The Road Trip

as published at The Orange County Register on August 24, 2013:

“Alex, wake up! There are zebras everywhere.”

“Tell them we ran out of Skittles.”

“I did, but they already left the construction site.”

“I don’t like country music either.”

“When are we going to be on ‘Duck Dynasty’ again?”

We go on like this for hours, my daughter and I, submersed in our nonsense talk. On another journey in another location, a desert wanderer may rely on a mirage of an oasis to keep him going. But on hour 17 of driving up the California coast, my daughter keeps me awake at the wheel by chattering about whatever stream of ridiculousness we can conjure.

From the beginning, this summer’s road trip met heavy opposition. When I first presented the idea of driving to my brother’s wedding reception in Washington state, my husband was as encouraging as Judge Judy.

“I can’t take another week off work,” he protested.

“Then I’ll drive the kids myself.”

“22 hours?”

“We’ll break it over 5 days – I’ll take them to see Hearst Castle, Fisherman’s Wharf, the Redwood Forest, it’ll be great!”

“These days, it’d be cheaper to fly,” he argued.

“Yeah right, well… let me check… okay, you’re right. It is cheaper to fly. But then we’d miss out on Hearst Castle, Fisherman’s Wharf, and the Redwood Forest!”

“Without an extra driver, what’ll you do when you get tired?”

“I never get tired.”

I lied. The A/C’s blasting, my eyes are burning, and I’ve pounded two bags of trail mix just to stay in motion. But if we’d copped out and turned to Alaska Airlines, I’d miss out on all this quality time waking up my 13-year-old navigator to banter about jazzercise, stained glass, and Bisquick.

I’d expected my three youngers in the rear to keep our car alive with the kind of squabbling my brothers and I used to indulge in on our road trips, but the invention of iEverything has silenced our back row. While I appreciate their iComas, I have to holler every 15 minutes for them to yank off their earphones and look at the waterfall/cliff/lion seal view they’re sacrificing for their pixelated world. I doubt they’ll ever remember we even went on this trip.

I think back to the annual road trips I used to take with my mom at the wheel (while my dad worked). Cross-country from Memphis to California she’d plow with all eight of us kids strapped into our conversion van. My mom would plot those trips for weeks, mapping out all the exciting landmarks we’d encounter. We’d break the drive over a week, and along the way we’d see the Alamo, the Grand Canyon, the desert! But all I remember is waking up in the passenger seat to find my mom at the wheel with two Red Vines protruding from her ears, and a row of M&M’s balancing between her upper lip and nose as she made monkey faces in the rearview mirror.

“What are you doing?” I’d ask.

“Staying awake.”

The Bridal Shower

as published at The Orange County Register on August 10, 2013:

I’m scanning the aisles of Target with four pages of printed wish list, matching bar code to object. According to her registry, my future sister-in-law’s kitchen will contain a sea of silver and white. I love silver and white, and as I survey the lovely silver and white chafing dishes, napkin holders, and salt and pepper shakers my new sister-in-law has registered for, I wonder if my kitchen will ever have a shot at being so shiny and pretty.

She also wants a salad spinner. Where were those when I got married? I don’t recall ever registering for one, but from the blurb on the box, it looks like a salad spinner is just what I need-- considering all that lettuce throttling I’ve been doing since 1998.

I also never got a popcorn popper, quesadilla maker, or fabric steamer, but it appears my new sister-in-law will. I’m not sure where I’d stow these things, but I just know they’d make my life wonderful.

I picture my soon-to-be sister-in-law’s world. I can see her in her silver and white Williams and Sonoma-esque kitchen where she’ll spend a quiet afternoon popping buttery popcorn and lifting the lid of her quesadilla maker to release cheesy golden brown discs, all whilst a crisp head of romaine spins itself dry. She’ll probably be wearing a freshly steamed apron and stilettos and listening to Michael Buble, and while I know my hungry hulk of a brother would never request a dinner of popcorn, quesadillas, and dry-spun lettuce, he’ll tell my sister-in-law it’s all wonderful because everything’s wonderful when you’re a newlywed.

Right there in aisle 37b of Target, I break down: I want to get married!

The problem is, I am. For 15 years last Thursday. And despite all our attempts to plan something special, in the rush and run around that has become our day-to-day, all I got for my 15^th anniversary was a leaky dishwasher, a jammed shower door, and a broken kitchen faucet that squirts you in the chest when you attempt to pull the sprayer from its dock. Which brings us to the age-old question:

Why don’t you get a bridal shower after you’ve figured out what you actually need to be a bride?

The romantic part of me really wants to buy my brother’s soon-to-be a popcorn popper, or a salad spinner, or a fabric steamer to make all those extra moments of their lives special.

But the seasoned wife in me ends up purchasing them a stainless steel spatula and a sturdy mixing bowl, because over the years, I have learned a few things. A good spatula can flip a quesadilla and dislodge a jammed shower door, and a mixing bowl will be there for you during any kind of leak. And when marriage brings you those moments that aren’t so shiny and pretty, it’s the tools you actually use rather than those you don’t that make all the difference. 

