Rambling...

There's nothing of value here, I promise...move on to the next blog you read. These are just my thoughts that are so jumbled I could not sleep last night and I feel like I need to purge. If I lived in L.A. I would seek out an emotional colonic. I have neither the time nor the cash for therapy. At least not the amount of therapy I would need. It's not that I am not narcissistic or self indulgent enough...it's just I don't feel like getting a babysitter. So I blog and try and get it all out there. And therapists always want you to end up blaming your mother. And I think my Mom rocks. So I've found myself defending her honor to my therapist and then they just think I am in denial and the therapy quickly comes to a Texas standoff. Blogging is better.

I wish I was a chef. But they work crappy hours and my knees hurt so badly that I would never make it. I think a good chef is one of the hardest things anyone can ever do. It's like finding a good artist. It's just so rare to find someone with the gift. My Dad is a good chef. He's also a good artist. I love cooking shows. Top Chef is the bestest show on the planet.

Jessica does this puppy imitation every time you correct her behavior. It's a coping mechanism when she doesn't like what you are telling her. I find myself being harder on her because she is jumping around laughing and acting like a dog and Katie cries and acts contrite. I am going to try and understand that Jessica is just figuring out a way to cope and that Katie has probably learned to cry and say sorry and she gets off easier. It's so hard to be even and consistent. I am not a manipulator. I really don't have hidden agendas and go through the back door with people. So if my kids are manipulating me, I just don't ever see it. Either I am ignorant or they aren't manipulating me and things are fine.

I miss Washington DC Amy. D.C. Amy took the subway and wore long coats and cool scarfs and hats. Elk Grove Amy wears sweats and jeans and drives a dented minivan. D.C. Amy got her hair cut at a cool salon in Pentagon City by a guy that cut Hillary Clinton's hair once. Elk Grove Amy is lucky to get into Fantastic Sams once every few months. D.C. Amy read a book every three days and ate lunch in the rotunda of the National Gallery of Art. Elk Grove Amy re-reads the same pages of books like 15 times and eats PB&J on her couch. Washington DC Amy entertained and threw fantastic parties. Elk Grove Amy is resentful when she has to cook spaghetti. Washington DC Amy went to the movies on Saturday nights with her husband. Elk Grove Amy does not go to the movies. Ever. Washington DC Amy went to awesome restaurants and walked around the awesomest city ever and lived on an Air Force Base and had friends. Elk Grove Amy goes through drive-thrus, hangs out at the play park and lives on a culdesac where she does not know a soul. I miss DC Amy even though I like being a SAHM and living in California and am glad I'm not working right now and all these things are choices. But I still miss her. She was sassy. And wore cool lipstick.

I think getting the newspaper is stupid. It creates a lot of mess and I can read the news online. If I were so inclined. Which I am not. Because I hate the news. It's so depressing. Meh.

I read Nat the Fat Rat's Blog and she was singing the praises of PB & Honey sandwiches. We are trying to be more financially conscious. So I started eating these. They are so delicious. With multi grain bread and crunch PB and delicious honey. yum.

I love good teachers. My girls have the BEST preschool teacher who they love and who loves them in return. She cares about their safety both emotional and physical. She works her butt off for these kids. And she makes no money. I think that sucks. Teachers should make way more cash.

I miss my Gram. I don't just miss her physical presence because she's in Washington and then is going to Oregon. But I miss her since her mind got really bad at Christmas. I just miss her.

My friend's husband has cancer. I called her the other night thinking I would be that super upbeat friend who was all joke joke joke and not all sad and debbie downer like. I sobbed when I talked to her and I haven't been able to stop crying when I think about her. Not because I feel pity for her or because I feel guilty. I just would give anything I had to keep her family from going through this right now. I can't explain it. I just honestly would do or take on anything to take this away from her because she's just so cool and funny and has the best attitude. If she reads this, I'm sorry I fell apart and was that friend that I so didn't want to be.

Rick isn't going to Afghanistan. His deployment got cancelled. Yay for Heather and the kids and Rick. I was really glad to get this news today. I was worried about Heather because I love her and I didn't want her to be lonely. I know he'll still have to go at some point but I'm hoping it will be for a shorter period of time. Mike will go back in 13 months. The thought of that takes my breath away.

I am going to go make dinner. Lasagna or french toast with strawberries, bacon and a fresh fruit and veggie smoothie? I'll call Mike and let him pick.

Good & Bad

Good Thing That Happened Today:
Mike took a day of pre-planned leave (vacation) so he could stay at home, let me rest and get over the rest of my Valentines Day illness.

Bad Thing That Happened Today:
Katie came in this morning to snuggle and passed gas while sleeping with her little pajama'd bum in my face.

Good Thing That Happened Today:
Mike fed the kids breakfast.

Bad Thing That Happened Today:
He made them an "apple snake" which is a long apple peel that looks like a snake. Jessica tried to eat it. She choked.

Good Thing That Happened Today:
Mike went to med school and residency and saved a choking Jessica.

Bad Thing That Happened Today:
I left for my 3:15 surgeon appointment at 1:15 pm. thinking the appointment was at 2pm.

Good Thing That Happened Today:
The surgeon could see me early.

Bad Thing That Happened Today:
I have to have surgery on both of my knees.

