Life, Thoughts, and a trip to see The Festival of Lights

 December has been busy and our calendar has been full, as it usually is this month.
But ever since I heard about the senseless and unthinkable shooting that occured in Newtown Conneticut, I somehow feel like the world should just stop.
I told my mom and dad that I was surprised to see that the sun rose again on December 15th.
Nothing else seems to matter right now other than praying for the people of Newtown, and grieving right along with them.

On Friday December 14th, I had dropped my six year old off at 
kindergarten.
And then I dropped my four year old at preschool.
I went to Sprouts to shop for dinner that night, quickly unloaded my groceries at home, and walked into the Kindergarten building at Hannah's school around 10:30am.
I sat down next to Vanessa, a little boy's mother in Hannah's class.
We were doing some busy work for Hannah's teacher and she asked me if I had heard about the shooting.
I gulped and said "No, what shooting?"
She said she wasn't too sure but she had just overheard the teachers talking about it and tried to look up information on her phone but her phone was about to die.
I quickly googled it,
started to read aloud to Vanessa the first bits of information that was known and tears filled my eyes and I couldn't speak.
I read that the shooter believed to have targeted a kindergarten classroom and that there were 27 confirmed victims and I felt sick.
Here I was in my daughter's kindergarten classroom and I just could. not. imagine.
I was so thankful to be there with Hannah but I couldn't wait to go pick up Claire and just lock ourselves in the safety of our home.

After the girls had gone upstairs for quiet time I turned on the news.
President Obama was addressing the nation.
There are just no words.
I have been crying for days and I just can't imagine any of this.
Every time I look at my beautiful six year old, all I can think about are the names and faces of those other beautiful six year olds who did not make it home from school that day.
I can't look at our Christmas tree with presents beneath it and not think of the families in Newtown, and of the many trees with gifts that some will not ever open.  
I can't stop thinking about how incredibly brave those teachers and principal and faculty were who gave their lives to save so many others.  

I can't help but think Why? Why? Why?  
On Saturday night Mr. Hass and I went out to dinner and I started to cry.  I said that it just doesn't seem right that here we are out to dinner, going on with our lives, when the families in Newtown are suffering and hurting so terribly right now.  

After dinner we went to the movies to see Twilight Breaking Dawn.
And I will say that I thought twice about wanting to sit in a public movie theater.
When we got home we turned on the news and for the first time since hearing about this tragic shooting, I saw hope in the father of one of the victims.  He was saying through his tears that he and his wife's faith is strong, and that they will not let this define them.  And I saw how strong he was and it just gave me a glimmer of hope that these families will heal.  I don't know how, I don't know if I could, but I thought that if he was being so brave and so strong, that I should too.  

I have not stopped thinking about or praying for the people of Newtown.  My heart is so very heavy right now.

And as much as I didn't feel very Christmasey, on Sunday night my family all met up to go to The Festival of Lights at The Mission Inn, and I think it was good for us all.
It was good to be together.  
To hug and to laugh with each other.
And it was good to see our innocent and happy children enjoying the wonderment and the spirit of Christmas.
And with them, we did too.

 The kids really enjoyed seeing the real live reindeer.

 Standing in line at Casey's Cupcakes and it was "snowing".  Hannah stuck her tongue out to catch it and I laughed while explaining to her that it was soap and not really snow. 

Hannah knew about the world's largest mistletoe according to the Guinness World Record and she was dying to see it.  I think she got a real kick out of it.

 No ice skating this time, but they sure seemed interested in it.

It was a fun night and I am glad we went.
But I am sad that at one point I did look around and realize that we were in a small area with a lot of people and I wondered what would we do if someone started shooting?  Where would I put my children?  How would I protect them?

After we put our girls to bed that night,
we listened and watched as President Obama spoke to the people of Newtown.
I hung onto his every word.
Nodding my head and crying along the way.
I loved what he said about how we all need to look out for and love each other's children as well as our own.
Because with each step they take, they do walk a little bit farther away from the safety of our arms alone.
As a parent entering into the public school system with my daughter for the first time, I am now very aware of the fact that it is not only me who will be caring for my children.
Five days a week, for several hours a day my girls will be in someone else's care.
It is a very hard realization, but it just is.
I want my daughters to grow up to be strong, confident, and independent women.
But I cannot get them there alone.
This has opened my eyes to how much my children's teachers really do love my kids as well.
And I want to be loving and nurturing to all of the children in my community because like President Obama said, these are all our children.

