The Heart Of A Dad

Posted on June 13, 2014 by KB

What makes a good dad?

I went Father’s Day card shopping this week, and for the millionth time I thought to myself, “I should be a greeting card writer.” I couldn’t possibly be any worse at creating cards than the people who made the crap I sifted through for nearly an hour.

Do these people HAVE fathers? Do they speak to them? Do they know ANYTHING about them?

I am a fan of dads. I have a dad. I’m married to a dad. I know a few others.

I feel I can say with confidence that the majority of the dads I know fall somewhere in between the tie-wearing, golfing, fishing, tight-ass emotionally detached stereotype and the beer-drinking, crude joke telling, flatulence-filled handymen that are represented in the majority of these cards.

There seems to be a one-size- fits-all approach to Father’s Day, and I think it’s really unfair. Dads are multi-dimensional. They aren’t Ward Cleaver and they aren’t Al Bundy. They are so much more than that.

So, here is my tribute to the dads I know. I hope I don’t miss anyone.

To the men who get up early every day to sit in traffic and spend 8-10 hours in an office to provide for their families

To the men who work the nightshift and still try to function during the day because that’s when their kids are awake

To the men with physically taxing jobs that sap them of their energy and strength by the end of the day

To the men who work from home so they can send their kids off to school and be there when they step off the bus in the afternoon

To the men who serve in the military and miss so many of the big moments in order to fulfill their duty

To the men who rearrange their schedules to be at as many sports practices, dance recitals, doctor’s appointments and school conferences as possible

To the men who ache for the flexibility to do that, but can’t

To the men who walk in the door ( instead of heading to the bar or some other refuge) knowing that before they can take their coat off someone in their household is going to dump a list of problems and/ or chores on them

To the men who know that they deal better with all those chores and/or issues once they’ve had a chance to let off steam at the bar or the gym or the driving range

To the men who play catch with their kid or kick around a ball from the time they can walk

To the men who sit with their kids and read them stories

To the men who do it themselves

To the men who know when a job is best left to an expert

To the men with hormonal daughters that leave them baffled but still sit and listen to their girls in hopes of understanding

To the men with sons they don’t know how to connect with, but they keep trying

To the men who don’t get to see their kids every day

To the men who have to see their kids all day, every day

To the men who have come out on the short end of a custody battle but keep fighting

To the men who have stopped fighting so there can be peace

To the men who do it all on their own

To the men who have lost a child and will never be the same

To the men who lie awake at night wondering and dreaming about who their baby will grow up to be

To the men who lie awake at night wondering how their baby grew up so fast

To the men who didn’t have a father to emulate so they’re figuring it all out as they go

To the men who had a great father and want to live up to their legacy

To the men who know whatever kind of father they want to be, it’s nothing like the father they had

To the men who worry they aren’t doing it right but don’t realize their self-examination is a strong indicator they are on the right track

To the men who’ve made mistakes and owned them

To the men who show up, who are in their kids’ corner, who push when it’s necessary to push, but still have a shoulder to cry on when needed

To the men who are strong for their families even when they are afraid

To the men who love their kids in the best way they know how…

What Have You Learned- Part Two

Posted on May 25, 2014 by KB

Well, this is it. Do you know what today is? It’s our anniversary! (Cue Tony Toni Tone)

One year ago today, I launched this blog. http://kbjackson.com/hello-world/ was my first official post and, terrifying as it was, I’m glad I did it. Looking back over what I’ve written, I’m proud of what I’ve done.

The next day I wrote http://kbjackson.com/what-have-you-learned/ and my husband began to get a little nervous.

“You can’t post something every day. You’ll run out of things to say.”

He can be hilarious some times.

I went back and re-read “What have you learned?” and thought that sounded like a really great birthday but because I am old and can’t remember anything, it’s like reading about someone else’s life. I had forgotten about the drunken karaoke serenade and the board games. I did remember the Aretha Franklin solo and coffee with my girl.

Over the past week I have contemplated what I would like to write about for my anniversary/birthday blog.

I thought about writing a scathing diatribe about Facebook’s new policies that limit my blog audience to almost nothing, and how that has taken the wind out of my sails more times than I can count.

I thought about mentioning my frustrations with WordPress, the fact that the only people who comment on my blog are my mother and autobots who leave me encouraging comments like “My membeг is just regular size in case you’re interested.
The issue with this isn’t simply because theу
do not fսnction the obliqսe’s simply because thеy
do, it is simply because you will find mucɦ better workouts…” You get the picture.

I thought about writing some heartfelt introspective post where I try to determine if I have had any personal growth this year.

I even thought about writing a poem. (I have mad limerick skills. Terrible at the haiku though)

In the end, I decided I have written a lot of words this year. Probably too many, I think, as one of my greatest faults as a writer is lack of brevity and knowing the attention span of my audience.

So here, in no particular order, are the truths I have attempted to absorb this year, in pictures:

Life is about celebration. Sometimes you’re not feeling it, but if you can tap into that place inside you where gratitude and joy reside, it can’t help but spill out.

(4th of July)

My father’s 75th birthday

I learned that surviving family vacations is a matter of perspective

The world can be a cold place, so you’ve gotta be prepared. (Parker playing goalie)

Life isn’t fair. We lost Shonda to cancer in July, but her legacy lives on in our sunshine group.

God is faithful and He is the giver of life. For every loss there is new beauty to take its place.

Since my last birthday we have welcomed into our extended family:

Jacob

Bennett

Ian

And any moment now Masai will be making his debut

Filling your home with friends and family and the laughter of children is better than any gift you could buy in the store

Friendship matters. http://kbjackson.com/you-gotta-have-friends/ was my tribute to Shonda and the beauty of friendship.

She’s my mom and my friend

Sometimes you have to meet life’s challenges with toughness

But usually the best way to handle the ups and downs of life is with silliness and laughter.

Life is always changing. I’m not great with change but it certainly keeps life interesting.

I truly believe what it all boils down to are two things-I don’t ever want to miss an opportunity to laugh and I never want to miss an opportunity to tell someone that I love them.

Thank you all for your support this year, for encouraging me and for reading my stuff. It means more than you can imagine.

Sometimes my own words are simply inadequate. I’d like to end with something written by one of my favorite all-time authors and life mentors, Erma Bombeck.

IF I HAD MY LIFE TO LIVE OVER

I would have talked less and listened more.

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded.

I would have eaten the popcorn in the “good” living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather rambling about his youth.

I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.

I would have burned the pink candle sculped like a rose before it melted
in storage.

I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains.

I would have cried and laughed less while watching television, and more
while watching life.

I would have gone to bed when I was sick, instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren’t there for the day.

I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn’t show soil or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.

Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I’d have cherished every moment, realising that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.

When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, “Later. Now go get washed up for dinner.”

There would have been more “I love you’s” and more “I’m sorry’s”

. . . but mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute . . .
look at it and really see it . . . and never give it back.

Life From The Back Of The Bike- A Mother’s Day Memoir

Posted on May 10, 2014 by KB

Huntington Beach, circa 1977.

My mother is riding her bike, and I’m in the seat on the back. I’ve spent a lot of time in this position, seeing the streets and the beach from the back of my mom’s bike. She doesn’t drive a car, so this is how we get around.

I recall thinking to myself, “I wonder what would happen if I leaned this way.”

What happened was an epic crash. It was totally my fault.

This one incident is an accurate metaphor of what being my mother has been like.

I could say that I have no idea how my mother survived parenting me, but the truth is, I know exactly how- she laughed her way through it. How do I know this? Because I have a daughter just like me and I have found that’s the only way. I also have 3 other kids who are not like me. Laughing helps with them as well.

8 year old me: Why do they have all those tanks? Who are they guarding against?

My mom: I dunno

Me: Idaho?

Now, you and I both know I heard what she said. In my 8 year old mind, though, the idea that the local national guard armory was keeping tanks in case of an attack from Idaho seemed much funnier.

She could have rolled her eyes. She didn’t, she laughed. And every time she laughed at my antics (there were many) she taught me an important life skill. Laughter makes everything better. The greatest gifts I ever received from my mom, and there have been some great ones (she always knows how to find the most interesting, most applicable stuff), are not material. They are the legacies she has passed on to me.

Let me paint a picture of me as a kid.

Stubborn.

Precocious.

A little bit of an attention hog.

Yet one of the greatest gifts my mother ever gave to me was the freedom to be me.

Even if being “me” meant dressing in my Wonder Woman bathing suit, putting a yellow plastic headband across my forehead with a red star sticker in the center, covering up in my pink polyester robe and then spinning around in circles in my living room, all the while stripping off my robe in transformation.

Even if being “me” meant dressing up in the Native American dress that she hand made for me, begging her to cut slits in all my clothes so people might think my towhead pale self belonged to a local tribe, and sitting around playing “10 little Indians” over and over on my fisher price record player.

Even if being “Me” meant converting my sister’s pilgrim dress (also handmade by my mother) into a raggedy pre- Daddy Warbucks Little Orphan Annie costume and wandering the house singing the entire soundtrack at the top of my lungs.

Another gift that my mom passed on to me was the tradition of making every holiday a special day. I read a blog not too long ago, where a mom lamented the trend towards elaborate holiday tables. For me, this isn’t new. Every holiday I would wake up to discover the table decorated, and I have done this for my kids as well. Zoe has already told me she plans to do this for her kids.

I remember one year I came down on Valentine’s Day to find handmade lace doily valentines and a handmade Valentine’s Day outfit. She had worked on this outfit after I went to bed, creating a vest and skirt combo with hearts all over it. She. Sewed. Me. An. Outfit. I can barely comprehend it.

I love the opportunity to make those days extra-special. I remember the feelings I had when I came downstairs to find the table transformed, and I enjoy doing that for my own kids. I figure this somehow makes up for all the other ways I fail as a parent, just a little.

I also inherited my love of reading from my mom. I remember reading Erma Bombeck to her as she cooked dinner and we both laughed until we couldn’t breathe. She introduced me to her favorite mystery authors, J.A. Jance and Sue Grafton, getting me hooked on them and the mystery genre in general. She bought me Bill Bryson and Molly Ivins, both of whom inspired me to write what I observed.

