Why I'm Counting Down: Busy and the Beautiful

This is part two 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.

"Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined." -Henry David Thoreau

But sometimes living that life makes you very, very busy, Friends.

At this point, I'm supplementing my planner with lists on sheets from a legal pad. I have at least three different electronic devices reminding me of important appointments and tasks. I'm averaging 4 hours of sleep a night. And it won't slow down until June. But even then it will merely be slower, not slow.

Despite the full schedule, I'm very happy because some of the days are reserved for my most-cherished family and my best friends. Tacos & Tequila, Mother's Day dinner, PPC & SATC, Preschool Graduation, Preschool Picnic, Youth Soccer, Youth Swim Lessons, Tennis!, Birthday Barbecue on Beadling, A Very Woody Vacation, Mary Mayhem, Saturdays with Joanne, Grilling with the Alion's, MemDaying with the Fil's, Two Charity Events, and Wine from Our Favorite Chairs.

Every now and then, if you drove past the Beadling Bungalow, you might think Larry and I have confused ourselves with Alan Shore and Denny Crane. We look like two best friends, sharing a drink on the porch--sometimes it's wine, sometimes it's iced tea--talking about anything and everything.

So I guess I'm balancing it all pretty well for now--the busy and the beautiful.

Trust me, though, three books on the bedside table are calling my name, and I can't wait to bury my face in them from a beach chair after the kids have exhausted themselves to sleep after building sandcastles and swimming all day.

This year, Friends, I've earned my vacation.

A Friendly Reminder

I was both listening and daydreaming, all the while realizing that oil companies are getting richer as churches are acquiring deficits. It's no surprise when, after the benediction, we go into a world that's getting harder to afford. Yet we're also reminded how we can't afford to lose that world. To pollution, terrorism or poor economics.

There are some days, though, when my mind journeys through past years when I was college-poor, fatter and naive. Yet I know I felt wealthy, beautiful and smart despite my circumstances. I was aware of the reality, but I was also aware that I could change it.

And I did.

I've learned all it really takes to do anything is determination. And prayer. For me, prayer has always mattered.

I'm continually amazed by the number of people who complain about not having things they never ask for. In my life, asking is the first step. There are many things I could seemingly do on my own, but I pray for guidance before each emotional mission.

I prayed a lot this week, as tears filled my eyes many times. Luckily, they were mostly tears of joy.

Except when I was made aware that a family member, whom I love dearly, has been sitting around the kitchen table at all hours of the early morning because she hates her appearance so much that she can't sleep. And she's absolutely gorgeous. If you tell her that, she doesn't believe you. She just lists her flaws like a grocery order--pointing out things nobody else has noticed. Various dietary supplements and pills promising metabolism magic line her countertops, and she might try the manure diet if it claimed to shrink belly fat.

It's a whole different kind of disorder than any I'm familiar with. She eats well, works out and is in great health. But she sees what we can't. She can't look at herself logically.

I have no answers, only hugs. I tell her she's beautiful. And I mean it. And it's true. And it doesn't matter.

But what also will not matter are these magic medicines and inconsistent diets.

Friends, take it from someone who has gained and lost weight over the course of her life: The only way to safely lose weight and keep it off is to eat well and exercise. It's just a little math. You need to eat less than you burn. You need to exercise to increase your metabolism and keep your body healthy. Ignore the walk around the block B.S. You've got to move your ass!

"Whether it's from living or loving, I try to break a sweat every day."
--Matthew McConaughey

I say that, while also having some horrible photos of myself tucked away at the bottom of a Rubbermaid container in my basement. But what kept me from throwing them in the garbage or crying at my kitchen table at 4 a.m. was the amazing best friends in my life who always made me feel beautiful--or at least not gross.

I'm talking about the kind of friends who send you a card after not being able to talk regularly for two weeks (because they were doing something worthwhile like studying for grad school finals or teaching college classes!) Every time I passed that card this weekend, I smiled and told Larry, "I love Mary Beth." And every time there's a candle flickering during the morning service at church, I think of her wedding for some reason. I've wondered why--because there are a lot of candles at a lot of weddings--and the only thing I can come up with is that it's different when it's your best friend. It's so much more special when you watch the most loving girl you know on the happiest day of her life.

