They’re Not Voices, They’re Emotions Darn it!

“Well done, you! Talk about rock star status! You’ve been in California for two weeks now and have two interviews set up with two different educational technology companies! Your birthday is 2/22. Two is your number, woman!” Joy is a bit of a weirdo, but she certainly knows how to make me feel good. I was so excited. I have had so many people tell me not to lose hope if I do not find a job in educational technology right away and to give it a few months. Well, in the wise words of Chris Brown, “Look at me now! I’m getting’ paper!” Joy seems to put the weirdest songs in my heart when I get excited. “Yeah, well, they will probably take a second look at your resume and realize all of your experience has been in teaching. You have no technology background other than a crazy expensive Masters in Education Media Design and Technology. Keep that teaching license handy, Kate. It is almost summer break and schools will be hiring.” Ah, the comforting thoughts of Reality who I like to call Debbi, Debbi Downer. How do I know Debbi’s real name is Reality? It says so on her shirt. "Oh, Kate! It's going to be just like the movies! Think Melanie Griffeth in "Working Girl"! You're going to take public transportation into the big city for work and be a rock star for the company." Okay, so my Joy is a product of the 80s. Also keep in mind, in the Midwest we don't have subways or a BART. We can walk or bike nearly anywhere we need, not that we do. I mean after eating steak & potatoes for breakfast do you feel like exerting any energy? Public transportation is a novelty to us Midwesterners. As the next two days passed, I researched each company and came up with great questions to ask and key words I knew they would be listening for. Company one called. They wanted to do a phone interview first. I answered the phone with a voice that said, “I am confident” but really my palms were sweaty and I had no idea what to expect. Todd introduced himself and sounded like he was more nervous than me. His questions were so generic. “How long did you teach kindergarten? Why the switch to seventh grade? What fun things did you do with your classes?” And the dreaded, “Do you have any questions for me?” “Um, yeah, Todd, if that is really even your name. How old are you and how many hours have you had this job, Todd?” I am so glad I rarely give in to Anger. “Not at this time, Todd. Thank you so much for your time. I greatly appreciate it.” Joy always knows what to say. How does that 7-minute phone call even count as an interview? Is this how Californians do it? They think they can get enough information about a person in 7 minutes to know whether or not they want to hire them? This might work in the Midwest, but it would be face to face so you could look the person in the eyes and read them, not over the phone and with such lame questions. Only two questions would need to be asked, “What three things do you value the most?” and “How do you feel about the Patriots?” If God, the Bible, family, or hard work were not somewhere on that list for the first question, and the answer to the second didn’t involve spitting, cursing or a disapproving grunt you had better polish up that resume for the next job. The next day was a phone interview with the second company. Todd set the bar so low that I am pretty sure a cat performing the interview would be an improvement. This phone interview went incredibly well. The questions were solid and the interviewed even gave me personal advices from childcare to restaurants to check out since I was new in town. I hung up with a face to face interview set for next week. “You have been trapped all day every day in this house with a 4 year old and almost 2 month old. Adult conversation will be so much fun! Lets think about what to wear!” “Um, yeah, back to what Joy just said. You just had a baby a month and a half ago. You should totally look in your closet and find something to wear. I’m sure it will be in there. Oh, like that robe, or maybe try your husband’s side of the closet. I’m sure something will fit from over there.” Debbi, always bringing that harsh reality slamming to the front of my mind like a tidal wave. Day of the interview I decided to wear a dress that had a bit more flow to it. I left the house a little early as New 7’s app had just pushed a notification alerting me of traffic on the road I needed to take. “Well, crap, Kate. If you weren’t so directionally challenged you would have realized the traffic was for the opposite direction. You are now sitting in the parking lot twenty minutes early and looking like a fool.” “Just get out of the car, own your excessive earliness and wait patiently until it is time. You look great by the way.” “Psh.” I got out, walked inside, and asked to speak with Jeff. The man behind the counter looked up and made small talk with me. Joy took over, that nerd. The gentleman and I cracked each other up. I felt at ease. I walked into the room with Jeff and the HR director, gave my presentation and nailed it. Jeff explained the next step was to bring in the president of the company to finish the interview. Wouldn’t you know it, the guy from the front desk walks in. *insert wide eyed emoji* Jeff makes introductions. “We go way back! What like 30 minutes. Boy, those were wild fun times.” “Oh my word, Joy! I cannot believe you just made her say that. She looks like a fool!” The rest of the interview I had to keep reminding myself to not bit my lips and to keep my hands still. The president explained more of the job to me. There would be sales involved. At this point Debbi took over. “Kate, you do realize that sales means numbers and math, right? Remember how well you did with that in high school? I’m going to guess this company does not give extra credit points for dressing up for spirit week like Mrs. Cook did. You have never done anything like this. This is so far out of your range. Rethink. Rethink. They are not going to want someone like you. They know you cannot do this. Just saying. Love, Debbi.” Two days after the interview I was called and offered the position. The next day the contract was sent to me. It was about this time that I realized Debbi Downer was not her real name. Shoot. Reality wasn’t her name either. Her real name is Self Doubt and she is a real…you know. She so easily can take control if allowed. If allowed. Do not let Self Doubt take control. Follow Joy and you will always surprise yourself! This coming from the newest Educational Technology Consultant.

Take a Hike

In order to keep busy while the boys are in daycare this week, I decided I would try to venture out and explore where I live. I dropped the boys off at Ms. Chris’ house and told her that I was going to hike the hill next to our house again and maybe go for a long walk. To this, she explained, “Girl, you don’t even know where you are.” She could see the confusion on my face and decided to write down a few things for me. She told me about several parks that I needed to visit and a few trails to explore. She told me in a challenging way to not do the same things I had already done, but to try different things. She was right. Too often in my life I keep with what I know. I decided I was going to be adventurous! I went home and looked up hiking trails near me. There was one that didn’t seem too far off. I went to grab the address from the website. To my surprise there wasn’t really an address for this park. The address listed was “the end of Laughlin rd”. I thought I’d give it a try. As I drove I saw many gorgeous sites. I saw beautiful hills and beautiful neighborhoods. I took my left onto Laughlin Road and continued on through the outskirts of several cute neighborhoods. Then neighborhoods started to become more scarce. Soon, there were no houses in site, but there were horses and cattle. I kept driving. By this point my curiosity was taking over. The road started to narrow and signs reading “Rough Road Ahead” were becoming more and more frequent. I soon understood “Rough Road Ahead”. The road narrowed to the width of one care and the surface of the road became more like a trail that an actual road. I was thankful as I drove that another car was not coming from the opposite direction. This would have caused me anxiety, as I would have needed to pull off the edge of the road to allow the other car to pass. When I say pull of the edge of the road I was not on a cliff. It was more like an elevated road that’s edges ended abruptly. There was no guardrail and your car would have certainly rolled at least twice had you fallen off. I began to start worrying about the lack of human life around. Then, I started to notice that many of the horses were blindfolded in the fields. What were they not suppose to see? Am I walking into the makings of a horror film? If I keep driving down this dirt road am I therefore the girl who is running up the stairs being chased? Soon I started to see several parked cars together and a building that looked much like a house. As I pulled in, I saw the park’s sign and knew I was in the correct place. I pulled the car into a parking spot and started to gather my things when I realized, I still do not see anyone. I searched with my eyes over all the massive hills that surrounded me for a sign of human life. Nothing. I looked at the recreation house thinking I’d go in and talk to a park ranger and ask question. No one. I got out of the car and walked to the trail maps that were posted. There were so many and they were very long. I looked around at each trail. The trails were nothing more than a path that was wide enough for one person to walk along and even then, the trails looked like only a few people had ever walk along them. They were not as clearly stomped out as I was used to seeing. I take another look at the parking lot. It was then that I realized I was a bit out of my league. Out of the six cars that were parked on the gravel parking lot four of them were Subarus. The other two looked like cars a bun wearing, bearded, hippy man would drive. I took a deep breath. I can do this! As I walked to the trail that I had decided upon I noticed another board. This board read, “Warning: Be aware of mountain lions and rattle snakes! They will not attack until they feel threatened.” *insert wide eyed emoji* Seriously? It went on to explain the difference between the snakes you would see and the sounds a rattlesnake will make when it is feeling threatened. This is the point where I start thinking about what to do if I encounter either of these creatures. There is not a soul in sight that would see this go down nor do I believe there is a soul within earshot that would hear my scream. I decided to go hike somewhere else. I drove another 30 minutes in the opposite direction and found a massive hill at another park. There were people! I walked up to the two I saw and asked about the trails. They pointed me in the direction of a certain trail that fit my description of safety and difficulty. It was a beautiful hike. Not a snake in sight nor the growl of non-domesticated animal. I hiked four miles and felt amazing. Today, I am going to be trying another park and hopefully will have the same experience. I will be looking at the types of cars parked in the paved parking lot and the amount of human life I see around to decide if I will be getting out of the car, or looking for a new park.

