Nature

It is that time of the year when our annual visit from the lady bugs start.

I don't know, its just soothing that they view us as a regular visit. It is calming, I mean really, it is not like a lady bug is intimidating.

On the side of our apartment that faces the park, it is also the side that gets the heating rays of the afternoon sun, the lady bugs swarm. Yesterday was the first noticeable day, we had about 50 in the kitchen and about 30 in the boys' room. They mostly hang by the windows, the curtains, the ceiling; but hardly ever do we find them more than 2-3 feet from the window. Of course, I also have the windows open. I expect today we'll have a couple hundred and by a week from now they are down to just 10-15.

It typically starts when the weather gets cold, but then warms up one last time in late October. And as long as I keep the windows open, we get to watch them migrate when the sun goes down; they fly back out the windows (except maybe one or two, but even these "old guys" stay near the window all night.

The boys like me to catch one for them and put it on their hands/arms. They are both gentle. It is funny though, that we've come to accept their presence and enjoy their annual visit. At least this year The Little Man isn't trying to eat them.

The boys mentioned it to the doormen and the doormen then asked if I wanted the exterminator sent up. I was shocked, why? They seem harmless and they leave at the end of the day. Given our doorman are island souls, they were totally cool with my choice, one even asked if he could come see them.

I'll try to remember to take a photo this afternoon. After yesterday, its good to look forward to an afternoon with the bugs.

What a day

I've had an interesting day. One, I really have no interest in reliving.

I had just sent the boys to school with the sitter, The groom had left for the gym, I'm in my pajamas, still in glasses (not contact lenses), when the sitter calls me crying. She is laying on the ground and has been hit by a car, the kids are fine, she's in pain. I tell her to start screaming at people to call 911, and I run out the door, down the street, in my pajamas.

She was only a couple blocks from our house and a block from school. Which means, people know us. People were with her, the police were there, the ambulance was pulling up, the nanny mafia had my children a safe distance away. She was clearly in shock, and worse, intimidated and afraid of people in authority, left unable to talk.

I'm an aggressive soul, I usually have no problem telling people what to do and taking charge, but when it comes to police, they really don't want a woman in her pajamas with bad breath, who is panting from running, telling them what to do. But yeah, we marched forward and they let me ride in the ambulance even though I wasn't "family" (really we are, it's just not by blood, and boy do I understand that).

The nanny network got the kids to school. This is something us city souls come to rely on, but the nanny network is faster than twitter. Many believe there is an invisible bond between souls (a red thread), but the nanny network, it is not invisible, you need not be family, it is just there. And I've come to trust it and thank its existence more times then countable.

Thank god at the ER we got a young female Latino doctor. I think an aggressive man poking and prodding would have put her in a coma (note - my sitter is Muslin, so I thank Allah it was a woman helping her undress). Who knows what kind of rage that would have brought out in me. But the little Latino, with hoop earrings, a head band, and half my age was what we both needed.

Tonight, I'm glad it all worked out. I'm glad she is fine - no broken bones, just bruises and more bruises likely to come in the next few days. The boys are fine, they tipped over, they were the talk of preschool and want to talk about it tonight. But they are fine.

And oddly, another opportunity for me to examine the definition of love and family. blood/genetics just doesn't count.

Real Life

Today a girlfriend called and asked if we could meet tonight. Of course, I said yes. It was great to see her, but I knew she needed to talk about something. It took awhile for the issue to present itself, but guess what, it wasn't anything that I hadn't grappled with myself. But it reminded me, we are more powerful as a collective than as an individual.

I had had a "bad" day today. Just bummed about stupid stuff, nothing important, and have a girlfriend over was the catalyst to getting me to finally take a shower today at 5 pm. Yes, I know that is a bit sad, but it was rainy and cold today, and I was down about not having a Norman sell after having the best week ever last week.

I also don't mean to trivialize her concerns. They are/were real, and an important part of her life at the moment. The provided the opportunity for me to pull myself out of my own pile of insecurities. And sorry that she was used in such a way. But grateful to be used as a sounding board.