She brought music into our home. Many weekends growing up there was no TV on, just a never-ending rotation of records playing John Denver, the Eagles, Linda Ronstadt. She gave me the confidence to sing out loud.

My mom has modeled compassion for others, a social conscience, and a desire to serve.

She gave me a voice and a platform to express my oh-so-many opinions.

She has been my cheerleader, my sounding board, and a soft place to land in a sometimes hard world.

She stood by me as I dealt with consequences of bad choices. She taught me put on my big girl pants and face problems head on. She’s given me boosts when I need them and she’s let me pull myself up by the bootstraps all on my own. She’s shown me that a contrite heart and being willing to admit your mistakes as a parent is the key to gaining the trust of your kids. I have called her crying saying I understand why she lost it sometimes over the years. She has told me those moments are her greatest regrets. I’ve been able to real with her about my struggles and failings and I know that she will be real back with me.

I would say she’s been my friend, but that word doesn’t suffice. In the end, the only word that truly tells the story of who she is to me is simply MOM. It’s all encompassing.

She’s cool, freshly washed sheets on a sick day, hands in the dirt replacing weeds with flowers, freshly baked chocolate chip oatmeal cookies when no other comfort can be found.

Thank you, mom, for all of this and so much more.

What I Want My Daughters To Know About Love, Dating And Relationships

Posted on April 16, 2014 by KB

Love is a many splendored thing. Love makes the world go ’round. Love will keep us together. (Tell that to the Captain…Tenille just dumped his ass.)

I would never claim to be an expert on love, even after 21 years together and 17 years of marriage. I think love is like that green goo they used to sell at the toy store- it’s hard to pin down and it can get pretty messy. It can also be a whole lot of fun.

Love can bring pain, especially when the other factors that make a successful relationship are missing, and love can bring joy.

And while I am no expert, I have had enough experiences to have learned a few valuable lessons.

Here, in no particular order, are my thoughts and advice on love, dating and relationships (heavily influenced by the movie “He’s Just Not That Into You” which should be required viewing for all women):

1.Men and women are different. We think different, we feel different, we see the world differently. We’re physically and physiologically different. Not better or worse, just different. Expecting a man to view things the same way you do, to perceive things the way you do, or to respond to things the way you do, will lead to nothing but misunderstanding, frustration, and pain.

2. Allow a man to be a man. Do not try to feminize him. You will not like the result.

3. Adam and Eve were the first humans to fall in love. When Adam saw Eve for the very first time, he exclaimed, “At last!”

The man you choose to love should look at you and say “At last!”

Not “You’ll do.”

Do not manipulate or cajole a man into a relationship with you. You may get him to marry you, but you’ll always know how you got there, and that’s not a good feeling. While you will tell yourself you’ve won because you got the ring on your finger, you’ll know you will never completely have his heart.

4. Communication is the key to any good relationship. Communication is not only words. Many men don’t like to use words, they use their actions to communicate. If the man’s words and his actions do not match, listen to his actions- they always tell the truth.

Believe what he’s not saying. He’s telling you everything you need to know by what he does and does not do.

5. Men are pursuers by nature. If they want you, they will pursue you. You don’t have to pursue them. That is not to say that you should sit by the phone like some 16 year old girl in 1955, never being assertive or asking for what you want. It just means that if you are doing ALL the pursuing,

6. Before entering into any serious relationship, you should be educated and be in touch with who you are, what your values are, what your passions are and where you want your life to end up. That way, he will know who he is entering into the relationship with, and won’t feel blindsided by your sudden desire to be true to yourself, and you won’t feel like you’ve compromised yourself to be in the relationship.

Which brings me to…

7. Compromise. Compromise and the ability to do so is integral in any relationship. There are no winners when someone always tries to be right or to get their way. It’s okay to give in and let the other person have their way, and it’s okay to stand firm on your principles when you feel they’re being violated. Otherwise, there will always be middle ground to be found.

Compromise DOES mean: Listening to the other person’s perspective on an issue, validating their feelings and working towards a solution where everyone feels respected.

Compromise DOESN’T mean: One person makes all the concessions.

8. Be yourself. Any time you feel you have to be someone other than who you are for a man to like you, you are involving yourself with the wrong man. You cannot pretend forever, and it never feels good to know that the person you are with only likes you for who they THINK you are. That is not to say that you should not try to improve yourself, expand your interests because you want to support his interests, or try to put your best foot forward. I sat through more subtitled kung fu movies than I can count, but I never claimed to love them. I endured listening to Morrissey, but made my feelings crystal clear about his inability to sing on key. But you should listen to the music you like, watch the movies you like, eat the foods you like, and not feel the need to hide them.

9.There’s no such thing as a happy ending, unless you count two people dying at the age of 100 holding hands side by side after 80 years of adventures, babies, kissing and companionship. An ending, by definition, is a moment. A wedding is not a happy ending. It is the beginning of a committed life together. A divorce may be a happy ending if you have chosen poorly. A marriage is not a happy ending, it is a series of choices that you make every day. Happiness is a fleeting emotion, but you must choose to be content, regardless of circumstances.

10. A good man is not necessarily the right man for YOU.

Somehow we as women have convinced ourselves that if a man is a good man, we shouldn’t let him get away. The reality is, there are a lot of good men who we are not compatible with. Being a good man, with character, is the starting point of determining viability of a relationship, not the ending point. Some GOOD people just aren’t good TOGETHER. It isn’t a commentary on them or on you, it’s just the way life works. If you are self-critical, dating or marrying a man prone to inflexibility or criticism isn’t a good fit, even if he is a great guy- he can go be a great husband to someone who won’t let his criticism get to her. If you have a strong, intense personality, probably a nice man who hates drama or conflict isn’t a good match. He is better suited for a more easy going woman, while you need someone who will not be easily pushed around and will keep your respect.

11. If it’s not working as a dating relationship, it certainly won’t get easier once you’re married, with a baby depriving you of sleep and a mortgage to pay. People tend to become MORE of who they are over time, not less. Incompatibility or discord will not improve with A) a diamond ring or B) a baby.

12. A man worthy of you will always want the best for you, not the best for you as long as it doesn’t interfere with HIS needs, HIS desires, HIS ideas of the way things should be. He will encourage you to pursue your dreams because he knows a fulfilled YOU will be a better partner.

13. A man worthy of you will appreciate you for who you are, not only what you do for him.

14. If he doesn’t make you laugh, the tough times are really gonna suck. Same goes for if he takes himself too seriously.

15. Don’t ever let a man make you feel desperate for his love or affection. If you find yourself doing things that are out of character, unhealthy, degrading, pathetic or otherwise humiliating, you need to pick yourself up, brush off your knees, and start walking.

16.

17. You teach people how to treat you.

18.

19. Each relationship is an opportunity to learn. Learn about yourself, learn how you want to be treated, learn where you need personal growth, learn about how to love others the way they need to be loved, not the way you want to love them. And if that relationship ends, take all of those lessons to make the next one better.

20. People are unique, and each relationship is unique, but there are some things that are universally true-

A successful relationship is based on two people with similar values who are working towards one common goal, treating each other along the way with a mutual respect.

I Spent Valentine’s Day With Brian McKnight

Posted on February 17, 2014 by KB

Caution: If you hate anything that has to do with Valentine’s Day, you’re gonna want to stop reading this post now, because I had a GREAT Valentine’s Day. I spent it with one of my biggest musical crushes- Brian McKnight. Oh, and my husband was there too, don’t worry.

About six weeks ago, I found out that Brian McKnight was coming to Emerald Queen Casino in Tacoma, WA for a Valentine’s Day concert. While I was excited, I didn’t have high hopes that my husband would go for spending Valentine’s day at an R &B concert in a casino. I underestimated his relief at not having to plan Valentine’s day surpassing his lack of desire to go to this concert.

For those of you unfamiliar with Brian McKnight, his first album came out in 1992. I became obsessed with this CD. I knew every song front to back. My husband and I started dating a few months after it was released, and many of the songs made it onto various “mix tapes” I made for him.

He’s had many hits since his debut album, but it remains my favorite. A song most everyone knows of his is “Back at one.”

This past Christmas a group of us sat around playing a conversation game. One of the questions was “If you could sing a duet with anyone, who would it be?” My answer, without hesitation: Brian McKnight.

You can imagine how thrilling getting to see him in concert would be for me.

I bought the best tickets still available and made hotel reservations. We didn’t think about making dinner reservations until last Monday. I looked up restaurants near the hotel, and called the one with the best reviews. The woman on the other end of the line laughed condescendingly, and then said, “Oh, honey, no, we’ve been booked up for a while.” I asked her if she had any suggestions, since we were at the hotel next door. She said, “Oh, well we have a relationship with the hotel, so here’s what I will do. Come here at around 5, tell the girl at the desk that you are staying at the hotel, and that you have a concert to get to. We will do our best.”

Not completely reassuring, but better than nothing.

Meanwhile, my husband began making comments about going to a thrift shop to look for a velvet jacket to wear to the concert. I thought he was kidding. I hoped he was kidding. He was not kidding. He said, “I can’t go to a 90’s R &B concert at a casino NOT wearing a velvet jacket.”

My friends were not helpful in supporting me. People begged for pictures and gave suggestions for where he might find a velvet jacket.

While he was at the thrift store, this was our conversation:

Thankfully he didn’t bring this pelt home.

He began to get discouraged, so he tried a different approach:

This was the response from my friends:

Bob: I have a black velvet one he can wear and I am coming to the coast

Me:Uh. That’s ok. Really. But thank you.

Bob: I’m bringing it

Matt: I cannot believe that you are holding Jeff back from expressing himself

Me:I’m not holding him back. I’m protecting him from himself.

Matt: Do you think Barry Gordy’s wife tried protecting him from starting Motown?

