the real "live and let live" folks. But I'm sorry you guys, I just don't see it. I told my Grandma that I think I might be a socialist and she laughed so hard because she was sure I was kidding. *** See post-edit at the bottom ***

Here's another conflicted area of our lives. We believe strongly that we should spend our life in the service of others. Mike's whole career is service based. Service to country and service to his patients. I am a stay at home Mom and I believe in giving time to helping others. It's just... well, it's just...how do I explain it? Well, see, we'd rather, um, watch TV. There I said it. We'd rather snuggle up on the couch and watch something we have recorded on the DVR instead of serving anybody. We feel guilty about it because this love of couch potato-ness flies in the face of what we believe.

Additionally, the fact is we are old. Yet, our souls feel so young. I still feel about 17 years old emotionally. I still get nervous if I have to go into a new social situation. I still crave popularity and want to please people. Shouldn't I have outgrown that? I am a mother and almost 40 for crying out loud. I shouldn't care about people liking me or whether someone sits by me at the next social event. But I do. I really do. Sometimes I just want to tell my old wrinkled self to grow up and put on my big girl panties. But inside, I'm still that kid at the roller rink praying that I have friends to skate with on a Friday night.

I miss working. But I don't want to go back to work. I still identify myself as someone with a career yet I have not had one for 2 1/2 years. I always said I would go back to work when the girls go to 1st grade. But won't they need me even more once they start to encounter mean girls, peer pressure, sports, activities, lunches to pack and spelling tests? I mean, how did I ever learn to spell with two working parents? How did my lunch get packed? But do I really want to be out of the work place for so long that by the time I go back people look at me as a sad, pathetic empty nester who is trying to fill time with her little jobby job? That was a rhetorical question. The answer is no. So basically I go back in 18 months or I don't go back ever? See why all the conflict? It's maddening.

Diet Coke. Need I say more?

Mike and I both feel conflicted about whether we are strict enough with the girls. On one hand, we are old school. (probably because we are old) We were raised when kids still got spanked and you told your mother to shut up if you had indeed decided that you were ready for death. We were both a little bit scared of our parents and it kept us in line. But in today's world, we are supposed to know that spanking doesn't work and that we need to empower our kids to stand up for themselves and question things. Apparently there is scientific evidence that this kinder, gentler parenting produces better kids. But we just aren't sure we buy it. Can you imagine how much our conflictedness (not a word) is screwing up our kids? Are we strict or permissive? Are we old school or new school? Poor little cherubs. They are probably so confused. I know we are.

And oh boy, this next one is the big one. I am conflicted about religion. I'm not conflicted about God. Totally do not have conflicts with doctrine. However, I feel like a cafeteria Mormon. I show up with my empty tray and I take servings of what looks good to me, instead of what is being served. Hmmm, lets see...I'll start off with an appetizer of family prayer, then I'll take a serving of love one another, a main course of Jesus and a side of forever families please. I'll take a big slice of warm fuzzy feelings topped with honesty and sprinkled with integrity for dessert. Oh, nothing to drink for me. (Because you don't serve Diet Coke anyway) As I fill up my tray with stuff that feels good and goes down easily, I wonder what I am missing out on. I steer clear of the hard work, working through trials, missionary work, temple work. Well let's just be honest, I steer clear of anything with "work" in the title. I don't discuss religion with anyone really because it makes me feel like a phony fake fraud. But here it is. For all the Internet to see. I am conflicted. I used to not be conflicted. I used to want to do the work. I used to love the work. I also used to love entertaining and my job and putting on make up and artichokes. Now, I just feel tired. So overwhelmed and so tired. I know the answer. Pick up the ball, quit whining and run with it already. I know this is the truth. I know because I have prayed about it. And I got an answer. The answer came to my heart. It said, "you need to work harder". It said "you'll be happier if you work harder." But I remain conflicted, on my couch watching Modern Family. See the problem?