Good Thing That Happened Today:
IT'S NOT MY FAULT. It's not because of an injury or abuse to my knees from being fat or playing softball for 14 years or falling down the subway stairs in DC. I was BORN with abnormal patella cups so my knee caps had nothing with which to sit inside like other people. It's been like my knee caps have been sliding around on a thin cookie sheet since birth. My pediatrician should have caught this and fixed it surgically in adolescence. Ha HA! Not my fault people.

Bad Thing That Happened Today:
I still have to have double knee surgery. And it's a delicate procedure. And it's not a slam dunk like a replaced ACL or something like that. So I'm having a pediatric orthopedist do it who does a lot of these but he does them on kids. But he's still supposed to be the best.

Good Thing That Happened Today:
Mike Meeker made dinner. Spaghetti with meat sauce and Steamed Broccoli. This is a miracle from Heaven.

Bad Thing That Happened Today:
I made brownies for dessert. Then ate two of them.

Good Thing That Happened Today:
Mike cleared out the kids drawers and got rid of all the clothes that are too small and matched all the random socks. This is also another miracle.

Bad Thing That Happened Today:
I finished that dumb book in the post below.

Good Thing That Happened Today:
It was the Top Chef Semi Final

Bad Thing That Happened Today:
Fabio got eliminated. I want to marry Fabio in the event Mike leaves me for Denise Richards who he is secretly in lust with even though she is a skank but she's now single so he finally has a chance (ha ha). All I'm saying is that she better get eliminated quickly from Dancing With the Stars. I hate that beawwwch.

BUMMED OUT

Spoiler Alert! I just read Dear John by Nicholas Sparks and if you have it in your unread stack on the bottom shelf of your nightstand like I did, don't read on. However, if you have either read it or have not tagged it yet to read, please feel free to continue. Because I have a lot to say about this book. And it's not all great. In fact, some of it is very very bad.

Here is the Reader's Digest of the plot. Enter John. He is a rebel raised by a single Dad who is into coin collecting and is socially awkward thus unable to connect with his growing teenage son. John becomes a rebel...drinking, surfing, boozing and living the life of a bum. John realizes he needs direction and enlists in the army circa 1999. He is in the infantry and quickly promotes to the rank of sergeant. While home on leave, he goes surfing in his local town of Wilmington, NC. He meets a young, fresh faced innocent girl named Savannah who is in town with other students from UNC to build houses for Habitat for Humanity. John is impressed by the group, especially their leader and organizer Tim. He goes to church with them and is impressed with their commitment to hard work and service. Especially Savannah. They spend a magical week under the stars, taking long walks on the beach, holding hands, sharing their innermost secrets, surfing, watching the stars and falling in love. Totally G rated. He leaves to go back to Germany where he is stationed. On his next leave he comes home and they still totally love each other. Savannah asks to meet John's Dad who he has this non existent relationship with. She is a student majoring special education and wants to someday have a horse ranch where Autistic kids can come and get therapy by caring and riding horses. She shares that Tim's brother is Autistic and that she and Tim worked with him and the joy he found in riding horses was amazing. She gives John a book on Asbergers syndrome because she is pretty sure John's Dad has it. It helps John over the years understand and grow closer to his Dad. John goes back to Germany and there is only 100 days until his enlistment in the army is over and they can be free to marry and have the life they are dreaming of. Then 9/11 happens. In the frenzy of patriotism and fear that gripped our country back then, John's whole unit re ups for two years and as their sergeant he does too. This squashes plans with Savannah. They get sent to Iraq and he spends two years seeing the most horrible things you can see. In the middle of it all he gets a letter from Savannah apologizing but explaining that she was proud of him but she fell in love with someone else and she was really sorry. He immediately re ups in the army for another two years. He never calls, never writes, just becomes the perfect soldier, carrying out super dangerous missions like a robot. In 2006 his Dad dies and he goes back to Wilmington. Because of his understanding of Asbergers, he's been really able to connect with his Dad. He feels that he needs to go see Savannah as well to make things right. He misses his best friend and he's feeling so alone in the world. She is happy to see him. She finally breaks it to him that she married Tim and that she loves him and they have a ranch that Autistic kids can use in their development. However...da da da....(cue dramatic music) Tim is in the hospital dying from melanoma. The only hope for Tim is an experimental treatment through Johns Hopkins but their insurance won't pay for it. Tim asks John privately to care and cherish Savannah after he dies. Instead, John gives the entire value of the coin collection his father built over his lifetime (which was a fortune) to save Time's life. The end of the book has John looking down on Tim and Savannah and their happiness. The morale of the story is that true love means you'll do anything to make sure the person is happy. He never contacts her again. They love each other but will never be together because time and circumstances just changed. He zigged and she zagged.

What is the point of this book people? I mean I'm left with the saddest most deflated feeling. It's just so depressing. It took you along on this amazing trip of love and heartache and then leaves you flat. What lies ahead for poor John? More tours in Iraq or Afghanistan and a life spent alone? I am so thankful for those lone soldiers who sacrifice having a family because it's too hard and I agree that divorce is a HUGE problem in the military and you do grow apart and you do change. But I just want to write a book about all of us who ARE making it. Those who still love their husbands even more than they did before they left. For some people, they feel called to serve their country. It's not a backup plan or something they fell into. For Mike at least, he wanted to be in the Air Force since he was a little boy. And I wouldn't love him if he gave that up because he wouldn't be him, not his true and authentic self. What about all those wives who are emailing their husbands every day and doing all they can to stay close and connected and who love their military spouses more than they ever could. Are couples automatically doomed because one partner chooses to serve in the military? This book made me sad. I told Mike about it. here was his HEARTLESS and totally boy/doctor response.

