The Plastic Baggie

So I have a confession to make. 

Yesterday I drove down to Felton to spend the night at my dear friend Adria's house. She has a smart, savvy four year old girl, Ayla. Ayla was asleep when I arrived so Adria and I had several hours to catch up on various goals, dreams, aspirations, a few failures and in matters of the heart. 

Adria would tell you she lives pretty simply. I see she eats organic healthy foods and uses cloth napkins. She has a garden where she uses the compost she's made from her leftovers. She is strong and athletic and is a female firefighter. She is independent and smart and feminine and once again made me marvel at her maturity and wisdom despite being younger in years. Her healthy natural beauty is only surpassed by her lovely inner qualities. I see this demonstrated by how she patiently and tenderly cares for her daughter.  I hear this by how she reacted with another woman recently in a very trying situation. She let the amazing shared spirit of sisterhood take precedence over a wrong done to her. 

I love Adria and she is one of my favorite people. 

In the morning, Ayla and I played while Adria cooked breakfast. We played with wooden tangram puzzles and make-believe games of Beauty Parlor and Halloween. I was reminded with a tug of my heart how my own girls and son would play similarly when they were little. Many adventures with Barbies and Robinhood, Batman and princesses were created on Fairway Dr with my kids. We had tea parties and baking and coloring and painting and drawing, climbing, building and assembling. When my youngest daughter played Beauty Parlor with me my scalp hurt a lot more and her devilish laugh would coincide with the tight twists of the comb or the many clips. Ayla was a kinder, gentler beautician but still I remembered what it was like with fondness. 

It was much chillier than we had anticipated the day before so I put on all the layers of clothes I had packed wearing bike shorts with a skirt over it, a tank top, long-sleeved shirt and a vest. I wore a headband beneath my bike helmet and though it was not sunny I wore glasses as a shield for my eyes and my thickest pair of wool socks. Adria and Ayla were similarly dressed, but only after a little struggle as Ayla was asserting her independence by choosing what to wear. Adria was a master of negotiation and soon Ayla had on leggings and layers and a cozy coat. I then recalled how I teasingly used to say I wanted to market buttons to pin on my children that would read, "I dressed myself" as a disclaimer as they asserted their independence, just as Ayla was doing.

Adria assembled a tasty lunch and packed it along with all of the gear necessary to pull Ayla on her bike trailer called a Weehoo. It's a bigger endeavor than some would attempt but Ayla, Adria and I had gone on a similar ride last month and we all looked forward to our day. I followed in my own car with my bike and gear so I could go home directly after our riding. While we were driving I was remembering the children's seat I had attached to the back of a bike I owned when my children were babies. Later it was replaced by a Burley bike trailer which I used to pull two children at times, as well as swimsuits, towels and food for the day while we hung out at the nearby neighborhood swim club. I remembered sometimes passing golfers in a nearby private golf course a development over and they would comment that I must be the babysitter not the mommy. At the time I was too tired or happy to be outside and aware they were too old to be bothered by the comments. But for today I remembered a string of outings involving my children and bikes and realized this love I have for my two-wheeled friends is not a new love, it's simply a renewed one.  

Just before we started our pedaling, Ayla asked if she could eat a snack while riding. Adria complied and gave her a choice of apple slices or a healthy trail mix with nuts and a few tiny, dark chocolate squares. Ayla chose the trail mix. 

We pedaled across a bridge, along the river with a few shady characters, and then past the Santa Cruz Boardwalk until we reached the path along the ocean's edge where all of the surfers were gathered. It was not as crowded on the road as it had been last month and we were traveling at a steady clip.

That is the excuse I will use as to what I did next. 

The thing I did was nothing. 

I saw Ayla's plastic baggies blow out of the Weehoo and onto the road. Adria was ahead and I did not want to stop in the street to get the baggie and fall behind as we had just stopped to take off a layer of clothing.  There was a person walking and I reasoned with myself that they would pick up the baggie. 

Still, I felt guilty. I should have stopped but I didn't.

But then it got worse. 

