For today's public service announcement, I'd like for you to envision that while home for Thanksgiving, you head to Trader Joe's to stock up on various non-perishable, non-essential, but nonetheless wonderful, items. You find yourself on the household aisle as you scan for the luxurious shea butter soap imported from France under the moniker Trader Jacques, to which your beloved aunt introduced you. Upon finding no trace of it (and confirming that they are, indeed, out of stock) you look at the other soaps and are intrigued by a fair trade pure Castile hemp peppermint soap made with organic oils. (Actually, you're only intrigued by the peppermint part.) Take a moment to really consider the potential problems besides the therapeutic benefits. I submit to you that there are SOME body parts that interpret minty/tingling as just plain BURNING. The upside is, you are keenly aware of when all the soap has (mercifully) all washed away.

You're welcome.

One more picture from Thanksgiving -
the kids love making cookies with Grandma
We decided that we needed to celebrate the bejeebers out of Christmas so Saturdays are FAMILY FUN DAYs. It's important to capitalize it since you can't hear me yelling it in my stadium voice. So our Saturday dawned and we started our celebrating by taking Joel's car to get the oil changed. FUN DAY! And now you can't hear me yelling in my sarcastic stadium voice. Nevertheless, it was a better visit than the day previous when I had to interrupt my wildly-paced morning errands when I noticed that the engine light was on and the car was stuck in second gear. NOT a fun day. After a while at the Goodyear place, they applied a quick-fix that I am hoping is the real-fix as opposed to the scenario they painted that involves software and a transmission problem blah blah blah they gave me the keys and it works fine for now, so that's all I needed to know.

We headed to Home Depot for the first Saturday of the month craft. Allison has been telling me about this for a while and how Emaline does this EVERY month. I've never made it a priority. And now I have shifted my priorities. As we entered HD we were heralded to the craft area by the enthusiastic banging of hammers. Donovan and Ainsleigh took one look at the organized chaos, put on their game faces, and said, "We want to DO this." And they did.

Joel sat with Ainsleigh and proceeded to make her read the directions and count all her pieces to make sure it was all there. LAME! Being my father's daughter, I ripped into the packaging and got out the first pieces as quickly as possible. *I* barely read the directions (that's what the pictures are for!) and quickly slapped to pieces together and commanded Donovan, "Hammer! HARDER! butnotonmyfinger!" About 6 nails in, as Donovan was hammering away, he said, "Mom! I wuv making toys! I don't fink I want to be a fireman when I gwoe up. I'm going to be an ELF!" I tried to tell Donovan it wasn't a race. That just because he (with me at the helm) finished way ahead of Ainsleigh (with, ahem, Joel), doesn't mean we are (exaggerated) ANY better. And then one of the HD helpers happened to walk by and said, "Sure it does. That's what boys do." I had to smirk. In your face, Joel.

I told Donovan we could take his wagon (they give you a pin with the craft on it to affix to your apron! some of those kids had like 20 pins - holy cow!) home and wrap it up and give it to Pablo (his Backyardigan stuffed animal) for Christmas. His eyes got big and in a hushed voice he pronounced, "Dat is such a good idea mom. Fank you for your good ideas." I forgot to say that throughout the whole craft, he would stop and, almost in wonder, thank me for bringing him there. Thank me for having him make a toy. Thank me for thinking he would be good at this.

After that, we headed to SANTA! There's a nursery near here that has Santa and reindeer and donuts and hot dogs and hay rides and IT'S! ALL! FREE! You bring your own camera, but who cares - SANTA! We waited about 15 minutes in line (I've waited over an hour at the mall before) before they kids clambered up onto his lap/sleigh. He looked at my three kids, leaned in, and conspiratorially said, "Wanna know a secret?" With big eyes, the kids nodded (not so much Gemma). "When I was younger," he whispered, while beginning to peel off his hat, "I had red hair just like you." A few faint streaks of strawberry were visible through his white hair. Donovan's mouth went into his "ohhhhh" face as his eyebrows shot up and Ainsleigh brought her hand up to her mouth to hide her giggles. "But don't tell anyone I told you," he continued. "We wouldn't want them to feel left out." Well played, Santa.

