wildflowermama

I have the most wonderful children who do the most wonderful things, often on a daily basis.  My kids milestones and accomplishments give me such joy. I sure hope I remember some of them. Somehow, years have slipped by without starting, let alone finishing, a baby book. My son will be a teenager in a few days (gasp), my daughter is well into her 4th year, and I never wrote down a first walk, first tooth, first birthday…. nothing. I don’t really know why…well, that’s not true. I do know why, it’s just a really lame reason. I guess I had a vision of *the* baby book – the ones with the perfect pen, the perfect handwriting, eloquent words – and I was always just a little too tired, a little less than perfect to want to ink anything. I did however, document my children’s lives in the one way I am most confident, in pictures. Thank goodness for Flickr. I’ve posted over 5000 pictures of every little moment. I’ve actually put a caption on all 5338 photos.

This blog started becoming that baby book. The more time passed, the more earth-shattering and perfect I felt my first post back should be. And with that mind-set, it’s been over a year. So, like a Seinfeld episode, I am doing a post about nothing. Hopefully, this will force me into the realization that there is no perfect pen, post, or thought. But lots of moments, some that I just may want to write about.

Growing up my friends list was mostly guys. I liked hanging around with guys throughout high school. I did have a best girl friend. I love her dearly, but as most girls, she was super-high maintenance. I guess that was why I was drawn to guy friends, more fun, less drama. I never really thought much about it.

Later in my life, when my Mother died, some of her friends came up to me and told me how much her friendship meant to them. They told of stories when they all worked together, about this incredible lady who really wanted the best for them. They told me that, unlike other women they knew, she was so supportive. She instilled in them that they could do anything that they wanted to, encouraged them to be super mom’s, super friends and always go for the gold. Whether it was a promotion or personal goal, my Mom was there routing for them. She set a wonderful example and they all followed. They said that most women don’t like to see other women succeed, that, in their experiences, it was much more of a competitive, less than honest world of women out there and that my mom was a jewel. I’m glad I was raised by Peggy Celentano. I hope to always be a friend to the women in my life like she was and to always gravitate towards women like my mom.

So, back to why I like men. It has been my personal experience that whenever I get a woman on the phone regarding any customer service, I’d better hang up. If I have a problem with a bill, a special order, a hotel room request, a car rental service, if a woman answers, chances are, I will not get any help. I’m not sure why. Like somewhere deep in the gene makeup women simply don’t want to help other women. Maybe even subconsciously.

I actually have called the Disneyland Hotel several times over the years, was told that the Annual Passholders discounts had expired, that all hotels were sold out. I would simply hang up the phone, call back, wait for a man to answer and then have a choice of several rooms, discounts, and special requests. I am not kidding.

I’ve called airlines about frequent flier miles, and have had terrible luck. Called back several times until a man answered and walla, perfect customer service. I’ve talked to exceptions to this rule, but they are few and far between.

I have a credit card that I forgot to pay this month (it’s due later than everything else). I realized 5 days after it’s due date and went online to pay it. Sadly, they charged me a $39 late fee, raised my APR to 29% and tacked on horrible finance charges. Called, spoke to a woman, no luck. Called back, spoke to a man, he reversed the late fee, took off all of the finance charges for the month and reduced my APR even lower than it was before and asked me if there was anything else he could do to help me.

There is something to all this. Until I get a PhD in Psychology, I’ll keep calling back until a man answers, even if I’ve been on hold forever waiting for the ‘next available operator,’ because I know it’ll be worth it.

Or, maybe it’s just me.

Blogged from Treehugger.

“It is the Food issue of Good Magazine, and the lead article is about happy meat. “It’s not enough anymore to glance at the “antibiotic-free” sticker and dig in. People want to know that their dinner roamed free in a shady pasture, slept on a pillowy bed of hay, lived a happy life, and died a noble death. And then they want to eat.” “

Funny, that would make me feel a little better, except in a disturbing conversation with my cousin (my favorite cousin, a smart woman, mother of two, affluent, educated and a recent cancer survivor) I found just the opposite to be true. While trying to enlighten her with the … if you’re going to eat meat, poultry, dairy then maybe it would be best to have an awareness of it’s source. You know, free of antibiotics, growth hormones, treated humanely, free to roam, some sort of quality of life prior to the slaughterhouse, yada, yada. I guess I was trying to say to her that, while I can’t expect everyone to share my veg ways, I think it would be a good idea to make a decision to buy humanely (better for you, better for the animals, environment, etc). What surprised me the most was her response. She said if she knew the animal had a good life, she wouldn’t be able to eat it. It’s knowing it’s miserable and has no life that makes it reasonable for her to eat it. Gulp.

I am snuggled on the couch – my adorable kids on either side watching Christmas movies (I have a feeling we’re going to be doing this well into the New Year). What could be better than this? Nothing. Not a single thing.