Cracking Up: Watch me, Mom!

as published at www.ocregister.com on November 28, 2012:

“Watch me, Mom!” Blake hollers as he tightrope walks along the six-foot-high wall dividing our house from the neighbors’.

Blake dreams of being a Parkour athlete, and thus commutes through his six-year-old life like a monkey, leaping from couch to chair, trampoline to slide. It’s common for my jaunt to the washer and dryer to be interrupted by a head bonk and a  “Watch me, Mom!” as an upside-down Blake dangles from the pull-up bar mounted in our laundry room.

PHOTO COURTESY MORGUEFILE.COM

Blake bellows “Watch me, Mom!” as he somersaults down the soccer field, scales a basketball goal, and sprints into gymnastics for the first time, beaming like he just won the lottery, because I’ve finally given in and signed him up for his chosen sport.

I live in fear that someday the little acrobat will leap from our second-story balcony to impress a lovely lady. But for now, most of his tricks are accompanied by a somewhat reassuring “Watch me, Mom!” directed my way.

Like all kindergarten girls, his younger sister is in princess training, and spends her afternoons mixing hues of pink with shades of purple on coloring pages. “Watch me, Mommy!” Gracie grins as she holds up her latest fairytale masterpiece.

“Watch me, Mommy!” she beckons as she twists and twirls across the kitchen floor in a pastel leotard and gauzy skirt.

“Watch me, Mommy!” she pleads... READ THE REST:

Cracking Up: Watch me, Mom! - OC Moms - The Orange County Register

Cracking Up: Gratitude, kindergarten style

as published at www.ocregister.com on November 21, 2012:

Few experiences in life are more rewarding than a kindergarten performance. Whatever hassles you endured in the camera charging and parking poaching arenas are worth it to get there. Because once your little munchkin marches onto the circle time carpet to wail Stevie Wonder-style, while picking his nose and doing the potty dance, you can’t help but absorb the joyful living that takes place in the land of the uninhibited.

My daughter Gracie’s recent Thanksgiving show did not disappoint.

PHOTO COURTESY MORGUEFILE.COM

I had entered this particular event a bit shaky. Late, and flustered -- as I couldn’t find a camera charger or a parking spot -- I knew I’d have to rely on my memory to mark this moment.

As my fourth and final child waved at me from her spot, I realized this would be my last time in this room to watch a feather-headpieced tribute to Tom the Turkey. Each of my four kids had begun their formal education on gratitude here in this primary colored oasis. And how could they not be grateful for a room filled with books and blocks and lots of recess?

I watch my daughter’s teacher on the floor. Mrs. Stamen is the ideal mold from which kindergarten teachers are made: she feels like sunshine and sounds like a giggle. She adores my daughter and calls her “Marshmallow” for me, when I’m not there. There is no one else with whom I’d rather share my daughter’s days.

A line-up of squeaky rockstars take their turns on the mic, mimicking the teacher’s guiding melody. With furrowed brows and practiced enunciation, they count out ice cream scoops with sing-songy motions, and belt out the searing lyrics of the ballad “Happiness.” We watch their little eyes twinkle as they boogie preacher-style to “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine!” They’re off beat and often out of tune. But the tears of every mother in the room would concur no chorus has ever sounded better.

The kids then line up for the highlight of the show: to pronounce what they’re grateful for. This is the moment when these kids’ true colors are allowed to go scribble scrabble...READ THE REST:

Cracking Up: Gratitude, kindergarten style - OC Moms - The Orange County Register

Cracking Up: The morning after election night - The Orange County Register

as published at www.ocregister.com on November 14th, 2012:

It really bothered me that over two billion dollars was spent on the 2012 Presidential campaign -- until I heard that over two billion dollars is spent annually on Halloween candy.

If we can invest so heartily in our children’s cavities, I suppose it’s only fair that we likewise endow the election of the leader of the free world.

PHOTO COURTESY MORGUEFILE.COM

I tried to maintain a similarly ambivalent mindset throughout the past year of heated political debate, reconciling that the candidates could assume my share of fervor onstage, at the mercy of their moderators.

It’s not that I don’t care about politics or have strong positions on the issues facing our country. I’m a mother, a tax payer, and a multi-generation patriotic American; my political proclivities boil deep. But as I end most nights at our house in the heat of a bedtime battle, pleading "Why can’t we all just get along?" while my kids argue to uphold their messy rooms and stinky bodies, I woke up the morning after the election deeply relieved it was all over — even if several ballot selections hadn’t gone my way.

Then I logged on to Facebook, where I learned just how diverse my "friends" actually are. Half the people I know were dancing in the streets; the other half moving to Costa Rica. ALL felt vehemently about their plans. I quickly decided I wasn’t in the mood for Facebook, and found an actual book to read, feeling soothed by my ability to disconnect.