And after THAT, well. Let's just say that I tell people we took the girls to sit on Santa's lap and we took Donovan to sit on a Ferrari's lap. Donovan has been obsessed with FEE-ARE-EEs for a while and between the oil change and HD, we saw one out driving. That's when we remembered there is a Ferrari dealership nearby. Let's go!

Before we even got there, we threatened our children with certain death if they so much as touched one of the cars. They were ready. As we stepped into the showroom, Donovan adopted a reverence I can only dream of for church. We looked at a car or two before a very nice salesman came over and shook Donovan's hand. Joel had previously said he doubted Dono would get to sit in a car, saying they would be mean (because they CAN). But Mr. Vaughn was exceptional. I suspect that, had he not shaved his head, we would have seen that he was (or had been) a redhead as well. Regardless, he took Donovan (and Joel) around and showed them car after car. He opened the doors of a Lamborghini and showed them the engines of several cars. Mr. Vaughn asked Donovan if he wanted to sit in a Ferrari. "Oh yeah!" Joel said, "Uh...can I sit in it too?" Boys are adorable. Donovan sat in the cockpit (driver's seat sounds so...inadequate) of the newest Ferrari (I don't know, I wasn't really paying attention - Joel will be ashamed) and totally blew Donovan's mind by telling him it was (one of?) the fastest street cars in the world. When we got to the Bentleys, Donovan adopted the George H.W. Bush 'A thousand points of light' hand motions to emphasize that "This. THIS is the car I want. THIS is a weeeeeeeelly good car."

The only disappointment came when we left the dealership. Donovan, confused, said, "But I wanted to buy a Fee-are-ee. Daaaaaaad - we didn't buy one!" Joel and I have decided two things: 1) Get Donovan a Ferrari t-shirt for Christmas. 2) Do everything we can to encourage this infatuation, so when it comes time for homework we can say, "You want that Ferrari? You need to work harder, faster and smarter." I should totally write a parenting book.

Anyway, that was our FUN FAMILY DAY and we did it before lunch. After lunch and quiet time, we dumped them all at our friends' house as part of our swap we have going on. It's a little chaotic when they're all at our house, but totally worth it for the good times the kids have, the exhaustion that sets in, and the few hours of peace and quiet we get when it's our turn to go out. And that's what I call FUN.

Joel asked that question that has led us to where we are today. Today he chuckled and shook his head and asked why I ever said yes. I chuckled and shook my head and asked why he ever asked. We're both glad we did. And then Donovan tackled Ainsleigh and Gemma screeched in protest and I wondered if, eleven years ago, this was quite what we had envisioned. Actually, I don't think we're that far off.

On our last day in California, with hours before our airplane was to depart and stomachs still stretched from the previous day's feast, we headed to the obligatory In-N-Out lunch. At first I toyed with the idea of feeding Gemma and putting her down for a nap, to both give her more time to sleep and me an easier time at the establishment. Joel immediately vetoed that idea. "It's In-N-Out, Sarah. We take her with us." I shrugged. Fine. Oh Gemma, I'm sorry I ever wondered otherwise. She ate almost an entire order of fries. It was only after she had been chowing for a while that I offered her some of my chocolate shake. She leaned forward a little skeptically and put her lips to the straw. I watched as the lovely liquid moved up and into her mouth. I saw Gemma's eyes widen and her cheeks indent harder to match the stronger sucking. I laughed as she pulled back, a dribble of chocolate deliciousness dribbling down her lower lip and, eyes alight, squealed, "Mmmmm!" while clapping and signing "more." She loved it. And I loved watching her love it.