My resolutions for 2008? More of this. A lot more. More snuggling, more cuddling, more walks and talks, more cooking, more baking, more messy art projects, more gardening, more listening, more of all the things that make my our, lives so incredible. In this material world, the things that make my heart full are truly priceless.

I will suck up every single moment my daughter wants to lay her head on my shoulder and my son wants me to build lego sets with him.

That’s what I’ll be doing this year.

Happy New Year.

Awake

Days are funny. We’re all home sick with some, creepy, crawly, stomach bug. Watching my kids vomit for a couple days has affected every fiber of my being. And, although, I wish them abundant health and relief for all that is ailing their little bellies, I’m enjoying nothing to do. We’re coloring, we’re watching Get Smart’s and I Dream of Jeannie’s. I’m making wholesome, organic soup, and I’m wondering …why are we always looking outside our little family for adventure when staying home is so lovely. We are doing absolutely nothing but sipping ginger ale and nibbling on dry toast. I am relieved that this bug has reverted itself to the rear exit and soon hopefully gone for good. I’m looking forward to when we are all feeling better so we can … do nothing.
This has been a little reminder of what is fun about being a family and providing a lovely little home. It’s the little moments filled with wonder that make this short time the little ones are little ones so magical. Great conversations with little open minds. Creativity flowing through messy art projects and cakes in the oven. Picking apples and pears from the tree. At the end of the day, it’s those tiny little moments that add up to what makes me truly happy.
I look at the magnificent little faces that I get to spend my days and I realize that I do live in state of constant, total, amazement – diarrhea or not.

Sixteen years ago today I married an amazing man. We had a record fast courtship. Met at my offices above the Whisky-a-Go-Go in Hollywood. I had a magazine, he had a band. We fell in love so fast, so hard, it was amazing. Six weeks later, during a late night run to Jerry’s Deli, decided that it would make perfect sense to be married. The next day, the 4th of July, we went to Laughlin, Nevada. For the record, you can’t get married on a whim in Laughlin, so we headed to Vegas.  We drove in the blackness on a little hilly highway to tie our knot in Vegas. Fireworks and bats followed in the dark sky above my little red VW convertible. Courthouse was closed for the 4th, so we gambled, talked about our future together and waited patiently until the sun came up. Then at 8:30 am on the 5th we were married at a funny little chapel with a drive thru window. Deliriously tired and happy, we drove home. Had our wedding dinner at Denny’s Barstow and headed back to Hollywood. Days later we began telling the family, sharing our love and our wonderful news. Shocked and always accepting, my family welcomed my husband and 16 years and 2 yummy kids later we still are deliriously happy. Happy Anniversary to the love of my life.

Once in a while
In a big blue moon
There comes a night like this
Like some surrealist
Invented this 4th of July
Night ride home

Hula girls
And caterpillar tractors in the sand
The ukulele man
The fireworks
This 4th of July
Night ride home

I love the man beside me
We love the open road
No phones till Friday
Far from the overkill
Far from the overload

Back at the bar
The band tears down
But out here in the headlight beams
The silver powerlines
Gleam
On this 4th of July
Night ride home

Round the curve
And a big dark horse
Red taillights on his hide
Is keeping right alongside
Rev for stride
4th of July
Night ride home

I love the man beside me
We love the open road
No phones till Friday
Far from the undertow
Far from the overload

Once in awhile
In a big blue moon
There comes a night like this
Like some surrealist
Invented this 4th of July
Night ride home

Stopping at the Hollywood Rocks offices, I got a cassette of Joni Mitchell’s soon to be released album, Night Ride Home. We grabbed it and left for Vegas. How could we have known that the title track was, somehow, written for us. Thank you Joni Mitchell for our wedding song.

I don’t know much about Chinese culture or Chinese business for that matter. I have no right writing this, but that doesn’t stop me because the daily disgust is making me batty.

My daughter inherited a lot of Thomas Trains from her big bro, though, technically, they are still his. She loves whatever he loves, so it’s no surprise she loves trains. She especially was taken by the musical caboose. She carried it around with her a lot. She chewed on it when she was teething. It, along with a slew of others were just recalled for having an excess amount of surface lead paint. Even the wording gives me the chills. Excess amount. Is there an amount that is not excess? Luckily, most of my 10 year old sons train were made in England, before the switch to lower production costs in China (funny thing, those lower costs were not passed on to the consumer). My young nephews collections had to be raided. Being just three-years-old, all of his Thomas trains were made in China.

I am not especially proud to be an American right now. In fact, I try hard, when around people visiting from other countries, not to come right out and apologize for the behavior of this country. I am not into westernizing everywhere. I fight just to keep chain stores out of my little town. So I don’t expect the Chinese to have the same tastes or culture as I. I do however, expect some sort of conscience. Thanks to America, and all those trinkets, clothing and toys we suddenly can’t live without, China’s blossoming into a strong economic force. Good for them, but at what cost? Lately in the news, stories from China have been turning my stomach.