And Joe and Jocelyn. They're like West Coast rocks every time the Pacific tidal wave that is giddy Candy or stressed-out-about-the-book Candy decides to crash before receding. I treasure those phone calls and messages with Joe--even when they're rushed--because they're all so positive. And every time Jocelyn is home, everything feels more like home.

And BG. She's always there when you need her most--whether it's to remind you of the charter and opening words of the BG Constitution (Press Up) or to demand shots and brrrs. She's the rain after a drought of laughter.

And Jes and Lou. They kind of feel like the little sister and little brother I never had, but have. They pander to my darkest loves like Tacos & Tequila, and CCR and Cocktails. And I always just enjoy them.

And Mizz Looman. She's the kind of friend who is an ally. She is often without shame, but she's the best remedy for the worst day (and for imitating Tila Tequila).

And my brothers-in-law. I knew they were good apples from the times Larry and I would be watching TV in his parents' basement, and they'd come through saying, "Hey, Sis!" They both remain incredibly loyal and loving to Larry and me, and they're such proud and awesome uncles. Justin is like our second Netflix and is awesome to talk about music and movies with. Ryan is an everyman, who loves people, talking on porches, sharing beers and making people laugh.

And Linds and Joel. Regardless of how many weeks pass before we're in touch again, it's like no time has passed at all.

And Claudia, Emily and Alicia. So fun. So diverse. So much in common. So happy we became friends. (And so loving the dinners and drinks!)

And Joanne. It's impossible to feel anything but comfortable in her house. Couches magically suck you in as cups of tea appear in your hand.

And Mom and Mum. It's been an interesting road with both of them, but I wouldn't be happy without either of them. I'm so lucky to have both of them in my life, and I can't wait until Mother's Day week to celebrate their love.

And Cienna and Ty. What makes writing the book so incredible is because I get to write about my favorite subject--the miracle of life, new beginnings and the best blessings. I'm not sure it's possible to share all I've learned from raising my children in a matter of pages. And the only words I can ever think of when I look at them--even as one is getting in the shower and the other is crying for a drink while the phone is ringing and Larry is looking for his socks--is "You are, undoubtedly, the best thing that has ever happened to me."

And Lar. You could make a person insane. But you could make them laugh more than you could make them insane. And you could warm their heart more than you could make them laugh. And you could pleasantly surprise them more than you could warm their heart. And you could make them feel loved more than you could pleasantly surprise them. And more than all of that, any of that, you can make them love you because you're. just. so. incredibly. lovable. You're such an awesome husband--the kind people don't think are out there anymore. You're an awesome dad. And you're just destined to be an awesome pap. And I want to go through all of that with you, when it's great, when it's good and when it sucks. Because even when it sucks, it's fun.

So it's love, Friends. Love.

Semper Fi

We're going out of order on my list of reasons why I'm counting down to vacation, why I deserve vacation this year, to honor the memory of one of my favorite teachers and favorite people, Mr. J. Budd Grebb.

Everyone has something they remember most. Maybe it was that yearbook faculty photo of him sitting behind his desk, ready to pounce on any injustice or slacker that passed through his classroom. Maybe it was hearing him on the sidelines of a basketball game yelling "strike strike strike" while calling a play. Maybe it was his definition of D.O.A. Maybe it was his grades on all those maps you drew in his World Cultures class. Maybe it was winning or losing a Jeopardy match. Maybe it was one of his infamous quotes that he gathered during his "25 years worth of teaching and coaching." Maybe it was the nickname he gave you.

"Discipline. Organization. Attitude."

My nickname was Luella after Luella Parsons--a legendary Hollywood gossip columnist. Anytime he called on me to answer a question, which was often, he'd say, "Oh, Luella! What's the big news today?"

"Stand by the garbage, smell like trash."