M.I.A.

It has been four months now that I have lived in California. I am progressively getting better at getting around without the help of my phone’s GPS. I have had several instances where I get the boys loaded up into the car and am going to head out, but then see that my phone has only a small percentage of battery life left. That’s okay, I have my Mophie battery. When I see that battery is low, I panic. What if my phone dies? I am sadly one of those people who only knows four phone numbers by heart, my husbands, my own, my childhood phone number, and 911. What if my phone dies and I do not know how to get home? I know I can stop at a gas station and ask for directions, but I have a problem that I am working on. That problem is, when people talk to me giving me important information, my brain will panic and shut off though my eyes and facial expression let the person believe I am still actively listening and understanding. The time old saying of “In one ear, out the other” is exactly what is happening. So, if my phone does die and I do have to stop to ask for directions I will need to unload both boys out of the car, go inside, write down word for word what the attendant is saying, load both boys back into the car, reread the directions and pray that the attendant never said the words “Head North on ______, then turn West…” because I will find a cozy cardboard box to call home and hope that David comes looking for us. Today was the first day in four months that I have been away from my boys for more than two hours. Today they started the new daycare. I had zero worries about them being in the care of Ms. Chris, the real challenge was can get there and can I handle being without them? Getting there turns out to be a breeze. I only have four roads that I travel on and am there. As I dropped the boys off W runs off to go play with the other kids and baby B begins to cry. Ms. Chris quickly sets him under the ceiling fan facing the other playing kids and baby B is suddenly happy. Psh! They are handling this whole “momma’s not with us” thing better than I think I am about to. I said my good byes and headed home. David told me I should go shopping to keep my mind off of being without my babies, so I plugged in the shopping center into my GPS and headed out. I had a good time doing a little needed shopping, but when I got home the loneliness hit me. I didn’t have any little hugs or squishy faces to kiss. I didn’t have any crying or favors to take care of. It was silent. *insert wide eyed emoji* What do I do? Well, I’ll tell you what I did. I made myself some lunch, folded laundry, took a nap, perfected a Dubsmash video to send to my sister, and sat down. It’s only 2:30. I cleaned my kitchen. I’m running out of things to do, or at least things I want to do. I missed my boys so much. I had been looking forward to a little me time, but this was too much me time. I feel like I have to discover who I am without my kids. I decided I’d go bring in the trash cans and get that done before getting the boys. I go out and see my recycling tote and organics tote, but there no is garbage tote out why I had placed it. I took care of the other totes and looked all around for my missing garbage tote. I called sanitation who questioned me. “Do you know who would have wanted to take your tote?” “Well, I have offended many people who would seek their revenge on my by taking my garbage tote, so I can’t really narrow that long list down.” Is what I wanted to say. I’m pretty sure that this was going to be a case for Ice T and the Special Victims Unit . Instead I said no. “Did you put it by the curb this morning?” Yes, the computer is plugged. Seriously?! “Yes, I am positive that I placed by the curb last evening.” “Oh, well sometimes the totes fall into the truck. We’ll send you another.” Could we have not just started with that? I went and got my boys without using my GPS. Loaded them up while receiving loads of hugs and kisses. Now, all is right with the word again.

Just Like Animals

I have a friend who loves animals. She is madly allergic to them, which only makes this love affair even more hilarious. She once got herself worked up about an upcoming Dr.'s appointment. She, while expressing her anxiety of said appointment, went off on a rabbit trail. "Oh! Wouldn't be awesome if you walked into a doctor's office and instead of elevator music & silence that only breeds more nerves, they had lots of puppies or kittens?" I nearly drove us off the side of the road laughing at this. Not b/c it was an outrageous thought, but because it was an outrageous thought coming from the Benadryl poster child. She has a sense that most hunting dogs would be envious of. She can hive up just by hugging the owner of a cat or animal of any kind really. She jokingly, unless it could really happen, told me the other day that she wished she could raise a tiger. As we discussed this we began talking about animals that had been taken from the wild, cared for by an unnatural source, then released back into the wild. The animal did not know what to do. It did not want to leave the human family it now had. It would continue to come back to the humans and try to live life the way it had grown to know. I am that animal. A month before I moved to California I had just had Baby B and did not go anywhere. I did not drive due to the healing process that needed to take place. When we first moved to California I did not have a car. I was limited to being at home or with in walking distance from home. I never went anywhere unless it was the weekend and David was with us. I didn’t mind at the time because that is what I had come to know. I found a way to have fun. The boys and I went to the park, we took nature walks, or we played football in the side yard. We had our fun. My dear husband and a friend drove my car out to California the other week. I now have a car of my own here in California to drive. I could finally go to Target, go to the zoo, museums, or even drive into San Francisco any time I want! This is exactly what I have been looking forward to. I have had my car back in my possession for nearly two weeks. I have gone out possibly four times. *insert wide eyed emoji* I find that I am still staying at home doing the same things I had been doing before I had my car back. The boys and I go for longer walks or hike the hill next to our house a little more frequently, but nothing has really changed. My husband has given me the freedom of having a car, but like an animal raised by humans, I keep going back to home. Tonight, I took my son to the movie theater. I used my GPS to find the theater downtown. It may be a smaller downtown, but it was hoping tonight. I started to get nervous trying to find a parking spot and still make it to the movie on time. I finally found a spot to park, got my son out of the car, and walked quickly to where my GPS told me to go. I walked up to the ticket booth with skepticism, as I did not see one person walking in. As I walked up I quickly realized this was a performing arts center not a movie theater. UGH! I explained that I was from out of town and looking for the movie theater. I instantly felt uncultured and like an idiot. We finally made it to the theater and made it in time for the start of the movie. After the movie, and hearing that I was the best momma and getting many kisses on my hand as we walked back to the car, I was filled with happiness, so much so that I did not plug into the GPS the address to get home. I figured it out! It felt so good to be able to go somewhere and not need to look up directions. I am beginning to feel at home.

My Reality

Fireworks are an amazing thing. They can be so fun and beautiful, yet so annoying and hazardous. We only had fireworks one time a year in the Midwest and that was for the Fourth of July. Living in California there are many more opportunities. In the Midwest everyone drove out to the local high school, because there were only two, one on the North side of town and one on the South side. You’d lie out your blanket and spend an hour to two before the fireworks even started playing football or lighting sprinklers. As you watched the fireworks show you’d be listening to the local radio station that synced up the display to Patriotic music. You would meet new people next to you who would share their picnic food or drink with you and the evening would leave you with a sense of camaraderie and community. For the last few years my family has been gathering at my Aunt and Uncle’s house for a day of swimming, eating, and fireworks. It is always a blast. I have come to look forward to that part of summer vacation when we go back to visit. This year was a little different. Due to the move we did not go back for our usual summer trip. I was bummed that I’d be missing out on all the fun, but decided to start thinking of ways to make new holiday traditions. David and I decided to have his colleague/friend, her eight month old, our good friend from Florida who was visiting, and our neighbors the Miyagis over for dinner. We had Mexican food, of course, because what doesn’t say American like burritos and guacamole? We had a great time and were so full. We were not sure there would be any fireworks due to the major drought we’ve been having. In the almost four months that I have lived here I have seen it rain one time for about 4 minutes and people are talking about lighting fireworks! I decided to Google our town’s firework show. It was during this time that I learned there were, in fact, fireworks downtown and that it was $20 parking to see the show. *insert wide eyed emoji* Yes, you read that correctly, $20 to park your car and watch fireworks. Directly across the street from our house is a new park that has a huge hill with hiking trails that has only been open for less than a year. We decided we would hike up the hill and watch from there. As we headed out, we noticed several people from our neighborhood walking in that direction. W, our 4 year old, was super pumped to see the show so I was hoping that the small herd of neighbors walking in the same direction as we were meant that you could see the show from the park. Once in the park, I noticed several women sitting in lawn chairs at the bottom of the hill. I know I have sort of painted the picture of Californians to be cold, and my experience with most have been, but they can’t all be that way. I decided to ask these women a question that had been on my mind. Me: “Excuse me. Have you ever watched the fireworks from here before?” Woman 1: “Well, no. We were hoping that you could see the show from here, but we have no idea if we will be able to.” Me: “Ha! I was thinking that since there are so many people coming this way it must mean you can see the show. I guess we will find out if this is the place we will be watching next year.” Woman 2: “I’m hoping we can see them from here. I certainly do not want to pay $20 for parking next year.” Me: “I know! I’m so glad I’m not the only one who was put out by this!” Woman 2: “Well, here’s to next year!” As she raises her soda for a cheer. As I walked up the hill I was bursting with happiness! I just had a conversation with a Californian and they were not cold, they were not rude, they were human! Along the way up the hill my friend points out holes in the ground and asks what animals made them. I told him, without hesitation, that moles made them knowing very well that they were too small for a mole. My friend looks at me and says, “I don’t think so, Kate. I’m pretty sure they are more likely snakes.” “Oh, no, those are not snake holes. I know this because snakes can’t survive in California.” I have been telling myself this since before we even moved to California. You see, I have a paralyzing fear of snakes. Florida, of course is the Devil’s playground since it full of these evil serpents that are thriving. Thanks, Hurricane Charlie. It is because of these spineless critters that I quit going for early morning runs. You see, the snakes would coil up or spread out on the sidewalks or roads for warmth. There were several runs during which I’m sure my neighbors thought someone was being attached. Really, it was just my seeing a snake or having to leap over one mid-stride. Here I am climbing a huge hill with long brown grass growing and holes. Mole holes, that is! Our hole conversation continued up to the top of the hill where we met up with David, W, and Mrs. M. Mrs. M tried to explain what animal, whose name we will no longer mention since I know it is a false statement because they do not exist in the state of California, made those holes. I feel if one can make himself believe anything, even if down deep they know it is not true. I am living in that world. I read a headline the other day “Snake bite season is here”! *again insert wide eyed emoji* I do not know who the editor of this newspaper is, but I cannot believe that he still has a job when he missed such a glaring error! We all know that mole bite season his here. I say all this to let those Midwest citizens who are looking to move to California to not worry. California and the Midwest have this in common: No snakes!

