favorite thing friday

Continuing with the theme of favorite things to have on a camping trip, I proudly introduce the Rolla Roaster.

This is an ingenious contraption that in my opinion is a necessity if one is to have perfectly roasted hot dogs and marshmallows while in the field.

Alright, maybe it's not a necessity - because a stick would work perfectly well, but the Rolla Roaster is a fun little gadget to have. It's definitely an excellent conversation piece whenever you're on a camping trip and you're elegantly roasting your dinner and dessert as your fellow campers are scrounging around the ground for a suitable stick.

Not only does the stainless steel roasting fork telescope to approximately 3.5 feet, there's a dial by the thumb so all you need to do is move your thumb and the whole roasting fork rotates. Those opposable joints come in handy ALL THE TIME.

You don't even need to move your wrist!

They can be purchased here or here or here or maybe even at your local outdoor store.

With a Rolla Roaster, you will be the envy of camp.

Especially if you pick them up in assorted colors.

Fondue, anyone?

we may not be able to tell an oval from a diamond but at least we're polite

(I do not know WHY this post that I published yesterday was deleted. But it was. And it isn't the first time posts that I've written and published have vanished in to my draft folder only to show up again, partially written with all pictures deleted. And yet the comments are still there? It makes no sense. I think my computer might be haunted.)

Although we've communicated to my company that we will be moving to Virginia later this year, at the moment there is a lot of uncertainty at our house. So much in fact, that until such time that a moving truck actually arrives and carts us away, I'm not entirely convinced that we're going anywhere.

As such, this morning the children had their kindergarten pre-assessment at the school where we enrolled them last month, and which they would begin in July, if we're still here.

(Carolyn was so excited that she ambushed my makeup drawer and put on lipstick for the big event. I think it compliments the milk from her cereal quite well.)

Because the school is just down the street from our house, Charlie and I walked while the children joyously skipped ahead and collected flowers. It was a lovely day. Absolutely perfect in every way and I imagined that this is exactly what it would be like once the school year began.

Once we arrived on the school grounds, Charlie stayed outside with Henry and I took the triplets inside to have their individual assessments which were anticipated to take approximately 15 minutes, each.

While his sisters played quietly nearby, William went first.

He could easily count to thirty. He recognized all of his numbers except those pesky teens. But once he got started with thirteen, fourteen ... he was able to blaze through the rest. He knew all of his letters, both capital and small and was able to sound them all out. He also was able to sort numbers in ascending order and match the number of objects with the actual value. He recognized his shapes. Well, he recognized a circle. He thought a triangle was a rectangle, a rectangle was a square, a square was an oval and a diamond was a kite.

While they were working on shapes, William had one weary eye on his teacher and while shaking his finger would ask, "Are you trying to trick me? Are you trying to throw some tricky stuff in here just to mix me up?"

Then it was Carolyn's turn.

She also easily counted to thirty. She recognized her numbers up to 10. She knew all of her letters, except more than half of the lower case. She was able to sort numbers, match objects with values and knew all of her shapes. At least twice, she put her head down on the desk and said, "I've had enough of school. This really isn't very much fun for me."

Then it was Elizabeth's turn.

Less than two minutes in to her assessment, she put her head down and said, "I don't want to do this anymore." I tried to encourage her that when she was done we'd go home and have lunch. We'd run through the sprinklers. We'd go to the zoo. We'd do whatever she wanted if she'd just ANSWER THE QUESTIONS.

She very sweetly declined by saying that she was hungry, tired, hot, cold, needed a nap, had something in her shoe, needed to finish her taxes and track down a receipt for dependent care flexible spending, and LOOK there's a boo-boo on her finger!!

The teacher suggested we take a quick break while another student, who had been patiently waiting, complete their pre-assessment. As the new student came in and settled herself down next to the teacher, we ran outside and chased a ball, attempted to do a hulu hoop and then stood in stunned disbelief when a little boy, who was out for recess on the playground, wandered up to us and eyeing Henry said, "I like to think EVIL thoughts and I want to KILL YOUR BABY."

Charlie dropped down to his eye level and said something about handcuffs and jail and the boy quickly changed the subject to how much he loved potato chips.

