Christian's preschool sits on private property, on top of a huge hill with a super long driveway (several hundred feet I'd guess).  Suffice it to say, I feel really comfortable leaving Jackson by himself in the car while I run in to grab Christian.

Why do I leave Jackson in the car?  For several reasons actually and I don't feel like listing them.  What it all boils down to is that it's easier and I'm lazy and I feel the situation is incredibly safe.  Christian's classroom has a window that faces the parking lot, and I park the car in the spot in front of that window.  I lose sight of the car for about 20 seconds total.

I knew there would come a day when I would be confronted about my "horrible parenting", and today was that day:

I park my car in the usual spot, and a mom (who we'll refer to as Nosy Mom henceforth) parks behind me.  I make my way down the steps and push the buzzer to be let in.  I know Nosy Mom is behind me, so when the door pops open, I wait and hold the door open for her.  I can see her staring into Jackson's window as she walks by the car.  By the time she gets to me she twists around again and looks back at Jackson (who I might add is happily munching away on an incredibly unhealthy donut and listening to Christmas music...yes, Christmas music, don't judge).

When she reaches me she asks while laughing (so as not to sound too confrontational), "Is there no one in your car?"  I know what she's getting at but I decide to play dumb, so I respond, "Excuse me?"  She replies with, "In the car with your baby?  There's no one in there?"

At this point I'm annoyed, and I don't hide it.  I roll my eyes and say in a very "omg....please mind your own effing business" kind of way, "He'll be fine, I'll be gone less then 2 minutes."


What I should have said was, "Yes, I'm hoping that in the minute-thirty seconds that I'm gone he'll be kidnapped.  Hubby and I had no idea how expensive a third child would be.  We need to cut back a little, and we've decided that it's the little guy who needs to be cut."

I clock out Christian, walk to his classroom where he runs up to greet me with a huge hug (for being such an awful mother who is constantly putting her children in precarious situations my kids seem to love me a TON).  I ask him to tell his teachers goodbye while I gather up his coat and crafts that he completed that day.  All of this literally takes less than a minute.  Seriously, I timed it.

As we're walking out of his classroom back to my chocolate-faced two year old I see Nosy Mom still clocking out her child.  From my position I can see that Jackson is waiting for me happily, no worse for wear.  What I really want to say to Nosy Mom is, "Oh, would you look at that, he managed to make a whole minute-thirty without self combusting."  What I actually do is grab Christian by the hand and lead him out to the car, because while I'm a huge badass in my head, in reality I hate confrontation.

As parents we weigh the pros and cons of any situation and make a decision that best suits our needs and wants daily.  If Christian were going to any other school in any other location I most likely wouldn't leave Jackson in the car alone, even if it were only for thirty seconds.  As it is, our current situation makes me feel that it is incredibly safe to do so and I will continue to do it.  Just because you (general) wouldn't do the same doesn't mean that you are better then I am, or that you should confront me about it.  It doesn't make you a good citizen or a better mother, it just makes you incredibly annoying.

You know that feeling you get when you visit a new state or city.  That, this is a great place to visit but I wouldn't want to live here feeling?  I fully expected to have these feelings for Chicago.  I fully expected to be ready to leave at the end of my three day stay.

I'm a California girl through and through.  Give me the ocean, give me the beach, give me the sun, give me the hippies.

I was completely shocked when I fell in love with Chicago.  I didn't really want to leave.  In fact, if I could, I would round up my family and move to the Windy City (winters be damned....I'd deal).

I think what I enjoy most about it is how homey it feels.  You're surrounded by brick buildings in an urban environment and yet, it feels like downtown Burlingame.

People are walking their dogs.  Family and friends are sitting outside on patios enjoying breakfast or a newspaper.  Everyone walks everywhere and if it's not walking distance, there's a train or bus that can take you to where you need to go.  And most important, people are friendly.

There were several times this past weekend that the girls and I were walking late at night (or super early in the morning, lol) and I never once felt threatened.  Never once felt like I had to look over my shoulder.  In fact, we once found ourselves in a precarious situation and a super nice guy said that we should think about heading home.

Obviously John and I have familial obligations in California so the likelihood that we'd leave is slim to none, but we can do the next best thing....visit as often as possible.

My trip to Chicago didn't really get off to a great start.  My flight was scheduled to leave at 5 p.m. on Wednesday April 3rd.

I was to leave at 2:30 p.m., pick up John from work, then go and pick up my friend, Kinsie, at her house by 3:00 p.m. so that we could be at the airport by 4:00 p.m.  Had everything gone the way it was suppose to go everything would have been simple and calm.

Unfortunately the universe had other plans.

