Why I'm loving November

I remember being much younger, sitting in a full theater, watching moms cry while their teen daughters danced on stage. I chalked it up to them simply being proud parents.

But, now, as my own daughter dances in her first Nutcracker, I realize it's a little more than that. These days, I struggle to believe that she's 5, let alone that she stands in five ballet positions. She's wearing stage makeup for the first time. She's performing in her first costumes. She's a little girl now.

And I probably don't have to tell you that I cried the first time I dusted pink blush on her cheeks and when I sewed her first costume. We've just come so far together, and we've withstood so many struggles in her 5 years. There were days during her infancy when I felt like I couldn't get anything right. But rocking her and singing Beatles' songs seemed to work, so I'd do it for hours. Then she was 2, and it seemed like we couldn't go to the store without some personal crisis involving Dora the Explorer. Then she was 4 and became the sweetest, little preschooler. Now she's 5, and I feel days away from the mom crying in the theater.

Because I know it's not just about that moment on stage. It's about these ones too. It's about remembering how amazed I was watching her first ballet classes, driving her to rehearsals as we had true mother-daughter time, somehow learning to sew everything I've needed to sew, putting makeup on her for the first time, and hearing that precious, "Look at me mom! I'm a ballerina!"

For all of my screwups, there are just some promises I won't break. One is that I would get this right (which is always a work in progress). Another (to Carrie's Mom) is that I would never these moments for granted. And I don't. I'm always so aware of their value.

So please afford me some hormonal leverage here when I just have to take pause in the lobby of a dance studio, watching my 5-year-old daughter kick off her Mary Janes for ballet shoes and my 21-month-old son explore the room in curiosity. I'm constantly amazed that I'm blessed with them and constantly thankful for every second we share together.

And I'm loving November for this kind of clarity.
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I had a full heart on election night. It's the third time I was of age to vote in a presidential election, and this time, my guy won. I felt like I did my part--I voted, was active in my community and spent a fair amount of time among Anderson Cooper and David Gergen (thank you, DVR).

Once the result was called and President-elect Obama spoke from Grant Park, I couldn't help but think of Mike Royko. Mr. Royko was the best columnist I've ever read. He lived through and covered so much of Chicago's history, from the struggles of the Cubs to the violence that once filled Grant Park. How amazing it would've been to read his words about Chicago's son leading the free world.

And I felt hopeful and proud and optimistic and like I could finally relax. Not just because someone who can pronounce "nuclear" will be in the Oval Office, but because there's just a new vision for this country.

Things are getting better, and that's why I'm loving November.
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November means a lot of birthdays for our family, and, so far, they've been happy ones.

As some of you know, Cienna celebrated a milestone birthday by leading a fundraiser for Children's Hospital. Last week, we donated 250 books to Child Life, and it felt really good. She learned so much from doing it, and I can only hope this kind of good will stays in her heart.

Family and friends attended her "royal ball," and the majority of us dressed up. Even though we asked for books in lieu of gifts, she still got a lot. I'm still not sure that she's put down the camera from Malik and Michelle, and her roster of dolls now rivals that of the Steelers (including their practice squad!)

She and two of her friends from ballet class dressed like Disney Princesses, and leave it to my graceful angel to somehow rip her dress so severely that her butt was showing by the time we got home that evening! But she had fun, and that was all that mattered.

My 28th birthday was much less of a milestone, but it was still pretty great. I think I ended up with three small parties somehow--one with family the Sunday before my birthday, one with Larry and the kids on my birthday, and some friends surprised us with cake and a present at a housewarming dinner party on Saturday.

Oh, and part of that Saturday included the Pens game and watching "Christmas Vacation" afterward! Who could ask for more?!

I love my family and have the best friends, and that's why I'm loving November.
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I will not confirm or deny whether or not the inside of our house is decorated for Christmas. And I will not confirm or deny whether or not I've been listening to Christmas music.

But I will categorically admit to the fact that my Christmas movie basket is in the proper place and a lineup has been decided upon. Sometimes I get so excited about my Christmas movies that I hug the DVD boxes.

I encourage everyone to a sort of Christmas playlist for both music and movies. And it's OK (in fact, it's recommended) to include movies and songs on the list that simply remind you of the season or just have that Christmastime feel. For example, "Miracle" and "When Harry Met Sally" are not Christmas movies, but they've been on my list for a long time. Both include Christmas scenes and include healthy doses of winter. Plus, they have feel-good endings.

This month kicks off the holiday season, and that's why I'm loving November.
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Holidays inspire a lot of camaraderie, and it can make for much-loved memories.

This past weekend, during a Nutcracker rehearsal, I was in the sewing circle with some ballet moms. One of them is an OB/GYN, and despite her professional history, she's new to sewing costumes. She said, "This is challenging, really. I mean, I could take your uterus out, but I struggle with this lace."

Loved it. And that's why I'm loving November!

Stay the course

--Friends, please don't read this if you're not registered to vote. Use this time now to go through the simple process of registering to vote online instead of reading my blog. I'm only going to tell you how important it is to vote this year anyway.

SERIOUSLY! Every day, there's a new dismal report about our economy and how thousands of Americans are losing their jobs and pensions, while millions lose their homes. It saddens me to see how unstable this country has become.

I don't believe that either presidential candidate will be able to get into office and change things right away. So don't expect to find a savior in a public servant. The economy will get worse before it gets better. Our housing market will hit rock bottom, and maybe during, say, Obama's second term we will start to see some true improvement.

A girl, who is a few years my junior, was asking me if I thought there would be another Great Depression. I said, "For some Americans, it already is. For others, it soon will be. For the precious few, it never will be. And for the rest of us, it will just be shitty for a while." We shared what we knew of the Great Depression, stories passed down, generation to generation. Then she said, "You think I'd have to sell my purse?" Referring to her choice of designer handbags, cell phone skins, sunglasses and footwear, I said, "You do realize you're a complete douchebag? If it got to the point where you had to sell that thing, it would have no value."

But I do love that girl because she's very kind, just simply and genuinely kind. She's all labeled out because she feels like she has to be. It's a matter of competition and attraction. And I can appreciate our differences.

Our differences, by the way, are vast. I've been known to leave authentic Gucci bags on a garage floor, while Target and TJ Maxx couture were nestled safely in my closet. And those Gucci bags? All gifts. Gifts from someone who gave that kind of stuff away at Christmastime like they were candy canes. I'd never buy something like that for myself. I'm not sure I would want it.

And that was before I had kids.

--The eternal optimist in me has high hopes for my children--and yours. Take a look at history, and you'll see why. Each generation has its tragedy, its turning point, its pivotal moment. One day, I believe we'll look back to see that 9/11 really did change everything for us--most of us were just upperclassmen in college. Innocence and naivity were lost.

But a lot of beauty was gained:

I remember sitting in my PR class, next to Incorvati, watching the second plane crash, after hearing the first one on my walkman during my short trip to Academic Hall. We were casual friends, class friends. That day we held hands.

Later, in my dorm room, among my best friends, I watched CNN and network news stations repeat horrible truths and replay horrifying images. That evening we walked the Boulevard of the Allies, as allies, and made it to The Point, looking back at our city, reflecting on the day, praying for our countrymen, silently thankful that it wasn't our skyline.

We all grew up a little that day--and so much more since then. We've suffered irreplacable losses in our families, we've become husbands and wives, moms and dads, full-time employees and homeowners. We've done it all during "trying times."