Some days, we talked very little about the culture beyond that of our small town. But we got an education.

"Get out of the box."

The best days were when we'd start class by sitting in silence for maybe 10 or 15 minutes. Our seats faced the windows. His desk was angled toward us from the back-left corner of the room. There was a bulletin board and chalk board on either side of us. He'd say nothing. He'd just stare. And we'd wonder: Will he start class with quotes or culture?

"Not huhhhh. Excuse me. Pardon me. Please repeat."

At the time, we thought maybe they were exclusive of one another. But as we got older, I talked to many former classmates who found his words to be true.

"Pay now, play later. Play now, pay later."

For those who never had the pleasure of knowing him, I always likened him to English professor John Keating from the 1980s movie "Dead Poets' Society." Like Keating, if you listened to him, if you opened your mind to him, he inspired you to your best possible version--which was more than you thought possible.

"A woman's place is in the kitchen--or wherever the hell she wants to be!"

And like Keating, he did some politically incorrect things, which yielded some pressure from the school board for his early retirement. It was a school board meeting that attracted Pittsburgh's broadcast news stations, during which I was quoted on WTAE for comparing him to Keating, and what my friends and I believed at 17 to be a social injustice.

"Big shots are often low caliber."

Mr. Grebb may have left my classroom, but he didn't forget about me. He wrote to me often, thanking me for standing up for him, reminding me to never give up on what I want. And more importantly, he encouraged me to work for what I want.

"Liscipline."

Because of the latter, I never forgot him either. We exchanged holiday cards throughout college, and I, like many of my peers, visited him during holiday breaks and trips back to the Mon Valley. He was always so genuinely happy to hear we were doing well and truly respected us as the adults we had become, charting our own course.

"I may hear the piper, but I don't have to follow."

Now, on this evening, one day after his death, I'm so proud that our lives met for the time they did. As former classmates and alumni rush to find out funeral details to pay their respects, even before an obituary has been posted, it's so clear how many people feel the same way. He was the very definition of a legend. And his legacy lives on in each one of us who will remember him.

"Semper Fi."

Why I'm Counting Down: Primarily Exhausted

This is part one 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 this month.

I remember feeling guilty at the end of the semester sometimes. It was bittersweet to begin with because we were usually saying goodbyes, even if they were temporary, but we were also opening up our lives to a much-needed break. Many times, though, I felt like I didn't deserve that break. Had I skipped too many classes? Had I put too much focus on the wrong stories? Had I been too disorganized?

Despite all those failings, I managed to snag internships every year that were related to my major. The writing came easily, and I was also a pretty good bullshitter.

The latter was an inherited trait from home. That's not to say I got that from my mother or father, and that's not to say that bullshitting is lying. To me, it's a cultural art and a rite of passage from my hometown.

There, in perhaps the liver--not the heart--of Washington County, you'll find all kinds of women sitting on porches, or porch swings, or around the "kitchen table" as the political candidates so frequently say. They're talking, bullshitting, about the neighbors, about their lives, husbands, kids, friends, each other.

Nothing much gets accomplished because it's just bullshitting. Maybe you leave feeling a little fuller because there's always food on that table or porch. Sometimes, if you're lucky, there's a card game.

I thought of those women this week and wondered who they voted for, if at all. My hope was that they did more than sit on those porches or around those tables, talking about the issues, and actually went out to vote.

Washington County chose Hillary Rodham Clinton by 60 percent more than Barack Obama, a number that I don't find surprising at all. There are a lot of women there who champion for her, even if silently. They identify with her. And they want to see a woman in the White House. Not only would that be a victory for her, but also for them. For some, it's the best stand they can make against their not-so-great husbands or any man that has ever derailed their lives.

Of all the places I've visited across the state or country, the southwest corridor of Pennsylvania remains one of the most astounding to me. What amazing women can tolerate and put up with there is incredible. Most of the women there raised many children before it was fashionable for dads to be involved. They learned to be kitchen-table cardsharks while their better halves, or broken halves, had their shots and beers at very-local bars. Unlike my peers today, they didn't complain about working full-time, making it to all the school events, taking the kids to the playground, getting dinner on the table and cleaning the house--all before dad got home from doing GodKnowsWhat in GodKnowsWhere.

