“Hey Mom and Dad, I’m not a wussy desk-job girl!”

Part resolution and part contribution, my sister Andrea and I ran a hilly 5K in Calabasas, Calif. today to recognize our friend Travis D. and his family as they fight T’s stomach cancer. Mark drove DC up later in the morning and she participated in her first mile run with me. Mark was our photographer!

After some really major surgery on the 28th, T. is going through six weeks of chemo and possibly radiation. Because of this treatment, he is currently unable to work as an actor and the family is raising funds via the Talbert Family Foundation, who hosted the race today.

T’s family does have insurance via SAG; however, he is juggling co-pays and a gap in income. All donations are tax-deductible. Please see their web site and help spread the word.

Thank you!

In August, I’d read about the lunar eclipse and thought- what the hell. We need to break up the routine and this could even quality as an ADVENTURE. Usually our idea of an adventure is feeding more than 300 tickets into the Chuck E Cheese ticket muncher then standing in line for 30 minutes watching children choose between a rubber ball or a spider ring. Woo-hoo!

As a pilot’s daughter, I’ve always romanticized the sky. I remember getting up in the middle of the night with my Dad to see Hayley’s comet in 1976 . I can still see a splash of chalky milk against a dark Sacramento, Calif. night. I felt both in awe of the universe and also very safe under his arm. He bought a telescope and always knew the right time to see a constellation or even Jupiter.

In my adventure with the stars, there was little planning, no telescope - not even binoculars. It was a clear night and the alarm worked so at 3:30 a.m. kiddo and I backed out of the garage and into our adventure. We drove up and down streets looking like we’re trying to find a lost dog. I think my child even called out, “moon, where are you, moon?” I started to worry after 15 minutes or so and anti-climatic thoughts started to crash the moon party. Then, we caught it.

I pulled over on the 91 freeway and she crawled over the console and sat in my lap. The shadowed moon was the color of Alabama clay–appropriately enough, sitting in the Southern sky. We identified cloud shapes- I saw an animal and she saw a butt and we laughed a lot.

Tucking her in, I was so proud of myself. Now, Claire and I had our moment under the sky.

Pulled up in front of school yard last Friday. Running late and guilt meter already high as I had:

1. Yelled at kiddo to hurry up (for the love of God why does it take little people so long to get the out the door!) which of course led her to rush and stub her toe on the carpet and cry and take even LONGER.
2. Missed her first day of 1st grade at a new school AND her first AYSO soccer game because I was in NYC with husband-Mark’s family attending a wedding and seeing musicals.

Last Friday was really only my second time even taking her to this school and I’m looking through the fence at a sea of people in red shirts. Adults and kids all lining up on the playground all in red school colors. “Oh man,” I tell D. Claire, who knew today was national red day?”

As I walk kiddo to the playground and see her in her denim shorts and jacket, I tear-up. My kid appears to be the only one not wearing red. How could I have missed this?

Later as I’m telling this story it’s really funny and her Dad gets a laugh. “Don’t worry,” he says, “I’ll tell her that it’s important to stand out as an individual, you know, something like that. I’ll talk to her about it.”

I feel better.

In our own way, this is our family tribute to eating healthy or just a funny song made up in the car.

Throw Out the List!
Watching my friends list characteristics of what they want in a mate makes me laugh because I did the same thing. According to scientists in “Blink” by Malcolm Gladwell researching speed dating, men and women who approach the evening with a list end up completely discounting it at the end of the evening if they feel a real connection with someone.

Because of my Catholic upbringing and my parents’ tight marriage, I wrote on my list that I wanted to marry a Christian man. I married a Jewish man instead (what a great kisser and BIG BONUS- no guilt attached to sex!) There are professors married to high school drop-outs, rock stars married to librarians and so many marriages between different cultures that I’m sure as some point the global population will be the color of a Chai latte.

Here’s the Secret
Guys, stop dating women because you’re friends will think they’re hot. Girls, who cares if your guy drives a Honda. If your mates score high on the DACS SCALE then get ready for an honest-to-God happy relationship.

• Dependibility. When you cut your hand slicing a bagel will your mate drop what he or she is doing and get you the emergency room or do you have to call your Mom?
• Affability. Can you take said partner to a work-related event and trust him or her not to brood in the corner?
• Compatibility. The real test of love is taking out the trash, doing the dishes and sharing childcare duties. If you’re doing everything now, you’re going to be doing MORE once you’re married. Compatible libidos are critical, too!
• Stability. Consistent employment, friends who speak well on your partner’s behalf and a loving familial structure in childhood help ensure that said loved one is not going to bail on you during the rough patches.

Next time you’re choosing between a handsome dependable guy or girl and the hottie from the office down the hall, rate your date after a month or so using this scale and it could save you a lot of time. I’m not saying you can’t have both– I’ve got a hottie hubbie who scores high on DACS.