And I really do believe that if we stay the course, refuse to lose hope, work hard and treat each other well, we will live to see our children and loved ones live out their dreams without the challenge of doing it during "trying times."

--I've enjoyed that my life has been such a way that I can have an incredible phone conversation with my best friend while picking up a pizza, and 10 minutes later I can be meeting two incredible people for the first time.

--Color matching is so much fun. I've found some very interesting shades that are unbelievably beautiful with teal. Teal! It's also true that if you mismatch a color with teal, it's a huge disaster.

--Cienna is doing so well with school. I'm so incredibly proud of her and constantly wonder where her life's journey will lead.

--You already know how beyond thrilled I am for fall, so I won't go into that.

--Planning Cienna's 5th birthday is a lot of fun.

--Talking about Cienna in The Nutcracker is also fun.

--I'm looking forward to a certain new beginning. More to come...

In the Park

Quick to judge

If I could offer any advice to the experts, pundits and folks with nothing better to do than gossip, it would be this: Be careful whom you judge and how you judge them.

I'm not entirely sure why John McCain picked Sarah Palin as his running mate, but I am intrigued that he chose her among a more-qualified pool of Republican candidates. That's not to say that Palin isn't qualified at all, but I wouldn't be comfortable having her as president of the United States. She just doesn't share my political values.

I don't care that she has five children and a demanding career. To me, that doesn't make her a less qualified politician. Many successful politicians have balanced personal lives with political lives. And the only time anyone raises a question of priorities is when it's a mother making the tough choices. Let me tell you something, folks--mothers have been making tough choices for a long time.

Palin's daughter has started making those tough choices. And my heart truly goes out to her. I know how challenging it was to be pregnant at 22 and a single mom at 23. From my best understanding--through research and friendships--it's all the more difficult as a teenager.

And because it is so hard, it really breaks my heart to see some of the coverage of a personal family issue. Morning talk shows have been hosting teen forums, discussing sex and unplanned pregnancies. As though it's something new. As though their network news will have a positive impact.

Evening talk shows have been featuring hurtful jokes, such as, "It's a good thing Governor Palin is a member of the NRA because it's going to be a shotgun wedding."

Hilarious.

As someone familiar with shotgun weddings, let me tell you that they happen all the time--even when there's not a baby involved. Is constantly nagging a guy to marry you because all of your friends are getting married any less pressure? Is threatening a breakup if there's not a ring by a certain date really fair? It's certainly not romantic.

It's usually a little more romantic when a baby is involved because sometimes there's more of a choice. In fact, I know of at least one man who had many options presented to him by a pregnant girl who didn't believe marriage yielded good parenting. She gave him choices. The man chose to be married. He wanted to be married.

Palin's daughter, Bristol, says that she's going to be married to the baby's father--a young man who previously listed he did not want kids on his MySpace page. According to a marriage professor at Duquesne University, 95 percent of marriages that begin before the couple is 21 years old do not last. Well, half of all marriages after 21 don't last either. And can we really find it so hard to believe that an opinion someone writes on a MySpace page might change?

I'm not stunned by any of the week's past news--something I attribute to growing up in journalism and also just growing as a person. I'm not surprised that a 17-year-old girl had unprotected sex and got pregnant. I'm not surprised that the daughter of a conservative, pro-life governor is having a baby.

What does surprise me is that so many people can pass judgement on the situation. What does surprise me is that we still debate sex education vs. abstinence, yet fail to set up resources and effective programs to help young mothers.

Pro-life politicians damn those who don't keep their babies, yet vote against bills proposed by pro-choice advocates to help those mothers succeed without regretting their decisions. It would be too much work to actually care. Sitting back, reading tabloids, gossiping about it--that's much more convenient. Coming up with an opinion is easy. Coming up with a solution takes some effort.

I'm an opinionated person, but I'm not nearly as judgemental as I used to be. And I work for what I believe in and for what I believe will help others.

So when someone emailed me, "Does it bother you that Governor Palin's 17-year-old daughter is pregnant?" I didn't hesitate to answer.

"Yes it does. But not because a republican vice presidental candidate's daughter is about to have a baby. I care because another teenager is becoming a young mother. I care because I was a week shy of 23 when Cienna was born. And I care because I have children. And they will undoubtedly face decisions as they grow up--some of which may be challenging."

I've faced a great deal of judgement with each pregnancy, and with each pregnancy, others' opinions have mattered less and less. If the commentary doesn't come from my family, friends or physicians, it doesn't affect me. And I can only hope Bristol Palin feels the same.

But these wishes extend beyond Bristol Palin. They also affect other young women in our communities, facing tough decisions. The decisions are just as important--sometimes moreso--even though they're not psuedo-celebrities.

A young, unmarried mom I talked to this week said, "It just hurts so bad. I hear what they say about her, and I know what they say about me. But they don't even know me. They don't know what's in my heart."

I've heard this kind of thing often during my research and outreach. And I'm quick to remind women that unplanned doesn't mean unwanted. Women shouldn't be damned or shunned for loving their child enough to give them life. They shouldn't feel badly for believing that love will guide them. Nor should they be denied the right to make a different decision.

There has only ever been one decision for me. I believe children are a blessing and gift from God.

But not every woman has chosen what I have, and I respect that.

What I cannot respect are groups of women who have never been parents, passing judgement on those of us who are mothers. Or people who have never done an unselfish thing in their lives looking down on a woman who chooses to do what's best for her baby.

People aren't perfect; they're just people. And people have different experiences. We can choose to be open to those experiences. We can choose to be supportive. We can choose to be friends. Or we can choose the alternatives to those.

In nearly every situation, I've chosen to follow my heart. And, sometimes, it's led me to some interesting places. But mostly it's led to me to beautiful places.

Despite that, I've made poor choices in my lifetime. I've hurt people when I didn't mean to. I've taken when I couldn't give back. I've judged others prematurely. And it inspired some regret.

But I have never wished I never had a child, or waited until a different time. I have never wished I had time back that I spent helping another woman.

My life is blessed, and I haven't taken a day of it for granted. Cienna, Ty and our baby are gifts. There are challenging days, but there are incredibly beautiful years. I'm so thankful for every moment I spend with them. I'm so happy that Larry is taking this journey with me. I wouldn't trade anything. And I'm not intimidated by a full house.

It doesn't seem like the Palins are intimidated by a full house either.

Maybe they know that a full house grows full hearts.

Healing, In no particular order

BFF, BBF, BFBG, BFOTA

Whether we were rocked to death or scared to death, our circle of Friends was recently tested. First, our hearts paused while we prayed and hoped through a worrisome medical situation involving a Friend, and entire family, really, that we love dearly. Then, we somehow pulled together enough courage to withstand the musical explosion that was REO Speedwagon and Skyblast. And if you doubt the latter, let me tell you, never doubt a man who has false teeth, platinum hair and can still play the gong.

All joking aside, I've been so proud of my friends. Even though we don't live close to each other or have the ability to hang out all the time, we're there when it counts. Our history of pressing up has clearly become legacy, and we all belong on The List of People Who Don't Eff Around. The social networking age has only worked to our advantage, as we are not the kind of friends who are out of sight, out of mind.

