If Heath Ledger wins the Oscar

Heath, may I be so bold as to suggest this speach?

"Wow. What an incredible honor. As many of you know, the stage may be the actor's medium, but film is the medium of the director, so I give credit for my performance to Ang Lee and his brilliant coaching and vision. I also would like to thank Annie Proulx, [insert random people here: lawyer, agent, wife, parents, other inspirations].

You know, many people have asked me how I prepared for this role. Did I, an Australian man born in 1979, have any experiences that were similar to those of my character, Ennis Del Mar, a gay cowboy in 1960s Wyoming? Could I relate to his forbidden passion? What these people really want to know, is whether or not I've had a 'gay experience'.

I'd like to clear the air on this subject. I can totally, and in every way, relate to Ennis, and so can all of you. Haven't we all felt the bitter sting of lonliness at some point in our lives? Haven't we all had moments when we felt that no one, not even our families, really knew who we were? Haven't we all felt the regret of having not risked, and therefore, not truly lived?

This movie is not about "the gay experience," whatever that could possibly mean. It is about the human experience. And I would argue that if there is a "gay experience," it most certainly is at its core a human one, primarily. What I learned from this movie was that certain emotions cross the human-made boundaries of generation, country of origin, class, occupation, and yes, sexual orientation.

Thank you so much for your praise and for this high honor."

[Author's appreciation for this article , by Erik Lundegaard, which inspired this post.]

The Power of Positive Thinking

I live in suburbia. This is the suburb to beat all suburbs. As my friend Meagaan says, other suburbs around the country are based on Orange County. We moved here for Scott's job, and the fact that he loves this job is why we'll be here for a while. I am thrilled that he is happy and learning at work and so I want to make this place, suburb-though-it-is, a happy place for me, too.

In that spirit, here is my list of top ten things I like about living in Orange County:

10. Where else can you catch a live show with Mike Baas?*

9. Every freeway has a carpool lane that is reserved for carpools all day long. I have 3 people in my car always, so I always am in compliance. I love this. And since Scott drives a hybrid, he gets to go in those lanes even by himself. It beats having to read the fine print about "during commute hours" and nonsense like that.

8. The Christmas lights. Seriously, is there like a rule that you have to have an obscene amount of whirring lights emanating from your property at Christmastime? In unison, all our neighbors put up lights and/or flags and/or snowmen and/or candy canes along the walkways and/or glowing nativity sets and/or flashing stars of David the first weekend after Thanksgiving. It's like it was mandatory. I loved it--it was such a treat to go for an evening walk and see all the houses lit up. However, I wondered after spending 6 hours and many swear words putting up my own lights, what would happen if we all spent that time and money volunteering and donating each winter instead of putting up lights. World peace? End of poverty?

7. The libraries. Each one has its own children's librarian and weekly story hour. Craft activity and everything. They are serious about kindergarten preparation here. It is like a sport in these parts.

6. Related to #7, some of the book store story times are so good they beat out the libraries. There is a Borders story time on Tuesdays at 11:30 for which you need to arrive at 11:00 to get a good spot. The woman who does it is a mix of funky alternachick, loo-loo lost her mind, and rap star. She makes funny noises with her tongue and gets 30 moms who are generally too cool to make fools of themselves in designer jeans to imitate her. This has made her my hero. Plus, she always wears orange. A sound system, puppet stage, a dancing monkey for each kid, and slinkies are involved. But I've only seen her actually read a book once. Hmmm. Grace wants to go everyday. Alas, it's only once a week.

5. The multitudes of playgrounds here. Good lord there must be one playground for every hundred people or something. And they're chalk-full of cool equipment, like twisty slides, mini-climbing walls, trip-trap bridges, those telephone things where you can speak to someone on the other side of the park, and zip lines, all over that special industrial material that's made from recycled things and bounces all falling kids upright onto their feet again like cats with nine lives. While we're on this topic, does anyone know what you call those merry-go-round things that aren't really merry-go-rounds that we all used to play on as kids? They whirl you and your 4 friends around in a circle until you fly off or barf? I just found a new park that has one of those! Yeah barfing merry-go-round thing!