The Song of My People

I love music. Music can take you away to so many places without you leaving your seat. It can change an attitude, express a feeling, and even define who you are or want to be that day. I grew up in a somewhat conservative house. We did not get cable until mid to late 1990s. Until that time we still had the television where you had 13 channels and only channels 6,8, and 13 worked, you had to turn a knob to switch channels, and the power button you pulled out to turn on and pushed it back in to turn it off. If I wanted to watch television I went to my friends house. Once we had gotten cable there were very strict rules about when I could watch it. As a parent now, I totally get it. I was not top of my class and was notorious for waiting until the last minute to study or complete a project. If I was found watching television the conversation went a little something like this. Q1:“Katherine, is you homework done?” If answer was “No”, which it was 99.9% of the time, continue to Q2. If the answer was “Yes” because it was summer, skip to Q3. Q2: “Katherine, do you have a or project this week…or next?” If the answer was “Yes” continue to Q3. If answer was “No” continue to Q3. Q3: “Katherine, is your room clean?” If the answer was “No” continue to Q4. If answer was “Yes” continue to Q4. Q4: “Katherine, is it a week night?” Disclaimer: Sheltered is another word for my upbringing. Seriously, do not get me wrong. I would not change a thing about how I was raised and had a very good life. Music was another odd-ball in my childhood. I did not listen to the radio until I was in middle school. It wasn’t until then that I discovered music, really. I was surrounded by hymns and very conservative church music. Middle school I discovered radio. Dancing? Forget it! I knew that dancing was, “A vertical display of a horizontal desire.” I am Steve Martin from The Jerk, not familiar with the movie try Elaine from Seinfeld. I cannot dance, but sometimes, music moves my body. I cannot clap on beat or predict when the music will “drop”, but I still love it. I would take a cassette recorder, flip it upside down, and place on my alarm clock radio so I could record my favorite songs as they played on the radio. The early pirating. Timing was everything! Steve Lindell from WLBC seemed to always cut into the last part of the song, so you had to time it perfectly meaning you wouldn’t always get the last few cords, but you had the meat and potatoes of the song. My friend knew every song ever written. She knew all the words. It did not matter the genre of the song, she still knew all the word! She also had an amazing CD collection. She would let me play DJ in her car, my car did not have a CD player so we would take hers, and I would shuffle through usually playing the same songs I always played. She introduced me to everything from pop music to country. I started dating a guy, my now husband, who did not have the same up bringing as myself. He knew none of the songs I knew and I knew none of the songs he knew. I hated his music. Now, almost 13 years later of having to listen to it, I like it. I feel over my years I have a fair grasp on all different genres of music. I taught middle school for several years and they kept me on my “musical” toes. I had to keep up. The moment you lose touch with music, you’ve lost touch with many of your students on some level. The other day I went into Old Navy. As I waited in line to buy my clearance jeans I listened to the song the store was playing. I thought, “Where do they find this music? Seriously, do they look for songs that no one knows to make themselves seem more elite?” That’s when I heard it. It was all around me. The two teenagers in front of me were singing. They knew every single, stupid word! The two teenagers who I’ve had to listen to flirt with each other badly for the past 7 minutes are singing too. They know every word to this song and the next! *insert wide eyed emoji* What is happening? How did this happen? How does everyone else know the lyrics to these weird songs and I have never heard of them? It was then I had the answer! I wasn’t out of touch! I was in California! They of course get all the new music before the rest of the county, duh.

The Childcare Search

A two liter bottle filled with water upside down with a wide straw coming out of the cap, a large bowl of Cheetos, maybe a few Disney movies, a closet, and an outside lock on the closet is apparently frowned upon in the state of California as a source of daycare for my four year old and four month old. Do to this discovery, I have started my search for real daycare since I start my new job in a month. Back “home” I was paying $500 a month for my oldest son to go to school that had a curriculum. By the time we left, my then newly four year old was working on a Kindergarten level. We thought this price we really pricey, but knew he was getting an education as well. Here, in California, I’m not sure how people survive if they have more than one child. No lie, for both boys to go to daycare the lowest price was $2,000 a month! *insert wide eyed emoji* People, this is for childcare without a curriculum! I tried all the reputable sites. It was time to go back to my roots. I checked Craigslist.com. W’s first daycare provider, which was like hitting the jackpot, was technically on Craigslist, but I heard of her through word of mouth. There are so many daycare providers on craigslist. Many of whom identified their race within the tag line. “Indian provider”, “Bilingual Nana”, many Asian providers, and one “Elderly Woman”. The last one got me. Was she going for the whole Mrs. Doubtfire thing or just putting out there that she was looking for a nice rocker to complete her knitting while your children jumped from counters and held real jousting tournaments with knives in your living room while Mamaw was getting a head start on her knitted Christmas gifts. I went to one that was advertised as a Montessori daycare with “complementary curriculum”. I have many friends who children go to a Montessori school and have nothing but amazing things to say. Mrs. R was amazing. She had a fulltime helper and was able to have up to 14 kids at a time, which apparently not all who have 14 children have to have a full time provider. Yuck! I cannot imagine leaving my 4 month old in a house with 13 other children and one adult. Um, no. Though Mrs. R was super nice and affordable, there were two rooms the children could be in. A very small part of the kitchen and the living room which was, again, small. There was actually a leg missing from the yellow pleather sofa that had been replaced with yellow painted blocks of wood. The cleanliness was not next to Godliness in the play area. It was not disgusting it was jus noticeable that dirty little hands had been discovering things. I am not the best house keeper, so I get it. However, I also do not have 14 kids in my care every day. The thing that truly stuck out to me the most as worry was the temperature of the house. We keep our house at a steamy 70* at night as we sleep so my family has a need for cool air. This house had me looking for tiny sewing machines or production lines. I went a head the next day and called Mamaw aka “Elderly Woman” aka “Mrs. Doubtfire”. She had advertised as doing light house cleaning and cooking as well as fulltime childcare. I called her, as she of course did not email, to talk with her. She answered in a way that let me know that she was frustrated with something. “Hi, I saw your ad on Craigslist about childcare. I have a 4 month and 4 year old I am look for care for.” “Oh, what are your dates and times? Get over here!” “Uh, I guess it would be considered full time. Five days a week, full days. You wouldn’t need to do any cooking or cleaning as that is why we had children.” Silence “I’m just kidding. Sorry.” “That is too much time. No. I’m not interested.” Hangs up the phone. I didn’t know whether to be offended or laugh at myself for even calling her! What did I expect? Really? I called a provider today. My expectations were super low. She was amazing! We ended up talking on the phone for close to 20 minutes while she helped the little ones around her. She used a calm voice and all the kids responded well. I told her we were new to California and she explained that she had moved years ago from Virginia to California and knew exactly how I felt. She gave me a list of things to go and see this weekend. I have an interview with her tomorrow. I am hoping it goes better than my conversation with Mamaw, as well as with Mrs. R but with better air cirulation, and as well as the two interview I did with W’s first two providers Mrs. Sharon and Mimi. Fingers Crossed!