I took Elizabeth back inside and resumed the hot seat. She could count to thirteen. She didn't know her shapes. Didn't know any of her lower case letters, except "o" and was unable to quantify any objects.

Meanwhile, imagine me, standing to the side watching all of this, with an alarmed look on my face. Our kids know their numbers and letters and shapes and sounds. We work with them on this stuff ALL THE TIME.

Or so I thought?

Whatever thoughts I had were totally drowned out by the voice in my head that was shouting, "You have failed your children!! This is a sign of things to come!!"

Oh good heavens. Why did I ever agree to return to work full-time?! Why did I take them out of Montessori?! Why did I think we could do this teaching stuff at home?!

Charlie is absolutely fantastic with the kids, but he does not work with them on school things as much as I do. Or the way I do. He has an altogether different technique - which is wonderful - except for when you're sitting in a classroom and their future teacher is quizzing them.

Unfortunately, the teacher didn't have a single question about dinosaurs or meteorology or the difference between phaneritic and aphanitic, clay or silt. Because if she had, our children would have nailed it.

There is no doubt in my mind.

After another few minutes passed, the teacher could tell that Elizabeth wasn't engaged - nor would she become engaged - and she asked if I'd be interested to set up another assessment period? I wasn't. Because I feel confident that somewhere, deep down, my daughter knows. And if she doesn't, she'll learn.

This is just kindergarten, after all ... right??

As we were packing up our dignity things to leave, a little boy walked in for his pre-assessment. He was sporting a collared shirt with a big logo from one of the premier preschools in town. As he takes his seat next to the teacher, on his mother's lap, he crosses his arms, sticks out his tongue and scowls, "I don't like YOU. I don't like this PLACE. I'm not doing NUTTIN and YOU CAN'T MAKE ME."

While the teacher gave the boy a forced smile, the mother looked horrified. If it hadn't been totally inappropriate, I might have run over and planted a big kiss on the mother's cheek.

Sister, you're not alone.

what's in you wednesday

We have a friend, Helen, who died three months ago at the age of 101.



Well in to her 90's, Helen was competing in - and winning - several swimming titles in the Senior Olympics. The last time I saw Helen, she was 95 years old. Charlie and I went to her home for dinner and to illustrate how she starts off her day, she pushed her chair back - and in between salad bites - dropped to the floor and started doing push-ups. Then, she flipped over and started doing sit-ups before standing up and doing a few leg lunges.

Charlie and I watched this nearly-a-centenarian-woman who had more zest than either of us combined, in shocked amazement as she declared, "This wakes me up and helps get my blood pumping!"



Charlie's dad, Alex, turned 82-years old on St. Patrick's Day. He recently qualified for the Senior Olympics in swimming. We credit his wife, Kathleen, for getting him hooked on the sport, since she's a rather avid swimmer, herself. I've known Alex for 20 years and I really don't think the man has aged a day.

He looks that good.

And according to his son, can still cook a mean steak.



My mother met the fitness King Jack LaLanne when she was at the Optimum Health Institute a few years ago. His secret for staying healthy and active is exercise and diet. According to Wikipedia, at the age of 95, LaLanne still works out 2.5 hours every morning. And he's been quoted as saying, "If man made it, don't eat it!" because he blames processed foods for a lot of the health problems that plague people, today.



Whenever I feel like I don't have the energy to get out and do something active, I just think about how good I always feel when I do something as simple as take a two mile walk.



And whenever I start to convince myself that I'm too busy and will have ample time later to do something, I try to remember that if I take time for myself now, I'm actually increasing my chances to live a longer and stronger life.

If I take the time NOW, I'll have more time LATER.

(Or so says Helen and Alex and Jack.)



So today, I stopped the "critically important task" that I was working on (and which I cannot even remember now so it mustn't have been that critically important after all) and I took off for a one-hour walk around the absolutely beautiful why would we ever leave it neighborhood. When I returned home, I was more convinced than ever that even a leisurely walk gives you energy. Exercise clears your mind. It makes you feel good about yourself. And if sustained, there is no doubt it will help you look better in a bathing suit.



Provided, of course, you are able to resist the incredible temptation to "reduce" the population of processed Dove chocolate Easter bunnies that are currently residing in your house.



Those darn Target candy sales.

They'll get you every time.