Get one and get happy.

I have stronger footing parenting my own child but often feel shaky with my 20-year-old stepson. I love him, I adore him and I’ve learned so much from living with him and seeing him move out on his own– albeit, often times not voluntarily.

I think his relationship with his Dad, my hubbie Mark is actually a bit better because they do not live together anymore. That said there is a lot of anger and resentment that goes way back and it seems like although the details are different, they argue about the same thing over and over again. Each doesn’t feel appreciated. They are both stubborn. When I listen to both cases, they each sound right to me and my loyalties get all tangled. I feel if I try to help hubbie Mark understand B’s point of view and describe some points he makes that I’m revealing some things that I shouldn’t and vice versa.

I try to stay positive as much as possible.

I talked it over with my mother-in-law and she and I both realize that our guys are never going to have a Hallmark card relationship. But, if they can show up at family events and be on their best behavior. Polite, kind– no malicious comments allowed– then we can at least have our blended family together without a food fight.

During my marriage, I honestly remember saying on several occasions that I saw divorced people as walking failures, that they just didn�t try hard enough. Oh baby, the hypocritical t-shirt was really tight on me for a long time.

My Parents Made it Work, So Should I
My military parents had been through hard times and they made their marriage work so I always thought that was somehow in the genes. We all saw “Top Gun.” When things get tough, you don�t leave your wing man. My parents married before my father completed a tour in Vietnam. Later on, he was stationed in Korea for a year and Mom was home with three kids with no babysitter and no family to help her. They made it though brain surgeries, financial strain, and breast cancer. I see them both as my heroes. They’ve been married now for over 40 years.

The Decision
I was married for close to 7 years when I filed for divorce. My daughter was just over two. The marriage counseling had come and gone several times and the same issues still played out daily, weekly. I was fickle on filing– one day I wanted to do it, the next I wanted everything to work out. It took a long time. My hair fell out in chunks!

Now, I’m so grateful for this time because I learned how I wanted to be treated in a relationship and I chose a path that enabled me to model a loving marriage for my daughter.

Still, There was Fallout
I said a lot of stupid stuff to friends who told me they were getting a divorce. “What will you do with the ring?” Doh. Now it was my turn. People just didn’t know what to say– it was awkward. They didn’t want to be around me. I felt they didn’t want to catch divorce fever and have it come into their home. This was hard because divorcing peeps really do not need to be alone for long periods of time.

How to be a Good Friend to Someone Who’s Divorcing

I believe in divorce. The irony is that I believe in marriage more now because I went through it.

Last week I flat out lied to Claire.

We lie all the time to our kids…Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny. If our children are tone deaf and want to be on “American Idol,” we tell them if they believe in themselves they can be standing next to Ryan Seacrest. These type of conveyor belt lies keep everything rolling as it should.

Then there are the wood chopper lies– the ones that cut yourself down in the process. Feeling a bit shorter this week, I confess that last week Claire missed her last two swim lessons. On Tuesday December 5 I was running late from the office and decided to just be honest. After all, kids need to realize that not everything can go their way all the time. Plans change sometimes, right? So, when signing her out at 6pm (just made the cut off) I tell her that we not going to be able to make swim lessons, it’s my fault and I’m sorry.

As I’m telling her this I’m aware that I’m not sure she even remembered that we had lessons tonight but because I’ve decided to be honest, she painfully recalls looking forward to swimming. She throws herself in a heap on the floor and begins to cry.

“You HAVE to take me to lessons. I HAVE to be there. All the other kids are starting to learn the butterfly and they’ll be ahead of me. I HAVE to go, Mom.”

I again, explain in rational adult terms grasping for lyrics… you know Claire, you can’t always get what you want.

“But I HAVE to go. Mom, you’re ruining my life.” I wanted to point out that at 5 1/2 that isn’t saying much but I thankfully kept my mouth shut. Everyone in the PTO meeting in the next room probably thought I was hitting her with a rubber mallet. Later that night, I relax about it all. After all, there’s always the Thursday class.

Thursday, December 7

You know what’s coming, I don’t make it to the swim lesson on this day either. This is the day my boss is in San Francisco and I’m in charge. People are watching to to see how I handle issues and we had a big one. If I ever want to show that I can handle running the department this is the time.

So, I have a choice. I leave in at 5pm when one of our producer’s has a crisis and my kid has no idea that I’m put myself in jeapardy for her and she has a nice happy lesson and I snap at her later in resentment. Or, I accept the fact that I said I would be the backup person at the office and step up.

Keep my word to my kid or be the hero at the office?

This time I chose the office. So, how to tell her? After having experienced Claire’s meltdown at the truth on Tuesday there was no way in hell I was going to do that again.