I know with every ounce of faith in my heart (though it just might be heartburn these days), that the sickness will heal, and we will all be sharing photos of our healthy families at the annual PPC (as in Christmas) Potluck.

Deals

You know it's going to be a tough meeting when you walk in a room and someone says, "It took a lot of courage for you to be here today."

I had two such meetings so far this week. And in each of those meetings, I had to make decisions--some of which have already been negatively criticized. But the criticisms say more about those doing the criticizing than it says about me. The results of my decisions--and whether or not they were the best ones--won't be revealed for years to come. Even if they're not the best ones, they already feel like the right ones. I only made these decisions after a lot of prayer, a lot of thinking and a lot of planning. So it wasn't on a whim.

Of course it involved money--which is really the main thing that inspires people to care about someone else's decisions. And I pretty much gave up a lot of it in order to help a larger group of people who otherwise wouldn't likely be able to afford a resource that could help raise healthy, happy children and families. At the same time, I'll have enough, when it's said and done, to pay my debts and help those who have helped me.

I was going to describe how another meeting involved me fighting for social justice in education, but really, both meetings involved me fighting for social justice in education.

It kind of feels like walking the walk, a bit. Look, I'm never going to be a politician--I've had too much of a past for that. But there's still a lot I can do for what I believe in.

Women & Men

I received some sad phone calls this week from a girl struggling with a broken heart. And broken hearts are always harder to put back together when the person suffering doesn't have a strong support system--especially family. The parent-child relationship in her life has always been reversed, and her ex-boyfriend was her life.

But when people build their lives around one person, they tend to hold onto that one person too tightly. It can bring out the worst in a relationship. And even when the relationship goes bad, it can be hard to let go of.

I pray for her every day, hoping her pain will be replaced with joy.

My advice in such a situation is always the same: You have to find a way to move on.

I know it's easier said than done. But the longer you hang onto the wrong person is less time you have with the right one.

And never, NEVER, be someone else's doormat or fool. It's like that buying of the cow when you can get the milk for free thing. If a guy still sleeps with you after he dumps you, it does not mean he loves you. It just means you keep giving him sex. If the sex stops, so will the majority of your communication.

My mother is quick to remind women that we don't need to "buy the cow" either: "Why buy the whole pig when all you want is some sausage."

She probably saw it on a bumper sticker or something. But sometimes bumper stickers give the best advice.

Prayer

I've had so much to pray about in the last week that I actually went to the sanctuary to do it. I'm usually quite content to do it at home or in the car, but I think I just wanted the perfect calm of an empty church.

I cried.

I stared at swaying candlelight.

I prayed.

I foolishly negotiated.

I felt peaceful.

And churches are just so beautiful. Some of the architecture is just majestic. Stained-glass windows and pillars. Pews and velvet carpeting. Light that always seems to fall in the right place.

Even though I didn't feel any closer to God there during prayer than I do at home during prayer, or any differently on a Tuesday night than a Sunday morning, it just felt nice to be there.

I think that's what we should always aim for, you know, that we feel nice to be somewhere. That a place, and the people, feel nice. And if it doesn't feel like that, then maybe we're in the wrong place.

Empty Nesting While My Nest is Growing

Is it possible to have empty nest syndrome when your child is only going to preschool? And for the second time?

Seriously. Cienna is only turning 5 this fall, but I know in like two days she will be 15. Time always goes faster once kids go to school, and this preschool year more closely resembles Kindegarten.

I'm not really freaking out. I'm merely a melodramatic sap who has to turn everything into a scrapbook page.

But can you believe she's going to be 5?

When I look back on the last 5 years with her, it all feels like 5 fast years but a lot of long days. Make any sense?

I'm making a special book for her 5th birthday, including photos and stories of her life to that point.

I'll probably cry the whole time.

Of course I will.

A Swift Kick

When I was pregnant with Cienna, I had my miracle moment--the moment when I realized I was really growing an incredible little life inside me that I already loved and would be a mom to--while I was falling asleep on BG's couch. It was the evening after my first prenatal appointment that confirmed I was pregnant, and BG picked me up so I could stay at her house. The nurses had given me a small box of reading material that covered an infant's life from birth through age one. BG had gone to bed, and I read it all, cover to cover. When I finally closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the challenge of becoming a single mother, I placed my hands on my still-unchanged belly and knew that I wasn't going to sleep alone. And in that beautiful, lifechanging moment I knew I was somebody's mom.

With Ty Guy, I had the moment during my first sonogram with him. He was moving his little hands all around, covering his eyes, as if to play peek-a-boo. I looked at the monitor and thought, "That's my little boy." My eyes filled with tears, and Larry's just might have too, and I couldn't wait to hold those little hands.

This time, it was when I felt the first, tiny kick. I was in Giant Eagle, stopped in the middle of the aisle, and started crying next to the polenta. I put my hand on my clearly-changed belly and said, "Hello, little angel." Now, luckily, our Giant Eagle is very suburban, and the customers there were quite sympathetic as opposed to thinking I was crazy. It's a moment I won't forget, and I can't wait to share it with my baby.

What amazes me most, though, is that even though this is my third baby, it doesn't feel any less miraculous. It's so incredible how love grows and multiplies.

On the way...

There's a blog on the way. I've just been too busy to write it. Maybe Wednesday...

Keep a good thought.

The thing about assholes and confidence

J. Cummins was right.

He once told me, after several glasses of whiskey and water--which, let's face it, make any man a sage, "I've found it's either too much confidence or too little confidence that give people their problems."

And while he slowly whirled that happy hour in his hand, as though he was welcoming the aroma of a fine wine, I realized that some of the best advice was probably handed down that way, with Tom Petty singing songs about winners and losers in the background.

As Bruce Springsteen cautioned, when it comes to winners and losers, "don't get caught on the wrong side of that line."

But confidence is tricky, isn't it? And we can be too confident in some situations and not enough in others; we're not bound to one or the other as a character trait. Sometimes overconfidence expresses itself as obnoxiousness. Sometimes a lack of confidence expresses itself as insecurity.

I thought about that as I briefly read some comments from Meg Ryan recently in Parade in which she said, and I'm paraphrasing, that her eyes were opened when she went through a divorce and people turned on her. She said she had no idea people could wish for her to fail.

And I thought, "Really, Meg?"

See, you can't give people too much credit because most of them are assholes. This is something I learned a long time ago and have never forgotten. And if you're an asshole, and I'm still nice to you, it simply means I've given up on you.

This may not immediately fit the profile for those of you who have labeled me an optimist. But the very reason I'm an optimist is because I know not everyone is an asshole. There are some normal, kind human beings out there. There are friends who really do want you to succeed. There are people who truly do love you unconditionally. There are incredible blessings from God. I believe these things because I've experienced them. But I also believe in a number of other things simply because I have faith.

But you can only have so much faith in assholes.

And if the Meg Ryan thing proves anything it's that your mom was right: When confronted with a bully--in this case an emotional one--just keep your head held high. Bullies never last, and they get theirs.

I just talked to Larry's great-grandma today about two bullies who used to live on her street. They treated her brother horribly. "And you know they grew up to both have failed marriages and very sick years before they died."

Like me, she's not the type of woman to wish anything horrible on anyone, but it's just one example of "what goes around, comes around."

Trust me, you don't want to be standing next to an asshole when it comes around.