On the way to Oakland my tire blew out.  It took an hour from the moment it blew to the time John was able to reach me and change the tire (yes, I know the basics on how to change a tire, but I can never get the damn bolts unscrewed).  Long story short....we missed our flight.  We were able to schedule another flight out of SFO at 7 a.m. the following morning (thank you to our dear friend Jen for letting us crash on her couch so we didn't have to drive back home!).

As soon as we got into Chicago we went to Wrigleyville for Opening Day.  It was unlike anything I had ever seen.  Of course, I've never been to an SF Giants home opener so I have nothing to compare it to, but based on the layout of Wrigleyville I'm going to assume that opening day in Chicago is nothing like opening day in San Francisco.

Wrigleyville is comprised of Wrigley Field and a crap ton of bars...that's it.  Yes there was a restaurant thrown in here or there, but those restaurants usually had bars of their own and the bars also served food.  It was like one big party.  I wonder how anything got done in Chicago that day because it looked like most of Chi-town's population was crammed into the couple of blocks that comprised Wrigleyville.

The rest of night included drinks, food, more drinks, a taxi ride or two, some karaoke and more drinks.

One thing I didn't know about Chicago is that a large portion of their restaurants are BYOB.  Apparently liquor licenses are fairly expensive so the restaurants allow patrons to bring their own liquor.  They'll supply the cups and ice, you supply the booze.  It's insane how much cheaper it was on our end as well.  I seriously wish California would consider doing something similar.

The next day's activities included going into downtown and marveling over the architecture of the city, eating some popcorn, visiting the Bean, having some true Chicago deep dish, taking a ton of photos, going to dinner at Publican, enjoying some fabulous food, and dancing until 4 in the morning (didn't actually get to bed until 6).

It was fabulous.

One thing I must mention before closing this entry is the "gangstah" we met on our way back to Missy's neighborhood from downtown Chicago.  First, I must say that I love public transportation.  It's a great place to people watch.  So many different people and personalities, from so many different backgrounds shoved into one place.  I love the diversity.  Every now and then, while riding public transportation, you witness something so off the wall crazy that it will stay with you forever.....this was one of those moments.

Around 5 p.m. on Friday afternoon we decided to call it quits in downtown.  We had a long night ahead of us and wanted a little time to decompress before getting ready.  Instead of taking the train back (which is how we entered the city) we decided to hop on the city bus.  As soon as we got onto the bus I noticed the guy on the right taking up the seats.  Other then the tattoos on his neck and knuckles he looked totally "normal".  I could tell he was agitated the moment we got onto the bus, but everyone has bad days...no harm, no foul.

The girls and I took the seats directly opposite him.  We were chatting about our day when all of a sudden the dude across from us punches the window with his fist.



All talking on the bus ceases.  We're all looking at eachother with the same looks of "what the hell?" and "did that really just happen?" on our faces.  It takes a moment for the awkwardness to pass, but eventually conversations pick up again.

Suddenly out of nowhere, the guy starts talking to Kinsie.  I don't remember how exactly the conversation started or exactly what was said, but I do remember him saying the following things (in no particular order):

-- "If I punched out this window, it wouldn't do anything, right?"
-- "I shouldn't even be taking the bus.  It's my day off, I should be in the streets gang bangin."
-- "......I'm going to punch my brother in the face four times."
-- "I don't normally talk to females."
-- "I'm a straight killah."

He also said something about it being Good Friday.  I dunno....your guess is as good as mine.  I should mention that this "killah" was wearing gold mardi gras beads.  He's obviously a baller on a budget.

The entire time this scene is unfolding, two things are happening:  1)  Kinsie is playing the role of the concerned citizen perfectly.  She fills the awkward silences with, "I'm sorry that happened", and "that sucks".  After the guy says he's going to punch his brother in the face four times she says that she hopes his day gets better.

and 2) I am literally shoving my scarf in my mouth so that I don't laugh out loud.


It is the most ridiculous situation I've been in in a long time, but I know this guy is high on something and getting shot or shivved is low on my list of priorities.  I'm also trying to avoid looking at Camille because I know she's having the same problem as I am.  Luckily the guy gets off the bus a couple of stops later, and we all explode with the laughter that we had been holding.

So long Chicago.  It only took me three days to fall in love with you.  I'll be visiting soon.

Patiently waiting for my next Chicago vacation

Yesterday John's mom was moved from Kaiser to a long term care facility.


This is excellent news since it means that the doctors at Kaiser feel she's stable enough to be transported.  When I heard this news I started to cry, it's certainly a step in the right direction.  We're not out of the woods yet, but I can definitely see the tree line at this point.

She will need 'round the clock care for the rest of her life, so I have no idea how long she'll be in this particular facility.  We're assuming, at this point, that she'll be there indefinitely.  Unless we can find a better place.  Ideally (now that I'm thinking about it), I'd like her to be closer to us so that we can visit more frequently, but we'll have to think about that at a later date.