We arrived at Wilder Ranch, now a state park. We parked our bikes and were unpacking the lunch and walking to the picnic table when Adria asked Ayla,  "Where  is your trail mix baggie?"

"I don't know, " Ayla said. 

 They discussed it further. 

"Have you seen the baggie?" Ayla asked.

"Yes, I saw it," I answered.  I avoided saying specifically that I had seen it blow out of the carrier and onto the pavement.  Ayla was concerned about the baggie but then joined her mommy at the table to begin eating lunch. I still felt guilty. 

We ate. Then we played. We climbed in the tree, walked in the magical bushes, sucked on the ends of the sour flowers and then fed the chickens. We got back on the bikes and visited the horses and saw a bobcat. 

Ayla wanted the rest of her apple slices, also in a baggie. She mentioned the missing baggie. Again. She looked right at me. "Did you see the baggie?" she asked innocently.

I avoided the question with a question, "Why don't we look for it on the way back? Maybe we can find it and pick it up?"

We headed up a big hill and then when we got to the top we realized Ayla had lost her water bottle. The one with a sippy spout and stickers from Trader Joe's on it. I volunteered to go back and re-ride our path at the ranch to find it. I zipped down the hill, I rode by the tree, the bushes, the barn, the port-a-potty, the chickens, the horses and darned if the bobcat hadn't appeared next to me again next to a group of quail. He was probably annoyed with me for thwarting his hunting twice that day. 

I could not find the bottle anywhere and headed up the small, steep hill toward the mother-daughter duo. And there was the water bottle, lying in the middle of the path. I stopped, picked it up and pedaled to my friends.

"Yay! I found it!" I smiled. "Now maybe we can find the baggie too!"

 Please God, I prayed.

We pedaled across the railroad tracks, down a street and along the ocean's path. All along I kept looking for that baggie.

Please let me find that baggie.

And then we pedaled around a curve and there along the edge of the curb, next to the path we had ridden earlier was the baggie. This time I was leading and stopped. "There it is! The baggie!" I exclaimed. 

Thank you, God, I prayed.

Now some will say it was a coincidence. Some would say it was a stupid baggie. Some would laugh, as my sister did when I told her this story over the phone tonight. 

Earlier I should have stopped but didn't. I should have said something but didn't. 

I've done that before in my life. Made mistakes.  

But here is the beautiful thing. I got a second chance to right the wrong. 

Sometimes we get a chance to right a wrong in a real, tangible way. Sometimes it is only through words. Or time. Or forgiveness, mainly to ourselves.

I got to remember today what it was like to play make-believe with my sister Laura. This time I got to remember all the good times, not the times I got angry and we fought. I got to remember what it was like as a young mommy and making lunches and snacks and packing up for adventures with a bike and Burley trailer with three kids or a giant red suburban filled with gear. I got to remember all the healthy things they ate and not the times when I let them eat something that was not organic before organic was the norm, or if I was tired or impatient, bored or cross. 

I'm going to remember today as a gift of memories of childhood, being a mommy and of second chances. 

Oh. And I have an empty baggie in my vest pocket that I'm going to throw away too. 

(Nearly) No Shopping for One Year

December 18th will mark the one year anniversary of my self-imposed, nearly no shopping challenge.

Why? I had bought a very sweet 1940's cottage and with that purchase came new light fixtures and re-wiring and appliances and paint and curtains and accessories. I also bought a new car. And I had done a great deal of training for an athletic event which required more purchases for fitness equipment, coaching and entry fees. I also had two children still in college. And I had a closet filled with cute, mostly-on-sale clothes and accessories. When I moved I had made numerous trips to the local thrift store with carloads of donations, I had given many items away to friends and family and had even left more on the curbside in a dumpster or as giveaways to neighbors. Even after giving away lots of stuff, I still had closets packed and a garage filled with more items. It made me sick to my stomach when I thought about it. 

