Have you found your Veep?

veep (vEp)

n. Slang

1. A vice president, second in command, right hand person

2. Someone with whom you have shared so much that no matter how long it has been since you have seen or spoken to them when you do it is as if no time has passed, someone who reminds you of a glorious past (real or perceived)

A Veep is not reserved for presidential candidates or CEOs.   Whether we know it or not, a Veep is both something we all want and someone for whom we all search.  My search for a Veep started very young.  To understand how important having a Veep is to me, you must go back to 1967 in the Blue Ridge Mountains, down in the Shenandoah Valley.  My mother was in her senior year at a boarding school called Shenandoah Valley Academy or SVA.  She was not a delinquent, a druggie or god forbid, a loose woman /gasp/, but rather this was a sought after place, a veritable teen wonderland. 

Although the year was 1967, the school had remained in the 1950’s, frozen in an age of innocence.  The girls still wore skirts and blouses with headbands and clean faces, while the boys wore white collared shirts, slacks and loafers and with their hair parted just right.  You know the time period, even if, just like me, you weren’t alive.  We see it on TV and in movies.  A simple happy time.  Clean happy faces, clean pressed clothes, clean fun.  This is what the SVA of 1967 is like to me, a golden age.  In fact the pictures I have in my mind, the stories I hold in my heart and the feelings I have for that place make me nostalgic for a time and place that I never experienced.

It was in this bubble, this safe haven, where my mother met HER Veep.  I could not even begin to share all of the stories and adventures that bonded these two women to each other.  I am not even sure I am at liberty to share how the name Veep or her alter ego Viola came about, but suffice to say, they love each other deeply and their friendship has withstood the test of time.

My Mother                Her Veep 

Growing up we vacationed with the Veep and her family, spent weekends each other’s homes and played games that we made up ourselves – like GAAAUUD (as in guard but also has a version that is similar to god) which consisted of us kids being thrown on the sofa over and over if we tried to get up.  In short we shared our lives together.  We were always so thrilled to see them, the Veep family, and I remember the excited feeling I had that someday I would have a Veep too! 

Truth be told it has not always been easy for them – my mom and her Veep.  I have seen times when they are as tight as ticks and other times when they do not quite see eye to eye.  But like a good marriage, they persevere.  I don’t know how they do it; maybe they remember the good times when times are tough, maybe they remind themselves that ‘she is just doing the best she can,’ or maybe they just love each other despite their differences.  Whatever it is, this perseverance is what makes her my mother’s Veep.

It was with these expectations of a 1950’s perfect bubble world where I would find my Veep, that I attended SVA in the mid 80’s.  I stayed only a year.  After years of hearing stories, seeing pictures and witnessing the resulting friendships, I attended SVA looking for my mother’s school and my mother’s experiences.  I did not allow for the changes that had taken place over the years, not only in the school but in the world.  I wanted to travel back in time and I was continually disappointed when I was faced with the reality of my own time.  One problem was that I had created a dream SVA that NEVER existed, not even in my mother’s time.  The other problem?   I thought I would run smack dab into my Veep.  “Good day Tara.  Here is your room assignment, your class schedule and if you will step right over here this nice young lady will be your Veep.”

To be fair, when I attended SVA it was a grand place, still a veritable kid haven.  There were great teachers, fabulous students and awesome activities; it was still a place that was tucked away from the cares of the world and contained vestiges of a simpler time.  I would even venture to guess that my Veep might have been there.  I just did not stay or invest myself enough in the school or the people to find her.

Since I had been looking for my Veep almost all my life, it was with great celebration in my heart when I thought I found her in a friend.  We saw each other daily, shared intimate details of our lives, laughed and cried together.  She was a dear dear friend of mine for several years but alas she was not my Veep.  I was devastated when I first realized this.  But I was going through a divorce and to be fair to her, it was unpleasant all around to be in the midst of it.  She bailed and never returned.  And I began to doubt that a Veep existed for me.