Well...melanoma is a funny kind of cancer. He might still have a chance because it can come back. Leave it to a heartless boy to come up with that. ugh.

The Great Ones

You might be surprised but very few people in this country say they have significant contact with someone on a personal level that is elderly. I think that is a travesty. Recently, my fiercely independent Grandma Bea was diagnosed with Alzheimer's Dementia. To watch her fold up is breath taking.

When I say fold up, it's a symbolical but also a physical condition that I have been witnessessing. My Gramz who was quick to laugh is less willing to do so. This woman who would descend into the kitchen and come out with culinary masterpieces is gone. This woman would could go to the downtown mall for six or nine hours and just shop is tired after one hour. Her physical body is folding up. She shrugs in her chair and shuffles and she walks. She is always sighing and blowing air from her lungs. She often is closing her eyes. She is not asleep. It's as though she's closing her eyes in hopes nothing will change and no one will tell her just one more thing to the long list of things she doesn't want to know. Eighty Nine. I wish with all my heart, I would have half the style and coolness of my Grandmother. I wish she could understand that life isn't over. That she has so much fun to be had. The fun will be at a little bit slower pace and it might be different fun than she used to but she can still have fun.

I used to swing from ropes tied onto trees out into the river. I would swing as high and I could go and let go and the ultimate pinnacle of height and excitement. Well guess what? I can't do that anymore. Their are parasites in the river, my upper body strength is gone and who would be watching my two little lovelies while I was out for an hour playing trapeze. We ALL give up stuff we used to do. It's called passages of time. Right now, for Gram it is so so hard and there is a grieving process that must be allowed to take place. But I hope she can find some friends and fun and grasp the knowledge that she is down but not out. I love my Grammie. I wish her all the best in whole world and I know she'll find her way,

SICK-ening sweet Valentines Day

Mike came home from work sick on Friday. Mike never comes home from work sick. One time during residency, he had to have IV fluids because he was so sick and he still made his rounds and saw his patients. He never calls out sick. When he came home on Friday, I didn't quite know what to do with the pile of husband who was shivering and had the chills and a fever and wanted to go to bed and was in a bad mood. So I dispatched him to bed under the delusion that he would still be taking the girls to the Lowe's Build and Grow workshop on Saturday morning. But then Jessica woke up at 5am sobbing telling us her nose hurt and that she was hot. Make that 104 degrees hot. Katie and I continued to make our Valentines Day preparations. We were switching the party from our house to my mom and dads. Then about noon, Katie got a fever. Mike was still shivering and whacked out. I called my Mom who was cleaning dungeness crab and preparing for our fun valentines day party. I told her I'd take my own car for the party so I could get back to Mike right away because he was really sick. She told me that they would bring our crab and bread to us and that I should stay home and take care of my family. I secretly gloated a little bit because for ONCE, people other than myself were sick and needed my care and help. I felt fine. I didn't rejoice in their pain just found it wonderful that I was not the one ruining all the plans. So my parents headed to Grandma Houlie's with their crab and salad and bread and they brought over cleaned and beautiful crab to our house. I waited until my little family awoke from their very long three hour nap. I cooked the crab, buttered the bread and prepared for a seafood feast. We ate until we were bursting. Crab in hot melted butter that was just beginning to brown. Fresh as can be crusty sourdough bread and green beans. Yummmoh. We ate and ate and ate. We cracked crab for the first 30 minutes just for the girls until they had enough to tie them over. They can eat crab faster than we can crack it. Once they started to slow down we began shoving it into our faces and making happy noises.

But then this morning I woke up with a 103 degree fever and feeling HORRIBLE. I should not have gloated or even thought for one second that I was not going to get sick. The Gods of Kharma sent me a loud and clear message...."wanna bet"? So now I am sick. So so sick. And my family is getting better.

But alas, all was not lost. Precious hand made Valentines were made by the girls for all those they love. They worked very hard on them and were very happy and proud to present them to loved ones. They were so happy with their Valentines bags of treats from school and they wore their candy and hearts night gowns that twirl all weekend. For them, they had a wonderful Valentines Day full of snuggles and time with their Dad and Me. We sang loving songs to each other and took turns telling each other all our favorite things about each other.

The thing I feel the worst about is my parents. They cleaned twelve dungeness crabs, they made a beautiful salad, they got dessert and bread and then had to cart it over to my Grandmas and didn't even get to see the girls. They presented them with presents of strawberry shortcake socks, new hooded towels and cute spring dresses. They worked and worked and worked for nothing. I apologized to them many times and my Dad kindly replied "it's okay, we'll get even." To my parents....I owe you guys. I promise not to plan anymore parties and I promise not to plan any more celebrations until I can get my act together. But in my defense...Mike never ever ever gets sick. So who could have seen that coming? Not me.

