Oh Mama!

Living it up in Sun City, AZ

Oh Mama! — Mon, 01 Dec 2008 17:21:00 GMT

Just returned from Thanksgiving in Sun City, Arizona, home of my in-laws.

I love seeing them; however, I leave Kids Kastle for a place where Seniors Reign Supreme. For those not familiar with this Del Webb retirement community, you have to be at least 55 to live in Sun City, and the local hot spot would be Furr's cafeteria.

Among my observations: This is a place where people drive their golf carts to church on Sunday and consider anytime after 4:30 p.m. to be dining late. The economic downturn doesn't stop the Bingo crowd. If my father-in-law wins big, he just might buy something off Jewelry Television, which my in-laws have been watching for a while, but have yet to actually buy anything. But they make a game out of guessing how much something might cost. They say they've gotten good at it.

It's always funny for me to go running in Sun City. Even on a cold day, it's 50+ degrees as the sun is rising. For me, this means I'm usually out in my running shorts and a shirt. Most of the other walkers I encounter are wearing parkas, gloves and have their dogs dressed in little sweaters. On Friday, I had to run 16 miles, and I knew I'd warm up quick, so I was out in my shorts and jog bra and some guy actually had the nerve to ask me where my shirt was.

We took Dylan to see the new Disney movie Bolt, and my father-in-law moaned as we drove into the parking lot at 4:00 p.m. "Look how BUSY this place is! I hope we can find a place to park!" he gestures at a half empty parking lot. "Hope the movie isn't sold out!"

We arrive and find ample seating, but when he goes at 11:00 a.m. during the week, it's NOTHING like this.

While it's easy for me to see the humor in all of this, I better watch out. I can only imagine what college-aged kids (when did they become "kids?" when did I become old?) and Dylan's generation will make of my moaning about not knowing how to program my phone, figure out my IPod, and work the most basic computer programs.

Oh wait... I've already been making those complaints. So, I show my own signs of aging in a less than graceful manner. My only hope is that Dylan will be 6 as I turn 40, and part of his job, though he doesn't know it yet, will be to help keep me young. Perhaps I can keep my "quasi-with it" style going, at least a little longer. At least, I'd like to think I'm still a little bit "with it!"

Just don't let me eat at Furr's, OK?

It's all in the JEANS!!!!

Oh Mama! — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 14:15:00 GMT

For the last 5 years, by choice, I have drawn a paycheck of hugs and kisses. But taking the stay-at-home mom path was more coincidental than strategically planned.

My husband Tim took a job in the Dallas area, and I accompanied him, already 5 months pregnant. When we moved, the University of Missouri, my former employer, allowed me to work remotely through my August due date. When school started, I obviously was in Texas, so I left my position. I worked until the week I delivered -- at which point I became officially a "homemaker" -- though my husband might vote for maker of household disarray.

I remember being in tears at a post-partum medical visit, realizing I had to label myself as a "homemaker" on some form. My C-section scarred body limped to the information desk and explained my current situation. I was gently assured this was the box to check. I would have taken "stay-at-home mom" or "unemployed but born to breastfeed" as a better option.

Homemaker?!? That was some '50s throwback -- black and white TV, women who wore aprons and slept in twin beds alongside (certainly not with) their husband.

Wasn't there a more dignified way to classify a stay-at-home hormonally raging new mom?

So now I'm writing, and I am drawing some form of spending money. Granted, it's a meager paycheck, but it's something... so I've been saving this money like a squirrel hiding nuts for winter. I would not spend this on Cascade, toilet paper or groceries unless absolutely necessary.

I spent part of it on my vacation from my family when I went to Austin with two girlfriends.

The rest went to... (OK I am SO embarrassed to write this) -- JEANS! I was down to one measly pair purchased three years ago that was too big in the butt, too short in length and fraying on the ends. This is my regular "work" uniform these days, so I bought two pair in a store where I actually was served bottled water while shopping.

Does this mean I can now check the box as "fashionable freelance writer who happens to drive a crumb and milk laden SUV?"

I'll take that over "homemaker" any day...

Iron Chef Dylan ... cooking with Dad

Oh Mama! — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 20:16:00 GMT

For me the "joy" of cooking is a very real thing I've tried to share with 5-year old Dylan. He knows a teaspoon from a Tablespoon, gleefully tosses spices in a bowl to concoct rubs, whisks up salad dressing, and even peels a few sweet potatoes under my supervision (all fingers are still intact!)