I'm not implying that those dads were cheating or with another woman. And I don't mean to portray every couple or person in that area as I've described. But every person from where I'm proud to say I grew up knows AT LEAST one woman the exact way I've written about her.

And they know the men who belonged to a gun club, Slovak club, summer softball club, boat club or sportsmen's club. We can all agree the majority of those men didn't vote for Sen. Obama. We can all agree the majority of those men didn't vote for Sen. Clinton. And even though they are probably registered democrats, we can all agree that the majority of those men will probably vote for McCain. Even if they oppose the war, which some of them probably don't. And they probably don't know how many soldiers have died there either. Even if they complain about the gas prices, while some of them buy diesel for their Ford and Chevy trucks. Even if they do kind-of care about the environment, though nearly all of them probably still throw their McDonald's bags along the shaded areas of Route 88. They will vote for McCain because he is a white man.

Many times since I moved from there, it's been difficult for me to go back. I have trouble keeping my mouth shut when I see or hear blatant injustice or ignorance. I used to raise my voice all along the Monongahela River. I've gotten into arguments with neighbors about homosexuality, racism, women's rights, parenting and addiction. Then I realized it was hopeless. You can't argue with a drunk. Nor can you reason with someone who prioritizes wing night above civil rights.

Perhaps what I found most surprising growing up there was that most of the people who I believed became quiet racists and not-so-quiet male chauvinists were actually the same people who championed for equality in the 60s and 70s. They once believed in going anywhere and doing anything.

But they ended up or chose to go home, maybe get a job in the mill, maybe start a small business, maybe raise their kids near their parents. And by choice or chance, they built a life there and earned their living there. I respect that, even if I don't always agree with it.

And I'm thankful for growing up around them, among them, and I'm thankful that my beliefs were always my own.

While my hometown voted like the majority of the state to elect Sen. Clinton by more than half, the town where I now call home elected Sen. Obama over Sen. Clinton.

A lot like playtime

The better weather has found me outside quite often lately. That's not to say my brighter disposition hasn't also been responsible for soaking up more of the sun and less of the Internet. But a warm, seemingly-stable environment can inspire the very best of me.

Cienna, Ty and I have been enjoying walking trails and appreciating nature. If parenting were judged like presidency, my legacy would definitely involve signing treaties with my kids to promise respect for diversity and nature. And, you know, with the latter, that's not because I remember to recycle every week or never leave a light on when I'm away. I'm just so serious about my kids getting outside and away from the media that inevitably consumes our lives.

Like any mom, I hope to leave my kids with a solid education, a health plan, happy memories and the ability to manage money. But there are so many intangibles that I believe really contribute to our emotional wealth. Like watching planes take off and dreaming of anywhere. Sitting around a bonfire with your best friends on nights you feel like you solve the world, or at least yourself. Driving home from work and having that a-ha moment when you realize you're in love with someone, and even if there were no rush hour you still wouldn't feel like you could get to them fast enough. Lazy Saturday afternoons with nobody but you and movies you know by heart, which you gladly quote like a dork from your favorite pajamas--that aren't hot at all. Building a network of people in your life who may only have you in common because they're just that different from each other, and you can't imagine your life without even one of them. Long walks around a short block, but it's the best walk because it's yours.

None of those things can truly happen in front of a computer, TV or video game. And I'm not anti-any of that. In fact, I enjoy all of those things. I just think they require balance. So I wouldn't have a ban on those in our house, but I'd encourage my kids to go out as much as they stay in.

Every time we go out, we ultimately end up at a park. There are many in our neighborhood, and I feel like half of them are near our house. We always stop to play, and Cienna always makes at least one friend. Tyler always stares cautiously before he takes off, giggling, to where he's decided most fun--a clear combination of Larry and me.

