"I know someone else with Fibromyalgia..."

DISCLAIMER: This post isn't my usual upbeat, happy, ruminations. It's of a more serious nature. Actually, it's more of a rant.

I have fibromaylgia syndrome (or FMS, aka FM.) I have quite a few friends who have been diagnosed, as well. Now, some of these people I met in my FM support group, but others were my friends long before either of us were diagnosed. In fact, some of them have been my friends since childhood.

One of the biggest complaints/questions I hear at my support group is how to make friends and families understand our condition. Many of my friends are having a tough time communicating what they're going through in a constructive and meaningful way.

One of the wors things anyone can say to a person with FM is, "I know someone else with Fibromaygia, and they..." - followed by some wonderful thing that person has accomplished with their life. Commenting about how well other people with FM cope just ticks me off; I think it's the same for everyone with FM. Now, sometimes those kinds of comments are well-meaning and hopeful, but many times it just comes off sounding like "they can do such-and-such, why can't you?" making the person with FM feel even more helpless and dejected. Especially if it's a comment which is used as a weapon by a spouse or significant other.

At one of my FM support group meetings, a woman was talking about a conversation she had with a friend or coworker or some such. The gist of the conversation was that the person she was talking to had a sister-in-law with FM who was coping beautifully and even training to run a marathon. The woman with FM responded, "Well, bully for your sister-in-law!"

I think we've all run up against people who try to compare us to someone else they know with FM. Heck, I know some people in our FM group resent me because I've made more progress than many - my friend Cindy included! But even I have had my father-in-law and his new wife tell me to go out and get a job, etc., because someone else they know has FM and has never missed a day of work in his/her life.

All I can say to anyone who makes these kinds of insensitive remarks is this: FM is a very unique condition. The symptoms and triggers are unique to every individual who is diagnosed with it. Hence the treatment and response time for everyone is going to be different. It's like any disease, in that, if you catch it early enough, you can stem the tide and get the upper hand on it quickly. However, with the difficulty of diagnosing it (whether because of the cyclic nature and vagueness of the symptoms or because of physicians who just won't listen or believe that it is a real medical condition), it can take YEARS to diagnose, meaning that it takes all that much longer to get a handle on the pain and find an effective treatment. After years of having your body on that downward spiral of pain, it can take just as long to work your way up the spiral to good health again.

I would also ask these commenters how well they really know how these 'other people with FM' are doing? Sure, our spouses have seen the worst with us; they see us in our worst and most vulnerable moments. Do they see these 'other people' in theirs? I know that when I was first diagnosed, I was so relieved in many ways because I finally had a name for the beast that had been plaguing me for so many years. I wrote an e-mail to all my nearest and dearest friends; the response I got was shocking. Not that they were unsupportive or unbelieving; simply that most of these people who I'd known for years had NEVER seen me have a bad day! I took a beat and thought about that. Sure enough, I had to admit that I never let anyone see me on anything but a good day. On the bad days, I'd curl up in my cave, licking my wounds by myself, until I felt better and able to face the world with a cheery countenance and a bounce in my step. It's our nature to withdraw when we're feeling poorly. Honestly, when we have the flu, we don't go out in public; it's no different with FM, but mostly because we simply CAN'T get out the door! One day I was surprised by a friend, and I came to the door in my pj's and disheveled hair. She actually took a step back, because I was always neat as a pin, even to work out! But that day I couldn't hide the pain I was in, and she couldn't help but notice it.

All that to say, it's unfair for anyone to say they know how others deal with their FM, because unless that person is really in their life, living side-by-side with them, they have NO IDEA how they really feel. All they know is the face these people put on for the outside world.

Sometimes I think that we do our friends and loved ones a disservice. We try so hard to fight our FM. We try so hard to let other people only see our 'good' days. We try so hard to be positive that we don't want to expose ourselves (and our partners) to other people with FM who are in a worse situation than we are. Have they sat in on one of the regular monthly support group meetings? You know, the ones that usually turn into a bitch-fest? Have they seen the people who can't sit still for more than 20 minutes and need to go stretch in the back of the room? Have they seen the people who have tried drug, after drug, after drug and are still in excruciating pain? Heck, have they taken the National Fibromyalgia Association's clothespin challenge?