Don't get me wrong, I have good stuff. Ask anyone. The recipients of my giveaways would agree. But I started realizing the more items I got rid of, the more I still needed to weed through and throw or giveaway. And I did not need to add anything. So after finishing up my Christmas shopping which more recently always included a few items for myself, I decided I wanted to just stop buying for one year. I wanted my children, who also have had the privilege of excess, see their mom not buy stuff too. 

I had a few rules for myself. I could buy gifts for others for birthdays, wedding, holidays, etc. I could also buy anything I really needed for myself that was for a physical necessity. I had broken my ankle and the truth was that a lot of shoes hurt me and if I wore them I felt it would slow down my healing process and I wondered if I would ever get to run again. I also told myself if I received gift certificates I could spend them if I wanted. I had my first out of the country trip planned sometime in the spring and I told myself I could buy items there too. 

Right away I was given some gift certificates during Christmas. Knowing that I would want to spend them wisely, I was careful. I remember I had one $50 gift card to the GAP. I was able to purchase a black and white striped skirt and two pairs of pants on sale and felt like I was really getting a good bargain. I also admit about 6 months later when I began to go through my closet in earnest, I gave away one of the pairs of pants. Why? They were too big and I had only worn them one time. I learned a good lesson: only buy items that fit well. Shoes cramp your toes? Do not buy them. Pants that are loosely comfortable in the dressing room will be sloppily baggy after one wearing. Take inventory of what you already own before you purchase anything new.

However, I did purchase some items. I bought two pairs of sandals for $14 apiece. I teach and all my other sandals, even the ones with small heels on caused my ankle to hurt. They were worth every penny. Before I went to Ireland I bought a really great waterproof raincoat. It only sprinkled one day as the Irish people said I brought the sun from California. Did I return the jacket when I returned? No. The truth is I plan to use it on other trips, especially ones while bike touring. I also had bought a comfy pair of black ballet shoes that I could wear during my trip. Sadly I left them in my hotel and had to replace them. I also bought an Irish knit sweater and poncho and a dress. I have worn all of those items numerous times and every time they remind me of my Irish holiday. I also purchased gifts for my loved ones while there. And that brought me joy. And I learned how to pack very light for a ten day trip so I would have room for the gift purchases. One day I swam before school. I went to get dressed and realized I left all my clothes at home, except for my baggy torn sweatpants which I had worn over my swimsuit. I had to make a quick run to a local store and found a simple black t-shirt dress for $29. I wore it a few times and ended up giving it to my youngest daughter.  Another time I was with my youngest daughter in Rockridge at a vintage clothing store. We pulled a lovely handmade black velvet dress off the rack that looked like it might be my size. I tried it on and it fit perfect and was only $40. I thought about it long and hard before I decided I could purchase it too. I do not claim to be perfect but I am practical. I knew I'd have some holiday parties and this dress would work. And when I grew tired of it some day I could easily resell it or give it away as it is a classic cut. I also bought a black dress at an outdoor clothing store that I can wear year-round and was on clearance. I have worn it no less than fifteen times and it is the kind of dress that won't really ever go out of style. I feel slightly guilty about it but not enough to have skipped purchasing it.

Even with all of my justifications I purchased far less than I would normally. I also found myself taking every item of clothing out of my closets and dressers, boxes and bins this past September. I gave away a few bags of items to my girlfriend. I gave away another couple to my sister-in-law and her sisters. I then filled up my car with the remainder of donations for my local thrift store. I had a friend who was available and I would take a photo of items and have her help me decide. Fortunately for me she was on a break between jobs and helped me with some tough decisions. I would be lying if I said I didn't take a few items from the give-away pile and place them back in my closet. But I would also be telling you the truth when I say I will go through it all again at the end of the next four seasons and purge again. 

I have gone through my garage twice to get rid of items. My friends and family will attest to the fact that I love to decorate for the holidays. This year for Halloween, rather than take down the four or more bins of decor, I hung one wreath and one banner. I displayed exactly three votives and purchased three pumpkins on my porch. The pumpkins will remain until Thanksgiving, if they don't spoil. I don't know that I will pull out the fall decor at all this year. It will depend on what I decide to do the week I have off. Will I spend a day decorating or a day hiking or running or biking? For Christmas I'm sure I will decorate as my youngest daughter has been away at college this year. But I'm not sure what will make it's way out of the garage and the bins and into the house. 