He actually waited in line with me for 2 hours to meet grilling uberstar Bobby Flay at a book signing. Dylan informed him in his best big boy voice that, "You are my favorite Iron Chef!" (see http://www.foodnetwork.com/iron-chef-america/index.html if this is as foreign as reading a menu in a French restaurant to you)

Side note: You would think he would be more adventurous in his eating; however, this is a child who will order a hot dog and state, "Actually just bring me the bun!"

But for all my souped up cooking skills, the time Dylan truly cherishes in the kitchen are Saturday mornings. That is when he and DADDY cook together while I'm out on a run. Every Saturday they concoct their house specialty, Mickey Mouse pancakes (aka Aunt Jemima original complete hotcakes, meaning just add water).

The importance of this to Dylan resonated like an arrow to a bull's eye when Dylan provided his own recipe for a classroom cookbook last Xmas. Somehow Sixteen Spice Chicken with Cilantro-Pumpkin Seed Sauce and Smoked Red Pepper Sauce (which he has helped me make from scratch) did not make the cut.

No-- here was his contribution:

Mickey Mouse Pancakes (Dad cooks them on Saturdays)

By: Dylan Wilford

Cook pancake mix over the fire on the stove

Put 2 ears to make Mickey Mouse ears.

Take it out of the pan and put it on the plate.

Put on butter and syrup before you eat!

As a stay-at-home mom, this made me feel great because it is something he identifies as truly HIS thing to do with dad. On Saturday, Dylan was reeling as my husband Tim was out of town -- a rarity on weekends. Of course the question came up: Who would make the pancakes?

I guess my cooking prowess doesn't impress him enough to think I could freehand Mickey in a pan like Dad (and honestly I could not!). I can cook about anything, but I am a baking blunderer. My biggest miscues resemble roadkill in the pan from spatula hacking -- not good for pancakes.

My child was stuck with Eggo waffles, but the idea that Dylan's house specialty is truly SPECIAL to him made me feel pretty good. Even if my forte was flipping the pancakes, he still would not have wanted me to make them...

Calgon take me away...

Oh Mama! — Thu, 20 Nov 2008 04:31:00 GMT

I must tell you, I was muttering "Calgon take me away!" as the day for my vacation from my family arrived.

It was about two hours before my departure time to Austin, TX with two of my dearest mom friends, and I was NOT relaxed! No, I was shopping like a mad woman as 5-year old Dylan is "snack leader" this week at school, meaning I was responsible for snacks and drinks for 13 kids. I didn't want to come home refreshed only to go out Sunday night shopping for apple juice, pretzels and granola, so I bought out Target before I left. It looked like a convenience store blew up in my pantry, and given my current messy state of affairs, I couldn't fit all the junk in the pantry. So I conducted a reorg effort most corporations would be envious of.

After that monumental task, Dylan drops orange juice everywhere in the kitchen -- fully knowing my husband doesn't want to walk across a floor that is as sticky as bubble gum, I chose to mop. Did I mention I needed to also do 3 loads of laundry before I got out the door? Did I mention I was still packing 5 minutes before my departure?

I finally get in the car and know I have a 4-hour drive ahead. But without kids in tow my friends and I had 5 years of unfinished conversations in which to make a dent. And what did we talk about? Style? Great hopes and dreams? Current events? Amazing books? Nope, we largely talked about, well, our kids. Not entirely, but on our weekend away, we did spend a lot of time gabbing about our little guys and girls. The best part of this is that it was uninterrupted conversation as blissful as a bubble bath.

And when we didn't discuss kids, we talked a lot about food. What restaurants we would pick. We ate well, though an unexpected treat was Hey Cupcake! -- a cupcake stand in a parking lot complete with a live guitar player (Austin is known for its live music, hence Austin City Limits...) You can check it out at http://heycupcake.com/index.htm

We also spent time in the spa and emerged with lovely fingers and toes. We ate breakfast where a pianist played, people waited on us, poured us coffee and no one was told they had to be out the door in NO MORE THAN 5 minutes or risk being late for school. In fact, the waiter brought our bill which sat unnoticed for a good half hour.

We did sample the nightlife in Austin, which is a must given its reputation for live music. We enjoyed it; however, the only club scene I've been part of lately is the "Kids Klub" (after school program) so I kept waiting for my stagecoach (or my friend's hybrid SUV) to turn into a pumpkin at midnight. Remarkably it didn't and we stayed out until 1:00 a.m., my latest night in oh, about a decade!

