Where are you from?

This is a question I’ve never been able to answer. I remember hanging out with friends in my school’s library when I was a teenager and feeling like I had to pick somewhere. In some visceral manner, being from somewhere is important.

At the time I was living in Monrovia, Liberia. My family was moving to Olympia, Washington in a few months. This place was where I would complete high school. I had lived there before when I attended kindergarten and first grade. I was returning somewhere, something I’d never done before. I was always going: Alaska, Michigan, Virginia, Saudi Arabia, Tennessee, and Liberia. Returning was something new. I thought this must be what it feels like to go home.

As an adult I’ve put a few more miles underneath my feet. Like my parents did with me, I too have packed up my belongings and guided my family to various locales. California, Egypt, the Philippines, Washington, Idaho, Indonesia, and now Canada. And my answer to where I’m from has changed.

Southern California is where I’ve actually lived the longest. Seven whole years in small little Yucaipa, nestled in the foothills of the dessert. I had a commercial break during that time, - moving to Indonesia so my husband could work for an NGO (Catholic Relief Services) -  but that year spent in Indonesia was always something I knew would be temporary; our entire household was packed in a local storage facility. We had to come home simply to get our stuff.

You plant roots through your children. And with five children who have attended seven different schools in Yucaipa and are very active in sports, we’ve planted some very solid roots.

Besides my college friends (Hi Super Pod!), the friends I have here in Yucaipa I have known for a longest. The wonderful thing about traveling means that you have friends spread throughout the world. But these friends in Yucaipa I have worked with, dined with, commiserated over babies with, and feel like they are the ones I go to when I need help.

And these friends I met through my workplace, in some form or fashion. I think it’s kind of Freudian that I have a yearning to call a location my home, and I work at a company that specializes in geography.

My work is a giant tether to this sunny place. I’ve been at this company for 20 years. I love what I do and the incredible independence I have. I don’t take it for granted. It took me about five resumes before someone picked up a phone and called me. Then, a whole lot of persuading until I was actually hired.

The company is a proving ground to find your inner guts. You need to find the perfect balance of collaboration and Survivor Island techniques to stay afloat and relevant. I think all high tech companies have a little bit of that in them – they are full of bright people trying to think of the next big thing. It’s an environment I relish. My favorite joke is that every time I step on campus, the collective I.Q. level goes down.

And while this company has employees all over the world, and has allowed me to work in some pretty interesting places, it is headquartered here in Southern California. You basically roll down the hill from Yucaipa and you’re there.

So, this is home. This is where I’m from.

I don’t know why it matters so much to me right now. The need to be able to answer the question “Where are you from?” It could be the fact that at work we are working on a big campaign and this was one of the questions we asked the people being interviewed. We had a long discussion on which answer was most appropriate to ask – where are from, where do you live, or where do you work? We decided that ‘where are you from?’ was the question with the most meaning. And I’d have to agree.

So, it is with some serious sadness that I dust off this blog and say good bye – for a while – to the place that I’m from. And I want to thank the people who helped us out in the transition. The hubster was gone for the most part from April until we met again in Canada at the end of July. Let me tell you, there is no natural act that would have gotten my five kids and me to Canada without some serious intervention. It takes a big village, people.

So,..an enormous thank you to:

My amazing friends.

Especially Wendy for driving my boys to and from summer camp early – with 2 year old twins in tow. And housing us for a week.

Gab for hosting my girls so they wouldn’t mistakenly get packed in a big box.

Beth for driving an hour round trip from work just to deliver a six pack of beer to keep me sane.

Amazing teachers and coaches.

To Coach Price at Yucaipa High School for mentoring my 15 year old and taking the time to let us and him know what a great kid he is, and for creating one of the BEST football progams in Southern California. Not that I'm biased.

All the teachers at Ridgeview who expressed their sadness at losing our family

To Mrs. Geusen for the Barnes and Noble gift card – what teacher gives a parent a thank you present?

Awesome colleagues at work.

Especially my boss Robin and my team lead Emily for not judging me as I cried like a baby when I explained I was moving and felt terrified I might lose something that had defined me for two decades.

And of course, the owners of my company,Jack and Laura for trusting me once again, as I trek to a new location.

And a HUGE thank you to family who hosted hormonal me, five kids and two large dogs for a month. Whether you liked it (or knew it) or not!

So,.. here is to the next journey – Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. I guess I still have children and will travel.

