Ridiculous amounts of excitement surround bowling...especially when you have on such a killer ensemble. Thanks Aunt Judy, Amy and Wendy!

Christmas 2010

Viv,
You are teaching me to be still.
Thanks sweet baby.
Mom

Going Postal

Service with a smile is usually a rarity these days, particularly around the holidays. Eye contact, even a general look in my direction warms my soul as I bag my own groceries at the local Jewel. The post office, of all places, seems to remain the exception. This past week, I had the pleasure of visiting the US Post Office not once, but twice. I watched as the friendly men and women in blue inquired about every last detail of the upcoming holiday season with each octogenarian in line. And there must have been a special for the eighty and up crowd this week. Seriously. I overheard a discussion surrounding the merits of pineapple upside down cake that lasted nearly ten minutes. I would normally applaud such efforts because this type of exchange is what our society is so sorely lacking. But this was sinister. The line was snaking out the door and customers were dropping from heat and exhaustion. The layers upon layers of outwear stoking the fires of impatience. I swear I saw evil smirks of triumph on every mail clerks face. The post office feeds on anger. And oh were they well fed this week.

Jealous?

Don't you love our new stockings? Wish you could have ones just like these? You can...if you happen to have an amazingly talented cousin that can knit you some. Booyah! Don't we luck out?

May I introduce you to Sneezy and Stuffy (note a ring of mucous around their noses)?
Their parents, Sleepy and Stressy refused to be photographed. Where is that old witch and that magic apple when you need her?

32 Years Later

Tummy Time!

What's Up Doc?

Why am I so entirely exhausted? It certainly cannot be normal! After a check up with the doctor and a round of thorough blood tests, we determined that it's not Lupus, not an under-active thyroid and not anemia. It is certainly not due to pregnancy (sorry grandparents). Now what in the world could it be? Any ideas?

Candy Cane Lane

There are some memories from my childhood that I can't wait to resurrect. In fact, reliving some of these fond memories is one of the great perks of having kids. It is our right and duty as parents to make sure that they too enjoy week nights filled with tuna casserole and summers away at Camp Chippewa Bay. Tonight, as the cold winds blew, hot chocolate and bags of popcorn in hand, we drove to what was once known as Candy Cane Lane in Westchester. A subdivision of lawns where illuminated, plastic manger scenes, mechanical Santa-copters and grazing deer all had a place...and usually in one yard. Back in the 80s, Boeger Drive would be a parking lot as car after car would gawk at each home's representation of the season in lights. It was a regular homage to Com Ed. Today as we pulled in, I wasn't quite sure if we were in the right place. My heart sunk as I realized most homes on the block had embraced the "less is more" approach to the holidays. Where were the pink tinseled trees? Where was the life size Mr and Mrs. Claus? Where in the hell was the Santa-copter? But just as I was about to deflate completely, I hear repeated "wows" from the back seat. I realized that maybe this was Candy Cane Lane after all. Maybe I was looking at it with the eyes of an adult. And with each passing "wow", I was further transported to the back seat of my father's Volkswagen and the magic was revived. Thanks E.

Oreos and the Messiah...In one day no less!

After a visit with Santa, cookies with our friend George and an afternoon nap we decided to battle the elements in search of the baby Jesus. Since Thanksgiving, Ella talks about him almost daily. Plans were on then off (as the weather worsened) and then on again as we drove past First Baptist Church on Oak Park Avenue. A parking spot happened to open up right in front. Divine intervention anyone? With live camels, donkeys and a full cast of wise men rock star parking was nothing short of a Christmas miracle. Jerry and Vivian stayed in the car as Ella and I huddled under the large golf umbrella dodging freezing rain drops and King Herod's camel's excrement (say that five times fast). We stared in amazement as the story of Jesus's birth unfolded before our eyes. We finally arrived at the manger. It was a beautiful scene with a mixed race Mary and Joseph (epitomizes why I love Oak Park) and a live baby Jesus. Ella was speechless. Afterwards, in honor of the night's theme, we dined on hummus, baba ganoush and kabobs. Happy Birthday Baby Jesus!