Such simple pleasures...

We came home saying we could have used another day, but when I walked in the door I was greeted with an enthusiastic call of "BIG HUG!" from Dylan, who showered me with kisses and hugs. My husband Tim and Dylan and I then gathered for a family "shake" (big hug with some groovy shaking) and at that point it was good to be home.

A vacation from my family...

Oh Mama! — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 03:45:00 GMT

The idea of a family vacation is such an oxymoron. Not that I don't love Disneyland, the locale of our last vacation, but I'd call it more of a family trip, or even an adventure, but not a family vacation.

This weekend I am about to get a vacation from my family, and call me selfish, but I can't wait. Cue the giddy Go-Go's music, "Vacation." (Sorry, I grew up in the 80s, I can't help it...)

I am leaving town tomorrow evening headed to Austin with two of my dearest mom friends. One of them turned 40 in September, and we've finally aligned our schedules so we could get away. (Gone are the days that you can leave for a weekend on a whim as this has taken months to execute!)

We all have 5-year olds and our kids have been friends for 4 years. What's neat about our friendship is these are women I would have been friends with in my pre-mom days. The fact we have kids has bonded us all the more. You have to have your "A team" of women you can readily admit your faults and celebrate successes. Both of these women fit the bill.

So we are leaving our children with their dads for the weekend and holing up in a resort and spa for two days of bliss. I am considering drowning in the whirlpool tub in the spa and may never return...

What's funny is in my pre-child days, I would have researched every last restaurant and known exactly what spa treatment I would have. This trip has no agenda -- zero. I think this is a testament to the fact my personal needs are few. I could sit in a room for two days, nosh on room service and read uninterrupted for 48 hours and consider it nirvana.

It's dawning on me that I will have to dig deep in my non-existent wardrobe to find items that don't scream "These are my running clothes!" or "This was purchased years ago!"

Perhaps I will go shopping. Perhaps I will eat a meal in a sit-down restaurant and take the time to read the menu and have no worries if Dylan is fully entertained. Perhaps I will stay out late (for me), have a few drinks and listen to live music that is not popular among the preschool set.

As exciting as it all is, Dylan proclaimed with tears in his eyes tonight, "I'll miss you Mommy!" and the maternal tug kicked in -- however, it didn't pull me under enough to boycott this trip.

Gotta run!

Oh Mama! — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 12:57:00 GMT

When Saturday morning rolls around, I shed my "mom skin" like a snake for a few hours.

It begins around 5:15 a.m., when I hop in my husband's car -- the one without the booster seat -- and listen to music of my choice for a few minutes. I pull into the parking lot of a local middle school and meet my running buddies and take off for a long run.

As I've entered week 12 of my 16-week marathon training program, those long runs have become increasingly long. Last Saturday I logged 21 miles. I'll do 15 for a long run this weekend and 21 or 22 the following.

I've grown to really love distance running. Living in a sometimes undisciplined household with 5-year old Dylan, I love the ritual and defined plan it takes just to get me to the starting line. Call me crazy, but I also get jazzed knowing my body can take me such distances. I'm now entering the peak weeks for mileage, which for me means about 55 miles a week.

For some logging those distances might sound like some form of torture, but for me, it's my sacred time. While the rest of the world sleeps, I occasionally get the treat of seeing a shooting star and usually a nice sunrise.

I've been running now for almost 3 years. I didn't run until I had Dylan. But I know I'm a better mom because I run -- I'm not only healthier, but there's some kind of emotional release that comes with running. I also think I'm a better runner because I'm a mom -- I appreciate my time on the run -- that "me time" -- in a way I never understood before I had a child.

With temps in the 40s last Saturday it was a perfect day to run.

Actually, there aren't many Saturdays that aren't perfect for me to run. I often joke with those who ask me about marathon running that I either chase Dylan around all the time, or I put together a plan that happens to take me 26.2 miles in the end. It's not entirely a joke. Life as a stay-at-home mom can get monotonous as you are married to your schedule of dropping off your kids as much as your husband. Ask me something as simple as, "What's new?" and sometimes I'm hard pressed to tell you. At least now I can say I'll be running my fourth marathon in a few weeks.

The best part of this, is that my husband Tim and Dylan anticipate Saturday as much as me. They get their own time, without mom around. Their ritual is cooking up homemade Mickey Mouse pancakes. While they are dining on their morning feast, I'm at a local Starbucks getting my breakfast and caffeine, hanging out with my running friends who actually know me by my first name, not that of my child.