After we watched tv and were headed up to bed, it was 11pm and I let out a sob and could not stop.
Because even though I knew that Claire had school in the morning, it hadn't really dawned on me that I would be taking her to school, and leaving her in someone else's care.
I know that Hannah is now off on winter break for three weeks and I knew Claire still had one more week of school.
But it hadn't really sunk in.
Until that moment.
I realized that I would be hugging her and saying I will see you in a few hours, just like all those other parents in Newtown had done on December 14th.  
I was paralyzed with fear and could have very easily let it consume me.
I cried.
Hard.
And then I told myself to pull it together and I will see how I feel about it in the morning.
And then Mr. Hass showed me this article that had popped up on Zite.  
It is for parents regarding the anxiety about taking your children back to school.
Please read it if you have school aged children.
It helped me.  And had I not read it, I don't know that I would have taken Claire to school this morning.

I feel so emotionally exhausted, and I can not imagine how the survivors and people of Newtown must feel.
I hope they know that they are not alone in their grief. 
And that our entire nation grieves with them.
I am praying for you Newtown.
And I am living each day with purpose, and with thankfulness that will not be taken for granted.  

Time.

All my life, my Dad has always told my siblings and I that "Time is the most precious thing we all have".

He wanted us to really comprehend that.  To be respectful of other people's time. To be on time. To mind who we spend our time with.  And what we spend our time on.

I think when we are young, time is not really a factor in our minds.
We think we will have plenty of time.
Time to do this.  Time to do that.  Time to become who we want to be.   We think we have all the time in the world, because we are young.  That is what I used to think anyway.

When I was a sophomore in high school, I know I didn't think much about "time".
I thought a lot about the cute freshman guy that was in my algebra class that I really wanted to notice me.
Notice me he did, and soon algebra (math is not my best subject) quickly became my favorite class.  And not because I liked learning about fractions.  But because I had fun flirting with this cute freshman guy named Mike, and giggling at his best friend John. 

My friends all thought I was crazy because I had a crush on a freshman.  We were supposed to like the older boys right? 
Well it wasn't long before Mike and I were "going out" and several of my friends were dating his other cute freshman friends. 

I dated Mike most of my sophmore year, and that summer leading up to my junior year.  That summer was the most memorable summer of my youth.  I was so in love and so carefree.  I had become great friends with Mike's two best friends John and Aaron.  That summer we all had so many fun adventures.  I know I was only 16, but I knew I had fallen in love, and I knew that it was real. 

Mike and I dated all through my junior year and his sophomore year.  Even though he was a year under me, we were only 6 months apart.  He took me to the dances.  Treated me like a lady.  Always opened my door.  I cheered him on at the jv football games, and he came to my softball and volleyball games with his friends.  He took me to my very first play and we saw The Phantom of the Operah at the Pantageous Theater in LA.  He was smart.  He was well rounded.  He came from a great family.  He was who I thought I had been looking for. 

As summer was approaching at the end of my junior year, Mike started to act a little differently.  He had gotten his driver's license, and wanted to be driving around with the guys all the time.  I knew that the guys had started to smoke pot, and he knew that I was not okay with that. 

It was right before school got out for the summer that he came over to my house and broke up with me.

It was the first time I had truly had my heart broken.
I threw up.
And if you know me, you know I am so stubborn I don't even throw up when I get the stomach flu.
But I was so heart sick.

That summer I cried a lot.  I still talked to John and Aaron. 
They told me that Mike wanted to get back together, but he just wanted to be able to feel like he could have the summer to goof off.
I guess in a way I understood, but that did not make my broken heart hurt any less.

As that summer was drawing to a close, John had been calling me a lot more.  He would tell me that Mike keeps talking about wanting to see me.  He wants to call me.  Will I talk to him.  Of course I wanted to, but I was not going to make it that easy for him.  I figured I would dress super cute those first couple weeks of school and make sure he saw me, but I would play hard to get.  He broke my heart, I was not just going to let him waltz right back in so easy.

