Randy Pausch

A family member forwarded me a lecture by Randy Pausch. It is a lecture about how to live with gratitude. Below is a link to a short version of his lecture that will only take twelve minutes of your time and I urge anyone who has found themselves here to watch it.

"Experience is what you get when you don't get the things you want."

Goodnight

Me: Goodnight Maggie, I love you. You'll always be my special girl.
Maggie: Goodnight Mummy. I love you too and you'll always be my mummy.

What a wonderful way to end at very crazy day and a tiring week. I love my kids. They are the best thing that has ever happened to me (aside from meeting my husband, my Eric).

Give Me Immunity Please

Eric, my hubby is sick. Ryan, my son is sick. Maggie, my daughter is sick. Beni the cat prince is sick. Henri the cat jester is sick. 'tis only the dog and I who are not sick in this house.

I have been wiping noses and dodging sneezes this past week. I have lost out on sleep while I responded and reacted to the calls, coughs, whimpers and sneezes. I am in total shock as to why I have not got sick myself. Granted, I've had the sniffles and the sneezes but that has been due to allergies and a free sample of Allegra and a nose spray from the doctor's office seems to have taken care of the best of it.

Could it be my super fab mummy always on the go diet that is helping me stay cold free? I doubt it. Perhaps its the average of five to six hours of sleep I'm getting every night? No, I doubt that too. Maybe the exercise I do? No again. The only exercise I find the time to do is lifting the wriggling twenty-four pound weight around (aka: Ryan) which, compared to the forty pound plus weight of my other wriggling sickie (aka: Maggie) isn't that much of a workout anymore.

I am going to take my good fortune of immunity and run with it. I'm picking up a fresh carton of orange juice in the morning and will make sure to actually sit down and finish my bowel of Trader Joe's Almond Clusters. I promise too, to make time for a decent lunch of whole grain bread and green greens. I will even snack in mid-afternoon with a crispy fresh and juicy apple and will go all out at dinner and cook me up some tilapia or sol fish.

In the meantime, please send me all your good karma -- I think I might be needing some of it right about now.

Heart Full of Love

My son. I love him. I utterly adore him. He's sweet and lovable and loving. His name is Ryan. When he would roll around inside me I would rest my hands on my stomach and it felt like I was reaching inside and giving him a big heart full of love. Now, when I wrap my arms around him we are bonded in an intimate moment for two. I love him endlessly.

My son is my second born and is loved no less and no more than my first yet, I feel a great loss for him. While my daughter received undivided attention for the first three years of her life and was exposed to playgroups, music and the arts, leisurely walks around the neighborhood and to the park, my son has been shunted from one errand to another. In fact, I believe his very first trip out from the house after arriving home from the hospital was a trip to the store to pick up a chest of draws for his bedroom, his second trip was Maggie's first day at pre-school. Things haven't changed much for him since then.

The closest exposure Ryan has had to playgroups is with the siblings of Maggie's classmates from her gymnastics class. As the older siblings work on their gymnastics skills I am usually found pacing the corridor with Ryan -- trying to appease him in his tired state, feeding him a cracker or a bite of an apple. His music exposure has been the children's CD collection in the car, my singing (which leaves a lot to be desired), and an occasional mad half hour in the afternoon of banging on pots and pans and battered old toy instruments. His leisurely walks are, more often than not, limited to the distance between the front door and car door and his trips to the park are a rare occurrence and always accompanied by Maggie who has her very own and very clear agenda that we often need compromise on.

I hope that I learn his exposure, though different from Maggie's, isn't any less than what she had. I hope that when Ryan is older he will understand that although things aren't always equal, they are often the same. I hope that he understands the gift of giving and the lesson of waiting for his turn without harboring resentment. I hope that despite it all, he knows he is loved no less and no more than his sister.

Lunch with the L.A. Times

Yesterday was a great day. Grandma came over and looked after the kids while I ran some errands, sneaking in a lunch at my local and all time favorite bakery in Long Beach. For company I had the L.A. times and it was sheer bliss. I could casually munch through my tuna and avocado sandwich on nine grain, drain my cranberry mix Snapple drink, devour their scrummy soft chocolate chip cookie and munch on crisps (potato chips) with out having to share any of it, clean up a spillage, distract my frustrated and very determined nineteen month old or answer the onslaught of curious and well meaning questions from my delightful four and half year old. I savored every minute of solitude with my L.A. times and it felt like the equivalent of a long weekend at the beach house (not that I've ever stayed at a beach house but I imagine its affects are similar).