Please keep Lita in your thoughts and (if you pray) prayers.  She has a long road ahead of her, but she's a fighter, so I know she can get through this, we need all of the positive energy that we can get.

Funny (and near heart attack inducing) story:  Around 11 o'clock last night John and I started getting ready for bed.  I was on the verge of sleep while John was locking up the house.  I woke up the second I heard his phone ring.

My mind raced back to the last time we received a call late at night.  It was the call that told us that Ral had passed (it is also around the time that I got the call that told me my Grandpa had passed).  I lay silent as I hear John talk on the phone.  I heard a quiver in his voice, but he sounded fine.  I could feel my heart rate speed up and jumped out of bed so that I could be there to comfort him just in case the news was bad.

Turns out, it was a person from the care facility getting confirmation on the times and days of Lita's dialysis, definitely not an emergency.  Apparently the guy on the other end of the phone had no idea what he'd just done to my husband.  John told the gentlemen that he needed a minute to collect himself before they could continue on with the phone call.

Note to all nurses/care facility personnel, if you're calling a family late at night to discuss that family's loved one, please let "it's not an emergency" be the first words to leave your mouth.  Generally speaking, nothing but bad news is dispensed in the middle of the night.  Kind of like, "if he's calling you after 10 p.m., he's only calling you for one thing."  Same thing applies in this situation.

Last Saturday Manny had a dentist appointment in San Mateo.  Before the appointment John dropped me off (along with Christian and Jackson) at his parents house to wait.

When I went in to grab Jackson after his afternoon nap I was met with an interesting treat.  The child had his diaper pushed down to his knees and he was peeing on his bed.

You want him to burp?  No.

Sleep through the night?  No.

Take a picture with Santa?  Nope.

Pee and poop on the potty?  No.

Talk to Lola on the phone, eat his vegetables, sit still so that the nice lady can cut his hair without chopping off an ear.....  uh-uh.

Naturally this predisposition to completely buck authority is down right frustrating for me and John.  In the beginning we did timeouts, which turned into threats, and when that didn't work we'd breakdown and start yelling.

However, Manny is the kind of kid that when faced with a combative authority figure, he completely shuts down.  If you wanted him to do something before you yelled at him, he definitely won't be doing it now.  In fact, you'll be lucky to even get him to speak to you.

Where am I going with this?  Trust me, I do have a point....

Manny had baseball practice this past Saturday.  To get the kids warmed up the coach has them play catch, either with a teammate or even their parent if one is present.  Manny was playing catch with John and John accidentally tagged him the chest with the ball.

Manny freaked out and started crying.  John was able to get him to calm down, but Manny didn't want to practice anymore.  In fact, he said he didn't even want to play baseball anymore.  Naturally John got frustrated, and that frustration turned into anger when he couldn't get Manny to practice with the team.  So Manny did the exact opposite of what John wanted, instead of running back out to the practice field, he completely shut down; no talking, no eye contact, no compromise.

Eventually he calmed down and started talking with John.  John apologized for getting angry and everything was right in the world.  That is the great thing about Manny.  Once he's done being mad or scared, all is forgiven.

When he got home he was in good spirits.  I asked him if he was ready for practice on Monday and he said that he was.  I think he'll be scared of the ball for a while, but hopefully he'll be able to overcome it.

Christian had his first Tball practice last night and I really don't even know what to say about it, lol.  In short, it was total chaos.

The coach was a little extremely unprepared.  There was no real direction.  When it came time to batting practice, he kinda just told the kids to stand in the outfield without telling them specifically where to stand.  The boys were spastic, running around with the ball in huge groups (think beginner soccer, but with a baseball).

It reminded me of that scene in Kindergarten Cop when Arnold goes insane after the kids wear him down.



Since the Coach doesn't really know the kids yet, I don't think he felt comfortable reprimanding them.  I understand that the theme behind Tball is to have fun, but there needs to be some order as well.  And the parents who were there just let their kids run amok!  I was flabbergasted, and a little frustrated to be honest.

Last year Manny joined mid-season, right before Opening Day, so we missed all of the pre-season practice shenanigans.  John thinks it was the same way with Manny's team last year (as far as he heard from Coach Mike).  I'm not so sure.

It was obvious that the Coach needed some assistance and as soon as John arrived I told him that if there was any way he could help, he should.  So after practice John volunteered to be an Assistant Coach.  I think I'm more excited about it then he is, lol.
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Oh, and they aren't the Brewers anymore.  Apparently the uniform company messed up and made Cubs shirts instead of Brewers shirts.  So now they're the Cubs!