Hubby was just telling me about how he wanted to get a Farrah Fawcett poster when he was a boy in New Jersey, and how sad he felt for her and her family when news of Michael Jackson's passing flashed onscreen in Yahoo.

My sister also called with the news. My brother-in-law, who is half African American, texted everyone about how MJ was his idol and inspiration. Since I was more into New Wave music during Jackson's heyday, the news, while shocking, merely sent me into reporter mode.

That didn't stop us from catching the flurry of TV newscasts during dinner, though, which we allowed Firstborn Son to watch (switching channels every time the molestation charges part of the story came out.)

"Do you know who Michael Jackson is, sweetie?" I asked my 7-year-old.

"Doesn't he play basketball?" came the reply.

"No, you mean Michael JORDAN," his dad patiently said.

"Oh, sorry."

And out our boy went to play with his little brother.

I wish I can sit down and think about all the ways I will explain the mysteries of life to my boys. Today, Wonder Boy came to report that the hermit crab in our aquarium wasn't moving. Could I please feed it?

I dropped some fish flakes in, all the time thinking of the best way to explain death and dying to a four-year-old.

Our yellow fish darted back and forth eating the flakes while poor Crabby lay sideways at the bottom of the tank.

"Maybe he's just resting," I suggested.

"No, Mom," Wonder Boy retorted. "I think he's dead."

Ahhh, what was that about our kids teaching us?

Wonder Boy asked for his favorite lunch today: miso soup and rice, with extra tofu.

After I served it to him, he sat down on the floor and did his happy dance, shaking his bottom from side to side and jiggling his head from shoulder to shoulder.

"I am so happy I have to dance," he proclaimed.

May you have many reasons to dance today, even if its just for the blessing of a hot bowl of soup.

On this, Mom's 48th Mother's Day, no more macaroni necklaces or scrawled construction paper cards. Lots of flowers and a nice dinner, and this, a bow to everything Mom's taught me. Yes, you are right most of the time, and see, I have been listening, and learning. And thank you.

Here's Mom and Dad on their wedding day, Dec. 3, 1960. They forgot to confirm with the priest so they got a surly stand-in instead. But the bride was radiant and the festivities grand.

Mom on marriage:
1. Work to be an equal partner in everything, from housework to the finances.
2. Trust your husband but trust your instincts too.
3. Don't be a doormat.
4. If all else fails, laugh.

My father died 5,111 days ago today.

            He had been sick for a year, from what his fellow doctors first diagnosed as brain cancer which was actually lung cancer that had metastasized to his brain. When he heard the disease was in his head, he was actually relieved.

            "It's not lung cancer," he reported with some glee, because as a lifelong Winston smoker he wanted to be able to say all those cigarettes didn't hurt him one bit. Life is funny that way.

           

It's time to get off the computer and pay more attention to your child when his conversation is peppered with commercial jingles.

Given a second helping of dinner last night, Wonder Boy beamed and sing-songed: "More, more, more, Morongo!" (This, gleaned from the times Papa watches Laker games. "Let's go Lakers let's go," is another favorite chant.)

And this morning, after a successful trip to the potty, he flushed and announced: "Kaboom! And the stain is gone!"

Bad mommy.

See you all later! Intervention time!

Maybe turning 40 (in two days) is really bothering me, but being pregnant kinda pushes all that anxiety away. But yesterday was one of those days that makes Moms reach a glass of red wine at the end of the day.

Yesterday's accident on the 210 certainly made our Friday challenging. Lots of parents were late to work (even those who left the house at 6:15 a.m.!) and my usual 15-minute drive from Arcadia to Duarte took 45 minutes. After school, our trek took over an hour.

Parents from Firstborn Son's school encountered long commutes from Alhambra to Pasadena.

It was interesting to see how everyone reacts to traffic snarls. I had to stay cool and entertain the kiddos. (We had a blast trying to see who would win a race, us in our car or a little ol' lady walking the trail along Royal Oaks Drive in Duarte. Grandma won.)

Other drivers couldn't stand waiting in line and made U-turns to whatever alternate route they could think of. Others (even moms in minivans, shame on you!) forgot all about courtesy and cut off other drivers or made illegal turns and stops. Most San Gabriel Valley drivers, thank goodness, remembered their driving manners: waiting their turn, not blocking intersections, and saying thank you when we let them in our lane.

Yesterday was a challenge and a major complication, for sure. But we got to go home and enjoy the beginning of our weekend. I think about the two people who left home before dawn on Friday and don't get to do that.

I'll take traffic snarls anyday.

On the days I feed my boys Costco pizza, or treat them to a cookie without a second thought, I think of parents like Nelo and Rose, cousins from New Jersey . I bow before them, not only because they are raising their two sons with so much love, and humor, but also because both boys are thriving despite having multiple allergies.

            Experts say they can't explain why the number of children with food allergies has increased 18 percent in the past decade. About 4 percent of children under 18 -- or 3 million children -- had food allergies in 2007, according to a report from the National Center for Health Statistics, part of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. About 9,500 a year were hospitalized for food allergies from 2004 to 2006 -- more than three and a half times as many as in 1998 to 2000, according to the CDC study.

You can't tell from this blog, but I live...

This is the second day that I feel like my head's above water finally, with the nausea and dizziness, fatigue and general malaise easing up considerably. All this month I've felt submerged and getting more and more depressed, praying for the hyperemesis gravidarum to end.

I'm still on Zofran (I tried getting off it and ended up spending most of the day running from bathroom to kitchen sink) and actually drove around yesterday without the dreaded grocery bag clutched in my hand.