I figured I had earned my lunch of solitude tenfold and think I enjoyed it that much more for my early morning run of errands. The feeling of accomplishment and checking things of my to-do list was a natural high in and of itself I just have to share with any willing readers. I dropped off some items at a local consignment store for children's clothes, toys and gear earning me a nifty thirty-five bucks and my recycling center gave me back two dollars and twenty cents for my weeks collectibles of water bottles, tin, glass and aluminum. Goodwill were grateful (as was my sanity) for taking in unwanted items from my house, the lovely mini-van (named "fast" by Maggie) got an "ultimate wash" at the local car wash and last but not least, I swung by a potential kindergarten of Maggie's and spoke to powers that be regarding her enrollment for the fall 2008.

The icing on the cake was coming home and having the two I left behind great me with excitement, hugs and kisses. They had obviously had a good time with their Grandma and she with them.

Thank you helping to make it happen Grandma!

Magazines for Me. Yeah!

I splurged today and bought myself two parenting magazines from the bookstore. I normally don't buy magazines, preferring books or the Internet and have long resented the amount of advertizing and the not so subtle idolizing of "perfection" which we know is impossible to meet. However, despite the cost, I have to say I actually like these two magazines -- Brain, Child (5.95 USD) quarterly issue and The Green Parent (11.49 USD) bi-monthly issue.

The Green Parent is printed on recycled paper and released in the U.K. I suspect the writing style appealed to my subconscious, but asides from that I found several original articles on parenting issues I enjoyed reading. One was a very poignant and memorable personal article about preparing for the early death of a loving husband and father (I promise you it wasn't morbid), another was about a family's experience of living simply and off the land in a tent and camper-van, a third about dispelling the myths of breast feeding. All in all a great magazine which got the synapses pulsating after a long day with the kids.

Brain, Child was an equally good buy for my emotional well being and mental work-out. The title of the magazine is very appealing too don't you think? Brain, then child? I love it. My favorite thing about this magazine is that it doesn't have any advertisements (yeah!) and many of the articles are written and sent in by its readers. And, I have to tell you, the writing is high caliber stuff and stimulating too. Here are a few article titles to wet your appetite, "Not One of Those Mothers: No nominations for sainthood, please.", "Online, Off Kilter: SAHM ISO High-Speed Connection." and last but not least, "The Debate: Is there such a thing as too many toys?"

Update: The Things Maggie Says

Here are a few Maggisms I heard this last week that I thought were blog worthy -:

Talking about how big she is and how much she's grown during bathtime, Maggie stood up and said, "Do you want to see how tall I am? I'm taller than the moon. I'm bigger than the moon!"


While climbing in the car tonight to run a quick errand to the market the Crickets were chirping all around us when Maggie asked, "Mummy, why do the crickets keep saying goodnight?"

When driving to gymanstics, Maggie asked, "Mommy do some kids get old but never grow up?" I was already to dismiss her question when I realized that she was probably trying to understand why some adults act like kids and others act like adults. How true I thought, some kids never do grow up -- how many times have you told or wished you could tell another adult to "just grow up already..."

Reflecting on her day after driving home from a visit with the doctor and Grandma/Grandpa Jansta's house she said, "I wanted today to be a happy day but it wasn't it was a sick day. I got sick today."

Kindergarten Readiness

Today, Maggie had her first assessment for kindergarten readiness. While I never doubted Maggie's readiness to attend kindergarten I was worried about her willingness to perform for a teacher she had never met. At the end of the assessment I recognized that it felt more like me taking the test rather than Maggie.


This is Maggie's story -:


The night before Maggie's kindergarten assessment I told her that we would be visiting a kindergarten school where a teacher would like to meet her and ask her a few questions. She accepted the news just fine and may have said something like, "You mean where five year olds go? Will I be five tomorrow?"