It has only been recently that I have begun to realize a few things about this search for my Veep.  I have been doing the same thing with the Veep search that I had done with my time at SVA (and perhaps even other things in life but don’t make me look at everything).  I was disregarding reality and trying to create a person who does not exist, even for my mother.  Yes THE Veep, my mother’s Veep is an original, never to be repeated in any time/space continuum.  She is a dear friend to my mother, sharing an incredible history together.  But like the SVA in the bubble, I have created in my mind a fantasy friend that reality simply will not allow for.

Is this right?  Am I never to find even a fax simile of a Veep?  Actually, if I factor in reality and account for myself in the equation, I have several Veeps – and I would venture to guess that both my mother and her Veep have other Veeps too!

I have the Veep that did stick with me though the divorce, who said the hard things but loved me anyway, who comes to the important events even though she is an introvert, and who used to share chocolate volcano cake with me wherever we could find them (but now we have both given up that vice)!

I have the Veep who comes to our spur of the moment dinners, who never fails to brighten my day with her positive outlook on life, whose husband is one of my husband’s Veeps, whose son swears that he is Bella’s fella, and who loves my children even when they are rotten!

I have the Veep who after many years has resurfaced and it is as if she were never gone, who has one of the kindest hearts I know – she hand feeds her dying lizard and takes care of stray cats, who calls me once a week just to chat, and who thinks I am so darn funny!

I have two sister Veeps who are incredible, for whom I have waited and waited for adulthood to arrive and for whom the wait has been worth it, who are fiercely loyal, mama bears to all our children and who are beautiful women in their own right.

I have the two Veeps who my husband found for me, who have got to be some of the nicest women you would ever meet, who are intelligent and witty, and who live far away but whom I hold near in my heart.

I even have the Veep who did go to SVA, who I have gotten to know better in the last few years than I did in the brief one at school, and who I think is one very cool chick!

For the sake of brevity I must stop there but I know I have other Veeps and I love and appreciate everyone one of them for whatever time we spend with each other, however brief or eternal!

So I think maybe there is a spirit of Veep, in all the women in my life, that I have been tapping into without realizing it.  Perhaps some Veeps come and some Veeps go, perhaps there are major Veeps and minor Veeps, and just perhaps true Veeps are around forever.  I don’t know any more.  What I do know is that instead of searching for my Veep, instead of hanging on to an unrealistic ideal of friendship, I have decided to just enjoy the women in my life and simply let the rest of it take care of itself.  As for the 1950’s bubble school called SVA?  Well I am holding onto that one for my dreams!

Cheers to Brian and Amy

My dearest friend Amy, I post this so that you may know and Brian may be reminded just how awesome you are and that he really is the luckiest guy I know.  I love you Amy!   And Brian, well you are growing on me!

October 2, 2001

Amy French weds Brian Korich

In the spirit of our younger years, when we used to make up top 10 lists for one another (yes, just like David Letterman used to do)…I have made up a top ten list.  Since Amy is well indoctrinated in the top 10, this one is for Brian, so here are the…

Top 10 Reasons Brian is lucky to have Amy in his life

10.  Amy is laid back about time – for Amy the clock is only a gentile suggestion – so dinner at six has a two hour window built in!  What this means for Brian is that Amy will not be upset if he is late for dinner, she won’t likely be there anyway.  Perhaps what Amy knows and the rest of us need to learn is that “among life’s great regrets is all the time wasted being early for everything.” 

9. Amy is all about family and friends – all of those here today are a testament to how much Amy and Brian both cherish their family and friends. You may not know this but Amy put her whole self into this Wedding, she thought of each and every one of us during the planning. What this means to Brian is that you have a partner who takes your family and your friends as her own.

8.  Amy is diligent – Amy is an A student, actually she is likely an A student without trying but instead of taking the easy A she works her tail off, making sure everything is perfect and thus assuring herself the hard A.  What this means for Brian is that Amy is a hard worker, never taking the easy road if the better one requires some elbow grease, Amy does not fear hard work…it also means you get to join her in this so roll up those sleeves Brian.