Sarah: Ella, why do people love Jesus so much?
Ella: Because he loves them.
Sarah: Where was Jesus born?
Ella: In the "major"

We are so lucky to have the one and only Santa Claus make an appearance at the River Forest Library each year. No lines, no whining and no "wanna-be Santas" with criminal records fiending for the next cigarette break at the local mall. Ella had been practicing for days. "Yes", she's been good and "yes" she would like a princess for Chrismtas. She prepared a short list on Vivian's behalf ("banas" aka bananas). She'd even practiced a hearty "ho, ho, ho". Both she and Vivian readily assumed position on Santa's lap. I truly believe her expression in the photos is only an indication of the awe and amazement she felt being in the presence of such magic. Her look oozes "awe and amazement" does it not?

Ella had her first visit with the dentist today. Turns out we were two years late to the party. The American Pediatric Dental Association is recommending babies getting to know their dentist just after their first tooth erupts. Luckily, all was well. The patient was all smiles throughout the visit. She readily cooperated as Dr. Crawford assessed her bite and took a look at the general health of her teeth. She even allowed a few scary looking instruments in her mouth. At the conclusion of our appointment I was warned about the likelihood of braces due to crowding. Ella's such a lucky kid...I always wanted braces. All the cool girls had braces. After a sift through the treasure box Ella practically skipped to the car. She knew that I had to deliver on a promise of rainbow ice cream. Because where else would a concerned and enlightened parent take their child after a first visit with the dentist? Apples were out of the question.

We used to sit by the pool, read Elle magazine and worry about uneven tan lines. We ate Ben and Jerry's from the carton, threw water balloons and laughed until we cried. We wore skinny jeans together (the first time around) and ran laps in Mrs. Steven's gym class. You knew me before I was "Ella's/Viv's Mom". At times, you know me better than I know myself. Our conversations today are a far cry from the leisurely conversations that would linger into the summer evenings on college break. Words going nowhere and everywhere all at once. Full sentences...finished thoughts are now frivolity. We are left with the Cliff Notes of conversations past. But I get you. You get me. Some day, I promise, we will begin where we left off (was it July, 2005?). Today, as we were signing off and wishing each other luck as another battle...er...work week begins...I hear you exclaim, in all seriousness to your son:
"That is a lamp, not a hat!"
...and I realized that although parenthood may certainly compromise the quantity of conversations we have, the quality has been left untouched. You crack me up.
Thanks Mand.

If you don"t count the amount of carrot "noses" we happened to devour during construction or the fact that she offered to watch Daddy build the snowman from inside...I'd say it was a success!

Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes

Check Out the Kicks

Giving Thanks for Our Clown

Me: Ella, Thanksgiving is a day when we give thanks for all of the wonderful things in our lives. We give thanks for our family and friends, the sun, the trees, our food...
Ella: And clowns and oranges?
Me: ....yep, those too.

Much anxiety leading up to Thanksgiving this year as my mom decided to skip town. Smart woman. She left us and a slew of Johnsons to fend for ourselves as she enjoys a quiet holiday with my brother and his girlfriend in Denver. Mom, her chocolate pecan pie and her free-range turkey are taking a well deserved breather this year.
This was our first official stab at a turkey (not sure if I should count that Boone's soaked Thanksgiving in college). A turkey, Jerry's mashed sweet potatoes, stuffing and cranberries were a must. I knew we could easily navigate our way through the sides...but a turkey? The turkey is the main event and the Thanksgiving feast is only THE most important meal of the entire year. 364 days of waiting for this grand bird (cuz who eats turkey any other time?). Call it beginners luck, but we rocked that turkey. Bret Michaels would have been jealous. It was flavorful, juicy and shellacked to perfection. Ella only stated that she "didn't like it" once; which in our book is an unequivocal win. Served on Mom's Wedgwood china, over twenty four hours of careful preparation to be eaten in ten minutes. Such is life with a toddler and infant.
The tradition of Thanksgiving pancit, dinuguan and ensaymada lived on at Tita Cora and Tito Joe's home later that evening. Relatives and friends from far and wide feasted on a Filipino buffet fit for a Marcos. Once the plates were cleared, circulars littered the tables and excited chatter commenced as the bold and fearless strategized for Black Friday. Kids whipped themselves into a frenzy as their parents shuffled back up to the buffet. I was like a bird that ate too much rice, stomach ready to explode. Like a glutton for punishment, I kept making my way back for more egg rolls and siew bao. The long ride home from Plainfield is the perfect digestif. And it's that ride from Plainfield to Oak Park late on Thanksgiving night that rings in the start of the holiday season for me. We allowed ourselves to tune in to Delilah on "Chicago's Home for the Holidays", FM 93.9. Listening to her syrupy soft voice is just as much Christmas as Bing Crosby.
As I get older, I am starting to realize the importance of creating and preserving traditions. And our holidays are steeped in tradition. From Thanksgiving morning with the Rockettes and cinnamon rolls to Jerry's uncles happily watching their family's commotion through the bottom of a whiskey tumbler. These are the snapshots of our Thanksgiving. Foods and events that have been brought together by two great families that are uniquely ours. And for that I am so grateful. Happy, happy thanksgiving.