Very brief

I'm loving this weather! It feels like early fall, and that's always a good thing. I noticed this most yesterday evening when I was leaving work while it was still daylight--which is rare--and the city was just so beautiful. All that was missing was a football game.

Soon enough, I guess. :-)

Hard work...and pressing up, basically

1. Hello, friends (and cyber-stalkers). You probably know (if we're friends or if you've stalked me thoroughly) that I'm someone who believes everything happens for a reason. And, well, I've come to believe the reason for this recession (even if certain republicans in a failed administration refuse to call it that) is to force people to get back to some hard work. This country was founded on it. That's why I believe this country became a superpower. The fact that we've moved away from this as a culture is why I think we're growing weaker and poorer.

A recent report amidst the whole Fannie Mae/Freddie Mac coverage claimed that some investors admitted to a lower level of productivity and higher tech usage. Is this a surprise? Look around you! Many of your co-workers use company time to shop online, blog, look up their fantasy stats, email with friends, IM, and the list goes on. I've done it. So have you.

But there's a limit to how much of it should be done. And when.

Sometimes people just don't like their jobs--it's merely the source of a paycheck. There's not much pride in their work or even a mild appreciation for being employed during our dismal economic forecast. "If I had the job I wanted, I'd do a good job." That kind of attitude.

Are we really that spoiled? Do you think our grandfathers had a passion for mining? Do you think our grandfathers enjoyed sweating all day in the mills? Do you think they yearned to wash dishes in a restaurant? No. They did it to take care of their families. And too many water breaks would get them fired, let alone the thought of chatting on the job.

Hey, I'm the first to admit that I love to communicate, but I get my shite done first. I don't do the IM thing. It's just not conducive to my lifestyle as a busy mom. I blog--usually at night, after work, once the kids are asleep. If I do shop online, it's usually window shopping and, again, at night. The same pretty much goes for email at this point. I text occasionally, but these days I mostly just call the person. Was I always this way? No.

But I used to have this friend who simply could not visit anyone without her laptop. She claimed it was because she was just SO busy at work, but everyone knew she spent the majority of her day IMing and flirting online with her fantasy boyfriend of the week. It always seemed kind of...sad. Not to mention rude to the person she was visiting. And while I wasn't cyberaddicted, I knew I couldn't judge her, even if silently, until I reigned in some of my own bad habits.

When I read those Fannie Mae/Freddie Mac stories, I just wonder: Would things have been any different if we all just put in an honest day's work? And for more than one day...

I sort of think the same thing when I read all these stories about the rising cost of education. On behalf of parents, I'd like to say, "We get it! It's going to be expensive--way more expensive than when we went."

But does that mean our children are doomed? NO!

Here's an idea: Maybe instead of trying to scare an 8-year-old into figuring out how many loans he/she will need, we instead encourage our children to do it the ol' fashioned way! Work hard, earn scholarships!

Get it together, America.

"Do not confuse motion and progress. A rocking horse keeps moving but does not make any progress." -- Alfred A. Montapert

"Do not wait; the time will never be "just right'. Start where you stand, and work with whatever tools you may have at your command, and better tools will be found as you go along."
--Napoleon Hill

2. Now let me tell you about something really unproductive that I did. On Saturday and Sunday, I was ill. Considerably ill. And I made a mess in the process. We'll leave it at that. But what was nice about feeling like a scene from "Alien" was that I got to re-watch most of season 3 of "The Office." And with Larry and my youngest brother-in-law there, I was in good company. I really really love "The Office." Even if I clearly remember an episode, it still makes me laugh out loud. Also, I'm pretty sure that my stepdad is a combination of Michael Scott and Dwight Schrute.

3. But before I was unproductive and sick, I was really really happy. On Friday, we got to spend time with friends for Dinner and Dark Knight, and not only was I not disappointed, but all of my expectations were exceeded. And our friends brought us a gift for the baby, which was totally unexpected and incredibly sweet. Also, I had the best grilled zucchini ever. Ever!

Notes on a Wednesday

A. So I thought things weren't going to be this busy in mid-July, but I was totally wrong. Awesome. Thanks. But I've accepted that life won't slow down until my kids are 25. Maybe. We all know that I love it anyway, though, so... Oh my goodness! It's just so incredible! I mean, not only are filled with an amount of love you never thought possible, you are ultimately responsible for the development of lives. Their minds are like sponges that you can fill with incredible truths and beautiful stories and images. And you realize that all of these things you started doing while they were still in utero--like reading to them and singing songs--has only fostered their undeniable enjoyment of reading and dancing. It's just this amazing journey, and I make sure that I force myself to slow things down so we can appreciate the moments we're in when we're in them. I still can't fall asleep at night unless I check on my children first. And it still melts my heart to see them cuddled up with their favorite blankie (and in Ty's case, a Boppy too!) It's a feeling that's hard to describe sometimes, but if I can try... You know what it's like when you're dating someone, and you get those butterflies when you're about to see them, or even when you're thinking about them while in rush hour traffic? You know how awesome it feels to fall asleep with that person and daydream--or even nightdream--about all of things you'll do with them and where you'll go together? It's just a simple joy that comes from being with someone you love. And if you put the right amount of care into it during the course of a lifetime, that feeling doesn't have to fade away. It's just an excitement and a love so beautiful. And children don't have to change that, even as your relationship may change. I think children can make you fall in love in a different way because they show you another dimension to your lover. Unconditional love--which is the kind a parent should have for their child(ren)--is attractive. And unconditionally loving your child(ren) together bonds you in a whole new way. Mainly though, together, you realize that children redefine happiness.

B. I daydream about the baby a lot. Being a mother, being pregnant, is just absolutely magical.

C. I'm not sure if this is just in my head or what, but I swear that Larry's hormones change right along with mine. When I'm sick and stressed and tired during the beginning of a pregnancy, he's a grumpy bear. When I hit the second trimester high--where everything is beautiful and wonderful--he's totally sweet and adoring. And when I hit the third trimester of waddling and back pain, he's like a live-in superhero, always there to give massages (while sometimes unsuccessfully attempting to play video games with one hand).

D. I always cry at weddings, and we have two coming up! We're really excited for them! It's a great opportunity to not only wish the best for your married friends and celebrate their love, but you generally get to have fun with a lot of your other friends too! There's something so perfect about simply being a guest.

E. I've tried to contain my excitement for this weekend's premiers, but I just can't any longer! I can't wait for Batman! I think I've taped every interview with Christian Bale, Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman. By the way, I got a text from a friend this week that said, "Y do i feel like m.freeman is some1 who should b in your fam?" To which I replied, "I LOVE YOU!" The answer, of course, is because he made the BGBG list of "People Who Don't F Around."

And, also, I'm entirely too excited for "Mamma Mia!" I know that Batman will be the first to get my time and money, but I really need to see MM as well. Maybe I can convince my mom to go with me. "Dancing Queen" is sort of our song together anyway. Also, whenever I talk to Larry about it, he sort of reluctantly agrees and says, "Maybe you should see if any girls want to go." Hmm....anyone want to go see "Mamma Mia!" with me? I mean, it's hard to avoid any movie with Colin Firth, Meryl Streep and Pierce Brosnan. And, by the way, I love Colin Firth in interviews.