7.  Amy loves to laugh – I never have a conversation with Amy where she is not laughing at some point, she seems to find humor in all kinds of situations.  What this means for Brian is a household full of laughter.  I think you will both find that laughter really is the best medicine for what ails you, so no matter what comes your way if you can laugh together everything will be fine!

6.  Amy is a great listener – she is a constant communicator, great with phone calls and texts, always keeping in touch.   What this means for Brian is that you have a partner who hears you, you just have to talk!  No problem there right?  But it means that you have a real listener as a partner.  Now I cannot guarantee that if you talk about the same thing over and over that her eyes will not glass over, but I would bet good money that she heard you the first and even fourth time and will remember what is important to you (unless it has to do with tooth pain or furniture then all bets are off).

5.  Amy is a planner – just look around you at this beautiful celebration, Amy makes lists, checks them twice, talks to people about them, worries about them, and then ultimately executes her plans beautifully.  What this means for Brian is that you should just sit back and let her do her thing because look they turn out wonderfully.

4. .  Amy is fiercely loyal – although Amy is very forgiving when those around her injure her; hurt her friends or family and you would be better off wrestling bears than tangle with Amy.  What this means for Brian is that he has found a loyal partner for life, and a fiercely protective mama bear should any cubs join them in the future.

3.  Amy is beautiful – come on look at her, she is hot!  What this means for Brian is that he gets to spend the rest of his life waking up with this sleeping beauty, sitting across from such loveliness, and having this sexy lady as his partner.  Not too shabby!

2.  Amy has a heart of gold – she thinks of others always, she cares about even the smallest of those who come into her life, she always has time for the children around her, she runs a hotel for stray cats just outside her front door compete with heating pads, fresh food and water, and she even hand feeds ailing reptiles.  What this means for Brian (other than haveing his lizzards well attended to) is that his partner is empathetic and will always think of others, including Brian, before herself.

And the #1 reason Brian is lucky to have Amy in his life…

1.  Amy is perfect for him – if the previous 9 reasons don’t have you convinced, then just look at them.  They really do complement each other perfectly.  What this means to Brian is that Amy is not just the Yang to his Ying but she is the filter to his fish tank, the salve to his cat scratched sofa and the heart to his beat.

So if you would join me in raising our glasses to Brian’s good fortune in finding Amy, may their life continue to be filled with beauty, loyalty, love and laughter!

41 Apologies on my 41st Birthday

It is a saying that I use all the time, “perception is reality”.  It holds true in most situations, what you perceive not only informs your reality but usually creates it.  Because perception can change, so can reality.  Hang in there it gets less metaphysical.  Perception based reality  is why you can hate someone you used to love and in some rare instances love someone you used to hate, all the while, the someone in question remains essentially the same.  It is why two people can see the same event and have very different stories and feelings about it.  It is why people can fight over an issue, each having diametrically opposed solutions, all the while wanting the same ends.   It is also why some believe I am a nice person, while others think I am horrible.

We all have a picture of ourselves in our minds.  I am Tara, loved by my husband, children and family.  I am kind, giving, hardworking and witty.  I also tend to be shy.  I live in a comfortable home in a wonderful neighborhood full of great neighbors.  I have 3 highly driven children whom I love dearly.  Blah blah blah. 

But then watch this.  She is Tara, I don’t like her much.  She is a self-centered, braggart who leaves her children with a nanny instead of raising them herself.  She also can be snotty.  She lives in NORFOLK, a dangerous place full of gangs.  Her kids are fussy, demanding and cry a lot.  Blah blah blah.

I know there is nothing I can do about what people think of me, and that is not really what intrigues me.  But rather, it was interesting to me that such diverse pictures of me – of all of us - are floating around out there.  No pictures are alike, no pictures are accurate, yet still we all make decisions based on those pictures.

If you are reading this blog, likely I am an ok person in your reality.  But there are a few people on this planet for whom I am not only not ok, but for whom I am a cautionary tale at best and a cuss word at worst. 