Total Loss of Control

Vivian looks stunned by the absurdity whereas Ella has adapted to our "norm" over the years. It's a means of survival Vivian...learn from your big sis.

Found: A Cast Aside "To Do" List

Who is this woman and why can't I have her life? She actually needs to write a "to do" list that includes hair, working out and shopping? As if it's some tedious task! I want to meet this woman and simultaneously bask in the aura of her wonderful life while ferociously slapping her. I would hate to break a nail though...a manicure hasn't made my "to do" list in months.

Trumped by Technology

My brother-in-law is an early adapter. He's the first to know of the latest technological craze and usually has five on back order. I would unfortunately classify myself as a reluctant adapter. When it comes to technology, I am thirty-four going on eighty. I thought cell phones were unnecessary, an intrusion and a nuisance. I held on to a hand-me-down bag phone convinced I wouldn't need an upgrade until I got tennis elbow just trying to lift the thing. I prefer pen and paper over the computer. Paper-less credit card statements...scary. Figuring out the DVD player requires patience that I do not possess. And texting was for those who were uncomfortable with human contact. Until recently. Until I had two. Now I embrace the technological advances that have been bestowed on our generation. How naive I was to turn my back on texting. Semi-live conversations with friends minus the Ella and Viv soundtrack in the background? Being able to communicate without waking the baby? Never wake the baby! And what did our parents do without Tivo? Live television is for suckers. Commercials waste precious viewing time! I was talking to another parent this weekend at Ella's gymnastics practice. He recalls afternoons of soap operas and Phil Donahue. How did we survive? How did our parents make it through one stinkin day without Dora on stand-by? What's next? Will I eat my words about a Seqway?

What parent can't resist putting over sized sunglasses on their kid and taking a picture? It's that same parent who thinks nothing of tossing their kids in a pile of forest preserve leaves just asking for ring worm and Lyme disease...now smile for the camera! Look like life's a ball!

Veteran's Day 2010

Q & A

Why didn't I pay better attention in school? While I was busy passing notebooks in class and worrying if Darren Schumacher was still infatuated with me I could have been learning stuff. Important stuff. Stuff that my almost three year old daughter is stumping me on daily. She wants to know how the leaves turn color and why some trees are bare and others are not. She wants to know how long it takes to get to the moon in a rocket "chip". All I can say is that I haven't been. She wants to know why the moon makes different shapes and what it's made of...cheese right? It's a barrage of questions daily and her daycare isn't helping. They studied a praying mantis today and I'm bracing myself for the fallout of questions. What the hell do I know about praying mantises (is that even a word???)? Each day is a pop quiz with this kid...and I ain't earning any gold stars. I'm sorry Mrs. Olson, and all of my science and math teachers; my failure is not a reflection on your teaching abilities. Now off to invest in a set of encyclopedias.

She's Hit the Sauce

Hot chocolate with the parental units.