That Neighborly Thing

Growing up in the Midwest, summer and fall are the most amazing seasons. The summers are usually not too oppressively hot and if it was an extremely hot day you simply get your friends together and go to the public pool in your county, unless of course, you were members of a pool club then you just go there. Your best friends are your neighbors whose parents come over for dinner regularly and your neighborhood has odd traditions from lighting a tree in the middle of the neighborhood at Christmas, parades, picnics, Halloween costume contests, to late night hide and seek. You are probably thinking, “This only happens in the movies.” Where do you think they got the idea from, people? That’s right, Midwest living. Living in a California world I am learning that more Californians keep to themselves either to not offend, gain competition, or just simply don’t want to take the time to get to know you. Our poor neighbors. We moved in and the neighborhood is going to pot. We say “Hello” every time we see a neighbor, remember crazy details like their health, help them when their hands are full, and even smile at them. That’s right, we smile at neighbors and strangers. We even invite them over for either dinner or cocktails sometimes both! In a hand basket, that’s how we’re getting there! I have mentioned the Miyagis before. They are our neighbors directly behind us. They have come over to our house several times for dinner or drinks and we have thoroughly enjoyed their company. Mr. M is the mayor or our neighborhood. He knows everyone and will walk them to our back porch just to introduce us. The first time he returned a plate to our house, he did not return it empty. It had limes on it. I was thrilled! I thought only people in the Midwest did that! Over the course of time the returns would differ. We’d get flowers, limes, homemade Asian food, a major jar of artichoke hearts, and even a bag of stuffing. Last night Mr. M came over and asked if we had any yogurt. Again, thrilled! It was like asking for a cup of sugar! He then explained that Mrs. M had gotten food poisoning. David quickly said that he was headed to the store and would pick up some Gatorade for Mrs. M, which he did. When David got back from the store Mr. M was just outside. David asked what he was doing for dinner and if he’d like to join us. Mr. M was excited and said he’d be right over. About 7 minutes later, Mr. M comes in with a huge vase in the shape of a martini glass. He had cut some of his roses and made a beautiful floating floral arrangement as a thank you. He made a plate to take back to his house, as to not leave his wife alone for too long. Ten minutes later he returned! He wanted to know if we had any leftovers and if so, could he have them for tomorrow’s lunch? We laughed and said, “Absolutely!” I helped him make a to-go container and fill it up. Tonight Mr. M came back over with the plate. Have you ever had one of those moments where you have to ignore a situation or actually dig deep for self-control? I had a moment like that when I accepted the plate back from him. It did not have limes, as I had hoped as we were having Mexican beers with dinner. Instead, it had two very small apples, two fruit cups, two pieces of Asian hard candy, a box of plastic fours, and a box of staples. Yes, staples. *insert wide eyed emoji*I held it together and showed so much gratitude it made my performances as I opened gifts at Christmas at the grandparents look like a roll in an elementary play. As soon as he left, I had a wonderful giggle. I giggle because of the randomness of the gifts, the sweetness of the gesture, the thoughtfulness of his action, and the feeling of “home” it gave me. I can honestly say that I love my neighbors and love the friendship that is budding. I can, also, say that I am so looking forward to sending him home with another plate of food just to see what I get in return the next time!

A City of Rest(rooms)

This week my husband was out of town so it was just the boys and me holding down the fort. Our neighbor, Mr. Miyagi, came over the first night just to give our oldest a toy helicopter to keep him entertained. W loved this toy and it did keep him fairly busy. The next day, after dinner, he came over and asked if W could come out and play! He took him to the park and then they played baseball in the side yard between our two houses. I watched as I rocked baby B to sleep. Then, instead of coming inside, I saw the two of them go into Mr. Miyagi’s house. I thought that was extremely strange. About 5 minute, they came out with the Mrs. She handed W something and told him to have a good dinner. He came home with homemade rice noodles with pork and vegetables! It was insanely delicious. I asked W why he went into their house. He replied, “I had to use the restroom”. Sigh, this kid. This weekend David had a work an event in San Francisco so the Miyagis volunteered to take the boys and I around the town. I thought, after being trapped inside all week, this was a most excellent idea. We got up super early Saturday morning. I was wrestling the thought of taking the baby stroller or just to carry baby B in the sling. I hate pushing a stroller through a crowd and the last time I carried him there were no issues. I bit the bullet and decided just to carry baby B. W loves trains and really any sort of transportation. He was so excited as we told him we’d be taking the BART! He had to wear his train conductor hat, because, what excursion would be complete without dressing up in character? Both families met up and loaded the BART. When we got into the city it was time for most of us to use the restroom. We walked to the Ferry building and started to walk in to find the restroom before Mrs. M spoke up and said, “No, go up stairs. It is cleaner and there are no lines!” she was so right! We were the only women in the restroom and it was super clean! San Fran Hack! We me the men and grabbed some breakfast at one of the eateries in the Ferry Building. It was delicious! I love that I could have a glass of champagne, an amazing breakfast, and coffee that put your favorite coffee shop’s to shame all before 9:30! We departed ways from David and began our journey! We did the Wharf’s farmer’s market where Mrs. M said I HAD to have Acme Bread Company’s cranberry and walnut bread. She proceeded to buy me a loaf and tell me to use it for French toast. Can I just say, Mrs. M is a wise, wise woman?! W wanted to show Mrs. M the sea lions. We loaded onto a streetcar. Have you ever seen the Youtube video where it shows people from Hong Kong literally being stuffed into the subway? Well, that was practically the scene here! I was standing next to the driver as the sardine bus started to move. The car stopped at a street light about a block up. W, being over the crowd already, asks really loudly, “Are we there yet? We’ve been packed on this thing for far too long!” Since Californians do not talk while on public transportation, the entire car erupted in laughter. People who were sitting tried standing up to see who had said that. Yep…he belongs to me. We saw the sea lion. Notice I said “lion” and did not pluralize it? When we got there we only saw one. During the five minutes we stood there about four others showed up. Glad they got the memo because had they not I would have had one very disappointed 4 year old. As we were exiting the Wharf, I realized I needed to change baby B. I waited in the typical woman’s bathroom line until I noticed the changing station was not in a stall at all. I rushed over and began changing the diaper. No soon did I get the diaper off did I realize the woman’s bathroom was designed by a single male. The two women in stalls on either side of me tried to get out of their stall but since the changing table was down and their doors swung out they couldn’t get out. *insert wide eyed emoji* They had to wait for me to change baby B completely before they were able to even exit their stinking stall! We proceeded to ride several more modes of transportation throughout the day and saw so many incredible sites. We ended up meeting David in the lobby of the Metreon for sushi. It was time to use the restroom and change baby B again. I enter the stall to use the restroom. I sit down to begin business only to see a pair of nude nylons crumpled on top of the sanitary trashcan stuffed with toilet paper. Talk about having an embarrassingly bad day apparently. You couldn’t even put them in the trashcan? Instead, you needed your story told to the world via your nasty nylons? After lunch we headed back to the BART station and headed home. It was an amazingly fun day. We were finally off the BART and headed to our car when my husband accidentally stumbled into me and, thanks to having the super power that all mommas have of quick reflexes, I did an Irish jig jump over a pile of human feces. WoW! You didn’t think I would end on that note, but I did! * drops mic and walks away*