Until my mom called... READ THE REST:

Cracking Up: The morning after election night - OC Moms - The Orange County Register

Lessons on marriage learned on a trade show floor - Cracking Up - The Orange County Register

as published at www.ocregister.com on November 8th, 2012:

"You have to talk nice to me if you want me to sell your software," I tell my husband as we check our bags at the LAX Skycap.

"What do you mean? I always talk nice to you," Michael says.

PHOTO COURTESY MORGUEFILE.COM

"Not when it comes to techie stuff. When I tell you the remote’s not working, you look at me like I just asked you what country we live in or something and ask, 'What’d you do?'"

He assures me he’ll treat me like the boss, though I’d settle for executive assistant. Which for a week, I am. It’s just one of the many roles I occasionally show up to fill as the wife of an entrepreneur.

We’re on our way to a national healthcare convention in Orlando, Florida, where we’ll be selling Michael’s home care software at a tradeshow. I tell some of my friends this beforehand, and they ask if I’ll be wearing a tight black dress and throwing out candy to garner the attention of passers-by. “That’s not why he’s bringing me!” I retort. Or is it?

I’m always up for an adventure, especially of the travel variety. I’ve even gotten excited about road trips to Reno. But there are so many things seemingly wrong with my inclusion on this trip, I’m still second guessing whether I should yell out “I have a knife!” as we pass through security so they’ll send me back home.  READ THE REST:

Lessons on marriage learned on a trade show floor | marriage, trade, cracking - Cracking Up - The Orange County Register

Disney's 'Wreck-It Ralph' gets a high score - The Orange County Register

Family film review as published at The OC Register on November 2nd, 2012:

Disney did not have to work too hard to ensure its latest feature "Wreck-It Ralph" will attract the wee players of the Wii generation, as the pitch for an animated film set in an arcade is a no-brainer.

But the creators of what should prevail as the best animated feature of the year have exceeded expectations in producing an imaginative, laugh out loud romp for all ages with a sledgehammer of a (Pixar-esque) story. I’d even go as far as to say that "Wreck-It Ralph" is worthy to play in the same sandbox with Woody and Buzz.

PHOTO COURTESY WALT DISNEY STUDIOS

MORE PHOTOS »

Ralph’s vulnerable voiceover (kudos to the ever-awesome John C. Reilly) will pull you into his corner in the first three sentences of the film as he presents his plight. As the plugged-in villain of 8-bit game "Niceland," Ralph’s been engineered to wreck everything in his path so his game’s hero Fix-it Felix ("30 Rock’s" hilarious rube Jack McBrayer) can fix it all. But when the arcade powers down at night and its various game stars congregate in the power surge hub, we see that the gruffly designed Ralph (who sleeps alone in a pile of bricks) inwardly grapples with his desire to break out of his typecast box in order to win friends and respect.

On a quest to earn a medal that will presumably prove his worth, Ralph befriends Vanellope von Schweetz (a scratchy-voiced, acerbic Sarah Silverman). Dubbed "The Glitch," Vanellope is another pre-programmed underdog who lives in the underbelly of the game Sugar Rush and seeks a medal of her own. But when darker forces emerge and threaten to power down the arcade permanently, they must step outside of their own storylines to save Game Central Station. They recruit the expert combat skills of Hero’s Duty vigilante Sergeant Calhoun (Jayne Lynch), who in one of the best lines from the film, was programmed "with the most tragic backstory ever." And of course Fix-it Felix comes along, eager to wield his golden hammer and woo Sergeant Calhoun with his golden heart.

READ THE REST:Disney's 'Wreck-It Ralph' gets a high score - OC Moms - The Orange County Register

Best 2012 costumes for moms - Cracking Up - The Orange County Register

as published at www.ocregister.com on October 31st, 2012:

Sugar, nightmares, strangers, and cavities: all the things a parent fears most. Yet tonight, otherwise sound-minded guardians across the country will doll up our rug rats in costly personas and send them out to beg so they can (hopefully) return home trembling with a prescription for tooth rot and love handles.

Let’s hear it for Halloween: the best worst holiday of all!

1. Paparazzi — Have a middle schooler who’s begging to go out alone this year? No problemo! Strap three cameras around your neck and go hide in a bush with a gaggle of other parents. Not only will your tweens feel like celebrities when you blind them with your flashes, but there’s no better way to thwart their pumpkin smashing plans than to remind them you’re always right there, documenting their big moments for posterity.But who says moms are too old for alter egos? Why not have a little fun yourself with one of these great kids’ll-turn-testy, parent-approved costumes:

2. Pumpkin Super PAC -- Abandon your Facebook conversion attempts for one night in lieu of going front door politico. When you extract that red, white and blue bumper sticker from your candy cauldron and slap it on an unsuspecting toddling trick-or-treater, you can feel great that you just saved America.

3. The taste tester -- Throw on a lab coat and shower cap, and when they bring back the loot for the sorting party, sit in. One for them, three for you … And don’t you feel one bit bad— you have every right to swipe all the Twix and Kit Kats. If they give you lip, pop in that birth video and remind them who’s their Sugar Mama...READ THE REST:

Last-minute funny costume ideas for moms - Cracking Up - The Orange County Register