Cooking with kid? and other stuffs....

Ok, ok, I KNOW this blog's been a little schmoopy lately, and I KNOW I've barely been writing anyway, but I promise you, oh ye faithful reader(s??), I am hard at work creating a site focused more on writing and less on kid stuff, and also am putting the finishing touches on my book so that I can send it out into the ether to get mean rejection letters (from which I will learn BIG THINGS, I am sure...).

But I just have to share this one more sweet Zoe story because it makes me happy. Maybe it make you happy too?

So...here goes...

Charles had to work late tonight, which used to be grounds for me to panic. Back in the day, it was terrifying...a late afternoon by myself when I'm already exhausted from work, and Zoe is cranky from a full day at school? Too much to handle. (I have nothing but the utmost admiration for single parents, by the way...I don't know how y'all do it!)

Tonight, we really didn't have much to do. I'd decided on homemade personal pizzas for dinner, and didn't feel all that rushed to get anything done.

So I picked Zoe up from school, and she was in a fabulous mood. We giggled the whole way home (mostly over nonsense words). When we got home, we took care of the dogs, did a little cleaning up, and then it was time to start dinner.

I'm not typically one to stop and smell the roses. I always feel rushed, like there's not enough time to get everything done well, so I have to half-ass most things. This is sort of ironic considering one of my favorite movie quotes is the famous Ferris Bueller line: Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

Usually, when Zoe "helps" me with something, it stresses me out because I know it's actually going to take twice as long for us to do together as it would for me to do it on my own. It's not a personal trait of which I am proud.

But for some reason (perhaps making it through a super-stressful meeting at work today?), I was super-chill tonight. Even Zoe noticed and told me I was relaxed (which sounds REALLY WEIRD from the mouth of a three-year-old). And so, I let her help me cook.

While I sliced onions, she pulled the stems out of mushroom caps. While I sliced mushroom caps, she watched and directed. When I spent ten minutes trying to open a jar of artichoke hearts, she cracked up hysterically because Mommy wasn't strong enough.

By that time, there were mushroom crumbles all over the counter and floor, but I didn't care. Floors are easily cleaned, right? And when it was time to assemble the pizzas, I let Zoe do most of the work.

She spread sauce. She sprinkled onions and cheese. I handled the artichokes (ok, I drew the line at oily artichokes...I do have my limits, you know), but then she decorated with the mushroom slices. She even spread the Feta on top (For the record, Zoe would eat a whole box of Feta in one sitting if I let her. I had to watch carefully to make sure ANY Feta made it to the pizzas!).

By then, the cat was enjoying a feast of dropped cheese, I was happily drinking red wine, and Zoe was having a great time! And so was I! I was actually, legitimately cooking with my kid!!

Who knew?

So....my advice to those of you who are always too busy (like me)...take some time and relax sometimes. You'll have an unexpectedly good time! I *almost* promise!

********************

And by the way...did you SEE that USA vs. Brazil soccer game on Sunday? Charles and I watched it and it was AMAZING! Seriously, when the US scored that goal in the closing seconds of the second overtime...I almost cried. The hell with people who say women's sports aren't exciting - that was the most exciting sporting even I've ever seen!! USA! USA!!

ANDDDD....Charles ordered me George R.R. Martin's latest book, A Dance With Dragons, and even though it's officially released tomorrow, thanks to Amazon.com's brilliance, I have it in my hands TONIGHT!! Charles is officially my hero, and I'm taking a night off from editing so I can just....go...read.

Good night!

FIREWORKS!!!

Hello, and happy July 4th to you! I hope this day has found you happy and healthy!

We've had quite the holiday weekend. Each day has included beach or pool, and I'd almost say I'm finally a blonde again.

I am...utterly exhausted.

But today was...fabulous!

So...having July 4th fall on a "school night" is kind of rough when you're a working parent with a three-year-old. You want to let them experience the full effect of cookouts and fireworks and the awe that you (ok, I...) remember as a child. But you (I) know how quickly 6 a.m. comes, and how hard it will be to get your kid out of bed the following morning. So you (I) are (was) torn.

I was excited when Charles agreed to host a small cookout at our place, but we still went back and forth over fireworks. I wanted to drive about 30 minutes to watch the professional shows from the back porch of the house in which Charles's mom and grandfather grew up, which is today owned by his cousins. He wanted to shoot off some fireworks in our back yard instead.

That option...sort of made me nauseated.

Because I grew up in New JERSEY, where fireworks set off by anyone without a license and a county-sponsored show are ILLEGAL, and even SPARKLERS are ILLEGAL and it just doesn't feel right to light my own damn fireworks.

But that was the option that won, and it turns out one of our neighbors is a certified pyromaniac, so she had a STASH of fireworks to add to the little $30 kit we purchased yesterday on our way home from the beach.