In any case, pinkalicious cupcakes were made for school, valentines were taken for school, crab and wonderful food was devoured, love songs were sung and it was a nice family time. Just different. Very un-glamorous. But loving just the same. Hope you had a wonderful v-day.

Apologies

The past few days have found me at my wits end in regards to the behavior of two little three year olds. They have refused to take a nap. When I suggested that they quietly rest while watching Wall-E or Ratatouille the jumped for joy, but instead of resting/watching, they jumped on the bed, acted like wild animals and just refused to obey anything I said. Bedtime brought on the same behavior of all around wildness, causing me to say a fervent prayer that they might by some miracle survive to reach the ripe old age of four. Today, my patience ran out and I got upset at them. I didn't shout but I was stern faced, strict sounding and tried my best to be a convincing authority figure when faced with their antics.

Later on, we talked about the situation in our house. I explained that I was the one who gave them everything in their lives they wanted. "You guys want stuff like going to preschool, your leapsters, eating yummy treats, watching your favorite shows on TV, reading books, having warm clothes, getting to play with bath toys and getting to play all day long. I, your MOM am the one who gives you all of these things you WANT. The only thing that I, your MOM wants from you is to obey and go to sleep for naps and bedtime when I want you to. If you do the thing I WANT, I will continue to do aaaaallllllllll the thing you guys want. Now, over the past two days, you guys HAVE NOT done what Mama wanted. So I'm going to stop doing the things you want for a little while." I illustrated this by not allowing Jessica to take a sip of my can of Diet Coke. I reminded her that she WANTED sip of Diet Coke but she did not do what I WANTED today so I was not going to do what she wanted. (We can debate the whole Diet Coke thing later people)

Katie responded to this talk exactly as my genius parenting mind anticipated. She exclaimed with sincerity and much feeling "Mama, I am SO SO SO sorry for not obeying you. I will never do that again and I will be better." This was accompanied with a hug and a kiss. I promptly responded to her by saying "Katie, and I am so sorry I got upset today. I will try and have more patience and understand that you are little and excited and I will be better about not getting upset." Hugs, kisses all around and the world was 50% right again. Jessica was behind the couch climbing on her Dad. "Jessica, honey...", I said hopefully. "Is there anything you'd like to say to Mama?" She giggled and it was obvious she totally knew what I was getting at. "Ummmm, Jessica...can you apologize too?" I asked. "Sorry sorry sorry", she said in a joking voice that held a hint of sarcasm. Not the apology I hoped for. "Jessica", I said, "when you apologize to someone, it's important to really mean it and use your big girl words. I'll go first so you can know how to do it. I am very sorry Jessica that I got upset today and I want you to know I'll try harder not to do that anymore." I looked at her dancing in her zipped up pink fleece footie pajamas, blue eyes dancing, knowing she was going to be really really cute when she finally let her apology rip. "Jessica" I said again, "it's your turn now. Go ahead." She took a deep breath and very sincerely said "Mama, I'm very sorry you got upset today." Mike busted up laughing and so did I, although my laughter was mixed with mirth and frustration. At that point, I gave up and instead took a gigantic guzzle of my Diet Coke and exclaimed "AAAAAAAHHH!" in satisfaction after I drank. She got my point. Indeed I really think she got my point.

Score:
Mom 1
Jessica 1

Battle to be continued tomorrow.

Mrs. Who?

I was reading over on my favorite blog of all time Pioneer Woman and she was featuring an old cookbook posted by the women of her home town during her childhood. She was giving the cookbook credit for the basis and start of her life of cooking. Now that she's publishing her own cookbook, it was nice for all of her readers (like me) to see where it all started. I'm sure we all have one of these spiral bound, community published cookbooks somewhere in our collection. I have two. One given to be for my bridal shower, by a nice older lady with a blond bun who wore perfectly pressed denim skirts and white blouses, published by the Junior League of Sacramento. I have used it often and love this cookbook. The other one I have that I love is the Sanchez Family cookbook, a collection of recipes from the descendants of my Great Great Grandparents.

In the Junior League cookbook that I have and the one PW featured on her blog today, the women submitted recipes using their husband's name. As in Mrs. John Rutherford and Mrs. Henry Albright. This seems so strange to me and I began to really contemplate my comfort level in regards to my identity.

It was very hard for me to give up being Amy Oliver. Amy Oliver was someone I liked. She was strong and funny. She played third base in softball and debated everything from politics to the creation of the earth. She slept in on weekends and liked to match her bubblegum to her outfit. Her eyebrows were untweezed yet surprisingly shapely. I didn't want to give her up. When I got married it took me 2 years to change my drivers license over to Amy Meeker. I wouldn't have changed it at all but it expired. I think that it is revealing that I still carry this old driver's license in my wallet. The one with the name Amy Oliver. My excuse is that I might have to prove somewhere that it used to me my name. It irritates me sometimes that my name is Amy Meeker. When I got this name, I didn't even know her, this Amy Meeker person. What if she turned into someone I didn't like? What if she didn't like sushi or Judy Blume books? It's been rough going for Amy Meeker sometimes...she figured out who she was along the way, but it was not without blood, sweat and tears.