Me: Barry Gordy could get away with a velvet jacket

Lee: It’s such a shame that you can only “like” something once

Lisa: I’m buying a velvet jacket AND a cowbell for Doug and we are going on a double date.

Shannon: A velvet jacket is nothing compared to red leather pants

Me: God help me if Loverboy comes to town

Shannon: Do I need to overnight the pants? Seriously- they are in my closet from a Cajun.

Me: No. Do not send him red leather pants.

I decided to fight fire with a flame thrower- I made a prayer request at Bible study that he would not be able to locate a velvet jacket. I figured if I got the Big Guy on my side, it would work out okay.

Unfortunately, my group didn’t agree, and refused to pray for that. In fact, I am pretty sure my friend Lisa actually prayed that he WOULD find one. She said, “You’ll thank us some day.” And “I’ll bet there are a number of us who would actually chip in for the jacket. I’m in for $10.”

People began posting links to velvet jackets on my wall, tips for where he might find one on sale, offering to go out looking for him.

Thursday evening he came home from work with a shopping bag.

I said, “Do I want to know?”

He smirked and told me to look inside.

Not only had he found and purchased a velvet jacket, it was paisley. Also, there was a red velvet vest.

“No.”

“Oh yes.”

I posted the update on my Facebook page, and it received 55 likes. I have a bunch of traitors for friends.

Friday (Valentine’s Day) was a bit chaotic. Zoe was upset with me because I had posted the photos of the Valentine’s Day table decorations on Facebook, so she saw them online before she came down in the morning. Parker kept eating chocolate instead of getting breakfast, so by the time I sent him out the door he was in full blown “Parker” mode.

I got showered and dressed in time to get to the school for party number one- in Zoe’s class. After an hour of pink frosting and sprinkles everywhere, I ran home to finish packing up myself and the kids for the night, straightening the house for the party Sydney had announced that morning she was hosting, steamed Jeff’s shirts and ran back out to the school in time for Parker’s party.

After school I threw everything plus Zoe and Parker into the car and drove out to my parents’ house, where the kids would be spending the night. Jeff was already in Seattle, so he headed south to the hotel and got there well before me. I was stuck in pretty bad traffic for over 2 hours. I tried not to stress, and just told myself that if dinner plans didn’t work out, it wasn’t the end of the world.

When I arrived, he had these waiting for me:

View from the hotel room :

He had gone to the restaurant at about 430 and put our name on the list. I didn’t get to the hotel until 530. We got to the restaurant and only had to wait a short time, since he’d already been in and called to let them know my progress. Sydney called me and asked where I had put the recipe for the chicken enchiladas she was attempting to make for her friends, and I realized I had forgotten to write it down. Attempting to ignore the glares from across the table, I texted her step by step instructions before finally putting the phone down.

Dinner was ok, not fantastic. The view was amazing though with the moon shining down over the water. Oh, and the view of some of the characters at the restaurant was pretty amazing too. I saw a guy who looked like Bob “happy trees” Ross and a woman wearing the largest, thickest white fur coat I have ever seen. It made her look like a furry linebacker. It’s always stunning to me when I see people wearing real fur anymore. You just don’t see it.

As we left, I attempted to get a picture of Jeff “driving the restaurant” in his black velvet paisley jacket (They had a giant ship’s wheel out front) but he wouldn’t let me. I must admit, he actually pulled it off. He wore it with a black dress shirt, and compared to some of the outfits I saw at the concert, his jacket looked conservative.

When we got to the venue, parking was crazy, and the valet line was a hundred cars long. We drove around a bit, and then ended up driving up the hill and parking on the street. They had a trolley shuttle picking people up, which was very helpful. As we got off, though, the driver told us that there was no shuttle back up the hill. Good thing I was wearing my 4 inch heels.

We got into the concert arena, got some drinks from the bar, and found our seats. The big screens were advertising upcoming acts, many of which left my husband exclaiming, “They’re still alive?!” The following night was going to be Air Supply, and they showed this photo of them:

. He leaned over and said, “Oh, did they start a magic act?”

They also posted a disclaimer that made me laugh out loud:

Who in 2014 still has a pager? Just because Brian McKnight has been around since the 90’s, doesn’t mean all his fans are still living in the 90’s.

I tried to get Jeff to take pics with me, and this was all I could get out of him:

Not cooperative

Since we were in the middle of the row, and there wasn’t a lot of passing room, I decided to hit the bathroom before it filled up and I had to get physically intimate with too many people as I tried to get back to my seat.

On my way back I saw a man walking towards me with his date and I thought, “Wow, he’s extremely attractive.” And then a half second later my brain clicked in and I realized I recognized him.

It was Seattle Seahawk defensive linebacker (and Super Bowl 48 champion 🙂 KJ Wright.

Was I lying? Seriously pretty.

I came back to my seat and told my husband and said, “You’ve got to admit he’s really good looking.”

My husband responded, “Yes, he’s the second best looking guy in here.” Meaning he was the first, of course.

I had a clear view of the stage until a couple came in right as the concert was beginning. He hair was teased 5 inches above her head and soon this view:

Became this view:

Jeff insisted I trade seats with him, which was very sweet.

I have never before been to a concert where there was no opening act- until this one. Which was totally fine with me.

From the very first note, I was entranced. His voice is simply amazing, and shows no sign of wear from 20 plus years of belting out those notes. There were times I felt my throat get a little hoarse just at the thought of how much strain singing so powerfully must put on his voice. But not a single crack. Not a single missed note.

It was also very entertaining to watch his bass player. Not a small man, he was seriously grooving on that stage. At one point, he started twerking.

I caught this pic as we waited afterwards. You can see this backside would make for quite the twerk.

At one point Brian McKnight stopped and said that he had been contacted by a young man, and gave his name. The lights came up, and after a few awkward moments, a guy started moving towards the stage with a clearly shell-shocked girl in tow. While we couldn’t hear the words, his intentions became quite clear as he got down on one knee. She nodded her head, and they began kissing to the cheers of the crowd. It was a sweet moment.

A little later, he asked for a single female volunteer to come up on stage. The woman in front of us tried volunteering, much to the chagrin of her husband (her wedding ring was flashing in the stage lights). The woman next to us began jumping up and down waving her arms. I was a little surprised that she was volunteering, as she was at the concert with the guy sitting next to her. He seemed just as excited for her to go, though. Brian picked her and she went up on stage. One of the men up there handed her a bouquet of roses and she was led to a stool in the center. Brian asked her if she had a boyfriend. She said, “No.” I looked at the guy she had come with, and he seemed to be happily recording the whole thing with his phone. I wondered if maybe he wasn’t her boyfriend, but her gay BFF. Brian serenaded her and she played it up for all it was worth. She was a total ham on stage, and in the end, was rewarded with a short peck on the lips. After she got back to her seat, the guy she had come with was hugging her and they were laughing and looking at the video. I was convinced they weren’t a couple, until after the concert I watched them file out, and he had his hands wrapped around her waist. Maybe he’s just a really supportive boyfriend. I’m not sure mine would have been so understanding.

The concert had Brian singing with a microphone, then switching to guitar…

And then moving on to keyboard. He began singing one of my favorite all time songs, Never felt this way. I’m not sure if I violated any copy write laws by posting this, but it’s just a snippet to show how amazing he is live.

Here is the song in its entirety as it was on his CD:

He’s just a very gifted musician, and I know that in spite of his expectations, Jeff really enjoyed the concert also.

It was quite poignant to listen to Brian McKnight singing the songs live that I had playing on our very first Valentine’s Day together exactly 20 years ago to the day.

Afterwards, we got in the photo line. The people who were in line in front of us were interesting. One of the women liked to talk. A lot. She was telling anyone who would listen about all of the radio contests she’s won, all the meet and greets she has attended. She’s met Alicia Keys- twice. She met “Luda” last summer. I can’t remember all the other names she dropped- there were so many. She actually said, “My 1099 is pretty high, for all the stuff I’ve won.”

As I waited for my opportunity to meet him, I noticed my button on my shirt kept popping open. Jeff said, “I hear that happens a lot when Brian McKnight is around.”

It happened again right before I got to the front of the line, so I just draped the fabric over so it wouldn’t be visible, but in that photo at the top, my shirt is unbuttoned.

I thought about what I might say to him once I actually got up there, but when I was finally there, all words escaped me. I managed to choke out “Could you sign this to my daughter Zoe?” as I handed him the photo.

I’m pretty sure he thought I was mildly developmentally disabled.

How nice, though, that he would stay afterwards for an hour signing autographs and taking pics with his fans? That’s one of the many reasons I adore him.

It was an amazing Valentine’s Day- one I will never forget.

Oh, and PS…

Dear Diary: Musings From My 21 Day Social Media Fast (Pt 3 of 3)

Posted on January 24, 2014 by KB

Day 15–

Zoe left today for 6 days in Arizona with her Grandma. Packing her suitcase filled with swimsuits and shorts was strange.

The weather here is pretty gloomy and it made me think I need to be creating a little sunshine in my life. There are a few ways I like to do this-

Buy a pineapple. There’s nothing like a pineapple to remind me of sunshine, summer, tropical places.
Music. Make a playlist of songs that remind me of a warm vacation or a summer day. This is, of course, very personal. My playlist probably wouldn’t work for anyone but me. Songs that transport me mentally to warmer locales are songs that were popular around the time I went on my first trip to Hawaii in the early 80’s. “Let the Music Play” by Shannon, “Africa” by Toto, anything from Lionel Richie’s “Can’t Slow Down” album, and a lot of Hall and Oates. I know it’s weird, that’s why I said it’s a personal thing. General tropical or reggae music works too- Bruddah IZ, Inner Circle, Bob Marley. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zaGUr6wzyT8
Get some flowers. No roses- they need to be tropical. Here in the Seattle area we have the Hawaii General Store, and they sell freshly made plumeria and pikake leis. Sometimes I will make the 30 minute drive just to buy one to keep in my fridge. When I am feeling down or stressed, I open the fridge, pull out the plastic container and take a giant whiff of heaven. I also will grab a hyacinth if they are in season. Occasionally you can find mini pineapple plants at the grocery store. They don’t have flowers, but they make everything feel more exotic. Jasmine always smells yummy.
Another sensory thing I like to do is put on perfume or lotion that reminds me of the tropics. Kai perfume, Maui Rain perfume, ginger, plumeria, pikake, mango or coconut lotions. When you close your eyes and take a whiff it’s like for that moment you’re in an island paradise. Candles work too.
My local frozen yogurt shop has limited edition sorbets that come and go on a rotating basis. Currently they have POG (passion orange guava, also available at the store in juice form) but my favorite is the Dole pineapple whip like you can get at the Dole Plantation in Hawaii or at the Tiki room at Disneyland. I also like to mix coconut froyo in with my chocolate to give it a summery taste. My husband calls that “ruining it,” but he’s wrong. it’s amazing.

