crazedparent

Birthday girl...

Little Luna Lovegood turned one today. The boys have asked if we can bake a cake to celebrate. Any excuse for frosting. And guess what? I'm game. She's had a tough year, but it seems like she's making the most of it. On our couch.

Happy birthday Luna Lovegood.

The bed is broken...

"What did the doctor tell the five little monkeys?" I ask in a motherly, syrupy tone as the boys stand on our bed after pretending it's their personal trampoline.

"No more monkeys jumping on the bed!" they cheer back, hopping off the mattress as they scurry to get ready for school.

***

I climbed in bed Sunday night and within seconds heard the "clunk" of something not good as the corner of my "side" dropped to the ground. It would appear as if I had broken our bed. And I didn't even have fun in the process, I thought to myself. But no, it was the boys. Their fun and games had split a piece of wood that held the sides together.
 

It was near midnight as my husband and I took apart our 11-year-old Shaker-style bed frame. The bedframe hand-made by my brother as a wedding gift. It now sits in pieces, the head and foot board resting in the playroom while the remaining parts are on the floor in our room.

The boys woke up Monday morning while we were still asleep, our mattress on the hardwood. "Heeeey," I heard, "Why's your bed on the floor, guys?"

"Because some little monkeys jumped a little too much on the bed after the doctor told them to knock it off,"  I answered only to hear Six laughing...as he jumped on the bed.

"Hey mom, guess what? Now it will be so much easier for us to get on the bed! And Luna doesn't even need help to jump on it!"

Leave it to a him to find some good out of mom and dad sleeping on the floor.

You must love this song...

Alejandro Sanz is one of my serious Latin crushes. (You may recall his sizzle with a steamy Shakira video for La Tortura".) I've been listening to "Try to Save Your Song" over and over because I just can't get the silky smooth blend of the horns, guitars, drums, and ahem, vocals of Alejandro, ll bubbling up to that big crescendo. Don't worry about understanding the words. Just pretend you're chilling out with a fruity libation with the tunes loud and the beat strong. Go on. You'll thank me for it.

Hi, remember me?...

I've been neglecting my little crazedparent nook while I soak in the goodness of my new job. The only word that describes my current state of mind is "giddy." I was able to hang out with so many smart, lovely blogging friends over the past few weeks at events in San Francisco and Chicago and I'm guessing my giddiness was visible (Ladies, was I dripping with the gid?) I hate being cryptic, so I'll just say I'm the parenting editor of this new site.

Of late, I've been spending my time thinking about writing. Not my work-related writing, but creative writing. The essays that I love to scribe and read. I find myself asking, What makes a good writer? What differentiates writers like Anna Quindlen from Jodi Picoult? Toni Morrison from Nora Zeale Hurston? Po Bronson from Malcom Gladwell? While they all cover different genres -- fiction, non-fiction, investigative journalism, social commentary -- each of them write stories that lure me in, even when I don't want to be lured. And when I'm done reading, I feel so grateful to have immersed in this journey of words.

I sit down to try to get my own words on paper and find myself stuck in language, my writing voice tainted by what I want to emulate and what is really mine.

Over the weekend I read a wonderful essay by Toni Mirosevich. It was a simple story with a powerful theme. No grandiose metaphors. Just everyday language that was brilliantly coupled, word by word, line by line.

It was just the reminder I needed that big thoughts don't require big words. It's all about the lure of good, solid storytelling. With a splash of bold color.

I think I can do that. Or shall I say, I'm up for the challenge.

What do you think makes good writing? And what authors/essayists/writers do you love to read?

How to quickly lose $65...

It's 10:23pm on Tuesday evening and I'm sitting at Gate 84 in San Francisco International Airport, waiting for my red eye flight to Chicago to board. As I left the house, I felt like I was missing something. My driver went through the mental checklist -- laptop, jacket, gloves, scarf, boarding pass, wallet, luggage -- okay, it's all there. We were on the road for about 15 minutes when it occurred to me that I'd left all of my makeup at home.

"Crap," I sighed from the back seat when I'd realized my error with the knowledge that the stores in Chicago wouldn't be open before my first meeting.

