Model Behavior

Courage - noun. the attitude of facing and dealing with anything recognized as dangerous, difficult, or painful, instead of withdrawing from it; quality of being fearless or brave.

Who wants to be a model - you know, catwalk and all that? I did, at least, while I was in my sophomore year at the University of Florida. Being 5'-6" and 100lbs. isn't going to cut it, at least, that's what I thought ...

Walking across the college campus, a fuschia flier caught my eye on a bulletin board - BSU Presents: A Fall Fashion Show. Tryouts were being held two days later on a Friday night in an on-campus auditorium. I jotted the info down and ran to class. What good luck, I thought. There didn't appear to be any restrictions on height - hooray!

I didn't tell anybody (including my sister) for fear that I would jinx the whole situation. Strutting out of my dorm room on Friday night, I felt pretty sassy - black pants, super high heels, sexy shirt, lots of big hair (this was the '90's), and full make up. I hope I am selected, I think to myself as I approach the auditorium door. I open the door with sweaty palms and enter the room. The door creaks and 1,000 people turn to look at me.

Uh oh, I must be in the wrong place, as I look back at a room of African American men and women. A man on stage smiles and says, "Are you here for the fashion show audition?"

It's at this point that I realize BSU does NOT stand for Boston State University, it stands for Black Student Union. Okay, so a little insight about me, I am not one to shy away from uncomfortable or nerve racking situations. In some ways, I am drawn to them. Put me on an empty dance floor and watch me shine.

"Yes, I am here for the audition."

It went very well and the next day I was called and informed that I was officially in the fashion show with roughly 40 other people. We had rehearsals (almost everything involved choreography) five nights a week, four hours a day, for four weeks before the actual show. Ultimately I was selected for the evening gown, swim suit, and dance sequence (because although I was a white girl, apparently I could shake my booty and represent).

About half way through training for the fasion show, I mentioned my "star" status to one of my siblings, Tulip. I asked her not to tell anyone and I received the promise. The night of the show arrived quickly. While I was sitting on the shoulder of Derrell in a miniscule bikini two-piece swimsuit, waiting for the fashion show to start, I thought it would be nice if I knew someone in the audience. The curtain went up slowly. I kept telling myself, embrace your pasty-whiteness because you are the ONLY one (and I think I am reflecting light). I was wrong.

Tulip had secretly invited 30 of our sorority sisters (go Chi Omega!) to support me. As nervous as I was, I was so grateful for Tulip's support. The night progressed in flashes: my swimsuit riding up into the great unknown, tripping, but catching myself in my evening gown, "shakin' it" during the Janet Jackson "Miss You Much" dance sequence.

What a great night to remember. Could you do it?

How Do You Talk To Squirrels?

Okay, this is a true story (I have many stories like this). I am driving home from the hotel where I previously worked. It is about midnight. As I turn onto the road I live on, I see a small animal in the middle of the road running toward my car lights. Several thoughts run through my mind - why is an animal in the road running toward my car? Why is the animal not afraid? Is it someones pet? What kind of animal is that?

I don't want to hit this animal so I stop in the middle of the road expecting to see movement away from the car. A few moments pass and nothing happens. With the car still running, I open the door and step out. Much to my surprise, this unknown animal jumps on my right foot and looks up at me expectantly. I am staring into the eyes of a baby squirrel, about the size of a softball. I freeze - don't want to hurt it, scare it, or cause it to bite me. Meanwhile it is still perched on my foot looking up at me with large, innocent eyes. In my "frozen" state I have blocked the road both ways. Minutes pass and a car comes towards me and stops in front of my car. A young man jumps out of his car and calls to me, "What's goin' on?"

I explain the situation to him (the squirrel is still contentedly sitting on my foot). The young man offers to help by placing an extra shirt he has in the car on top of the squirrel in an attempt to gently capture the little guy. I intended to take the squirrel to an animal rescue shelter that caters to exotic animals (I have dropped off other animals in the past). As the young man is approaching my car with the shirt, a woman pulls up behind me, stops, opens her door, and yells, "Looks like there's something interesting happening here. Do you need help with something?"

I explained the situation to her and she said, "You will need a box to transport the squirrel. I have one you can take." At this point the young man has collected Squirrel from my shoe and carried the animal filled "knapsack" to the donated box. I thank everyone, run home to show my husband of my "find", and I head out to the 24 hour animal shelter. I end up home around 1:30am completely satisfied with my interesting night, the kindness of strangers, and the end result of adorable Squirrel. He was released to the the nature preserve after two days of care.

Next up ... a couple of days ago my friend, Sassafras, came across four baby bunnies in her yard (each about the size of half a tennis ball), and she asked me to help capture them. The story ended happily and they too are looking at a life of luxury in the nature preserve.