In the end, everyone feels better. On that note, I gotta run...

Disneyland 101

Oh Mama! — Sun, 09 Nov 2008 15:36:00 GMT

Vacation with a 5-year old is always an adventure, particularly when the destination is Disneyland.

Unless you live in Florida or California, I think there's pressure on parents because just getting to the front gates of Disney is a production. It's unfortunate that this family vacation requires some to consider a small loan to cover admission. But Disney clearly understands the power of its brand combined with the parental pull of sharing this "magic" with your kids, or just reliving it yourself.

The advice I am about to give sounds so obvious, but it is worth repeating so the vacation of your dreams doesn't turn into a nightmare -- The direct level of your enjoyment and that of your child will depend NOT on how much money you've spent on your park hopper pass. Repeat this mantra daily, hourly if need be.

If you choose to go to Disney with a younger child, it can be a bit of a gamble. Luckily, we had other family trips planned to Florida and California visiting friends and family where Disney was a one-day sideshow, not the sole purpose of the trip. We were confident that Dylan was ready to go back for three days. But you need to be prepared that your child's favorite part of the whole vacation could be the eating Fruit Loops because they don't get those at home, or being in a hotel swimming pool. In other words, don't even attempt some cost-benefit analysis of this kind of vacation.

In Dylan's case, all he really cared about was going to Toon Town and seeing Mickey and the gang. I kid you not that in three days, Dylan saw Mickey at least a dozen times and never tired of it. He also went to Playhouse Disney -- a puppet production with Mickey and the Gang, Tigger and Pooh, Handy Manny and Little Einsteins -- three times. The half-hour show was the same each time with music and dancing, and he danced as crazily the third time as he did the first.

While this might sound monotonous, we kept in mind that, at this age, this constituted a successful, memorable vacation and best of all, didn't mean waiting in monstrous lines.

We did do a few rides, truth be told, this satisfied my husband Tim and me as much as Dylan. Dylan's favorite was Dumbo the Flying Elephant, and I felt badly I cajoled him into Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, which he said was too dark and scary, but I loved it. High on Tim's list (and ours) was Turtle Talk with Crush (surfer turtle from Finding Nemo) where you can have a real-time conversation with the animated turtle. We went twice and it was totally different each time. It so totally rocked... DUDE!

I'd recommend the Unofficial Guide to Disneyland to anyone considering this trip. It will give you an idea which rides are good for your child and which ones will likely raise their heart rates into the stratosphere.

Parades for us were well worth watching. We saw the Pixar parade twice -- which had great colors and dancing and fun characters from The Incredibles, Ratatouille, A Bug's Life and other flicks.

Our trip ended fittingly with the Parade of Dreams, which was truly spectacular and probably allowed me to reconnect with that "inner child" I'd like to think I still possess at age 39. It's a great mix of past and present with eight megafloats. It shows off every princess as well as well as traditional characters Alice in Wonderland, Peter Pan and Pinocchio in addition to dancers and ornate costumes from the Lion King. Dylan was jumping up and down waving at everyone and, I have to admit, I waved right along with him and mirrored his 5-year old giddiness.

When do we go back?

Packing/shoving it all in....

Oh Mama! — Fri, 07 Nov 2008 15:40:00 GMT

My blog has been on hiatus this week as we've been spending time with Mickey and the gang in California.

Yep, we took 5-year old Dylan to Disneyland and then capped it off with a trip to the beach.

I will share vacation details in a later blog, but now that I've been home about 36 hours, I have to tell you the worst part of "getting away from it all" is the prep work required to leave.

We left on Saturday, the day after Halloween, a big mistake. Friday was all about trick or treating. By the time we returned home and weaned Dylan off his sugar high, I was SO ready to drop into my own never-never land. But I had to pack, a task I anticipated about as much as a root canal.

I HATE packing because Dylan has inherited my ability to experience drastic temperature changes on a whim, which means you basically have to have four seasons worth of clothing in your suitcase. In addition, I have to have the "friends" (stuffed animals) that Dylan would want nearby, his security blankets, snacks, and of course the "surprises" for the plane (coloring books, card games, workbooks) he has come to expect, plus DVD player and favorite DVDs (which change from trip to trip) .