So we had our cookout, which was super-fun. Charles's mom even got out to play some soccer with Zoe, and our neighbors and their kids had a great time hanging out in our back yard. We all ate a lot, and I only had one glass of wine due to a mimosa incident yesterday, and all was well.

Then the sun went down. Charles and our neighbors Monica and Jamie took turns setting off fireworks. And Zoe was delighted.

And I? Well, I got a bucket of water. I got out the fire extinguisher. I even contemplated getting Zoe to put on her Spiderman bicycle helmet. I jumped at every boom. I flinched as each bottle rocket flew off in a different direction.

But then...it got better. I got a bit more comfortable, especially when I realized practically ALL our neighbors with children had made the same choice, and fireworks were going off all around us, and really, if they could do it, why couldn't we?

The only time I paused for a moment was when I came inside about halfway through to check on the dogs. Quentin, my 'fraidy-cat dog who panics at the slightest rumble of thunder, was relaxing calmly in our laundry room. He gave me a look as I came in..."Whatcha worried about, Leah??"

So then I went looking for Molly. She wasn't downstairs. I headed upstairs, expecting her to be hiding next to my bed.

Nope.

I started to get a little worried. "Molly? Molly?" I couldn't find her, so I called louder.

Then I heard a rustle in Zoe's bathroom. I found Molly, shaking, terrified, laying in the bathtub. I think that if she'd been able to, she'd have had a bucket of water nearby. She'd have had a fire extinguisher. I have no doubt she'd have had a helmet on.

I could TOTALLY understand.

But at least I knew she was safe. I patted her on the head and said something that was, I'm sure, not even remotely soothing, and went back out to watch the rest of the show. Even if we stopped our show then, the neighborhood would still be booming.

And now? It's 10:30. Zoe is in bed, but not yet sleeping. I figure we have a 50/50 shot of actually making it to school and work on time tomorrow. But you know what? DIY fireworks are actually FUN! No one got hurt (well, Charles *does* have that one burn on his hand...), and we had a great time.

All without the crowds on the beaches, or having to deal with drunk drivers on the roads, or getting home even later because we are stuck in traffic...

So I have a feeling we'll be doing this again next year. Bigger and better, as Charles just informed me.

An ode to balance (or lack thereof)...

In my office, there are weekly lunchtime yoga classes. I love yoga, but don't love the idea of doing it at work, so I don't participate. Still, I occasionally run into the teacher when I have a meeting in the conference room immediately following the class.

One day, another coworker was chatting with the teacher when I wandered into the room. They were talking about yoga (shocker!!), and asked me if I practiced.

Ever looking for a moment of amused self-degradation, I laughed and said, "Yep, most days. But I tend to fall over a lot."

The teacher laughed, too, which made me feel good, but then she said, "You know, that's probably a good thing. I mean, with yoga, if you play it safe, you'll never fall down. But if you push yourself to the next level, to go just a little further with a pose... well, sometimes you fall, but you almost always get better."

I kept laughing...but I also thought about what she said afterwards, because it had the ring of a Major Life Lesson. Because...well...she was right...

I mean, look at me. I have a reasonably full plate even at my baseline daily routine. I am mother to an almost-three-year-old, super-active girl. I am a wife to a man who loves to talk about music and books and, this week, trees. I work near-full-time hours, and I have a house and dogs and cats to take care of. Lots of laundry, lots of ball throwing, lots of cooking, lots of dirty dishes.

But I can balance it. No problem.

But it's not quite enough for me.

So last year I started working on my "writing career" (in quotes because I've yet to publish anything other than this blog)...and my yoga...so that every night, after dinner was eaten and baths were given and the dogs were fed and the child was in bed, I had a full night's work ahead of me. A thirty minute workout and at least an hour of writing were added to my daily routine. Because I had to push my limits to see what would happen.

And...I definitely fall down sometimes, there's no doubt about it. Sometimes the pressure of daily life builds up until I'm ready to explode, or punch someone. The guilt over never quite doing any ONE THING to the best of my ability, including parenting Zoe, sometimes makes me cry.

But sometimes...I feel better. I get better. In the past year, I've lost about 5 pounds, gained a bunch of muscle and flexibility, and I've written a whole novel. And Zoe hasn't fallen apart. She knows I love her, and she gets as many hugs and kisses as she can handle on any given day. Charles and I still get along great (most days) and have fun times on random date nights or just hanging out on our couch together, watching TV.

So I think, most days, that I've gotten better. But then, sometimes something throws me off balance. And then I fall back down again.

