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Today is Father's Day. Yesterday, we lost my grandpa. This Wednesday would have been his 84th birthday. His obituary says that he was born in 1927, served in the Navy from 1944 to 1946, married my grandmother in 1952, had seven kids and worked at the same place for over 30 years before retiring in 1989. All of this is true. But standard obits (true confession: I'm an obituary reader) leave out all the good stuff. Like he was a good son and brother and fiercely loyal friend over decades. His Navy stint? Came after he dropped out of high school to enlist at barely 17. He went to the Pacific theater of World War II and returned home nine months after V-J day, re-enrolled in high school and finished. He lived for over twenty years in the house next door to his in-laws. And that house held seven kids, two adults in three bedrooms and one bathroom. The obit leaves out the fact that he worked very hard as a welder and in the maintenance department at the same foundry that his father w

Scene: Sunday night. Mother putting away clean laundry in oldest son's bedroom at bedtime. Son brushing his teeth, then putting on pajamas. ----------------------------------------- Son: Mom, what if you were a spy? Mother: How do you know I'm not? (Brief silence while son ponders the possibility.) Son: Well, you're not agile or flexible enough. Mother (trying not to laugh out loud): How do you know? A good spy hides her special skills. (Another brief silence while son again ponders the possibility.) Son: Do a backbend. (Brief silence while mother remembers a time she could do a backbend.) Mother: Gotta keep some secrets to myself...Good night, small friend.

My oldest needed a photo of a military veteran to whom he is related for a school music project called "Our Heroes" this week. I was able to quickly put my hands on the photo I wanted (big thanks to my aunt). My grandpa. As an unexpected treat, she sent along these two as well: I can see my white-haired, rotund grandpa in the face of that young sailor. And I know that the story of this day, the day in the photos, is still probably fresh in his mind. And the days that followed as he boarded a ship at the end of the war. And I wish that I had been smart enough to ask him about those days when his mouth and tongue and voice could still form the words to share those stories without stumbling, slow, frustrating effort. How is it that three photos can make me smile, make my heart swell with happiness, make me mad, bring a lump to my throat and make tears pool in the corner of my eyes? All at once? Love you, Grandpa. You will be G's hero.

In honor of Valentine's Day (a holiday, I am convinced, was created to make mothers of elementary schoolers crazy), a few things I love: my baby's wild hair and strong chin the way my other baby winks my girl's enormous eyes my oldest son's labrador-thick hair and crazy big-boy-teeth my husband Coke the smell of hazelnut coffee chocolate Necco wafers roasted garlic hummus sushi history museums movies made from Jane Austen novels And bad reality TV Have a love-ly weekend.

For the last two years, on December 31st, I have written in a family journal about our year. Our ages, our visitors, our trips, the kids' teachers' names, their activities, our jobs, our cars, our favorite restaurants and the like. I'll do it again tonight. And everyone will sign their name to our little family history. So, I wasn't going to recap the year here - but then I saw all the other blogs doing it. And recapping the decade while they were at it. So, of course, I couldn't resist. 2009 was, well, interesting. I wouldn't call it great. Parts of it really sucked. But I think, when we look back at it in a year or two, we might identify it as the start of good times. I hope so at least. The year: * J's company shut the doors and he took about four months off of work. Which means he was home with us all day, every day for four months. And we're still married. Win! * He started with a brand spankin' new company at the end of July in a huge leap of f

You know, on Facebook, the relationship setting "It's Complicated"? I generally see people use it for comic effect. A few use it as an earnest description of their situation. I'm not sure exactly why, when you can choose to not list a relationship status entirely. Whatever. "It's Complicated" is an apt description of where I'm "from" though. I generally describe myself as "from" Kansas City. My father was born and raised here. My mother was born and raised just about an hour north of here. I lived in the Kansas City metro (or in Atchison, the aforementioned hometown of my mom) from infancy until nursery school, then again from first grade to second grade and then from ninth grade until now (with seven years of college and law school thrown in there somewhere). Most of my family is here in Kansas City. Even when my family lived elsewhere during my childhood, we visited Kansas City. My childhood summer memories are of the Kansas Cit

J and I had date night tonight. He really wanted to see a movie - so we found a sitter, bought some tickets online and set out. We left a bit early, too early to go to the theater. So, I suggested we stop for a beer. He said "No, let's find a bookstore." Huh? Bookstores are my gig. He makes fun of me for wanting to spend even part of an evening out poking around a bookstore. But, whatever. It was nice. We headed to the theater a while later. Got our tickets to see The Blind Side (which was good despite Sandra Bullock's blonde hair and Tim McGraw's hair piece) and waded through the lobby full of angsty New Moon -awaiting teenagers to theater 17. Which was fairly full. We managed to find two seats next to a family: parents and two teenage boys. While waiting for the movie to start, I noticed the kid next to me get a text on his phone. Being the inherently nosy person I am, I sideways-glanced to read the text. I missed the incoming text but got to read the response.