POG Sorbet

6. Movies/TV. “50 first dates,” “Just go with it,” “Honeymoon in Vegas,” “Lilo and Stitch” are some films with tropical themes. As with my music playlist, I have always connected “The Thorn Birds” with Hawaii because it came out around the time we went for my first trip. And of course, for TV shows,” Hawaii 5-0” and “Magnum PI” are two of my favorites. HGTV and National Geographic each have travel shows. A summery read can help you mentally escape also.

7. Bring color into my home. There’s nothing that gets me out of a mid-winter funk like bright colors. I think I may go hang out at the Tommy Bahama store for a while and just pretend I’m somewhere else, and then bring home a couple new throw pillows. Last year I painted a giant picture of a Caribbean waterfront scene.

8. Plan a vacation. ‘Nuff said.

Day 16–

Sydney made curry again today, this time when she showed up at lunchtime with three of her friends. I was still in my pajamas. (Don’t ask me why I was still in my pajamas at noon.) I’ve noticed that even after the pans have been thoroughly cleaned, when I set an empty pan on the burner to heat up, the smell of curry comes wafting up again. Don’t get me wrong- I love that she’s teaching herself to cook, and that she’s experimenting with interesting foods. But I think I’m ready for her to move on to something other than curry.

I went in search of a new trash can today for my kitchen. I have had my current cans (I have a second for recycling) for 10 years now, and they are definitely in need of replacement, but I’m having a tough time letting go. You see, the trash cans I have are 18 gallon trash cans. They are tall, slim and rectangular, and they fit perfectly up against my kitchen island. But they don’t make 18 gallon cans anymore, and it’s getting harder and harder to find the trash bags that fit them.

The standard kitchen trash can is 13 gallons. Many are round or oval, which won’t sit flush against my cabinets. Plus, that extra 5 gallons of trash space means that’s how much less the trash needs to be taken out. I’ve resigned myself to the reality I will never find another 18 gallon can, but I refuse to spend $130 for a stupid trash can. Unless it takes itself out, I don’t see how they can justify charging that much. I didn’t see any today that I can live with. The search continues…

Meanwhile, my maturity level doesn’t seem to be improving on this hiatus.

Parker: Hey! You already had a cookie!

Me: So? Mind your own beeswax.

Parker: Well, that kinda means I can have another one too.

Me: No, it doesn’t mean that. I made ‘em. I can eat as many as I want.

Sometimes it feels good to use the phrase “mind your own beeswax.” I think I will do it more often.

Day 17–

I scheduled myself a massage for today. Before you start thinking that I’m some pampered housewife, you should know that I go to Massage Envy, which is like the Target of massage places. It’s typically found in strip-malls and for the bargain price of 39$ you can get a decent one hour massage. I originally became a member when we lived in Huntington Beach. After trying several different people, I finally found the perfect masseuse. About 2 months later we moved.

Since we relocated up here in Washington, I have gone through a variety and have yet to find the one I want to commit to. I went to see one guy for quite a while, but he liked to talk religion and politics and I always came out of my massages more stressed than I went in.

The next guy was amaaaazing. I think at one point during a massage he had a foot up on the wall for leverage. He did something to the base of my skull that was pure ecstasy. About 2 weeks after my first appointment with him, I called to make another, and was told he had transferred. I went into a period of mourning.

I did the masseuse merry-go-round for another several months, and ended up with a young muscle-headed guy who worked at a body building supplement store when he wasn’t giving massages. He liked to talk football and conspiracy theories. At one point, he tried to tell me that he found out through genealogy that he was related to King David. You know, David. Bathsheba. Goliath. That David. Sometimes I would make up conspiracies and say “have you heard about…” just to hear what he would say.

I took a break from Massage Envy for over a year while I was in physical therapy from my car accident, so this was my first massage there in quite a while. As a matter of fact, they looked me up in the system and found that I had 16 massages saved up (you get one per month with a membership.)

When I called to make the appointment, the first person they offered was the religion/politics guy. I said, “Uh, who else do you have available?” The said another name, which I didn’t recognize. I thought unknown was better than the “Why did you stop seeing me?” conversation I would have to have with the other guy. Besides, I really needed to be able to relax.

I will say the new guy gave a decent massage. He’s got some strange affected whispery breathy voice that I’m not a fan of, but I’m willing to give him another chance. When he whispered, “How do you feel about me working your abs?” I almost bolted. He didn’t smell like smoke or his lunch, which is always a plus, and he didn’t talk except to ask about pressure. The sound of his hands slurping together as he oiled them up was a little off-putting, and they were sort of cold at first, but they warmed up. Since I have so many saved up, I’m going back in a week. Fingers crossed that I have got a keeper!

Day 18–

Have you seen the movie “About Time” with Rachel McAdams? If not, I highly recommend it. It’s a beautiful movie, and it probably didn’t get the attention it deserved from the general public. The premise is that a young man, Tim, is called into his father’s library to be told that the men in their family are able to travel back in time. They cannot travel forward, except back to the time they had come from, and they cannot travel beyond their own lives.

His initial goal is to use it to help him find a girlfriend. He does. And they create a beautiful life together. As time goes on he realizes the consequences of making changes in his choices. He has to be willing to let some bad events remain because in undoing the bad, sometimes it can undo the good in his life as well. We like to isolate incidents, but so much is connected, part of the progression of life. Like the domino effect.

It sounds like a silly movie, but in reality, it teaches a great lesson. After all that he experiences over the course of several years with this amazing ability, he says, “And in the end I think I’ve learned the final lesson from my travels in time; and I’ve even gone one step further than my father did: The truth is I now don’t travel back at all, not even for the day, I just try to live every day as if I’ve deliberately come back to this one day, to enjoy it, as if it was the full final day of my extraordinary, ordinary life.”

I, of course, had tears streaming down my face by this time. I feel as though that’s the point of this whole endeavor I have undertaken these past three weeks. I want to be present in my own life, to experience it fully, not just in pieces. I want to really see the people standing in front of me, I want to appreciate the small details, expand my horizons and live in joy.

Day 19–

Well, this morning when I got on my phone, I discovered that my Facebook app was open. Either someone has figured out my password and was looking at my account, or I did it in my sleep. At this point, I’d say either is a possibility. Are there many documented cases of Sleep-Facebooking?

If there ever was a day I wish I could be on Facebook, it’s today. The best part of Facebook is being able to share experiences with people near and far, and today I want to be cheering on my Seahawks with all my friends.

I bought a new jersey to wear- a Marshawn Lynch. They are so tough to come by I ended up with a youth XL. That a youth-sized shirt fits is great for my ego. That it has a giant patch on the front that says “XL,” not so much.

We are headed in a bit to the neighbors’ to watch the game. I went to the grocery store to grab stuff to make bean dip and it was a surreal experience. Except for two 49’er fans, every single person I saw had some sort of Seahawks gear on. There’s a palpable buzz in the air, everyone looking at each other with nervous smiles. Since the very last game of last season, we’ve all sensed this could be it. That finally, after all these years of disappointment, the refs gifting the Steelers a win in our only Super bowl appearance, this is our year.

Even Sydney is putting on a Seahawks shirt and heading to the church to watch the game on the giant screen.

________________________________________________________________

I can’t believe it. We won. We’re actually going to the Super Bowl.

I don’t know that I have ever watched a more stressful, aggravating, exciting game in my life.

I went from nervous eating to feeling nauseated.

I was sitting hunched forward. I was standing. I was up, I was down.

Parker had no clue what was happening, but when the other boys lost their minds with excitement, so did he.

When that ball tipped into the hands of Malcolm Smith it took me a moment to understand what it meant. My husband ran over to give me the double high fives and said “we’re going to the super bowl!” It was over. We won. There was screaming and hugging. I believe I launched myself awkwardly into the arms of one of my neighbors.

It was blissful, euphoric. A feeling relatively unknown to Seattle sports fans. And I savored every moment.

There’s been a lot of talk about Richard Sherman’s comments in his post-game interview. I have no intention of going into any long dissertation on the topic. It’s been talked about to death. I will only say, Richard Sherman is an intelligent, passionate player. He is a good man who gives back to this community and the one in which he grew up. I am proud that he is a Seattle Seahawk.

The end.

Me with Richard Sherman’s brother Branton

Day 20–

Today, we honor the legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King jr.

Today, I am reading, Twitter is afire with racist tweets.

Sickening.

There’s a common misperception that racial hate always stems from ignorance. If only that were true.

It’s probably because when someone spews racial epithets, they sound ignorant. Stupid. Moronic.

Many times their sentences are riddled with grammatical errors.

Often, their posts on Facebook and Twitter are filled with misspellings.

Unfortunately, if ignorance was the root cause, it could be solved with education.

However, when major university fraternities are hosting racially offensive theme parties, you start to realize it’s not just about ignorance.

Racists run the gamut from the least educated in our society to the elites.

The way I grew up, the environment in which I was raised didn’t prepare me for dealing with people who proudly, publicly post disgusting racially charged words for the whole world to read.

I continue to be shocked and horrified, and my black friends continue to be surprised at my shock and horror. Much to the contrary of the claims that people are constantly trying to cry racism even where none is intended, most of the racism that happens every day goes unreported. It’s just a part of life. It’s expected.