Like tonight. Tonight we got home super-late. I had a haircut appointment that I desperately wanted to keep, and instead of taking two cars to work, which would have allowed Charles and Zoe to get home on time, we took one car since the weather was supposed to be terrible. Quentin, my dog, was inside our laundry room instead of in his outside dog run, again due to weather. By the time we got home, he'd pooped and yakked all over the crate in his room (probably due to fear of thunderstorms), and it smelled like death. So I cleaned that up (he is my dog). Then I made dinner. Then Zoe was wired and didn't want to go to bed. Then even when she was in bed, she kept needing just one more thing. Then I couldn't do a silly yoga pose I've been working hard to master. Then I procrastinated working on my book by writing this post. Then I realized I'm just all-around tired from a few nights of interrupted sleep.

Yep, tonight, I'm falling down.

But tomorrow, I'll get back up. And maybe I'll get even better.

Easter Weekend - the good, the bad, the chocolatey

So. Easter Weekend was about as technically perfect a weekend as my life can ever provide. I thought it would be fun to share it here, along with the various ways my stupid moods tried to mess it all up.

It's all in good fun, though. You know me - I'm not happy if I'm not being snarky.

So.

I start my weekends on Fridays, which is how I like it. About nine months ago, I cut my work hours back to "part time," which in this case still means a good 32 hours on any given week. But I have my Fridays off, which is basically priceless.

Friday was a STORMY day (it actually hailed here the night before!!), so Zoe and I had time to kill at home, inside, which is typically not my favorite thing. I like being outside. But luckily, we had to prepare for a class Easter egg hunt the next day, so we spent our day making chocolate muffins, eating chocolate chips, stuffing plastic eggs, eating candy corn, and watching Monsters, Inc. A movie on a weekday morning? Score!! Actually, Zoe called Monsters, Inc. "Monsters Hank," I think in honor of my cubemate at work. It made me laugh.

The next day was the Easter egg hunt for Zoe's little class at school, and I woke up...on the wrong side of the bed...to say the least. I was feeling rough, and everything Charles and Zoe said was rubbing me the wrong way. It was hot. And muggy. My hair was out of control. I was pissy.

But there was lots of fun to be had at the hunt anyway (when I wasn't whining about the heat or my hair, anyway). Zoe "found" lots of eggs - they were just scattered all over the ground, so it wasn't that hard to find them - and insisted on opening every one of them. And then insisted on arguing with me over whether or not she should be allowed to eat all that candy. And the arguing...pissed me off.

But I won.

The outing wasn't improved for me by a trip to Earth Fare on the Saturday before Easter. It was busy, crowded, and generally annoying. But we persevered and came away with all we needed for our Easter Feast the next day.

Zoe didn't take a nap, and I went on a cleaning spree, then went on a run at 3:00 on a hot, sweaty day. Not my best idea, but I made it without passing out, so that was good. And I felt better. So I was therefore MUCH nicer for the rest of the day. (I think.)

Which included Zoe playing in the sprinkler in the back yard while Charles and I sat on lawn chairs and listened to Jimmy Buffet. He drank beer; I was still re-hydrating after my ill-advised run. When "Margaritaville" came on, I was finally happy - I associate that song with a trip my family took when I was about Zoe's age, and was thrilled to think that we're passing that music on to her. Sweet, right?

Anyway, Zoe was super-pumped for the Easter Bunny's annual visit, and she was tired from no nap and lots of sprinkler-time, so she passed out early for once. We set up her Easter treats (the child got WAY more than is necessary for any almost-three-year-old, but I have no one but myself to blame for that one!), watched Harry Potter 7.1, then went to bed. I was really happy the day had turned around for me...I hate feeling so icky. It's unpleasant for all three of us.

Easter Sunday included a family run/walk, LOTS more outside time with Zoe's new sprinkler and jump rope (that jump rope is the best $0.99 I ever spent!), a kite, bubbles and more Easter egg hunts. It was a fairly traditional Easter Sunday in my book...and that's coming from a Jew! Ha!

One of the highlights of my day, though, was watching Zoe curl up on the couch next to my dad (her Pops!) to watch The Wizard of Oz. It reminded me of all the hours I spent as a child in that exact same spot, and it made me SO happy to see. In case you can't tell, I love traditions, and I'm happy to pass them on.

And then....well...I ate WAY too much chocolate and had a stomach ache for the rest of the night....the one tradition I could have lived without. Leave it to me, right? Ouch!

So...mood swings and stomach aches aside, it really was a lovely time for my family, and I'm glad of it. People need all the lovely times they can get!

My life, (not) a sitcom

So...did you ever have one of those days?

You know...those super-fun, utterly exhausting days that leave you wondering what the heck happened and where your bed is by, oh, say, eight o'clock? (Embarrassing but true, right??)