A harmless point in case (because there are worse ones believe you me):  on trip to the mud flats with campers from Camp Blue Ridge, I made a new friend, Kim.  I don’t know why, but I pushed her in the mud pit.  I think I was trying to be funny or maybe that is revisionist history, but her tears and what she said to me told me exactly the picture she had of me, “Friends don’t push each other into the mud.”  In her reality I am not a good friend, but in my reality I am a good friend.  I have lots of other pictures of myself that override that one.

Is that it?  Do I have a more complete picture of myself than others because I have all the pictures of myself?  Or am I revising the pictures all the time, telling myself that I did this or that for a good reason?  Whatever it is, all I want for my birthday is to take some of the bad pictures off the table.  This won’t do it, but it is all I know to do right now – if you have some magic eraser that takes away sins let me know but for now here are 41 apologies on my 41^st birthday.

I am sorry that I:   broke my promise to you,  blindsided you,  told your secret,  missed your special occasion,  did not get you a gift,  was not careful with our friendship,  did not confide in you, did not sign up for the same camp as you,  pushed you in the mud pit,  teased you,  kept the truth from you,  did not invite you to the party,  left you holding the bag,  stuck my nose in where it did not belong,  wrote that mean e-mail, went to formal with your crush, slapped you, did not send a thank you note, ended things poorly, ignored you, hit you with a vehicle, broke up with you on your birthday, tricked you, did not call you back, laughed at you, behaved like an idiot at your wedding, lied to you, did not clean up my mess, did not make you a priority, hog tied you and put you out in the rain, poured milk on your head, asked for a new roommate, lied to join the club, made fun of you, broke your watch, disregarded you, did not stand up for you, made you cry, forgot about our lunch, embarrassed you, and unfriended you on facebook.

"What did you get me?"

Just a few years ago, my husband lived, worked and schooled in Durham, England.  There he was single, footloose, and presumably fancy free – although if you know my husband “fancy free” is not something you would likely call him.  Call him laid back with a slight neurosis about car travel or identify him as chill with a case of Eore type melancholy, but don’t call him fancy free.  However, in Durham he was as fancy free as his personality would allow.  There he met some very lovely people, with lovely children, and some lovely people with out lovely children, and some lovely people who were yet to have lovely children – you get the picture.  Flash forward.  Two of these groups, from the first and last categories, now live in Washington State.  It was from them to home that we were flying when he asked me, “What did you get me?”

Bella relaxes on the plane

Ok here is the picture; we had just reached our cruising altitude of 32,000 feet as my stress level continued to rise, I am holding a crying 2 year old while dealing with my own anxiety from turbulence that seems to come from nowhere – yes both the turbulence and the anxiety seem to come from nowhere, the dangling participle works either way – it is the 4^th anniversary of our wedding and my husband turns to me and asks, “What did you get me?”  He thinks he is being funny, although he should know that at 32,000 feet NOTHING is funny to me.  I am silent, but I think to myself, I got something for you buddy!

Archie remains calm while kids go wild

More years ago than I care to admit, my fear of flying kicked into overdrive as my friend Amy and I returned from a vacation in Mexico.  Flying on a Mexican airline (ok go ahead, collective gasp away), in a storm (oh it gets better), one of the engines appears to catch on fire (not true, we were going through some crazy rough clouds and the lights on this airplane were an unfortunate red – yes you got it, red lights + clouds = red smoke/fire), and the attendants seemed not to speak English (we certainly did not speak Spanish).  After a semi-emergency landing (there were storms everywhere but in retrospect we were not likely in danger) we got off the plane in Charlotte, hundreds of miles from our final destination, demanded to get our bags and go through customs, and finally refused to return to the plane.   The airline representatives were upset with us, the customs officials were not all that thrilled either and we certainly were mad at everyone (including the drunk lady two seats ahead of us that seemed to think everything was funny and worthy of a song, just before she decided to fight with whomever was willing).  I did not fly again for years and years.

I have been quite successful over the years at NOT flying.  I have coaxed friends into traveling to me, I have taken the train to destinations that are unreasonably far for such travel, I have drugged myself silly when air travel was mandatory, but mostly I have given up on many fun opportunities.  A few months ago I decided enough was enough; besides I did not want my fear of flight to affect my children or to keep our family from trips.  I would master this or at the very least travel regardless the fear.  So I booked a flight for the four of us to Seattle to visit the lovely people.