Surrogate Sisters

I live in Maryland. My parents and siblings live in Florida. If I am lucky, I see my sisters and parents one time per year.

Here's the question: If your family isn't nearby, who are the people you most wish to talk to? Who helps you in times of need?

It has taken me 11 years, but I finally have a second family of surrogate sisters. It was a long process, and I was actually starting to give up hope that I would find these highly desired, elusive friendships ... but it happened! Two and a half years ago I started a playgroup with a girlfriend of mine (Kitty). It was not exclusive - in fact, we encouraged our friends to bring other friends. The result: the playgroup is nine mom's strong and we are dedicated to seeing each other weekly. These women know more about me than most of my family. It's no one's fault, it's just the reality of my life. I also have a handful of wonderful girlfriends outside of the playgroup that I can also trust and confide in.

We help take care of each other, and this is important. Being a mom is hard. Although we love our kids and husbands dearly, no one understands the trials and tribulations of the "job" better than other moms. My friends provide my life with love, laughter, support, a shoulder to cry on, the all-necessary gossip, and kindness. I am grateful for every single one of my "sisters"... you know who you are. Thank you for being my friend and Happy Mother's Day.

It's All About The Party

So, I think I have officially recovered from my son's birthday party. For me, a bit of a perfectionist, I spent the previous three weeks sweating over details such as party theme, game selection (I usually create my own games), how to make the best birthday cake, and who is invited to the party. I let my kids decide what kind of cake they desire and then I put on my thinking cap and make it a reality. Last year my son (Lightning) requested a vanilla, lollipop cake with blue frosting. This year the request was for a lemon, vanilla cake with red frosting and green and yellow lightning bolts.

I am also a fan of large parties. This year we hosted 26 kids... next year the party will be smaller. The weather was dicey - ominous all day but no rain (SO lucky). Lesson learned? Have a back up plan in case rain presents itself at the party.

I am not sure what has changed since I was a child. I can count on one hand the number of parties I attended until I was 10 years old. The parties were always at a home and typically they were small. I don't think I ever received a goodie bag. Times have changed - now it's all about the location, the goodie bags, the decor, and the invitees.

As organized as I was for Lightning's birthday party, I still wasn't prepared for :
1) the fact that there would be a 92% child attendance
2) that the weather might, in fact, work against me
3) that with the 92% child attendance, I also had a 92% adult attendance ... which means there were more than 50 people at our home
4) how much fun a party this size can be
5) how many memories one party can create
6) how wonderful it feels to see your child living this "special day"

In reflection, I spent a lot of money on food, prizes, decorations, and game supplies. I labored for 4 weeks and slept very little (but we know this is nothing new). Was it worth it? ABSOLUTELY. At some point, my children will not want this kind of party. Until then I plan on spending my April and May months planning birthday parties.

Speaking of which, my daughter is having a birthday party in three weeks... so I better get planning!

The Happy Husband Phone Call

So, you're at home with your (fill in the blank with appropriate response)__________ (one, two, three, more? You go girl!) kids and you are in the middle of _________________________ (washing dishes, vacuuming, sweeping, sorting clothes, making beds, putting clothes away, folding clothes, playing with your kids, breaking up a fight) when you get "the call."

Let me preface this by saying I love my husband (and my kiddies) very much and I actually do look forward to hearing from him. It is just that some times I am envious of the freedom he has at work (the ability to finish a cup of coffee, eat not only one meal but possibly TWO, go to the bathroom without spectators (including comments such as "good job mommy").

You answer the phone and ________________________ (the dog barks, the kids start fighting, the cat throws up, you put the dog outside, someone falls down, the dog jumps the fence to chase a rabbit, someone knocks on the door to explain that your crazy dog is running up and down the street, someone is pushed down, someone doesn't "make it" to the bathroom, someone turns off the television, someone screams, all of the above).

Your husband pleasantly asks, "How's it going?" This is the Happy Husband Call. He _______________________ (just finished a successful meeting, had breakfast, had lunch, is bored, is procrastinating, is en route to or from work, met up with a client and ate a tasty meal, FINISHED his morning coffee (while it was still hot), interviewed a potential new hire). He is happy, content, satisfied with his job and himself and he wants to share this "warm, fuzzy" with you. Unfortunately (for him), you didn't drink your coffee (or take a shower for that matter), the kids are screaming at each other - then at you, and the dog gets in on the action and starts barking while chasing one of the cats. You think to yourself "I am angry... how dare he eat that bagel and coffee in solitude ... God forbid he went to the bathroom ALONE... I'm so sorry that you had to spend the whole night in a hotel. Yes, I guess things are pretty normal here." You are prepared to give your two weeks notice (great phrase Staci!)