September 7, 1998 was the day before my senior year of high school.  My parents had gone out to breakfast, and my sister and I were sleeping in like teenagers typically do.  My sister and I had our own phone line back then, and the phone rang just before 8am.  I sleepily answered, and it was John.  I told him I was sleeping and to call me back later. He said "Wake up.  Genn I gotta tell you something.  Wake up."  I said no call me back, and he yelled at me and said Genn listen to me, sit up, I have to talk to you.  So by now I was listening and asked him what it was.  He was quiet and sounded like he had been crying.  He said "Genn, Mike died.  Mike was in a car accident and he died."            

I told John to shut up, and that this was so not a funny joke.  He said he was not lying, and that he was going to come over. 

After that, things get a little blurry.  I was screaming.  My sister woke up and found out and called my parents and told them to get home.  John's Mom got on the phone and told me that John was on his way over, and that he wasn't lying to me.  My Grandma came straight over, and after that it is a little hazy. 

By that afternoon so many friends and people from school were at my house.  I went over to Mike's Mom's house at one point.  It was awful.  It was so surreal.  It was so hard to understand.
It felt impossible to be true.  And yet it was.

Mike was driving his car with three other guys inside.
Mike and two of the guys that were brothers died immediately.
The other guy was in a coma for six months, and half way through my senior year, he came back to school. 

It was all so strange.  My entire senior year felt strange.  It felt like I didn't belong there.  I felt like what used to be important in high school, like who you hung out with, what you wore, what you were doing that weekend, just didn't matter anymore. 

Losing Mike was not my first experience losing a loved one, but it was the first time I had known anyone so young that had died.  It was then, that I realized some truths about this world.  I learned that bad things really do happen to good people.  I learned that life is just not fair.  I learned that just because you are young, you are not invincible.  I learned that my Dad was right.

Time really is the most precious gift we all have.

I feel so blessed that Mike was such a special part of my life.  He taught me so very much about life and love.  He set the bar very high for me in the future.  I will never forget Mike Murphy.  Or the life lessons that he taught me.

I will forever be conscious of time.
I try to always spend it wisely.
And with those who matter to me.

A Little Blue Pill

Last Saturday while Grandma Hass was still here, I had to work.

That morning I was pouring a cup of coffee and Hannah, Mr. Hass, Grandma Hass and I were waking up downstairs.  Hannah was crouched down behind a chair in the living room where Diane's luggage was.  We told her to get out of her Grandma Hass' things, and she said it was fine.

In the next moment I heard Hannah coughing and gagging, and heard Mr. Hass yell, "What is in your mouth Hannah?"

I ran to their side and Hannah was choking and spitting out something blue.  She had gotten into Diane's pill pack and we did not know what she had put in her mouth, or how many...

Mr. Hass was shouting to his Mom, "What did you have that was blue? How many blue pills did you have?"

At first she said it was an aleve, and then said no it was a lunesta (sleeping pill).  In the panicked state that I was in, I practically yelled at her "Well how many did you have?! How many blue pills were in there?!"

Meanwhile, Hannah is crying and gagging and continuously spitting the remnants of the blue pill (or pills?) out of her mouth.

Diane said she was positive that there was only one lunesta in her case.  We asked Hannah over and over again, "Did you take any more than that? How many did you put in your mouth?"

Through her tears she assured us that she only took one, and that she thought it was candy.

Sure, why not.  Our kids don't see us take pills, we don't leave pills anywhere that they might see them, so of course a little blue pill might look like candy to a three year old.

Before we were sure exactly what Hannah took, Mr. Hass was very concerned with getting as much of it as we could out of her mouth.  He asked her if she needed to be sick so he tried sticking his finger down her throat as she cried and gagged over the bathroom toilet, but she wouldn't throw up.

Later when we were pretty positive that she just put one in her mouth (why would she put more than that after she chewed that first one and realized that it most certainly was not candy?), we were much less concerned.  Well, really, Mr. Hass being the pharmacist, was much less concerned, and I still had a somewhat panicked look on my face.  I was ready to call 911 but he assured me that if he had to choose a pill for Hannah to swallow, that would have been it.  He said nothing would happen other than she might get sleepy.  Considering how she spit most of it out, I was not too worried after that.