The sounds you hear at a playground for 30 minutes are really a lot like what you hear during a lifetime. There are people cultivating new relationships--sometimes it's two moms comparing Babies 'R Us to Target, sometimes it's two toddlers bonding over a see-saw. There are laughs--sometimes it's two dads discussing late-night talk shows they had to DVR because they're too tired to make it to 11 p.m., sometimes it's two preschoolers playing hide-and-go-seek. There are tears--sometimes it's because a parent saw their baby run through a field of dandelions for the first time, sometimes it's because said baby wasn't ready to leave. There are bruises and bee-stings. There are small snacks and full picnics. There's sunshine and shade.

And just like the see-saw, none of the ups or downs last too long.

Ol' Dirty Cantard

"Me and Mariah go back like babies and pacifiahs!" --Ol' Dirty Bastard on the "Fantasy" intro

Friends, raise your hand if you, too, go back with Mariah Carey like babies and pacifiahs! My hand is up. Is yours?

In one hour, I'll be watching the contestants of "American Idol" perform the popular culture that is the Mariah Carey songbook. I simply cannot wait to twitter (www.twitter.com) my way through what I expect to be a truly magical evening.

How can it not be? Let's look at some of the lyrics--with Ol' Dirty's intro being among the best, clearly:

"I feel good
I feel nice
I've never felt so
Satisfied"

--Emotions

What if we had only thought she felt good? It's great that she set us straight and sang to us that she also felt "nice."

"I need someone to hold on to
The kind of love that won't fly away
I just want someone to belong to
Everyday
Of my life
Always
So come and take me away"

--Dreamlover

Again, what if we had assumed she only wanted love every day and not "always" ...of her life?

"And it's just like honey
When you're love comes over me
Oh baby I've got a dependency
Always strung out for another taste of your honey
It's like honey when it washes over me
You know sugar never ever was so sweet
And I'm dying for ya, crying for ya, I adore ya
One hit of your love addicted me
Now I'm strung out on you darling
Don't you see
Every night and dayI can hardly wait
For another taste of honey
Honey I can't describe
How good it feels inside
Honey I can't describe
How good it feels inside"

--Honey

It's as though Shakespeare wrote it.

"Mmmmmm
Whoaaaaaa"

--Can't Take That Away (Mariah's Theme)

I couldn't match it.

"i gotta shake you off
just like the calgon commercial
i really gotta get up out of here
and go somewhere"

--Shake It Off

How proud was Calgon?


But, really, all sarcasm aside, I love Mariah. I grew up with Mariah. The proof is that I've dedicated today's blog to her when I have so much more I can be sharing--the weekend, the wedding, new friends, old friends, new engagements, new books. But I've chosen Mariah. (And I own many of her albums on cassettes, and all the greatest hits on CD. Not to mention that I love her newest hit "Touch My Body").

I can't wait to see what the Idols do in 30 minutes. You can read my minute-by-minute review on Twitter.

Some early predictions about who will sing what:

Brooke White: Hero --and she gets voted off on Wednesday because we're tired of the nice act.

Carly Smithson: Can't Let Go --and she'll do more runs than Mariah.

David Archuleta: One Sweet Day --and he'll make it a four-part harmony.

David Cook: Against All Odds (Take a Look at Me Now) -- and it won't matter if he's good or not because his brother with brain cancer will be in the audience. Who would let him get voted off?

Jason Castro: Without You -- and has his best night ever.

Kristy Lee Cook: Vision of Love --and twangs it out.

Syesha Mercado: When You Believe --and Randy will remind her she's not Whitney.

Ending this week on a severly-positive note

And she was...

I made a new friend today, and it was the kind of experience that just feels like perfect timing. We were playing with our kids in the park, and we just started talking. About neighborhoods, elementary schools, walking, farmer's markets, spirituality vs. religion, living simply, camping, emotional bank accounts, learning not to worry, learning to let go. Every word she said was a thought I recently had, and it became the proper definition of friendship because it was about common interests. And it was nice. I look forward to seeing her again.

Thanks, Sue.