The outrage is reserved for naïve whites like me.

Somewhere along the way a contingent of our country decided that we live in a “post-racial” America. That we are so far removed from our past of slavery, segregation, institutional racism, that our having elected a biracial president means racism has ended.

It hasn’t. We’ve just gotten better at disguising it.

I hear people say they’re tired of this conversation on race. “Get over it already.” “It’s in the past.”

And then I see those who feel emboldened in their tweets, their Facebook postings, their interviews on international news channels.

I was going to post some examples, but I don’t want to give a forum to those people.

I don’t have far-reaching impact on the world around me. But I do have impact on my kids, and I realized a few years ago that it’s not enough to just not set a bad example for my kids, it’s imperative I set a good example. Not one based on platitudes, but one based on my deeply held beliefs regarding the value of all human beings.

I asked Parker if he knew why we celebrate Dr. King’s birthday. He said he couldn’t remember.

I tried to think of something that would help him understand, that he wouldn’t zone out while I was explaining.

“So, you know London’s parents?”

“Yes.”

“There used to be a time when it was against the law for them to be married. Because of the color of their skin.”

“You mean because his dad is brown?”

“Yes. And people would be mean to those who had brown skin. They forced them to do things they didn’t want to do. They didn’t let them live where they wanted to live, or work where they wanted to work. And you and London- people wouldn’t be okay with you being friends with each other. Just because his skin is darker than yours. That’s what Martin Luther King fought against. He fought for you to be able to be friends with London.”

His eyes got big.

He got it.

A couple of weeks ago, Zoe said ” I know what the N word is now.”

(Last year she came home from school saying that a kid in her class had told her there was such a thing, and she wanted to know if it was true. I said yes, but that we never use that word, and I didn’t feel she needed to know what it was.)

“Tell me what happened.”

“Well, I had a black crayon, and my friend was looking at it. Under the word black it had another word. She said, ‘that’s the N word.'”

“Well. No. Negro is Spanish for the color black. Pronounced differently, it’s the term that people used to use when referring to the people who are black. No one really uses it anymore, it’s outdated and offensive. But it’s not the N word. The N word comes from that word though.”

“Oh. ”

I have to admit, I was relieved. She’s gonna hear it eventually, but I’m glad to know that time hasn’t come yet. Until she understands the history of that word, until she understands why it’s not ok, how it’s been used, it is meaningless.

I kind of like that the word has no power in her mind. I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.

Day 21–

Well, this is it- my last full day off of Facebook. I’m a little apprehensive, to tell the truth. I don’t know what exactly to expect.

I picked Zoe up from the airport this morning. I’m happy to have her home following her week in Arizona with her grandma. I took her to lunch and she told me funny stories about her adventures.

Afterwards we headed to the pet store to pick out a fish to keep Angel company. Now we have a new goldfish named Juicy, and Zoe has renamed Angel “Bruno.” She also got herself a beta fish that she has named “Cali.”

A few people have asked me what I have learned about myself over the past three weeks. I wish I could say that I had this amazing life-transformative experience. It turns out I’m the same person I was 3 weeks ago. I have found that if I want to disconnect or mentally escape, I’ll find a way. I’d probably have to get stranded on a desert island without electronics in order to truly break myself of these habits I have created.

I did make more of an effort to connect face to face with people, and I have tried to really listen to the people who are talking to me. I have spent more time watching my kids, and engaging them in conversations than I have in quite a while. Most of Parker’s conversations have to do with video games or toys or something he saw on a show or a video game. But instead of just nodding my head absently and saying, “oh really?” (they have all caught on that I have been doing that when I am not really listening) I have tried to ask follow up questions. I’ve gotten insight into how they think and how they view things around them.

I’ve also noticed how much OTHER people use their phones and tablets to disconnect. I think that has been eye-opening, viewing others through the lens that I’m sure people have often seen me.

I’m not making promises about the future. I haven’t cured myself of my social media addiction. I do think I have learned to manage it a bit better.

I guess time will tell.

I’m excited to see what everyone has been up to. And what they’ve been eating.

Thanks for your patience during this experiment… And hopefully I didn’t lose you guys in the meantime.

It’s 11:55… Maybe I’ll just take a peek. What’s 5 minutes anyways?

Dear Diary: Musings From My 21 Day Social Media Fast (Pt2)

Posted on January 23, 2014 by KB

Day 8-

I picked out Parker’s clothes last night for him to wear to school today. He came downstairs wearing them and said, “I look like a DJ.” I’m not sure if that was a compliment or a complaint.

I got my hair done today, which is often my favorite day of the month (well, technically every 5 weeks.) I get terrible reception in the salon, and usually it drives me crazy that I can’t get on Facebook while I’m there. Instead I read my kindle and got pampered.

Meanwhile, Facebook started sending me emails and messages begging me to post something, like a clingy ex-girlfriend. After all this time, did you really think I had simply FORGOTTEN to post? Silence means there’s nothing to say, get it Facebook, ya stalker?

1:33 am? Really? Was it last call at the bar and you didn’t want to go home without one last try?

And now tonight I came to the end of Candy Crush. Again. I may have to take up knitting. Or drinking.

Or both.

I decided to fill my night by building a bookcase. I’m kinda impressed with myself about now.

I think the time equivalent for how long it took to put together is like 4 status updates and 15 games of Candy Crush. Yes, that’s how I measure time now.

Day 9–

When I got home from the grocery store tonight I had the following conversation with my husband-

Me: There were an inordinate amount of people wearing camouflage clothing at the store.

He: How could you tell?

I won’t tell you how long it took me for my brain to understand how funny that was. Let’s just say he’d already left the room by the time I got it and started laughing. They say you lose millions of brain cells with every kid. I have 4. (Kids not brain cells- although I do wonder sometimes…) You do the math. Seriously, you do the math, because I can’t do it anymore.

He went into the other room to do work on the computer while I made dinner and Zoe did her homework at the kitchen table.

Soon I heard him talking/kind of singing to himself.

J: No. I don’t want your number. No. I don’t wanna give you mine.

Me: (singing) And no, I don’t wanna meet you nowhere. No, don’t want none of your time.

Zoe: (singing)I don’t want no scrubs. A scrub is a guy who can’t get no love from me.

Me: (singing) Hanging out the passenger side of his best friend’s ride, trying to holler at me.

J: (singing from the living room) noooooo scruuuubs.

Me: I’m pretty sure this is the first time a family has ever done a multi-room round of “Scrubs.”

Zoe: What IS a scrub?

Me: (singing) A scrub is a guy who thinks he’s fly. He’s also known as a buster. Always talkin’ ‘bout what he wants and just sits on his broke ass.

Zoe: That doesn’t help.

Me: A scrub is a loser.

Zoe: Oh. That makes sense.

Her homework for tonight was to write a “How-to” paragraph. She had a difficult time coming up with a topic, and didn’t care for any of my suggestions.

Me: What about “How to make a bed?”

Zoe: I can’t write on that.

Me: Why?

Zoe: Because the maids make my bed.

Me: First of all, you should be making your own bed daily and not waiting for the housecleaners to do it every other week. Secondly, I cannot believe those words just came out of your mouth.

Zoe: Well it’s true.

I think I need to rethink some of my parenting strategies.

We spent the rest of the evening looking for northern lights through the rain clouds (no luck) and watching Lego Bigfoot videos like this Lego Bigfoot wedding video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g1ufkn3Ju5M

I never claimed we were a normal family.

Day 10–

My husband: What were those two eels from “The Little Mermaid” called?

Me: Flotsam and Jetsam

My husband: I think that’s what I’m going to call your boobs from now on.

I don’t even want to know what he saw that inspired that statement.

At least he didn’t compare me to Ursula

I took Sydney to the Mediterranean Kitchen today. Confession- it was my second time this week eating Shawarma. I may need a Shawarma intervention. Earlier this week I went to a place called” The Shawarma King” where a nice man named Mohammed made my food. I believe he was the aforementioned “Shawarma King,” but I didn’t have the nerve to ask him.

I now have garlic seeping out my pores. I don’t think there is enough mouthwash in this house to dissipate my breath.

Jeff told me the smell is so strong on my skin, my hair and my breath, if he closed his eyes and I started belly dancing and making jingling sounds, he’d swear he was in the Middle East.

Day 11–

Today we got a sneak preview visit to the new community pool in my mom’s town. Because she works for the school district, she got special passes. We drove through a heavy thunder storm to get there and Parker said, “Good thing it’s indoor, or the pool would be cancelled.”

As we drove through the valley, we noticed dozens and dozens of snow geese hanging out on the fields. We drove across the river over the bridge and Zoe shouted, “Bald eagle!”

Parker looked and said, “It has brown on the bottom and a white head! It IS a bald eagle!”

Zoe: “And what’s that over there?”

Me: “I think it’s a nest.”

Zoe: “Oh, you’re right. It is a nest.”

Parker: Yes, it’s a nest, Zoe. Good Zoe, you’re learning.

Me: How do you, at the age of 8 years old, have such a highly developed ability to be condescending?

Parker: I just do.

I blame his father.

After the pool (which was very cool, by the way) we picked up fried chicken (Heaven Sent, formerly Ezell’s. As Parker said, “It’s my favorite kind of turkey!”) and headed home to watch the Seahawks play the New Orleans Saints.

It was one of the times when being off Facebook was extra difficult. I asked my husband to go and see what everyone was saying about the game.

“Well, I see a lot of ‘Go Hawks!’ but not a lot else. Oh and some lady posted a picture of her bright green tennis shoes with a caption ‘Oh yeah. Let’s keep this party going!’”

I knew who that was. It was my mother and her lucky Seahawk shoes.

It’s only crazy if it doesn’t work, right?

In honor of the Hawks’ brilliant defeat of the Saints, I made bread pudding smothered in rum sauce. To my friends who are New Orleans fans- your team didn’t play well, but your food is delicious!

Day 12–

A week and a half remains of my fast. I’ve passed the halfway point, yet it still seems interminable.