Today was one of those days. It felt like we did a little bit of everything; farmer's market downtown in the morning (Yay farmer's market!!! So glad you're open again!!), some errands, then some cleaning in the afternoon, some more errands, and then a big dinner. Any piece of it could have been cut out (Did I really need to experiment with my new Indian cookbook today? Well, the shrimp and chili sauce I made was totally worth it!), but then the day wouldn't have been quite as MUCH, and I liked how MUCH it was.

Yeah.

BUT, fun as it was, by the time dinner was over, and a totally-wound-up Zoe was finally in bed, I was kind of a wreck. I wanted to sit on the couch and groan incoherently, but there were two things standing in my way.

1. Charleston has suddenly reverted to two-shower-a-day weather, where it's so hot and muggy that you have to shower in the morning AND before you go to bed. I was a hot, sticky mess.

and

2. Charles was watching Bill Maher on our only TV, and as much as I love Bill Maher, he and his panel were all busily, passionately YELLING at each other and I just...wanted...quiet.

So I headed upstairs. And eventually was grateful that my life is not a sitcom...

I will set the scene...

Earlier in the day, I showered, but I didn't wash my hair...it's too long to wash every day now...and I did try to straighten it, but after 15 hours of Charleston humidity, it was a wavy, poofy disaster. I'd tried ponytails. Messy buns. A headband. Nothing would tame it. So about an hour ago, I'd had it, and I finally put it into two French braids, my favorite style when I was about six years old. Classy.

Then, after I showered for the SECOND time today, I decided it was time to have a little me-time...Charles was snoozing on the couch, so what ELSE was I going to do with my wild and crazy Saturday night? So I put on my jammies and rummaged around my cabinet to see what nice things I could do.

First, I found my foot lotion, and since my feet make me crazy in the summer (I swear, I must be part leper, partnered with a super-rare strain of dry skin), I decided to take care of them. The lotion I have is really greasy, though, so I have to put socks on after I use it to keep from leaving coconut-scented footprints throughout my house. So now, I am in jammies (a dress), white cotton socks, and my hair is in braids.

Such hotness, I know.

Then I found one of those face-conditioning mask-thingies, and decided to use it to take care of my skin. It's a clear mask, not the ugly purple or green ones you've probably seen on movies, but it makes my face look remarkably like shiny plastic when it's drying, so I typically hide out when applying it. Again, Charles was sleeping; what did I have to lose? So now, jammies, white cotton socks, braids and a shiny, plasticine face.

Beauty personified.

Then I needed to kill a little time while the mask dried. I busted my butt with a yoga workout and some running yesterday, and I've been really sore all day. I decided to try some restorative yoga poses, the first of which involved scooting my butt up to a wall, laying on my back and propping my legs straight up against the wall. If someone was filming and turned the camera, it would have look like I was sitting on the wall with my back leaning on the floor. (Great stretch for the hamstrings and calves, by the way.)

So now, picture this. Jammies. White cotton socks. Braids. Shiny, plasticine face. Laying on the floor with my feet sticking straight up in the air.

Suddenly I imagined my life as a sitcom. My husband (I'll assume it's Ray Romano, only because Charles sometimes says his voice sounds like Ray's when he hears it played back on videos) would walk into the room, wanting to snuggle or talk or something, ANYTHING, and he'd see me on the floor.

Cue double-take. Horrified expression. Cue husband turning on his heel, running away from his bizarrely clad, vaguely terrifying wife.

Cue laugh track.

It was enough to crack me up, and also make me doubly glad Charles was, in reality, still sleeping on the couch. Now he'll only know of that moment by reading about it...tomorrow...once I've taken out the braids and taken off the socks and look MUCH more like the girl I typically am.

Happy Saturday night. Hope it's wild and crazy!

The dangers inherent in childhood programming

I never knew what a lifesaver a television could be when you have a toddler in the house.

Does that make me a bad mom?

Hear me out...when kids are sick or over-tired, or when you just. need. a. break. there is nothing better than just letting them relax in front of a show.

I also never knew how easily my own feathers (and Charles's) could get ruffled by the things which appear on TV, or by the things which come out of my own mouth (and Charles's). It's insane, how much I want to keep Zoe the sweet and innocent little booger that she currently is, and how much life seems to combat that desire!

Think about it. Zoe currently loves (LOVES!!!) the movie Annie, and I know I loved it when I was small, too. I remember belting out "Tomorrow" nonstop when I was three, and I totally wanted to be an orphan. I was thrilled that Zoe loves it so much, too.

But then, the first time Charles sat down to watch it with us, he (an Annie virgin) was actually, literally horrified. And, to his point, I sort of get it. Mrs. Hannigan is an absolute trollop, dancing around in her nighties and her pancake makeup, trying to get Mr. Bundles to take a roll in the back of his laundry truck. The sweet little orphans beat each other up and dance suggestively around their rooms, mocking their sole caretaker. And Rooster - he actually tries to KILL ANNIE!!

