Category Archives: Family

Jul 23 2012
3 Comments
Family, Life, Travel

It’s Not an Adventure Until You Get Lost

Heading the wrong direction south on I-5 tonight with no exit to turn around for miles, I reminded myself that it’s all part of the adventure.  In the past 36 hours I have flown from Lihue to Honolulu to Oakland, driven from Oakland to Sacramento, and then from Sacramento to Mt. Shasta and then Ashland.  Needless to say, I’m ready for a week of relaxation on the Oregon coast, but I’m also trying to make the most out of the time spent getting places, even when lost.

That’s the thing I’ve noticed lately, time is moving faster, and faster, and faster.  The prospect of this only accelerating is frightening.  Hawaii was gone in a second, Oregon will likely be too, I’m realizing that life is way too short to spend impatient, ever.  So, each moment I catch myself wanting to get to the next thing, I stop and remind myself that there is something worthwhile in every moment, even if it is just laughter, a little lesson, or time to reflect.  Besides, knowing where you’re going all the time can be pretty boring, both in travel and in life.

A stolen moment along the route to Ashland today, the headwaters in Mt. Shasta have a beautiful little labyrinth trail filled with streams and a place you can actually drink water coming off the mountain.  My favorite spot is a small bridge that you can stop and dip your feet in the icy water.

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Jul 11 2012
4 Comments
Family, Life, Writing

Enough.

“I would like to share what I’ve discovered in my considerable years of experience. The secret is a simple word and will at first, without contemplation, sound rather flat but give it some thought. We have been raised to have high expectations and excel for excellence — to be the most, the best, the ultimate. And, although I still believe we should work hard and strive for a better life, my contention and my prayer for those I love is that they will find the life they have chosen to be ENOUGH. I believe that word is the most underestimated word in our culture. To look at your husband, family and friends and think this life is enough… What a gift from God!”

Some of my favorite words, left as a blog comment by my aunt earlier this year.  I love the truth of her statement.  Every time I start to get impatient, I remind myself that what I already have is enough.

Thank you, Aunt Debby!

We always think that achieving specific milestones will fix everything, but really they’re just icing on the cake!

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Jul 09 2012
14 Comments
Family, Life, Writing

Overexposure.

“Studies have shown that, indeed, introverts are more likely than extroverts to express intimate facts about themselves online that their family and friends would be surprised to read, to say that they can express the ‘real me’ online, and to spend more time in certain types of online discussions… The same person that would never raise his hand in a lecture hall of two hundred people might blog to two thousand, or two million, without thinking twice.”

– Susan Cain, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can’t Stop Talking

This statement is generally true for me, (although I might raise my hand in a giant lecture hall if my participation grade depended on it…).  I express myself better with written words and find that I share more willingly behind the protection of a computer screen.  However, every once in awhile, I blog and walk away unsettled with some piece of myself that I too openly shared.  Yesterday, was one of those days.

I wrote about the pressures on women to have it all, flourishing careers and children.  Inspired by the brave author of that Atlantic article, Anne-Marie Slaughter, I found myself sharing more than I normally would about my own tug-of-war between career and children.  Each time I reread my words, I had a hard time pinpointing what exactly made me feel uncomfortable, but still, there was something there, some part of me overexposed and vulnerable that I just could not leave on the internet for all to read.  I deleted it.

In bird by bird, Anne Lamott says, “We write to expose the unexposed.  If there is one door in the castle you have been told not to go through, you must…  Most human beings are dedicated to keeping that one door shut.  But the writer’s job is to see what’s behind it, to see the bleak unspeakable stuff, and to turn the unspeakable into words…  You can’t do this without discovering your own true voice and you can’t find your true voice and peer behind the door and report honestly and clearly to us if your parents are reading over your shoulder.  They are probably the ones that told you not to open that door in the first place.”

That’s the funny thing about blogging.  It can be very raw and exposed for that exact reason.  All of the people in your life are sitting on your shoulder and sometimes it is difficult to find the exact words to help them understand what you’re really feeling.  Even though I did not say anything over-the-top, or crazy yesterday, and no one in my life reacted negatively, I still felt vulnerable because the topic of family is sacred to me.  I could not expose myself without feeling overexposed.