4. Proximity to grandparents. Scott parents are awesome with our kids and live 20 minutes away. Yeah free babysitting! Plus I like hanging out with them. It's nice to have family close by to concur that your children really are the most beautiful, smartest, well-behaved, fastest learners on the planet ever.

3. Safety. Lake Forest, as well as the two towns that border us, are all on the list of top ten safest cities in America. We may lack any decent unique restaurants, but dammit we're safe.

2. Good public schools. Even though I still long to be able to afford private schools since I've been to them and taught in them, it is awesome that for free, your kid can go to a top-ranked school.

1. Weather. How great is it that we can go to parks to play all winter long? Seriously, there isn't even fog here.


*Mike, Sorry you ranked after the carpool lane thing. I put you at #10 just so that people would read about you first before they got bored an navigated away from my blog. :)

Finding community in conservative OC

It's time to share a little of my personal journey to find my peeps. You know it when you find your own kind. Sure, everyone needs to branch out and have friends that stretch them philosophically, politically, and spiritually. I'm all for diversity and learning new things. But enough is enough. Where are my peeps!?

You really could see this coming. I did choose to move to conservative Orange County. I knew I was moving to a place that has, like, one feminist every few blocks or so. I think Scott and I are the token ones for all of Forest Creek, our "Lake Forest II Community." And I was moving here without a job (no work community) and with two very young children that nap at different times, thus keeping me homebound most days. The cards were stacked against me.

"So, how's your new place?" People ask. "How do you like Orange County?" I make an expression that says "I'm adjusting," and then I say, "It's a good spot for this stage of life. So many other stay-at-home moms. So much to do with little kids..." My voice trails off. My listener isn't sure whether or not to probe. I add, "I just haven't found my peeps, you know? My people."

It's not that I haven't tried. I am a card carrying member of the Lake Forest MOMS Club. I joined an Attachment Parenting playgroup. I joined La Leche League. I made myself order business cards that have my name, my kids' names, my contact info, and a little blue wagon on them. I've probably passed out like 20 to moms who ask for my number at the park or Ikea or story time at the library. Not one of these moms has called me back. It's almost like they thought I was cool until I pulled out a stay-at-home mom card. Then they give me this freaky look with a strained smile that says, "I was going to call you but now I realize you're weird and I must get my kids to my car immediately."

Hey, it's not my fault. I can not be relied upon to have spare paper and a pen when I barely remember to bring diapers out with me. But making new friends in mom-world is a little like dating. Do you ask for her number? Does she seem like she's worth the effort? Do her kids have normal names, or are they Jaeden, Brayden, or Shaylin? (I actually did meet two nice moms with kids who were named two on that list. So it is possible to give your child an oh-so-trendy, slightly unique, but really just a new twist on an old name and still be a nice woman.) But you seriously evaluate all these things. It's not that I am that picky; I just already have met so many women who are nice enough and smart enough, but prefer to discuss American Idol rather than the Alito nomination. They don't even know who Alito is and what he is nominated for. (Go search NPR for him if you fall ito that category.)

They may have serious thoughts at home, but they don't share them at playgroup. They perk up when I mention I am looking for a church and whole-heartedly recommend Saddleback, Canyon Hills, Voyager, or any one of a number of contemporary yet theologically conservative mega-churches in the area. This is another problem. I either find alterna-mommas, who wouldn't set foot in a church if you promised her a free tatoo out of the deal, or uber conservative mommas, who either agree with the fundamentalist positions of their churches, or worse, don't care to find out that their church leaders are anti-gay, won't let women be leaders, don't believe in evolution, and think that saying the words, "Jesus is my personal savior" is the only ticket to heaven, regardless of the fact that they often aren't being half as open or inclusive as Jesus was.