Ohmigosh, how can I let my sweet little goober watch that anymore?

And then tonight, in an effort to keep an overtired Zoe (two days in a row without a nap at school, God help us all!) from melting down after her bath, I randomly started singing another song I remember loving when I was little. Without even thinking, I belted out:

"There was an old lady who swallowed a fly...I don't know why she swallowed a fly...perhaps she'll die!"

And then I looked around guiltily, hoping against hope that Zoe wouldn't ask, "What does die mean?"

I just wasn't up for that conversation.

My mom would say that kids Zoe's age only understand what their little brains are capable of handling, and that she'll take a lot of good out of movies like Annie and songs like the old lady song. And I tend to agree...but then...

I remember...using her own (good) logic, my mom never censored (within reason) what we watched or read as kids. I started reading Stephen King's It in the seventh grade, and it took me all year to read, since I could only read a chapter or two before being SO SCARED that I had to put it away for a couple weeks...I got a lot more out of that book than I imagine my mom guessed...

So what if...my little innocent Zoe starts dancing suggestively or trying to wear pancake makeup and dance in little nighties? And what if that sweet turkey wants to know what it means to die? I'm still not ready for that conversation.

But then, as I started to go crazy about the implications of all this STUFF, I realized...Zoe is walking around belting out "Tomorrow" at the top of her voice, and her favorite part of Annie is when Punjab climbs down his turban and plucks the Annie from the top of the railroad bridge. And when I sang the old lady song, all Zoe cared about was the spider wriggling and jiggling, and that she had NO IDEA why that crazy old lady swallowed that fly in the first place.

I think she's going to be ok.

Still, though...I dropped the "Perhaps she'll die" line every time I sang. I'm not risking that conversation just yet...

Random thoughts Tuesday

Whew - my brain is kind of all over the place. I'm sick (sinus infection - ugh), and work's been CRAZY busy (see what I meant about the end of a release cycle?), so I'm just exhausted.

But it's been a few days since I last wrote, so I thought I'd just provide some updates on life. I'm stealing Marissa's idea of Random Thought nights, so here goes.

• Book update: I think the last time I wrote about my book, I was maybe halfway through writing the first draft. I had no title, little confidence that I could ever finish, and I thought I was running out of ideas. But have no fear! I finished my rough draft before Christmas and have been hard at work editing ever since. I found a title, a voice for my narrator, and I've been able to sort through a lot of the garbage to pick out some good stuff. I'm super-excited about it, and hope to hand it off to some close friends/family for an initial read by early next month.
• Zoe update: She's finally healthy(ish)! Yay! She still has a cough but she's lost that walking zombie look that she had for over a week, and I swear....now that she's better, she's been EXTRA cute!! Today she borrowed another doll from her Nana, and promptly named it "Blue's Clues." Yeah - it's a girl doll, and her outfit is pink. But whatever. It's cute, dammit!
• Me update: I decided it was high time (in fact, it's long overdue) for me to go visit my brother, Daniel, and his husband, Zeke, in London, where they've been living for over two years. Since tickets are extremely pricey, I am going All By Myself next month, for Presidents' Day weekend. Holy cow, I'm so excited and so terrified that any time I think about it, I kind of, sort of want to throw up!! Holy cow! Five days without Charles and Zoe? Will I survive? I'll have to do some on-the-road blogging when I'm there.
• Politics update: I really, really, really want to stay awake tonight for the State of the Union Address. I am SO hoping President Obama knocks it out of the park!!! I also hope people are just nice to each other. So we'll see how that goes.

OK, I think that's enough for now. Hopefully I'll get some antibiotics when I go to the doctor tomorrow and then I'll be able to get my head together to write something more meaningful later in the week. In the meantime, I hope you're having a happy day. xoxoxoxo

The curious existence of Bobby Booby...

A few months ago, Zoe borrowed a doll from her Nana (Charles's mother). On the ride home that day, I asked her, "What's his name?"

Her answer? "Bobby."

Um...ok. She knows no one named Robert, Bob or Bobby. She's never seen an episode of The Brady Bunch. Where'd she come up with that name? I wondered...

A week or two later, we bought her a new baby of her very own. On the way home, I asked her, "What's the new baby's name?"

Her answer? "She doesn't have a name."

Oh. "Zoe, when will you give her a name?"

"When October comes."

It was November 2nd. October was a long way away.

Zoe has stuck to her guns regarding the names of both baby dolls, and still asks about Bobby, who has long since gone back to Nana's house. The new baby still doesn't have a name.