I like what a close family member said to me last night, sitting out under the stars, “Expose yourself in fiction.”  For now, I agree, even if I deeply admire people like the author of that article, people willing to expose themselves to make some greater point.

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Jun 26 2012
9 Comments
Family, Life, Travel

Welcome to Mt. Shasta

This week I am visiting my mom in Mt. Shasta, which means, among other things, limited access to internet because her house in the woods is wired only through dial-up, and I am not patient enough for that kind of thing.  Now, when I say Mt. Shasta, I mean the little town at the base of the mountain, not the big party lake an hour away with house boats and drunk spring-breakers.

It is easy to drive through Mt. Shasta on I-5 heading to or from Oregon and not even notice it.  From the freeway, you can’t really tell there is a cute little town filled with shops and restaurants.  But, that’s not really what you come to Mt. Shasta for anyway.  The first time we visited Mt. Shasta, back when my mom still lived in Sacramento, we came to camp.  That’s really what you visit Mt. Shasta for, the outdoors.

My mom lives five minutes from a beautiful little lake, Lake Siskiyou, and twenty minutes from an even better lake, Castle Lake, which is crystal clear and glass-like.  Not to mention all the waterfalls and mountain vistas.  Now all of this is good and well, but Mt. Shasta is also weird, which makes it more interesting.  Good weird of course.  It’s a mixture of red necks and hippies, which always makes for some good fun.  If you did not already guess, my mom lands on the hippie side.  In fact, one of my most memorable Mt. Shasta memories was when my mom hired a local Shaman to bless my marriage with a meditative ceremony.

My weirdest Mt. Shasta moment, however, was the night my brother challenged Mt. Shasta to scare him.  It is helpful background knowledge to know that my brother is the graduate of a pretty cool sustainable agriculture program in Bolinas and sleeps outside most nights by choice, so he’s a wilderness all-star.  I, on the other hand, get spooked when we sit out under the stars, which is what started this whole challenge in the first place.  My brother wanted to show me there is nothing to be afraid of out there, yelling his challenge into the darkness.

That night, when we were all asleep in bed, we awakened to the sound of something pounding on the roof.  And, when I say pounding, I mean our room was shaking, like something was jumping up and down over our bed repeatedly.  My first thought, close the huge open window behind my head.  As I slowly moved it shut, I feared I would attract attention.  I did not want the thing on the roof to hear the window shut.  I did not want it to get me.  In the middle of the night, all of those campfire stories of aliens, big foot, and mountain lions really come alive.

Granted we never figured out what the thing on the roof was, but my brother slept through it, undisturbed, just as he boasted.  I, on the hand, was left equally afraid of the wilderness at night, if not more so.  Mysterious scary beasts aside, Mt. Shasta is an unusual place worth stopping if you’re ever driving the long haul on I-5.  More pictures and stories to follow, I’m sure.

My fearless brother headed up to my mom’s with me.

Glorious Mt. Shasta

Downtown Mt. Shasta getting prepared for the big fourth of July race.

My mom’s front yard at dusk yesterday.

Entrance to my mom and stepdad’s beautiful garden.

Garden welcome sign pays homage to my beloved childhood pets.

My mom always has beautiful flowers from their property waiting for me on my childhood dresser, I love how she arranged the wildflowers at different heights.

Sunset welcome to Mt. Shasta at the edge of their property.

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Jun 24 2012
2 Comments
Family, Life, Writing

Blog Birth Announcement!

Turns out the aftermath of staying the weekend with me is that you start a blog of your own.  Announcing the birth of a new blog belonging to my very own kid sister.  I have to say, she’s pretty darn poignant for her years:

http://felizlife.wordpress.com/

Weekend w/ me = Concert in the park, time with the world’s best dog, coffee, basketball, running, and, oh yeah, a new blog!

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Jun 24 2012
7 Comments
Family, Health, Life, Style

All Women Have A Three-Dimensional Beauty That Moves

Tonight I found myself sitting in Naked Lounge, a coffee shop in Midtown Sacramento, with my teenage sister and her friend.  They have a summer routine of drawing in coffee shops, creating little pieces of artwork they leave behind on the bulletin boards, their creative mark left scattered throughout Sacramento for all to see.  As they sat working on their artwork, I took pictures.