None of us walk the planet in isolation. And I think we forget it a lot. Every magazine cover, article, news reel tells us how we should be better in 20 different ways. But, every issue I've ever faced, if I talked to enough people about it I eventually found someone who had been there and could tell me, "You too will survive." It is really amazing to me how consumed I can get about my own world, but then have the startling realization that I am not the first to blaze down a path. Not the first to feel like their world is collapsing, or even not as bad, the first to feel like things are just off balance enough to not feel any level of comfort.

I listened to my girlfriend. And I am an ok listener. I'm not great. I always have trouble not offering my opinion or sharing a story of when I was in a somewhat similar circumstance. But the one thing I know, is the feelings she shared are real. I don't have to lie. Her feelings are real. And maybe that was all she needed to know.

I'm so blessed to have people in my life that will listen. I'm even more blessed to have people that need to be listened to, as they bring up the issues I may have missed.

Tonight, I just want to tell everyone to talk more. Be honest about your feelings, and I promise, even though you may have to tell more than two people, you are unlikely to be alone. If all else fails, tell me. I'm here. I try my best to be a good listener, even though I know I could be better.

Shift in Perspective

As I sat in the pizza parlor at 2:30 this afternoon having a slice, singing along to an old Donna Summers song, I thought, "Who are these other people? Do they also work from home, creating silly worlds and marketing their products? Do they have ambitions to change the world? Are they making it happen, or are they just starting out like me?

Then I realized that a year ago I would have thought, "Don't these people have jobs? Why are they here at 2:30 in the afternoon?"

It is all just a huge shift in my reality.

Cooking under the Influence

This amazingly is a double entendre. Cooking while or after drinking, cooking inspired by the cries of whinny children.

Today the boys had a play date at a friends and the nanny of the friend would not let them eat a piece of a "beautiful" Halloween cake on the counter. As my sitter told me, "it had too much S-U-G-A" in it. Yes, my sitter only has a fourth grade vocabulary, but I work through her spellings - She is awesome with the kids and I trust her instinct if not her vocabulary.

So, anyways, the boys wanted to make a cake. This went fine, except they insisted on making a Halloween-pumpkin cake to show the nanny. We have no pumpkin shaped-tin. We have no pumpkin on hand. But I can make a yellow cake with lots of extra food coloring, I can make chocolate frosting, and yes, I still have little pumpkin sprinkles left from last year. So on with a not so pumpkin, pumpkin cake. All is well.

We make the cake. We get it in the oven. We get it out. We head to bath time.

Here's the problem. Daddy comes home while boys are in bath and surprises me with a martini. Of course, I don't wont to offend and drink it!

But what happens next. The sloped tier of the cake somehow ends up on the bottom of the layers. The frosting on top is uneven. The sprinkles, well the are adequately sprinkled on the cake, the counter top, the floor.

Does it taste good. Yes!
Do we have something to show off to the Nanny? Yes!
Do I care that there are sprinkles on the floor? No!

age check

So today I'm buying a few items at the grocery. As the gal rings up the stuff I say smiling, "Look I remembered by reusable bag today!"
She says, "Yeah, my mom forgets hers all the time too."
No longer smiling.

My dirty little cooking secret.

Just like every other mother on the planet that has walked through a grocery store, I see the headlines. We are a fat nation. We are a fat nation getting fatter. And I think, “not on my watch, not my family!” I know a polyester-saturated fat is a no-no (along with polyester wearing in general). I've read up on grass-feed vs. grain-feed animals. I want to be human to our four legged friends. I don’t need any more corn in our diet than that we can bite off a cob.

I am convinced I can to feed my family "healthy" food, in portions that wouldn't stuff an elephant. Believing that if I keep the changes subtle and don’t actually tell them of the mission I’ve accepted, it might work! However, once in the trenches, it is harder than I expected. With two toddlers and a husband that believes every meal should be worthy of a Michelin star, there are a few restrictions on what my family will actually eat.

