the DEMON is out

"Each child is an adventure into a better life - an opportunity to change the old pattern and make it new." Hubert Humphrey



Last week, I ordered fifty-three parenting books.
Caleb smashed my temple with a metal car when I was trying to get him to share with his brother and it hurt so much and I got so enraged... while nothing in particular happened, it just felt really, really ugly. This incident was not isolated, over the past few months a shrillness has crept into my voice with a frequency that wasn't there even six months ago.
When one of my children's wills butts up against my own and there's just the right mix of this and that on both sides- ah beware. They turn me into a crazy monster and afterwards make me wonder "Who was that person?" followed by a chilling "oh, I know her very well. She's my worst self. My Very. Worst. Self." Yes, she's my dark secret, like Mr. Rochester's ex-wife locked up in the attic. She doesn't get out that often, but when she does she Rages. She snarls, she snorts, her face contorts into scary, weird, grotesque expressions. She pulls her hair and gnashes her teeth. She throws things, she yells at people, she swears (does she ever have a sailor's mouth). She's a demon.
For obvious reasons, I find it very unsettling that the people I love the most, the sweetest, dearest, purest little precious children who giggle and laugh with me and make my heart burst with joy, they're the ones, yes, THEY'RE the culprits, that bring her out of me more frequently than anyone else in my adult life.
Also, these angelic creatures- THEY turn into slobbering, snarling demons too, even more then I do. Of course, this is to be expected. They're children, (er, right?) Recognize the little cherub cuddling with me earlier? Well, now he's hitting, biting and kicking me. And I'm not alone, this little quip from Ross Greene's "Explosive Child" made me feel better : "Amy's parents would ... inform her that a time-out was imminent. Amy would begin throwing things at her parents...would try to scratch and claw... spit on or bite or head-butt them. They would confine Amy to her room until she calmed down. Once locked in her room-when her parents were actually able to get her there- she would destroy anything she could get her hands on, including some of her favorite toys... including her mirror."
All because they asked her to brush her teeth. Yep. Just trying to keep her chompers from rotting out of her head.
Reading about Amy also showed me a glimpse of what may be as wills strengthen, patterns harden, life gets more complicated and stressful as responsibilities grow. I don't know if demon-lady or demon-child will ever be good-riddanced out of the attic, but I've decided there are some ways that I can batten the hatches a little better now, and in the future, so they can't get out. Too often.
Since my kids have developed from passive infants to children with a will all their own, my old tricks- hungry? bored? tired?- just don't work like they used to. The meltdowns seem to come as unbidden as rainfall and all I can do is watch, helplessly, as the storm unfurls on us both. But as I've read my stacks, it turns out I might be wrong. According to what I'm reading, they can be practically eliminated with the right tools in hand.
I've set a very bold goal to
ELIMINATE THE EXPLOSIONS.
When I first ordered all these parenting books and they started arriving faster than I could even open them, I wondered if I was over-reacting. The car smashing wasn't that bad, mild in the grand scheme of things. I have two sets of twins! Things are going to get hairy sometimes. But I've been learning sooo much it's kind of exciting. I've decided to post every other day about the big list of goals I've cooked up.
More next time...