I do know this: I am sure I have more money, though the truth is I have spent the past months paying myself back for the trip I took to Ireland. It was worth it. I also began to pull out clothing from years ago and wear it in new and creative ways. I  like having less to choose from when I go to get dressed. I enjoy giving it away to friends and family who genuinely appreciate the gesture. I also have more time. I do not ever go window shopping or run into a store just because I have a free evening. Instead I read or write or go outside on an adventure or I call up a friend and spend time with them. 

I have learned that I have been a bit of a hoarder. It probably stems from being the fourth kid in my family and the third girl, wearing hand-me-downs and on-sale items growing up.

I think if you came over to look today, you'd be shocked at how much I still have inside my house, my garage and my closets. I feel better but I will continue to discard. And with each item I set aside, I know I will continue to feel lighter.  

When Dec 18th comes, friends have asked if I will run to the store for a shopping spree. The answer is no, with one exception which I will share about in another blog posting.  The fact is I'm sure I could go another year without purchasing one item and I would be fine. I know  I will never spend recklessly again. I will spend thoughtfully. Does it match items I already own or is it too similar? Does it fit? Will I wear it? Will I use it in my home? Is it timeless or if it's trendy, is it lower in cost because I know I won't be wearing it in a few years.

Overall I think it's been a good mindset to have and one that I will practice in my life moving forward.

I Love Lake Tahoe

I was driving in Tahoe for a training weekend and spotted
this bear. 

So I love Lake Tahoe. By love, I mean it’s always felt like home to me. Not a cabin. Not a location at the beach. The whole place. I grew up camping and skiing, fishing and swimming there.

When the World Triathlon Corporation announced they would host a new North American Ironman at Lake Tahoe I actually contemplated signing up. Me. Me who had never ever had a desire to race an entire Ironman race. I had completed a few sprint triathlons, an Olympic and International distance triathlon and had just completed a half-ironman distance. But a whole one? Me? Un uh. No way. But then Tahoe was announced.

I remembered years earlier, being a fit synchronized swimmer, competing at the National level. One summer I went to Northstar at Tahoe and ran a little 5K or 10K race with my dad. I was sure I would beat him, even though I never ran simply because I was fit. I was wrong. The altitude kicked my butt and it was hot and I had a splitting headache and my dad kicked my butt even more, with bragging rights for many years. But I also thought about my more recent accomplishments in Tahoe; mountain biking, road biking, running, swimming, kayaking, paddle boarding and decided if not now, when? Why not?

I trained hard. I took a summer off from teaching. I gave up a lot of social activities with friends, family and relationally in order to train. I was never going to win an award or set speed records but I wanted to give it my best shot.

Then I did a stupid move. I ran in my bike cleats to move my car and broke my ankle. Crap. I was out of the race just two weeks before it was held.

My mom had to drive me to
my doctor appointment. 

Smiling for my friend's husband while waiting for X-ray results. 

Watching all of my teammates at Ironman Lake Tahoe 2013.

My new goal was to heal and be able to move pain-free. I wanted to be able to swim, and bike and run and to hike and heck, I wanted to be able to walk without feeling pain or to not think about my ankle or be controlled by it. I aqua-jogged, I went to physical therapy, I swam using my arms only and I slowly biked. While sleeping I dreamt about trail running. I missed that the most I think. Me, the slow, non-runner grieved the loss of freedom while running on a dirt trail surrounded by beauty and being lost in thought.

 Slowly, slowly I regained the use of my body.  At first, I was on schedule and I would even venture to say ahead of what I thought I could do physically. But soon I found I had to pull back. I was pushing myself with the group, rather than listening to my own body and limits. I got a virus that lasted about three weeks and took what felt like months to fully recover, especially while riding my bike. I also had some financial choices to make and coaching was not one expense I could justify with the unexpected ones I had recently encountered. So reluctantly I pulled away.