Nick Nolte's Doppelganger

Ah, the Midwest where your entire life’s existence could take place within a three mile radius. No, go ahead and laugh or scoff at this, but I am not kidding. Last summer on vacation we stayed at my parents’ house. I decided to go for a run. I made it to the grocery store and back and still did not meet my mileage goal for that day. My school and my church were one, the grocery I could ride my bike to, my summer jobs were seriously right down the street, and the University I graduated from with my Bachelors was only, maybe, two miles from my house growing up. The next “big” town over was about a 30 minute drive. Getting to any of these places did not require getting onto the high way. Ah, California where one must survive a traffic jam on a high way to simply run to the grocery. Yes, I know, there are back roads and I am learning to take them. The nearest town is probably 3 minutes, if that, away, but again, you are logging high way miles as well as community service hours you now have to serve due to your little outbursts of road rage each time. I feel that California is in many ways a country of its own. When we moved I knew I’d need to get my California driver’s license. I was a bit nervous. I know I am a good driver, but I hate taking tests. I always over think questions then end up getting them wrong. I studied for the driving test. I know, I’m a nerd. I did not want to be an adult and fail a computerized driving test. David came home from work and I left the boys with him as I drove, on the highway, to the next city’s DMV. I had gotten ready to be seen in public, which is the momma of a newborn’s way of saying, “I took a shower and had make-up on.” I had all my paper work in a folder when my number was called. The gentleman was super nice, even though the DMV was packed! It may have something to do with the fact that he had a Patriots decal in his cubical and I jokingly said, “Oh, you’re a Pats fan. I can wait.” He laughed hard and replied that he shared the cubical and that was not his. He did not like the Pats. I then told him we could be friends and he was welcome to dinner. Ends up I did not have the correct paper work for my marriage certificate so I have to put my maiden name on the license. The gentleman, Miguel as we are now besties, said we could hold the license until I had gotten the correct paperwork and I could still take the test that day. So that is what I did. There is a question, “Where can a motorcyclist drive? A) only on city streets B) three seconds behind the vehicle in front C) any part of the open road. Psh! I got this! I’d seen motorcycles on the highway just getting here. Now, “B” or “C”. Well, I remember the question about needing to drive three seconds behind the car in front of you and driving a motorcyle in the bike lane, uh that just isn’t safe. So, “B” it was! WRONG! Motorcyclists can drive anywhere! They can drive between cars, they can drive on “any part of the open road”. *Insert wide eyed emoji* Well, any way, that was the only question I missed! I got my picture taken and was done. Now, all I had to do was bring back my marriage certificate and I was set. A few weeks later, I went back to the branch closest to my house. I brought the baby with me and left our oldest at home with daddy. It had been a rough day, so no shower, brain frazzled, and I almost forgot my paperwork. As I walk in, my heart sank. I thought since it was almost the end of the day on a Friday the wait time would be minimal. WRONG again. I carry the baby in the car seat, as I did not want to have to wrestle paper work and a baby, to the back of the never ending line. Since I had plenty of time on my hands, I began looking around. I realized I was the minority and stuck out like a zit on a first date. Coming from the Midwest town I grew up in there was not a whole lot of diversity. There were so many conversations being had in so many languages, very few in English. Everything was labeled in at lest three different languages. It was kind of cool, to be honest. The people I was waiting with were super sweet! They were not your Disney World “out of town” tourists. They were not trying to get a piggy-back ride from me as they waited behind me and those in front of me would turn and make small talk. It was seriously a pleasant hour wait. I finally got my number and had a seat. I sat down and asked the gentleman next to me if he would mind if I put the car seat on the seat that separated us. His answer, “As long as it doesn’t fall.” What?! I gave him my Midwest smile and a “Thank you”. I sat for about 3 minutes, then baby B started getting fussy. I reach in the diaper bag only to realize, I packed the formula but not a bottle! It was 4:00 and he was ready to eat. I grabbed his seat and walked to the entry way and just started swaying with him. I seriously expected many people to give me a dirty look. However, it was the men who were cooing over baby B and talking to him to soothe him. The women were super sweet too don’t get me wrong. After making a few new besties from all parts of the world, my number was finally called. There was still an enormous line, longer than when I started, and it was now 4:30! I quickly walked to the cubical where a nice lady sat. I handed her my paper work and she responds with, “Oh, dear.” “What? Please, tell me that was an ‘Oh, dear, I love my job and will have to go home soon’ and not an ‘Oh dear, she doesn’t have all her paperwork together and has been waiting for an hour with a crying infant.’” “It was an, ‘Oh dear, she doesn’t realize she has to retake her photo.’” *insert wide eyed emoji* “What are your talking about? I got myself all cleaned up in the bathroom of the gas station across the street. You should have seen me before.” We had a good laugh. I thanked her for knowing that this was not what I looked like in public normally. It was time for the photo. “Look at the blue dot and smile,” she said. “Uh, not until you tell me that I don’t have random hairs sticking out all over the place. If my license turns out looking like Nick Nolte’s mug shot, I will blame you and bad talk you all over social media.” I said laughing. She was laughing and said that she would so not be telling her friends tonight over drinks about the whitest girl’s DMV visit she experienced today. DMV bestie number 37. Here is a preview of possible driver license photos that may make the cut.

Who Needs a Dog?

A few days ago a friend asked me how I was adjusting to California life. I gave the sweet, what you are expecting answer. “Oh, things are wonderful. California is beautiful and the weather is so nice. We have two parks close to us so we have plenty of ‘free’ fun.” As I was talking to my husband about my conversation with my new friend I was a bit more honest. “David, I do love it here. I love our weekends as a family when we go around exploring. But, David, I feel like a dog when you ask, “Is everyone ready?” as we get everything together for the car. I’m so excited to go for a car ride that when I get in I just want to hang my head out the window and shout ‘Hello’ at every stranger.” I felt like this was an excellent description of how I felt. I do not feel neglected, I do not feel lonely, I do not feel really any negative feels about being here. I simply find pleasure and excitement in the weirdest things, which sounds kind of sad really. I started to think of other things that I now find crazy pleasure in that I never really had before. Walking to the mail box, for example. It’s a small walk, but the scenery is absolutely beautiful. Taking out the recycling, organics, and trash is another. This gives me a sense of purpose like I’m one with Mother Earth and I am helping save the planet. Cleaning the house. There is nothing better than having a clean house. I was beginning to think I wasn’t in such bad shape. I’m not so pathetic. I’m good. I’m normal. Then I thought of one more thing that I occasionally do that makes me happy, going to Walmart. That is when it me, I am pathetic. Walmart? Really? *insert wide eyed emoji* And to top it all off, it is not even a Super Walmart, it is simply just an old school, dirty Walmart. I usually run in, smile nicely at the greater who wants me to take a cart, I mean REALLY wants me to take his cart, dodge the dude who wants to sell me a family portrait deal, walk quickly pass the Nathan’s Hotdog stand, grab formula and diapers, cut through the Tweety Bird and Winnie the Pooh outfits made for adult women, and quickly check out. I always get the same cashier. He jokes that my total will be something odd like $500 and I give a courtesy laugh back and say something like, “That sounds about right.” I jump back into my car, plug my home address back into my phone so I don’t get lost, and drive home. Sadly, after dissecting my Walmart runs, it still sounds fun. Sad, I know. Last weekend my husband told me that he wanted to take the kids and me into San Francisco. He jokingly said he would even roll down the window for me. Funny man, huh? I remember as a young adult going to Fisherman’s Wharf and seeing the sea lions. I knew that our four year old would love this. When we got to the Wharf it was so much bigger than I remembered! We must have walked, this is just an estimate, 85 miles! It was honestly so much fun. Our four year old was a champ! He was never carried, kept up with us as we walked and had an all around good attitude the whole day. It was time to eat. What do you eat when in San Fran? Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl, duh! We sat down outside and ordered. I had my chowder but also a tall cold beer. Not because it was a hot day in San Francisco, as we all know that does not even exist, but because it just sounded good. Baby was an angel. He smiled and cooed at everyone and sat on my lap while I ate. Then, the sky fell. Baby started screaming. I asked where the restrooms where and was lead, not directed, lead to the restrooms. I changed baby B who screamed the entire time. When I got back to the table David was signing our check and trying to get our oldest ready to move on. The wind blew and our check disappeared, the baby was screaming, David knocked over his almost emptied soda, and oldest was not helping. Once we finally got everything together, a busser asked me if I was done. I answered jokingly over the screaming baby, “Yes, everything but the beer. Momma needs this beer.” The man let out a loud laugh and sweetly said he thought I was holding it together very well. We struck up a conversation as I tried to quickly down my beer. We got to know each other on a personal level. He has two kids, 3 years, 14 months, and one on the way *chug, chug*. He and his wife have been married for 5 years. *chug, chug* They moved to the San Fran area about a year ago *chug, chug* and have loved it since. All this while my husband is trying to dry off the check, as it ended up in my water, and wrangle our four year old. *chug, chug* I had finally finished and had to say goodbye to my new soul mate. The day was wonderful. We got back into the car to head home. It was super quiet as we were all completely tired (you thought I was going to say “dog tired” to keep with the theme didn’t you? Well, you should have because that would have been creative) and finally letting the blood flow back through our bodies. David looks in the rear view mirror at me and whispers, so as to not wake the two passed out children, “You know, you’re not a dog but you are certainly my best friend.” Heart melted.

Growing Pains

There's an episode of Growing Pains where the egocentric Mike Seaver stays home sick from school. His mind is blown when he sees the school bus drive by and drop his neighbors off. His father says, "Yes, Mike, life goes on when you are not there." Well, crap. Life does go on when I'm not there. I love my friends and do realize that life goes on without me; it's just not supposed to be fun without me. I say this 97% as a joke and 3% seriously. I know my friends will have fun without me, they're just not suppose to have fun together without me. I was feeling a little lonely the other day and, of course, my poor husband got the brunt of my bad attitude. Well, that evening my friend FaceTimed me! I was just getting to go for a run, but a run can wait for a friend! I quickly answered with great excitement to see the face of my friend. He answered me back then I heard shouts of, "Hi, Kate!!!" I was so pumped! The gang was all there shouting hello to me! Wait...the whole gang was together having fun and I wasn't there? *insert wide eyed emoji* I felt like I was missing out on something amazing, because let's face it, when this group gets together it is nothing short of, dare I say, "epic". They all looked great! I loved seeing their faces and hearing them laugh as we joked around for those 40 minutes. After I hung up I felt rejuvenated and excited. I missed them as individuals and as a whole group. Several days later, I learned that half of the group was going on a trip together. Oh, the jealousy that flashed in my soul for a brief moment. I had to give myself a reality check. "Kate, 1) you don't live remotely close to them or where they are going. 2) You have two kids. It would cost you just as much in childcare. 3) You do not have to be apart of everything, they will NOT forget you. I think for any long distance relationship that is the biggest fear, being forgotten. Just to clarify: I love my friends and am uber pumped to hear about their vacations or nights out with each other. I quickly got over the jealousy, but it was a natural first reaction. I at times wish I could be put on FaceTime, set on a shelf, and simply just watch the hilarity that I know takes place!