Fire

Welcome to the Sports Center,.. Proceed with Caution

There are all sorts of news stories and public service announcements talking about getting outside and playing with your children. With childhood obesity on the rise –the CDC reports that since 1980, obesity prevalence among children and adolescents has almost tripled – it is important to make moving and exercising fun. But I am here to provide an important PSA directed specifically toward you: you are no longer the spring chicken you think you are.

I am all for putting down that electronic device you are addicted to (and you know you are) and playing with your kids. But let me offer you the 10 rules for playing with your children:

10. If your child is the quarterback of his football team and he asks you to play catch; don’t. The work lost by jamming all your fingers as you attempt to grab that little rocket is too expensive at your age. You need all those productive work days in order to pay for that little cherub’s college.

9. When playing Twister, if the move to put your ‘left hand on yellow’ requires you to contort in such a way that you can’t tell your hands from your feet, gracefully bow out. Believe me, between all the vegetables and ground sirloin in your freezer, you don’t have room for those big ice packs your physical therapist is going to require you to use at home in between sessions.

8. Monkey bars? This is a perfect opportunity for ‘do as I say, not as I do,’ unless you want to have double jointed shoulders for the remainder of your adult life.

7. If you think that ‘double under’ refers to your chin and not a jump rope; please don’t attempt any rope jumping at home alone. You will require a spotter.

6. If your youngster is calling you a ‘wuss’ for not trying to balance on a floatable board on a swell of water on anything other than your belly, smile politely and sit your butt right back down on that towel.

5. Same thing goes for boards that move on concrete. Do I need to say concrete one more time?

4. Do you know when a diamond is not a girl’s best friend? When the girl is pushing forty, they are black and they come in multiples. This is a time when more is not necessarily better.

3. Trying to return any sort of ball with your head is not encouraged. Children’s brains do not fully develop until they are well out of their teens. I think this began with the prevalence of soccer.

2. If the last time you went roller skating it was referred to as er,.. roller skating and you needed a key, take it slow.

1. Proceed with caution when taking your high schooler to the gym. Exercises don’t always match their names. For example, cutely named ‘jumpies’ and ‘burpies’ aren’t quite so cute after you’ve survived 50 of them. However, other exercises, like ‘suicides’ are exactly as they sound.

Other than that, tie up those shoes, put on those knee pads, pop some Advil and have fun!

Full of Thanks

November is the month many people take time to think of what they are grateful for in their lives. The latest phenomenon is updating Facebook statuses every day with something that has made the person posting full of gratitude.

I’m not that organized. My first post of the month was something about giving a shout out to the employees at Home Depot for not pretending I was invisible. This is what usually happens when I venture into the cavernous maw of that store. Honestly, I can’t think of anything more boring to shop for than home improvement items, so I spend as little time as I can in those kinds of establishments. Probably because while I always knew I didn’t have a green thumb, in my maturity (okay, old age), I also realize I do not have a home improvement thumb, either.

However, for this trip I was looking for seeds for a kindergarten science lesson. Not only did the friendly employee help me find some big seeds that little five year old fingers could deftly plant in a paper cup, he pointed out an easy care shrub. I made a pact with myself that if I could keep the shrub alive for a month, it was a sign that my aptitude for homecare was changing and I might venture on to a flowering plant, vegetables, or even a home project.

Well, it’s almost a month later and the shrub is still alive! I am considering this my Grandma Moses moment – she didn’t start painting until she was in her 90’s. I even have a few decades on her for my personal revelation. So, shout out to you Home Depot.

The next day, I believe I posted that I was thankful it was no longer October. That is because after a month of scary movies, scary pumpkin patches, and scary decorations everywhere, I had reached my scary limit. I realized this after I spent a half hour trying to prod a Barbie car into the bathroom with an extended light saber. You see, there was a long, dark leg peeking out from behind the console in the car. My mind extrapolated how big the body would have to be of whatever mutant spider was attached to that leg, and I tell you, it was as big as my German Shepherd.

Once I had maneuvered the car into the bathroom, I had to muster up the courage to actually touch the Barbie car in order to put it into the bathtub. Then, I had to muster up more courage to turn on the shower water – but I had visions of the very large spider leaping out and attacking me.