While this in itself was enough to keep me amused, sitting, observing their routine, I noticed something else, something deeper as I photographed.  Like most girls and women I know, they were very picky about the pictures I took, even if they were beautiful to an outside eye.  It reminded me of how I felt about pictures when I was younger and how I look back at those same pictures today and think wow, what was I complaining about?

But, that’s the great irony of female existence.  The photographs I see of me today leave me convinced I’m past my prime, which is pretty ridiculous given I’m only 28.  Still, I see my face changing, lines forming, angles becoming more pronounced.  As much as I rolled my eyes at my sister and her friend, I do the exact same thing and always have.  Truth be told, if my hair is not blown dry and make-up is not on my face, I do not feel like I’m in any state to have a picture taken.

This left me thinking, what is wrong with us?  Is our self-worth really that dependent on idealized outer beauty?  Why can’t we see the true beauty that is right in front of us?  A friend and fellow blogger, Neurotic Nancy, wrote today about how good it felt to regain her confidence.  She went out and felt good about herself.  Imagine that, a woman comfortable in her own skin, proud of who she is, inside and out!  Why aren’t we raising girls like this, that see their whole selves in pictures instead of just the tiniest imperfections?

About six months ago, another friend in LA was hosting weekly public art installations of “ugly faces,” as an open rebellion against a societal obsession with vanity in a town that is built on it.  I was so intrigued by this concept that I submitted my own “ugly” shots, some of which are still buried somewhere on that page.  The funny thing is that it was genuinely difficult to take those pictures, like I was fighting against decades of social conditioning.

I guess the point of all of this is that it made me hyper-reflective to hear these girls be critical of themselves.  Beauty should be something we are proud of, something that emanates from the inside out.  I want my self-worth to be strong enough to see past the tiny imperfections of a moment trapped in time.  Ani DiFranco describes her beauty as a beauty that moves, that cannot be captured in a photograph.  I like this idea because it implies there is more to us than what we see in two dimensions.  All women have a three-dimensional beauty that moves, a beauty that should make us so proud that mere pictures never creep under our skin to undermine our self worth.  I have met a couple of women like this, whose smiles light up pictures, rooms, lives.  I do not know their secret, but I’m determined to figure it out.

Tenaya carries around this old tattered book she bought in Germany filled with her own artwork in the margins.

Kaitlyn busy drawing her contribution to the coffee shop bulletin board.

Still at work, and beautiful, no matter what she says.

Tenaya’s super awesome pencil box.

Pretty Tenaya.

And me.  Despite my messy, wavy hair, lack of make-up, and desire not to have my picture taken, I’m posting anyway.  No more letting pictures define me.

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Jun 20 2012
1 Comment
Family, Life, Writing

Through 16-year-old Eyes

Sixteen was magic, that first year where everything started to come together.  Tastes of freedom, independence.  A momentary eternity, I once wrote.

My little sister is now there, or almost.  Only a couple weeks to go.  Thirteen years apart, the gap between us is slowly closing.  She was the baby, the reason I could not watch R-rated movies.  Now, she is a source of depth, wisdom, and laughter.  Although, I guess she was always a source of laughter, possessing humor beyond her years.  My little sister is the glue that bound us all together.  She makes us one gloriously happy, rambunctious family.

The other night I caught a glimpse into her soul, listening to her recite poetry.  She is an artist, not only with words, but with pastels, watercolors, you name it.

I picked this one to share because it reminds me of me, thirteen years ago.  Life at sixteen is full of angst and wonder.

These are her words, not mine:

We used to dance through the field like feral butterflies.
Our wings grew and our cat feet lifted off the grass,
wind blew us side to side and kissed our bare cheeks.
Our mouths opened wide and we could see everything
as we let our laughter fill the dry air, making music with the birds.
The sky tasted strong and sweet,
like being held in Grandma Jo’s soft arms and under her warm gaze
in the frigid air conditioning of our Mckinney house.
You and I strutted through those halls,
because we were the coolest people we knew.
But we weren’t really cool at all.
But, still, we grew up
to do a new kind of dance
in the poorly lit, poorly ventilated hall
full of unknowns and familiars
all pulsing and numbing to the elegant drops of Dubstep.
Because they were lost, they knew exactly what to do.
Because they were blind, now they could see
the red hot sweat of rage and passion
filling their lungs and coating their eardrums.
We were the abstract hand prints painted on young, wet skin,
lit up only when the lights went out.
And with daylight we walk, undead,
with crusty eyes through walls and over buildings
and drown in coffee just to get by.