Running From Aunt Bertha to Concept Cars

Women have a terribly skewed body image. Rarely will you meet a woman who thinks her body is smoking hot and loves trying on bathing suits when indeed her body resembles your Great Aunt Bertha’s whose image you have burned into your brain from that time in elementary you walked in on her in the bathroom. The image that encourages you to run a bit further, a bit longer, a bit anything more to ensure you are not her. Well, now, have a baby. Shoot, have two and try telling yourself you look fine in your suit. I’m three months out from having my second baby. I am extremely proud of my children, love my family, and am a happy person, so please don’t read too far into this blog, people. I have been trying to watch my calories, which I have never done before. My fit sister told me about an app called MyFitnessPal. You simply tell it how much you want to loose, plug in what you eat daily, and it will calculate your daily caloric intake and give you a count down of how many calories you have left to stay on track of your weight loss goal. I’m a bit competitive. I see that number and will do my darndest to stay under it! Your workouts are even calculated! I enjoy running and have decided to get back at it to help me meet my goal. Running here in California is ridiculous! Two years ago I had the privilege of participating in the Bourbon Chase in Kentucky. The Bourbon chase is a 200 mile race that takes place over 2 days with 11 of your friends. You run from distillery to distillery. It is amazing. However, the hills are killers. Coming from the Midwest, where it is flat and perfect conditions for running, the hills in Kentucky were evil. Here in California they make the evil hills of Kentucky look like guardian angles kissing the foreheads of little cherubs. They trick you too! They look beautiful. They have green vineyards that look Hollywood perfect. You begin your run. It’s surreal as you begin to realize, “I live here!” Immediately after that thought your thighs begin to burn, your buns begin to scream at you, and your shins begin to split. Congratulations, you’ve just made it to .02 miles on your TomTom watch. “Aunt Bertha. Aunt Bertha. Don’t be Aunt Bertha.” You push yourself through. It was during one of these runs I was on the last leg of my route. I was feeling good about myself. I had made it farther and a few seconds faster. As I ran through a residential part of my route a Bronco SUV passes by slowly. Well, hellooo, California and contact buzz. I swear this car was a concept car that would put Elon Musk to shame. Psh, battery powered car, not hippy enough. Meet the Marijuana powered car. Its fumes will relax you as it drives you to it’s destination. Californians don’t realize, we Midwesterners are not use to that smell just being out in the open at any time. When I got back home, my eyes felt as though they were bleeding. It was painful to breathe through my nose. I felt as though I had snorted lighter fluid! Oh the pain! My asthma was ripping my lungs apart! It wasn’t until an hour or so later when I still felt all this pain, that I realized it was allergies. California. New state, new home, new jobs, new allergies. Welcome. ch

A Generic Lesson

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before or not, but my love for food rivals Kim Kardashian's love of herself. Having one son who eats "human" food like a pre-pubescent boy going through a growth spurt and another who requires formula, which is not cheap, it is important and hard to keep the grocery bill on budget. Many of us have gotten generic brands to help with our budgets, tried them out, & decided eating cardboard/tasteless food is not worth the $.50 savings. Well, my husband brought home Safeway brand jelly the other day. *insert wide eyed emoji* Now, I don't mean to brag, but I'm what many would consider a peanut butter and jelly connoisseur. I dare you to test my pallet by putting any other type of peanut butter that is not Jiff Crunchy on my sandwich and try to pull that wool over my eyes. I'm a bit the same way with jelly. I adore Bonne Maman's preserves so you can imagine my "what are you thinking" expression and the way I drilled him with questions like a pimp would to a "working girl" who didn't turn in the right amount of money at the end of the night. Well, I caved. I was desperate. I have no car to drive myself to the store and I was hungry. I spread the generic jelly on my generic bread with the utmost contempt. I took the first bite. Then the second. Huh! This isn't so bad! It was actually pretty good jelly! Next, my ho of a husband dared bring home a generic pizza! Now, come on, David! You're pushing it! Again, I was desperate. I was hungry. I was cold and alone. So, the last part maybe a bit over the top, but you get it. I popped that sucker into the over and waited the 18 minutes. Loo and behold, that Safeway pizza was good! It fed the family! It was only $3! What is going on with this universe? Since these two experiences, we have been buying more generic brands and have been happy with each choice this far! Here's another California life hack for you: 99 Ranch. It is an Asian market that smells terrible & whose isles are uber narrow, however, they have amazing prices on proteins and other essential grocery items. Our 4 year old would live on fruit if we let him. Fruit is not cheap! At 99 Ranch it is! It is, honestly, 1/3 to 1/2 the price of other groceries and super fresh! Farmers' markets are another great place to get produce cheaply, or course. Your local town will usually have theirs on either Saturday or Sunday every week. If you are as lucky as we are, our town's is one day & our neighboring town's is the other so we don't have to spend our entire day going to Farmers' markets. California is expensive, but there are ways to cut corners without having to miss out of flavor or quantity, you just have to know where to look.

Ain't No Party Like a Finn Party!

Food. Everyone eats it. Everyone needs it. People who say they eat to live I find to be sad people. Food is meant to fill your stomach and your soul. There ain't no party like a Finn dinner party! Some of, no let's be real, the majority of my best memories with friends back home have been at a dinner party at our house. David and I have specific roles at a dinner party. David's is to cook, set the food out, and make cocktails. Mine is to straighten up the house before, be a hostess and open wine. I am super fortunate to be one of those women who married a man who loves to cook. David does not make simple foods. You'll never come over to a dinner party where he has made a casserole or, really, anything processed. It usually involves some kind of protein that has brazed for several hours, buttery goodness or bacon grease on fresh vegetables, and homemade from scratch everything else. Every weekend our friends could count on coming over and having a meal. "What can we bring?" Is a question those new to the circle of friends would only ask the first few times. They quickly learned what to bring, beer/wine, or dessert though we never had much room for dessert. The conversations had at these dinner parties were the kind that would make my stomach muscles hurt the next day due to so much laughing. They would be extremely random and lively. Now that we have moved across the county, we do not have that circle of friends to call over. We are starting from scratch. David invited Mr. Miyagi and his wife over for dinner the other night. The Miyagi's are very healthy people who do not eat red meat and do not eat after 6 pm. Anyone who has ever been a frequent weekend dinner friend is already laughing at this. "They don't eat red meat and don't eat after 6pm and they are going to the Finn's?! Ha! Ha!" Let me shed some light on this hilarity. David only cooks red meat and his meals are never done before 7:30pm. I don't know who was more excited our son or me. We were having people over and we were going to have fun! Since the night's guests live behind us and loves to garden, our son would stand at the window and shout, "Hi, ___!! Are you excited to come over? I am!" Later, "Hi, ___! Is your wife getting ready to come over?" Keep in mind it is only 2 in the afternoon. Well, they finally came over and David, knowing they did not eat red meat, made plenty of shrimp for them. Turns out, his dinner smelled so good, they opted for the meat! *insert wide eyed emoji* We got the semi vegetarians to eat red meat! I feel as though we were Lucifer's tools in the downfall of these fitness gods. We had such fun conversations and when the night was over, they walked out our back door to their own back door. We have only had one other person over for dinner and though it's always a good time, I still feel that void of my Midwest dinner party friends who crack me up into tears or are late night ninjas who quietly do the dishes when I'm not looking or bring over an incredible bottle of wine or outstanding dessert. But, I know that our dinning room and patio will soon be filled with eruption of loud laughter and desserts brought over by new friends!

California Hospitality

I have lived in California now for 4 days. David has to go to Napa for a three day conference he is teaching. I have no car. I decided the boys and I would go check the mailbox, only for me to realize, I have no idea where our mailbox is! We live in a community where there is one large box with about 15 mailboxes. These magical letter holders happen about every other block. Logically, I went to the box directly across the street. I get there only to realize I had NO idea which number we would be. I tried all 15 to no avail. Now that I am on a federal watch list, I decided to retreat back inside & cover up my windows with tin foil since I'm obviously the crazy one. The next morning I decided to try again. I saw a neighbor walking his dog and decided to ask him. That seems normal, right? Well, the look on his face would have lead one to believe that I had asked him which mailbox was his and that I enjoyed watching the dinner party that he had at his house last night through his window &, boy, his friends can tell some funny jokes. Seriously, dude, I just wanted to know where to get my mail. He said to try the next block. No dip, Sherlock! Which block? But, instead, I smiled and thanked him and complimented him on his beautiful dog, because that is what we Bible belt people do. The following day the boys and I ventured out again. This time I decided we'd walk to the "mountain" across the street & go hiking. When I say it is across the street it literally is, but you have to walk around the side to the entrance. This walk crosses a fairly busy road, which our oldest loves because he gets to push the button for the cross walk. It is less than a half- mile walk and is very refreshing minus the major hills. Once there, we see an am amazingly gorgeous park to include a play area, doggy park, soccer fields, basketball courts, and a clean large grassy area. My son decided to take his sticker book with him in case he met any new friends. It was our lucky day! The park was swarming with kids of all elementary ages. There were tons of other moms there. I was happy to see there were people there for the both of us! I sent my son off to play as I walked to the circle of other moms. There was another mom carrying a child, much older than my baby, in a sling thing. I decided we could relate so I’d ask her a question to start up a conversation and make a life long friend. “Is this a mother’s group of some sort?” I asked sweetly. “Um. Yes.” “Oh, nice. We are new here and are so happy this park is here. It’s wonderful for my son. He wanted to share his stickers with other kids today in order to meet new friends.” “Well, we are a home school group. We come every Tuesday. There are probably other groups in your area that you can join.” *insert wide eyed emoji* “We live very close to the park, so I’m sure we’ll be here enough for him to make friends.” I start to end the conversation sweetly. “Oh, well, we might have room in our group, if you home school.” “I do, for now, but that’s okay. Thank you so much.” Seriously?! She was so rude and lacking social skills! Since I was obviously not going to be making my life long bestie today, I decided to watch my son use his charm. At first the other kids didn’t want his stickers. My heart was breaking for him! I told him to ask just one more. Thank goodness that little girl wanted one. After she took one, all the others came over for one. The joy on my son’s face almost brought tears to my eyes! He had so much fun that afternoon. Needless to say, we go to the park everyday.