The Greatest Show on Earth

The circus was in town. Jerry and his cousin tried to convince me to go as the bearded lady but I settled on ring master...hey, I can at least pretend I have some control over this three ring adventure, can't I? Ella agreed to a compromise earlier in the week. She was officially our "princess clown" versus plain old clown. Note the difference? The lion didn't put up much of an argument. In fact, she was as docile as a kitten and slept most of the afternoon while the princess clown and strong man set to work. Jerry and I decided that next Halloween we will prep our daughters with candy flash cards before pounding the pavement. Ella needs to develop better wrapper recognition before she puts just anything in her pumpkin. Smarties, Almond Joys, Sweettarts = undesirable. Reeses, M & Ms, Butterfingers and Heath = major score. Dum dums = a kind but firm refusal. The candy has been counted and sorted...a step that must be innate to any trick or treater. Jer and I have at least one month's worth of bribery on our kitchen counter. Gotta love Halloween.

Scarred for Life

Thankfully none of the kids came down with ring worm after making them roll around in the leaves for pictures. Louie suffered only mild abrasions after getting stuck in the tree's branches following a game of "Toss the Baby". Scott, you've got a good arm! By the way, how cute is the hand holding? 100% unposed! My brother and I would have been walloping each other with wiffle ball bats at this age.

Mornings at the Biags

The predawn hours seem to be filled with much activity in the Biag household. After waking up with Vivian twice during the night, the day officially gets kicked off soon after 6 a.m. Showers commence, brushing teeth begins (with both a yellow and pink toothbrush) and intense negotiations ensue ("But I don't want to wear XYZ"). Jerry and I are still working through the morning's choreography. He gets teeth, I get hair, I get breast pump, he packs the car. I really think we could take our routine on "Dancing with the Stars"; we'd kick ass. By the time we get in the car and pull away to our respective destinations (train, daycare, the Public Aid office), we find ourselves panting in disbelief...did we actually accomplish all of that in under one hour? A brief moment of pride is soon followed by a realization that it is only Tuesday and Jerry's off to Houston for the remainder of the weak. Double doo doo.

Classifieds

According to an old African proverb, it takes a village to raise a child. And at first glance, the Village of Oak Park could easily fit the bill. We love the proximity to the city, the many transportation options, OP's pride in it's diversity, not to mention the farmer's market donuts. But Jerry and I don't just want a village, we want friends. Local friends. We are like Jennifer Aniston nearing Valentine's Day; the desperation must be palpable. We are constantly trolling for potential buddies but are coming up short.
"They have a dog" (automatic disqualifier given Jerry's allergies).
"They have grey hair"
"They seemed too eager" (Actual disqualifier recently used with a perfectly nice couple we met at the farmer's market...we discounted them as possible evangelists...no kidding. And yes, although we too are desperate for friendship, it doesn't come off that way. We play hard to get. There is a real difference).
So Jerry and I are officially posting an opening for friendship in the Oak Park area. Our objective is to find a normal couple with children that live within a three block radius. To help narrow down the candidates, as I'm sure we will be inundated, we've created the "FIVE PILLARS OF FRIENDSHIP" as seen below.
1. Intensity: This couple must take parenting seriously but not act as they do. They must allow for the right amount of dirt consumption and dangerous play. They are a candidate that would not microwave a Styrofoam take out container but would live by the "Ten Second Rule".
2. Interests: Candidate couples must be a source of inspiration. They must engage in extracurriculars that do not involve Huggies or sippy cups. Understandably, parenthood is a primary role in our lives right now...but bring us something other than one dimension. We want to hear about your trumpet lessons or your obsession with the Kardashian family...motivate us. The perfect candidates would be well versed in both ESPN and PBS.
3. Food and Drink: The right candidates have at least a working knowledge of foods like quinoa or confit. We don't want to hire a baby sitter to go out with friends that order like our toddler. Chicken fingers are a definite disqualifier.
4. Politics: If we like and respect you, we may be willing to listen to a differing view point. Otherwise, this is an obvious deal breaker.
5. Appearance: We've never been able to pull off the disheveled mommy/homeless man look. We don't feel bad about it...most people can't. Our prospective friends must be one standard deviation above the guy that panhandles off of Harlem Avenue exit. It's not vanity...just a sign that you haven't allowed your children to completely hijack your life.

Resumes will be accepted starting November 1st. Best of luck to all of the prospective candidates.