 One of the lovely people married us, on a beautiful August evening in 2007 beside the water on a local estate.  There was a nice breeze coming off the water and the night turned out to be a cool 74 degrees.  This was a miracle since the day before was in the 100’s and the day after in the high 90’s.  Our wedding day was perfect. 

Laughing because Archie spontaneously kissed

me in the middle of the ceremony

Our Wedding Huppah

Standing under our Huppah, with our friends and family all about us I made these promises to Archie;

                I promise to allow God to be at the center of our lives

                I promise to walk by your side and be your friend

                I promise to share my life and my love with you

                I promise to take your family and friends as my own

                I promise to talk to you about the good and the bad

                I promise to listen to you, to share your joy and your tears and to make them my own

                I promise to share with you all the happiness I find

                It is now and forever more within me to be a part of you

Promises Made

It was one of these promises that brought us to Seattle that week; “I promise to take your family and friends as my own.”  These were not just his friends; the lovely people were his chosen family as well.  We are generally all born with family, a lovely institution to protect and nurture the young and an equally important unconditional support system when we are all grown up .  But we need not stop with the biological when we think of or create our families.  The lovely people of Seattle are part of Archie’s family.  And I realized I NEVER would have gotten on that plane if they were not part of mine too.

“What did you get me?”  Well my darling husband, the one within whom my heart still finds comfort and love, I fulfilled one of the promises I made to you on our wedding day; I traveled by plane to see the lovely people, our family.

The Lovely People (category one)

The Herms Family

The Lovely People (category three)

The Embry Family

If I won the lottery...

I wrote this about a year ago and it is still one of the top things I would do if I won a big lottery!  Maybe if you won the lottery it could become your dream too!

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Project: The place you wish was around when you were a child!

What is it: A freeform Child Care Facility for preschool aged children all year round and for their elementary school siblings after school and in the summer.

Goals: Help get unemployed parents back to work by giving them an affordable or free, safe place for their children to grow, learn and have fun. Give children an incredible place to explore new ideas, to expand their horizons and to give them a strong and multi-faceted foundation on which to build their lives.

Foyer: overlooks the internal outdoor areas, surrounded by offices for staff

Classrooms: freeform and dynamic structures allowing for creative use of spaces – modeled after child directed learning, but with purposeful and intentional teaching of decisions/consequences and goals leading to well rounded children.

Theater/Auditorium: carpeted step like structure for seating, freeformish, without chairs but not lacking comfort sinking down to the stage, giving the room a multi-purpose design and feel. Well suited for shows, movies, talks and events of all kinds. This can be used for anything from parental instructional meetings to puppet shows to movie nights.

Art Areas: The entire building is set up to inspire art and creativity. Art areas are spaces where supplies may be procured, help may be given or guidance can be found. Art instruction would likely take place throughout the building and even in the outside areas (ie…sandpit for casting, sculpture garden for painting, grassy area for photosensitive paper projects).

Sculpture Garden: An outdoor area with pieces from many different genres. Art would be child friendly, touchable, fun, interesting.

Gym/Pool: Emphasis on being active in this area! Keeping kids active and fit while having fun is the name of the game in the gym area. With plenty of space, the gym would be home to everything from obstacle courses for little climbers to gymnastic mats for little tumblers. Innovation in space utilization and storage would be key in order to offer many different activities while allowing for traditional gym activities such as basketball/dodge ball/hockey as well. The well supervised pool area, while offering fun, would focus on teaching swimming and basic water safety skills to the children.

Fountain Area: ideal for relaxation, perhaps for parents and educators more than anyone! Perhaps a Coffee bar should be included?!?!

Eating Area: Full service kitchen offering fresh, healthy and yummy meals in a family style atmosphere, advocating conversation and relationships over meals. Fresh fruit and veggies always available. No high fructose corn syrup allowed! Outdoor picnic area (weather permitting) is ideal for Vit D for little bodies.