And finally, I am conflicted about diets. Do they really not work? But what about all those people who lose weight on a diet? Is it really about maintaining choices you can keep up for a life time? Or should you hunker down with the celery and diet? I hate celery you guys. But I have these last stinking 40 pounds to lose. I want to lose it. But then I think...do you REALLY want to? If you REALLY wanted to, wouldn't you just go on a diet already? I've been either on a diet, going on a diet, cheating on a diet or out of control stuffing my face since I was 10. I can recite the nutritional labels of most foods and could write my own diet manual. I have gained and lost my body weight several times over. And yet here I sit, stuck and conflicted. Should I make sensible choices tomorrow but not stress super hard about the weight? If I keep that up over the long run, the weight will eventually come off right? Or I could just take a deep breath and charge into the land of food journals and portion measuring. I'm just not sure.

Feel free to comment if you have any wisdom to impart. I'll take all I can get at this point. Also, please don't worry about us. We may be conflicted but we are gold medal champions at blocking stuff out and are currently serving our second term as the co-chairs of the denial committee. So I really don't think about how my life is a big fat sham all that often. What do you feel conflicted about? Please, to share? (and if you get that movie reference you know how old I am).


POST-EDIT:
Regarding "socialism"... Mike and my dad got their panties in a wad at this part of the post. Mike is in the Air Force, so, for the record (and for big brother, if he is reading), no, I am not a member of any socialist party and I'm not a pinko-commie. And apparently, I'm not aware of all the past horrors and future ramifications of socialist regimes. Stalin, Lenin...bad dudes,agreed. Communism sucks. All I am saying is that what's going on here with the big business/special interest isn't all too cool either? Capice? And no I have not joined the Italians.

Like a Froggy Ferny Cabbage...

This past weekend, Mike Meeker and I got away for a little romantic stay in San Francisco. Say what you will about San Francisco...I know it can be a bit much for those with a more conservative palette. But for me, San Francisco is my kind of town. The food, the architecture, the water, the Golden Gate Bridge, the food, the theatre, the wackadoo people, the food, the shopping, the topography, Alcatraz and oh, did I mention the food? We stayed at the very impressive and cool J.W Marriott not to be confused with the plain ol' regular Marriott. Our room overlooked Union Square and was just steps from Nordstroms which was having their half yearly sale thank you very much. Funny story. Mike could not for the life of him remember where we were staying. Upon arriving in the city he googled our location on his iPhone only to lead us to a spot halfway across the golden gate bridge. It showed our hotel in the middle of the San Francisco Bay. So there was much yelling and male/female oriented arguing about maps vs. asking for effing directions already!!! I turned down several one way streets going the wrong way all the while screaming "I feel like I am in a canyon and getting chlaustro (my abbreviation for claustrophobia)." Mike was just sticking to his guns and kept giving me the directions from his phone. His trust in technology over common sense was driving me bazerk. Finally, we arrived at our ultra mod and fancy hotel and thanks to an ex Navy guy at the reservation desk, we got upgraded to a fancier room on the 17th floor with a view of the city and the bay. And every time Mike got in a cab for the next 2 days he would freeze up and give the name of the wrong hotel. First cab driver asked him "Where to?" His response, "The Hilton". My response "ummm No. The JW Marriott." Second cab driver asked him "Where to?" His response, "The C.W. Hilton." My response, "That's not even a hotel!!! ha ha ha The ha ha J. ha ha W. ha ha Marriott ha ha ha hee hee hee!" The third cab driver asked him "Where to?" His response "I have no idea ask her grumble grumble." My response "The JW Marriott please. (Under my breath) or we could try the C.W. Hilton ha ha ha haaaa!"