Kat knew, she had seen it all
and what she hadn’t seen would soon be her reality.
She was led down paths and to her fate
on candy leashes and with designer treats.
She had to lose herself to know who she never was.
Todo va a estar bien.
Porque eventually the skies would go back to business as usual
and the sun would lean down and brush tears from her eyes.
And lay us both back down in the neon grasses
in a bed of feral butterflies.

Looking at the world through her eyes…

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Jun 20 2012
1 Comment
Dogs, Family, Life, Pets, Teaching, Writing

Will Teach for Time

I am a collector of things you can cannot touch.  Words, pictures, memories.  Right now my focus is summer.  Today is day 13.  I do not know how many days remain.  Enough, I guess.  I refuse to count for fear they will disappear too quickly.

I would lie if I said that summer had nothing to do with my decision to become a teacher.  However, I could not teach if I did not like the work.  Ten months of misery would not be worth two months of freedom.  Instead, summer is the perk that makes the pay more tolerable, helps me through those days with angry parents, makes me smile when my classroom is in upheaval.  In my past work life, I discovered that time is worth more than money.

Summer is time.  Time to refuel.  Time to reflect and grow as a teacher, wife, friend, human being.  Time to do the jobs that do not pay but feed my soul.  Time to write.

Everyday I am asked by people who do not teach, “How is your summer going?”

Splendidly, I respond.  I’m actively collecting all those little moments that will get me through the inevitable challenges of the coming year:

Listened to my sister’s high school poetry night, got lost in words, some funny, some sad.

Sunflower in Fair Oaks with my husband, he rode his bike seven miles to meet me. I drove in an air conditioned car.

Veggie burrito, healthy, much tastier than it looks. While other moms took their kids for Happy Meals, mine took me here. We’d feed the chickens and play in the park. I developed a fear of roosters.

Veggie nachos, probably the winner, but don’t tell Alex.  He gloats too much when his choice is best.

Sunday dinners with family, swimming, eating, happy.

My birthday came a little early today, make that a month and a half to be exact. My sweet husband bought me a new recorder of words, which I’ll put to good use. The irony of marriage, I’d tell him not to buy it if he asked, but I’m grateful that he did. And, yes, that is the cat you see on our dining room table, maybe you should rethink coming to dinner, I’ve given up on chasing her, at least today.

Much like the dog, I’ve also lazed about. Recharging is required to be a happy teacher. Scratch that, recharging is required to be a happy human being.

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Jun 11 2012
2 Comments
Family, Home, Life, Pets, Writing

My Superhero Power: Time Manipulation

Summer makes me nostalgic.  It makes me want to slow down time so that I can savor each new memory.  If I were a superhero, that is what my power would be, time manipulation.

Driving home from my family’s house tonight, my husband and I talked about our differing perceptions of time.  For him, life moves at just the right speed, which makes me envious.  I guess you do not have to be a superhero to appreciate life properly.  Still, I’m not sure how to slow down.  It feels like there are more things I want to do than there is time to do them.

I think this is part of why I like to write so much.  It gives me the space to trap myself in time.

Tonight I want to trap myself in new summer memories.  I want to hold them to my heart so that everyone in them will be with me always.  If I could figure out a way for summer dinners to last longer, I would.  Instead, it is the words and pictures that are left.

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Jun 05 2012
10 Comments
Family, Life, Teaching

Fourth Grade Love Stories

“Mrs. M, they’re talking about liking people!” a student shouted across the room today, certain she had busted some seriously bad behavior.

What she didn’t realize is that I have a soft spot for fourth grade love stories.  No, I do not encourage ten-year-olds to have “relationships,” but I also have a hard time telling students that they shouldn’t like each other.  After all, it’s a natural part of life and who knows, maybe they really do like each other.

Of course, I’m a little biased.  My marriage is the product of a fourth grade love story.