The Latest

Operation "Confused As Ever" has commenced as I finish my latest reads in what feels like an abyss of publications offering parenting advice. However, "The Blessing of a Skinned Knee" by Mogel and "Nurtureshock" by Bronson are books that I want to heartily endorse...at least until the next wave of parenting trends hits my local Borders. Both posit that parents today should praise less, allow for low-quality time, disappoint their kids with mediocrity and strive for being "good enough"...then hang around with said child and wait to see what develops. What a paradox...doing nothing and our lives become richer? Sounds good, no? To most this would be liberating; a welcomed invitation to tone down the uber-parent tendencies. For me it is a one-way ticket on the crazy train. Now I have to think about doing nothing? Find time in our busy schedule for emptiness while encouraging insignificance? This a total brainscrew (I so badly want to use the "f" word but my mother may be reading this). I feel like Ashton Kutcher may be lurking around the corner just ready to jump out and tell me I've been "Punked".
But really, I get it. I just need to work harder on implementing absence of activity. Oh yeah, and I guess that means I should bite my tongue when the simple act of admiring clouds with my toddler turns into a spout off about evaporation, condensation and atmospheric gases. Good Lord, I'm a real head case.

Pumpkin Par-tay

We got a jump start on the Halloween festivities this weekend with a few family friends. Ella took a break from her "rainbow hat" aka clown wig and donned a princess headdress as she and her friends decorated pumpkins and noshed on dirt cakes. I was pretty impressed with the moms and dads in attendance. We could have been a sorry lot. Two sets of us had infants, one with a probably ear infection and we were outnumbered by four. We sipped martinis and micro brews trying to dress up a night of chili, hot dogs and glow necklaces as well as to help drown out the twelve kids, high on sugar running up and down the driveway trying out their best monster impressions. Overall, I think we did a pretty good job.
p.s. Is it me or does that cupcake look vaguely inappropriate? Tee hee.

Today, after an afternoon nap, we kicked around leaves. We saw deer. We stood in a forest with a golden sun shining through golden trees. This was an afternoon not to be squandered.

Return to Me

On the eve of what will be my first full week back, I was prepared to feel a lot of things. Sadness, regret and overwhelming anxiety was the obvious prediction. What I wasn't expecting was relief. Ella and Viv were kind enough to make sure I didn't get swallowed up by my own depression tomorrow as I drop them both off. How was this achieved you may ask? I spent the day wiping noses and scraping sh*t out of undergarments. I was taunted, screamed at and physically assaulted. I always thought I had this type of behavior under control...but I was so close to ringing up Jo from the Super Nanny so that she and her "naughty stool" could come over and open up a can of whoop ass (I had to say "ringing" as she is from England). So tomorrow as we pile into the car at 7:45 a.m. and I prepare for my day as problem solver, whine receptacle and social worker extraordinaire, I will thank my girls for giving me the best gift ever...I will be dropping them off with a smile.
Note: I don't typically clean sh*t out of underwear...that is not in my job description...but these were never worn AND from the Baby Gap. Case closed.

Staycation Fall 2010

Create your own photo slideshow

We took a vaca from the day to day this weekend. Jerry and I thought it a good idea to pack up - and by pack up we mean PACK UP - pay an arm and a leg for parking and spend 24 hours in a fifteen by twenty foot cell...I mean room...with a toddler and infant. We don't claim to be the sharpest tacks in the box. Despite thwarted Magnificent Mile plans due to the rain, we had a great time. We were able to stroll through Millennium Park and visit the Bean (aka Cloud Gate) for all of three seconds. Who knew two year olds were not that "into" modern art? Back at the hotel we got in our jammies, ordered in and watched the city lights from the comfort of our beds. We didn't fuss about crumbs, eating in or jumping on the bed. We even donned pjs until 9 a.m. The cleaning staff has undoubtedly not seen this type of room abuse since the last time White Snake was in town...but hey, it wasn't our house ; ) We left a decent tip, didn't we Jer?