Even so, I signed up for the Lake Tahoe Half Ironman. The goal to was to complete, not compete. I was swimming and biking and running my way to fitness again. Around that time period, a man I know who coaches asked me some very good questions, “Are you enjoying yourself? Are you having fun? Do you like doing the things you’re doing?” The fact is, I was. I did. It was because this time I had decided to rewrite my training to incorporate all the things I love, instead of sacrificing everything in the same manner I had the year before and this past winter.

Earlier, when I was trying to keep pace with everyone else, and pushing myself beyond what I should have at times, the answer was clearly no. I was kind of desperately moving forward, doing what I “should do” which meant getting up early despite having stayed up late and well, getting myself sick in the process.

This time I could answer, heck yes.

Pacifica mountain bike ride with a lovely view. 

Mondays were my day “off” and I decided to try and incorporate yoga. I was encouraged to use it to strengthen my ankle and eventually joined a yoga cooperative near my home. While improving the strength of both my ankle and my core I found the meditation at the end often even more beneficial. Breathing in. Breathing out. Being in the moment. Feeling feelings. Breathe again.

Lake Chabot

Tuesday night mountain bike friends.

Tuesdays I got to sleep in a little later and I then mountain biked in the evenings after work. I happened to have met an entirely new group of people while riding with another woman who was injured last year. She got a flat and as we were in the midst of changing it, this friendly, welcoming group of people came and helped finish the job. Then they asked us to bike with them. I haven’t looked back. Each week as our group rides and as the sunlight has gotten shorter, I have experienced new “firsts.” One ride in particular, was magic.  We saw many deer, a bobcat and a supermoon, while riding the entire way around the lake near my house in the dark wearing my Jetlites headlamp strapped to the top of my helmet.

Wednesdays involved two workouts: swimming and running. I switched up the times and locations but slowly got where I could kick again while swimming and run without walking at a decent, if not record-breaking clip. I did not join my race club’s track workouts though, I told myself I would work on speed and cadence after the Half Ironman and once I was consistently pain-free. For right now, I just needed to run and slowly increase my time and distances. I worked my way up to over two hours for running and over eleven miles of trail running.

Commuting to work via BART is ALWAYS
interesting; once I was stuck in the elevator
in the heat and once I got stuck on a train. 

Thursdays I commuted on my heavy cross check touring bike. I would either ride to BART and work and then ride the entire way home or do the reverse. There is a decent climb going in either direction while lugging my pannier of clothes, food and work items and I had the added benefit of feeling good about not driving my car, at least one day a week, sometimes two. It meant an early morning alarm in order for me to ride to work on time and I always arrived sweaty. I had to give myself a sponge bath at work but it was so worth it. I felt empowered or in my happy place after starting the day riding. I have also sadly learned about road rage and drivers not paying attention and almost hitting me and needing to drive more defensively, always on the lookout for car doors opening, cars pulling out before looking left again and reading ugly postings on friends’ Facebook pages about wanting to kill bicyclists. On the reverse, I’ve had friends wanting to blow through stop signs while riding and I guess I can say I can see both points of view. If everyone would just obey the rules…

Friday runs at Lake Chabot.

Fridays I ran and swam again, before and after work. The running was usually at the lake but later as the training grew longer I sometimes needed to run on flat surfaces and would run on the trail near my work, in the dirt alongside the paved trail. Here I also had a surprise one week and ran into some women on the team I belong to and got to have my first group run in over a year.

Hope Valley in the Northern Sierras. A beautiful training ride. 

Pie post-bike ride in Hope Valley.