Do they understand in any way how difficult it can be to be in CHRONIC PAIN every day. To never know when you wake up each morning whether you're going to be able to move or not? How frustrating it can be to forget basic vocabulary, much less know that your once-sharp mind can't remember where you put your car keys unless you have a ritual you follow like clockwork so they're never misplaced?

In short, have they tried to see this condition from the perspective of an FM patient AT ALL?

Part of what is so frustrating about FM for me is knowing how much FM has changed me. People described me (and still do on my good days) as exuberant, energetic, and vivacious. I'm up, positive, and happy - almost annoyingly so at times. When I'm involved in something, I'm giving it 110% and nothing seems to slow me down or get in my way. Heck, I was someone with so much energy that I'd run up the down escalator in the mall at the end of a long day's work, just because I could!

But FM has taken that from me. Sure, some days I can still rally myself and be my old me. But what my extended family and friends don't see is the recovery time I have to build into my schedule afterwords. I can still do a 'full day' (from 7 am to 11 pm) at Disneyland, but I'll sleep most of the following day, if not two. I love the days when I can run around with my grand-nieces at the zoo - forgetting my FM for a day. But I'll start the day with yoga before I leave the house, and you can bet I'll be taking my pain pills that night and making sure I practice yoga daily for days afterwords. I'll drive my parents to family functions hours away (after I've done yoga, taken my pain meds, and slapped a heat pack on my low back), but I'll fight back the tears of pain as I drive, just waiting to get to our destination so I can let the joy of being with family wash over me and drive the pain away from the forefront of my consciousness.

In other words, we can do ourselves or our partners a disservice by trying to be the hero. While we don't need to overwhelm them by constantly complaining about every little (or big) muscle spasm or electric current of pain that shoots through our bodies, we do need to communicate. If they're truly going to support us, I think they need to be able to understand and empathize with us. They need to see what the 'real face' of our FM is, and understand just how hard we're trying to fight it.

After all, I'm only 38, and I have a lot of life ahead of me. I've had FM since I was 17, even if I was only diagnosed 4 years ago. I'm bound and determined to be a person with FM, not to let FM have me. I'm grateful and blessed to have family who is loving, understanding, and supportive. And I wish the same for everyone else I know with FM. The reality, however, is far different, as up to 80% of all marriages in which a spouse has FM end in divorce. FM is a chronic condition I'll be trying to manage for the rest of my life. The good news is it isn't terminal. So if I'm not going to die from it, I won't let it take over my life.

My point here is, before you make some comment or comparison to a person with FM, ask yourself: Would you say something like that to a person with cancer or diabetes? FM is every bit as real as any other chronic condition. Yet unlike people with cancer or diabetes, because FM is so 'new', patients with FM have to convince their families, friends, general public, and sometimes even their own physicians, that Fibromyalgia is a REAL MEDICAL CONDITION. So please, think about what you say to a person with FM. Make sure it's said in a loving and supportive way. Educate yourself about the syndrome. We're having a tough enough time fighting FM. We shouldn't have to fight our family and friends, too.

He sees you when you're sleeping...

Every family has their holiday traditions, some of which are more fun than others. Also, they tend to vary in 'fun quotient' from year to year. One of our family traditions is to go to Candy Cane Lane. We went this year (late, as all my holiday events seem to be this year), and it wasn't nearly as fun this year as it was last. However I'd' written to a friend about last year's escapade, and since I didn't have a blog then, here it is. Heck, it's new to you!

For one of our 'girls nights', I decided to take B and one of her friends out for a bit of holiday merriment. We hit Starbucks for fresh hot cocoa and gingerbread, grabbed some Christmas CDs and headed out in the van. There's a neighborhood nearby that has been going all-out decorating for Christmas since it was built in the 50's. The HOA got together and each street picked a theme - Candy Cane Lane, Caroler's Way, and Candlelight Lane. It was neat seeing some of the original decorations, but of course, a lot of homes had all new decorations up instead. Unfortunately, many of the houses were dark, but some went all-out. Honestly, it made me wonder about their power bills!

Of course, there were some enterprising folks, too. One house had their '5th annual cocoa and cookies for charity' drive going on. Another had Santa hats for sale - complete with glitter glue for personalized decorations. When we saw the funnel cake cart, the girls went batty, and, being the cool parent that I am, I got out and bought them one. (OK, I sat in the nice warm car and sent them out into the cold with a $20 bill as I watched.)