None of this is particularly difficult, it's just extremely time consuming for me to process it all. As I sit on the carpet at 11:00 p.m. debating a Littlest Leaguers DVD or Blue's Clues -- I opt for baseball -- I consider this is a far cry from when attention to this level of detail was reserved for what pairs of fun underwear made the cut.

At midnight, I'm packed.

Then I rise at 4:45 a.m. to take a shower and inform my husband I have a "few errands" to run. I am not sure that it is a testament to my organization that by 6:00 a.m. I'm off to the ATM and library (Dylan's books would have been woefully overdue), or is it a sad fact that I almost left these things undone because my RAM is full. Maybe I need an upgrade.

We leave for the airport at 7:00 a.m. and I exhale as I board the plane, exhausted, ready to let the fun and frolic begin...

Presidential Politics: Through the eyes of a 5-year old

Oh Mama! — Thu, 30 Oct 2008 02:12:00 GMT

Consider the presidential election through the eyes of my hyper-competitive 5-year old...

He kind of sees this as a contest on the grand scale of the World Series...perhaps with good reason.

"OK," he asks me, "it's McCain versus -- he loves the word "versus" as a verb -- Obama, who are you rooting for?"

As if I am wearing red or blue -- team colors or such. I tell him my choice, which suffices him.

Then I make the mistake of trying to explain the concept of vice-presidential candidates -- that they are "friends" of the primary candidates. I figure this has gone over his head faster than Air Force One and he floors me with his level of political astuteness -- never underestimate the power of a 5-year old who pays attention to the news I catch on an occasional basis.

"Is Hillary Clinton still Barack's friend?"

I try to explain that yes, Hillary is still (kind of) Barack's friend, but somehow she didn't make the cut to be his "best friend." The one he'd share his peanut butter and jelly sandwich with. But somehow this is a concept bigger than sharing swings on the playground. How to explain?

"Well, yes, she is still his friend," I said. "She's out there telling people to root for Barack. She could even be part of his administration -- maybe -- if he wins."

Dylan: "What is an administration?"

Imagine Homer Simpson: DOOH! What am I doing expecting a 5-year old to know this five-syllable word?

Dylan: "If Barack wins, what will Sarah Palin think?'

This ranks in "Unsure how to answer."

Suddenly I see where this is leading. Dylan's follow-up questions show even though he is super-competitive, he has inherited my sympathetic side -- the part of me who wants to invent a bridge that somehow connects people, allows them to get along.

"If Barack wins, will John McCain like him, or if John McCain wins, what will Barack think about him?'

Oh dear. I opt to skip explanation about '04 Supreme Court decisions and our litigious society such as it is... and say, well, I hope whoever wins, when it's all over, everyone can somehow tend to shake hands and say it's been a good, hard-fought race between two qualified candidates. We wish the other person well and as a country we hope for the best.

Lofty expectations for adults, let alone a 5-year old, who in some ways, with his wide-eyed innocence, might better accept it than cynical voters.

Halloween costumes for moms... it's scary!

Oh Mama! — Tue, 28 Oct 2008 02:27:00 GMT

OK, for the record, I do NOT want to be any of the following for Halloween:

1. Sexy Wonder Woman

2. Sexy Cheerleader wearing Playboy bunny shirt

3. Sexy Nurse

4. French maid

Not that the creators of Halloween costumes are paying any attention to this. I was looking for something appropriate to wear to Dylan's (my five-year old's) Halloween party. I have to say that the marketing gurus are totally missing what the 39 oh-so-close but not quite 40-year-olds want to buy.

Certainly there are plenty of 20-somethings that are off to college parties who want to flaunt their inner she-devil, which is fine with me. But don't lump me there, too.

Many of us moms are stuck -- we're at the mercy of designers who have not figured out how best to address the demographic that falls between college coeds and the social security set. Unfortunately this is a problem not just experienced on Oct. 31 -- it is constant.

For all of our spending power, the folks designing our clothes figure we are: 1. interested in squeezing/wrapping ourselves Saran-wrap like into clothing too short and/or too tight 2. really desire wearing a muumuu or polyester tent as a fashion statement.

I guess it's a good thing that at this stage in my life, I live in my shorts, T-shirts or running clothes. A fashion plate I am not, but I do understand what is age appropriate. So if you're out there fashion designers, I'm happy to consult for a small fee, or free (decent looking) clothes!

Oh, in case you were wondering... I dug out a rasta costume left over from my pre-Dylan days. I figured it was better than the option of Corrupt Cop or Mile High Captain...