Basically nothing green should be on their plate. Thinking I might be able to desensitize the boys, I started with food coloring. I explained that there is kitchen magic, showed them the bottles, and we ate rainbow-colored eggs for breakfast for a week (yes, inspired by 'green' eggs and ham). However, it turns out my boys have a great instinct about when it is food coloring and when it could actually be an item that is intrinsically green. Instead of not sounding an alarm when a green “thing” is on their plate, I ended up staining our dish towels, which really makes me wonder how healthy is the food coloring?

I pureed vegetables so there would be no chance of, "mommy, pick it out." But that too failed, leading to all my food presentations becoming suspect for a time. And, I think we are all happy not to have a baby food for dinner.

The general idea of ‘whole grain’ is lost on my family. The boys don’t like seeds or nuts in their food. Picking off sesame seeds of a bun tries my patience. And after telling the sunflower seeds were mouse turds –in a moment of mommy insanity where I thought it might appeal to their gross side– they won’t touch them. Let alone show any interest in bread that "looks dirty".

But these comments, this ridiculous snobbery, it doesn't faze me. I march on. I'm on a mission to make us all healthier as long as I'm still the meal planner, the grocery shopper, lead provider of food for this household. I bought smaller plates to make the portions look bigger. This worked; no one noticed. YEAH! I've included the boys in the cooking so they'll have greater interest in tasting their creations. This kind of worked; at least they are touching vegetables.

Then I discovered vegetarian cooking.

If you want to find great ways to spice up veggies, then vegetarian cookbooks it is! This is not your Betty Crocker overly sauteed limp no longer white cauliflower. This is Indian spices, amazing flavors that jump on the tongue and slow cooked veggie soups that scent the air. This is meatless meatballs, meatloaf and hamburgers that are actually tasty if you slather on BBQ sauce to hide evidence of vegetable involvement.

Now having moved into vegetarian cookbooks for 'healthier' choices and not to actually become a vegetarian... I found... on a dark cold night when I wanted to use up left over chicken fingers in the fridge... and after a glass of wine because I needed it… if you want really great tasting healthy meals... this is so ghoulish, but it even kept my husband from complaining... go ahead, add the meat.

I may be sinning against the great vegetarian cookbook rules, I may be banned from all vegetarians outlets from here hence forward, but I tell you, add the meat. The kids loved the new flavors. My husband was surprised at having new tasty choices on the table. And I just didn’t think it was respectful to let all the shrimp, chicken and ground beef in the freezer go to waste.

Poopie

Today the Little Man walked in my office from playing quietly with the train track in the other room and announced happily, "I have poopie."
So I said, "Wow, Where did it come from?"
He said, "My bottom."

So much for the anatomy lessons.

Update, in brief, on everything

Foot - I went to the gym with my ankle wrapped yesterday. It was good to go, I ache all over, and no, I did not jump. It was oddly unsatisfying to not be able to give it my all, but I don't want to go back to crutches.

Preschool - Both boys are going and seem to love it, except at that one moment when who ever is dropping them off tries to leave. I like their teachers and have volunteered to do Halloween cookies in both classes.

Little Man therapy - I met with the judge yesterday. Besides being a handsome guy, he was generous. So now I'm off to the agency to get speech, physical and vocational therapy going! Yeah!

Big Boy - He has suddenly become interested in all things athletic. He has a skate board, wants a scooter, is dribbling a basket ball, has gone hiking with friends and loves it all. Mind you he also recently went to two wheels on his bike. Yeah, I have helmets, pads and band aides of every shape and size around the house.

Norman - He is moving! I'm down to my last 6 boxes at the house, but there is a half container heading this way from China. I was on ABC World News Now, and Fox Business Network. Go to www.PhartEphant.com to see clips. They actually are funny to me! Retail locations also listed on the site; we are now in over 20 stores in the US and Canada.

Book - Don't get too excited, I'm self-publishing, but it is going great. I signed off on the picture book with the printers today. I'm not happy with the coloring book, but I think I know how to fix it, so hopefully we'll do final sign off on that next week. I've ordered clear bags that can become a gift bag option for the retailers which will include a Norman, a book (picture or coloring) and crayons. I hope to have this ready for my next trade show November 5th! Amazingly, book #2 illustration work has begun.

