I've Been Boggled!

So I was playing the game Boggle with my four-year-old Evan. You shake up these letter cubes, then try to find how many words you can make out of them in one minute. What a great learning opportunity for him, I thought. Have a good time playing, learn some new words…

Evan: Look Mommy! Here’s the word TOP.

Me: Great job honey! What else can you find?

Evan: TROT.

Me: Yes, very good. And look here, the word STOP.

Evan: Yeah, and the word, MO.

Me: Good try honey, but MO isn’t a word.

Evan: Yes it is, Mommy!

Me: No, sweetie…sorry.

Evan: It’s a character in the Japanese alphabet, Mommy. See? Let me show you…

He proceeds to draw this character, which looks something like a lower case t crossed twice. So I looked it up online, and as usual, he’s right.

Me: Oh. Well….duh. I coulda told you that. I didn’t know we were using Japanese alphabet characters…( I didn’t really say that, but it would have been funny if I did)

But what I really said was – Where did you learn that Honey?

Evan: I looked it up on YouTube on Genki-Japan.com (Of course!) But it’s the Hiragana alphabet, not Kanji. (In case anyone was wondering.)

And once again it was ME who ended up learning something by sitting on the floor playing with my kid.

Mother Guilt, Part 2

Last month in my blog “Mother Guilt”, I worried that my youngest son Evan might not remember all the good times we’ve had; playing Candyland on the floor, reading books together and building castles out of blocks, but instead might only have memories of me yelling at him and sending him to his room. After all, it’s a human flaw that we remember our injuries much more clearly than our victories, the bad over the good, the insult over the compliment. It’s impossible to know what a person will hold onto and carry in his heart.

Cut to this morning. Evan came running into my bedroom, his underwear backwards and on the OUTSIDE of his pants (I don’t even ask anymore), and he says he has a great idea.

Evan: I know, Mommy! I’ll pretend I’m YOU, and you pretend you’re ME, okay?

Hmmmm….I thought, this is a great way to see how he views me, plus I’m always up for a good game of make believe.

Me: Okay. Starting now, you are Mommy.

Evan: (in high squeaky voice) Hello my precious boy!

Me: sigh…

Evan: I’m going to make you lunch. What would you like?

Me: Hmmm… how about cookies and cake?

Evan: No honey, that’s not good for you. But I’ll make you a peanut butter sandwich.

Me: Thank you Mommy

Evan: What nice manners you have! You’re going to get a sticker on your chart! And after your lunch you can have ice cream.

Me: Can I have a big huge chocolate ice cream with chocolate sauce?

Evan: No – that will make you too hyper. Then he thinks for a minute. Wait! I changed my mind. You CAN have chocolate! It’s good for you!”

He hands me a toy.

Evan: I bought this present for you today!

Me: Oh boy! Why do I get a present?

Evan: Because you’re my precious boy and I love you soooo much.

* sigh*

Mother guilt…alleviated. At least for today.

Chutes and Ladders

Today I played a marathon game of Chutes and Ladders with my four-year-old son and let me tell you, that game is not for the faint of heart. It gives “Risk – the Game of World Domination” a run for its money.

The object of the game is to move the 100 spaces to the winner's spot at the top. Along the way, you are provided “Ladders” where you get to skip many spaces to move up the board, and then there are “Chutes" - long slides that punish you and send you reeling back to the bottom (sound familiar?).

Lately my son’s been preoccupied with the idea of winning. In fact, everything is an opportunity to win. He finishes a glass of milk, slams it down empty on the table and claims, “I win!”

So we play games like Candyland or Don’t Break The Ice and when he wins, he shouts out “I win and you lose, Mommy!” He doesn’t say it with any malice, and technically he’s right, but I explained to him that even in winning we must be gracious, and encourage the other person for playing a good game. So now when I lose, he gently pats me on the back and says in a sweet sing-songy voice “Congratulations, loser.”

So today we’re playing the game, and I just happened to get lucky and make it to the winners circle. I won. His face was a little sad. He dropped the dice and started to pack up the game.

He said, “Aren’t you going to say Congratulations loser to me, Mommy?”

And suddenly, the importance of this moment sunk in. My son isn’t a loser because his roll of the dice was different than mine. He didn’t lose because his journey set him back on the gameboard. My head was spinning as I related this preschool game to my whole life. I could see our history on the multi colored spaces….

The Dexter’s Real Life Chutes and Ladders:

1993- My struggling business finally turns a profit after four years of loss. “LADDER”

1994 – It burns down. “CHUTE”

2003 – We take out a loan and build my husbands recording studio, which is booming with business. “LADDER”

2004 – It floods. “CHUTE”

2010 – We’ve finally paid off our debt. “LADDER”

2010 – We’re being sued. “CHUTE”

But did we ever pack up the game and walk away? Nope. We kept rebuilding, kept going after our dreams even with the knowledge that although other “chutes” could be in our future, the winners circle was still up there.