//CHOP//

—-Tell her the lessons were canceled. I’m Brilliant!—-

//GUILT//

—-But, that’s a real big lie. If you tell that lie, where will it end, woman?—-

I call Mark. He didn’t have a problem with it at all. I love this man, I love this man!

“Don’t worry about it, honey. You’re making too big a deal out of this. It’s one swim lesson once in her life. Really, don’t worry about it. I’ll pick her up, it will be fine.”

—-But it’s her LAST swim lesson of the year. Her last lesson as a FIVE YEAR OLD.—-

“Babe, let it go. Call me when you’re on the way home.”

Relieved, I went to the emergency 5 pm meeting and helped trouble shoot the technical issues and was thanked by my boss’ boss for staying. I think I got out of there about 8pm with a call from Mark.

“Honey, it’s time to leave now. Get a move on… chop- chop!”

My Second Wedding Day

I think that second marriages or marriages post-baby are appropriately summed up in the “Sex and the City” scene where Cynthia Nixon’s character Miranda has given birth and is getting ready to marry Steve, the father of her child. Miranda is looking for a wedding dress and the bridal attendant keeps bringing her different shades of white frilly dresses and she snaps– “I can’t wear this. I’ve had a kid and the jig is up!”

I realized that this was my dilemma when planning my second wedding and Mark’s (gasp!) third. We’ve already pledged our love in front of God and gathering of family and friends only to have it NOT work out. How do we properly acknowledge our very special day, while at the same time avoiding an inflated celebration of love and commitment that doesn’t exact not-so clandestine familial eye-rolls (awe, he’s pledging his love for life….AGAIN) during the middle of our vows?

The answer was simple– elope. Phew, there ya have it. Vegas, baby!

Then, as we talked about our elopement plans with Mark’s family, we soon realized that we should include our kids else they will add this to the list of things that they blame us for when things go wrong. Plus, they ARE really a big part of why we love each other and it would be special to recognize that.

Our friends Bill and Debbie Smith suggested their rooftop in Redondo Beach, which overlooks the Pacific Ocean and we were hooked. Here’s a rundown of the highlights:

• Claire was flower girl and wanted to wear pink so I did too.

• I wanted something to be a surprise so Mark did not see me in my dress before I walked up to the rooftop.
• Driving to the ceremony we told Brandon that Mark was going to have his gall bladder out in a week. Brandon asked what the chances are of Mark dying in the surgery and I’m thinking— great, this is going to be a great f’ing day.
• I wear waterproof eyeliner and mascara and Mark is the one who cries.
• It’s a crystal clear, Southern California perfect sky.
• I walk in to “Here Comes My Girl” by Tom Petty.
• We pledge our love, we give the kids their gifts, we hug, we kiss and Mark steps on the glass.
• Brandon makes a great toast to both of us and leaves out the death wish.
• The wedding party dine at McCormick and Schmicks, the restaurant where Brandon works as a host and we get free appetizers.

We both go to work the next day, which in hindsight was not the right thing to do but we only have a limited amount of “vacay” and need to use that for our wedding party and honeymoon.

Claire brought her bouquet to show her classmates and her teacher instructed Claire and me on how to preserve it by hanging it upside down. I politely thanked her then quietly explained to Claire outside the classroom that preserving flowers was a— craft and reminded her that I’m not the crafty Mom so she’ll just have to refer to the pictures.

“OK, mom. Can we ask my DAD to do it?”

Before Mom arrived from Alabama my healthy child was fighting off Bronchitis (two days off of work). I thought that when Mom arrived that it would give Claire a chance to wind down and relax but something about getting her Grammie out to LA put her into a caffeinated state.

Although she WORSE instead of better, on the day of her ballet performance she was home alone with Grammie and declared:

• I want to dance, Grammie. I am fine.

Somehow word spread and all parties passed on the word that Claire was OK to perform. So, at 2pm her Dad, Mark, Mark’s parents and me show up at the school. Step-son Brandon was even planning to make an appearance but I told him earlier that morning that she was way too sick to perform.

Even though Claire had a fever of 102 the day before and I dismissed the entire idea of a performance that morning before I headed to la officina, my mom must have fallen under her Claire’s charming spell.

Limp Leaps
Claire’s entourage takes up like 7 seats in the ballet room and the little thing is loving the attention but she is obviously not well. She listens to the teacher– first position, second, third– wait, YAWN. She leaps across the floor and then YAWN, runs over to me and lays her (warm!) head in my lap. I’m thinking (OMG, it’s against the mommie code to bring a feverish child into the school. I’ll be cast aside and none of the ballet mommies will ever return my calls for play dates. We’ll be cast aside!)

Everyone sans her Dad returned to our place for some fab deli sandwiches and treats that Mark (FAB future hubbie) picked up for the group.

Claire twirled up to bed and took a nap.