More please
It made me all the more excited for my sister Allison who is just weeks away from more mobility, less sleep and a tiny baby to cuddle and sniff and love. That is if Emaline (click on that link if you like to laugh. or if you have name suggestions for her) will permit her. I was thinking about how, after the births of each of my children, there's a wonderful moment. A moment where you are no longer the center of attention. Where you've just pushed this human being out of your body and everyone is focused on what that little person is doing. And you lie there, no more pain, no more stress, no thinking, really. Just peace. And wonder. There's a whole lifetime of emotions under the warming lamps just beyond your reach, but in that moment, there's just peace.


The kids love playing with (on?) Uncle Jeff!
In a similar vein (anatomy joke! for a nurse!), my sister Becca has started her Labor & Delivery (rotation?unit?section?) part of her second-to-last semester of nursing school. And, as I have long suspected, she loved it. It almost seems cliche to say that birth is such a profound experience. But it is. It isn't something you can adequately describe to someone (or, rather, have them understand) who hasn't done it. But once you have, you suddenly view the whole world differently. There's a new level of awe and respect for the mothers around you. The news is always about the negative things going on, but I am humbled to consider the amount of love in the world. Because a parent's love? Is frighteningly intense. And it's something that trickles down as you lay there, full of peace and wonder, and you yourself are reborn. And Allison gets to do it again. And Becca gets to help people do this.


Dono and Jess waiting for food
I am also thrilled that my brother Jeff is getting married. In his own rebirth, he has found someone who loves him because (and in spite?) of his many gifts. With her love of tv and family games, keen fashion sense, and sense of humor, she will fit in well with our family. I wonder if she's a little freaked out to go from having no siblings to having a lot - we're not exactly the quiet type (you may have surmised). The important thing is that she makes my brother smile and he seems relaxed in a way I haven't seen for a while. Also, he's not allergic to her cat (does this cat possess magical powers? I guess it was meant to be). Although a date hasn't been set, I wish them good times through the planning stages, great times into married life, peaceful times as they establish their family, and always an abundance of french fries and milkshakes.


And she'll marry him even WITH that creepy face!

With highs expected to be 24 today (there should be a rule that the high should always be more than my age), I've got a turkey roasting and cranberry sauce simmering in my kitchen. We returned from Thanksgiving in California to the bitter realization that we had no Thanksgiving leftovers. Woe. So I set about remedying that situation today after visiting the dentist and rearranging Donovan's room.

My stay in the dentist's chair was one of the better ones I've had. Not only because there's nothing wrong with any of my teeth (your teeth look GREAT!), but he also said I have "textbook teeth" and he said it in a way that implied he wasn't talking about the "ailments/problems" part of the textbook. I happened to mention some sensitivity on one tooth that might be attributed to mass quantities of Aussie licorice. He took that opportunity to tell me that black licorice (I'm an equal opportunity partaker) actually kills cavity-causing bacteria. Whaaaaa? And so does dark chocolate. Whaaaaaa! And some cheeses, do you like cheese? At this point I narrowed my eyes and scanned the room. "Is this a trick question?" I asked if massages also improved dental health. Unfortunately, he could not confirm that at this time. Someone needs to get on that research.

And then I rearranged Donovan's room since I did Ainsleigh's yesterday and apparently I need to do this sort of thing more often because they haven't stopped thanking me or praising my mothering skills ever since. I'll remember this, come birthday time. It helped soften my own self-loathing from realizing I hadn't checked the lights on the 40-foot garland that I wrapped my banister with, only to discover, upon plugging it in, a section that has gone out. And it's in the very middle. Of COURSE.

But really, with sub-freezing temperatures outside, I suppose now is the best time to hunt for the rogue light. At least until my turkey is done. Hard to believe that a week ago we were doing this:

I will take sand from there and move it up here.


I will take sand from here and throw it back there.


Trying to build something before the waves snatch it away


Intent upon his work


Maybe we should work together.


Quickly, quickly
(note the cool reflection onto Dono's face)


Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!
(The look on Ainsleigh's face is her standard "yikes" face - premiering when she was tiny and we'd throw her up in the air.)


Run away!


Donovan's sweet moves keep him (sort of) dry and his hair standing on end.