And there's reason to believe...

Cienna, Ty and I were taking one of our spring walks around the neighborhood recently when I heard the beautiful piano intro to the Counting Crows "A Long December." If you know me well, you know my attachment to that song and how many times it accompanied me on a trip to New York. Cienna seemed to follow the music, and we eventually came upon an opened bay window to see and hear a man inside playing that song beautifully on a baby grand piano. I couldn't hold Cienna back as she ran over to the window and started twirling around in the yard, which got Ty really excited and dancing in his stroller. The man stopped playing, as I tried to rush Cienna off his lawn. But he invited us in. My instincts said it would be fine. We went inside, and of course he had a dog, and of course it was adopted, and of course the kids loved the said dog. We exchanged small talk, which revealed that I can sing. So he played, and I sang that song in a way I didn't know I could. And I hung onto different lyrics. He played some showtunes, and Cienna and I sang together. He invited Larry and I over for wine. Of course he did. Larry suggested I take Pe-En instead. Of course he did. And of course Pe-En will. I'm sure it will be love at first glass.

"I can't remember/ all the times I've tried to tell myself to hold on/ to these moments/ as they pass"

And really, is there anything more perfect than live music on a nice day?

And I'm proud to be an American...

It doesn't matter what I think about the war. It doesn't matter which political candidate I support. What matters is how I felt during the home opener ceremonies when military uniforms and our flag decorated the bases and the military fly-over was perfect above. Those three planes zoomed overhead, and I held back tears. It was just so moving and meaningful. Regardless of what side you're on, we're all on the same side when it comes to feeling pride and honor for the brave men and women who stand guard to protect us each day.

And cherish til death do you part...

I talked to Mia today while she was getting her nails done with her very-soon-to-be sister-in-law, and I was just so excited for her. I was on yet another spring walk with the kids along Washington Road, holding my cell phone to my ear and just smiling all over the place. I was filled with so much joy for her and the new life she is beginning. The groom is Larry's best friend, and it's so wonderful to be able to share the weekend with them. They are great people and have been there for us at all of our pinnacle moments--wedding, in the hospital with Ty guy, birthdays, holidays, lazy days. :-) I can't wait to hear them say "I do." I'm sure I'll cry. Not because I cry at most weddings, but also because I know what Larry's friend means to him and all the memories they've shared. MB's wedding was awesome for the same reason (and also because Larry and I stayed in a room with three of my best friends and talked ourselves to sleep). And before we hung up, I couldn't help thinking about getting my nails "did" with my bridesmaids (except MK who was working) and laughing about the good ol' Asian place where BGBG got their nails DID on Forbes Avenue, Downtown. Wedding Days are amazing days because of love--that which is shared between both lovers and friends.

And here's to you...

While going through one of the Rubbermaid containers in my basement, I found one of the cards I used to exchange back and forth with my best friend from high school. It said "You are loved" on it, and we frequently sent it back and forth during our first semester of college. She was at Virginia Tech. I was at Point Park. We'd send the best care packages to each other and always exchanged the most hilarious email. But so sweet was the "You are loved" card, and I think everyone should be reminded of that from time to time. So here's some "you are loved" for your emotional bank accounts, Friends.

What a day, what a week, I'm in love!

Hello, Friends! (and Yinzers!)

I'm getting ready to go to the home opener with Lar and Friends. You know where I will be afterward. You know that I will sing backup on "Roadhouse Blues." You know that there will be a 45-minute version of Wild Cherry's "Play that Funky Music." You know there will be Hebrew Nationals.

We have a gorgeous, sunny day here, full of promise and spring's beginnings. And I'm proud of how we've made the home opener less about baseball and more about spring.

Lar would tell you he's just in it for the beer and camaraderie, and that his day is more about the NHL playoff draft later with his friends.

I'd like to add that while he's doing that, I will be acting a fool with aforementioned comrades and the drummer of Wild Cherry. Because it's Opening Day. And my mom is with the children.