Craig and His List

Craig and his list Our garage is an odd shape. It can hold 2.5 cars. Sounds great, huh? Well, it can house 2.5 cars in a single file. It's like a long ally to the house. I turn on the lights when I go out there because you never know what kinds of shady transactions or biker gang doings are going on down there. Well, that is maybe a bit dramatic, but it is long, narrow and dark. Now add on top of the narrowness we have the massive amounts of rubber made totes piled up on one wall. I'm not a professional Craigslist user, but I have used it from time to time, though I have only been successful a few times. Let me flash back for a moment to prove a point. Before we moved out to California, we had to have our house cleaned. Trying to stay on the cheaper side of life, I turned to Craigslist for help. I found a girl, down on her luck, who was trying to earn money so that she could start her own business. Her prices were super cheap & her ad seemed very open and honest. I replied to the ad and said I would give her $100 to clean my 2/2 house when she was only asking $70. My dad drives me to the old house and waits for me. The young lady calls me to tell me she is running late & stuck in traffic. She also wanted me to know she was bringing her mother. I explained that being a young woman with a craigslist ad, having someone go with you was a great idea. I appreciated her calling to let me know she would be late. When they arrived we could hear the car before we saw the car. The busted Mercury with no grill and a dangling bumper pulls up. "Whatever." I thought to myself. "She is working and trying to get by. I get it." I show she and her mom through the house pointing out what needed to be done as they sweetly followed and listened. At some point I happen to look down and see that the mother was wearing a house arrest anklet. *insert wide eyed emoji* well, she was wearing an "I love Jesus" shirt so maybe she'd turned things around. We all walk outside, me to get the money, the girl to get the cleaning supplies, & the mom to get the two very young kids out of the car. Oh, dear. I called my husband to let him know that I felt okay about this. 1) there was absolutely nothing in the house to steal and 2) they didn't look too artistic so I'm guessing they wouldn't be graffiti - ing the joint. I tell you all of this because it's not supposed to be like this. For most people they hire someone to get a job done and it goes as planned. I put the Rubbermaid totes up on Craigslist for $6 each. I had a few email or call and say they would be by to pick up the 12 totes and they'd bring the $6. No...they are $6 each! *sigh* I don't do craigslist transactions when alone, but as it turned out I had some one who wanted all 12 and understood the pricing as it was written. They would be in the area in a half hour. Great! This gives me enough time to talk "hypothetically" with my son about what to do if anyone came into the house who wasn't suppose to be and we were scared. Also, this slotted enough time to sharpen the large knife my husband had in the garage. Sadly, I'm not kidding about any of that. Can we still be friends? The man came. I had both boys inside and the poorly sharpened knife stowed away outside with me. No, not on me. That would just be crazy. The gentleman was just that. Super nice and helpful. Did not give off a creeper vibe at all. The transaction went down as it would for normal people. Now our garage was much bigger and had more room for activities! Our son loved riding his scooter up and down the garage and having a section of it designated as his toy room. While I unpack the oddball items that don't seem to have a place, nor do we need, nor can we seem to part with, our son could play in the garage. It's now a confined, safe area for play and requires very little supervision. This, my friends, is a parenting win!

Maternity Leave Psycho

When home alone with two young boys and no car, I start to go a little stir crazy. For instance, on maternity leave with my first, my husband came home from work and, as if not wanting to challenge the insane hormones, listened carefully as I explained in an outrage how many bags of trash our neighbors put out that day for pickup. "8 bags, David! 8 bags! How many people can live in that tiny house and produce 8 bags of trash?!" This round has been a little different since I've been much busier now with two boys and setting up a house. However, I did have to call a friend to let him know that Mr. Miyagi was living across the pathway from me! Yes, I was absolutely fascinated by the similarities! Also, every Tuesday a man runs with his dog on a leash past my house as his cat, yes auto-correct I did mean cat, runs behind him not on a leash! What on earth? 1) Who does that and 2) who memorized someone else's exercise schedule? Routine. I love a good routine. Starting a new life with two boys, one of whom is a newborn, routine is essential. I get up, feed the baby, put the baby down, make the oldest and myself breakfast, open the blinds, and then do dishes. Again, since we have spent our eldest’s college fund to move (not really, kid, it's a joke) I try not to turn on lights unnecessarily. Sunlight should be light enough! After a few days I mention to David how perplexed I am that the sun seems to be shining directly into the house, but it is still so dark in here. This is the point where my husband looks at me and says, "Kate, we have tinted windows." I thought he was messing with me, but as I look more closely, lo and behold they are tinted! I have never lived in a place with tinted house windows and we have even lived in the Sunshine State! The next day, David learned that not only is it illegal in California to have your front car windows tinted, but there are certain hours at which you are not allowed to make a turn. He learned that at approximately 7:58 AM. How do I know? Because if the time had been two minutes later, 8:00AM we would not have a $200 ticket to pay. *insert wide eyed emoji* *Also insert Joe Public's "you've got to live and learn" song*.

Momma needs to wine!

My husband is seriously the most sweet man ever. When we pulled into our very narrow, half a car driveway & opened the garage I could tell he's been hard at work unpacking the house. There were boxes and totes, that, no lie, were stacked to the ceiling of this very oddly shaped garage. When we walked in, it was a home. All the furniture was set up, beds made, and necessary things unpacked. He really did work super hard. I put the boys to bed and was right behind them. The next morning, our son came running into our room, "Momma! There are mountains here! Come look out my window!" I went with him to his room and looked out. Yes, there are mountains here in California, no, we do not live by them. He was pointing at a huge hill across the street. Remember, we are from the Midwest; our land is as flat as our chests were in middle school. I didn't argue with him, I didn't want to empty his cup as it was currently overflowing with joy! David had to go to work and I was to start life as a stay at home mom for the first time in my life. When we had our first son, I went back to work 5 weeks later. With our second and this huge move, I decided to give myself the summer to find a new job. So, I began my stay at home duties. I decided to start unpacking our suitcases. Have you ever noticed them when unpacking or trying to put things together you only make a bigger mess? Therefore, it looks as though you've gotten nothing done? I swear I was able to get lots done, you just couldn't tell. *insert wide eyed emoji* David came home and brought with him some wine. Wine! I haven't had wine since I found out I was pregnant! Wine! Yes, please! Now, I am too old to flirt with a hang over, so I took it super easy. Oh, it was good and well deserved. I didn't realize just how worn out I was!

And the Award Goes To…

As we landed after 8 hours of traveling, I was excited to see my husband & see our new house! Since we are at the back of the plane I knew there was no rush. By the time we were getting up to gather our things, the other passengers were long gone. I’m trying to juggle my new born all the while getting the backpack, diaper bag, and thinking of a way to get the other carry-on down from the overhead bin. One of the flight attendance came up and said, “I’ll take the baby and carry him to the jet way and meet you there.” Chick, you crazy! I’ve seen this Lifetime movie! I don’t think so! “Actually, if you’d take the diaper bag that would be very helpful. Thank you.” And that is exactly how it went down. I was grateful that she offered to help, and grateful that she could lift that diaper bag! Once we got to the jet way she kind of plopped the bag down and ran. I struggled getting the stroller unfolded, car seat attached, and baby loaded, but I did it and had the sweat to prove it! I'm rushing to get through the gate when a woman stops me. "How old is that baby?!" With momma bear pride I answered, "One month today!" "Why are you out and in an airport flying?! There are so many germs." Well, now that I have been nominated for “Worst Mom of the Year” by a perfect stranger, I was, more than ever, eager to get to my husband. *insert wide eyed emoji here* After being reunited, we got on the elevator to go get our luggage, which would have been great had the elevator not broken down with the four of us in it! UGH! Here is the scene: my husband had a case of the hangries and is in a “I’m holding it together due to small children being present”, our 4 year old hates loud noises and is therefore on the verge of tears as he is trying to bury his head in his daddy’s shirt, the baby is all smiles for now, and I’m laughing. Seriously, how can one not be laughing at this point. It is just one more thing to add to the already craziness that has been my life for the past month. David rings the emergency bell. Someone answers, “Are you stuck?” “Yes,” both David and I reply. “How many of you are there?” “Four,” again husband and wife synchronized answering. “How many?” “FOUR!” We seriously have this “Jinx you owe me a Coke” thing down! “Are you stuck on an elevator?” The look my husband had on his face was absolutely terrifying, but oh so funny. After our quick rescue I was ready to get my luggage, go to my new home, & sleep this crazy day off in my own bed! I looked forward to what my first day in California would be like in the morning.