I'd bet three bunnies Jack LaLanne skips that store, altogether.

mental chatter and conflicts

We're GOING.



We're NOT going.



We're GOING.



We're NOT going.



OMG!!!! EARTHQUAKE!!!! HANG ON!!!!!



We're so totally GOING.



We're NOT going.



We're GOING.



We're NOT going.



This is how it's been for the past several days at our house and I've been so conflicted.



Just yesterday, I was cursing my college education. For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to be a mother. So why in the world did I go to college and earn a degree that would one day put me in a position where I'd need to chose between my career and my family?

Yep. I really had those thoughts.

Wait. Did you hear that?

It was the sound of feminists smacking their heads as they fell from their chairs.

My husband should work. I should be home. We should simplify our lives to the point that we can easily survive off one income. I can plant crops and trap small animals for fur and skin. I'll make clothes and shoes and soap and candles. We will live as primitive as primitive can be.

Until I totally crack because my crops are being consumed by bugs, I have to touch a dead animal, and there is no way I could ever cut the skin or fur off one.

(Finnskimo! HELP!! Where are you?)

The possibility of Charlie securing a full time job is very real. As is the possibility of me securing a part time job as a consultant. But the salary and benefits of my current employer cannot be surpassed. And the fact that in just a few years, I will be eligible for a pension and lifetime medical benefits cannot be ignored.

Well, they can.

But they're not.

Because whenever I try, someone reminds me.

So we've made advantage versus disadvantage lists. We've prayed over those lists. We've sipped an entire bottle of wine while contemplating our future. We've sipped another entire bottle of wine while praying over lists. We've spun around in circles and drawn straws and flipped coins.

We've looked for signs.

We've received signs.

On Easter Sunday, with our friends and families serving witness, we gave ourselves until 3:30 to make a decision about whether or not we would stay in California or move to Virginia. We made our decision to stay. Twelve minutes later, at 3:42 PM, there was a magnitude 7.2 earthquake 125 miles away in Mexico that rocked our house.

This was a sign to leave.

The very next day, Charlie was very safely changing lanes and a car at least 50 feet back laid on it's horn and flipped him the bird. I launched in to how much I despise traffic and rude drivers and if we move, I'll be faced with a commute everyday and that's when I noticed the offending car was from Virginia. Surely this was just an indication of what's to come.

This was a sign to stay.

We've got a great thing here. I work from home. I'm with the children. I've got INCREDIBLE job flexibility. We're in a great area. The family comes with me on almost all big business trips. The weather in San Diego is nearly perfect, year round. We've got an amazing network of friends. We attend a great church. We love our little house.

Our life is incredibly good.

And we are clearly at a cross roads.

If we go right we move to Virginia. If we go left Charlie accepts a full time job. (I struggled for several minutes debating if Virginia was going "left" or "right.") If we stay straight, we can continue on this path for maybe two more years. But it is clearly evident that this road will soon reach a dead end.

It feels like if I take this job and have to work in an office, I'll be sacrificing my motherhood for my careerhood and that defies my maternal instinct.

But. Then.

Change is awesome. Being close to my family on the east coast is something I've always desired. The change of seasons will be wonderful at least for the first snowfall. We need a larger house. But then again, do we really? No, of course not. We could stay in this small house forever. We don't need much space to survive and I like embracing a simple life. Then again, a walk in pantry sure would be swell. And once the children are in school, what will I do during the day?

Twiddle my thumbs?

After spending the past few days with my 17-year old niece and hearing how much tuition will be - despite academic and athletic scholarships - I suddenly believe that it is necessary for us to spend at least two weekends a month rummaging through dumpsters and collecting cans and maybe then, we'll have enough for BOOKS. If I take this job, I could be working and making money for their college educations, which they will desperately need.

Did I mention we'll have FOUR children in college at the SAME TIME?!

Where are the smelling salts and lottery tickets??

The fact is, the next 20 years represent my best window of opportunity to grow in my career and tuck money away for our future. Unfortunately, the next 20 years also represent my best window of opportunity to raise our children.

How is it possible to do both?

Which is more important?

Why must I feel like I'm choosing one over the other?

Does every working mother face this kind of conflict?

Or am I alone?

Echo. Echo. ECHOoooooo....