Over breakfast the following morning I remind Maggie of our scheduled day. Laundry, shower, gymnastics, lunch and then kindergarten. She happily accepts all the details and asks if she can watch a movie while I take my morning shower. I oblige her with a yes and breath a sigh of relief that Maggie seems to be taking the kindergarten meeting in her stride. I briefly wonder what questions might be on the assessment and worry a little if they'll ask her to write her name, as we are still working together on that skill but, but decide there's nothing to do about it and that it is not worth the worry. I know she'll be ready by the time fall 2008 rolls around.


On the way to her gymnastics class Maggie starts in with the questions about kindergarten, "Will other kids be there for me to play with? When will I be five? Is it the school with the tiger (school mascot of another neighborhood school)?" Then she said, "But I'll be shy. I won't want to answer their questions."

I feigned ignorance and made out that being shy and not answering the questions the teacher asked was okay, "Maggie, that's okay. You'll be fine. Just know that the teacher really wants to meet you and just wants ask you a few questions. You only need to answer the questions you want to. The teacher will like you Maggie."

"Why?" Maggie asks. "She'll like you because she's a teacher and all teachers like children and they know just how to talk to children, especially if they're feeling shy." We exchange dialogues for a little longer. She reinstated that she would not be wanting to say anything and I did my best to keep the tempo low and reassure her that I thought she would do just fine.


Well, arriving at the school Maggie was not shy. She was not quiet. In fact, she did not stop talking. Eager to show the teacher just how much she knew, she elaborated on every detail at every opportunity she saw. Her opening comment upon entering the classroom was, "This chair is bigger than the chairs at my pre-school and darker too. My pre-school has chairs which are light blue and you have chairs which are dark blue."


After being tested for her recognition of basic shapes she said, "I know all sorts of shapes. I know oval too." When she was asked to count to 10 she made it all the way up to 21 before being asked to stop by the teacher. When asked about the colour of several crayons she explained how the black crayon was black but had grey paper wrapped around it. When asked to write her name she began with the letter "M" and then announced that this time she did the "M" a little differently, each successive letter she sounded out phonetically and narrated how each letter should be drawn, "... g. ga-ga. I have two gees in my name. g. ga-ga. first you draw a circle and then the tail. down and then whoop..."

I was hearing my very own words play themselves back to me. I dared a glance up at her and she had a huge - I mean a HUGE grin on her face. This was the first time she had written and spelled out her name without any help. She missed one letter out in writing her name, but I didn't care. She was performing and was so proud of herself. She was gorgeous.

When the assessment came to an end she saw the teacher circle "no" on an assessment sheet. Maggie was very prompt in asking the teacher, "Why did you circle that one 'no' ?" to which the teacher replied, "Oh. You can read too! I can tell you've been to pre-school. You know so much. Very bright." At which point, I couldn't resist but say, "Well, erh. Most of what she knows comes from me. Her pre-school focuses on social skills, and we're working together on writing her name. She wants to get it just perfect."

Which is true by the way. Practically any new task Maggie takes on, she wants to do just perfectly.

My hard working husband

It's 12.08 am on Monday morning. My husband has to be up at the crack of dawn to drive from Long Beach to San Diego CA but he is up to prepare his time sheets and expenses of last week. Though he has a reputation for procrastinating on things (and lets be honest, don't we all procrastinate?) his late hour is not due to procrastinating. It is due to good honest hard work.

His time sheets for last week add up to 63.5 hours. That time does not include the twenty to thirty emails he has to respond to everyday. It does not include the time he spends on researching for clients or preparing work for meetings, conferences and presentations.

While I'm proud of my husband for the work he does, his willingness to go out on a limb for others, his conscientious work ethic, his patients and ability to troubleshoot problems like the guru his name prevails -- I miss him.

I miss my husband and his presence in the morning as I slumber out of my deprived sleepy state and I miss my husband at lunchtime as I share pbj (peanut butter and jelly) sandwich with my daughter and long for steak fries instead. I miss my husband when I bath my son before bedtime.

Which is why I call my husband morning, noon and night. To say hello and let him know he's in my thoughts and that his presence is felt and wanted everyday.

Hugh?

With the exception of a few months here and there I have been living in Southern California for ten years. A whole decade -- my goodness. There's rarely a fortnight that goes by when I am not complimented by my English accent yet my British girlfriends kindly and mockingly inform me that my English accent has been lost to the wind. On my visit to England last summer I recognized for myself just how much of my accent and dialect I have lost, and how much 0f an American dialect has become part of my every day speech.