Don’t worry, we haven’t been monogamous since fourth grade, but that is when we first met and knew we liked each other.  I will always remember how Alex cut out his last name and glued it over mine while working on a school project.  Little did he know that I wasn’t the kind of girl to let my maiden name be covered up.  However, he obviously knew something, because here we are nearly two decades later, married, (albeit with hyphenated names…).

As you can see, I also have proof that I liked him then, as is evidenced by my silly lipstick marks imparted during a fifth grade sleepover.  Even if I never told him that I liked him back, he had to know.  And, I did.  I kept thinking about him all the way into my high school years, despite the fact that we both switched schools in fifth grade and did not see each other again for a long, long time, (or at least long in kid years).

That’s the funny thing about life.  You never know who is going to stick around and who isn’t.  So, when my fourth graders disclose that they like each other, I can’t help but wonder what the future holds.  In my admittedly unusual case, my fourth grade crush became my husband and my fourth grade best friend is still one of my bests.

For now, my fourth grade love story is still a secret in my classroom, but maybe sometime I’ll let them hear it, just to watch the expressions on their faces as they wonder whether they’re sitting next to their future spouses…

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Jun 03 2012
6 Comments
Dogs, Family, Home, Life, Teaching, Travel, Writing

Anticipation Junkie

Four more days of school, then seven weeks of glorious summer.

If I haven’t made myself annoyingly clear, I’m an anticipation junkie.  Half the thrill for me is envisioning the future.  Life moves so quickly.  The real thing is over before you know it, but if you look forward to it first, it lasts longer.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

So, in an effort to stretch out my summer before it even starts, here is what I’m looking forward to most:

1. Road trip to Olympia with my teacher lady friends! (Hello Portland, dirty bars, roller derby, beautiful coastline, our special version of Flat Stanley, and a raucous good time… Sometimes I wonder if people really know what elementary school teachers are like in their off hours… I didn’t!)

The fourth/fifth grade team dressed up like Viola Swamp to scare the children, told you we’re fun 😉

2.  Kauai.  Think the complete opposite of above road trip.  Peace, quiet, sunshine, beach.

See, I already have the crucial supplies ready!

3.  Mt. Shasta, CA.  Time with my mom, sitting under the pines, swimming in the lake, snacks at the Goat Tavern, hot springs soaking in Ashland, OR.

See Mom, I am excited to come visit you!

4.  WRITING.  As much as I’m excited for all of the trips above, I might be even more excited for the time to write.  I’m ready to do my final polishing of my book (AGAIN) and submit to 31 agents in 31 days in July.  WOOT.

Only a little more work left before I can submit! No thanks to Simon…

5.  General summerness.  Time with my dog, husband, family, friends.  Impromptu road trips to Napa for yummy Ad Hoc lunch, San Francisco Giants games, the Pelican Inn and Muir Beach.  Days spent floating in my dad’s pool, lazing about at teacher pool parties, thrifting, reading and sleeping.

More time with these guys!

Okay, just one more, because he’s so stinkin’ cute.  Clearly, I’m obsessed.  Watch out when I have kids…

See, now I’m excited, and summer hasn’t even officially started.  Thank you anticipation, I don’t care what people say about the present, you’re pretty cool too.

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May 28 2012
2 Comments
Family, Home, Life Gallery

Family Sundays

I was going to save this post for Father’s Day, but then I decided it didn’t have to wait.

Growing up, my dad would wake up early every Sunday morning to make our big family breakfast.  All 7 of us.  Eggs, bagels, bacon, english muffins, orange juice.  Since most of us have grown up and left home, he went through a phase where he lamented that Sunday breakfasts just weren’t the same.

Until, at last, he shifted his attention to Sunday dinners.  Now, Sunday dinners are a marvelous affair.  He doesn’t just make food, he makes gourmet meals.  Barbecued macaroni and cheese with bacon, grass-fed burgers, free-range barbecued chicken wings, fried organic asparagus and green beans.  Turns out, my dad can really cook.

This little act of love, of cooking for all of us gathered around the outside table, means a lot to my dad.  What he probably doesn’t realize is that it means even more to us.  Of course, it’s not just the food.  It’s having all of us, (or almost all of us depending on the Sunday), back in one place.

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