Confessions of an (unwitting) Shoplifter

It started innocently enough. One day when I was in the Children's Place and the kids were going crazy I left with a tie in the bottom of the shopping cart, one that I didn't know was there and didn't pay for. When I saw it I knew I couldn't put it back right away. As exhausted and harried as any mother of 14 month old twins would be who had just spent over two hours and two hundred dollars shopping the best sale she had ever been exposed to (huge clearance plus an employee-friend's discount) I could barely lift my hand to put the key in the ignition, let alone load the kids back into their strollers and walk all the way back to the store. In retrospect I really should have found a way. But I just felt I couldn't. I resolved to bring the tie back next time I was there. Little did I know that "next time" wound up being about two years later, and needlessly to say, I had forgotten all about the tie (which was too big and tucked away somewhere).
But a month after the Children's Place incident "we" shoplifted again, this time at Target. The little munchkins slipped something into the shopping cart and I didn't see when I put everything on the conveyor belt. It was a Cover girl foundation, SPF30, just my colour. I resolved to bring it back to Target, but since I go so rarely it wound up kicking around in my bathroom. One day I opened it and started using it.
If only I went back to these stores often it would be no problem, but running errands for me is inexplicably hard. I avoid them like the plague. I grocery shop every three weeks, I go to Target no more than a couple times a year. Once when we needed a bathtub toy container I just made one by drilling holes into the bottom of an empty plastic laundry box to avoid an errand. It was a turning point for me, and from then on whenever this little 'problem' would occur, this vulnerability created by too many kids, too many tasks, too little time, and a shopping cart with dark corners and shadowy basket edges, I'd make sure to return the shoplifted item immediately- in a clothing store I'd just chuck it on the first display shelf I found, at Target I brought it back to customer service. As hard as it was then, it was going to be impossible later.
But the bottle of foundation - I couldn't return that now. I'd broken the seal. And what if I did get questioned? What would I say? Would they believe it was unintentional or arrest me? I didn't have time or bandwidth to contemplate the dilemma between the doctors visits, therapy appointments, cerebral palsy hovering over us. I would have loved to correct the problem if I had the time and energy to do it. And then one day, the universe stepped in.
We were doing our bi-annual Target stop before hitting the library to make some returns. I had a few of the items in my purse, and, in helping me to load items from the cart to the conveyor belt, one of them had a barcode that got scanned even though it was clearly labeled as library material "High School Musical 2" (don't ask me why I had that dvd-it's too embarrassing ;) The total rang up around $16+tax. The cost of the foundation I had lifted plus interest.
I didn't find the blunder until later, but I faced the same problem. How was I going to find time to go back to the store and explain what had happened? Just as I was the unwilling benefactor of a pleasantry, I was now the unwilling benefactor of a penalty. Ah-ha! Justice! But miraculously, I didn't need to feel bad about paying for an empty barcode, I was spared the frustrations of the customer service line, because I owed them one.
Having two sets of twins through IVF has provided me with many ethical and moral dilemmas I never could have imagined, the least of which was shoplifting.
Now I better get that tie back to Children's Place before I get slapped with a heftiier late fee.

Vintage Fun

I love the book "Mitten Strings for God" by Katrina Kenison. It's about slowing down, scheduling empty afternoons and creating close, meaningful relationships with our little people. She tells a story of 'the breakfast tree', which was a tree that she and her mom sat in one morning with a breakfast picnic to welcome the day together. " ...we both recall the magic of that morning, how lovely it was. Over the years, I've come to think of the breakfast tree as a symbol of my childhood and of what I loved most about being a child-the kind of casual, daily intimacy with nature that was simply a way of life, a way of life that I took wholly for granted then and for which I am deeply grateful now. I suspect the breakfast tree symbolized something for my mother, too-it was a point of entry into my child's world, a place where a busy mother and a little girl once took in the world's wonders together, in a spirit of shared adventure and discovery."
Lately in these less-scheduled summer days I feel like there's a simplicity (not necessarily ease) to what my kids like to do best with their days- they tend to be happiest when they're given the ability to access discovery, adventure, and a type of magic that comes with all that. It's typically old fashioned fun without the help of technology, and it takes a bit of time, planning and focus on my part, but then again, just like the breakfast tree, I'm a part of the adventure, at least peripherally as I supply the location or the supplies, and the support. It's been having a picnic behind the piano, floating paper boats down a creek, capturing tadpoles, climbing trees, rolling down hills, pumping on a swing, picking up ants... I don't believe there are a shortage of moms who frown upon these things- ants might bite, or the creek could be contaminated, or you can get sap on yourself or slip out of the tree... All of this could be true. But I think most of the time these risks are hugely overblown; I encourage my kids to sample the world, to feel it on their fingers and breathe it into their bodies and experience it all of their own making. It's finding the wonder and beauty of simple things with my kids. I love it!