Library / Computer Labs: Here is where the body rests while the mind soars. With books from all over the world and from all genres and time periods. Reading nooks encourage little ones to find a beanbag chair or overstuffed kid-sized arm chair and turn some pages…even if only to see the pictures. Computers and facilitators are available for little hands and fingers to learn how to navigate and manipulate the keys and mouse to get what you want from the screen. Moms and Dads and caregivers can log in to see what their little ones are working on with the computer.

Quiet Zone: everyone needs some down time. classrooms are not for napping or rest time, rather these peaceful rooms, which are either completely dark and quiet or have soothing music and or soothing lights, are ready for little ones to rest their bodies and minds for a little while. Napping pods cocoon little bodies, while cushy mats and pillows offer room to stretch out.

Teacher Resource Area: comfortable, fully stocked, teacher/educator directed resource center. This area will be ever changing to meet the needs of our staff so they can meet the needs of our little ones!

Outoor Area / In Middle of Building: These outdoor areas are in the middle of the building, completely enclosed, safe, dynamic, exciting play and learning areas.

Grassy Area: great place for a game of kickball or a place to lay in the grass and contemplate the clouds.

Outdoor Learning Area: outdoor classroom space with outdoor spongy steps for comfortable seating – great place to learn about bugs, sunlight or really anything on a beautiful day!

Traditional Playground Area: sometimes there is nothing like a good swing to lift your spirits! Swings, monkey bars, tunnels and slides…it’s all there!

Imagination Playground Areas: here is where creativity meets major activity. Children construct their own playgrounds a new each day with large foam pieces, shoots, tubes, tunnels. The sandpit allows for creative play with funnels, tubes and scoops, while the water zone teaches cause and effect with spigots, aquaducts, troughs and ponds. All imagination zones are kid directed, dynamic and ever changing.

You dirty rat!

Our house is home to one teenager, two parents, a toddler, a baby, four cats and a small neurotic dog.  Try as we may to keep a tidy home, you may visit our house from time to time to find dust bunnies in the corners or mail piled up on the front table, it just never works out that the entire house is clean at the same time!  OK fine, my Pottery-Barn-catalogue-dream-house is actually a kid and pet playhouse with two harried parents in the center.  Time to give up the fantasy of the perfect home and admit;  there are always toys on the floor, a counter that needs to be wiped for the 3^rd time that day, little hand prints on the windows, books pulled off shelves and a floor that never looks quite clean.  I tell myself that it is just messy TODAY and is not normally like this –  its just that I am busy right now, or the weather is just too nice to clean, or a nap sounds just too good - but who am I kidding?  There are some things that I have been able to stay neurotic about, but unless you know where to look, you would believe me to be the slacker that I am becoming.  Anyway, I am adopting an unapologetic attitude about the whole thing and trying to relax.  If you come to visit me, then deal with it or pitch in!

With all of that said, I don’t live in squalor, dust bunnies are not the bubonic plague, toys strewn about do not amount to filth and I don’t have rats running about in the house – well I usually don’t have them running about.  My aversion to rodents and creepy crawling things of all kinds is renowned – especially with my son, Taylor.  Many years ago, I was unloading the dishwasher in the kitchen when an extraordinarily large, crazed water bug lunged at me, sending me screaming and jumping up onto the counter.  My four year old son calmly grabbed a shoe and killed the intruder, thus securing his position in the family as bug killer/mom saver.  He was quite proud of himself and I was happy to have such an ardent defender. 

The aforementioned cats – two of them to be exact, Luke and Victor – bring small furry visitors through the pet door and into our house on a semi-regular basis.  So I have become accustomed to waking up in the middle of the night to nocturnal sounds of one kind or another and have become quite adept at determining if they are from the residents of our house or the noises of unwelcomed visitors.  I have even been able to aid Archie in the corralling and capture of a number of the furry interlopers, as we endeavor to return them to the outdoors unharmed – depending on how rough Luke and Victor have “played” with them. 