Anyhoo, we dined at Roy's of Hawaii Friday night. We had been dreaming of this miso crusted butter fish we had in Hawaii several years ago and they had it on the menu at the San Fran location so off we went. It was just as delightful as I remembered. We started off with a wagu beef and lobster sushi roll, then we had shrimp curry and mango salads and finished with the misoyaki butter fish. The best thing about dinner was at the table next to us Mr. and Mrs. Perfect were having a very awkward anniversary dinner. They had perfect hair, perfect teeth, perfect clothes and she had a lot of perfect jewelry. Upon their pineapple martinis arriving, Mr. hands Mrs. a velvet pouch. Now my ears and eyes perked right up because this velvet pouch was robins egg blue and I knew exactly where it had come from. Tiffany's baby! So I'm all excited for Mrs. to see what treasure the pouch held. I held my breath. Mrs. pulls out a big ol' sparkly diamond anniversary band. In the dullest voice possible Mr. says "happy anniversary". Mrs. puts the band on her hand. She looks at it. She has said nothing. All of a sudden she blurts out "It's really sparkly, I don't think it matches." Mr. says "It matches. I made sure it was the one that went with your ring." And then Mrs. goes on and on about how she's not sure and it seems too sparkly and it might be okay. Mr. says nothing during her rambling. Then the oddest thing happens. She stuffs the velvet pouch in her coach clutch bag and they begin eating their appetizers for which she makes yummy noises and gets all excited. And I'm sitting there thinking "she is seriously getting more excited by the lobster dumplings that at least a $7,000 ring! Is she crazy?" And midway through the canoe appetizer platter Mr. goes "maybe it looks different than you thought because your fingers have gotten all fat." And then I got sad for Mr. and Mrs. Perfect. Here they were in one of the greatest restaurants in the world. They had been blessed with amazing looks and obvious wealth and they had each other. But they were miserable! And here I was with my iPhone toting husband, in our military rate hotel room, eating at a place we can only afford every 5 years or so with him making up the names of imaginary hotels and I couldn't love him more or be happier with my life. It was one of those life defining moments that makes you realize to shut your trap and just be in love and grateful. But I'd take the ring from Tiffany's if somebody wanted to give it to me. I'm just saying. It was A LOT of diamonds for pete's sake.

We hopped in our cab and sped to the Orpheum Theatre to see my absolute favorite musical of all time...Wicked. I can't explain to you how much I love this musical. I get emotional when I hand the dude my ticket and I don't stop blubbering until I leave the theatre. Here's the story without giving anything away. The play opens with the celebration in the Emerald City that the Wicked Witch of the West is dead. And then some citizen of Oz yells up to Glinda in her bubble "wasn't she your friend?" And then we go back in time to the origins and childhoods of Glinda the Good Witch of the North and Elphaba the Wicked Witch of the West. It turns out they knew each other in boarding school and the play follows their lives. Many truths we had always assumed about all the characters are turned upside down as the play explores how rumor, politics and circumstances can twist and turn the truth about events and people. Are we born wicked or do we have wickedness thrust upon us? And here's why I feel so emotional about this play. Most people think it's because it's based on The Wizard of Oz which is my favorite movie of all time. But that's only about 2% of why I love this play. Here's the real reason.

There was a time in my life several years ago when some people I loved believed me to be a certain type of person. They believed me to be hateful, mean, dishonest, sneaky, hurtful and that I purposely tried to destroy relationships. It was awful to have people think these things about you. It made me angry and it hurt deep in a place that I had never hurt before. As time went on and I felt exposed, raw and misrepresented to a host of other people, I began to change. I started to become what they thought I was. For the first time in my life, someone I loved was suffering and instead of feeling badly I was glad. I thought they deserved what they got. I had lost my way. I became horribly and totally lost. I did things that still shock me when I remember them. I allowed everything about my life to spiral out of control. My heart was broken and my compassion was gone. I was deeply depressed both situationaly and chemically. I was heavier than I ever had been. I was angry with everyone in my life and my marriage was in crisis. I felt as though everyone in the world hated me and who could blame them? Look what I had become! A monster.

There are moments in this musical that take me back to that time and remind me of exactly how I felt. I like to see this play and listen to the music often because it reminds me that every person in this world has goodness inside of them. It reminds me not to listen to mean gossip about people and that there are two sides to every story. It makes me look at every person in my life differently. For example, there are people that I grew up with thinking were flawed in certain ways. I wonder sometimes what the real story is with that person. What pain am I not aware of or what is the whole truth behind their heart? We have to be so careful how we think and judge others. We must always remember that every person has some measure of goodness inside of them, even if they have lost their way. I know there are murderers and child molesters and people that do horrible things and I'm not really speaking of them. I am more speaking of that girl you knew in high school that you thought was such a bitch. Maybe she's not. Maybe she was really insecure and had a mother who told her worth could be found only in her looks. And that lady at church who is just so hard to like...maybe she is sad and lonely and is protecting her heart by being mean and nasty so no one sees how hurt she is inside. This musical, in an amazingly wonderful way, strips down a story that I grew up loving above all others and reminds me that people are complex and we all have it inside of us to be both wicked and good. It is just my favorite story in the world and the music is wonderful.