I remember the first time someone referred to me as Mrs. Meeker. I looked at them blankly. They repeated my name. I looked over my shoulder for my mother in law. SHE is Mrs. Meeker after all. I called her that for months until she asked me to call her Marilyn. Surely, the person was looking for her. I can not, for the life of me imagine referring to myself as Mrs. Mike Meeker. Or if I was more pretentious Mrs. Major Mike Meeker. Or if I was really feeling insecure and feeling like a total loser Dr. and Mrs. Mike Meeker??? Oh good gravy, how awfully stupid that sounds.

So, internet, I ask you this. Is it strange that I find the idea of my identity being tied to the fact that I am Mike's wife insulting? I am proud of Mike. I like, no I love being married to him. But who he is and what he does for a living has nothing to do with me...Amy...the lover of Meg Ryan movies and cold, foggy beaches. After all...Mike Meeker is an entirely different person. He is good at math and likes country fried streak for crying out loud! I feel as though if I was okay with being called Mrs. Mike Meeker then it would be like announcing to the world that I was in fact... Mrs. Mike "I love video games and am a morning person" Meeker. I am none of these things. I am not thin and do not have eyes that crinkle when I smile. I am not analytical or fidgety. I don't swerve in and out of traffic. It creeps me out when I think about being Mrs. ANYBODY even though marrying Mike was the best decision I ever made.

I guess the morale of the story is that I'm glad times have changed. Even though I am a fan of many retro type things like Audrey Hepburn movies, red lipstick and pearls...I think it's a GOOD thing that we don't go around addressing ourselves by our husband's name. It just gives me the heebies.



Love,

Amy or Aim or Aims or Aimster but most definitely NOT Mrs. Mike Meeker. eeewww. it's just gross.

Boys vs. Girls According to Jessica and a boy at her preschool...

Jessica told me the facts about boys and girls today in the loudest voice you can ever imagine. This is the deal in case you were wondering.

"MOM! DID YOU KNOW BOYS AND GIRLS ARE THE SAME?! ESS-CEPT FOR BOYS STAND UP WHEN THEY GO PEE PEE AND GIRLS SIT DOWN! BECAUSE BOYS HAVE A PEE PEE AND GIRLS HAVE A TOTE! BUT BOYS AND GIRLS ARE THE SAME CUZ WE ARE SMART THE SAME AND FAST THE SAME AND FUNNY THE SAME MAMA! ESS-CEPT YOU AND DADDY SAID BOYS HAVE A PEE PEE BUT A BOY AT MY PRESCHOOL SAID HE HAS A PEAN-WISH!!!"

It starts early these days. Attention to all the ladies out there...watch out for the pean-wish.

Never in my life did I think...

When Katie and Jessica were babies, we presented them with Sophie and Clarice. I've written about Sophie and Clarice before and explained who they were, how they got their names and what they mean to us. I won't duplicate the information here except to say Sophie and Clarice are Jessica and Katie's babies. They take them everywhere. They sleep with them every night. They have done this since they were about 5 months old. My biggest nightmare that I can ever imagine is losing Sophie or Clarice. Except of course for losing Katie and Jessica.

Today, we lost Clarice. She was in the van on the way to pick up the girls from preschool. She was missing when we got home and went to go down for a nap. We looked everywhere for her in the house and van. I went back to preschool and searched the parking lot for Clarice. The lost and found office was closed. I banged on the door in hysterical tears until some lady in a back office came and answered. I was sobbing. She asked me to wait until she got off the phone. I was praying the whole time. I was asking the Lord to please help me on behalf of Jessica because I could not go back to my Mom and Dad's where she was and tell her Clarice was gone. I used to fear losing them because it would mean I wouldn't get any sleep ever again. But now that I am less sleep deprived and the girls are older, I was only thinking of Jessica's grief if she were to lose Clarice. I imagined her face and how stressed out she was when her Dad was gone and how she just got her family back in tact and now I was going to rip it apart forever. Clarice was not in the Lost and Found. Just as I burst into tears my Dad called. He found Clarice. She was stuffed inside Jessica's pants that she had taken off and were inside out when we were changing her for her nap. She was stuck in the pants.

The joy I felt is indescribable. Thus, we come to the title of this post. NEVER, and I mean NEVER EVER in my life did I think I would be in a hysterical sobbing state due to the misplacement of satin blanket with the head of a rabbit that is tattered torn and most often dirty. Oh Clarice, I am so glad you are home and we found you. Yay for answered prayers!!!

Dear Katie and Jessica

Dear Girls,

It's been a long while since I've written you a letter and I thought today would be a good day. We spent this Monday like we spend most Mondays. We snuggled in bed and watched cartoons this morning, we had cereal at the big table together, you cleaned your play room while I picked up the house to get ready for little Luz to come tomorrow and clean. We read some books, you guys played Leapsters, you took naps in separate rooms. You helped me make dinner by sprinkling garlic salt and mashing potatoes. While the Shepherd's pie was in the oven, we took baths, had spa time and got you dressed in pajama salad which you both requested. While you were naked and the bath was filling, you enjoyed a rousing game of bum tag. You both think you are hilarious. Daddy and I are in total agreement with you. We think you are the two funniest people we have ever known.