Let's go again!

"Oh we were definitely talking about poop," Laura said in voice mixed with disgust and amusement.

My brother had just said goodbye to his girlfriend and I kind of apologized for the way the conversation had gone. My parents, who had not been in the room, were curious to know what we had talked about. Cue the above statement. Well hey, you haven't really had a conversation in my parents' home until it has touched on bowel movements. Also, I thought it was kind of adorable how my 17 year old brother really wanted me to meet her. I might be tempted to say she seems out of his league, but then I remember how crazy awesome HE is, and I think they are a fine pair.

While we were in California, Joel took Ainsleigh to the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art to see a special exhibit on Richard Avedon, one of Joel's favorite photographers. Ainsleigh, of course, loved it. Joel said at one point they were viewing this painting:

And he asked Ainsleigh what she thought it was. After careful consideration and contemplating the uneven dark surface with the faintest glimmer of red trailing down it, she replied, "I think it's a volcano. And that red part is a tiny bit of lava running down the side." Joel realized there were people behind them only when he heard one say, "Huh. That's a great observation." And her companion agreed.

Here, Joel is attempting to get Ainsleigh to replicate Marilyn's expression:



asleep on the train ride home
Of course, no trip to California would be complete without a trip to the beach, Joel's favorite place. And the day did not disappoint. With clear skies and crashing waves, Joel was in heaven. The kids were pretty happy, too, mounding sand as high as they could before running to avoid (and not always succeeding, Donovan's case) getting pummeled by waves.






(look for about a billion more beach photos in the days to come)

One evening Ainsleigh and I met up with some dear friends for dinner and it was wonderful to reconnect with them. Amazing, that we have been gone for over three years. Comforting, that we can slip back into the comfortable conversation from the good ol' days. We look forward to seeing them again, but are grateful, in the meantime, for email and blogs and phones. Oh, and you should really try the fried macaroni and cheese at The Cheesecake Factory. Don't be embarrassed at the decadence of it all - it's outstanding.

What else - oh, my mom (with Donovan's "help" - though he mostly just giggled because of the name) made some ridiculous cookies, aptly (and gorgeously) named "Big Butt Cookies." I don't remember the exact recipe (ahem, MOM), but something about a chocolate cake mix and a brownie mix and a couple eggs and some oil and then a bag of Reese's peanut butter chips. Bake them until the dough is just warm and then funnel it into your mouth. Or maybe until they are set. They were delicious.

Have you played the game 'Facts in Five'? Because I always tend to forget about it until I'm home and then we play and I think, "Why don't I own this?!" It's a great way to test how quickly your mind blanks, say on something as easy as naming a fiction writer whose last name starts with A right after your dad says, "Hypothetically speaking, if A were the letter, Jane Austen would be acceptable and Arthur Conan Doyle would not." (for the record, I put Hans Christian Anderson).

Also, Becca brought some kind of magical hair serum that exfoliates all the build-up on your hair. I'm not sure if the placebo effect is in play here, but I think I've had some really good hair days since then. I can't remember what it's called (ahem, BECCA), but I heartily endorse the product. Placebo has nothing to do with noticing that I can use far less shampoo than before. And that's probably interesting to only me.

So, in closing: museum, beach, friends, cookies, games, hair care. And poop. Yep, that about sums it up.

one more:

In the flurry of packing and running to Trader Joe's to stock up on our beloved Joe's O's and creamed honey (and about 47 forms of chocolate and candy - peppermint oreos!) and trying to upload a few race pictures and throwing them on the blog so the proof was there, I just speed-typed a bunch of words and I'm not even sure if it made sense. I think I might have started with a topic, but I think I might have ended up packing it or something. So I've had a couple days to think a little more clearly and now would like to come back to a few things.

I'm going to beat the proverbial dead horse and talk about the race again. As a person, it's incredibly rewarding to work hard for something, see the progress, and rejoice in the accomplishment. As a parent, that feeling pales in comparison to watching your child work hard and then succeed. It was equal to the role reversal I experienced as I got to cheer my dad across the finish line.