Also of major importance this week--NHL playoffs! The Pens open Wednesday at home against the Senators. I'll see you there. But I'll be working...counting advertisements...counting Yinzers.

But, really, we all know what this week is about. Idol Cares, ladies and gentlemen. We have four days of caring. Tonight, Paula, Randy, Ryan and Simon (and Theodore) will be on Larry King Live. I'm sure the earth will move when they discuss Simon's new $1 million dollar car and how much he cares about kids in Africa. Paula will say they look great in mosquito nets. Randy will say they are his dawgs. Ryan will be the only one with anything intelligent to say and who actually cares. Tuesday, the 8 finalists compete with "inspirational" songs. Who thinks David Archuleta will sing Josh Groban? Raise your hand. Or maybe Martin Page's "In the House of Stone and Light." Wednesday is when we actually care--from 7:30 to 10 p.m., eastern time. Thursday is the elimination, and then we stop caring until next year. As promised and expected, I'll be tweeting throughout all of it.

It's going to be an interesting week in the Woodall house. Larry is all about the playoffs. I'm all about everything. Let's hope I can convince Larry to join me in caring because right now this is his view:

"Idol may care, but I don't."

"And yes I will be present on the first day of school/ and grad-u-ation" --Outkast, "Ms Jackson"

Preschool snacks, not world peace

It was like playing an April Fools' joke on myself. I had the apple-cinnamon rice snacks all ready to go, Cienna was excited to be the helper taking snack to preschool that day, and Ty did not poop right before we left the house. I thought things were going swimmingly.

But then...the dreaded words in the preschool community: "This product made in facility where nuts are packaged."

Unlike our previous time as snacksters, the Woodalls were thwarted by those with allergies.

After apologizing to the preschool teachers at least 14 times, we realized that Teddy Grahms would be a fine substitute. I was amazed. Apples, cinnamon, rice...they seem so untouched by the nut.

I felt so terrible. I should've caught that. I should've done a better job with snack. Suddenly, Cienna's entire life flashed before my eyes--all of which was totally derailed by me not reading the packaging properly.

Before my wandered too far into her doing heroin on a subway because I wasn't attentive enough, the teacher snapped me out of it by saying, "Oh my goodness, Candy, stop! It's not a big deal! It's a preschool snack, not world peace!"

I love that lady.

Seasons of Love

"How do you measure, measure a year?"

I remember Cienna's first day of school so clearly. I didn't have to wake her up because she was up since 6 a.m., waiting to meet "all the new friends." It was sunny and sticky, a very balmy September Tuesday. We walked to school together, as I strapped on Ty in the baby carrier. She looked so grown up with her backpack on. I always thought it was a cliche, but they really do grow up so fast. One day you're wearing them in what looks like a backpack, and the next they are walking into school with one on their back. I think she might have had only one pencil, three stickers and a Barbie doll in that backpack, but she was so proud to tell me what a big girl she was. And watching your child walk into school for the first time is an incredible moment because it is essentially the first time they are walking away from you. And it is also a parent trusting their child's education to someone else for a while. We were really lucky to find a Christian preschool with such loving, intelligent, experienced teachers. But it's still the moment that you know things will really speed up because you start measuring time by school years, and they pass so quickly. It will be the first day of kindegarten, junior high, high school and college before we know it.

She has learned SO much this year. She can read and write her first and last name, and she also recognizes and writes several other words. She loves to write all the names she knows in the family. She's very observant and intuitive. Her vocabulary is ridiculous for a 4 year old. The girl loves three-syllable words. I wonder if it's her gene pool or what she picks up from listening to me. She DID address the other students as "Friend" when she met them, the same way my friends and I address each other.

By the way, I'm noticing that has caught on since 1999. I hear other groups of friends use it, and Ryan Seacrest has been addressing people as such too. See what you started, MBS? I mean, MBW. Well, to be fair, A.A. Milne started it with "Winnie the Pooh."