Summer is the best time to do it too, although if I get creative, there are opportunities inside and outside at any time of year. I love to take advantage of big swaths of parks with trees, hills, or even a creek because the boys could really just spend all day exploring it. When I slow down and do it with them, I can't deny that it's really special for me too.



"Suddenly, I realized, we truly did have something to celebrate: the joy of real togetherness."-Katrina Kenison
ps. I don't think it would be honest to give the impression that I've been feeling as calm and collected as this post may come across- this week has been particularly hairy, but I do like to focus on the calmness I feel when we're climbing trees or rolling down hills...

New York, I Love You

"Well, the flight is full." The stewardess who uttered these horrible words offered no pity, no sympathy, no understanding of what it had taken for us to get to this ticket counter. It seriously took everything that I had not to burst into tears right before her uncaring, pursed lips. But if I was honest, I can't say I was surprised. The whole trip to New York always seemed like it wasn't really going to happen. Hoop after hoop had to be cleared well before we ever stepped on a plane. First we had to "see about" our buddy passes from a very gracious friend, then we had to pack everybody and everybody's shirts, shorts, socks, shoes, diapers, wipes, sippy cups, toys and drive 6+ hairy hours to Grandma's house. Then Ian had to work remotely for a few days so the little guys could get used to things on site and quit keeping everybody up all night when we, er, abandoned them. Then Grandma and the aunties would be in charge of our four under four for four days, a feat that undoubtedly would be the hugest favour in the world except that Ian and I have to do it everyday and we just wanted to celebrate our 12-year anniversary with a special trip
(even still, it was a huge favour!). So while we were exhausting ourselves flying all day Thursday, flying back Sunday and then driving 6 hours back to LA, we were supposed to be having a good time. Yes, it really did seem like somehow, this was not going to happen. And maybe that was a good thing.
The day before Ian had sat me down and said that it might just be too stressful for us. And too glitchey. Why didn't we just call the whole thing off and drive up to a nice little place around San Francisco where we could get some sleep? After all, wouldn't it be best to rest, and, as Ian's Grandpa put it, New York isn't exactly a "sleepy little town." I wavered, I came close to relenting... why did I insist teetering us on these ledges of craziness? Who in their right minds would be doing all this to fly across the country for, like 2 days when it really came down to it? I had justified the trip in my mind because we were flying on buddy passes and we had a free hotel night we were using, but on the other hand that kind of travel is glitchy. Maybe the risk wasn't worth it... what if it totally backfired and we got stuck somewhere, or the kids were too much to handle and we couldn't get home? Maybe... hmm...
But then I got a funny feeling that we needed to go for it. Life was short. We may never get back to NYC for years and years, we didn't call on family too often the way every other 2x2 mom I know does, and whatever happened, just being together would be fun. Nobody was talking me off this ledge.
I was regretting all of that big time when we got to the airport and found out that the flight load, which our buddy pass benefactor told us looked "fine" the day before, was full- 149 seats were gone out of 150, and there were 3 standby passengers ahead of us. I ran to the phone to cancel our hotel, only to find that we would have to pay $509 for our "free" night, way more than it was actually worth, if we didn't show up, and the'd also charge us for the second night.
Again, it was all I could do not to burst into tears.
The best part of the trip happened right there when Ian just smiled at me. He didn't get mad, he didn't say "I told you so", he didn't even sigh or roll his eyes. He just smiled and said "let's go for it, whatever happens, we'll be together." He knew how much I wanted to go to New York, how hard it was for me to leave all those years ago, and how much I had been looking forward to our trip. So he just went with it. I know it wasn't easy for him to look so positive. And I have never loved him quite the way I did right then.
As we waited to get onto the flight to JFK and I saw how crowded the gate was, I just knew we weren't getting on, but I said a fervent little prayer that we would. In the grand scheme of things this was a pretty ridiculous request, but if there was any possible way we could get to New York so that we could have a wonderful time together and strengthen our marriage and make some good memories, to please please please let it happen.
As we sat watching the hoard board my heart was simultaenously sinking and pounding so loudly I was pretty sure everyone could hear it. Just before the desk closed the stewardess said that we did have a chance. PLEASE! I thought. PLEASE!!! NOBODY ELSE MAKE IT!! And, then, suddenly, moments before we were supposed to take off... she handed us tickets. And not even two middle seats at the back, these were two seats right next to each other at the front! One of the other standbys had canceled and another crew member had switched his seat so we could sit together.
I felt like we were walking on the clouds. By some miraculous miracle, we were going to be going to New York after all.
That turned out to be just the beginning. Our trip was perfection itself of an embarrassing variety. We didn't have any ugly run-ins that are so typical of this aggressive, type-A city. In fact, we kept noticing kind deeds- a group of people scrambling to help someone with their suitcases on the air train, a man in a hurry stopping to help a young mother with her stroller off Prince Street, some people helping someone with their crutches by Washington Square. And everywhere we ate was the best food we had eaten in ages. We started laughing about how it got to the point where we'd just be meandering around and turn a corner thinking oh, what's here? Oh, something else that's going to blow my mind. We'd hit the most outstanding chocolate shop or pizza parlour or cupcake bakery. Everything was amazing. Including the weather.