New characters - two of Norman's friends have gone into prototype stage. Drawings are done and the factory is starting patterns. Goal to have prototypes locked down for the Toy Fair Trade Show in February.

My Writing - clearly got shelved for a bit. But I'm starting to get ideas again and look forward to exploring some silly topics soon. I think not exercising and all the work, work, got me off. But I hope to write more.

Yes, I'm alive

So to those of you who send emails, yes I'm alive. It turns out doing four trade shows in six weeks as well as starting preschool, potentially three tv interviews that turned into one, one rescheduled for this Wednesday at 5:45 pm (Fox Business Channel, the "Happy Hour") and one still waiting to reschedule was a lot.

So today's great news - I got my first wholesaler order from a shop that called and said, "I had someone come into my store ask for your product, so I looked it up, liked it and I'd like to order." From a store in CANADA!!

Today's real life - This morning the Big Boy went poop in the toilet so the Little Man decided he should too, but in his little potty. The Little Man did a poopie, and called us to look at it. While we were saying "good bye poopie", he peed on the floor beside the toilet. I picked him up and put him in the tub. But while I was cleaning the pee, he managed to poop again in the tub. Really!! Just another day of being mom. So when all was clean I returned to the kitchen table to eat my cold omelette and no longer steaming tea.

I'll write more but bottom line, I'm so busy I haven't been writing, but I have been busy with work and shipping Normans.

By the way the first Norman PhartEphant story is now fully illustrated, completed by a book designer and at the printers.

no more training wheels

Yes, it is the end of summer, and Yes, I had been meaning to get to this quite a bit sooner, but we got out in the evening and finally made a go without training wheels.

There are very few moments in life when I feel breathless. Where I just stand with my mouth open watching. Stunned. Amazed. But not in a fearful way; unfortunately had a few of those. I've had two this summer.

The first was in July. I was standing in a stream in a field in Provence, France in a photo workshop waiting for wild horses to run by. They did. It was breath taking. Just to see fluidity in motion, muscle in action and a scene/situation I had never previously encountered. Photos ensued.

The Second, just the other night, watching my eldest leave my arms and pedal, pedal, pedal. It was motion, a bit herky-jerky motion, but it was beautiful. He didn't stop, he kept going until I had to breath again. Even the Little Man sat in a stunned silence to see the Big Boy go. He was prepped. We had watched a Frankly episode where he took off his training wheels. He was prepared. He was wearing knee pads, elbow pads and his helmet. He was in the zone. On the walk out we discussed that he already knew how to ride a bike. He's been riding with training wheels for a year. The only thing that would be new was starting and stopping. Then in an instant it happened, he became a rider. When I pushed him off, he pedaled. Really it was magical.

The bike is a bit too big for him so he needs help starting, but he's already learned to slow the bike, kick his leg over and jump off. Amazing. It might be a bite crude to compare my child to a group of wild animals, but there is a similarity of entering the unknown, lacking expectations, and being amazed by the result before your eyes. But the difference, I'm so proud of him. He is proud of himself, but I too am proud of him. I know he was a bit scared. He wanted the pads. But he took the challenge and met it. Just the coolest thing in the world to watch.

Bird Feeder Update

I can’t say how much I’ve come to love the bird feeder in our kitchen window. While I thought it would be fun and educational, I’m shocked at how often I find myself wandering into the kitchen just to check out the action (this has not helped my waste line).

The birds that know about are feeder are generally pretty friendly and there are clearly many birds we are feeding at this point . They have become accustomed to our presence. As long as we don’t tap on the glass of the window, they are quite willing to hang out with us in the kitchen. Oddly, I believe they sense when we have company over and are a bit quicker to fly away from our guests.

After a day of rain, which meant very few bird visits, I reached out to fill the feeder, and the birds were hover close while my hand was still out the window. Now if the feeder goes empty, they tend to polish it off in one day, they sit in the window and demand food rather loudly. We are now going through a 5 lb bag of food every other week!