However, it was a good lesson for us all.  Diane felt bad, and it was not her fault at all.  It was an accident that was no one's fault, but it sure made me think what I can do to prevent it in the future.  As soon as Claire is old enough to have that talk, we will explain to her about medicine and pills, and teach her that they are not candy.  Hannah was pretty embarrassed afterwards, and later said that she will not ever ever take grown up'd medicines again.

The Vacay That Was a Bust

Vacation... Schmacation.

You'd think I would have learned by now that a staycation would have been a much better idea.

Sure we look happy enough.

This was just the beginning.

It is just so much work to pack up and leave for a trip like this, that this time I really think it just wasn't worth it.

I read on Erin's blog that she quickly learned a vacation with kids is NOT a vacation.  So she calls it a "family trip".  Genius.  Of coure that is what it should be called.  Because that is what it is.

And just by calling it family trip, the expectations of a lavish and relaxing vacation are immediately gone.  Because there is nothing relaxing or lavish about a vacation with kids.  Bottom line.  Family trip is much more realistic, and can still be lots of fun, just in a different kind of way than one expects a "vacation" to be.

So from here on out, traveling with the girls will always be called a family trip. Thanks for the tip Erin. 

This trip got me thinking about past experiences of traveling with kids.

It's never gone very smooth for us now that I think about it...

-There was the time we flew to Boise when Hannah was just 4 months and she got her first cold.  I blamed myself for putting her on an airplane and getting my baby sick.

-Then there was the time that we flew to Chicago for a wedding (Hannah was 8 months) and were stuck in a holding pattern due to inclement weather and had to fly around in circles for hours, after we had already exhausted all of the toys, snacks, and entertainment we brought on board for Hannah.

-Then there was the time we flew to Boise again and Mr. Hass' mom got a flat tire on the freeway on the way home.  Hannah was about 13 months, it was winter, and freezing, and we sat on the side of the freeway with cars rushing by waiting for triple AAA to come rescue us, while I had horrible visions of cars striking us and resulting in images not worth remembering.

-Then there was the time we put both girls on a plane last September and our flight was delayed out of LAX for 5 hours.  We were supposed to land at our destination mid day and instead arrived at the airport at 9pm with two very tired and very very cranky little girls.

So, in conclusion...

I have learned my lesson.

Next year it is a staycation for us for sure.

And I can not wait until Mr. Hass and I go to Hawaii (alone) in 2012 for our 10 year anniversary.  Hawaii here we come.

When we arrived at The Embassey Suites in Oxnard, we threw our stuff in the room and walked down to the beach to investigate.

Hannah thought we were in Hawaii.

And Claire wanted nothing to do with the sand.

Hannah thought our one night stay in a hotel was vacation.

Our time on the beach that evening was short lived, and Hannah wanted to go swim.

Claire's teething has turned her into someone we don't recognize.

Mr. Hass joked that we need to have an excorcism to get our sweet baby Claire back.

She did nothing but whine and cry no matter what we were doing.

It might not look like it, but it's true.

She wasn't very happy swimming, and it was near dinnertime, so we got the girls dried off and headed over to happy hour.

The girls did not want to sit and snack while we enjoyed our cocktails.

They wanted to throw rocks.

So we were done.

We went back to the room to clean up and figure out what to do for dinner.

The girls were too busy to eat, so I fed them snacks and we just ordered an overpriced pizza from the hotel.

We had a beautiful view and a great room.

I'm still sad that we never got to enjoy it.

Night time was horrible.

We had been waking up around 5:30am for several days before the trip due to Claire's teething.

So it's no suprise that there was little sleep to be had on vacation. (I use that term loosely now if you can't tell)

To top it off, Hannah wet the bed (pullout sofa) around 4:30am.

Everything was soaked, including her nie nie.

She woke us up to tell us, which in turn woke Claire up, which meant, hello 5am we are all awake for the day.

Not fun.

We just knew that the girls probably would not nap either.

Which would undoubtedly lead to more crankiness, and crying screaming fits thrown.

I was not about to waste money and time on a not so fun week.

SO we packed up and headed home.

There is nothing I hate more than wasting time.

I was in such a bad mood for this huge waste of time.