F. I love farmers' markets for summer produce.

G. Have a great day, loves! I'm off to make dinner for the fam!

"Wildflowers Don't Care Where They Grow"

Wildflowers

by Dolly Parton

The hills were alive with wildflowers

And I was as wild, even wilder than they

For at least I could run, they just died in the sun

And I refused to just wither in place

Just a wild mountain rose, needing freedom to grow

So I ran fearing not where I'd go

When a flower grows wild, it can always survive

Wildflowers don't care where they grow

And the flowers I knew in the fields where I grew

Were content to be lost in the crowd

They were common and close

I had no room for growth

I wanted so much to branch out

I uprooted myself from home ground and left

Took my dreams and I took to the road

When a flower grows wild, it can always survive

Wildflowers don't care where they grow.

I grew up fast and wild and I never felt right

In a garden so different from me

I just never belonged, I just longed to be gone

So the garden, one day, set me free

Hitched a ride with the wind and since he was my friend

I just let him decide where we'd go

When a flower grows wild, it can always survive

Wildflowers don't care where they grow.

When a flower grows wild, it can always survive

Wildflowers don't care where they grow.

Joy is best when it's simple and genuine.

It really doesn't even matter that my camera batteries died halfway through 4th of July Festivities. What I'll remember most is an image I could never forget--an image I'll hold close to my heart forever: The look of complete, genuine joy and wonder in the eyes of my children.

By the time our community had set off it's first firework, we were covered in free glowsticks, glow bracelets, glow necklaces and glow swords. (Duquesne Light loves it some chemoluminescence!) And my family had been fully "regaled" with my stories about twirling glow batons. Hey, at the very least, it helped tune out the band in the background which destroyed the musical stylings of Amy Winehouse and Stevie Ray Vaughn.

We were sitting beneath the show, so the first blast was loud enough to inspire a pouty lip from Ty. Once I held him, though, he was fine and even began pointing and clapping at all the pretty lights. Cienna, a child clearly after my heart which she already has, said, "It's like a bunch of your Christmas trees, Mommy." She doesn't know it yet, but that bought her a car when she's 16. Maybe not, but you get the idea of how happy I was.

I pretty much used Larry as back support while I held Ty and Cienna sat on the opposite side of me. At one point, it felt like time had stopped and I was in some movie moment. Everything seemed to get quiet, despite the noises above, and all I could see was everyone else looking up.

My children had the most magical looks on their faces. Their eyes were reflecting the lights of the fireworks and were as big as planets. Only, instead of being covered in continents and waterways, they were covered in wonder and joy. They were so incredibly happy and perfect--the way the simplicity of youth delivers such happiness and perfection.

And just as quickly as it brought tears to my eyes, I couldn't help but feel as excited as they were. Because the beauty of childhood--which is simplicity--can be enjoyed at any age.

I carried that mantra throughout the rest of my weekend, taking pause to enjoy my garden a little more and all the wildflowers that so-appropriately surround our house. I returned correspondence to some friends. I daydreamed about tiny baby hands and tiny baby feet. And first smiles. I listened to the "Garden State" soundtrack on the way to work. I grilled. I went to a picnic. I planned this weekend's Batman Bacchanal. I appreciated having the best brothers-in-law a girl could ever ask for. We visited grandmas. I fingerpainted with Ty, who giggled the whole time, assuming he was making a big mess for Mommy that wasn't going to be easily washed away. I colored three Scooby-Doo pictures with Cienna, which have now been added to the fridge. I read the Sunday paper.

And it was joyful.

Even though my camera batteries died during 4th of July Festivities, I did manage to get this photo of Cienna and her best friend, Tayla. They are 2 months and 2 days apart, with Cienna being the older one.

Also included are some photos of flowers from our gardens. I'll be adding a few to each blog. The one that includes a row of pansies, bottom right, is actually Cienna's garden. She planted it and waters it daily--even if it rains.

You knew I wouldn't get away from lists for too long

Perfect Opportunities
Every now and then, the perfect job opportunity comes along. And sometimes that happens twice in the same season. It feels as though everything loves you and as though you've hit a career stride. So you silently compliment yourself on not stagnating, on reaching your potential, on constantly moving upward, even if the movement has been slow. You can be proud that you left your old job for something better and not because you were forced to resign. (You'd be amazed at how many people experience the latter--even if they never admit it.) And while even failure can yield some level of success, it's nice when it's just success that yields success.

What's in a name?
Well, a lot is in a name. Especially when you're choosing the name of your child. And when you have a writing background, that choice can be even more difficult because everything reminds you of something else. I've changed my mind at least one hundred times now.

Decision '08
Another big decision parents make is choosing Godparents for their child. If the parents believe in that sort of thing. We do. To me, it's asking two special people to be positive influences in a child's life, further leading them to goodness. You hope they will share a part of themselves that's truly important, shaping that young life toward brilliance. It's the parents' job to raise that child, and so they do all of those same things, but Godparents are usually happy and honored to simply add to it. For example, Cienna's Godmother, Mary Beth, is known for her literature collection and extensive reading list. So for every holiday, birthday, party of any kind, visit, etc., she always brings Cienna a book, with a beautiful, little note inside. And the books are always awesome books, too. Cienna has quite the collection going. Joe, Cienna's Godfather, is an eternal optimist. He always sends her these great toys when he can't make it back from L.A., or he brings them in hand. They're always fun toys, yet educational. For example, the big Fisher Price Zoo set that includes talking animals, music and ABC games. The cash register that lets her play store and also teaches her about money. The awesome puzzles. And of course a collector's edition Barbie toy that teaches her about ...um, preservation. Both Mary Beth and Joe have been amazing Godparents and amazing friends.

Ty has been lucky, also, to have such doting uncles who will undoubtedly teach him unbelievable things as he gets older. And with Justin as his Godfather, I can only imagine what those things will be! :-) As for his Godmother, it was just beautiful to see Jocelyn hold him for the first time and watch as her face changed from unsure to magical. Unsure-t0-magical is pretty much the story of that girl's life.

Ryan will be Godfather to this baby, and I know he will be awesome. So our choice lies in which amazing woman we will ask to be the Godmother. It really is an important choice. And we're making it carefully.

It would suck to have to change church records and wills, you know?!

Dresses
Who went shopping with her mother-in-law Saturday and found two dresses, both normally retailing at $119 each and marked down to $4.99? Me. My MIL bought them for me because they're not only beautiful, but they also expand with a growing belly--even though they are not maternity dresses. What a find! I'm still happy about the shopping adventure--during which she also bought something for the new baby!

4th of July
I really do love this week every year. "Pressing up in honor of our forefathers" and MB's love of it has made me love it even more. But I love seeing old friends and family, grilling food, making a dish and taking it to picnics or "pic-a-nics" if you're from Pittsburgh, and, of course, fireworks--especially when watched with children and from someone's arms.

A weekend that was...

So I didn't realize it until it was over, but this past weekend was full of all of my favorite things.

I'm not going to list EVERYTHING that happened, but here's a small sampling: a ballgame, the drive-in, a very comfortable bed, window shopping for Baby Woodall, the most beautiful bridal shower ever, time with my family, time with my grandmothers-in-law, dinner at Gram's, watching Cienna play with her friends, watching Tyler act quite unsure about baby donkeys and alpacas at the petting zoo, watching Ty enjoy his pony ride--but only after Larry and I got yelled at by a horse whisperer who made us laugh so hard that I nearly peed my pants, hearing yet another story about Larry at Mercyhurst and nudity, wedding cake and a long walk.