My heart hurts because I know I am judging others as I write these things. The truth is that I enjoy meeting women of all types--yes, even the uber conservative ones. In fact, my best friend so far here is a fundamentalist who defers to her husband in all ways amd gasped when she found out I taught evolution as a science teacher. She also parents very differently from me, putting her newborn on a 4 hour feeding schedule. Regardless of how hard he is crying, she makes him wait until it's time to feed again. Afterall, he "needs to learn patience." But she loves to discuss serious philosophical matters with me, is a ton of fun, has the kindest heart I've ever met, isn't weirded out when I want to pray with my kids at random moments, and lives around the corner. So I am not anti-fundamentalist; I just also need to find balance and meet, you know, my peeps.

Part of the problem is that I had it so good in San Diego. My church community rocked. My best friends were progressive Christians, playing music for people in jail, cooking for battered women at a shelter, running youth programs that connected teens with kids of other faiths. They go to dinner with their gay friends, stay out late to hear a new local band that is on the rise, meet for Bible study to rethink the literal interpretations of Revelation, want to become doulas, and know what Taize is. And they are close enough, geographically, for me to see them every so often. Perhaps I am relying on them to fill the space that should eventually be filled by people in my new community.

This week, I think, might be a turning point in my search for my peeps her in OC. Three things happened that are promising. 1: I emailed our new priest and shared my frustration with not meeting progressive Christian moms, and he gave me the names of some moms at our church who are "right up my alley." 2: I ran into two AP moms, who are also nursing their toddlers, twice this week. They seem refreshingly light hearted but very intentional about their parenting approach and they live nearby(!) 3: We started a music class with an old childhood friend of Scott's and her toddler, and I love her. And as a bonus, the class is in Costa Mesa, and all the other moms there were, I don't know, normal, I guess. A few of them go to church together at the local Unitarian Universalist Church. All of them seemed put together but none seemed overly conscious of fashion. They all were having fun bouncing up and down on the floor with their kids and weren't cliquey, even though I missed the first class and they had all met the week before.

I'll keep you posted. If I haven't alientated any possible OC friends who are reading this blog, I might just find my peeps yet.

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, Part 2*

Grace, from the back seat, while eating sandwich bites: "I can't handle this."

Me, quizzically looking in the rear view mirror to see what she could possibly mean: "What can't you handle, hon?"

Grace, almost muttering to herself while holding three sandwich bites in two hands: "I have this one, and this one, and this one...It is crazy!"

*For Part 1, see this post.

Journal of the Roby Flu* Marathon

*Okay, so it's not actually influenza, just a "flu-like viral infection," but come on, can't we just call it the flu like we have for years and years? What gives with these doctors and PA's correcting me-- "Did you actually test positive for the influenza? Because if not, well, then it's just a flu-like viral infection." Gimme a break. 104.5 degrees is the flu, lady!


Day 1: It being Christmas Eve and me buying adorable velvet (or maybe pseudo velvet) Christmas dresses for the girls doesn't stop my loving daughters from all turning into snot factories right before we get ready for church.

Day 2: Must carry on with the pageantry and pleasantries of Christmas as though that's not snot that Grace just wiped on the hem of said velvet dress. But bonus: we can use wrapping paper to wipe noses when tissue box lurks in far corners of present mess.

Day 3: Hoping and praying, not for the Light of the World to be born in my heart, but for this God-awful cold to skip me. Also feeling very motherly towards my sweet, sickly offspring. Poor dears! The snot! The coughing! It's too much to bear!

Day 4: Still going strong as Scott succumbs to the congestion. Wimp. Clearly, his refusal to gulp the horse pills containing fish oil that I bought at the natural food store is to blame.

Day 5: Considered calling the doctor.

Day 6: Accepted the fact that decongestant does NOT work on young children. Also accepted the fact that children turn blue and begin seven octaves of screaming when approached by nasal saline spray.

Day 7: Threatening to call doctor if kids not decongested by Saturday. Kids still refusing any sort of nasal strategy. Grace obsessed with strawberry flavored Tylenol. Have taken to letting her lick the dregs of Natalie's medicine cup. Is this wrong?

Day 8: Crap, it's New Year's Eve. No time to be calling doctors. Plus it is the weekend. Sheesh, why didn't I take them in on Friday? And I feel sorry that they are all sick and everything, but honestly, do all three of the have to call "Hold me, Mommy" constantly? Must do a better job of comforting their poor sick heads.