After five more minutes of deep breathing and trying to look cool, calm and collected in front of my three year old, I turned on the water. I waited for the Barbie car to fill and flood, killing the mutant spider. You know that saying – you learn something new every day? Well, it’s true. I learned that Barbie cars don’t hold water. After about five minutes of soaking that car in a boiling hot shower, the water level never got above the white plastic seats.

Even though the Barbie car didn’t flood, about five more minutes passed and I was sure the spider was dead. The beast’s leg bobbed up and down, but didn’t move. I must have scalded the thing to death. Now was the time for me to meet it face to face, but I didn’t even want to see its lifeless form. Until this moment, I thought I only had an irrational fear of dentists and heights. Now I know I am also deathly afraid of spiders.

Taking the light saber, I removed the dripping car from the bathtub. Carefully, slowly I lifted the front end of the car up, so the drowned spider would tumble forward into my view. Do you know what came sliding out onto the bathmat? It was a spider alright - a plastic Halloween spider ring. I had wasted 45 minutes and given myself heart palpitations from stress – all from doing battle with a plastic Halloween spider ring. So, once I finally disposed of the ring, I gave thanks that I could put my frazzled nerves to rest until the next year’s Halloween activities.

The third day of November, I think I gave thanks that I could react quickly to parenting situations. Like when I decided against leaving my five- and three- year olds girls unattended for a few minutes in their room while I did laundry, after hearing a conversation that required them to say the words “dog” and “makeup” in the same sentence.

On the fourth day of giving thanks, I gave a silent high five to the universe for being a safety net to my own stupidity as I try to raise five kids. Our family was gathered– all seven of us – in the T.V. room. I had a glow about me as I surveyed my brood – together and cozy. My husband was reading a book to the little girls. My oldest two sons were glued to a football game. My middle boy was watching a Netflix movie on my iPad. I was updating my Facebook status.

Then my middle son ripped out his earbuds and exclaimed,” That was the best movie EVER!”
It was at this moment I realized that even though I was no more than eight feet away from my kid, I had no idea what he had been watching.

Afraid to ask, but knowing I should, I posed him the question: “What movie were you watching?”

He responded, very excited, “Beavers!”

I think I was a little ashen when I asked, “Uhm, was it about animals?”

Thankfully it was and I vowed never again to not flex my full parental rights before a person under the age of 18 used any device in my house again.

Those four days about ended my stamina for being thankful. Thirty days of thankfulness? I think I’ll stick to just the twelve days of Christmas, thank you very much.

Earthquake,.. on the East Coast?!

Yes, it's true. We Californians like to share, I guess. Did you know that one of North America's biggest earthquakes actually occurred on the Mississippi River in the early 1800's? So this is not unprecedented, although unexpected.

I love this map, which includes what we call 'authoritative' data sources (from USGS data feeds and others - agencies that are responsible for tracking this type of information and we know we can rely on) and then data from the general public - you really get a sense of how strong the liquifaction of this quake was (so much soil on the East coast! Not as much rock as we Californians have) and how far away it was felt. Seeing information in geographic space can give you a better sense of an event, a deeper understanding of what happened.

Monday already?

Father Robert Joerger, Debbie Philips, Father Edward Beck. Picture taken from Philips' blog.

Seems so, so I'll just send you directly over here to read a nice blog post to get you through today and many days to come - inspiring words from Father Edward Beck, a Passionist Priest in New York from a retreat he gave on Martha's Vineyard. Rob and I first met Father Edward at a retreat he gave at our Church. We are able to visit him periodically, primarily when he comes to the West Coast, but this past summer we bugged both him and Father Robert over in New York.

River Rats

Our awesome home away from home! Yep, we had the double wide and we wore it well!

Seriously, the only thing I can focus on in this picture is that Froshy is really getting close to being even with me. Yipes.

Yeah, they look ready for bed, right? I don't think they can get any blonder without being dayglo colored.

I actually look... relaxed! Could it be because of no wifi or cell phone towers anywhere? Brown beast is peering over my shoulder.

Parker Dam, where we'd zoom to, cut the engine and fling small, life jacketed bodies out of the boat and into the river. I flund myself in as well, to keep the small ones from drifting far, far away.

Collecting river shells on the shore.

This is what summer time is all about! We had such a great time! Besides the sand bar incident. And the bouy incident. I didn't mind falling off the seadoos a few times. And I survived Froshy driving me into every wake imaginable when it was his turn on the 'watery-vehicle-of-death.'