An Inventory

When Plato said the unexamined life is not worth living, was he imagining the pace of twenty-first century family? Our mantra is: See more, be more, do more. But in what will likely be my last "leave" from work before retirement (oh so depressing) I took a moment to exhale and examine. Albeit brief, I was able to step outside of the structures, schedules, routines and rituals that organize my life. Maybe "forced outside" is a more accurate statement when dealing with a newborn. With my routine disrupted, I was able to become much more conscious about my actions, surroundings, decisions and relationships. And although disruptions can be quite unsettling...exciting things can start to happen (if allowed). New options emerge, growth occurs and priorities gain clarity. Lord knows, this type of enlightenment ain't happening amidst rush hour traffic, shuttling the kids to daycare, making dinner, keeping up with yard work and trips to the grocery store. So I'm grateful for the time I've had to slow down, breathe, focus on our Vivian and take inventory on my life. I've decided to make some minor changes - no I haven't decided to join an ashram - at least not yet. But I'm happy with the direction this "pause" has taken me.

Next Chapter

The party is over.
Vivian started daycare this week, albeit a shortened schedule. She ate, slept, cooed and displayed her general sunny disposition without any gross signs of maladaptation. I on the otherhand, not so much. I must have been in denial because I didn't realize she was starting until the day before. I sent her off to daycare with tears in my eyes and a sleeve of Ella's old size four diapers...opps. Although intellectually it was much easier this time around as we know and trust her providers, it was just as sad leaving her in the arms of another caregiver. My brain and heart are engaged in a heated debate leaving me feeling thoroughly screwed with.
Brain: You're teaching her she can trust others. You are opening her world to new experiences. You are sending her to a classroom that was designed for optimal infant development.
Heart: I like being the center of her universe. I don't want her to forget about me. I hate saying goodbye. And by the way, did you see the snot hanging off of that kid Lily?
Brain: Relax, your kid's going to have a rockin immune system.
Heart: Go to hell.

A Mom's Manifesto

There really is a method to my madness. To the casual observer, most days may appear to be a run away train; but I do try to parent with the following principles in mind: Health, Happiness and Balance. Admittedly we've lowered our standards drastically as soon as reality set in (approximately 1/26/08-the first two days we were running on adrenaline-we really were the best parents before we became parents). But, to the best of our abilities we promote "Health" and "Happiness" by: Offering plenty of foods made from scratch or meals made with ingredients that don't require a PhD in food science to decipher. We also make sure the girls get enough sleep, breathe plenty of fresh air and have an opportunities to run, jump and climb. We try to promote adventure, creativity, mess and learning. We try not to hover. We allow dirt, scrapes and minor bruises as it's all part of becoming an independent and confident kid. We encourage learning through doing. We also indulge them with plenty of hugs and kisses and visits with grandparents and loved ones. And I don't think we're doing half bad.
BUT...
It's this "Balance" part of my manifesto that always knocks me on my hiney. Balance means being able to swallow the fact that Dora may invade our house for more hours of the day then I would like to admit (like a virulent, intractable disease...sorry Dora, it ain't personal). Balance is being able to shrug off those nights when Ella comes home from a party (or a loved one's house) stuffed like a Mexican pinata full of candy. Those nights when insulin and/or a toothbrush (preferably both) should be within arms reach and the person responsible should be in the next state or risk stragulation. Balance is not beating yourself up for not reading her the nightly three books when you are too dog-tired to change out of your work clothes and your contacts are fused to your eyes. Balance is accepting that perfection can't be a reality for your child 100% of the time. And it's precisely because of these imperfections that our kids will turn out perfectly fine.
Imperfections = Perfectly Fine

Roll Out the Barrel

Ella has lived over two years without a proper introduction to Oktoberfest. What type of German am I? It was high time that Ella had a taste of her first schnitzel. So off to Edelweiss (dubbed "Chicago's #1 German Restaurant") we went. She may have turned up her nose at the spaetzel but we did talk her into some knackwurst (aka "hotdog") and pretzen (aka "bread). She even got on the dance floor for a little foot stomping and knee slapping while Mommy, Daddy and Vivian threw back a Spaten. Relax, there's no drinking age in Germany. It was like a kooky wedding reception...aside from the waitstaff in dirndls. She was not even thrown by the weird guy in lederhosen. Note she won't go within ten feet of the Easter Bunny. I got enough delicious beige goodness to last me until next Oktoberfest. With dumplings sauerkraut and pork who needs to eat in color?