Full Speed Ahead

In 2006, we felt lost. And I was hella fat.

Rich had just been in a huge accident with his big rig, and with a potential $5 million lawsuit pending against the company and us, his job was uncertain. I was reeling from some bad career decisions, and we needed money—fast. But life happens. Due to a health scare, I was admitted into the hospital for a week.

We thought that was bad. It was. But we couldn’t change it.

It wasn’t the end of the world. It wasn't fun, but I lost a lot of weight. When I got out of the hospital, I focused on my health, and looked forward to getting a better job.

I called in a favor from a friend and went to interview for the position of a Licensed Financial Consultant at a large bank. Severely under qualified, I put on my best face and wore my red and black pinstriped suit from ROSS. Don’t be jealous, but it had a red modesty panel. I felt good, confident, and positive. But, as I was getting out of my car for the interview, the seam ripped, right up the middle of my ass. So, I followed the suits into the interview room, and walked sideways as we said our goodbyes. I got into the elevator and wanted to shoot myself. That was my first sign that this wasn’t going to be good. My next sign happened immediately after the interview when I sat in my car and saw myself in the mirror. My red lipstick had seeped into the laugh lines above and below my lips, making me look like the Joker.

That interview was bad. But I couldn’t change it.

There was no way they should have hired me. But they did. (Probably because I’m super fine.)

It was a new path, far away from the Advertising and Marketing game that I had been in for over a decade. I had a salary, obtainable commissions and financially—it was an easy decision for the family.

A few months later, Rich quit his job and went to work as an apprentice for a heating and air company. He was offered a fraction of what he had been used to making. Although we knew money would be tight, we didn’t feel like we had too many options. Neither of us particularly liked our jobs, but we did what we had to do, including pulling our daughter out of her private school and entering the public school system.

Six weeks into his job, while stepping onto the roof of a 16-foot building, he "lost his balance" (when his jackass coworker let go of the ladder) and fell. He broke his back in two places. Overnight, he was making zero money. Eventually, we fell behind in mortgage.

We thought that was bad. It was. But we couldn’t change it.

We were scared. We were hopeless because we felt helpless. There was nothing we could change or do. He physically couldn’t work. And now, we faced surgery, recovery time, and therapy. And then there were the bills that could care less about our woes.

Panic quickly set in. I hated my job. Like, HATED it. I was also gaining weight again. I loved a couple people I worked with, but banking is NOT FOR ME. No way. No how. But what was I supposed to do? We “needed” money. So, I stayed and did what I thought was right. I provided for the family at a job I hated.

Eight months went by, and Rich was at still home, recovering from surgery and doing physical therapy. I am sure I was a peach to be around. I desperately needed a creative outlet. So, I decided to put an ad on Craigslist for Freelance Copywriting. It’s what I really, REALLY wanted to do in my career.
Within a week, an agency called me and said that a large credit union wanted to hire me as a temporary Copywriter.

It was my dream job—but we needed money.

I knew in my gut, it was my chance to get my foot in the door of professional writing; creative thinking, editing, and I would be doing what I love. It would also get me completely out of sales. But—It was also $15k less per year, no benefits, temp to hire, and at least 40 minutes away from the house. We met, and I left the meeting devastated.

Except for the fact that I would be HAPPY and LOVE my career, I had No business taking that job.

                              Except for the fact that I would be HAPPY and LOVE my career

I came home and we talked all weekend. At the end of a long weekend, my husband said “You know what? Fuck it. I want my wife happy. This is your dream job—Take it!”

At that moment, we decided to say EFF IT ALL.

We SURRENDERED. Life was throwing us obstacles left and right, and we were sick of dodging them. It was our time to do something that would make us happy, well at least one of us … and so I took the job. And it was rad.

And then …we told the bank to stick it. “No, we won’t send you the paperwork for the third time, get your shit together or we will be happy to leave.” And you know what? The bank refinanced our mortgage and took off $76k of principle.

We stopped trying to change the unchangeable (I don't even know--or care--if that's a real word.)