The quantity of sugar consumed that late at night became painfully obvious very quickly. I had some carols in the CD player, but all hell broke loose when I popped in "Radio Disney Holiday Jams." They loved 'Rockin Around the Christmas Tree' and 'Jingle Bell Rock', but then the Dog-Bark Jingle Bells came on, and the van started bouncing as they did. It was followed by 'J-5's' version of 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town.' (I didn't know the Jackson 5 had a nickname, did you?) We finished off that CD, singing along when we knew the songs, making up words and laughing when we didn't, hollering 'Merry Christmas' to other cars who were slowly snaking their way through the streets in the opposite direction.

Once the CD ended, the girls had me go back and play the Dog Bark Jingle Bells and J-5's song at least 4 more times. Boy, did we have fun!! I didn't realize that little Michael Jackson's pitch made it almost impossible to actually 'sing' that song; instead, you have to shout it. And the girls shouted to high heaven! They made up a line or two, as well. "He sees you when you're sleeping. He knows when you're awake" preceded, "Cuz he's a stalker!!" (Makes sense.) Which of course made the remaining lyrics shift a bit to, "Santa Claus is going to jail!"

Creative little buggers.

So, to quote Dean Martin:
May all your days be merry, your seasons full of cheer!

And here's a little something that had me laughing until my kids thought I was being killed... slowly! I miss Whitney - she used to do the same crazy stuff in the snow!

A Very Twilight Birthday

This year, my daughter's birthday happened to fall on the same day as the opening of the movie "Twilight" which is her favorite book series at the moment - along with millions of other tweens, teens and moms across America, etc. For those of you who have no idea what this new "Twilight" craze is, it's over a series of books about a girl who falls in love with a vampire who doesn't drink human blood. Many of the tweens who were hooked on Harry Potter are now hooked on "Twilight," like B. B is a Twihard: meaning, she's not just into "Twilight" like Twilighters, or a few books like the Fanpires, but she's into all four of the books, the movie, and all things "Twilight" related.

Wanting to be a good mom, I thought it was important to know what my daughter was into, so I read the whole series, too. Since I liked them, I guess that makes me a Twimom. Well, I suppose that in and of itself wouldn't make me a full Twimom, but the rest of the activities I participated in with my daughter last week certainly qualify me for the status. (I've been informed by B that I'm not an official "Twilight Mom" until I register at their website. That's OK, I'm happy with my 'unofficial' Twimom status.)

See, a Twihard and a Twimom!

We started out with the Twilight pre-movie party at our local bookstore. There B and a bunch of her friends (accompanied by their moms) met to play Twilight-related games. I got into it at one point when they were playing a quote game and I realized I knew the answers to who said all the quotes. The girls running the party seemed impressed that I would jump in with a group of 20 or more Twihards - some of them in full costume to look like their favorite character. And I had a great time helping the girls dress B's friend D up in a toilet-paper version of "Bella's" prom dress, too. She liked it so much, she didn't want to take it off! Alas, we came in second.

On the 18th, we had a great opportunity for me to rack up some 'rock' points with my daughter. The Hot Topic stores are selling Twilight merchandise, and in true corporate synergy fashion, they had a cross-promotional tour going with the band Paramore (which has two songs on the movie soundtrack) and some of the teen stars from the movie. If you schlepped down to the Hot Topic store on Hollywood and Highland to buy a $30 tour shirt, you got a wristband entitling you to meet either the band or the movie stars at a poster signing following a mini-concert and a Q&A with the stars. One of B's friend's moms volunteered to go buy the shirts, and I volunteered to take the girls to the actual concert.

Now, this is the same tour that's been going to malls all around the country - begining with the fiasco in San Francisco where over 3,000 tweens and their moms mobbed the Hot Topic, requiring riot police to step in, etc. However, I didn't realize this until after we'd plopped down our money and I was committed to escorting my daughter and her two friends to the concert.

Paramore rocking the Kodak Theater Complex at Hollywood & Highland!

Thankfully, the Hot Topic team had learned a lot during their cross-country tour, so, as this was the final concert, they had the whole thing dialed in. We couldn't have asked for a better experience! One of B's friends has a physical disability, so when we arrived - all of us in our matching tour shirts - asking about their handicapped accommodations, the Hot Topic Team swooped in and gave us a spectacular place from which to watch the concert: they placed us at the head of the line for the poster signing, which happened to be just off the side of the stage.