Kennywoodall

What is it about Kennywood day that is always so perfect? It doesn't matter if it's hot, cold, rainy or cloudy, people are smiling.

Watching the kids' reactions was amazing. Cienna and Tyler wore huge grins all day, along with their hoodies, as they rode together in Kiddieland. And Cienna was tall enough to ride several things with Larry in the main park. But when the kids rode together, Cienna always watched out for Ty and would put her arm around him during the fast or bumpy parts. It's moments like that which melt my heart and make me thank God all over again for being their mother.

The kids were also lucky to have Grandma and Pap Pap Woodall, Great-Grandma Arlene and Aunt Shelley come along as well. It was so nice to enjoy the park as a family and ride together on the few things we could all ride together.

Of course, the real reason I know Cienna had fun is because she actually turned down ice cream in favor of riding more. Somehow, though, she managed to get a cone before the day was over! And she wasn't alone! :-)

P.S. As always, you can see all the pictures on Facebook!

The beauty of rock bottom (not to be confused with Rock Bottom) and other stuff

Not that you would ever think I'd write about a brewery chain...

One of the things my first college roommate and I had in common was the fear that whenever something good happened, something bad would naturally follow. It's like the cliche you hear about "waiting for the other shoe to drop."

That dear friend of mine eventually found a quote that muted her fear:
"If you believe in fate to your harm, believe it at least for your good." -- Ralph Waldo Emerson

My experience was different. I just eventually realized that the bad stuff wasn't such a bad thing. While fear may have been part of my character, the failure to rebound, and rebound quickly, never was. My optimism is often unyielding, and I've always believed in working things out, talking things through and pressing up, basically. Plus, I have an incredible faith in God and strongly belive in prayer. So that's what I've always relied on.

But it's more than that. There's something beautiful about a breakdown. You're given a clean emotional slate. You learn who you can count on. Your strengths and weaknesses are more transparent. And it's always the beginning of the next great chapter in your life.

So don't fear the bottom of something. It's sometimes just the top of something else.

Can we discuss the Three Rivers Arts Festival, please?

It's gets an A+ for the art! But little else...

I'm not impressed with the musical line-up. Truth be told, I haven't been since Aimee Mann played at the Point. (And before that when NIJ played. Remember when NIJ used to play the Festival? Aw...) Even beyond that concert, it was one of the greatest days of my life, making the concert an even fonder memory, I suppose.

Oh, in addition to the Festival having the best displays/booths/vendors/artists this year, the chocolate-covered strawberries, once again, deserve an A+.

Pops and circumstance

Last evening, the class of 2008 graduated from Mt. Lebanon High School. Which meant that on my way to work, the ride was a little slower as parents and families lined Cedar Boulevard with cameras, congratulations and some crying.

The most touching moment that I witnessed as a passerby involved what looked like a father and daughter talking and then embracing. And as they hugged, he just closed his eyes and held on in a way that I think every girl wants her dad to hold onto her.

Beating deadlines

I'm 3/4 the way done with "Push," and it's only mid-June. My deadline was originally October. It's fair to say I'll beat that. The journal that accompanies it can't be done until the bambino arrives, but that's beyond my control. We're negotiating all of that and art at my September meeting, which I'm hoping turns into a little anniversary vacation for Lar and me.

I just can't believe I'm beating this deadline by this margin. It's one thing to meet a deadline. It's another to beat one.

But the work won't end. There will be edits. For sure.

I love being a writer.

Kennywood

So apparently it's mid-June, and the Woodalls (inlaws included) are going to Kennywood next week. I can't believe it's next week already. And I can't believe I get the work perks that I do.

We're so excited to see the kids' reactions to all the rides, though it will be a challenge just keeping Ty from running around all over the place! He's his own version of Speed Racer! You should see him!

Cienna is tall enough to ride a decent amount of the rides outside of Kiddieland as well, so that's exciting.

My favorite part of the whole thing is riding at night when everything is all lit-up. I've always loved that, as I've always loved Kennywood. It brings back so many great memories, and so many great memories are made there as well.

It's nice to go to other parks too--such as Cedar Point and Busch Gardens--but we're lucky to have such a great amusement park in our back yard. (OK, so it's really McKeesport's back yard, but whatever.)

Kool-Aid Nana

I went to my mom's on Tuesday to drop off Ty for his first overnight at Nana's ever. She had four other children on her porch--Cienna and three of her friends. Ty made five. And Nana loved it. She had the Kool-Aid (which is thankfully available sugar-free, and also free of aspartame) and popscicles (which are thankfully available sugar-free, and also free of aspartame) all ready, and a slip 'n slide was turned on in the back yard.

While I may have annoyed her most of my life, she definitely loves being a Nana!

Entourage

So Entourage is become a fall show, and I'm not happy about that. It was so great to have a great show on during the summer when TV usually offers things like..."Celebrity Circus," "So You Think You Can Dance," "I Survived a Japanese Game Show"...things like that.

One of my co-workers claims I should start watching "Weeds." Does anyone else watch that? Do you know if it's something I can just start watching, or do I need background first? Any summer TV suggestions?

Making history

A lot of people made history this week. But we only know some of their stories. And the stories we do know are sometimes subjected to questions of validity.

When, though, do those questions or details ever really matter? The way we make history and the way we remember it are often quite different.

There was a moment, and a relationship that was central to it, that seemed to change the course of my life. It was tenacious. Passionate. Fierce. Good for my writing, bad for my soul. Full of cocktails. Rich with dialogue. And eventually painful. For too long after it had ended, a part of me felt almost haunted by it. The good memories seemed so much better than they were. The bad ones seemed justifiable. And all the minutes in between seemed longer than normal minutes, like 75 seconds reminding me that I was alone.

Being Candy, being someone who believes the martini glass is always half full, I made the most of it. And being that I was in college, that meant I had sex with someone else as fast as I could to get over him. And being that I was a college girl in my early twenties, that did not take long.

One day, the pain of my actions and the pain of his absence simply went away.

When I look back now, I have no idea what my reason was for walking away. Even with my photographic memory. Granted, there were probably a hundred people who had a hundred reasons why I should've walked away even sooner--myself included--but I don't remember what was the pivotal moment in our history that made me walk away, literally, and also avoid all temptation to turn around and see if he was watching me walk away.

But I remember why I didn't turn around--fear that maybe he was watching me walk away with a look on his face that suggested he felt the romance of longing, and fear that maybe he wasn't. Once I made it to my Isuzu Trooper that day, I loudly played "Purple Rain" by Prince during the drive home, over and over until I didn't need to listen to it anymore.

I didn't choose that song because it had anything to do with our relationship, nor did it describe any of it's failings. I just needed to hear a good song--a song with genius and heart, a song that was bigger than me. One of my high school best friends always said, "All a girl really needs in this world, Candy, is good music, good coffee and great friends." I guess it stuck.

Oddly enough, what I'm proud of more than knowing when to walk away is never letting a bad thing come between my relationship with good music. There's not one band or album or song I've forsaken because of tainted love.

"Purple Rain" is still one of my all-time favorite songs, and it makes me think of many things. Mostly though, it's just musically incomparable. It's epic. And it's from one of the best albums of all time, of the same title. I have the history to prove this. My first copy was on vinyl. Then a cassette. Then a CD. Now a microchip. It still sounds best in a car though.