Right now, you both are really into preschool, pretend games that you make up and spending time with your Daddy. Jessica, you are particularly nervous that Daddy will have to go away again. Daddy leaves you and Katie a handwritten note taped on our door every morning before he leaves for work letting you know that he is at work close by our house and that he'll be home when it gets dark and that you guys will play then. Katie, you don't care about these notes but they seem to really work to reassure Jessica. Both of you love your Leapster video learning games. Before I became you Mom I promised myself I would never buy video games for my kids. But then I had you guys and I found I needed some time during the day to do important things like read my People magazine, post on my blog, shop online etc. So now we are all in love with your Leapster games. Your favorite games are I Spy and Ratatouille. It's amazing to watch you play these games. Somehow, with no help from me, you have learned to spell, read, do math, learn about science and your vocabulary has expanded amazingly. In addition to Leapsters, you both are obsessed with Guitar Hero. You and Daddy play it every night when he gets home. You guys each take a color and Dad strums the guitar. Everything that you think is cool is automatically a "rock star".

You make up the most amazing games to play with each other. I have no idea why you have an entire room with toys in it. All you guys want to do is play with blankets and pillows and make forts and pretend you are going to a wedding, on a soccer team, hiding from Monsters, saving animals in trouble and wrestling and chasing each other all over the house. You love to take pillows and make swimming pools that you can jump into or paths or bridges. Most of your day is spent playing some sort of pretend game together. When the weather is good, you love riding your trikes in our culdesac and going to the moo cow park with your friend mooey. You love your Grandparents and you make up cheers all the time about how you love your family. Katie, you especially like to make up songs and cheers. Both of you love to draw. Grandpa Meeker brings you paper from work that is from the trash cans and you guys draw and color on one side. You have filled up gigantic bins full of your drawings. Your favorite thing to draw is our family or to have me draw a Christmas tree and then you draw all the ornaments, presents and top.

Right now, it's 8:30 and you guys are playing Hungry Hippo with your Dad. It's so much fun for me to watch you guys and Dad play. I know you probably wonder why I don't jump in and insist that I play too. Sometimes I play with you guys, but mostly when Daddy gets home from work, I let you guys have him to yourselves. You'll understand why I did this if you are ever lucky enough to have daughters. You have me to yourselves all day. And it's important time. But it's also important that you build a relationship with Daddy that is separate from me. I love the time we play together as a family when all four of us are together. These are my favorite times that I have in my life. But I especially love watching you and how much fun you have with your Dad. You both are still on cloud 9 that he has come home. So am I.

Tonight, you will make your lines, get a treat and we'll prepare for the bedtime routine. Your bedtime consists of going potty, doing the picking game, singing three songs, each person saying a prayer, drinks of water, a wind up music thingy being turned on that was on your mobile when you were babies in your crib and that you can't go to bed without, the light of the laundry room being left on and several attempts by Katie to stall the process as long as she can. Every night, after you are tucked in, we hear you guys talking and laughing. You sometimes talk for a long time. As long as you stay quiet and stay in bed, we let you have this precious time together. I love listening at your door to you guys talking about all sorts of things from preschool, to Dora the Explorer to how much you love each other. If we let you go too long, inevitably, the volume will increase and you will start to jump on your beds and throw stuffed animals back and forth into each others beds. I never tell you this, but I love when you do this too. I know I come in all stern faced and strict and tell you that you have to go to sleep, but I enjoy your late night fun.

Okay, right now, you both and Dad have on your Wonderpet capes. Daddy just called my cell phone so it would ring. You guys ran into answer it with him. A puppy was in trouble. You guys rode in an imaginary fly boat to save the upside down puppy. It's so funny to watch you guys because you are so excited! You are each doing your parts to the WonderPets with Dad being Linny the Guinea Pig, Katie being Tuck the Turtle and Jessica being Ming Ming the Duck. I think of all the things you guys play, this is your favorite. I'm looking forward to your WonderPet birthday party this year. I'll let you wear your capes. It will only be much later that you will be upset with me for letting you wear them. But if you can't think you are a Super Hero when you are three years old, when can you?

I love you both more than you will ever know. I am really having fun with you guys each and every day. You are fun and happy girls. I hope you'll think we gave you a good childhood. There's never been anything more important to either me or Dad. You won't understand this either until you become a parent. It sometimes hurts to love you so much. But in a great way.

Have fun my girls. I will be watching you and having as much fun as you are. Even if I have to act like I am enforcing the rules.

Love and Kisses,

Mama

In The Moment...

On Friday afternoon I had an Endoscopy. It's a camera on a tube that they stick down your throat, through your stomach and into your small intestine. They did this to me because of the iron deficient anemia I was diagnosed with this Fall. They were checking to make sure I wasn't bleeding from someplace inside. Glad to report I am not and the test was 100% A.O.K. But as you can imagine, I was feeling lousy and had a very sore throat this weekend. We spent the entire weekend at home and I was blessed with the wonderful feeling of being in the moment and enjoying whatever was going on right then. Dishes were done when we felt like doing them, we scrounged the cabinets for food, we watched movies and cleared out our TiVO.