I spent so much time preparing and packing and grocery shopping for this trip.

All for nothing.

I let my bad mood stay with me for most of the week.

Then Friday we went to my happy place (Nordstrom) and I started to snap out of it.  :)

We got both girls some new shoes and Hannah some new clothes for school. 

Hannah and I met her teacher on Thursday and she was great.

Hannah had her first homework assignment.

My favorite were her answers for "things that make me happy".

She starts school tomorrow.

Mr. Hass and I had a nice date on Saturday night.

We strolled around Home Depot (got some exciting projects coming soon) and had dinner at The Cheesecake Factory.

Then we strolled around Barnes N Noble before heading home.

So, thanks to a trip to my happy place, a nice date night, and a relaxing second half of staycation, I am in a much better mood now.

I've learned my lesson.

Family trips are not the same thing as a vacation.

End of story.

Never Again Will I...

I made a vow.
I signed a pledge.
A promise to myself, and to my children.

Last night after I watched The Bachelor (oh the drama), I was tired, it was late, and I knew I should be heading off to bed. But...

I had several Oprah's recorded on my dvr, and I just wanted to maybe watch a little bit of one.

So I picked one show at random, and started to watch. It was a show about the repercussions of driving while texting and/or talking on the phone.

The number of preventable deaths that have occured because of this completely blew me away. After the first story I was in tears. The kind of tears where I had to run and get the box of kleenex, and I watched the rest of the show with one hand over my heart and one over my mouth.

I will admit that I am guilty of doing both. I have texted while driving (not often, but I have). And I have talked on the phone many times while driving. And I will admit that I know that for me, talking on the phone is a distraction. It is a completely unnecessary one. There is nothing so important that I need to be discussing while I drive. Nothing. If there is, I will pull over and make a call.

Being a defensive driver is half the battle on the roads.

If you did not see this episode of Oprah, let me just tell you about one woman's story. I will remember it forever. And because of it, I will NEVER again talk on my phone, answer my phone, text, or even look at my phone, while I am driving.

This woman was on her way home from her own dr. appointment one afternoon, driving by herself, and she made a call to her dad. She ended the call quickly when she got to the end of her street and there were multiple flashing lights, police, ambulance and fire trucks. Then she saw it. In the street, was her daughter's mangled bike. Her daughter was lying on the ground.

Oh my gosh. I can not even write this without crying.

She got out of the car and saw her husband, looking shocked and full of grief. The woman driver of the suv involved kept saying "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't see her. I'm so sorry."

The driver of the suv was texting when she hit the little girl on her bike. She ran over her with her 15,000 lb suv. The little girl was 15 pedals from home.

The nuerosurgeon at the hospital made it very clear that their daughter would not make it. She died 2 days later.

She died because a driver was texting while driving.

I can't even imagine what that was like for this poor mother.

So I wrote it down. I made a pledge, and now I am writing it down again on my blog, with the hopes that maybe someone else might read this, and they will make the same pledge.

I, Gennifer Hass, will never again talk on my cell phone or text while I am driving. I will not answer a call, and I will not read an incoming text.

If you decide to do the same, you could save a life. You could save your own. You might save a child's. Write it down. Sign it. Stick with it. I know I will.

Dinner at the Table

Some of the most important things my parents taught me, they did without speaking a word about it. They taught by example. It's funny how much more I am aware of those lessons now that I am a mother with a family of my own.

Growing up, my Mom prepared dinner for us just about every single night. We always ate dinner at the table together as a family. The table was always set (which one of us kids was usually in charge of), napkins were always in our laps, elbows were always off the table, and good conversation was always had.

As a kid, and even a teenager, I have such fond memories of sitting down to eat with my family. I loved to hear about everyone's day and share funny stories with each other. Once I had my driver's license, there were many times when my Dad would say "I'll buy if you fly", and my sister and I would run out and pick up Miguel's or something. And even then, we would all sit down and eat together.

I am looking forward to creating these kinds of memories with my kids. Teaching by example. So that one day when they are grown women, with families of their own, they will know what to do. They will know the importance of dinner time as a family. And not just the importance of eating together. They will know how to set a table properly, which utensils go on the right and which go on the left, how to behave in a restaurant, how to act on a date, what to look for in a man on a date, and so many other things. I look forward to teaching them by my example.