Also, we've been watching Annie a lot over the past few days - it's her new favorite show. She gets very concerned when a bearded man throws a bomb into Mr. Warbucks' house, and wants to know who that man is. In the movie, they call him The Bolshevik. Zoe spent a bit of time yesterday trying to say this new word..."Vol-vick? Bod-a-nick? Vold-e-nuke?" She never quite got it, but she says a different word each time, giggling at herself and her own creativity.

So I'd say life with a very articulate toddler is entertaining, to say the least. Zoe has her own way of looking at the world, and her own way of talking about it, and it changes, daily.

I see this most when Zoe gets to playing her new favorite game, which she created herself. The name of this game? Well, it changes, of course. Some days, it's "Bobby Booby." Others, it's "Blobby Blooby." Where does this come from? I have no idea...but it's her favorite.

"Mommy," she says, typically while I'm making dinner or folding laundry. "Will you come play Bobby Booby with me?"

"Sure, I'll come play Bobby Booby."

"No, Mommy. It's Blobby Blooby."

"Oh."

To play this game, we sometimes dance, holding hands. We sometimes chase each other around. There are always rules, they always change, and I never seem to follow them.

"No, Mommy, you have to lean this way!" or "No, Mommy, you're not listening! Go to timeout!"

I can't tell you the number of times I've been sent to timeout for breaking the B(l)obby B(l)ooby rules...

One day, while Zoe was sick last week, she was sitting on the ground, exhausted and run-down. "Mommy, can we play Blobby Blooby sitting down?"

This time, the rules involved wiggling on one's booty while holding hands and making weird faces...

So, the name changes, the rules change, and I am frequently in trouble. Sort of sounds like a two-year-old's perception of the world, huh? Hmm...I'll have to ponder that possible conclusion...

What a difference a year makes...but not really...

It's 2011. Holy cow, it just took me three tries to actually type the correct year. I am amazed by the fact that, when I went to go renew my passport this week, I realized twelve years had passed since I first got it! I looked like such a BABY in that picture!

So, eleven years ago I was still in college in New Jersey. Now I'm married to my Southern boy and I have a kid. CRAZY.

That said, even just a year ago, life was SO different. Or was it? Just for kicks, I thought I'd compare year-to-year, 2010 to 2011.

2010, MLK week...oh, this was SUCH a bad week. Zoe was a little older than 18 months old, and not really talking much (her best words were "Beep boop beep boop" as a response to the question, "What does R2D2 say?"). We'd recently become completely disenchanted with her day care and had decided to switch her to her current school, the Cadillac of pre-schools in Charleston. This was the week the switch happened.

So, a little background, too. Charles and I work for a software company that releases our products cyclically. When we release, there is always drama with loooooooong hours, and one or the other of us typically has to work late a few times a week. The week of the school switch, this week last year, was a release week. Charles had just become a manager, and he had to work late almost every night.

And to top things off, I had the worst case of bronchitis I've ever had. I. Felt. Like. Garbage. It was awful. I could barely stand up, but I was forcing myself to go to work, to take care of Zoe, do do all the things I typically do. It did not go well.

So we had a sick Mom, a busy Dad, and a new school for Zoe, and that transition was NOT easy. At all. She cried for hours each day in her new class and didn't nap much. When I picked her up each day, she was exhausted and miserable, sort of like I was feeling. And I was on my own.

I made my mom come over a couple days that week, and thank goodness she did - she basically rescued Zoe and me from certain doom. (OK, that is a little dramatic...)

It was awful.

So now, 2011, MLK week. This year, it's Zoe who has bronchitis...again. Yes, I think it's a relapse of the same bout she had two weeks ago, and it's pretty awful. I've never heard her cough like this. But today we got some new antibiotics, and even though she's coughing as I type, she's already at least a little better. On the mend, I hope. Zoe and I will be staying home again tomorrow, on our own, and I'm looking forward to a day on the couch, under blankets, and with the TV on, so she can hopefully sleep it off.

It's a release week at work. Again. Charles will be working long hours, and again, I probably can't due to the work/life balance...which is fine with me. I like my job, but I love my family. And that said, I will probably call my mom tomorrow to see if she wants to come hang out after work until Charles gets home...frequently, an extra mom is a great thing.

And finally, we found out last week that even though we followed the rules for re-enrollment at the Cadillac of pre-schools, we didn't follow them well enough, and her enrollment is now in question for the next academic year. Apparently, a lot of the half-day three-year upped their enrollment from half-day to full-day, and since we waited till the last minute to turn in our paperwork, we wound up on the wait-list.

Um...WHAT??? Are you kidding me?

I'm optimistic enough to think that it'll all work out and we won't have to find a new school for Zoe (ohmigod, I don't want to leave this school!!!), but still. It's a stress I don't need this week.