The 3 Twihards, in our spot just off stage!

Not only did we wind up having a great view of the concert, but the team chatted us up and made sure the girls felt like V.I.P.s themselves. They took the girls to get glimpses of the female lead, Kristen Stewart, who played Bella, as well as taking them over to see the other stars who were being interviewed for Fox and T.V. Guide. (For those of you who are interested, that included the actors who played Jacob, Alice, Jasper, Rosalie & Emmett.) When the Hot Topic team realized the kids wouldn't be able to see the Q&A because of the screens that were erected for the stars to stand in front of, one of the guys volunteered to take the kids down to a place where they could see them but still get back to head up the line.

So can you imagine how happy these three girls were??? And B had never been to a rock concert before, much less had the opportunity to star gaze at her teen idols. I was really glad that I didn't lose my hearing, what with all the screeching that was going on!

Just a little happy??

We were so thankful for the extra opportunities the Hot Topic team gave the girls. As it was, the poster signing went by so quickly, the girls hardly had the chance to get out a 'hi' before we were being rushed out the door. Instead, they'd already had ample time to oogle the stars before we even headed to the signing. Being at the head of the line, the girls were having their picture taken by the local newspaper and they were even interviewed by the Fox morning news as they came out of the signing. They were so gobsmacked, they didn't say much, but one of B's friends made it onto Good Day LA the following morning, gushing about how she 'almost had a heart attack' when Taylor Lautner said hi to her.

Ready for the poster signing!

Of course, our Twilight birthday had to include the movie itself. B didn't want a traditional party. Instead she asked to be allowed to see the midnight showing of the movie - thus spending her first two hours of her birthday in the movie theater. I couldn't very well ask any of her friends parents to allow their kid go with us and miss a day of school, so I asked my niece instead. Although it meant spending hours sitting in line on a concrete walkway, we had a really good night together. As an added bonus since we were spending the next day at Disneyland, we stayed at the Disneyland Hotel since it was only 50 yards or so from the movie theater in Downtown Disney. What convenience!

Cousins killing time in line for the midnight showing of Twilight!

All I can hope is that I earned enough 'cool mom' points to last for a while! In any case, it was a lot of fun, and it was a great experience to share with B. Of course, B's already excited they've announced they're making "New Moon" - the next book in the series. So we get to do it all over again!! Woo hoo!!

Next year I'll buy one...

... a pumpkin pie, that is.

This year, as things played out, we're having the smallest Thanksgiving Day gathering ever for our fam. Just the four of us. So I decided to take on making the pie myself. Normally, there's pumpkin pie, apple pie, my French silk pie, and even some birthday cake (when you're having a group of 20+, that's not too much.) So everybody gets a little of whatever they want, and it's all good. But this year, seeing as how we had two b-days occur just before T-day, I knew we'd have leftover birthday cake to eat, which meant even a single pie would be more than we probably needed.

However, pumpkin pie is a requirement for Thanksgiving. Not having it would be like not having turkey. Yet I couldn't bring myself to buy one, which meant taking on the task of baking one, which I'd never done before. My big sis Judy is the baker in the family - famous for her pies and cheesecakes. But I never bothered to learn from her.

I love pumpkin pie, and so do the kids; however, M doesn't always. Supposedly it's a texture thing. So I found this recipe in my favorite T-day cookbook for a pie made with creme fraise which makes it more of a cross between a pie and a cheesecake. So I went for it. But as the evening wore on, I began to hate the line, "Set over hot but not boiling water (in a double boiler) and cook, stirring, until the mixture is hot and thick." That's all it said. No time given, like in the cranberry recipe where it said, "Stir constantly for about ten minutes over medium-high heat until the berries begin to pop and the liquid begins to thicken." Those were specific directions which resulted in cranberries so amazing that even my son couldn't get enough of them (when the only fruit he likes to eat are grapes or apples.) However, with the pumpkin pie, B and I took turns stirring for over a half hour with no noticeable change in thickness! I was hot, tired, and ready for bed, but I still had to make the meringue mixture, fold it in, and then bake the darn thing!!