June is typically a cloud of humidity, but our days were perfect. Unbelievable. Sunny and a little warm with a baby breeze. And our trip was the best kind, we didn't do any of the 'big' things, like climb the Statue of Liberty or do the Empire State Buildiing, we just soaked in all the little things that make New York what it is. I sighed in deep comfort at the unique, musical little squeal of the subway train as it was pulling out of the platform. I never noticed how much I missed it. I loved seeing the kid with the white-boy fro who set up shop on the Brooklyn bridge, typewritter in lap and a cardboard sign saying POEMS FOR SALE taped to his stomach. I would have loved one of his typed poems, but a crowd of people beat me to it so Ian and I made up our own poems, his were so

good I thought he had gotten them from somewhere else.
I loved the amazing pizza we tried at 'KESTE' which means 'THIS IS IT' in Italian, and how all the people who served us were authentic Italians who spoke Italian to us like of course we'd be Italian too, and the crisp crust that gave way to chewy softness inside and ooey gooey cheese that tasted like the mushrooms it was paired with. And how we wandered into a cafe when the US vs. Slovenia World Cup game was on and the emotion of the crowd took us into its embrace as they went crazy for the 2nd goal and wept with despair at the robbery of the third goal and how instantly we were a part of things. Even wandering through Dean and Deluca and laughing at the $170/lb Waygu was such fun. Everywhere hydrangeas were blooming, sending their sweetly invisible scent in the air and all the people in all the parks were talking earnestly about their relationships, and we were strolling around, hand in hand.

On Saturday afternoon we went to an old favorite, Doughnut Plant, in the lower east side and got lavender, blueberry, tres leches, and peanut butter-glaze & blackberry-jam filled doughnuts with blueberry lemonade on the side and took a taxi up to the Bethesda fountain in Central Park for an impromptu picnic, driving past all the crazy places I used to work and laughing at all the crazy people I used to work with.


We drove past the building where I was when I watched the towers fall, and the building where I got my first paycheck in New York and sang "if you can make it here..." and we went to the bridge by the Dakota where we got pictures taken a million years ago when we were young and just starting law school and Ian still had most of his hair.
It just felt like the city was unbelievably generous to us. Strangers offerred us unsolicited subway information that saved our skins, lines to amazing restaurants weren't too long, the return flight was perfect, although after that first scare we cut our trip short a day so we could get onto a less crowded one, the "free" hotel night really did not charge us one penny, and every single minute was colourful, amazing, and precious. I do miss New York, after all these years I can't believe how instantly I felt at home again, but I'm inexplicably glad we're not living there. With our 2x2 situation it would be quite horrendous. But I'm so grateful that I do have a little bit of crazy ledge-jumping in me, and most of all that I have a husband who, when the moment is right, totally goes along with it. Also, amazing family in Sacramento who kindly and graciously watched our little guys so well and so uncomplainingly everyone was happy and safe and had no desire to return home. I'm glad we went. Somehow, this time, everything did work out.