So I told my son, “Wait a minute, why don’t you finish the game?”

He looked at me confused, “But I lost, Mommy”

I answered, “Just because one person makes it to the top first, doesn’t mean the rest of us are losers. You keep going.”

So he did, and bless his little heart, every time he got to the very top, he’d land on this one terrible chute that would take him right back to the beginning. And I’ll be damned if that didn’t happen four times in a row. It got to the point where he was laughing so hard when it happened, he fell over in his chair. It took him another half hour to finally make it to the winners circle, but boy oh boy was that a sweet moment. We jumped up and cheered. Isn’t that just like life?

In teaching my son this lesson today, I think I’m the one who really learned the value of never giving up. When I think of the times I’ve been so discouraged, the times I just knew that someone else had already done it better, faster, slicker than me, whatever it was, and I just wouldn’t try. All the times I packed up the game and walked away, because someone else had made it to the top first – they had written the better song, the brilliant book…I walked away from my own chance to win.

And that chance is still there for all of us. Some of us may take a long time to get there. We may be middle-aged, hell, we may even be old (Betty White’s comeback at 88? Helloooo!) but we can still have our day in the winners circle. And if we help each other, maybe we can avoid a few of those chutes and get there a little sooner.

**This piece was published in Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Power of Positive

Life Is What Happens

If you had asked me ten years ago what I’d be doing when I was 46, I would have said that my two children would be grown, I would be back in college getting that elusive degree, traveling all the places I used to dream about, and finally writing that book I’d always had in my head. I expected to be sipping espresso in a café in Paris, lost in deep contemplation, engulfed in the reinvention of myself at mid-life. But here I am in this bunny suit.

No, this is not exactly what I had in mind, and yet, I couldn’t be more grateful. My life is a clear illustration of that saying Man plans, God laughs.

In my thirties, I was a rocker Mom. I had put out two albums with my husband, and we were performing every week at clubs on the Sunset strip, while working day jobs, coaching Little League, volunteering at school and on and on. I imagined in my forties things would settle down. I’d be centered, peaceful and wise, pondering the meaning of life, writing books, maybe starting a whole new career after graduating from college.

Instead, I had a surprise pregnancy at forty-one. I now spend my days chaperoning field trips, going to Mommy and Me, play dates, Chuck E Cheese, hosting a wedding for my oldest son, preparing for the arrival of a new grandbaby (another surprise), helping my daughter film a reality show….

The reality of who I am today is so far from the expectation. Life is funny that way. You ask the universe for apples and you get oranges, but hey, I’m not complaining. Today, I am a Mom who tries her best to be patient on the days that Taylors’ band is rehearsing downstairs at deafening levels while the cat is puking on the rug, the dogs are chasing each other through the house and Evan is all but hanging from the chandeliers. I count to ten, take a deep breath and remind myself twenty times a day how quickly these precious years will pass, and how I will yearn for them when they’re gone. Yet I struggle to maintain a sense of self when I am lost in the beautiful, loving, vibrant chaotic mess that is my life.

So I guess its no café in Paris for me, at least not right now. But hey- I’m still writing that book! I’m striving to be a writer in the midst of memory failures. I’m struggling to compose beautiful sentences when in reality I can’t even complete a sentence without being interrupted ten times. And in contrast to the wisdom I thought I’d be spewing forth at this age, these are the actual phrases I repeat all day long;

“I’m the parent, you’re the child”

“Why am I negotiating with a four-year-old?” (I mutter to myself, constantly)

And if I had a nickel for every time I’ve had to say, “Where are your pants?!”

I recognize these days as a rich blessing. Yes, its hectic, but as a person who loves story, I watch the daily goings on and say to myself I couldn’t write this any better.

For instance, the other day we were on the Santa Monica Pier with my brother and his family. We walked past a vendor who had his boombox playing, and my four-year-old Evan spontaneously broke into this crazy, wild dance that just went on and on. Eventually, people started to crowd around and watch him, and one man tossed him a dollar.

A few nights ago, I asked Evan if he would like to help me make lasagna. He answered, “No can do, Mom. I’m doing important things.” If I had written that in a story, the reader wouldn’t believe that a four year old would say that. But he does.

We took him to Disneyland last week, and every time something would catch his eye he’d run off. I grabbed him by the shoulders, got right in his face and firmly said, “Evan, you must stay with Mommy and Daddy! You may not wander off!” He replied innocently, “I may only wander ON?” Boy oh boy, that kid knocks me off my feet sometimes. Yes, wander on, my little wonder boy. Keep seeing the world in your kooky imaginative way, and help Mommy to remember to be that way, too.

So this is my life at forty-six. It’s kinda like river rafting. I have no control really, and no idea what lies ahead, but I’m enjoying the scenery, holding on tight and trying to stay in the boat. My three kids have changed my life and pulled me into a world I could never have imagined.

And here I am in this bunny suit.