I finally gave up on the 'thickening' requirement and decided that 40+ minutes was plenty. I finished up the mixture and poured it into my beautifully golden pie shell. That's when I realized I had way more mixture than I should. Thankfully, I'd gotten some mini tart shells (thinking I'd try to send some pumpkin pie to my nephew who is serving in Afghanistan). So I had those to fill with the extra mix. I threw them in the oven, did some chores while they baked, and reported back to the hot kitchen once the timer went off.

I peered at the pies. They didn't look done to me, but the toothpick came out clean. I guess that's because they aren't the usual thick, dense consistency that can crack. Also, the creme fraise made it a lot lighter color than usual.

Hmmm.... I guess we'll just have to see tomorrow. I sure hope it was worth it. All I know is it's after 11:30 and I'm exhausted! I hope they've cooled enough, because I have to go to bed!!

P.S. I tried one of my tartlets just after it cooled, and I was decidedly unimpressed. It was NOT a cross between a traditional pumpkin pie and a cheesecake. However, after Thanksgiving dinner, we simply were too stuffed to break into the full pie and decided to eat the last three tartlets instead for a 'small morsel'. I never understood how essential the chilling process was to pumpkin pies. There is definintely a reason they're refrigerated! It really made them set up nicely and gave them the promised cheesecake-consisency. I'm feeling much better about my first foray into pumpin-pie making and plan on serving the full-sized pie when we have relatives over on Sunday.

Identity Box

Recently, as an assignment for his Life Skills class, my son had to create an Identity Box. The concept was simple: wrap up a shoebox, put pictures on the outside which represent how people see you, and then put pictures on the inside which show the person you are that people don't see.

What was cool about it was the paper that went along with it. The students had to explain not only what the pictures were and why they chose them, but they had to conclude with a paragraph about what they learned from the experience of creating the box. I thought it was amazing that my son, a freshman, was able to see that people perceive him very differently from how he perceives himself, and he was OK with that. He realized it didn't matter how others saw him.

I mean, how often do we, even as adults, chafe against that? We either seem to try to conform to the 'roles' we've been assigned, or we try to prove that we're not what we seem to be.

I was telling one of my friends about the assignment, and was asked what I'd put on my box, and why. It was an interesting thing to consider.

Of course, Mary Poppins and Bree Van De Kamp (from Desperate Housewives) immediately came to mind. I think for a long time, as a mother I've idealized that role by trying to be very like the world's favorite nanny - Practically Perfect in Every Way. And I've been described by my friends as being Bree, but not just for my red hair. It's not that I'm a perfectionists so much as a planner. I tend to think through events, etc, and take the Girl Scout motto "Be Prepared" to heart. I never travel light, just ask Al! Both of these women are beautiful, smart, strong, and they always seem to have their acts together. They know what they're doing, yet are the penultimate caregivers - with never a hair out of place.

However, if you look at either of those women, they also have their down-sides. They are prim and proper without fail, they can seem to put protocol and etiquette before their emotional needs - almost to a fault. Do they ever let their hair down?

Think of Mary Poppins: she went to Uncle Albert's and had a tea party on the ceiling, singing along, without cracking a smile the entire time. Granted, when she thought it was appropriate, she popped through the chalk picture painting with the children and Bert, singing Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious all the while. But you still get the impression that she was more of a spectator, facilitating the fun for others, rather than actually experiencing the fun herself. She let go for a while after winning the horse race, but only for a little bit. Then she was back to business.

The same can be said for Bree, but with a slightly sadder twist. In the past few years that the show has been on the air, we've seen Bree be so proper, always with her gift-baskets of fresh-baked muffins, her perfect dinner parties, or with her secret recipe for her lemon meringue pie. Yet, what the outside world didn't see was the inner turmoil of her household, with her unruly children and the family's deep, dark secrets. I'm not saying that I'll cover up for my family; I've been touted as the herald in my extended-family which suffers from what I like to call Three Monkey's Syndrome. If they hear no evil, see no evil, and speak no evil, then it doesn't exist. Whereas I'm so tired of secrets, at times I seem to air our dirty laundry regardless of who is around. Overcompensating, I guess.