Saturday morning I awoke to a huge thud, thud-thud-thud, thud!  I immediately knew something was wrong and I knew ‘that something’ was not small!  Deciding to let Archie sleep, I investigated alone.  After some bleary-eyed peeks around corners and stumbling about a bit, I snapped to full alertness – having come face to snout with a rodent perched upon our pedestal tub.  OK FINE, on top of clothes and towels draped over the pedestal tub.  Again, my picture of the perfect home - towels nicely hung on hooks, clothes put away or in the hamper, but never overflowing – dashed.  The hooks that these towels should be on are vacant and in the closet – nice idea for de-cluttering but not as practical as hanging them over the tub next to the shower.  The clothes on the tub are in that limbo-land.  Not clean because they have been warn, but no visible stains or offending smells – so what is one to do with such articles other than hang them on a tub or drape them over a chair?  This is a question for which I have never, even in my more OCD days, been able to find a good solution.

The animal was dark with beady eyes and a long snout, but small – only about 4 inches long, mouse right?  Rat or mouse, I don’t know.  But the animal had a knowing look about her.  She seemed to know that I was no threat; the real threat was thumping around under the tub – thud, thud-thud-thud.  So she jumped down and scurried under the vanity. 

My attention turned to the thumping.  Without even seeing the troublemaker, I knew at once it was Victor.  Only Victor brings his prey in alive and unharmed and only Victor gets himself into positions that require professional help.  Looking at the back of the tub and spotting the small opening through which three pipes emerged, I knew a plumber was in our future.  I watched as Victor tried twice to poke his huge noggin between the pipes to escape.  Realizing I was over my head and feeling the anxiety build – here I had two animals that needed to be somewhere other than where they were – I woke up Archie.

Now there are many great reasons to have a husband, and seeing Archie sprawled out on the bathroom floor, wedged between the wall and the bathtub, one arm over the tub and one through the small hole in the back, all I could think of was – thank God he knows how to use tools.  After unsuccessfully trying to coax Victor into a position where Archie was going to “pull” him out by the head, Victor refused to come anywhere near Archie’s hand – sometimes that cat has the good sense that his owners lack, as I feel certain he would have suffered a spinal injury had Archie been able to pull him out by the head.  Archie got out the wrench, turned off the water, took one of the pipes out and waited for the recalcitrant Victor to emerge. 

With the pipe now in the clothes hanger of a tub – we will get a plumber to put it all back together at some point, but really, what’s the rush – with the cat out from under the tub, our darling Bella finally woke up.  Time – 6am.  I start the day with Bella as Archie tries to find the visitor – he still has not seen the mouse and is not sure I know what I am talking about.  He gives up.  We go about our day with the thought in the backs of our minds; there is a mouse in our house.

The day is uneventful and I try and tell myself that the mouse has most likely found her way out of the house.  Night falls.  Bella sleeps soundly all night with only one, strange and brief scream of terror which a pacifier rectifies.  Bella’s nanny arrives, the painter arrives, and Archie and I head off to work. 

Since this story has not ended I am sure you have gathered that the furry visitor had not yet left the house.  In fact, a frantic call from the nanny confirms what you - the reader - already suspect; the rat has made a bed in Bella’s crib.  At this point you might flash back to the strange and brief scream of terror from Bella that night and the two sleepy parents who only gave her a pacifier and hushed her back to sleep.  Yes, the nanny found the rat, nestled in the bed as she attempted to put Bella down for a nap.  Ok, sure the nanny gets a good night sleep, yes she was aided by the fact that she has sunlight and we were in darkness – but I ask you – what kind of parents hush their child back to sleep in a bed with a rat?  Not the perfect Pottery Barn parents I envisioned us to be when we first found out we were expecting way back before any small children were in the house.  You have seen the pictures, you know of what I speak – clean pressed children, laughing, coloring (in the lines) on a beautiful white table and chairs on a beautiful rug and surrounded by fabulous wall hangings and cubbies full of interesting but tidy toys - only $3700 for the complete room and a down payment on the dream. 