Saturdays were reserved for longer rides, often alone but sometimes with friends who were training for other events or riding in Tahoe if I was in the area. I even had a century ride planned after I had been sick with the flu. The men I tour with and the two women I train most often with were there too. I urged them to go on without me. They steadfastly refused to do so. At every rest stop for over 63 miles they waited while I managed the 6,000 feet of climbing. I planned to quit when it got really bad. It never got SO bad I guess, just mildly bad the entire time…because it was slow-going the entire day. I can’t tell you what it is like to ride up to a rest stop and feel so loved and supported and humbled and gassed. I learned that day I am mentally tough and that I can push myself and that friends and teammates and people in general can be so encouraging. A simple soda at a critical juncture can mean so much.

Lake Chabot training trail run. 

I’d wake up early Sunday mornings and slowly increased the time and mileage until I was able to run all the way around the lake near my house. The feeling? Pure joy. Another awesome day was finally getting to run again with some guys I’d known for a few years, joining a trail group I’d been following but unable to train with due to injuries or training schedules. I was emotional running the first time around the lake, thinking of how I could only dream about trails months earlier. I’ve also learned to enjoy the quiet times of swimming or biking or running alone. I don’t play music so I can hear cars or people approaching but find I can get lost in my thoughts and it can be therapeutic and meditative.

First run all the way around the lake!

A school's leadership team of students were passing these out during a long Sunday run, how cool is that?

Sharkfest Swim in Aquatic Park, San Francisco 

Credit and kudos goes to my coach for understanding and encouraging me as I did my training in this new manner. He even sat and met with me for nearly two hours a few months before the event to look at the training I had done and just chat with me about it. He encouraged me to continue, made a few minor suggestions and made himself available in the future when or if I decide to continue on my quest for completing an Ironman.

Post-Sharkfest breakfast; french toast and chicken with strawberries. I'm fueling up for my bike tour to Half Moon Bay.

Bike tour!

This happened in the exact place where I fell and broke my ankle the year before....

Last short spin across the Bay Bridge and
through Emeryville, Berkeley, Albany and
Richmond too. Now I have a new goal: bike
around the entire Bay in the upcoming year.

When this weekend finally arrived for the Ironman Lake Tahoe Half Triathlon, I had decided I was going to enjoy every moment of the entire course, even the hard parts.  My nickname of “Smiley” from my friend would be well earned.

My coworkers gave this to me, that's a pretty good imitation of how I feel when riding.

On the way up to Tahoe I stopped at the National Veterans
Cemetery in Dixon to have a little chat with my dad.

Because it snowed last year, I was prepared for every weather contingency. I was prepared for snow, rain and heat. I had a new nutrition product this year, also suggested by my friend and I can only write good things about it. It is a hydration product called Osmo The idea is to have fluid in the bottle and nutrition in the pocket, keeping the two separate. I often suffer heatstroke but while using Osmo I never did. I have begun to sweat more while working out which is a good thing. My body now cools itself. Normally I would turn beat red, hardly sweat, get a heat rash and often get the chills while training. Not any longer. For the race I would also be wearing my Bia Sport Watch. The women who developed this watch have thought of everything, it can be worn while swimming, biking or running. It has intervals that match the Jeff Galloway run/walk method I had planned to use while completing the half ironman. It also has a safety feature which sends out a signal if I’m in distress. I’ve gotten to “know” the Bia team and they have been a constant source of encouragement and I will be a forever-faithful customer as a result. I also had found a comfortable tri kit by Coeur to wear, with an anti-chafing chamois that has no seams (not everyone has the issues I have had in that arena, but trust me, it’s not fun and can infringe on training in a very * real * way).

                               

                                          Just a short ride to shake the nerves out of our legs for tomorrow's race.

Here I met with an Ironman Alumni from last year the day before the race. 

She and I had met on a training ride up Brockway the year before. She's 

been a constant source of enrouragement this past year along with another 

Ironman alumni. 

Dropping off our T1 transition bags in Kings Beach.

Bike transition the morning of the race. 

Just before the race was to begin. 