Finally one bird, well at least one to our knowledge, had the courage to explore our apartment. Unfortunately it chose its daring escapade when my husband was in charge. My lovely groom takes it as a bit of a personal affront that the bird entered the kitchen. But as my older son explains, they just kept waving their arms until the bird figured out it was a “good idea” to turn and leave. This incident started the adult request that I keep the window above the feeder closed if I’m going to keep feeding them.

But it was the beginning of a new new debate has shaped among the adults in the household on whether we should be feeding these "flying rats". I was winning until the pigeons found us; then yes, I conceded to bring it down as a lot, and I do mean a lot, of "poopy" was suddenly mounting on the window seal.

However, I don't want to wast the food, so when the lovely groom is out, and I want lunch time company, I put the feeder out, eat a sandwich in the kitchen and chat with the birds. I'm sure he'll not figure out my folly as I keep the bird feeder hidden with the cleaning supplies. The boys, they are back to making piles of food on the side walk and then counting as the customers fly in.

Mosquito Stink

Last night, as I lay in bed, in a mosquito stink, I think "this can not possible work". With my all natural insect repellent on I am in a citrus fog. I smell of a perfectly ripe orange cut in two and dripping off the side of the plate. How in the world is this supposed to repel anything but my husband?

I am a pin cushion of exquisite content, filled with the blood that is a fine delicacy to all blood seeking creatures of the dawn, twilight and night. I am a find that these winged creatures of the dig into over and over. The boys are protected by some unlabeled stuff recommended to me that I smuggled over from China. It comes in a bottle that I plug into the electric socket and leave on all the time. It has no smell. The mosquitoes leave them alone. I have no idea what it is. I have no idea how to get more. So I ration it to only the boys' room as they really need protection.

Yes, I recognize I should have invested in screen windows before the economy tanked and I lost my job. But I kept thinking, I'll get it done before Spring, which of course didn't happen. Now I believe the only way to keep the blood suckers away is to seal all entrances and keep the air conditioning on at all times. The other option, no exposed skin. Which is why you’ll find me under the covers with socks and occasionally a hat.

A few years ago I became allergic to one of the ingredients in your standard deet containing insect repellent. During the day I may still use the deet, but only spraying on my clothes not my body. If you watch the "travel sized" bins, you will still find the 1 ounce sized 98.5% deet. LOVE IT! The smell is one of “I am chemicals that can kill you!” However, for nighttime/bedtime I don’t feel great about making my groom, who has occasional asthma, inhale my deet containing fragrance, so I switched to the natural stuff. Also I have less hives with the natural stuff. However, when I smell like a ripe potted plant, about to bear fruit, it is hard to believe I’m repelling the invaders of the night.

The worst are the little guys that go for your nose. The hover, tickling you until they evoke a sneeze. Which of course is preceded by a great inhalation. Before you sneeze there is a great intake of air when the little speared warrior could be inhaled deeply to places you’d rather not itch. Hopefully the expel, the sneeze, is forceful enough to dislodge any attachment before damage is induced.

I also hate the kill these blood thirsty savages while they are drinking. While there is satisfaction in a solid slap that produces a pancaked insect, the sight of my own blood (I hope) lets me know the swelling should still be anticipated.

So as I laid in my stink, I vowed when work picks up I will invest in the screen windows because there are glorious nights in the 60s when the breeze is so gentle as to allow the invaders to fly, but so nice as to create a crime if the air conditioning were to be used.

In an air cast

I don't write about everything the exact day it happens, as I know my parents are active readers of the blog. So, mom, go have a glass of wine and then come back and read the rest of this.

We went to the "county" on Friday to a friends house that had a pool. If I want the boys to jump on board with the idea I only have to say two things, going to "another city" where there is a "pool". I don't mention the bugs or lack of TV. It was a nice little get away and although we arrived with the rain, the boys went in the pool anyway.

We were done with dinner, my personal favorite of buns and burgers on the grill and it was time to head to the guest house when I took a turn for the worst. Literally, while holding the Little Man in my arms I stepped off the porch not realizing it and twisted my ankle and fell like a sack of potatoes. Good news, the porch was only 4-5 inches taller than the grass, and when I fell the Little Man was fine, but we both heard the gun shot which was the tendons in my ankle stretching for all their worth.