The girls are going through Mike's training program on Guitar Hero. Jessica told me she is going to be a "Rock Legend". Katie told me she is a "Rock Star" and she even dressed up her puppy dog as a Rock Puppy, with a baseball hat sideways, a red hoodie, a flashlight (?) and 3-D glasses. The girls drew tons of pictures, played their Leapsters and were content to just hang out with us. Mike and I snuggled on the couch, paused Battlestar Gallactica like twenty times to discuss our theories. (I know, we are BIG geeks) It was one of those kinds of weekends that I really missed.

Transition

Just when I think my life is perfect, my kids are well, the weight in my chest has gone away because half of me has returned and I feel whole again...my flawed character begins to come in and mess stuff up. The unpacked boxes from Afghanistan start to get on my nerves. I have less closet space and why should I have to give up my jeans drawer? He deleted photoshop on accident but none the less deleted. He wants me to cook dinner. Like more than once per week. And the little thoughts come creeping into my brain that the girls and I had a routine and a system and I never had to wait around for someone to get home (late) for work with expectations. Then, something happens to stop me in my tracks, crush the air out of my lungs and causes me to feel so so very thankful.

Mike's brother is deploying to the desert for way longer than Mike was gone. More than double the time Mike was away in fact. And his wife and two children are stationed in an area with no family nearby. And they just moved there. So they haven't had time to make friends. And my heart breaks for my sister in law who isn't a sister in law at all but a sister. And for my niece and nephew who were just my niece and nephew yesterday but who are extensions of my girls and who I feel are in part mine today. Because I've been there. And, well, I just feel sad. And guilty. Because I feel so grateful. And suddenly, unpacked boxes and resistance to iPhones and hogging Guitar Hero seem like such petty issues because they are.

In honor of our brother and sister, let's all be nicer to our spouses. Let's cut them some slack. Let's not sweat the small stuff. I hereby dedicate every kiss goodnight to them. I will shut my mouth and not pick or nag. I will be happy that I am whole. And I will be there for my sister. Like she was there for me. I can't tell you how many times she told me I wasn't a loser and how many times she told me it was understandable how I was feeling and she mostly listened. She was great. And I wish I wasn't going to return the favor but I will. I love her and she is strong and independent. And she will be great. But in case she has moments when she doesn't feel great I will be there to talk to. And for once in my life I will not talk. I will listen.

We have five GOOD friends and family who are either deployed or getting ready to go. That's 14 kids going to bed without a parent. . Five wives who are holding it all together all alone. It's just too much. It has to stop.

41 Years...how thankful I am.

My parents were married to each other 41 years ago today. The sheer weight of that number truly astounds me. First, it means they are old enough to have been married that long and second and more amazingly, I am old enough to be a child of people who have been married 41 years. I couldn't let today pass without taking a moment to express my gratitude to my parents who stuck it out for this long. I have been married a meager sixteen years and there have been times when I wanted to run away and join the circus. I called my Dad one time when Mike was in his first semester of med school, was failing gross anatomy and I was convinced we would never see each other again because medicine was rapidly consuming the man that used to belong to me. I told my Dad I was coming home from Washington DC. It was no secret I was miserable and that things were hard and different. I don't think my Dad wondered what I meant when I said "I think I'm coming home." He told me okay. Then my Mom got on the other extension and told me in no uncertain terms that I was NOT coming home and that I needed to stay there and fix it. So I did. I can't even imagine what would have happened had she allowed me to run away from my marriage and hide all the way in California. You might think I am disappointed now that I have hindsight that my Dad didn't react the same way as my Mom. But I'm not. He reacted the way a Dad should. My Mom reacted the way a Mom should. And that has been the story of my life as their child. I wanted to write this wonderful post about their marriage and how they are best friends and how they do everything together instead of having a bunch of friends and how my Mom still laughs at my Dad's jokes and how my Dad still does what my Mom wants not because he's scared of her but because he wants her to be happy. All of these things are true but they sort of creep me out even writing them. See, I can only write an anniversary tribute to my parents from the experience I've had as their child. They will always be my Mom and Dad, not a married couple. I think, if you are lucky and hit the parent lottery, that you don't see your parents as this great romance story as a kid. If you are lucky, you don't really "see" them at all. Because you don't have to. You get to just be a kid. Your family is your family, food is on the table, homework is nagged about, you get in trouble when you get bad grades and grounded for sneaking boys into the house. You skate on bright white leather skates through the neighborhood and every Friday night at the local roller rink. Only now do I realize that there were people giving up their Friday nights to cart me and my friends to the roller rink and pick us up and deliver a car load of girls to their respective houses. I realize now that there were people coaching my softball team even though they had full time jobs. I realize now that someone hung all my campaign signs in the cafeteria when I was running for Student Council. My parents were behind the scenes helping me have the most normal stable childhood as possible.

My parents fought but not in a mean way. They loved but never in a mushy gushy way (gross). They championed my dreams for whatever I wanted to do. But my focus was totally and completely on myself. Because I was a kid.

So I guess what I want to say is thanks to my mom and dad for giving me a childhood in which I didn't notice you that much. You held it together and always encouraged me by being there and putting in the long hours required of good parents.

All I can do to show my parents that I learned from them is to have a marriage that honors theirs. No matter what, we will stick it out and if it gets bad again we will fix it. And we are good friends and would rather spend time together rather than with someone else. We love our kids and are trying to provide them with a home and family that is stable and safe in which they never have to wonder if we'll always be a family or not. I think this is a great gift we can give them.