So an arsonist sabotaged the entire race. The smoke caused the event to be canceled just minutes before it was to begin. I feel bad for the people who have lost their homes, the firefighters who have fought the fire at great sacrifice to their health and their families. I feel badly for all of the people in Tahoe who were counting on the monies earned on race day for their livelihoods. I feel badly for the volunteers who came to give of their time, or did, in the smoky air. I met a worker for the World Triathlon Corporation, wearing a mask, packing up the venue on race day. Her coworker had asthma and she insisted she stay inside while she did the bulk of outdoor work that day. She, in turn, said she felt bed for all of the athletes as she had completed an Ironman and knew how disappointed everyone must be. And I felt bad for the athletes, knowing the work they had put into the day. I think of their families, knowing how they have supported and sacrificed for their spouses, fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, friends, loved ones and how they were disappointed too.

THIS is why the race was canceled. That is smoke filling the sky.

As for me? I’m not sad. I do not feel let down. I jokingly said I had a new personal record or PR, at least this year I had made it to the starting line.

But the truth is this. I’ve gained so much. I am walking and moving pain-free. More than that, I have rediscovered the joy of my fitness routine. I can kick while swimming, I can pedal pretty hard and pretty far, I can run in the dirt canopied by a forest of oak or pine trees. I can ride in the dark. I can swim in the cold.  I can run in the heat. I can mountain bike while training. I can be alone, for hours by myself and have found contentment.

And you know what? I still love Lake Tahoe.

My team nickname is "Mayhem." I dubbed it

"Mayhem No Mas" for 2014. I suppose I need to 

drop the "No Mas."     *sigh*

   Post-"race" breakfast, bacon filled waffles and chicken with
boysenberry syrup and blueberries. 

Postscript: I got an email today and looks like I’ll be racing in a week at a totally different venue. This one is in the ocean and the heat and the sand on a flat course. Why not? It will be the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. Who knows where it will take me?

A Tip from Babies about Perfect Parenting

Approximately 15 years ago I was walking around downtown Truckee with my family while on vacation. Inside a favorite dress shop I noticed a colorful beaded bracelet. It had a perfect French blue hand-blown heart-shaped glass bead, some silver beads with carvings on them, each one a different shape; octagon, circular and square. There was a ceramic white circle-shaped bead with a painted brown dog, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. There was a black and blue oval-shaped striped bead, a wooden red one, and a blue spherical bead with a beach ball painted on it with another painted dog wagging his tail. There were many other varieties of red, blue and clear beads, many shapes, sizes and textures, some ordinary and some rather unique.

I think parenting is a lot like that bracelet. 

The ordinary days, where there are piles of laundry and bathrooms that need cleaning, carpets need vacuuming, shelves and knick-knacks need dusting, breakfasts, lunches, dinners and beds need to be made. Inevitably there is driving or carpool, spills to be wiped up, and toys to be tidied. Perhaps there is yet another argument about who gets the front seat, or a door is slammed, and you've read the last story, tucked in the final blanket, kissed the remaining child's forehead and settled upon the couch or the bed to read, watch TV, pay bills or head into the shower to begin your own nighttime routine. You remind yourself to put the chicken in the fridge so it will defrost in time to cook dinner tomorrow and you throw the last load in the dryer, brush your teeth and hopefully remember to floss. 

Maybe you feel uninspired by your parenting that day. Maybe guilty you didn't get everything done, or weren't as patient as you could have been. 

Or maybe you had a great day. 

Maybe you plopped your baby on the lawn, and they sat like a little tripod with chubby legs extended out in front of them. They leaned over in concentration and with their one stubby pointed finger touched a dandelion you hadn't even noticed. Or your baby smiled and looked intently at a spot between their legs. You lean over to look at it's significance and notice the ant crawling in the grass, or the lone pine needle that now has your baby's undivided attention. You notice the sound of the birds, or the airplane flying overhead or the distant bark of a dog because of your baby.

And just like that you have learned to recognize the uniqueness that is all around that maybe you'd forgotten or been too busy to notice but because you saw the day through your child's eyes, you realized it was pretty darn special.

Sleeping outside under the stars and the protection of a Magnolia tree, positioned on top of a blue camping tarp, with sleeping bags, blankets, pillows, stuffed animals, three squirming kids, a jack russell terrier and a tired mommy can produce magic.