So for the past 4 years, I have enjoyed my career. And doors opened that I could have never imagined. Yes, we had to make severe financial sacrifices, but we kept our home. And Rich received an education in a career that he was always interested in, but never felt that he had the means to explore. And we went to Maui. And Daisy has had a parent home with her for 5 years of field trips, activities, good and bad days. And..and…and…I say “and” too much…and we had a baby. A healthy BABY.

Slowly, our dreams started coming true when we surrendered and lived for happiness.

Four years ago, I stopped making excuses and decided to be happy. Since then, I've reaped the benefits: Lost weight, vacationed,  made new forever friends, renewed old friendships, dropped toxic relationships, said no, said yes, got pregnant, had a baby....and then some.

And through it all, we embraced a newfound appreciation for surrendering. As we let go of material items, we embraced each other more. It changed us. It bonded us. That’s the real stuff.

So now it’s time to follow my heart again. Financially, it makes no sense. But, we’ve been through worse. With the backing of my incredibly generous and supportive hubby, I’m leaving the job that I love to be home with the ones I love more … and to open some other doors.

The Universe doesn’t disappoint.

In the first 48 hours, I’ve received several lucrative opportunities that let me know what I am doing is the right thing for our lives, goals and dreams. I know, for sure, that the best is yet to come.

My heart is overflowing. The outpouring of emails, comments, phone calls and visits reaffirms my decision to do this, and I can't say enough thanks to all my friends and family.

I can’t wait to pick up that microphone and perform more. I can’t wait to spend the days with my baby and make my daughter breakfast and pick her up from school.

I can’t wait to LIVE this next chapter.

Welcoming Ryan

It's been too long since my last entry. So, for those of you who are not in ear shot, on Facebook or Twitter and/or haven't heard the news: Ryan arrived on September 19 at 9:20am, weighing 7.0 lbs and measuring 19.5 inches... And our lives are forever changed.

Although he was due September 24, Ryan made his presence known a week before, on a Sunday at 11:00am in Safeway. My contractions started strong and only increased with each aisle. We were on a family trip to the store, to do "big shopping" in case he came that week. And boy, did he.

By the time we got home from the store, the contractions were 10 minutes apart and lasting for about 10-30 seconds. I sat on the couch with a huge smile on my face and winced with each one. I stopped smiling after two hours. This shit hurt. Luckily my mom was in town and practically skipped over to pick up Daisy. Unbeknownst to me, she also called into work for the week, bought more groceries and settled in at her house with our daughter.

By 5pm, the contractions were so painful, I was sure it was GO TIME. We grabbed our bag and went to Kaiser. They checked me in and I made it to the room between contractions. Now, my original plan was to listen to my body and go with the flow ... right? Right. So I was POSITIVE at 5pm that I was at least dilated to 6, and should begin pushing any time. After all, I had major contractions at home for the past five hours.

Wrong.

Not only was I only at 3, but my contractions were only between 4-6 minutes apart. They sent me home and told me to come back when they were closer. I bared down and prepared my head for the next few hours. I knew I could do this natural labor.

We came home, drew a hot bath and I channeled my inner Riki Lake as I labored until 11pm. I moaned, I groaned, I swayed, I stretched, Rich massaged me and made me an English muffin. For about four hours, I labored, meditated and lost my mucous plug. That was my sign. It came out--now it's time! We got in the car and were excited to see how far I had progressed ... to a big, fat four centimeters.

Time stopped. My dreams were shattered. I caved.

I wanted drugs and scalpels and doctors and formula and I wanted them NOW!

Get me the epidural, make it stop, cut him out, I'm done. I failed.

My epidural was a disaster. The nurse tried twice, and it couldn't hit the mark, you know, my spinal column. It was super painful. Then this dude came in and he got the needle in on the first try. And within a few minutes I was completely numb--on my left side only. FML.

My right side was a little numb, but I still felt every contraction. However with a few presses of my morphine drip, I slipped into a two hour nap and although my husband says I moaned through every contraction, I was sure I was sleeping.

At 2am, the midwife came in to check on me. She said I was still at 6cm, and I hadn't progressed in a few hours. She would check on me again in an hour. At 3am, I was still at 6cm, but the contractions were 3 minutes apart and the epidural had completley vanished from my right side. I was in pain, but now I was scard. Every time I would lay on my side to try to get some relief, Ryan's heart rate would drop to 60. They were getting concerned.