I sympathize with the Muslim family that was kicked out of a AirTran flight in Washington after some passengers reported a suspicious conversation among family members. I applaud that family after hearing interviews with them, that they understood why the suspicion would be there if they had mentioned the words "bomb" or "explosive" and they praised the FBI for their professional treatment.

These are the times we live in.

My sister and I submitted our applications for citizenship at the same time almost two years ago. She received appointments for her fingerprinting, interview and oath-taking within the year. She's an American citizen now. I, meanwhile, am waiting.

Last week, I received a letter from the INS saying they have to retake my fingerprints since it had expired, having been taken 15 months ago. When I came in to the El Monte office to get that done, the consul told me the reason my application was taking so long was because of my name. Not my last name, mind you. But my first: Anissa, which is Arabic for "friendly girl."

The FBI had to clear me first and that was what was taking awhile.

I don't mind this one bit. Please be safe and thorough.

These are the times we live in.

Okay, okay, I've read the books. Seen the movie. (Only once though!) And yes, I'm on board.

My niece Lauren was the one who started reading Stephenie Meyer's "Twilight" series of books way back in 2005. Shortly after, she couldn't wait for each book to come out and she started saving pictures of this Rob Pattinson dude on the computer with the titles "Beautiful" and "Perfect."

I chalked it up to a great book and a great choice of a leading man. Hey, I remember getting all excited about the Sweet Dreams books when I was Lauren's age. She told me "Twilight" is a vampire love story (and a bit about werewolves too). O-kay.

I've never been a New Year's Eve party girl. My parents were always too scared of drunk drivers to let me out much back in the day, and with little ones, we mostly stay home or hang at a relative's house to ring in the new year.

There's always something hopeful about all the parties. Even though we know so many people, so close to us, who have had a house foreclosed, who's been laid off, who are struggling financially, we raise our glasses to hope anyway.

And my three favorite dates, each of whom I'll be kissing come midnight:

Maybe I've been having too many glasses of Bailey's, but boy am I tired!

Tired but happy, despite the flurry of Christmas activities: classroom parties, office parties, Cub Scouts gift exchange, the Monrovia Christmas parade, more parties, ooh! shopping, then Christmas Eve in San Diego and Christmas Day at my in-laws.

The boys made out like bandits: it seems my 6-year-old very sweetly told most relatives what he really wanted for Christmas (namely, games for his DS game and anything Star Wars Clone Wars). My 3-year-old wanted what his brother got.

Hubby got a new pair of chinos and some sweats (yeah, not romantic, but very wifely-practical!)

Hubby came home from his hour and a half commute and totally needed time with me and the boys. He had heard and read about the man who lost his family in the Marine Corps jet crash in San Diego: his wife, 36, their two daughters, 15 months and 2 months (2 months, Hubby kept saying) and his mother-in-law, 60.

Read the story here.

For this man who has literally lost everything to ask us to pray for the pilot is so noble.

It always makes Hubby and I weak-kneed when we hear stories like this. We wept copious tears after this year's earthquake in China, and how parents waited and wailed amid the rubble of their children's school.

You think your kids would be safe in school. You assume the safest place for your wife and little girls would be your own home.

Hubby and I always say "I love you," at least once a day, and always before parting.

Free is fast getting to be one of my favorite words these days.And free is what you get from the folks at PhotoStamps.

Now that I'm an ol' married woman (10 years and counting!) I can share how Hubby and I decide which side of the family to go to on holidays.

No coin-throwing, no rock-paper-scissors or heated arguments about how "your" mother will "never" forgive us for not bringing her grandson to her on Christmas Eve.

Read on, grasshopper, and learn.

We love David Shannon.

My boys love him because he gets them, the high-energy, toy-loving, let-me-show-you-what's-in-my-mouth, pirate-loving boys that they are.

I love him because he's the kind of funny, cool, but still (dare I say it?) sensible parent I want to be. And his books, from the now-classic "No, David!" and it's follow-ups, to "A Bad Case of Stripes" and "How I Became A Pirate" all ring true and witty and wonderfully creative.

We so enjoyed the book reading and signing he did at Vroman's  for his latest, "Too Many Toys," that we might just drop by San Marino Toy and Books when he visits on Wednesday, Nov. 19. I'll get back to you guys about the exact time because he may just be visiting a school there, but if he is going back to the bookstore and signing books, I'll let you know. (I got books signed for my boys, nephews, nieces and assorted godchildren for Christmas.)

Congratulations to Arcadia, selected by Business Week as the top place to raise kids in California. Runners-up were Diamond Bar and Monterey Park.

You know that Far Side cartoon where there's a bird in the sky, with this in its thought balloon: "Up, down, up, down," and below, a dog is looking at a white fence, "bark, don't bark, bark, don't bark," while a man strides on the street: "left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot." On the green grass nearby is a frog, who's thinking, "hop, rest, hop, rest, rest....dang!"

Yup, that's how I feel today.

Bills haven't been paid (I was supposed to do them by noon today), I broke down and ordered pizza for lunch, the boys discovered the joys of washing rocks but trailed dirt and mud into the house and got all wet in this cold day, and Hubby called to say he's not feeling well. Car needs a wash, house is still a mess....

BUT, Hubby's coming home soon and there's a big Hershey bar in the pantry and my boys are now giggling at something funny their cousin said and there's enough light outside to water the rosebushes, which, despite and in spite of me, are blooming yellow and lavender.

And there's enough leftover pizza so I don't have to cook!

There's something to be said for basic lives, lovely routines and the ups and downs, hops and rests of every day.


For everything that's been, thanks. For everything that is to come, yes.