Spying on your toddler son wearing nothing but cowboys boots and training pants with his big sister in her underwear enjoying a tea party on the backyard grass in  the dead of winter sunshine, secretly filming them from a window is magical too.

Magic is also building forts made of couch cushions and instead of making it all come down and cleaning up, seeing the astonished looks on your three children's' faces as you tell them that perhaps we'd best keep it there for playtime tomorrow.

Another magical and memorable day happened many many years ago. My children's daddy was working at the firehouse and I had the day off from teaching, or it was the weekend, or summer, I don't remember that part. I do remember deciding it would be a beach day for the four of us. I packed a lunch, towels, changes of clothes, jackets in case it was chilly on the coast, sand-pails and shovels, as well as getting all three children readied with swimwear. We got in our new-to-us, used car with the now novel sun-roof. We cranked up the music and headed in the direction of the beach.

I recall the freedom, driving with the fresh air, comfy seats and feeling as if something special might happen. We drove to our favorite beach past Half Moon Bay and camped ourselves there for duration of the day. The kids swam in the shallow fresh waters that feed into the saltwater. Sandcastles were built and Nerf Balls were thrown. All of that activity was a great way to spend the day but soon it was time to pack up, dust the sand off our bodies and throw dry sweatshirts on over our swimsuits.

"Mommy, what are those people doing over there?

"Hmmm, I don't know. Let's go see."

We worked our way over the mounds of sand to where the crashing waves were located.

And there we saw magic moment number one.

"A whale!!! Do you see it? Oh-my-gosh, it's a WHALE!!" they screamed.

The smallish whale was just off the shoreline, barely a stone's throw away. The entire crowd of beachcombers stood as one, now silent except for the sporadic inhales of breath and sighs as we all marveled together.

I was born in Oakland and had grown up going to the beach with my family and had never seen a whale offshore like this one.

We stood for a good ten or fifteen minutes just watching. And watched some more.

Reluctantly we pulled ourselves away from the shore to the car and headed home. We drove over the hills, up the windy roads and across the bridge and freeways to the valley where I grew up. We were headed through it when I noticed magic moment number two.

There in the middle of the canyon, with small ranches and farms sprinkled with cows, sheep, goats or horses was a passing lane for cars commuting through it.  I could see a young man on the left-hand side of the road. I pulled over.

There seated on a little stool was the young shirtless male in blue jeans. He was positioned perfectly in an acoustic location, just past the t-intersection of hills. He was jamming on his drum set a catchy rhythmic song.

"Look! That man is playing music, mommy! He's playing on his drums!"

We all started swaying to the music in unison, left, bob-up-and-down, right, bob-up-and-down, left.

We waited until his song was over and I slowly pulled back onto the road. We headed toward home but first we had a Costco stop. And after filling our grocery cart, waiting in line for our turn to pay, I witnessed magic moment number three.

I have to confess, at this point I can't remember the exact words that were spoken. I just remember the 20-something year old clerk was cool to my son. Way cool. My son was in kindergarten or first grade, the age where little boys begin to tell silly jokes. Sometime these silly jokes made no sense whatsoever. My son's dad, his sisters and I enjoyed his sense of humor which was just beginning to develop. Knock-knock jokes were all the rage and so, much to my amusement, he began to tell his joke to the clerk. I was a little teensy bit nervous because, as I said, some of his jokes made no sense. But he innocently plowed right into the joke telling. And you know what? That clerk laughed. And my son laughed too. He then high-fived my son. My son beamed.

And I just knew it. That day was one of the perfect ones. We had experienced a whale sighting, an acoustic drum jam session in the middle of a canyon and were the lucky recipients of the one checkstand clerk who would laugh and high-five my son and his novice joke telling.

My Truckee bracelet has a few plain, ordinary beads mixed in with the colorful painted ones, no two exactly alike. Parenting days are like that too. The tricky part, if you're not careful, is not noticing them. So perhaps today is a day to take a tip from the babies, and just notice.