Goin back to Cali

So in the wonderful adventure that is my life, I am going to California for work next week. I will be leaving on Saturday and returning the following Sunday. BUT I am taking the family with me!

That's right the whole famn damily is going to San Diego with me. Because my brother and his family live there and my folks will be meeting us there. A big 'ol reunion.

So many things can go wrong with the mix of people that I cannot even dwell on that. Something will go wrong, we will fight, we will stop talking to each other and maybe we'll have enough time to get over it, maybe not.

So... instead I will worry about the flight. And the time change. And my two little dears and what they will do to revolutionize the airline industry as we know it.

Maya had been on several planes by the time she was Dean's age. He has only flown one other time. And he was SO young that most people didn't even know he was there.

Now I am sure that the entire plane will be aware of his presence!

We paid the extra for the separate seat, will be packing food and fun galore. Keeping in mind that I will not be giving him Benadryl (at least on the flight out, I may be singing a different song on the way back) do you have any suggestions for long flights and little ones?

Oh and...
After California I am home for three weeks, then off to New Orleans and then I am home for the rest of the year - actually until Spring! I cannot wait for this mess to be over!

you've got to have faith

I was a huge WHAM! fan.
But this post is about GOD.

This is a topic I have been thinking about lately. Maya asked me about birds and why they fly and why some birds are bigger than others and etc etc etc.

And I thought. "wouldn't it be nice if I could just say - because God made it that way."

So I am formulating my own answers.

I take comfort in the idea that we are all a part of some bigger picture but I am not sure that means I believe in God.

I believe in us.

As a species, a planet, a world.

I believe that we are all are truly connected.

And I don't think that means that we all have the same "father". I think that means we all have the same joys, purposes and end results.

We are all striving toward a better world. For ourselves, for our children.

What that perfect, better world is may change from person to person. Happiness afterall is in the yey of the beholder.

I want my children to understand and be confident in their choices. Not because God tells them what is wrong and right. And ultimately, not because I tell them. But because they have decided their own "commandments" and have decided to live by them.

I want to raise thinking, questioning individuals. And so I have to be prepared with some answers.

"Do you believe in God?"

I guess my answer is that I do not believe in the commonly held belief in God. I do not believe in a judging and "all seeing" God. Beyond that - I just don't know.

And neither does anyone else.

So to my children I say - ask away.

I am still asking.

I will die asking.

More importantly.

I will live asking.

Housecleaners

Apparently on a few blogs there has been some discussion on the ethics of employing someone else to clean your home. Well I want to chime in here. My house cleaner is my hero.

She makes my house this clean smelling sanctum once every two weeks and has ended the constant arguing that my husband and I had on the subject of what clean really is.

He was under the impression that as long as it was straight, it was clean. And I don't care what people say about equality, if you walk into a dirty home you look to the woman of the house and wonder how SHE could live like this.

There are two truths about my house keeping situation.
1. I work outside of the home from 8am-6:30pm Mon - Friday
2. I am sloppy by nature

So I pay someone to come in to:
clean my bathrooms
clean my kitchen
and vacuum my stairs

She and her merry band of three do other stuff too but those are the ones I am happiest about when I come home from work and my house smells like lemony goodness.

So my basic feel is this. If you can afford it, do it. And if you can afford it - tip well at the end of the year.

I would probably pay her to come every week if I was making the only one making that decision, but every other week works for me, for her, and for my husband. And he really enjoys how happy I am each cleaning day.

Oh so here is my works for me thursday (which is in fact my cleaning day!). I always point out to my daughter that the cleaning lady has come and we say "thank you cleaning lady" when we notice something neat and clean. I want her to be appreciative of all the things that people do for her and for us.

It has also back fired because Maya has on more than one occasion blamed the cleaning lady for something missing, broken or moved. Oh well. You do what you can.

Oh and my cleaner's name is Marie and though I have never met her, I love her.

He's 2.5

Dean went for his 18 month check up and he is off the charts in height. 35.5 inches! Which according to my doctor makes him above average height for a two and a half year old.

My little boy amazes me daily. And he is getting the shaft as is only apparent in the second child (speaking from experience). He has less photos, only one page in his scrap book (she broke double digits at least) and less video footage.

So what is he up to?

Well he is SMART. And I hate to compare but there is just no way she was this smart at this age. He will grab my hand and pull me to something when he catches an off handed "where are my..." question. He knows, and he is pleased as punch to show you.

He adores his sister and she delights in making him laugh. Which is not difficult. He is quick to laugh, prolific with hugs and barely pauses for full fledged bodily damage.

What a boy he is. Content to play by himself but so excited to share the world with those around him. He will play with a ball with the dogs and clap proudly when he makes a good throw, then launch himself at you for a hug before plunging right back in again.

The world is fun and filled with laughter with the little boy in it.

Tim is so proud of the little mohawk man that follows him around and will shrug his shoulders with his palms out and ask "dadda?" when he hasn't seen him for awhile or he thinks he should be home and he isn't.

But oh he loves mama. Such a snuggler. He curls himself into my shoulder and rests his head in the crook of my neck and he is usually content to stay there for quite a while, just loving me.

And he is a brat.

He kicks the dogs, snags toys out of his sister's hand and laughs hysterically when she gets upset. He pulls hair, slaps faces and has on one occasion (one occasion) bitten me.
He is hyper, fails to listen and tends to pull all the toys out of the box, all the books off the shelf and all the clothes from the drawer.


And then he will help me clean them up, clutch on to my leg or my hand and settle into my lap for a story before bed.

As I close the door to his room he will watch me with his big blue eyes and suck quietly on his "in bed only" pacifier. When I close the door, he will turn quietly into his pillow and put himself to sleep.

He is adorable, frustrating and very loved.

He will be a teenager tomorrow, but boy am I loving the boy today.