What is the real purpose for me working? Our children don't need more money (at least not for the next 12 years.) Our children need their mother. So the biggest hangup for me is that if we move and if I accept this job, I need to maintain a large degree of flexibility. I want to be able to work hours that allow me to see the children off to school and be there when they come home. I want the option of working from home at night. I don't want to be stuck in a commute. I don't want for WORK to get in the way of my FAMILY. But I'm sure it will, sometimes.

And I have to be OK with that.

At this moment, I'm not.

Because I will NEVER get these years back again.

My company can replace me.

My children can't.

Charlie has been extremely supportive and has told me so long as we're together, it doesn't matter where we are. But boy, it sure would be awesome if we moved in to a house with a basement so that he could get an air hockey table and have ample space for his guitar collection!

(!!!!!)

My husband believes that he can just as easily grow his business from the east coast. He assures me that I'll be just as great of a mother if I'm working in an office. And he has assured me that on the days when I can't be there to shuttle the children to and from school, he will. He'll be there to coach soccer and baseball and make cookies for bake sales. He's extremely excited to do it. Which makes me feel a little better about the fact that it won't always be me.

We'll rent our house so if we don't like it and want to come back, we can. And if we like it and decide to stay, we'll have a great tax deduction. Provided an earthquake doesn't shake our house clear off the foundation. That reminds me, we should probably invest in earthquake insurance.

There certainly seems to be a lot of seismic activity these days.



And not just in my mind.

favorite thing friday

Last weekend we took the children on a camping trip. We all had an awesome time. Even though the temperatures dropped down to the 40's at night, we were warm and toasty and extremely comfortable.

All because ... we had the right gear.

If you have been camping before, you know how important it is to have the correct equipment. If not for the correct equipment, there is a very good chance you will consider abandoning camp and finding the closest hotel at 2 AM.

In the early days of my camping experiences, I really didn't know what I was doing. For instance, I distinctly recall the first camping trip I went on as a geology college student, roughly 20 years ago. I didn't have a tent. Nor did I have a sleeping pad.

All I had was my mother's old Camp 7 sleeping bag. And that first night, as I climbed in to that bag which I had ignorantly positioned on top of a small knoll, I envisioned gazing up at the stars directly overhead and falling in to a restful slumber. While everyone else was staring at the nylon ceiling of their tents, I'd have an unobstructed view of the entire universe.

(At least that's how I remember convincing myself it was cool I didn't have shelter.)

But instead of fading in to sleep under the starry sky, I slipped and slid on the mercilessly hard ground all night long. Bugs were buzzing around my head and a few hours later, by the time I decided I couldn't "sleep" any more, my entire body was stiff, I was frozen solid, covered in dew and my pillow was 10 feet higher - at the top of the knoll - where I had originally laid down to rest. To add insult to injury, the sky was still dark because the sun was a good two hours from rising.

Since that time, I have procured just about every piece of high end camping equipment you can imagine. Starting with my first purchase of a four season tent and sub zero rated sleeping bag.

A few years ago, someone gave us sleeping bags for the children. They were the Disney character variety that were barely suitable for sleeping on the ground in a heated house. While these bags are probably fine for indoor overnighters or lounging around, they would never withstand a night in the outdoors. Unless the temperature didn't drop below 80.

When we did our cross-country road trip in 2008, we bought good quality children's sleeping bags for the triplets. The bags we picked up came from REI and they are rated to 30 degrees, Fahrenheit.

Which means, you should remain warm in temperatures that dip that low. Last weekend, as we made our way out of town for our camping trip, we picked up a fourth sleeping bag for Henry and we now own all the colors of the Kindercone rainbow.

What I love the most about these bags, other than the fact that they are high quality and come with their own stuff sack, is the fact that they will grow with our kids. While Disney or other character sleeping bags might be fun for a while, I suspect that by the time our children are 10, the excitement of sleeping in a Little Mermaid (!) or Bob the Builder (!) bag will have worn off.

These bags, priced at $60.00, should last until they are at least 12, or five feet tall. Which ever comes first. I think that's an excellent value. Not only are you getting something that will last through their childhood, you're getting something that will actually keep your child comfortably warm if you camp outside in temperatures that drop to freezing.

Here's a link where you can buy them.

(Or, a number of other excellent children's sleeping bags.)