I went to bed last night to the smell of Sydney making curry for her friend. I decided that I will continue my trend of trying new foods by making a visit to the Indian restaurant down the street. I am praying that it won’t destroy my intestines.

Sydney reheated her curry from last night, just as we had finally eliminated the smell from the house. I’m not sure, but the smells emanating from my house lately may be a violation of the HOA rules.

Tonight, my husband casually dropped this into our conversation-

J: What do you think of me wearing vests?

Me: What kind of vests? Three piece suit vests? Sweater vests?

J: Any kind of vest. I’m thinking of becoming the “vest guy.”

Me: You already were the “vest guy.” That was after your “Tommy Bahama Guy” phase.

J: I’m thinking of bringing it back. I might even add fishing vests into the mix.

Me: No.

Seriously, I’m doing this for his own good.

Day 13–

Today I took Nathan to his quarterly appointment with the endocrinologist. He’s hit 5’5 and we are hoping for 3 more inches of growth. Considering how far off the bottom of the growth chart he was when he was first diagnosed as growth hormone deficient at the age of 2, 5’5 feels like a miracle.

When we came out of Children’s Hospital I gave my ticket to the valet who handed it back to me and pointed through the lot to where my car was parked. Thankfully they don’t allow tipping because he would SO not get one.

As we came closer to my car, I caught a glimpse of this beauty:

Upon further inspection, I realized I was looking at a car completely devoted to hydroplane racing. Hydroplane racing is something I think about one day a year- Seafair Sunday. The rest of the year I forget it exists. But this guy- he lives it 365.

I would think every time he got behind the wheel of his car he’d feel like he was in a race… that he’s losing. Badly.

After the appointment we went to Dick’s drive in. For those who don’t know, Dick’s is the place where the cool hang out. The swass like to play and the rich flaunt clout.

Before you start questioning my sanity, check this out:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SBPpy_SVV_0

Dick’s is a local fast food icon, where you can get great burgers and fries for not a lot of money. It’s a walk up, so we ate it in the car. I tried not to make eye contact with the guy in the car next to me as I shoved fries slathered in tartar sauce into my face. It’s all part of the experience.

When we got home, Sydney was in the kitchen beginning “operation curry- day 3.” I’m really never getting this smell out of my house.

Tonight was the second episode of “The Bachelor.” Parker posted up on the end of my bed with his head resting on his hand. Sometimes I wonder what goes through his head when he watches this show.

Jeff: You know what’s better than Juan Pablo?

Me: No.

Jeff: Two Pablo.

Me: You’re so wrong for that.

Jeff: You know, I just realized what my watch collection is missing.

Me: A Pacman watch?

Jeff: Yes! How did you know?

Me: What else could it be?

Jeff: I had one when I was a kid. It had a joystick on top, but it broke.

Me: I think mine only had buttons.

Jeff: Buttons would be way better. I’m gonna look it up and see if I can get one.

Me: I’d like to point out the mind-meld that just took place here. It’s like we share a brain or something.

Jeff: Yeah. It’s kind of scary. Hey, do you know what the Bachelor calls his house?

Me: No, what?

Jeff: Juan pueblo.

Me: You’re killing me.

Day 14–

This morning I met my friend Lisa for coffee. We met up at 1030 and didn’t leave the coffee shop until 1. When I got there she said, “I’d like to know why my son is here and not in class.” I looked over, and sure enough, her 20 year old son was sitting at a table with his headphones in.

“Oh last week I asked Sydney the same question. It turns out they don’t have class on Tuesdays anymore.”

“Interesting. I wonder where he’s been going .”

“Probably here.”

“Probably.”

Kids these days. Sydney was gone at a church retreat last month and forgot to mention it to me. I posted on her Facebook page at 1AM asking her where she was and Lisa responded that she was probably at the retreat. If they weren’t such good kids, we’d wring their necks.

Her son came over to where we were seated and stood, towering over us. We looked down at his feet and he said, “Yeah, so I have two different shoes on today.”

She said, “I see that. How exactly did that happen?”

“Well, I wasn’t really looking, and I just slipped them on. “

We’ve all done that once or twice. I told her I can’t count the number of times I have discovered my shirt was on backwards or inside out. Or both. She told me she spent a whole day wearing one brown boot and one black boot before she realized. She said, “The crazy thing is they were two different heights. I hobbled around the whole day and it never occurred to me why I was uneven.”

I always love my time with Lisa. She’s funny and smart and insightful. She’s the real deal, and there aren’t many like that out there, so I’m grateful for her. And she puts up with my babbling.

I’m glad that my Social Media fast created more urgency for face to face encounters, because that 2 1/2 hours with Lisa was better than scrolling on Facebook any day.

Dear Diary- Musings From My 21 Day Social Media Fast (Pt 1)

Posted on January 22, 2014 by KB

Well, I’m back. You may not have even noticed I was gone, but boy did I miss you all. Today marks my first day back using Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and Instagram after a 3 week hiatus. I’m not gonna lie- it’s been tough. Putting it in perspective, though, I’m sure there are things that people have given up that were more difficult than giving up social media. My friend recently quit smoking. As “addicted” to Facebook as I have been, it doesn’t come close to the strength required to give up smoking. Others who participated in this New Year’s fast gave up sweets, meats, music and/or TV.

And I do have to admit, as the director of social media for our company, I didn’t abstain from social media completely. I did have to log in to our company Facebook and Twitter accounts, but I promise I didn’t enjoy it and I didn’t take a single peek at my own accounts.

The following are my journal entries from the days I was on the fast. I don’t know if I made any monumental self-discoveries, but it has been an interesting three weeks. I spent more time doing things than reading about other people doing things, so that’s something, right?

I’ll be posting these in increments so as not to make for laborious reading.

Day 1– January 1, 2014:

Well, it’s New Year’s Day. My fast has officially begun. What’s 3 weeks in the scheme of life? It’s nothing. A few years ago I gave up sweets for Lent- that was pretty tough. Six weeks without chocolate, without dessert. If I can do that, I can do this.

I’m sure the shakes will go away eventually.

In an ironic twist, I’m sitting here with no one to communicate with. My first attempt to work on my real life communication by eliminating Facebook communication, and I’m left all alone.

Our New Year’s Eve was pretty uneventful. Zoe was at her aunt’s, Sydney and Nathan were with their friends, Parker spent most of the night playing games on the computer, and Jeff spent his time either working on his laptop or catching up on episodes of “Boardwalk Empire.” At about 10pm I popped open a bottle of Moet & Chandon Champagne. I forgot that you are supposed to cover it with a towel, so after loosening the cork, I watched it slowly work its way out, exiting the bottle in a massive explosion, ricocheted off the kitchen ceiling and landed across the room, nearly nailing Jeff in the head. I’ll work on better trajectory for next New Year’s Eve.

We feasted on crackers and cheese and sipped champagne until the ball dropped and fireworks came shooting out of the Space Needle. Parker had managed to stay awake, so he got sandwiched between us for our 21^st New Year’s kiss.

After putting Parker to bed, we headed to our own room. While I was in the bathroom Jeff turned off the light, and as I made my way through the dark, I managed to trip over something, my arms went flying, and so did my champagne glass.

Me: See?! This is why we need the lights on!

Jeff: Between the cracker crumbs that you dropped down the front of your shirt earlier and the cheap champagne you just spilled all over yourself, a person could take communion off of you.

Me: It’s not cheap champagne! It was $39 on sale!

Jeff: Yeah, you’re just like Jay-Z with your $39 champagne.

It’s going to be a long three weeks.

Day 2–

I kept myself busy yesterday by taking down all the interior Christmas decorations. It’s nice to get the house back in order, and it kept me somewhat distracted from what I may be missing out on.

Sydney got a wild hair and decided to make pesto from scratch. We didn’t use a recipe and didn’t have a ton of basil, so it became quite an ordeal. In the end, we had dishes and appliances everywhere for what netted out to be about 3 tablespoons of pesto.

My mother-in-law came by to grab my leftover boxes from our flood remodel. One of her sister’s friends’ houses burned down a few days ago. It was a total loss. She was going over to see if there was anything to salvage. It sounds like most everything is either covered in soot or smoke damaged. Definitely a good reminder that no matter how many times I think about setting fire to my garage rather than cleaning it out, the reality of a house fire is devastating. I’m counting my blessings, messy as they may be.

Today I learned a new appreciation for working moms. We had our company yearly kickoff meeting, which required getting Parker up early, dressed and fed before dropping him off at his grandma’s for the day, as well as getting myself up and showered and ready to leave by 830. I know that for many of you, this is an average day in your life, but it’s not in mine, and I salute you for making it happen.

I started writing a fictional story today. I can’t tell yet whether it’s crap or not, but it has to be better than some of the drivel I have come across lately. FYI- don’t ask me what I’m writing about. I can’t talk about it or I will have to stop. It’s just a thing with me; probably why I have about 30 partially written stories over the years. My goal for 2014 is to actually get it finished and send it off somewhere to see if I can get it published. Hey- you never know until you try, right?

Day 3–

This morning I awoke to the sound of Zoe and Parker loudly playing “Mario World 3D.” Not my favorite way to start the day. I had told my mother that we would make a trip down to the Pacific Science Center in Seattle to check out an exhibit on race in America (ethnicity, not fast cars) and today was the day. I was waffling about whether to wake Nathan up and have him watch them or bring them with me. I decided I would bring them.

Me: We’re going to the Science center today.

Parker: I don’t want to.

Me: I don’t care. I don’t want you staying home, sitting around doing nothing, playing video games all day.

Parker: (blank stare) How is that doing nothing?

Yeah.

The exhibit was great, although having the kids there definitely limited me on my ability to take my time and really absorb it.

Parker looking through his skin

After we finished with that part of the exhibit, we headed for the rest of the Science Center. Of course, being the genius science-minded people they are, you have to go through the souvenir/toy shop on the way to the rest of the exhibits. We got waylaid there for a bit before, upon promise of a return, I finally dragged Parker out of there.