A quick – and rather speedy – drive home from work finds Bella free of any bites or signs of trauma, a rather shaken nanny and a rat free house – yes the mouse is now a rat because it got into bed with my precious Bella.  Whew!  The painter had already caught the rat and returned it to the wild from whence it came.  Thank you God!  Now all that was left to do was ignore the nagging feeling that I had failed as a mother, strip Bella’s bed clothes and put them in the wash with all the clothes that were hung over the side of the tub.

Bella now sleeps with a defender, Leia

Yes I look at women...no I am not Lebanese...

Ok so this is a confession I can make only AFTER having dinner and drinks with three very beautiful ladies this past weekend; a California beauty, a slender soccer mom and a totally put together chick! 

So here goes, I look at women all the time.  I check them out from stem to stern, noticing every detail.  A beauty always catches my eye, a fashionable lady typically gets a second glance and an older wiser hip chick usually has me starring more than polite society would allow.  Why? 

A beautiful woman, especially a natural beauty, draws the eye almost unintentionally.  Apparently natural beauty transcends gender and age, we are all attracted to the symmetrical face.  An interesting study by Victor Johnson of New Mexico State University showed that only the people with super symmetrical faces were rated 10’s.  Everyone looks at a beautiful woman – a men want to be around her, women want to be her kind of thing.  So, I am with everyone else in admiring a beautiful woman.

A fashionable lady draws most women’s attention, I would gather.  What is she wearing, where did she get it, how does she put it together?  Accessorizing is not a “natural” gift from God the way beauty may be.  We all might know someone that seems to have the knack, but I would venture to guess lots and lots of practice has gone into that talent.  Those of us who were lucky enough to have gone through the Madonna/Cindy Lauper phase of the 80’s will remember just how terribly wrong accessorizing can go.  So, it is with admiration that I look upon a well dressed, fashionable lady.

An older wiser hip chick simply is awesome.  All women hope that either they are her or hope to be her sometime in the future.  She has a confidence that we only fake – sometimes.  She is comfortable in her own skin and speaks poetically about all kinds of important things.  She is self possessed and confident in a manner that seems to come out in the way she dresses, the way she carries herself and the way she styles her hair.  You know a Maya Angelou kind of confidence that makes you want to sit and eaves drop on her all day long.  So, it is because of the student to philosopher draw that I steal a “sit-at-the-feet” moment with the wise hip chick.

Good reasons to look at women right?  Well they are not true, not completely.  I do enjoy a pretty face, a nice outfit and a good story.  But what I am really seeing is what I, myself am not.  I am spotting what I wish I were, had, or could do and chastising myself for not – or mourning that I cannot.  Now I knew we – women that is – looked at each other for the above reasons.  What I did not know is that we also all – or at least the women at dinner with me that night – compare ourselves to each other.  And we are darn hard on ourselves.  While slender soccer mom and I were laughing at how we both check out other women, totally put together chick said something that really resonated with me. 

We are comparing our worst to their best.  WOW!  That is right, I know what I look like in the morning all rooster haired with lines on my face from the pillow and that dried spit on my cheek that seems to take on shapes not unlike a Rorschoch test.  I remember all of my bad hair days, bad fashion choices and bad conversations where a foot in the mouth was the least of my worries.  I have the image of myself in the mirror under the GOD FORSAKEN UNFORGIVING NEON LIGHTS of the dressing rooms at Nordies seared into the backs of my eyeballs.  All I know of her, this beautiful woman, this trendy dresser and this hip mama is her right now, out and about, having coffee at a trendy spot with her friends.  She is at her best – or her pretty darn goodest at least.

There might be some among us that don’t do this.  They don’t compare their worst to someone else’s’ best, they might not even compare themselves to others at all.  Wow, how healthy is that!?!?  But I take comfort in knowing that I don’t think I know any of those women.  The sisters I am surrounded with are on the same journey that I am; we want to start thinking of ourselves in better terms, to start giving ourselves more credit and to work at chiseling off that image of ourselves post baby in a bathing suit from our consciousness – let the unconscious self deal with that one.  But none of us has reached that enlightened state yet.

Well, wait now, come to think of it, California Beauty did not say a word during this conversation, she smiled, laughed and seemed quite self confident!  Damn her, I do know someone perfect!