Thanks for hanging in there you guys. It mattered a lot to me as your kid. Way to go. Good job. Well done. And many many more...

Sonoma Mission Inn French Toast

I've been searching for a French Toast recipe for a long time. I have tried a lot of recipes. I have recently learned that it is not that I haven't had the right recipe, but my technique is all wrong. I have discovered that perfect French Toast is about more than just the egg dip recipe. It's about the right bread, the right egg dip, the right dipping and cooking technique and the right toppings all coming together in one harmonious dish that balances these various components perfectly so that you bite into it and know it's the best French Toast you have ever had. I have tried baked French Toast (great), multi grain French Toast (good), spa French Toast rolled in egg whites and crushed cornflakes (excellent). But the BEST French Toast, the french toast that will make the angels sing and will cause you to weep joyous tears of gratitude. Up until now, this French Toast only existed at the Sonoma Mission Inn just outside of Napa. But after two mornings of talking to their chef and asking for tips and after making it three times now, I can assure you that the perfect French Toast can be found in YOUR VERY OWN KITCHEN after following these few simple tests.

The Academy Award Nominated Cast of Ingredients:

Thickly sliced sourdough bread. (I bought a round loaf and sliced it too thick for a sandwich but not super dooper thick. Use about 3/4 of a round loaf for four people for breakfast)

3 eggs beaten with a whisk

1/4 cup of cream (table or whipping cream is best - not Heavy Cream or Half & Half)

1 tsp sugar

1/2 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp nutmeg

1/4 tsp either orange or lemon peel (in the spice aisle or 1/4 tsp of fresh orange or lemon zest)

1 tsp butter for each slice of toast

1/2 tsp sugar for each slice of toast

Powdered sugar to sprinkle

1/4 cup chopped strawberries for each slice of toast

Extra creamy redi-whip or fresh whipped cream lightly sweetened

Slice your bread. If possible slice it the night before and leave it out so it dries out. With a whisk, beat the eggs, cream, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg and lemon peel as fast as you can for about a minute. In a nonstick skillet, melt a tsp of butter for each slice of bread over medium high heat. Allow the butter to slightly brown and then sprinkle a tsp of sugar over the butter for each slice of bread. You won't stir the sugar into the butter so when you sprinkle the sugar, do so evenly over the melted butter. Allow the sugar and butter to brown a little bit more. Dip the bread into the egg/cream mixture. Do not SOAK the bread. All you need to do is dip it on each side and place it in the pan. You should get a nice "sizzle" sound when it hits the pan. It will brown quickly on each side. When it is brown on each side, turn the heat down to low to medium low. Continue cooking until the egg is completely cooked throughout the bread and it dries out a little bit. Top hot french toast with powdered sugar, a 1/3 cup of chopped strawberries (don't just slice the strawberries. Slice them, then cut the slice in half so it resembles a rough chop) and whipped cream. Prepare to make inappropriate noises and fight the urge to run away and elope with your French Toast.

SUPERbowl

When I married Mike I was a football fan. I had loved the San Francisco 49ers since I was eleven years old and Joe Montana threw the catch to Dwight Clark for a touchdown in the final minutes of the playoffs against the Cowboys which I watched at Jenny Sanchez's house. It's one of those moments in history that you will always remember where you were at when it happened. When I married Mike he was a baseball fan. His family did not watch TV on Sundays so watching football only happened on Monday nights.

This has changed. To understand the extend to which this has changed is to understand the climate of the country when George Washington was President to understanding the country now under President Obama. Mike is insane about football. He follows both college and professional football. He can tell you how any given team is doing at any given time and he TiVos game upon game and sports center and presses fast forward until a play begins so he can watch a game in 1/4 of the time it takes to be played so he has the time to watch multiple games on any given weekend.

His brother Ron LOVES the Steelers. Mike has always "liked" the Steelers as much as any other team so when he got into football he discovered he loved coach Bill Cowher of the Steelers and quickly became a Steeler fan along with his brother. Ron was actually AT the Superbowl today. He wanted Mike to go and for the record I did too. But Mike said he just got home and didn't want to be away from us again so soon. I think that's super sweet of him but I still would have supported him going.

Needless to say, it was a fantastic game with a very happy ending for the Meekers. We watched the game at my parents house. They made all Cuban food since the game was in Florida and Cuban cuisine is a regional staple there. Everything from the appetizers to the meal was fabulous and we had a great time rooting for the Steelers and watching the girls do cheers that we taught them. Jennifer Hudson did an amazing job on the National Anthem and both the Steelers and Cardinals played a fantastic game. I'm very happy for Ron that he got to be there in person because he has loved the Steelers all his life.

Oh and the point of the whole post is that because Mike is now psycho about football, I don't even like it anymore. I like the last quarter of the superbowl and that's about it. I am a football widow from October until January and football fills up my DVR and I can't record any shows and football just bugs the crap out of me now. Sometimes I feel like standing up and yelling "hey, you didn't even LIKE football when I married you so it's no fair that you watch it on Saturday AND Sunday and that I have to tell everyone we know not to tell you the score of the games until you finish watching them on TiVO and that you track all the stats and blah blah blah." So to football I say, "I hate you for stealing my husband." Is it irony that his favorite team is the Steelers? I think not.