And here's what happy cozy campers look like.

And if you are not an REI member, definitely consider joining the Co-Op. For $20.00, you get a lifetime membership and aside from getting coupons and access to "Member Only" events, you'll get 10% back on all eligible purchases. Which, if you're at all like me, those rebates can be used to fuel more shopping expeditions so that when you go on outdoor expeditions, you're adequately prepared.

I'll never slide 10 feet down a slope and wake up wet and cold again.

signs

So, I accepted the transfer.

But I'm not completely settled in my decision.

While the job security is good and working for a solid blue chip company with a fantastic benefits package and pension and excellent salary is good, the thought of being in an office five days a week is not so good. Nor is the thought of commuting to that office through some of the worst traffic in the whole United States of America. I've driven through just about every city in this country and I'm certain the traffic on the roads surrounding Fairfax are among the most congested.

Ten years ago, nay - six years ago, before I was a mother, I would have JUMPED at this opportunity. To work alongside some of the top thinkers in my business, to be in the thick of it, where the decisions are made. There would have been no hesitation.

But these days, my dream job is to be home with my children.

Not shored up in an office for 40+ hours a week whilst wearing hose.

On the upside, change is exciting. And I do love the idea of being closer to family. In Virginia, we'd be just close enough that we could spend special occasions together. But not so close that rogue relatives could just drop in any old time and raid our refrigerator.

Not that they'd ever do that.

(Unless there were O'Henry Bars inside.)

This morning at our house was absolutely surreal. My boss sent an e-mail that indicated he needed a decision today. Moments later, I received a voicemail message from someone I know asking if Charlie (and possibly me) would be interested in a job in Southern California.

(And no, I don't think he reads my blog.)

The timing really couldn't be any more incredible.

My sister, Eileen, and her family arrives from Michigan tonight. They will be staying with us over the Easter holiday while my niece, Emily, talks to a handful of the 35 west coast colleges and universities that are trying to recruit her in to their women's golfing program.

(Note to self: Sign the kids up for golfing lessons and 12 years from now, watch the scholarships come rolling in.)

From the time I was an impressionable teen, Eileen has been my career role model. She is an environmental chemist and is the reason I got in to geology in the first place. Over the years, she has successfully managed to be a highly respected professional in the industry and a lovingly devoted mother at home. It is Eileen that frequently tells me, "The days are long but the years are short. Enjoy them while you have them. They grow up so fast, you'll blink and they're gone to school. Your company can easily replace you. Your family cannot."

I don't think it's a coincidence that she, of all people, will be here for the next week as Charlie and I attempt to navigate this next phase of our lives.

Today, while Charlie and I were debating all of these incredible options we have before us, our neighbor came over with a shopping bag full of canned soup. She has an allergic reaction to corn starch. She didn't know the soup had corn starch until after she got it home and threw away the receipt. Surely we could use 16 cans of chicken noodle?

She could see that we were totally preoccupied, probably because our children were running around the house in their underwear, things were flipped upside down everywhere, and we the both looked like we'd been hit by a freight train of indecision. Complete with wild hair, frazzled looks, and mismatched clothes. As we relayed to her the life changing choices that were currently before us, she looked at us for a moment with wide eyes before dropping the bag full of soup cans and saying, "Quick. Let's PRAY."

So right there in the living room, while the children ran around the house in their skivvies pretending that they were pterodactyls and other prehistoric creatures from the Triassic, my husband, Sydney and I, stood in a circle with our heads bowed and we prayed.

And we prayed and prayed and prayed some more.

At the moment, I'm still awaiting divine direction.

Hopefully, it will show up when my sister arrives, later tonight.

oh my holy heck

Seriously, is this some kind of April Fool's joke?

Today, as I'm on a conference call, I receive a message from my boss.

"I need to know your answer TODAY."

I get off the phone and start flipping a coin, repeatedly. As I'm doing that, a phone call comes in from a good friend of mine, who works for a very large private firm, offering either me - or Charlie - or perhaps the both of us, a job in southern California.

Sure, it might only be 11:00 AM, but I think now is a fine time to go pour myself a very stiff drink.

Emphasis on the word VERY.

waffling and wavering

Twelve hours ago, Charlie and I were settled that we would move to Virginia this summer.