Ever get a phone call like this? Can you relate?

Identity Crisis

How do you classify children of multicultural families? Something to ponder....

I work for Cultural Care Au Pair as a Local Childcare Coordinator. In this role I have started to befriend the au pairs and host families assigned to me. Recently, our family was invited to a Chinese New Year celebration. The crowd was interesting and multicultural and the food was excellent. Our family (including our kids) had a really nice time, and at the end of the day my husband had a discussion with Lightning (our son who is 4.5 years old). My husband is Chinese and the discussion was about Lightning's ethnicity. The conversation went something like this:

"Lightning did you know that you are both American and Chinese?"

Lightning offers a loud belly laugh and says, "No I'm not! I don't speak Chinese."

"Actually, you are. You know that Mama and Papa are Chinese and so am I. This means that both you and Ginger Snap are part Chinese as well. Both of you are also part American, like mommy."

Lightning pauses to take this bit of information in. Then his face lights up and he says, "Yes, yes, I am Chinese! Daddy listen - azul... rojo...uno. I CAN speak Chinese!"

Now it's daddy's turn to laugh.

And so, my son now knows his true identity... or at least most of it. You see, my children are also Dutch (my side of the family). To make things more complicated, although my children are 50% Chinese, we do not celebrate Chinese New Year. However, we DO celebrate the Feast of St. Nick (Dutch Christmas) and the All-American Christmas. Dutch Christmas (we call it "little Christmas") is held on December 6th. So, the month of December is both fun and busy.

So, back to the big question: how do you classify children of multicultural families? In regard to our family I have heard the terms Amerasian and Eurasian. On television a half-Korean, half-American model referred to herself as a "Halfie". Typically on forms, we claim our children to be "Asian/Other". Just for fun, my husband and I decided to create new titles for our children in regard to their ethnicity. Here is what we came up with:

American + Chinese = Americhi

Asian + Dutch = Asdutch

Dutch + Chinese = Duchi

Dutch + Chinese + American = Duchinerican

We finally settled on:

Chinese + American = Chinerican

The truth... our children's ethnicity is not important. The fact is that our children are beautiful, plain and simple and we are lucky to have them.

Any comments?

Is Sleep Really Necessary?

Word of the day: frenetic- adj. frantic; frenzied.
Is sleep really necessary? I have tested this theory, and yes, it does appear that a person needs to sleep. Wouldn't we all be much more productive without sleep? Where some people "hit a wall" at a certain late night time, I seem to keep on being productive (which is why I continue to do it).

I tracked my time last week and I slept an average of 5.5 hours per night (two nights I slept less than 4 hours). It must be mentioned that even though I LOVE to sleep, it appears that I enjoy being awake even more. A typical day consists of waking up around 8 AM (unless I run or exercise - then it's around 7 AM), making breakfast, breaking up endless arguments between Ginger Snap (my daughter) and Lightning (my son), doing laundry, washing dishes, and getting dressed. Then we have lunch and I rush Lightning off to afternoon school. Ginger Snap and I run errands and then we pick up Lightning at 3PM. Usually we have an after school playdate followed by dinner preparation, baths, and a bedtime story. Once the kids are in bed I either clean up toys, fold more laundry, wash more dishes, write bills, balance the checkbook, work on my picture book manuscript (did I mention that I'm trying to write a book?), create a new post for my Blog, or spend time on my job. Yes, I also work full-time for an au pair company, Cultural Care Au Pair, as a Local Childcare Coordinator. It is my responsibility to stay in touch with my au pairs and my families, meet monthly with the au pairs, organize host family events, and maintain State Department Regulations. So, I am quite busy. It's easy to see why I stay up late, and often, my husband stays up with me. We usually go to bed around 2 AM.

What is my point? Well, I don't think there necessarily is a point. I am tired and it is my own fault.

A funny thing about lack of sleep - it makes you stupid which can be funny (in hindsight). Over the past weekend my husband and I painted the living room. The color which we thought was a "rich yellow" in the can, looked a lot like a banana, or a pineapple, or a sports car, or the sun, or a canary, or the McDonald's arches on the walls. So on Monday a girlfriend of mine (who knew about our painting woes) asked me how the 'painting was going'. Working with 3.75 hours of sleep, I desperately tried to remember which painting I was working on -a portrait? an abstract? I don't remember what I said, but the look on her face indicated that my answer made no sense. Needless to say, I felt like a huge dork.

Do other people stay up late? How much sleep do you get? I wish I was more productive during the day... sigh :-).