Penguins and bridesmaids

The Pittsburgh Penguins incredible season has mostly been buried today by comparisons of their team to forgotten bridesmaids. But that's not such a bad thing.

As someone who watched every Penguins game this season (and a few seasons prior), I'm extremely proud of our local hockey players. They played hard, and with respect, and there's still a lot of talent on our team. That's why, despite my disappointment last evening, I didn't wake up feeling sad. I'm beyond confident that we'll make it back to the Cup finals, and we'll win next time. And when the Pens go home with the Cup the next time, we'll forget all about the pain of this loss.

Let's be real about something though: It's a lot less of a big deal to be a forgotten bridesmaid than the loser of a championship. The former usually has to do with the natural progression of life as opposed to an unfulfilled dream. For some of these athletes, it's their life's work. I've been both a bride and a bridesmaid. It's nobody's life's work. (If by some rare chance it is, I'm sorry--to you and for you.)

Bridesmaids and weddings have been coming up in conversation a lot lately. One of my friends recently got engaged, and one of our cousins got engaged this past weekend. Once you've had a wedding of your own, people like to pick your brain a little.

But I should point out that Larry and I are bad to go to advice for on this topic. We weren't the kind of couple, or the type of people, to analyze or agonize over things most people won't remember. I think weddings should reflect the couple. If you spend most of your days looking like you walked out of Vogue magazine, then maybe that's what your wedding should be. If you sit around bonfires with beer most of the time, maybe you're destined for an outdoor wedding and a picnic that follows.

Trust me on this, though, if you try to make your wedding something you are not--it will be hell to plan.

A journalism professor in college taught us that when you have the right lead, the rest of the story flows easily, naturally. I think that's true about a lot of things in life.

My wedding dress was the third one I tried on. I picked my flowers in less than 30 minutes. The cake was from Bethel Bakery--a no-brainer. My matron of honor picked the bridesmaids dresses and talked it over with the rest of the girls--they would be wearing the dress, not me. We got married in the small church I grew up in. It didn't overlook the city. It barely overlooked the Mon River. Michelangelo did not paint the ceilings. There was no waiting list. Our dinner was buffet style for the 400 people who attended our reception in a fire hall. Sure, the invitation may have said "banquet hall," but on Tuesday nights, it's full of bingo players.

We saved tons of money that way. We invited our friends and family. We didn't stress over cutting people off the list we grew up with because we couldn't afford to feed them. We fed and watered them all very well.

You could say a lot about my wedding, but you can't say it wasn't fun. And, in the end, that's what people will remember most.

So don't worry about flowers and bridesmaids. Pick both with the knowledge that it's the choice you are making now--whenever now is for you. And as you grow, and your life grows, you might have chosen a lily over a rose, or a Becky over a Bonnie, but it's about what you feel in your heart now that influences you choice.

The only thing about that whole day that even matters are the vows you take with the person you love.

Clintons

Unfortunately for Hillary Rodham Clinton, the vows she took may be what both propelled her into making history as the first woman to receive 18 million votes for the Democratic nomination and yet kept her from being its nominee. I'm willing to bet the same rednecks who've said in interviews, "I don't think this country is ready for a black president yet or nothing" are the same rednecks who voted for her because they actually believed it would be Bill controlling the White House. And I also believe some of the votes she lost were lost because some people are just over it about Bill's conduct on and off the campaign trail.

What woman should all admire, though, is that she never gave up and also showed us a wonderful model of a beautiful relationship between mother and child. Seriously, I'm truly moved by the way Chelsea championed for her mother throughout this process.

I wish the media could've given her the time she deserved to close the campaign with a little more class. The impatience for her to just quit was absurd. Her supporters--especially those she brought into the process for the first time--deserved a proper farewell.

That said, Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert made me laugh so hard during their post-primary coverage on their shows about the whole thing.

Obamas

OK. I've been an Obama supporter all along, so I was happy he won the nomination. And while I was kind of proud he's the first black man on the Democratic ticket, I'll be prouder if he's the first black man in the Oval Office. Press Up, America.

And speaking of the Press Up, were any of my college friends as proud when the Obamas hit the rock before his acceptance speech?

SATC with MB

So, clearly, seeing "Sex and the City" with the bestest was one of the best experiences of my life. First, it was time with the bestest (while Lar got to visit with Spence), and it was my favorite Hollywood foursome.

I'd love to review it for you, but that would totally spoil it. After you see it, though, we should definitely dish about it.

But for those of you who haven't seen it yet, who loved the TV series as much, I will warn you that there's not nearly enough Mario Cantone.

Dr. Gopalani

Yes, I'm still in touch with Dr. Gopalani. Though he's so West Coast now, he still visits Pittsburgh from time to time. Now is one of those times. Which means tennis. And talk of the Vag.

MTV Movie Awards

Larry insisted I watch them. And when Adam Sandler got MTV's equivalent of the Academy's Lifetime Achievement Award, Larry beamed with joy. Beamed.

Overall, the awards were enjoyable. I was extremely happy when Coldplay performed. (And speaking of Coldplay, I wish you could see Cienna imitate their iPod commercial). I was extremely happy when Usher performed. "Love in this Club" has become somewhat of joke between Larry and me. The song amuses us, and I made it a point to learn the dance from the video. Every time I do it or attempt it, he laughs.

Pennsyltucky

One of my friends at work directed me to a Web site today that shows what celebrities would look like if they lived in Pittsburgh. They were either fat, had big hair, were fashion disasters, walked straight out of the 80s or wore t-shirts.

To our critics: Why is Pittsburgh viewed as the redneck capital of PA? Have you never been to Breezewood?

I didn't Get it Get it Get it Get it

Looking back, it seems as though we had all the time in the world during That Summer. And, really, we didn't. But our schedules allowed us to fit in Friends reruns, Golden Girls reruns, Dave and Andy's, many entries into The Quote Book, and copious amounts of alcohol.

I've never had that kind of time since. Yet I managed to enjoy some of those things this weekend, during the busiest month of my life, while also celebrating Larry's birthday with some a little early, cheering on the Pens, working for a charity, taking care of a sick, little guy and catching the season finales of "Extreme Home Makeover" and "Desperate Housewives."

But that half-hour of Golden Girls made me so, so happy--and in the simplest way! It brought back great memories and also the not-so-awesome reminder that I was once voted Dorothy on the "Which Golden Girl Are You?" quiz. Dorothy is awesome. The testosterone-issue rumors about her...not awesome. What I'm not-so proud of, though, is the fact that I actually took that quiz. When I was 20.

I've been accused of far-worse wastes of time. Like the American Idol game yesterday. Because what do you do after the Pens clinch the Eastern Conference? You play the American Idol game. Larry had an adult league game, so he was spared my rendition of Britney Spears' "I'm a Slave 4 U." Even though it wasn't as legendary as Lou's version of Spears' "Lucky," it was awarded one performance star--the lowest rating possible.

Now, the thing you should know about the American Idol game is that you don't have to sing. Like Trivial Pursuit (am I actually comparing it to Trivial Pursuit?), there are many categories, and in the category that gives you the chance to showcase your talents via the echo mic, you can opt out of singing with the Break it Down (dancing for the judges) or Idol Truth (Idol trivia) options. But each time I had the opportunity (and there were many), I chose to Belt It Out. The game picks the songs for you, so to my defense, had I chose, Britney Spears' catalog wouldn't have been in my genre.