The kids ended up really enjoying the science center, particularly the animatronic dinosaurs

He enjoyed this more than it appears

and the butterfly garden.

That butterfly garden was amazing, not just for the flowers and butterflies, but also for the calm it brought over Parker. They emphasize you have to walk slowly and carefully, so as not to step on a butterfly that might be “resting” on the ground. He spent quite a while just watching the butterflies and the fish in the pond. Zoe figured out that the Koi liked to eat the lily pads, so she fed them. I’m pretty sure that broke about a dozen rules, but it was so serene I just let her.

They also liked the body exhibit, and their favorite aspect was the aging computers. The program took a photo of your face, and then showed a natural aging process, along with aging that is influenced by smoking, obesity and sun exposure. They tried to get my mother to do it, but she said, “I already know what I look like old.”

Zoe at 70?

When we finally got back to the gift shop, Parker decided on the Thor hammer. It probably wasn’t my smartest parenting move. Sitting in Seattle rush hour traffic, I eventually had to take it from him, as he was whacking the back of my seat and his sister’s fingers with it.

Overall it was a great day, though, and I’m glad we went.

Day 4–

I thought about Facebook a lot this morning. I miss it so much I felt a little queasy thinking about it. I’m trying to take my mind off of it by doing laundry and watching cheesy lifetime romance movies.

The last one I watched was about a woman waking up to find herself living the life she had dreamed of, only to discover the reality of the fantasy wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Not a novel concept for a movie, but it did make me think- be careful what you wish for. Many times what we believe is a step towards a better life is really just exchanging one set of problems for another set.

You know, like in Jay Z’s song “Holy Grail.”

I noticed today that Candy Crush keeps trying to get me to send extra moves to two friends who passed away last year. “_____ has been stuck for 164 days. Send them extra moves.” It was a sobering experience. Two vibrant young women whose lives were cut short by cancer, and I’m spending my time playing Candy Crush. I’ve given up Facebook and Twitter, but that doesn’t mean I’m doing anything other than biding my time until I can get back on. The whole point of this fast was to improve myself and my life. I know it’s only day 4, but I still don’t think I’m getting it.

On a side note, I’ll bet Heaven has unlimited Candy Crush lives.

Day 5–

Delirium has set in. I keep hearing voices…

Turns out it’s my children talking to me. I wonder how long that’s been going on.

On the bright side, I’ve figure out how to get Parker interested in football. All I needed to do was sit him at the kitchen table with his homework in front of him and the game on TV. Suddenly he can’t tear his eyes away from the screen.

Day 6–

The kids went back to school today. Hooray!

Zoe isn’t feeling well, but I told her to suck it up and go to school. I can’t tell whether I’m the meanest mom ever, or I’m teaching her good life skills.

I took her to the walk-in clinic, which turned into a 2 ½ hour ordeal. I’m sure we’ll both end up coming down with some horrendous disease from sitting amongst all those sick people.

Tonight was the official first night of the “Bachelor.” I have been watching this show since it began in 2001. I think that technically makes me an expert.

Case in point: I picked the girl most likely to have a meltdown simply based on her intro segment. Not only was I right, she completely came unhinged before the end of the first cocktail party on the very first night.

Jeff said, “You were right. You spotted the crazy. I think you were tuned in to her frequency.”

I pretended to ignore his implication.

I always wonder what the friends and family of these emotionally fragile (unstable) women are thinking by encouraging them to go on this show. They should be in therapy, not plying themselves with booze and thrown into a houseful of catty women, just so they can be rejected on national TV.

And yet, this is why we watch.

Oh, and the quest for true love, blah blah blah. I think after all these years I have developed a healthy cynicism for the whole endeavor, in spite of my inner romantic wanting to believe in fairy tale happy endings.

The limo pulls up, and the girls begin to shriek and giggle. I mumble to myself, “Girls are stupid.”

My husband responds, “Oh like you never acted like that?”

After a long silent stare I said, “Do you even KNOW me at all?”

Trust me, I’ve never been the type to titter and flutter around a man. I’m more the “punch him in the arm” type. Less Betty Boop, more Lucy Van Pelt.

As these women pour out of the limo, they’ve already imbibed more than enough alcohol to enable their truly awkward introduction shenanigans. Hint to Juan Pablo- Any woman who shows up on the first night with a fake baby bump talking about having your baby…run! As fast as those nice little soccer legs of yours will carry you. Run far away.

I did like Andi the attorney, though. I said, “She’s cute and smart. She’s a prosecutor.”

Zoe: “She’s a prostitute?!?”

This is how nasty rumors get started.

I’m a little stunned by the reaction of the girl who received the first impression rose. I don’t think anyone in the history of the show has ever answered the question, “Will you accept this rose?” with a grimace, a long pause and a terse, “Sure.”

This, of course, means she’s likely to be the one he will chase after the whole season. Mark my words.

Day 7–

I’d have to say the most frustrating part of this whole experience is the fact that I’m not cheating, but everyone has taken it upon themselves to try to catch me doing what I said I wasn’t going to do.

Now, if I had said to them, “I don’t think I have enough self-control to do this on my own without supervision. Please harass me several times throughout the day to make sure I’m not on Facebook,” then I could understand. But I didn’t. This was my choice, and if I fail, I am the one who has to live with it. I’m not a fan of being babysat.

Today at school pickup my friend said to Parker, “Thanks a lot Parker. Now that you have an Instagram account, MY son wants an Instagram account.”

I looked at him.

“You have an Instagram account? Since when?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

I looked at Zoe.

“Did you help Parker create an Instagram account without my knowledge or permission?”

“Yes, but he hasn’t posted anything yet.”

I’m only off Social media for a week and I have one of my kids creating Instagram accounts, and, so I hear, a Facebook friend using a close-up photo of my t-shirt (boobs) as his cover photo.

Fantastic.

One week down, two to go.

C Is For Cookie… And Communication

Posted on December 30, 2013 by KB

The link above is for a classic Sesame Street clip about communication. Say it with me children- communicaaation.

Communication is a funny thing. It can be a thousand page novel or a single word. An hour long speech or the chorus of a song. It could be a gesture or a glance. A simple touch.

Often much is communicated through complete and total silence. (Although not usually what the non-communicator thinks is being communicated)

Miscommunication isn’t a funny thing. Miscommunication leads to anger, resentment, frustration, hurt, sadness, missed opportunities.

Back in history, communicating with those not close by meant days, weeks, months of waiting for a reply. Today we can send a message in an instant.

And yet we continue to struggle to truly communicate.

I “communicate” a lot. I’m active on Facebook, somewhat on Twitter, I text, I email, I blog. Yet somehow, I am losing my ability to truly interact and communicate with people.

When you call me, I likely won’t answer. Why have a whole telephone conversation complete with awkward moments when I can say what I have to say and then it’s over?

I used to like to talk on the phone. I have spent hours on the phone with friends, family. In my past dating life I could spend all night talking on the phone, falling asleep to the voice on the other end of the line.

That’s a big part of how my husband and I fell in love- when we weren’t even dating we would talk on the phone for hours at a time and never get bored with each other. We talked about our plans for the future, our dreams, our past, the silly things that happened throughout the day.

After we were living together, every night felt like having a sleepover with my best friend. We would talk about our own lives, we’d talk philosophy, religion, politics, whatever.

Now, many evenings are spent with him on his tablet trolling Reddit, while I’m on my phone scrolling through Facebook or playing Candy Crush.

We have to purposely set aside time to talk with each other now. We have to set our phones down and look each other in the eye with intent to listen and understand. It doesn’t come as easy as it used to.

He still likes to talk on the phone, and he makes phone calls whenever he gets in the car. (Don’t worry, he has Bluetooth.) I, however, turn up the music and pretend I don’t have a phone. If my phone rings, I will only answer if I think it’s important. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Text me what I need to know.

My kids give me grief about how much time I spend on Facebook. Funny how this means of communicating with all of my “friends” has impeded real communication with the people standing right in front of me.

There are a lot of people I “talk” to on Facebook whose voices I have never heard. I’m not saying that’s a terrible thing. One of my favorite books of all time is “84 Charing Cross Road,” a true story about letter correspondence between a man and a woman that spans more than 20 years. Their friendship was real, despite their never having met, laid eyes on each other or spoken on the telephone.

And I’m not saying that my friendships on Facebook aren’t real. Some are with those I used to see all the time, some are with those I see sporadically, some are with those I have never physically met. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t real. It just means they are limited. They don’t require much of me.

If you spend most of your time in level 1 and 2, you might want to examine a few things in your life. I know I am.

I think part of what is so appealing about electronic communication is that it removes uncomfortable emotion from difficult conversations. I don’t have to SEE your hurt, your anger, your frustration. You don’t get to SEE my hurt, my vulnerability, my insecurities.

I’m also a writer, not a speaker. I’m the type who can think of something clever and witty to respond… 5 hours after the conversation. When I speak, my emotions overcome my brain function. I do a lot of sputtering and then my mind goes blank.

When I type, I can “speak” with confidence, especially knowing I can edit or delete before sending. I can allow you to “see” as much or as little of me, my heart, my soul, as I want.

Why is communication so difficult? Because it involves revealing ourselves; The good, the bad, the ugly.

It’s so much easier to say nothing than to say, “It hurts me when I see that you had an event where you invited everyone but me,” “Your insensitivity to my situation was painful,” “Your lack of support is deeply disappointing.”

It’s so much easier to say nothing than to say, “I’m scared,” “You hurt me,” “Why am I not enough?” “I don’t want to lose you.”

Easier, maybe, than being angry or acting indifferent.

Romantic relationships, family relationships, close friendships- these are the areas where the most miscommunication takes place. These are the people in our lives that truly matter, so why do we allow so much time to go by before resolving communication issues? Why are we ok with seething over a perceived wrong, instead of allowing the “offender” to make things right? Why would we choose to dwell in that nebulous area of wondering, instead of asking the questions? Why hold grudges instead of fixing the problem?

I think most of the time we are afraid of the answers we will get.