Yet Bree can throw a shindig like no other. That's why I have to be so careful now about what I volunteer to do. Because when I commit, I jump in fully with both feet. I don't do anything halfway. Heck, even going to Disneyland, I put on my Tour Guide Barbie hat and plan out the day so that it runs as smoothly and as perfectly as possible. Like I said, I'm a planner, I'm a helper, and I'm always willing to help out and do more than my share. It's just my nature; I learned it from my mom. In fact, often when I'm involved with an event, it's mom I'll call on to help me out, and there she'll be, doing whatever needs doing, without being asked. See a need, fill a need. Generous to a fault at times.

When it comes to the inside of the box, my first impulse was to say Tinkerbell. She's a cute, fun-loving, impulsive, devil-may-care, mischievous pixie. She's possessive and a bit vain, but also self-conscious (think of her measuring her lovely curvy hips while standing on the hand-mirror.) Besides, I've been known to stomp my foot in frustration on occasion, especially when being teased. Not to mention that she can fly, and with a little bit of her dust, she can help you to fly, too!

I think she represents Fun Me - the Me I'm trying harder and harder to let out for all to see. She's the Glamour Pi who does the Vacation Dance, who laughs so loudly that people turn and look, and who just loves to have fun. She's the one I let out when I went to Disneyland with Al for our birthdays last year. While Tour Guide Barbie had planned things out, she wasn't invited along. I fully participated in the experience, running and laughing all over the Happiest Place on Earth as if I was a kid. No spectator role for me; it was all about embracing the fun in the moment with both arms. We found joy in everything - from growling like bears at Grizzly Peak, laughing until our sides hurt at the picture from the Tower of Terror, clapping like a little girl when the submarine captain wished us Happy Birthday, working the water pump like crazy on Pirate's Lair, singing along on Pirates of the Caribbean, not to mention shouting with glee at the birthday balloons, chocolates and buttons left for us by the housekeeping staff. On that trip, we didn't derive happiness from the experiences in life, but how we experienced life.

There's also the ill me. The one with FM. When I was first diagnosed, I was so happy that, after 17 years of suffering, I finally had a name to what ailed me. I e-mailed my closest friends, and their responses shook me. Some of them were downright shocked, because I'd never, ever shown them anything less than the peppy, 110% energetic, with-it, go-getter. I'd hidden away on the days when the pain hit, or the exhaustion overwhelmed me. When my flare-up occurred in 2005, I couldn't run around like a mad-woman, power-walking all over campus. I struggled to limp across campus, holding back tears as I shopped at Costco. That's the fragile, vulnerable me - the one most people don't see. But it's OK to be weak, to be vulnerable, to need help. To be human instead of Superhuman.

And then there's the yogi. The peaceful me. The calm me. The one who finds that mind-body connection to relax every muscle in my body. The me called upon by my closest friends to reassure them during childbirth, to calm them as they await surgeries. That's the quiet side of me that many don't realize is there, but which gets me through the day.

So what did I learn? Well, I learned that I'm trying to share more of my many sides. Not only do I need to let people see the Mary Poppins and Bree, but I'm trying to expose Tink who is so fun to be with and the FM me who needs help at times. Not to mention sharing the peace, calm and joy that the yogi in me can bring.

Allow me a sappy metaphor:

If we think of ourselves as a precious gemstone with many facets, it's not just one facet that catches the eye, it's the many together which create a dazzling whole, as we catch the light and throw it back into the world.

Be well.

T'is the pirate Cap'n Jack Sparrow! Arrgh!

September 19 is International Talk Like A Pirate Day, so sit back and relax a spell because I'd be havin' a pirate yarn to spin.

(Don't worry, it's too hard to tell the entire story in pirate-speak, so I'll save you the headache of trying to figure out my meaning.)

Before school started, I took the kids on our traditional ‘last summer hurrah’ to Disneyland.

J, D & B

We usually go the Wednesday before Labor Day, as many schools have started back up and the crowds are much smaller. We were lucky and it wasn’t all that hot. We had a great day, as usual. We go to Disneyland a lot, but each time we try to find something special about the trip. This time, it was Captain Jack Sparrow.

Since the Pirates of the Caribbean movies are so popular, they’ve converted Tom Sawyer’s Island into Pirate’s Lair. They’ve added some cool treasure troves, ships and pirate/ghost/skeleton effects all over the island, so it’s even more fun to explore now. Well, the Island’s always been a place for me to take a break; I usually find a place to sit in the shade while the kids run all over the island, checking back in with me every five minutes or so.