I had better luck with "Fame," to which I also embarrassingly busted out some old twirling choreography. Also earning me many more performance stars were: "Proud Mary," "Papa Was a Rolling Stone," "Physical," "Wild Thing" and "Greatest Love of All."

After that fun, I watched season finales. And after watching season finales, I discussed season finales with friends, as though I was 15 years old and my parents just installed my own phone line.

It was a relaxing way to end the weekend and a simple way to begin another busy week. Isn't that how the best summers begin?

What I'm Loving: A top 20

1. That summer glow, that baby glow, that in-love glow

2. Watching Pens games with my favorites. (I'm going to miss you, Ry and Rizzo!)

3. Surprises from my mom.

4. Funny things the kids say. For example, we were recently behind one of the three taxicabs in Pittsburgh, and Cienna said, "Mommy, why is that car wearing a hat? That's silly."

5. Not having writer's block.

6. Plans with the best of the best for SATC and dinner at the end of the month.

7. Mr. C and his incredible cooperation. He's the best person to work with ever.

8. Being part of a Christian ministry that truely accomplishes something.

9. Being soulful and peaceful.

10. Generating ideas.

11. Ty not needing surgery.

12. That Ty is saying a couple more words each day.

13. Soup.

14. Bran flakes and light vanilla soymilk.

15. All the hostas in my back yard that remind me of those at my mom's and grandmother's.

16. Being outside with the fam, blowing bubbles and playing in sandboxes.

17. Prayer.

18. Recapturing my love of photography--sometimes it takes the right camera.

19. Mother's Day cards the kids made with Daddy that make me smile every time I look at them.

20. Pilates.

Why I'm Counting Down: Looking Forward to Learning More

This is part five of a blog series about why I'm counting down to vacation, while I catch you up on all that has left an impression on me so far this spring.

I've said before how, if we pay really close attention, we can learn as much from our children as we teach them. This past weekend was no exception.

As I watched Ty, I realized that learning to walk is a lot like walking away--one day it just clicks. Nobody can make you do it. Nobody can give you the center you need for balance; you simply must find it on your own. Nobody should let you hold their hand for too long, or you'll learn to rely on that for stability instead of your own two feet.

Between the kids and good friends, many things clicked for me this weekend. And I always love weekends like that because it proves how many things I still have to learn, which keeps my life from stagnating. It's sometimes as simple as sitting in a room among loving people, realizing how good you feel, accepting that you can no longer surround yourself with people or influences who inspire you to feel otherwise. It's in the words of a trusted student ministry leader who reminds you that what most people call "luck," you call "blessings." It's in the hands of a great-grandmother that have hugged you so many times, making you certain that there's no bigger blessing than loving a family. It's in the eyes of first-time parents who simply cannot stop staring at their newborn, smiling in total awe that their child's life began with their love.

One of Larry's friends became a father this weekend, and as soon as I saw the little photo on his cell phone, I started crying. I know how precious and irreplacable those first hours are, that incomparable joy that fills your entire being and the world around you, and I know that unbreakable bond and biological pull that changes your life forever. And I thanked God that I've been able to know all those things. And I thanked God that our friends were blessed to now know all those things.

It seemed to me that we should always strive toward such beauty and goodness, and the more you feel that kind of beauty and goodness in the world, the more difficult it becomes to be where it is absent.

And I guess when you feel that complete disconnect is when you finally walk away.

Where I want to walk most right now, though, is with my babies, and my love, through the sand, along the beach, just being thankful that I get to share it with each of them.

Why I'm Counting Down: Because I need more days like this

This is part four of a blog series about why I'm counting down to vacation, while I catch you up on all that has left an impression on me so far this spring.

Days when I get to see my baby girl graduate from her first preschool class.
Today wasn't her last day of school--that's in two weeks--but Cienna's class held a program for parents to showcase some of what they've learned throughout the school year. They sang songs and performed finger plays, and shared cookies afterward.

All the while, I was thinking of the first time I saw her little hands. And the first time she held her own toy. And the first time she reached out for me. And the first time we walked, holding hands.

She did everything she was supposed to during the songs, and she also kicked her feet often and squeezed her dress--something my mom said I always did during school events as a child.

Cienna is energy personified. I'm so proud of how far she's come and overwhelmingly pleased with all she's learned this year, a testament to the wonderful teachers I adore. She can read a little, spell a little, write several words and names--including Lee and Twist, whom she believes are her cousins*, sing several songs, hold down a conversation better than some adults I know, understands traffic rules, respects community helpers and knows the jobs they perform, and, most importantly, she's developed a love for school!

It was also nice to have my parents there with us (of course they came!), and they rewarded her afterward with a trip to Chuck E. Cheese.

To no surprise, I've had tears in my eyes all day about it. But I won't really cry until the very last day, when she says good bye to her amazing teachers and new friends.

Fortunately, we get to see some of them in church on Sundays throughout the summer, until next summer when she has a new class, new teachers and new friends.

It's so true, though, what they say about how fast the years with your children go. You really do have to savor them.

[*Larry's friends, Lee and Twist, watched a hockey game at our house recently, and Cienna was quickly convinced they were her cousins. She demanded to know the spelling of their names and created many pictures of fish with "TWIST" and "LEE" written below her aquatic masterpieces. Even though it's been a couple weeks, she continues to draw pictures for them, as is the case with most of our guests, so they have art waiting when they return.]

Days when Tina Turner and Cher sing "Proud Mary" on Oprah.
OK, so, yeah, I'm including Cher and Tina, and Proud Mary, among the perfect day of Cienna's preschool graduation. I love Tina Turner in a severe way, and sometimes I love her story more than her music. Still, when you want a woman who can rock you, you pretty much want Tina Turner.

My favorite three are Tina, Patsy Cline and Madonna. (Joe: It's not because of the movies "What's Love Got to do With It?" "Sweet Dreams" or "Desperately Seeking Susan" though I have watched them all more than I care to admit.) Tina is a fighter, though she found her greatest success through inner peace. No other woman can reinvent herself as well as Madonna. And Patsy Cline's voice is simply unmatched. (This is not to suggest that these three of the best female voice of all time. That title clearly belongs to Aretha Franklin.)

Thursdays that find you dancing along, prouder than Mary, singing in your living room, don't happen nearly enough. You have to savor them.

Days when the work cafe has the best wedding soup ever.
It couldn't have come at a better time either. Despite the fact that it's a brisk 55 degrees outside, the air conditioning is still on in the office. I was happy the soup could warm me up!

Days when I come up with the best Mother's Day craft idea and realize it will only cost a small amount.
But it's a surprise, so that's all I can say.

Days when a guy calls to request more Chipper Jones coverage and then tells me this joke:

Q: What's the difference between an American blow-up doll and a Muslim blow-up doll?

A: The Muslim doll blows itself up.

It literally happened just like that. One second he's yelling about Chipper Jones, the next he's telling me a joke. It was the most perfectly-bipolar conversation ever.

Days when I land an incredible interview and learn something amazing.
But I can't share it yet, so that's all I can say.

Days when I realize it's only two weeks until Indiana Jones.
And I'm OK with being that kind of dork.

Days when it is the eve of Pens-Flyers and I read this story:
http://www.philly.com/philly/news/20080507_Plot_by_Pittsburgh_fans_against_Rocky_statue_.html