I ran through airport security, hoping to get to my saving grace -- The Body Shop -- before it closed. But first, airport security made me cringe and as they tossed my $20 Aveda hair gel into the trash. Ouch.

I scurried to Body Shop store window as the cleaners started to bring in the equipment. The managers were closing out the registers.

"I can see you're about to close. I just left all of my make up at home. I know exactly what I need. Please, please, I promise I'll be super fast if you just let me get what I need," I pleaded.

"Make it quick, and don't step on the wet floors," the male manager answered with an annoyed eye roll.

I ran around different displays quickly picking up eyeliner, mascara, eyeshadows, the works. The female manager helped me, asking what I needed and pulled the items off the shelf. This was a woman who knew my pain. And to the folks at The Body Shop corporate, the gal who works the late-night shift at SFO rocks. Because in less than five minutes, I had spent $65 on a second batch of makeup.

I hate flying. I'm so exhausted I'm praying (the rosary) that I'll fall asleep for the length of the flight.

And to those of you who I hope to see on Wednesday in Chicago, check out my new, purdy eyeshadow. It'll make it all worthwhile.

Music-inspired bad hair...

As I drove home after dropping Six and Q. off at their schools, "Obsession" by Animotion came onto the radio. I use to love that keyboard-inflamed song. But back in 1984, my tween self really wanted the hairstyle of the female lead, Astrid, in the Obesession video. The side ponytail with perfectly pumped bangs. To. die. for.

But Astrid's do was no competition for Sheena Easton after Prince brought her into his purple lair for "Sugar Walls." The modern Farrah Fawcett feathered look but with amped up bangs. I mean, even Martha from Supercuts could give me that look.

Somewhere along the line I decided to go with my Latin groove and copied the look of Lisa Lisa (of Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam). A dramatic mix that combined the girl mullet with the mod bangs (only one bottle of hairspray a week compared to the above). The sticking point was the shaved sideburns, to which my mom replied: "Ya te deje que no. No y no y no y no y no." I think you get the drift of that conversation, especially the part with me slamming my bedroom door, throwing myself on my canopy bed with the pink comforter, and crying dramatically wondering how I would ever look cool without shaved sideburns.

Those stupid bangs were forever in my eyes and I just couldn't rock the headband like Lisa Lisa. So I went back to my metal roots. Hair metal. There was only one true female rocker to mimic: Lita Ford. Lita Ford and big, big, BIG frosted blond hair. (Mom said no to that one, too).

It wasn't until I met a certain boy in high school that I stopped trying to sport the music-inspired bad hair. I guess it was a good move since he decided to stick around and marry me.

Okay, your turn -- what rock stars or actresses inspired some bad hair days for you?

Why I love working from home...

Oh I know. You don't want to hear it. You're stuck in your office, why should you care why I love working from home?  Because remember, if you follow your heart and pursue a dream with a fiery passion, you can do what you want, too. Okay, I'll stop.

Working from home can get lonely. A year ago, when my husband and I decided to get a puppy to celebrate our 10 year wedding anniversary, one of my reasons for wanting this over, say, a shiny, new bauble, was simple. My kids would both be in school in the fall. I'd hate being alone in the house, however small it is.  A dog, I knew, would keep me company and force me to take breaks when she needed breaks. And she'd be cute and furry and never say "You're mean, Mommy."

My vision of having a puppy that follows me around the house everyday has pretty much come true. Except when she's sleeping on our bed in the middle of the day, taunting me because I can't take a nap. But most of the time, she's right next to me on the floor. Wherever I'm working or hanging out. She looks up at me every so often to check in. And it's pretty cute.

Every day I tell myself I should go work at a coffee house just for a new vibe. And I'm also trying to figure out if I need to hire a babysitter on the days that Q. is home from school so I can get more shiz done. This would require me not to be in the house because it's just too small for that much noise and a working mama. And truth be told, I like working at home. Not because I can work in my jammies. (I don't.) Not because I can multi-task with laundry and dishes (cool, but distracting sometimes). And not just because I am more productive than at the office yet still get to participate in all things kid related (way true).

I dig working from home because I get to hang out with little Luna Lovegood. Wouldn't you?