“Because we didn’t want you there.” “Because you made a choice that I cannot accept.” “Because I don’t believe in you.” “Because I just don’t feel it.” “Because there’s nothing you can do to make this right.”

So we stay with the unknown. It’s emotionally safer than confronting reality. We can project our own thoughts and feelings onto another, justify and bolster our opinions and feelings about them.

There have been a lot of times where I have had whole conversations in my head with someone else. By the time I have an actual conversation with them about the issue, I find that they don’t usually react the way I had predicted they would. Humility where I expected defensiveness. Hurt where I had expected anger. Confusion about how I had come to the conclusion that they felt or thought a certain way.

The truth is, some people are terrible at real communication. They just are. If you ask them, they are often baffled about how what they said or didn’t say, did or didn’t do, is completely misinterpreted by others.

There are those who use communication (or lack thereof) as a weapon or self-defense mechanism.

There are those who use communication (or lack thereof) as a means of control and manipulation.

There are those who think you should “just know,” regardless of what they are showing and telling you.

I’m a firm proponent of saying what you mean, and meaning what you say. Don’t say something unless you really mean it. And don’t leave things unsaid that need to be known. It won’t get you where you want to be in that relationship. Unless where you want to be is NOT in that relationship.

I believe that if you care about someone, you should tell them. If you’re hurt by something they did, tell them. Give them an opportunity to make it right. If you’re angry or feel disrespected, try to understand where they are coming from, but tell them how you feel. They may not realize, and if you don’t give them a chance, a whole relationship can be destroyed.

I should point out that communication is not talking at someone, it is talking with someone. It’s not about getting your point across, it’s about respecting someone enough to keep the air clear between you. It’s about relating to someone on a deeper level.

Having said all that, I have a minor announcement to make. Starting January 1, 2014, I will be on a 21 day social media fast. My goal is to work on my interpersonal communication skills, to be more present in my physical life and not in my electronic one, to take time to write, read and pray that would normally be sapped by the time I typically spend on Facebook.

It was a difficult decision for me- an actual food fast would be easier. And you all know that’s saying something.

I told my daughter yesterday as I tearfully described what I was considering that I felt like I would be putting in jeopardy what I have been building here with this blog and my Facebook page. She assured me that my loyal readers (all 5 of you) will understand what I’m trying to do, and will still be here when I return.

I hope to come back with a fresh perspective, renewed mind, and better personal relationships. I’ll be sure to take notes on all the things that happen around here so you won’t miss a thing.

Thank you all for your support these past several months, and for (hopefully) understanding about this brief hiatus. Honestly, you probably won’t even notice I’m gone.

Meanwhile I’ll be over here doing deep breathing exercises and self- control mind techniques to stay away.

I’ll leave you with this: Talk to each other. Life is too short to dwell in misunderstandings. Tell those you love that you love them. Leave no doubts. Tell those you’ve hurt that you’re sorry. Tell those that have hurt you the truth, and allow for reconciliation.

Oh, and did I mention tell those you love, “I love you?” Do it.

Don’t end up like this guy.

A Mongoose Isn’t A Bird- The Trip That Keeps On Giving (Hawaii Part 4)

Posted on November 14, 2013 by KB

I have a confession to make. I’m getting senile. It’s only been a month since our trip to Hawaii and already many of the stories and events are fading. I wrote myself some notes and I found myself staring at them this morning trying to decipher what in the world I was talking about. Honestly, they look like the ramblings of a mad woman.

So, I will do my best today to remember what the heck it all means.

Way back in Zoe’s birthday post http://kbjackson.com/a-turtly-awesome-10th-birthday-hawaii-part-2/ I failed to mention something that happened at dinner that night.

We were seated at a long table, Zoe of course at the head. I was next to Zoe, and my brother and sister in-law were at the other end, so I often had to strain to hear the conversations going on. At one point Brooke, my sister-in-law, was telling a story about a mongoose.

Over Parker’s head I said to Jeff, “What’s she talking about?”

He said, “A mongoose.”

I said, “You know a mongoose is a bird, right?”

He gave me a strange look, but said nothing.

The next day the topic of the mongoose came up again. Jeff said, “You know a mongoose isn’t a bird.”

“Yes it is. I think it’s a white bird with a long neck.”

“No. It isn’t. A mongoose is a rodent.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Google it.”

And so I did.

This is a mongoose:

I have no idea what I was thinking is a mongoose, but this wasn’t it.

Of course, because I am RARELY ever wrong about ANYTHING, this became great fodder for my family.

The day after we went to the Polynesian Cultural Center http://kbjackson.com/who-let-the-dogs-out-hawaii-part-3/ Jeff stayed back at the hotel with Parker and Nathan, while Toni, Sydney, Zoe and I went back up to Kualoa Ranch. http://www.kualoa.com/

Sydney was a big fan of “Lost” and one of her birthday requests while we were there was to do a “Lost” site tour.

It turns out that our tour guide wasn’t a big fan of “Lost” and therefore didn’t focus a lot on it. There are a ton of shows and movies that have been filmed on this property, and in fact the other day while I was in bed sick and catching up on “Hawaii 5-0” Zoe and I noticed that they were showing scenes filmed in the World War 2 bunkers we had gone into on the tour.

Zoe in a bunker

Sydney gets “Lost” in the bunker (He looks pretty annoyed with her)

During the tour, our guide talked about the history of the ranch, its WW2 occupation by the Navy, and how it became a popular location site for filming.

She also brought up the mongoose. I could see Sydney smiling out of the corner of my eye as the guide told us how the mongoose came to be in Hawaii. I tried not to make eye contact.

Hawaii has a rat problem. Some time back some dude thought he would solve the rat problem by bringing in a predator- the mongoose. The trouble was, the rats come out at night and the mongoose (mongeese?) come out in the day time. And never the twain shall meet. Now Hawaii has a rat problem AND a mongoose problem. And now I know more about the mongoose than I ever hoped to know. At this point it’s in contention for my least favorite animal.

When we got back from the bus tour we noticed the hundred and one had arrived- but they were all going on the horseback riding tour. Trying to navigate that crowd was like a salmon swimming upstream.

We headed back down into Waikiki and made plans for dinner. We decided to take the trolley, which is pretty convenient and only $2/person. Unfortunately it was a busy night because 2 full trolleys came by before we were able to squeeze onto what would turn out to be the greatest bus ride any of us have ever taken. About 5 minutes into the ride, our driver said that he thought we needed a little spark to get us going. He turned up the volume and began playing “Celebration” by Kool and the Gang. As we drove he would start and stop to make the trolley “dance.” At one point, he started calling out people who weren’t singing. Parker thought this was all terrifying, while Zoe thought it was the greatest thing ever.

Once “Celebration” was done, he moved on to “YMCA.” Most of the trolley was doing the hand motions. Even people on the street were doing it as we waited at a stop light. At one point, a woman on a bus next to us seemed to have some sort of breakdown because she was angrily pointing and yelling at us in Japanese.

There is video of this fun ride, however Sydney’s privacy settings on her Facebook account won’t allow me to show it. I attempted to screen shot the driver and although these pictures are hazy, you get the gist.

Our driver clapping and dancing

The light turned but he still managed to make the Y in YMCA

We rode the trolley several times during the course of the trip. Every other time the driver stayed silent except to announce stops. Which just goes to show- Your attitude about life can turn an ordinary bus ride into an event to remember.

The next day we drove out to Hanauma Bay to go snorkeling. All the pamphlets said “get there early,” but we had no idea that meant like 8am. We arrived around 930, only to be told we couldn’t even pull into the parking lot, it was full. They told us to come back and try again in 20 minutes. We headed down the highway another few minutes until we reached a lookout point. It was spectacular.

We headed back up to the entrance to the parking lot and were allowed in. I had been concerned we were never getting in.

They take people down in groups, following a short video that explains about the bay, what you will see there and how to preserve the fragile ecosystem of the bay. It’s a pretty long hike down, or you can pay to have a tram take you.

Even on a Wednesday in October that place was busy. We found a spot to settle in.

For months Parker had talked about going snorkeling. He’s been snorkeling in our bathtub with a mask, practicing. So when the day finally came…

He was ready.

Until he put his face in the ocean.

He didn’t like the flippers, and the waves freaked him out. He ended up hanging right around the edge of the water, never going too far.

He missed out. Somewhere we have an underwater camera with undeveloped pictures that Zoe took. I have seemingly misplaced it. You’ll have to take my word for it- the fish were amazing.

We spent an awful lot of time in the car on this trip. As a result there were a lot of random conversations. At one point Zoe decided we should start a family band. She put her father as lead singer, which made absolutely no sense, as he couldn’t hold a tune in a bucket. I think she assigned Parker the triangle.

Sydney said I should cover all of today’s hits and call it “Mom Bop.”

My taste in music was challenged at one point, so we ended up putting on the Disney Pandora station. This led to a whole conversation about the Little Mermaid, and her voice, and what kind of bargain it was to give up your voice to get the guy.

Jeff said, “It would be worth it.”

He just likes the idea of a pretty woman with no voice.

And I think he likes the idea of me with no voice.

My mother-in-law was trying to understand my family at one point. My dad has two children from his first marriage, my mom has two from hers. They got married, and had me.

“Oh, so you’re the only only?”

Well, did my husband have a field day with that comment. “Oh, she’s the only only all right. Between Zoe, who calls herself ‘the awesome’ and Miss ‘Only only’ over here, you can see what I’m dealing with.”

For the rest of the trip Zoe and I were referred to as “The awesome and the only only.”

Haters are gonna hate, what can I say?

We saw a lot of sites, went to a lot of events, but in the end the true memories were made on those car rides, in silly conversations and unplanned moments.

I promise I only have one more Hawaii post planned. It was Parker’s birthday and it was a day to remember. There was Mickey Mouse, a shirtless man throwing flaming swords and I got a tattoo. What more could an 8 year old ask for?

He really just wanted me to get a picture of the woman behind him

Author Kate B Jackson

kbjackson.com

Category Archives: Relationships