Ok, I'm in pain. I start to cry. Then the Little Man starts to cry. I try to tell him to go get Daddy, but now he is hysterical and won't leave me. I shout out to the Hubby, who looks out the window asks what I want and doesn't come out. I start to shout for our host. He yells back saying "where are you?" We were just in that moment when it turns dark, the porch light was out and I was out of view. "I'm on the ground by the porch and I'm not getting up. Go get my hubby so he can take the Little Man!" Finally action.

With the guys on the move, Little Man finally off my lap which happened to be on top of my ankle, I pulled myself over to the big bucket that had the juice boxes and beer and sunk my foot in. When I stopped crying, pulled myself together, I realized with my foot in a bucket of ice that long I should be feeling pain but I wasn't. Not a good sign. I reached down to find massive swelling and bumbs were I had none. Yes, my turn to visit the emergency room.

The emergency room was empty, they had me fill out one form and then took me straight to XRay. My host said he'd stay with me as he's already had a vasectomy, which was far more information, unnecessary information, than I needed. The doctor came by and prognosed it as a really bad sprain, no broken bones, but he was giving me an air cast and crutches. Estimated I wouldn't be walking for a few days, that I should "try to keep off my feet and the foot elevated" and produced a few Percocet for the night and a prescription for the morning.

Two and a half days later, I can put weight on the foot. But I haven't left the apartment. I'm feeling confident I will be well soon. I also know that two cocktails and a Tylenol are better at pain relief than a percocet. The boys believe the crutches are a great weapon to 'fight bad guys'.

Recessionarly Toes

When the economy hit my personal check book, there were a variety of items that disappeared from my life. Most with no great concern or notice. I stopped buying clothes and started enjoying digging to the bottom of the t-shirt drawer or the back of the closet to see what I might find. I gave up the fancy coffee drinks and fancy coffee places and rebuilt my relationship with the deli guy.

As summer rolled in, it became time for my bi-annual pedicure. Clearly, I'm not a 'girly-girl' or this would occur much more often than once (ok, maybe twice) through the summer and then again in the winter for the holiday party season. But, I thought, why not? I used to paint my toenails when I was a 12 years old, so what is stopping me from doing it now?

Well, paining your toe nails is not like riding your bike...it is a skill you lose over time! Confounding the matter, my preferences have also evolved. I like have the cuticles pushed back and the dead skin removed. I love the hot water soak followed by the foot message. I like sitting back and knowing the job will look great. My self-painted nails are a work out and they look good a couple showers post painting.

When I choose to do my own nails, I didn't realize:

• I'm not as flexible as I was when I was 10 years old. And I'm heavier, not fat, just slightly rounder. Combine those two new elements and critical self-examination of my toes became an activity to inspire sweat.
• Messaging your own feet is good, but not nearly as satisfying as when someone else does it.
• All fingernail polish is not alike. Some are thick and chunky (not a good sign) and others go on smooth. But as a novice in the beauty isle, it is hard to discern the difference from packaging alone.
• If you manage to pain more than the nail, like the supportive toe supplying the nail, the extra paint (or wasted paint) will wash off in about three showers, allowing your work to improve in appearance over time.
• If you are just sitting around waiting for your toes to dry, someone will knock on the door, the kids will have boo-boos that need kissing and the cat will become oddly affectionate.
• The kids that have never seen this process will find you more interesting then Sponge Bob and you'll have to let them in on the action (see above comment about stray paint).
• The children will run around the neighborhood sharing their version of the "I painted mommy's toe nail story".
• You will wonder if it is necessary to wear toe revealing sandals and investigate the alternatives.

But all is not lost. After trying a very thick yellow color that I managed to track through the house in a mysterious way for one who sat on the couch for the requisite 30 minutes, I discovered that I like having "peach" toes. I've discovered some old thin summer tennis shoes in my closet, and I've come to peace with just keeping the nails trim. But as the holiday season approaches, I don't think peach is going to work.