Since the New Year has begun, we've been eating at the table often. Hannah has been setting the table.

She's learned that her napkin goes in her lap, and to eat like a lady, and partake in family conversation. She's also learning to stop and listen when someone else is talking.

Claire seems to really love sitting together and watching us all interact. She babbles and squawks (is that how you spell squawks?) a lot, joining in on the fun. She has had her first popsicle at the table.

This is my current centerpiece. I got the apothecary jar and the apples at Tai Pan.

Also on the table right now, my Valentine's Day table runner. Found this last year at Pier 1.

Since I have been trying to re-create our dining space and make it more casual, I am really pleased with the way it's coming along so far. Next thing I want to get is new window panels, and I've got my eye on some.

I look forward to many great memories and dinners in this space.

A Positive Influence

Have you ever had someone in your life really influence you? Change you? Has someone ever made such an impact on you, and they didn't know how you felt?


I think sometimes we don't always tell people how we feel about them, and we should. We just don't know if we might get the opportunity again to tell someone how special you think they are. Or how their influence in your life meant so much to you.


A while back, I had blogged about a bad day I was having. And then later wrote about perspective. I found out that my bad day, really wasn't a bad day at all. I discovered that a wonderful former high school teacher of mine was battling an inoperable form of cancer.


I was lucky throughout my years of schooling, because I had many great teachers. This one in particular stood out above the rest. I wanted him to know how I felt, and to thank him for being that kind of a teacher and role model for me, and to tell him that I am praying for him and his family everyday. But I wasn't sure how.


Months went by, and I continued to think about him often, and pray for him often. I hear him occassionally doing the school announcements at the high school across from my house. But he didn't know that I thought of him so much.


I wanted to write him a letter, and let him know what kind of impact he had on me in high school. Let him know what a fun and cool teacher I thought he was. Let him know that I am so sorry to hear about his illness. But I wasn't sure how.


I have lost 3 people that I loved dearly to cancer. It is an awful disease. I pray that one day there will be a cure for it. It is a very scary word to me. I don't like to think about it. I don't like to hear about it. And now I know of this teacher, who meant so much to me, that is now battling it too. I wanted to write him, but I just did not want my letter to sound like a goodbye letter. So I wrote nothing. But prayed for him often.


Then recently Patrick Swayzee lost his battle to cancer. I was really sad about his death. He seemed so strong and upbeat throughout it all. Just like how I've heard my former teacher has been handling his battle. With the upmost optimism possible. When Patrick Swayzee's passing was announced, it just hit me that we don't have an endless amount of time to tell people how we feel about them. And I wanted Mr. Sawaya to know how I felt.


So I wrote him a letter.


I called my Mom to read it back to her, and I cried.


She said it sounded very nice. So I put it in an envelope, and my Mom's neighbor who works with Mr. Sawaya said she would personally hand it to him.


I wasn't sure if he would remember me. After all it was 12 years ago that I was in one of his classes. I included a picture of me and my family to jog his memory if need be.


He told my Mom's neighbor that he read my letter, and of course he remembers me, and would I please call him at the school.


I called him today.


He said Gennifer, can I say something? I just want to say THANK YOU. Thank you so much for your letter and your words. That really means so much to me.


He told me that letting people know how you feel is something that sometimes is not said until it is at their funeral. And that for him and his family, through this "health opportunity" that is the biggest thing he has learned, is to tell people how you feel about them because you just never know when your next chance might be.


Even now he is a prime example for me to learn by. His optimism and positive attitude amaze me. I could only hope that I would react in such a way if I were him.


He thanked me for my letter, and also told me that I was a great and memorable student for him. He even reminded me of something that I had forgotten about. My freshman year of history with Mr. Sawaya, he made a bet with our class that we all had to achieve a certain grade, and if the whole class did it, he would eat a can of cat food. Our class won the bet, and Mr. Sawaya ate the cat food! I had completely forgotten about that. He was a fun teacher.


Not everyone is lucky enough to have a teacher that leaves such a lasting impression on them. I'm so glad that I did.


Who in your life has made such an impact on you? Do they know how you feel?

You should tell them.