The temple was amazing. We lived through all the renos but moved right before it was finished.

Where on Earth did the Year Go?- Joy School Graduation

Did an entire school year really just go by? It's hard for me to believe that our lessons from Joy School about how wonderful the earth is, the difference between 'healthy' food and 'sometimes' food, making Jack-o-lanterns while talking about feelings, and filling in a goal chart for each time Julian played nicely with his brothers were not just a couple weeks ago.
This has definitely been one of my happiest 'years'. (I'm talking school years here since so many endings and beginnings seem to occur in the June/September vicinity) I can't say I necessarily accomplished the most, but it was pretty happy. Having so many little kids at home is chaotic and frustrating at times, but I also realized this year how much fun it really can be. Caleb and Julian were finally cleared from having to go to so many doctors appointments and therapy visits and our days were free to explore LA, go to Disneyland, run in the grass, swing at the park, meet with friends, and do Joy School.

Joy School, for anyone who has no idea what I'm talking about, is a co-op preschool where moms take turns teaching all the kids in the group in their home. The lesson plans, which are pulled off a website usually the night before we're supposed to teach, are a little different from other preschools because they doesn't touch on letters or academic things. Each unit is about joy concepts like the Joy of the Earth, the Joy of Sharing and Service, Setting Goals, Being Curious, etc. Reading the book 'Teaching Your Children Joy' while teaching the units turned it into a parenting tool that helped me understand what my children are going through better and appreciate this chapter of life more fully (ie. at all ;). The Curiosity unit therapeutically helped me see Caleb's mixture experiments and the disapperance of an entire quart of extra virgin olive oil as an expression of curiosity, not just an attempt to make my life miserable. The unit on Goal setting showed me that my kids could actually work towards a goal, for example they can get themselves dressed and make their beds after breakfast in the morning, which they actually and surprisingly do quite consistently.
One of the best parts about Joy School was the families we did it with. By great good luck we all lived in a 4 or 5 block radius and the ability to walk to 'school' was awesome. The other moms are some of the most fabulous people in my life and it was a huge blessing to be a bigger part of each other's child-raising experiences. Also, they were kind enough not to make me teach doubletime since I had twins, which was a big sacrifice and something they always poo-pooed and never made me feel bad about whenever I expressed thanks. Finally, I have developed such a soft spot for the three other little boys in our group. It has been such a treat to watch their little personalities develop and see how different they are. I will always have a special place in my heart for them and enjoy keeping tabs on how they do as they all grow up.

At the graduation we had a slideshow of all the photos of the year- it was neat to see how much they'd grown and remember things like the Daddy-Day campout trip where all the dads took the kids camping and they even wound up on the local news... I know they're still young, a year away from kindgergarten, but it's going by fast so I threw in a song at the end that I edited a little called 'Blessed Be': "So dream on sweet dreams tonight, and we'll dream too of a future clean and bright. Dream on, soon you'll be Standing tall and free- Oh blessed be the hopes and dreams of our Baby."

Next year our group be all over the country and the world and Joy School as we knew it this past year will be no more. But I'm so grateful it worked out the way that it did and who knows?? Maybe next year will hold something even better in its own unique way. We'll just have to see...

Ian's Birthday Party

So I know I'm way behind on this, but Ian's birthday celebration this year was really fun. (I figured I had to make up for so many not-so-stellar years) We went bowling with our friends- it's the first time any of us had done it for awhile and it was sooo fun! Afterwards Ian took us to a little pizza place in Abbott Kinney that was fun and yummy and it felt like a bit of an adventure. The next day we had a BBQ party at our friends' place. The food was amazing, Ian grilled up some pizzas and they were so good. The next day, Ian's actual birthday, just he and I went to Disneyland in the afternoon and early evening. It seriously was the BEST birthday weekend. Love you honey!!