So there you have it...one year later, and we have another case of bronchitis, perhaps my mom to the rescue, and another software release week. Oh, and enrollment issues for Zoe.

Weird...times change, but not really sometimes.

All that said, Zoe herself is WAY different this year. Some recent cuteness...

1. Her favorite song is "Hey Jude" and she sings it. All the time. I love it. In fact, today she sang it for the P.A. at the doctor's office. SO sweet.

2. Sometimes, at the end of her bath, she sits on a little toy boat and refuses to get out, even though all the water has been drained. Why, you might wonder? Because she's "stuck in traffic," as she will tell me over and over. She'll only get out if Charles comes upstairs to see her.

3. When we're talking about things to do, she'll suggest something, and then look at me and say, "Is that a great idea?" or "Is that a option?" Super-sweet.

4. She can look at a book and tell you all the letters (provided they are CAPITAL), and then say, "Mommy, what did I spell?"

What a difference a year makes...but not really...

It's 2011. Holy cow, it just took me three tries to actually type the correct year. I am amazed by the fact that, when I went to go renew my passport this week, I realized twelve years had passed since I first got it! I looked like such a BABY in that picture!

So, eleven years ago I was still in college in New Jersey. Now I'm married to my Southern boy and I have a kid. CRAZY.

That said, even just a year ago, life was SO different. Or was it? Just for kicks, I thought I'd compare year-to-year, 2010 to 2011.

2010, MLK week...oh, this was SUCH a bad week. Zoe was a little older than 18 months old, and not really talking much (her best words were "Beep boop beep boop" as a response to the question, "What does R2D2 say?"). We'd recently become completely disenchanted with her day care and had decided to switch her to her current school, the Cadillac of pre-schools in Charleston. This was the week the switch happened.

So, a little background, too. Charles and I work for a software company that releases our products cyclically. When we release, there is always drama with loooooooong hours, and one or the other of us typically has to work late a few times a week. The week of the school switch, this week last year, was a release week. Charles had just become a manager, and he had to work late almost every night.

And to top things off, I had the worst case of bronchitis I've ever had. I. Felt. Like. Garbage. It was awful. I could barely stand up, but I was forcing myself to go to work, to take care of Zoe, do do all the things I typically do. It did not go well.

So we had a sick Mom, a busy Dad, and a new school for Zoe, and that transition was NOT easy. At all. She cried for hours each day in her new class and didn't nap much. When I picked her up each day, she was exhausted and miserable, sort of like I was feeling. And I was on my own.

I made my mom come over a couple days that week, and thank goodness she did - she basically rescued Zoe and me from certain doom. (OK, that is a little dramatic...)

It was awful.

So now, 2011, MLK week. This year, it's Zoe who has bronchitis...again. Yes, I think it's a relapse of the same bout she had two weeks ago, and it's pretty awful. I've never heard her cough like this. But today we got some new antibiotics, and even though she's coughing as I type, she's already at least a little better. On the mend, I hope. Zoe and I will be staying home again tomorrow, on our own, and I'm looking forward to a day on the couch, under blankets, and with the TV on, so she can hopefully sleep it off.

It's a release week at work. Again. Charles will be working long hours, and again, I probably can't due to the work/life balance...which is fine with me. I like my job, but I love my family. And that said, I will probably call my mom tomorrow to see if she wants to come hang out after work until Charles gets home...frequently, an extra mom is a great thing.

And finally, we found out last week that even though we followed the rules for re-enrollment at the Cadillac of pre-schools, we didn't follow them well enough, and her enrollment is now in question for the next academic year. Apparently, a lot of the half-day three-year upped their enrollment from half-day to full-day, and since we waited till the last minute to turn in our paperwork, we wound up on the wait-list.

Um...WHAT??? Are you kidding me?

I'm optimistic enough to think that it'll all work out and we won't have to find a new school for Zoe (ohmigod, I don't want to leave this school!!!), but still. It's a stress I don't need this week.

So there you have it...one year later, and we have another case of bronchitis, perhaps my mom to the rescue, and another software release week. Oh, and enrollment issues for Zoe.

Weird...times change, but not really sometimes.

All that said, Zoe herself is WAY different this year. Some recent cuteness...

1. Her favorite song is "Hey Jude" and she sings it. All the time. I love it. In fact, today she sang it for the P.A. at the doctor's office. SO sweet.

2. Sometimes, at the end of her bath, she sits on a little toy boat and refuses to get out, even though all the water has been drained. Why, you might wonder? Because she's "stuck in traffic," as she will tell me over and over. She'll only get out if Charles comes upstairs to see her.

3. When we're talking about things to do, she'll suggest something, and then look at me and say, "Is that a great idea?" or "Is that a option?" Super-sweet.