* This one's goin' out to Amy in Delray Beach... Step 1 - Watch this video (You'll have to click the link because the owners of the video apparently don't allow embedding. Total jackasses.) but - VERY IMPORTANT - fast-forward to the 21 second mark and watch to the end. Everything before then is ridiculous and stupid. Step 2 - Repeat. As many times as your mood requires. There you go. Enjoy. sigh...I caught this during a football game this weekend on TV and had the vapors for about 20 minutes. (I just can't believe he went to freaking Mizzou)

My husband and I were lucky enough to get away for four days this past weekend. San Francisco. Our ten-year anniversary. We had a good time. It was nice to be kid-less for a few days. It was nice to sleep in and take naps. It was nice to explore a city we've never visited. And to eat and drink non-stop. But mostly, it was nice to spend four whole days with the person I chose to share my life's journey with. I'm not generally a sappy person but, hey, ten years. I am very lucky to have found this man. We're not perfect. But it works. I love him more today than I did the day I married him. We're a good team. We understand each other. We enjoy each other. And, the craziness of every day life can obscure that sometimes. But we do a pretty good job of recharging - even just by going on a date from time to time. This weekend was a solid recharge. One funny thing we did this weekend: I found the notebooks we wrote in during our Engaged Encounter weekend ten years ago. I pac

I had a great conversation with the mom of one of M's classmates the other night. Mom-mom relationships are an interesting thing. Lots of judging (or at least, perceived judging) over in the elementary-school-mom-social-scene. Rah-rah moms, moms who seem to live at the gym, moms that look a little too perfect. (See? Me. Judging.) Anyway, M's friend's mom and I had a real conversation. About being frustrated with kids. About yelling. About trying not to swear in front of the kids. I know these parents are involved with their kids and have fun with their kids and adore their kids. But it was refreshing to hear another mom talk about the same daily frustrations and lost tempers as happen at our house. A little bit of validation goes a long way. (Not that I don't still wish that I handled my frustrations better - but I'm gonna try to stop laying a guilt trip at my own feet.) I think we all put on some sort of facade to strangers and acquaintances. And it's nice when

Dear Walmarts: The cost/benefit ratio can't be favorable to you. When a mother of toddler(s) walks into your gargantuan "super" store and is immediately confronted with a coin-operated kiddie car, are many really stopping to pump it full of quarters before continuing with their shopping extravaganza? I quit you once before because of this. About five years ago. G was 2. The Mickey Mouse car at the entrance caused me to lose my shit in front of the poor, kind, retired greeter. As I dragged my screaming child out of your store by his armpit, pushing the shopping cart containing one-year-old M precariously with one hand, I believe I said something along the lines of "I will NEVER come back to this fucking store until all of the goddamn kiddie rides and vending machines are GONE!" My boycott lasted a little while. I stuck to my guns for about a year if I recall correctly. And the kids grew and I forgot and forgave. Until today. At one of your "super" store

Okay, so I'm really procrastinating from doing work but I'm curious. Do you have a "List"? Do you remember the episode of Friends in which everyone talks about their freebie list? The internets tell me that the episode was called "The One with Frank Jr." and Chandler's explanation went like this: Chandler : Well, we have a deal where we each get to pick five different celebrities that we can sleep with, and the other one can't get mad. Ross : Ah, the heart of every healthy relationship: Honesty, respect, and sex with celebrities. Monica : So, Chandler... who's on your list? Chandler : Uh, Kim Basinger, Cindy Crawford, Halle Berry, Yasmine Bleeth, and, ah, Jessica Rabbit. Because I know you're dying to know, I think my list is - Paul Rudd, Jon Hamm, Dana White, Stellan Skarsgard, and...I'm not totally sure on the last one. I'd also probably equally enjoy just hanging out with any of them. Okay, "equally" might be a ridiculous

As you may remember, I took the kids to Omaha last week for a short adventure. That adventure included SEVEN hours at the zoo, one hour at the hotel pool, three hours at the children's museum, $30 in in-room kids' movies at the hotel, two breakfast buffets and one panic stricken moment in which my youngest child disappeared and was discovered a few minutes later in a glass elevator on the fourth floor. More on that later though. The only thing that was on my own, personal agenda for the Omaha trip was some genealogy scouting. I may have mentioned before that I have had periodic genealogy obsessions over the last ten years or so. Actually, my obsession began much earlier with the "family tree" assignment we received in sixth grade but the internet made things much easier. So, our first non-dial-up internet connection in 1998 spawned my current genealogy addiction. Anyway. Omaha. My paternal grandfather's grandparents immigrated to America from Ireland at some point