Today I read about the Chinese government reopening trade of tiger parts, which, experts say, will increase poacher trade and work to further diminish the numbers of this already endangered animal.

And, in my love/hate relationship with the internet and instant access to all things depressing, there was a photograph of a tiger attacking a pigeon. Seems live animals like pigeons and even goats are routinely fed to carnivores like tigers as part of Chinese zoo entertainment.

Then, of course, are the thousand of elephants being killed for the ivory tusks. An article this week stated the concern over the increase in illegal ivory trade. Experts state that is due to the “potent and new economic forces in China that traditionally value ivory.”

Ugg. What about the poor, near extinct rhino that may never recover because of the Chinese need to grind up their horns a cure for everything from impotency to devil possession.

The corrupt, ‘new-money’ folks in China just can’t seem to get enough. Kinda like Eurotrash. New tacky rich spending endlessly with no moral compass.

The Yin/Yang symbol created in China, I don’t believe, was to represent the new rich and the slave poor. My soul also aches for not only the women and children working in slave conditions for 18-20 hour days for mere pennies, but for all the daughters who have died because of gender selection. Since government regulations limiting offspring to one child per family, the World Health Organization issued a report claiming that “more than 50 million females were estimated to be ‘missing’ in China because of the institutionalized killing and neglect of girls due to Beijing’s population control.”

Everywhere I turn is yet another negative news article out of China. If the Chinese were responsible for Feng Shui and the Yin/Yang symbol of balance and harmony, what then is going so terribly wrong? And how much of it are we to blame?

Is it too much to ask, that if the Chinese are now working their way up the economic and social ladder that they can, as well, work equally to grow mindful of their decisions? Hey, I mean, I used to eat meat, but due to industry changes and environmental concerns, I have quit and have been working towards a completely vegan existence.

I’m off to Disneyland tomorrow with the kids. How am I going to get in and out without some slave toy my daughter must have. Can she help it that she loves Minnie Mouse and friends? Shouldn’t she be able to pick up a toy free of cancer causing contaminants like lead and PVC’s? Shouldn’t we have the option to buy ‘fair trade’ Disney toys? I’d be first in line. I would love to buy my kids one special Disney themed toy that had a clean trail instead of a bunch of poison made by enslaved children as young as my son.

Gee, I hope that there is another side to all of this. Until that enlightening, I am going to really try and avoid all things ‘made in China.’

I like to achieve balance in my everyday decisions and choices. Sometimes, though, balance in my life comes from pure happiness and pure sadness. Yesterday was the 4th anniversary of my mother’s death. I forgot this day, until I was trying to fall asleep and it hit me. I can’t believe how quickly four years have passed. I can still feel her touch and smell her perfume like it was yesterday. I want her here so bad it hurts and forgetting this day is part of my own denial. My boy said to me today I’ve spent almost half of my life now without Grandma. Then we both cried. He said a prayer thanking her for her part in all the wonderful things that happened to our family since she left us. That is where the pure joy comes in. Our beautiful home in a community that I, for the first time in my life, feel a part of. A beautiful miracle of a daughter, pure joy for my sister who found her soulmate and three more beautiful babies who would have made my mom a great grandmother.

A whirlwind four years of magic and love and richness of soul. I’ve never in my life had so many incredible things to be thankful for in such a short amount of time…but then again….she isn’t physically here to share them. She’ll never know my boy as he grows into a young man, never hold my daughter, never see my sister’s new life, never meet her three gorgeous great-grandsons.

Life is filled with happiness and sorrow so tightly intertwined. Sometimes my life is so in balance, I can hardly breathe.

From one wildflower came a family of warm love and beautiful sunshine. My life is full of happiness and wonder. My husband and children keep me smiling and my heart content. I’m a hippie mama at heart with a knack for being a pretty smart consumer. I try to live mindfully of my choices and decisions on everything. We’re a homeschooling, charter-school attending, toddler-nursing, organic gardening, veg family who tries to live honestly and happily in the beautiful Ojai valley.

I’ve been a photographer for as long as I could remember, and have always tried to document my families lives in pictures. But lately, my outspoken self needs a new place to share, express and vent. Even though a picture can be a 1000 words, I often have 1000 more.

I’d like to think if I want, need it, do it, have it, think it … it’s of some importance and value. Chances are, I’ve thought about it, researched it and had endless inner-dialogs about it before it reaches here. I’m not even sure if I’m going to post publicly or privately. What I do know, is if, maybe, I get it out of my head, I might actually sleep. More than anything, what I wish to write will be messy, hopeful, insightful, every-day musings filled with lots of things about my little family that I don’t want to ever forget.