But tonight, my mind runs wildly in all different directions.



As I was tucking William in to bed he whispered, "When I grow up, Mommy, I want to be a zoo keeper. Or maybe a scientist. Wait. Whaddya call those guys that collect bones?"

A paleontologist?

"Yeah, maybe when I grow up I'll be a padeotolodist." Then he looked around wistfully and said, "I'm growing up so fast Mommy. I'll be a pade ... padeo... whaddya call it again?"

Paleontologist?

"Yeah. I'll be a padeotologist in no time!"

There was a pang of sadness in my heart to hear him say that. Because I know that he is growing up fast and my days with our children living at home are surely numbered. Oh sure, they're still young and we've got plenty of time.

But there's no arguing that you blink and 10 years goes by...

I don't want to miss it.

********

My current job has me working out of the house. Most days, I sit and have breakfast and lunch with the children. Whenever Henry wakes up from a nap, he'll come curl up on my lap, with his little hand struggling to reach under my shirt. Although he's been weaned for almost four months, he still draws such comfort from having his hand simply touching my skin. I draw comfort from it, too. So he'll sit there on my lap quietly, for twenty minutes or more, while I update spreadsheets and check e-mail and nuzzle his hair and kiss his soft baby cheeks.

There are plenty of days I'm driving to meetings three or more hours away from our house, or spending time in the field, watching massive drill rigs put in groundwater monitoring wells. And at least once a quarter, I'm pulled away to a multi-day business meeting that the family may, or may not be able to attend with me. But on those days that I work from home, it frequently happens that my routine is interrupted by children who require hugs and my attention because, "MOM! LOOK AT ME! LOOK WHAT I CAN DO ... DRAW ... SAY ... SING!"

As a working mother, with small children at home, I truly couldn't ask for anything more.



I am lucky.

So lucky.

To have the luxury to be here, at home with them while they are young, and yet earn a living to support our family.

If I were to accept this new position, my job would be working in an office five days a week. Although I could be wrong, I don't expect that I'd have nearly the same amount of flexibility as I do now. If I were to accept this new position, our family would be in a new environment. Which I'm sure would be refreshing and fun. We would have the opportunity to experience seasons, and we'd be an equal distance, one day drive, to my mother in South Carolina and my father in Massachusetts.

Considering the cost to transport our entire family of six from one side of the country to the other is comparable to a seven year supply of milk, it's not like we can just pop in for every holiday and special occasion.



If I were to accept this position, my career would be relatively stable. If I don't accept this position, the chances are excellent that I'll be out of work in the next two years. If we move, whether or not Charlie will be able to continue with his venture, that is based primarily in California, is questionable. And if we don't move, whether or not Charlie will be capable of supporting our family with his venture by then is questionable. And I'm not confident enough to let my current employment (and benefits) fade away to take that giant leap of faith.

Although. Now that I've got Blogher Ads and Healthcare Reform has passed...

Eh. Never mind.

If we opt to stay in California, two years from now, the future is very uncertain. Whether or not we would have the ability to work from the home, as we do now, is questionable. If we opt to move, we would probably rent our house so we could always come back if things didn't work out. If we opt to move, we would probably buy a house because we'd rather have the tax shelter and build equity. Of course if we don't sell our home in California, we won't have very much to put down on a new home. And what we could comfortably afford in a Virginia real estate market which is eerily similar to the overpriced California market, very much resembles a small shoe box in a dense forest covered with snow.

If we move, we'll be closer to my family. But we'll be leaving a city, neighborhood and friends that we positively adore. We'll be leaving temperate weather and year round outdoor swimming. We'll be leaving a school that is within walking distance that our children were just recently enrolled in and due to start this July. We'll be leaving our small house, which I'm currently very much in love with because it is very affordable and very easy to clean and I know where the kids are at all times.

If we move, we'll be gone by the middle of the summer and instead of participating in San Diego's 3-Day breast cancer walk in November, I'll be participating in Washington DC's 3-Day breast cancer walk in October. And all of my cousins that are reading this blog (I know who you are) must be there.



I need to tell my boss by the end of this week what my decision is. At this moment, I have no idea what to say nor does my husband. And because I rely on the opinion of others far more than I should, I put a poll at the top left.



Please tell me what you'd do.