B & N in one of the Bone Cages from Pirates 2

On this trip, my daughter B’s friend N and her mom had gone with us. The girls had taken off, and the other mom and I met up with my son D after he’d run around for a bit. We got to the end of the island (or as far as you can go) past the old fort, which is where Jack Sparrow sits among a huge pile of pirate’s treasure. We’d taken turns having our pictures taken with him, and then we were trying to reach the girls on their cell phones so they could come and have their pictures taken, too.

Well, there really wasn’t anyone else around, and Jack was bored, so he came over to us and started chatting us up. He took my camera and started taking pictures of us, himself, and random strangers.

Jack's Self-Portrait

When my son was on the phone with my daughter, Jack asked for the phone, and sure enough, he started talking to B and her friend over the phone. Well, the girls started screaming and screeching, as tween girls will, which Jack thought was funny.

Jack talking to B on D's cell phone.

Upon hearing that shy N wouldn’t come meet him, he asked us where they were. When D said, “At the tree house,” Jack said, “Then off we go!” And before we knew it, we were following Jack Sparrow on a search for my daughter and her friend. It was kind of funny, as he’d have to stop periodically to take a picture or sign an autograph, but he was on a mission and kept pressing on. Before we knew it, we had a small group of people following Jack – not even knowing what he was up to. When we found the girls, N ran away screaming, and Jack chased her down! Which included a rather wild run across the suspended bridge. It was all rather funny (although N was so embarrassed that she didn’t think so), and he took pictures with us and then all of the other folks who had followed him on his chase. I even managed to take some video of the hunt and chase, although I’d turned my phone vertical for some reason, so now I have to put it through some filter so it will show correctly.

It’s adventures like that which make me love going to Disneyland. I mean, how many people have proof that Jack Sparrow hijacked their camera? You usually just get a standard photo, handshake and an autograph.

A Standard Photo

One after a fun chase.

Although we won't be going to Disneyland to celebrate International Talk Like a Pirate Day this year like we did last (because we've already scheduled to go on the 30th when the kids are out of school for Rosh Hashannah), we'll be there in spirit.

Aarrgh, me mateys! So be havin' a fine time using your pirate-speak, because if ye can't laugh, ye'd better have a pint o' grog and and join in the fun, or ye'll be havin' to walk the plank!

Me and the kido's having a ditch day from school to celebrate
International Talk Like A Pirate Day 2007.

Grrrr... Animals!

Last Sunday, my kids and I had a chance to go to the zoo. It was incredibly hot, but I had a great time. Heck, a baby was involved, so it had to be fun! We went with my big sis, my niece, my niece-in-law, and my great-niece. (That's a lot of nieces, especially for someone who has so many nephews!) Care is 18 months and is quite the independent handful. She's beyond confident; she's fearless!

Usually when we hang out with the babies, I'm the one behind the camera, so I don't really spend all that much time interacting with them. Care loves my daughter though, and on this trip she even asked my son to hold her. He didn't quite know what to do,but when she looks at you and says, "Up, pees?" how can you say no?

I was quite excited when she spontaneously held my hand, but I was beside myself when she asked me to hold her. Apparently, even my wide-brimmed hat wasn't enough to scare her off. (I know the photo isn't all that flattering, but it's the only one I got.)

We looked at the lions, the giraffes, monkeys and elephants together. When I asked her if she wanted to see the lions, she growled. When asked what the monkeys say, she said, "Ooh, ooh, ooh!"

Since she's obviously learning her animal sounds, I made sure to teach her a new one. Elephant. Yep, I can trumpet like a heffalump! The first time I did it, Care looked surprised, but after that she watched me intently to see how I did it. Sure enough, within a few minutes she was at it herself - much to her mother's joy. (I didn't want to take on giraffes. Even I'm stumped by that one!)

My kids say I'm baby crazy - mostly because I change the tone of my voice (it gets more high-pitched), speak excitedly, and smile non-stop when interacting with them. If that makes me baby crazy, well, I guess I am. They're just so darn cute! And to me, nothing can beat the sense of trust a little one has when they grasp as many of your fingers as they can wrap their hand around. Wait, I take that back. They can trump that by snuggling their head onto your shoulder as you hold them. It's pure bliss!

Here's Care (with a very dirty face encrusted with sand and blackberries) giving me a hug of her own volition a few weeks ago when we went to the beach. She just melted my heart!