Back in February, I volunteered to organize my 20 year high school reunion. In hindsight, I have no earthly idea why. But I did. People wanted it to be held in the summertime so I frantically began planning and trying to track down 325 people on the internet. The planning process was stressful and created much anxiety for me. I took every "no" RSVP as a personal affront. Stupid, I know. So, two weekends ago was reunion weekend. The turnout was pretty good. And those who did attend appeared to have a great time. I was amazed at a few things. First - I have only truly kept up with three people from high school. The rest of my high school friends, I haven't really seen in about 20 years. And, at least for one weekend, I really enjoyed seeing those old friends and we all fell immediately back into a comfortable friendship despite the years. That shared history - however long ago - was enough. Even when the topic of conversation wasn't "remember when...". It was

I took my big kids to Union Station today to see the Narnia exhibit. I posted about the exhibit over at KCKidsFun - click here to see some cute video of the kids. We had lunch at the Harvey House Diner, with milkshakes of course. Then we walked The Link from Union Station to Crown Center to see the LEGO exhibit, which was pretty cool (though smaller than I expected). And then we stopped at the toy store. Didn't buy anything but I enjoyed watching them roam the store more than anything else we did all day.

I owe some people some writing. Two different clients. My business partner. My own blogs. But somehow Facebook, Twitter, my email, my Google Reader and the news all seem so much more important. Except they're not and I'm just constantly making my life more difficult by procrastinating. It's my way. So, I owe you people a post. I've got some pictures I could throw up here. I can't take the time though - I'll just tease you with this: I have a tiny green inchworm living on some fresh-picked wildflowers on my kitchen counter right now. His name is Mark. He is apparently our new family pet. More on Mark later. Give me a few days. I'll post some photos. And I've got a post ruminating in my noggin about my upcoming high school reunion. Twenty years, folks. Holy crap. And I'm the idiot who agreed to organize the thing. More later. Much to write...

My people. A whole afternoon with just my five favorite people. (And the animals and other freaks at the zoo.)

I just realized that I started this blog two years ago this week! June 2, 2007. This blog started on a whim, to serve as a diary of the funny things my children do and say. I barely knew how blogs worked when I started. And now, two years later, I write (much of it, blogging) for a (part-time) living. Okay, "living" might be stretching it - let's leave it at supplemental income... I'm blessed to be able to do this from home with the flexibility to be with my kids. I'm blessed by a husband who thinks that my total web-geekiness is kinda cool. (Who knew HTML and CSS were sexy?) Thanks to those who read my thoughts here and elsewhere. I hope I've entertained you in some small way and I hope you'll stick around for another year. (As my toddlers start talking more and more, the material for this blog will be bountiful...stay tuned.)

It's Memorial Day Weekend, which for many means an annual trip to the cemetery to honor lost relatives and friends. But I'd never done that before today. My mother invited my grandmother to church this morning and then offered to take her to the gravesite of her (my grandmother's) parents because she hadn't been in quite some time. So, my two older kids and I tagged along after Mass. I'm a history major and a genealogy buff so cemetery visits are really right up my alley, as morbid as that sounds. And an old cemetery? All the better. My great-grandparents are buried in a Kansas City cemetery, a portion of which dates to the Civil War (most of it was "populated" after the 1920's though). We visited them as well as the graves of my great-great aunt and her son - all gone since the '40s and '50s. The kids and I walked a good bit inside the cemetery grounds, talking about graves and names and soldiers and cemeteries. And a little bit about death an

I've been watching women bloggers (some mommybloggers and some not) fight on Twitter and in their blogs over the last few weeks about product reviews* and transparency and advertising and whatnot. I get it. I understand the positions. I'm tired of reading about it. I'm hoping we're about done with the whole topic. Move on. The thing is, though, there will just be a new topic to fight about a few weeks from now. Another reason for us to decide to rip into each other, get offended and pissed off, write angry posts and fire off insulting Tweets. Why is it that some women on the internet (and, I know, in real life) just can't get along? Why the constant tearing-down of others? Does it really make you feel that much better about yourself? I was talking last weekend with a writer who writes for a prominent national political blog and she mentioned that their commenters are often very clique-y and territorial. And I get that. It's politics. Positions, debates and passi