Also a product of this school year, she has given us so much art to decorate our home with. And some of it is now displayed that way. They make projects every week, and I love that. I've kept all of them, mainly to see the progression of coloring with one color all over the place, to multiple colors inside the lines, to writing "to mommy" "love cienna" on the page. I don't take even one of those pictures for granted.

Next year, she will go to preschool four days a week at the same place. But she will have different teachers and some different classmates. What a lesson she learns as they say goodbye at the end of the next month--goodbye for the summer for some, and for much longer for others.

And how proud and moved am I to see her successfully finish her first year of school. My little girl is growing up. But like Jim Walsh said to Brenda Walsh on 90210, after he found a pregnancy test in the garbage, "You'll always be my little girl."

"Remember a year in the life of friends."

Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements.

Baz Luhrmann's "Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen)" was my high school graduation song. Everyone in my class got a copy on cassette. I still have mine. I always thought we should've received a bottle of sunscreen to go along with it.

Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of 99...

Wear Sunscreen

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it.The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experienceI will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth; oh nevermind; you will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded. But trust me, in 20 years youll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you cant grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked.Youre not as fat as you imagine.

Dont worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing everyday that scares you.

Sing.

Dont be reckless with other peoples hearts, dont put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss

Dont waste your time on jealousy; sometimes youre ahead, sometimes youre behind the race is long, and in the end, its only with yourself.

Remember the compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you succeed in doingthis, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch

Dont feel guilty if you dont know what you want to do with your lifethe most interesting people I know didnt know at 22 what they wanted to do withtheir lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds know still dont.

Get plenty of calcium.

Be kind to your knees, you'll miss them when theyre gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you wont, maybe you'll have children, maybe you wont, maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. What ever you do, dont congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself eitheryour choices are half chance, so are everybody elses. Enjoy your body,use it every way you can dont be afraid of it, or what other people think of it,its the greatest instrument you'll ever own..

Dance even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room.

Read the directions, even if you dont follow them.

Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents, you never know when theyll be gone for good.

Be nice to your siblings; they are the best link to your past andthe people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go,but for the precious few you should hold on.Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography in lifestyle because the older you get,the more you need the people you knew when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard;live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.

Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old, and when you do youll fantasize that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Dont expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund,maybe you have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one might run out.

Dont mess too much with your hair, or by the time its 40, it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than its worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen...

It's official: I'm a soccer mom

One of the things I love so much about being a mom is watching my children experience the joys in life for the first time. I'll never forget the first time either of my children saw their first snow or felt their first rain, and it's true that a little part of the parent feels that all over again for the first time. It's so incredibly beautiful to see them appreciate, in wonder, such a simple moment in life that so many of us either take for granted or complain about.

I'm sure many of us will agree that childhood summers are perhaps the second-best period of time in life behind parenthood and marriage. How great was it to go home early on the last day of school, looking forward to playing outside til dark, amusement parks, swimming, vacations, outdoor games, camp, Bible school, picnics and drive-ins.

I love making some of these summer dreams come true for my kids. And we're blessed to live in a community with an awesome recreation center that is always planning fun things. Cienna is signed up for both the spring youth soccer program, which runs May through June, and the t-ball program, which runs June through July.

The rec center also hosts concerts and movies in the park, which I find charming.

Summer dance camp will also be part of Cienna's time off from school, but that is one of my mom's gifts to her.

And I can't wait to see how Ty's first experience in a sandbox goes. I can only imagine his face when he puts his feet in the sand for the first time. And his feet are so ticklish! Here's hoping it stays in the box and not in his mouth or anyone's eyes! I'm sure a lot of his summer will involve me chasing him and him learning to swim!

Larry and I just want to give both of them the best summer that we can. We want them to have awesome, happy childhoods, punctuated with fun-filled summers that know nothing of grownup responsibilities or the problems facing the world. And those smiles that follow are proof positive that children are precious, perfect and innocent angels with nothing but love to give.

I do believe that same loving preciousness still exists somewhere within all of us, and I think we all have a little kid left in us whenever summer rolls around and we slip on the flip-flops.

Here's to sunshine, love and the kid in all of us!