I taunt myself by the ease I use the filler "hugh" when talking to my daughter. As I see it, the filler word "hugh" can be used to indicate agreement, raise a question, or to show that you are listening to the speaker and occasionally used as a cue that you wish to make a comment or require a response from your listener. It's not really a word, more of an indiscriminate grunt -- indistinguishable to the English listener and inherently understood by the American.

Ironically, as a drama student during high school I was required to adopt an American accent for a short three or four minute script about two young American girls discussing what adventure they would partake in next. The last line, the line that everyone was to hear, the line that indicated to everyone that "this is the end of the scene. please now put your hands together and applaud us" was -- yes you guessed it, the last line. Literally the very last line was "hugh". It was my line and I failed at it miserable. I simply had no idea how or where to put the inflection and all that came out on performance night was a meek and weak little 'hugh.." as I walked off stage right.

These days I find myself, especially as I write in this blog, conflicted between writing with or without my English accent. Who is the audience I write for I ask myself. Well, essentially, that is me (and my adult children) which is why I have chosen to use the standard English I acquired during the first two decades of my life -- hence the tittle edit from "mommy blog" to "mummy blog".

So, if you stop by to read and catch up with the goings on of my cluttered mind expect to find English spellings and references with an immersion of American slang, idioms and expressions.

A Nod to Good Friends

A friend is a person with whom I may be sincere. Before him, I may think aloud.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Early this evening I dropped a friend of at the airport who made the effort to visit with me during a business trip from London. Her visit was short and sweet and though we hadn't seen each other in six months we reconnected from where we left off -- it was a great visit and I thoroughly enjoyed her company. As we said goodbye to each other I felt truly honored and proud to know her. Why? Because she is a good friend in the truest, most honorable, sincerest and purest forms. In all the years I have known her, she has never faltered or betrayed me.

I've known this friend since our first days of high school and we are both still connected to other friends from our high school years. These friends too, are just as important to me with reciprocal amounts of sincerity and honesty. I have no doubt in my mind that they have a huge part in shaping the person I am today. Never have they faltered from their post of trusted and reliable friend. Sure, there will be periods of time that we do not speak with each other as our lives take control of us and our time becomes a precious commodity, but doubt has never cast a shadow over our friendship. For that I am very grateful and feel so very blessed.

My fortune of good friendships does not end here though. As I've moved through life, from England to the United States, from single life to married life, from student to motherhood I have found new unbridled friendships. They are as expressive as they are real. Without them, my world would be a lonely and unforgiving place. The time, thought and consideration they have given me has been immeasurable.

To all of you, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I'm so proud and so honored to call you a friend and I thank you for accepting me and showing me kindness.

I love you.

Mother's Day

It is Mother's Day in England today, also known as "Mothering Sunday". I dutiful sent of a card to my mother (amazing feat for me, as I've failed at the task for many a year -- sorry mum) and gave her a call early in the morning 12am California time, 8am GMT.

I celebrated the day through my children. Every hold, every gesture, every touch embraced with the gratitude that I have two healthy, happy children to call my own. After all, it is for them and their reliance and trust in me that I can call myself a mother. The way I see it, Mother's Day is a day to celebrate the birth of my children as much as it is to be honored for the role I play in raising them.

I got to wonder though. What is the history behind mothers day and why is it celebrated on a different time of year to the U.S.A. ? My family and friends, I have the answer for you. It turns out to be quite interesting if care to read on.

Mother's Day, also commonly referred to as "Mothering Sunday", is believed to have originated from the 16th century in England and is celebrated on the fourth day of Lent (three weeks before Easter). Traditionally it was used as a day when church goers would visit their "Mother Church" to meet with extended family, honor Jesus Christ and the Mother Mary. To some extent Christians still attend their Mother Church but for the most part Mother's Day has evolved into celebrating and giving thanks to Mothers.

Mother's Day in the U.S.A. on the other hand, considered an import from England, was originally initiated after the American Civil War with the intent to invite women to call for peace but was not formally recognized May 10, 1908 in West Virginia. Six years later, in 1914, President Woodrow Wilson declared the first Mother's Day as a day for Americans to show the flag in honor of mothers who had lost sons in combat.

For more detailed information please refer to my favorite quick reference, Wikipedia, that the above was obtained from.