Day 9: Maybe this is what it felt for Noah when the rain finally stopped. Noses have dried up and Natalie has a brand new tooth. Well, that explains a lot. Saying prayers of thanksgiving for the new toys that distracted us throughout the week of sickness.

Days 10-15: Go to park / host a playgroup / make scones / travel to San Diego / enjoy the feeling of sun on my face / celebrate freedom / I even go to a movie by myself one day

Day 16: Why does this pew feel so hard and cold? Why don't they have softer pews at this stupid church? And why is it freezing in here? You know, churches should offer herbal tea. I hope I'm not, you know, getting sick. I'd honestly rather be pregnant than sick. Hmm...no nausea. Not likely to be pregnancy.

Day 17: Crap. Crappity crap crap crap. Will be running out of Tylenol soon. I feel like I just started an extreme sport and all my muscles are saying, “God, no! Not exercise!" And Natalie is snotty again. Didn't I already deal with that?

Day 18: Stupid pediatrician. Stupid viral infection. Stupid "Mentally prepare for 4 or 5 days of high fever with her. Oh, and Grace will surely get it, too. You should get some rest." What the hell?! How does a mom of a 2.5 year old who just gave up the paci, and an 8 month old who refuses to sleep anywhere but pressed up against the small of my back, get rest? HELLO!

Day 19: Grace's fever hits 104.5. Natalie is still a strong 102.4. Cancel toddler gardening playdate. I'm done. Call in the reinforcements. I seriously give up. If I hear "Up, Mommy, UP!" one more time I will go crazy. Is it wrong to be glad Scott gets sick so that I have someone with which to share my misery? I feel more validated than I ever have in my whole life as Scott looks up at me at lunchtime (halfway through his first day home and sick) and says, "Sarah, I seriously hope you forgive me for leaving you alone to do this Monday and Tuesday. I am done and it's been like 4 hours."

Day 20: Grace says, "Mommy, I don't like it when you scream." This slightly endears me to her (what a well-balanced toddler to calmly say that to a person of authority!) but I bite my tongue from responding, "Well, I don't like it when you WHINE, and CRY, and HIT NATALIE, and when we run out of DRUGS and when Daddy goes to WORK and when you both want to NURSE AT THE SAME TIME" and so on and so forth. Not winning any Mother of the Year contests and it is only January 12th.

Day 21: God, are we really three weeks into this? Scott still home. The monotony is killing us. But my fever breaks and Natalie's, too.

Day 22: [Cue sad violin music] Why did this happen to me? Huh? Three weeks of sickness? When will they all get better? (Sobbing and music crescendo) Can't everyone just deal with their own sickness and stop being such BABIES?!?!?! (Scott reminds me that they are, in fact, babies, and we are, in fact, still their parents. I remind him to shove it.) The only saving grace is that no one is puking. God, that would suck.

Day 23: After mopping Grace's puke off the kitchen floor and cleaning it out of Scott's pajamas, I go for a run to try to drain the sinus pressure out of my eyeball. Big mistake. Almost kill myself pretending to be Rocky. Try inhaling steam over a bowl of hot water. Try more, different, prettier meds. Still have pounding behind eyeball.

Day 24: Well, folks, here we are. Monday January 16th. Scott went back to work, that bastard. Something about "earning money to pay the mortgage" or something stupid. Both kids down for a nap in the same room with Natalie in the crib, so miracles do happen. This gives me hope that the end is near. That and the fact that my eyeball is no longer pulsing on its own. I hope you and your families have stayed healthier than ours over the start of the new year. And if you have something that doesn't sound exactly like what we had, please cough into your elbow and stay the #*%@ away from my kids. Thank you and have a great day.

An Actual Conversation

Grace, during our evening walk: "'Scuse me."

Me, not sure what she meant: "What happened? Did you burp?"

Grace, matter-of-factly: "Yes; I burped out of my bottom."

Me, suppressing laughter: "That's called farting."

Grace, kicking the stroller: "Oh. I did farted."