After I sobbed my eyes out and picked through fries and a cherry diet Coke with Mike and his chocolate malt at a 50's style diner near our hotel, we stumbled back to our room feeling drunk on food and Broadway and salty fries and chocolate but mostly, we were drunk on FREEDOM. We were out in an actual big city, past midnight! We put on fluffy bathrobes, jumped up and down on the bed like...well - five year olds. Then we thought about our adorable five year olds at home that weren't with us. And then we fell on the bed in evil diabolical laughter that we were freeeeeeeeee! ha haaaaaaaaa...suck it losers!!!! And then we felt badly for about two seconds and promised to buy our angel baby girls something sparkly in the morning before we left town.

The morning greeted us unlike 99% of mornings in San Francisco. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. Not a single cloud. And a gentle cool breeze made your hair flutter but didn't whip it around so it lashed at your face. It was a perfectly glorious day. We headed to the ferry building where they hold a Saturday farmers market and perused the food stalls for gourmet treats. Mike even went without his beloved breakfast foods so he could be ready to sample all that was offered. Luckily he found a gourmet ham, egg and cheese sandwich at the gourmet meat shop and fresh squeezed blood orange juice iced down perfectly at the Farmers market so he was in Heaven! After walking around for a long while, we found ourselves waiting on line for a table at Ferry Island Seafood. We snagged an outdoor table right on the water where we promptly ordered our standard San Francisco treats to share: dungeness crab louie, big bowl of clam chowder and a grilled artichoke with garlic aioli. We had our books and we sat and basked in the sun and deliciousness and freedom. We wanted to read but kept on talking and talking to each other. It's amazing how much talking we did! You would think after almost 18 years of marriage we would be pretty much talked out. But no. We just couldn't shut up. It was wonderful.

We wandered aimlessly for about an hour. We found the sparkly gifts we had been thinking of for the girls. Swavorski crystals on a necklace of ribbon. Hot pink for Katie and sky blue for Jessica. We took pictures and allowed the sun to begin to crisp our faces. We hopped in a cab. Mike was appropriately silent as I gave the instructions to the driver. We picked up our stowed luggage and car and headed slowly out of the city.

Mom and Dad gave us an extra surprise by announcing that we did not need to rush over and pick up the girls Saturday night but could pick them up Sunday morning after breakfast and before church. We did not wait on the phone for them to change their minds. We said "thankyouveryverymuch" and promptly hung up. I got to do grocery shopping for the next two days festivities and got to bed early.

After attending church at the Marshallese branch on Sunday we had Mike's mom and dad over for Sunday dinner. Inspired by our trip, we dined al fresco on steak, shrimp, grilled corn, grilled potatoes and a simple but delicious salad of tomatoes and cucumbers. Berries, home made angel food cake and ice cream sundaes were the dessert selections and were enjoyed as the last of the days light slipped away.

Again, inspired by our trip, we invited my parents and both of my grandmas over on Monday for my attempt to recreate the miso glazed butter fish that we had dined on Friday night at Roy's. I got the recipe from a website long ago, but have never had the courage to attempt making it myself. The ingredient list is odd and intimidating in the number of items that go into the dish. I wasn't sure I could pull it off. Thanks to my sous chef Dad and my line cooks Mike and Mom, it was an enormous success. The plates were beautiful and the dish was a very very close replica of the dish we had in the restaurant. I served it with steamed calrose rice and spinach sauteed with apples, pine nuts, golden raisins and shallots. We had my Grandma's sour cream lemon pie (heaven) and berries with honeyed Greek yogurt for dessert. I was thrilled and shocked that I had recreated this dish. And now that I've done it once, it will be much less intimidating to try again.

All in all, it was a fantastic weekend full of time spent reconnecting with those that I love. All of these people rallied around me while I was down and out with the recent iron infusions I underwent. I wanted to cook for them to show them I am thankful for them and that I love them. And for Mike, I wanted to reconnect with my best friend and let him know I was so grateful he held us all together when I could not. He worked his butt off to keep all of our balls in the air over the past month. He is too good to me. Even if he is directionally and hotel name challenged, I couldn't be luckier in the person I share my life with.