Free workout with every flight

As we flew there were so many people who offered to help me. It was amazing and appreciated! Both flights the boys and I were seated at the back of the airplane which meant I had to carry the book bag, army ranger's rucksack (aka diaper bag), and new born all the while coaching my 4 year old sweetly to keep walking as he pulled the carry-on suitcase. He was making friends at very isle. "Are you going to California too?" "I have a baby brother. He's right here." Or "Hola! Me amo Warren!" Yes, this was said to a very sweet woman who probably had a beautiful tan from her vacation. *insert wide eyed emoji here* After profusely apologizing to her and about decapitating a few other people with my diaper bag, we finally made it to our seats! First flight was a breeze! Both boys took sweet naps and I was able to breathe just a bit. Our next flight was the long one. Same scene as the previous flight as we boarded. Pack mule making her way down those stinking narrow isles, oldest child making friends, and me taking off heads. The very sweet young man who spoke very little English and had the isle seat next to us grabbed the book bag off my back without my asking and placed it sweetly on the floor. He gestured that it was heavy and acted as though he hurt his arm lifting it. We both laughed that stranger, awkward, language barrier laugh and I sat down. This flight was one for the record books. The amount of turbulence created an eerie hush amongst the passengers. "Momma! It feels like the plane is broken! It's kind of fun!" Said my innocent, naive 4 year old. As I grabbed my two boys and silently prayed for a safe landing, wherever it may be, the kind young man next to me downed an orange juice. Moments later he motioned for a steward who was seated & strapped in his seat next to the restrooms. The steward must have understood what the young man wanted and reaching with his long arms handed him an airline plastic bag. Motion sickness is no laughing matter, people! Especially if it is near you and the person has just drank their body weight in orange juice and you are in a confined space with recycled air. After my poster child for Dramamine seat partner's stomach finally calmed down, he fell asleep...on me. So, now I am holding my baby and a stranger. I let him sleep. I felt bad for the poor guy. About an hour after the orange juice stomach acid explosion induced nap, we landed. We were in California!

Air we go!

A month after my husband moved to California, newborn baby, 4-year-old earache boy, & momma were given the all clear for flight! The next day, we were headed to the airport. As we pull in to the airport our car was searched at a checkpoint. The nice TSA agents finished quickly & as one was shutting my 4year old’s door, he looked her in the eyes & calmly, matter of factly stated, "I have a gun." *Insert wide eyed emoji* "It's a Nerf dart gun!! I'm so sorry! It's a Nerf dart gun!" I said in an embarrassed panic! Thank goodness she understood and did not take him as a threat! After my dad parked in the short-term parking, I pulled out my Goodwill suitcase. No sooner did I gentle put it down on the garage's floor than it popped open! Seriously? My high quality bargain find can survive a bear attack at Yellowstone, but cannot handle being placed gently on a public driveway when I'm super stressed and in a hurry?! After I crammed everything from baby toys, to diapers, to, yes of course, my dirty clothes (why wouldn't there be embarrassing dirty clothes to fall out?) I began to load myself up in such a way that would put any pack mule to shame. I had a backpack carry-on that weighed, no lie, upwards of 30 pounds, two suitcases (thank God they had wheels), a small carry-on suitcase, diaper bag that rivaled an army ranger's rucksack, and an infant in a car seat in a stroller. Check in and security flew by. By the time we were waiting in line to board I was pitting out with sweat. You CAN do this. The newborn will not scream and cry the whole time and everyone's ears will be just fine. You CAN do this!

Suitcases to earwax, I've got it covered

We now had a place to live. It was time for me to start packing what I could take on the plane and what I couldn't pack up in my car for my husband to drive out at a later date. I needed a big suitcase and since I already had to sell some vital organs and appendages to pay for our deposit on our new home, I decided to go Goodwill hunting. I took my dad along with me as he too is a Goodwill junkie. It was between two amazing suitcases. How did I decide you're wondering? It was simple. One came with a pair of dirty socks and the other had nickel inside and a "I visited Yellowstone National Park" sticker on the outside. Clearly I chose the suitcase that not only survived Yellowstone & I could tell survived was the correct term due to what looked like bear claw marks on the outside, but was also five cents cheaper. When we made our pilgrimage home with our new treasures, my 4 year old informs me in tears that his ears hurt. "Well, crap!" I thought. He'd been struggling with ear infections and a year ago we put tubes on his ears. Well, not "we" as I'm sure that is frowned upon in the medical field, but the ENT doctor did. I quickly booked an appointment for him since we were flying out in three days! We were so close to being a whole family again and this was going to be a major set back. The day before we were to fly out the doctor generously made time to see us. As Doc was looking at his ears he says, "Good news, mom. Tubes have come out naturally and there is no infection!" This statement was followed by his taking what looked like long stemmed scissors and pulling out a small chunk of earwax. I knew Doc felt terrible as soon as my son began sobbing. I went to pay my co-pay and am surprised that the two second earwax removal procedure cost me, out of pocket $85! *insert wide eyed emoji here. I keep telling myself, "It was an $85 payment for piece of mind. You'll be home tomorrow! We fly tomorrow!!"

A Good Place to Start

8 months pregnant sitting in an Arts Integration meeting & I get one of those mysterious, ominous texts from my husband. "Call me when you get this." Is this an emergency or is this, "I'm hungry. What should we have for dinner?" Either way, my buns are asleep & my eyes are getting heavy. I decided to use my pregnancy as an excuse. I excused myself and "went to the bathroom" which is really code for "I'm stepping out to play on my phone." "Kate, how do you feel about living in California? I was just offered a promotion out there!!" Let's do this! Two months later the baby came and three days later my husband moved to California to start his new position. I felt like I was on an episode of "16 & pregnant" as I moved in with my parents' until baby was old enough to fly. I hadn’t lived with my parents since early college and my two sons and I were moving into their three-bedroom house. Add onto that, their house quickly became much like a Griswold house hold as my brother and his family of four, my sister and her family of three all came to spend spring break at my parents house. Insert wide eyed Emoji here! For those who are mathematically challenged that would make a grand total of 12 people whose ages ranged from 5 days to 69 years old living in a three-bedroom house. Let that sink in. Are you good now? Can you handle more? Because we are just getting started. My husband had asked me to start looking for houses he told me to search within a certain price range. I kind of got excited thinking, “We’z movin’ on up! This price range must be an indication of how grand his promotion is!” We were renting a two-bedroom house in a very nice area and thought our price tag of $1600 was pricey. I had major sticker shock as two bedroom apartments were more than 3 times our current rent!! I used everything from CraigsList to the Hotpads app hoping to find a nice cheap place. To all my Midwest friends, “cheap places” do not exist in California! I had always heard that the cost of living was crazy in California, but nothing can prepare you for that like house hunting. After I came to terms with the price tags on the housing and that I would not be a cast member of The Real Housewives of California my search became more real. I would like to stop here and point out yet another difference in the housing market in the Midwest verses California. In the Midwest if you want to rent a place you simply call the owner and express the desire to rent the place. They may or may not want to meet you in person before agreeing then will have you sign a year's lease. The next day you get four of your college buddies or coworkers to help you move in and pay them in copious amounts of beer and pizza. Now, for California. You find a place you like. DO NOT fall in love with it because you will not get it. You will need to fill out an application just to be considered for an interview. Next, the owners, who have already interviewed 25 other people, interview you. If they like you, they will call you back with either another interview or, if you are lucky, a rental agreement! Now, you hire a moving company to move your things out of a storage unit you had to rent because the first few houses you liked you were denied and you have already driven the 3 days in a Uhaul across county and have no place to put your things. How did you get the house that you have now in California, you may be wondering. Glad you asked. We had a very sweet property manager give us an extremely helpful tip. Write a “family letter”. In this family letter, talk about who you are, where you work, what your family is like. Practically sell the idea that your family is an all American family that will not destroy the property. So, that is what we did. I even included our first family photo as a family of four taken in the hospital to really drive home the fact I’m a momma with a newborn. I don’t have time to destroy your house nor would I. To think, I haven’t even physically made it out to California yet and am already seeing so many differences!