4. She can look at a book and tell you all the letters (provided they are CAPITAL), and then say, "Mommy, what did I spell?"

Someone has a lot less to worry about today

Two people will split $335 million this week in one of the largest lottery payouts. Of course this prompted me to think about what I would do if I won $167.5 million. Although I have to admit this is not the first time I've played out this daydream. Often during long roadtrips, my hubby and I will play the what-would-we do-if-we-won-the-lottery-game and it usually ends with one of us getting frustrated that we haven't yet won the lottery because we would make GREAT lottery winners.

It's not the money that is so appealing to me, it's the freedom that might come with it. If we had no financial worries, which is typically the one thing that holds us down, what would we do?

The first thing I would do is the obvious, payoff our debt. Then I would payoff the debt of my family members and close friends. I would buy a bigger house, but not a huge house, just a nice house with a big yard for Max to run around in. I might buy a new car and maybe a small recreational boat (we do live on the coast.) I would update my wardrobe, buy a Kindle and fill it with all the books I want to read, go on a fabulous shopping spree to decorate our new house, and buy my husband a Playstation, just because he wants one.

I would set aside enough for Max and his future siblings to live comfortably off of for the rest of their lives. I would put away some for us to live off of. Then I would give the rest away. $167.5 million is too much for me to ever spend and I don't want the kind of lifestyle that requires that much to support.

And since I wouldn't have to worry about going back to work to make money, I would write till my little heart's content.

What would you do with $167.5 million?

And we have a winner!

I am one of those people that love sweepstakes, lottery tickets, and raffles, but in all my thirty years, I have never won anything. My husband and I often joke that we must be lucky in some department because we sure aren't lucky in the contest/sweepstakes department. Well, that is except for right now.

Do you remember that scene from A Christmas Story when the father wins a sweepstakes and his package is delivered in a box with "Fragile" stamped on the side? We are about to recreate that scene in our house this week.

I have won a fleece pork chop. That's right, a fleece pork chop. Nope, you can't eat it because it's a toy, or according to the website, it could also serve as a pillow.

I'm almost certain this pork chop, which I have already named Porky, will become Max's favorite stuffed toy. My guess is that he will carry it around with him everywhere he goes and I'll have to explain to bystanders that no, it's not a dog's toy (although it could be, I suppose), it's just my son's favorite piece of toy meat.

Perhaps I'll frame and hang it next to the front door to remind us that we should never give up hope that we will (and can) win something.

For your entertainment...

I ventured into my parents' attic today to look for an old Playbill (I am convinced I saw Lea Michelle in Les Mis years ago, and I wanted to find the proof). I didn't find what I was looking for, but I found some things that are even better, including senior prom pics in which I was pretending to be a rock star.

But my favorite find of the night, full text posted here for your reading pleasure (!!) was the first book I ever created. I wrote and illustrated it while in the second grade and part of Eisenhower Elementary School's Talented and Gifted program. While I think you'll agree it shows neither talent nor gift, it's pretty funny.

I believe the assignment was to create a new animal that was a composite of two or more other animals...I merged a Brontosaurus, my favorite dinosaur (yes, I had a favorite dinosaur), with a dog, my favorite animal. My illustrations of this creature are a passable dinosaur, but are colored brown, I guess to incorporate the dog?

Anyway, here's the complete, unedited text of my first ever (un)published book.

**************************

"Dinodog"

written and Illustrated by Leah Soltis

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO MY FAMILY

Once there was a Newnimal named Dinodog. A Newnimal is two or three animals mixed together. Dinodog is a boy and he is seven years old. He is also five feet tall.

One day Dinodog was walking in the field when a bad Newnimal leaped at him!

"I'm not scared of you," said Dinodog.

"Sure," said the bad Newnimal.

"Oh, why are you so mean?" asked Dinodog.

"Because my dad was mean," said the bad Newnimal.

"Well, it's never too late to change. Give it a try and be nice," said Dinodog.

"O.K. I'll be nice," said the bad Newnimal.

They both walked off as friends!

********************

So...here are my thoughts.

1. It's dialog heavy. The story on which I am currently working is totally dialog heavy. Some things don't change (but maybe should?).

2. I find it funny that I didn't give the bad Newnimal a name...I've always struggled with naming characters. I struggled with naming Zoe. More things don't change.

3. I love that my dedication is in ALL CAPS. I have no idea why I did that.

4. The bad Newnimal is black and sort of nebulous...in one drawing he seems to have a curly ear. Maybe an early idea for a shape-shifter creature? To be explored in future stories perhaps?

5. He's bad because his dad was bad? I am very rarely (if ever) angry with my father, so I wonder what the heck he had done to offend me that I made the bad guy blame his dad...hmm....to be explored in future therapy sessions perhaps...

Hope you enjoyed!