Six weeks ago I called my dad and invited him to run the 10k with Laura, Becca and me. He said he'd think it over. The tone of his voice betrayed his interest and I just waited. Soon I received probably one of the most endearing emails from my dad, outlining some concerns (helpfully numbered) ranging from "I haven't jogged more than one mile nonstop in several years" to "Be honest - do you really think I can do it" to "I'm 57. But Dr. Oz says my real age is 44." And so forth. It was with great pleasure that I replied, honestly, that I've discovered that running is really mental (well, a bit physical, but a LOT mental) and that with his current activity/aerobic rate (he cycles with my powerhouse mom a couple times a week - keeping up with her is a freakish good workout) it was totally doable. And so it began.

From there on out, he, my sisters and I have traded emails updating our progress, asking questions, cursing our body aches and even discussing our shopping excursions. SHOPPING. Well, in all fairness, the shopping had to do with running gear. But STILL. (also, if you are running in regular cotton socks, go get those socks they have for running. NOW. you're welcome) I looked forward to those emails, seeing what he had done, watching as week-by-week he added a half a mile at a time, hearing how he had felt. That first run was horrible, he said, or at least started that way. By the time he was finished, he was high on the endorphins. His progress motivated me to run faster, work harder, and then report back.

It was great fun to behold not only how great he looks, but to see him emerge Monday morning for our easy 3-miler in his new ensemble. He looked so tough. And here I had joked that my sisters and I were going to run in formation around him in all black like we were his security detail.

And get THIS. Besides the running and the shopping, he made breakfast. Steel cut oats. I've been wanting to try them but never had. I'm a total convert. Not only that, but he found the recipe (well, some internet-now-real friends suggested it - not like he was just browsing the food network like SOME people *cough* ). And he makes it. And it's DELICIOUS. I think the only other time I've seen him use a pot was for making oyster stew and that made all of us retreat to the farthest corners of the house. No joke.

I also realized that this training and emailing and planning has been a mighty good distraction for me over the past month as things have gotten a bit more hectic and tentative and stressful. Cheering them on was almost cathartic as I realized that things can be really hard but if we just power through, it's worth it. And also, I've got a cheering section that will pull me through even my toughest days.

So it only added to my own personal endorphin high to finish the race and then shimmy back out a little to watch and cheer my dad. And my sisters. I was so proud. Like not only was it an accomplishment for me to cross that line, but I felt it again and again with each of them. I look forward to more finish lines with these people.

I don't think we give enough recognition to the important things in our life. Tangible recognition. I'm thankful that someone I knew peripherally sought me out, struck up a partnership, and has become a close and dear friend, all the while motivating and inspiring me to try harder. The morning before we left for our Thanksgiving trip, she gave me a "good luck" gift for my upcoming race. It was a trophy. Of a runner. With my name, the year and "Runner" inscribed on the front. What a wonderfully thoughtful and awesome gift! She said, "Because this year, you've BECOME a runner."

And so we flew here to California where we have had a fabulous time relaxing and laughing and eating and running and laughing some more. Thanksgiving morning dawned early and I found myself unable to sleep past 5:30 thanks to a combination of a wakeful Gemma and nervous excitement. By 7:15 we were on our way and for some reason Becca decided to drink a gallon of water on the drive down. You're not going to an ultrasound! Geez. So when we met some traffic congestion, she had to find a facility so desperately she was now sweating. And maybe crying. As we got out of the car, I felt my legs go crazy, bucking bronco-style, in that pre-race adrenaline rush. As we neared the start line, we had the odd experience of watching the gun go off and the beginning people take off. We had timing chips on our shoes, so it didn't affect us and we were able to use the port-a-potties and hop the fence and begin our race. (note: it's a little tough to relax while copping a squat while hearing thousands of racers squeal and chat while knowing you're about to accomplish your goal for the year. I might have peed on myself a little.)