Life with an Elevator+4 little boys=many angels circling the building

When we were looking for a "temporary" abode three years ago one of the must-haves on the list was no stairs. After almost eating it, I just could not deal with two babies and flights of stairs from the parking garage if we all wanted to stay in one piece. Any place we looked at had to have a front door (and parking spot) at sidewalk level or come with an elevator. Since it's tough to find the former in Westwood, the latter was ours and has been awesome. So far.

Now that the kids are older and especially Jack and Christian are mobile the elevator is no longer our friend. For one thing, its incredibly impatient. It only gets summoned every 15 minutes or so so I'm not sure why it's always in a big hurry, but you can feel how desperately it wants to close the door as quickly as possible. I've memorized its open-time heartbeat by panicked heartbeat: 7 tiny seconds. This is nowhere near enough time to herd four little kids who all have minds and wills of their own over the tempting gap just the right size to throw mom's keys down, or maneuver a quad stroller that barely fits out the door. Or load in grocery carts laden with Costco food. So it's always closing on us and I have to push in the black bar quite hard to make it open again.

For one thing, it's the perfect recipe for pinched little fingers, crushed bones and severed digits. After all, it happened just recently to my friend, her little 2 1/2 year old, and their bathroom door. The incident resulted in a dangling finger and four hours before a doctor stitched it back on. This elevator is far more powerful, insensitive, and creviced than a mom and a bathroom door.

For another thing, it's the perfect recipe for chaos and mom-insanity. Tacking on the extra time it takes to go anywhere when we have to already have to pack snacks, locate and wash sippy cups, get kids dressed, wiped, socked and shod, last minute diaper changes etc. and THEN herd them to the elevator, try to get them all inside instead of playing on the stairs (while I get one the other runs away- you get the picture), and then exiting them safely and trying to herd them over to the car in the parking garage while trying to protect the wild little tykes from cars backing up and cars coming in and the massive garage door opening is unlike anything I've tried to do before. I need a sheepdog. I am a sheepdog.

I should be much more frustrated and upset, weeping on the ground, pulling my hair out and having a tantrum of my own when it literally takes me somedays 20 minutes (this is NOT an exaggeration) to get my kids from their car seats to the front entry of our apartment. Oh, and try to deal with a cargo load full of Costco loose food as well. My kids should be more maimed, and we should have far less Costco trips, but miraculously, and I'm talking about serious miracles here people, none of those things are really happening. Well, too much.

Lucky for us we have Wiley, Bingo and Champ. These are the trusty shopping carts that someone has thoughtfully placed in the parking garage to make cargo transfer possible. Wiley is the handiest, I don't know how he's in such good form, but he almost pushes himself. Bingo is solid and you can load him up with the heaviest stuff and Champ is just an all around good packhorse. I usually need all three to get our stuff up. But I can do it without too much problem. The kids love to sit in the child seats.

But even luckier for us, I have literally seen my kids fingers get fully pinched and caught and dragged in the sides of the doors while I'm thinking oh no, this is it, there's no way that's coming out but then miraculously their little hands slide out unharmed. I have seen my kids about to fall down the stairs while I'm trying to herd them back down into the elevator and as I'm watching in slowmotion it looks so bad I see an airlift in the immediate future, but then something lifts them and puts them back on their feet. I almost feel like I shouldn't talk about this unseen help because it sounds crazy or ungrateful, but I am not kidding, we should have had a thousand incidents by now and everybody's escaped with nothing worse than a couple scrapes.

As to my sanity, I have to admit I do get very grumpy sometimes, but it never lasts for very long and overall I'm good with it. The elevator keeps us humble, it helps me be more organized (well, than I would normally be;), use my time consciously and run our errands very efficiently. It helps me look at the things that I love about living here- walking distance to the temple, the best sushi right around the corner, and close to all the things Ian is working on so we get to see him more.

That being said, I don't want to tempt our good luck. We've been looking and thinking a TON about where we are going to move because we really do need to move. And our neighbors can't wait for us to move. And I must say a driveway sounds like a heavenly thing that I will never, ever take for granted. We made a massive list of pros and cons of all the places we are looking to move to and nothing is jumping out as a clear answer with a real advantage. So we're here for the moment. But every night and every morning we pray that we can find a house to move to and a plan to make that possible. (Caleb and Julian always pray for a house and a dog. Not in that order.) Hopefully we find it soon!

the Power of Moms-Friends

I love being a SAHM, but definitely one of the difficulties is that it kind of inherently cuts you off from the world. No office to go to every day, no boss motivating me or group lunches to herd over to.
Lucky for me, I have an amazing and inspiring group of mom friends who are in every way my colleagues. I met many of them when Caleb and Julian were just a few months old and they have made my experience so much more than it otherwise would have been. Our kids are mostly all the same ages so we have a lot in common. Getting together with them multiple times a week over the past 3+ years has been amazing- probably more fun for us than our kids. We go to Disneyland together, try out parks, and we're doing a 5k run in two weeks. We go to the occasional movie together and do baby-sitting swaps so that we can get in low-cost date nights. We watch each other's kids so that we can go to the doctor, the grocer or for a haircut (although with my four kids I might do this a little less than some others. The fact that I have friends brave enough to help me at all speaks volumes as to how amazing these ladies are). We take turns teaching a music class on Friday mornings for our kids, and on Tuesdays we get together for bike-riding. They have steered me towards fun, low-cost gymnastics classes and helped me figure out what to do for preschool. I swap dinners each week with one friend and another has let us plant a garden at her house. They motivate me to exercise, eat better, develop my talents, be more patient and overall be a better mom, a better wife and a better friend.
I don't know what I would do without my mom-friends.
Sadly, many of them are moving out of LA this summer. So this past weekend we headed up to San Francisco for a last hurrah girls' get together. In total, we were leaving behind 20 children and 8 supportive husbands (and my amazing mom-in-law who sacrificed her own Mother's Day to carry my load. The Mother's Day thing was totally unintentional by the way. We figured it out after the plane tix were bought...)



We got to our hotel in Union Square on Friday night (although on the plane ride over we had a stir when we recognized Jesse Metcalfe from 'John Tucker Must Die' riding 1st class on our flight). But the biggest treat was meeting up with Katie at SFO, who flew in from London just for our special weekend. Together we trekked over to the Ferry Building for the world's most amazing hamburgers and sweet potato fries, and then brought cheesecake back to the hotel for a pajama party over 'the Young Victoria'. I could have gone home that night having had an amazing time, but the fun was just beginning.

The next day we got up early for a gorgeous morning run along the water, then we all got manicures and pedicures (for me it had been YEARS since this last splurge) and started a conversation that carried us through the rest of the day: How did you meet your husband? And how did you get engaged? I had heard these stories in bits and pieces, but it was great to get the full version from everyone. While a couple girls went to the Wicked matinee we hit H&M, Anthro, Nordstroms and walked to Ghiradelli Square and rode the cable car. That night we ate at an awesome local joint called 'Sears Fine Foods' where Katie gave me a bite of the most delicious grilled cheese sandwich with pesto, butternut squash, and white cheddar. Unbelievable. We stayed up late Saturday night listening to everyone's stories, and as I listened I seriously felt like I was watching lots of romantic comedies. Some of these stories were way better than a movie!

On Sunday we mostly hung out in Golden Gate Park, chatted, and took tons of photos of us- by ourselves. Like an individual photo. It was crazy! I can't wait for the exceptionally talented photographer Lindsay's photos of the occasion- it was definitely a weekend to remember. I came home excited to see all my boys, with a fresh perspective on all the things I've got going on here and a much longer fuse than I had last week.

It was my kind of fun. We talked about doing another one in five years.
I'm in.