And it was awesome. There are very few things in life as exhilirating as running in a giant crowd, surrounded by some of your favorite people, laughing at the fun of it all. Joel peeled off at almost the 3-mile mark while my dad, my brother Dave, my sisters Laura and Becca, and I sallied forth. Actually, at about this time my brother took off. He was determined to beat us since we had been joking about him dying at some point since he hasn't trained. Well, he went out for a run once. It was 2 miles. But, he does play soccer regularly. And, perhaps most importantly, he's 17.

Around mile 4.5 I was not feeling great. About that point my dad joined me and we were able to chat and I announced to everyone that THIS IS MY DAD! HE STARTED RUNNING 6 WEEKS AGO! CHECK HIM OUT! Surprisingly, he kind of dropped back a little. Huh. As we hit the final straightaway, with "The Final Countdown" now singing me home, I felt that rush of what little adrenaline still remained in my system. I am pleased to report that I finished my 10k in 55:16, averaging about 8:55 min/mile. Most importantly, I had a blast, cheering with my siblings, waving to the spectators, giving high-5s to the kids on the side, and enjoying a fabulous San Jose mid-60s morning. I could have done without the smell of turkey roasting at 9 am.

The always-fabulous Aunt Nancy brought Ainsleigh and Donovan down for their races and they thought it was pretty awesome. Gold medals! Shirts! Water bottles! Hand santizer! Good times for everyone.

And then we got to return home, eat a most delicious Thanksgiving dinner, and bask in family and pie and the hot tub and togetherness. There doesn't seem to be a trophy good enough to recognize that. So I'll stop typing and just show the pictures:

more fabulous

proof that I did it
proud to be his daughter

Laura, prancing in 
Becca, finishing strong

Ainsleigh-style

Dono-determination 
the whole gang

On behalf of my son, I apologize for the horrible stench that permeated the back 5 rows of Saturday evening's flight. We took him to the bathroom repeatedly and ran him around the terminal before boarding, in an effort to decrease the potential incidence of flatulence. Sadly, it did not seem to help. We were as pained as you were. Perhaps more so, from embarrassment. The only excuse we can offer up is, in his own words, "I juss cannot cwose my bottim. I twy and den I move a wittle or think somefing and the toots just sneak out." We hope the dum-dums we passed out prior to takeoff helped deflect some of the assault to your olfactory nerves.

Shamefaced,
Sarah

ps - it's delightful here in California. I may talk about it later. Or I may go eat another cookie. In the hot tub. Thinking about our upcoming race.

I love getting the Williams-Sonoma catalog in the mail. I read every single page, often salivating over the details (interchangeable blades! triple-ply! enamel cast iron! everything all-clad!) and dreaming about what it would be like to walk into that store and buy everything I wanted (the whole store). It's probably the way men feel about the Victoria's Secret catalog: a little embarrassed that they actually DO want to look at it, knowing that they really aren't in the market, but also curious and maybe a little aroused (you don't know how long I just sat here trying to figure out a less naughty word to use). It's a fantasy world and I want to live in it. I'm talking about Williams-Sonoma!

So, if you've been keeping up, this hasn't been a particularly carefree past couple of weeks. The arrival of said catalog lifted my spirits. My eyes skimmed the cover and were drawn to the lower right-hand corner like a torpedo locking on to an enemy submarine. I sat upright and blinked to make sure the midnight hour wasn't causing my eyes to play tricks. The enemy?



And for some reason, that totally made my day. Granted, it wasn't going to take much. I fell back against the pillows and cackled, "Clases? CLASES?! Oh Williams-Sonoma, thank you THANK YOU for that. NOW I can go to sleep." What kind of person finds excessive joy in copywriting errors for well-known and respected publications?

Also, I've been looking through old videos and came upon this one of Donovan when he was 2 and his body mass index was about a thousand. I've watched it countless times. The kicker is that he still has that same laugh. One of total, utter, selfless abandon. He is totally IN the moment and, because of that, takes me wholly there, as well. It's just what I needed.