At 4am, my water broke. I came out of my trance and yelled "Baby, my water broke!" His response... wait for it... "are you sure?"

I could have said so many things.... but I just laughed and said..."uh, yeah."

Within moments, we were told there was a problem. He pooped in the womb, big time. They referred to it as thick, pea soup. They let me continue labor for another couple hours, but then his heartbeat kept dropping with each contraction and it was time to do something else.

A new doctor came in, and explained to me that this wasn't good. I wasn't dilating, and nothing had changed in 5 hours. I asked him if I could push, because I felt the urge. He said yes. With his hand inside, he said to try. I was. He said to stop, Ryan wasn't in the right position.

He looked at me and Rich and said "I think we should do an emergency C-Section."

"Cut her open," said my husband. Classy.

It felt like seconds, but it was about an hour process to get me in the OR. I was scared. But I just kept repeating "I am in good hands. My baby will be fine."

As they prepped me, alone, in the OR, I was told that since my epidural didn't work, they would be giving me a spinal. If that didn't work, they would put me to sleep. The spinal was much more comfortable, in fact, before they layed me all the way down, I couldn't feel my toes. They were happy with that. But then I couldn't feel my breasts. And from my lovely lady lumps all the way down to my manicured toes, I was numb. Which made it WAY harder to puke because I couldn't feel a fucking thing. But alas, I felt weird, looked at the nurse, and she held a bag up to my mouth as my body did what it was made to do--throw up.

Rich was finally allowed in the room right before they cut me open. They let us know that we would not hear our baby cry right away because they needed to suction his mouth and nose right away to ensure he didn't inhale his own poop. We braced for that. It was a long few minutes and they narrated it all for us.

"Ok, You're going to feel pressure and pulling..."

I felt nothing. No pressure, no pulling.

"Ok, he's really stuck in there, hang on."

I still felt nothing. Easy.

"He looks great."

We heard suctioning, and a doctor talking to him. And for a split second, my heart sank, but I continued to remain positive. He's ok, you're ok, you're in good hands.... and then we heard it, a loud, high pitched shreik.
I had given birth to a cat.

"Is that him?" I asked my husband. As if it could be anything else.

And then there he was, across the room to my left, under lights. Two nurses and a doctor were working on him. He was squeaking. He was pink. He was beautiful. I longed to hold him, put him on my bare chest, kiss him, but that wouldn't happen. After a brief kiss and smell of my son, Rich and the doctors took him into a new room. I cried myself to sleep as they stitched me up.

And if that's the only negative, then I'm ok with it because I know people who went through all of this, and didn't even get to bring their baby home, ever.

The recovery room was small, so we chose to only have Daisy come back and see him first. It was magical to see our baby girl hold our baby boy. It's a moment I will never forget. Rich and I were very emotional. It was perfect. Once I got into a room, our moms came in, along with our niece and my brother. Within hours, my dad came by and the next day our good friends and more family visited. We were so blessed to see so many happy faces.

So that's what happened. I got knocked up and had a baby. And now, he is 5 months old and I'm just telling people about the birth. Classic.

Thanks and No Thanks

Photo by Isabel Ginsberg

I have been in a daze lately. Partially because I am TIRED. Partially because reality is hitting me HARD. My belly is growing faster than my brain can compensate that in a few short weeks, we will have a baby. A real, healthy, bouncing baby boy. And his name is Ryan. And every time I see or hear his name, my heart sinks. I still can’t believe it’s happening after so many years of wanting, desiring, hurting and longing for just one more little miracle. He is almost here.

It’s important for me to not lose track of our first miracle, Daisy. She will be 12 in about a week. For so many years, it has been the three of us. We are trying to let her know that we are aware of her feelings and the fact that we still love her and will continue to adore her as every child deserves to be adored. This is so important to us.

This journey has been so overwhelming and so surreal.I often find myself fantasizing about seeing Ryan’s face. Every time I envision Daisy hold him for the first time, I tear up and feel a huge lump in my throat.

Along with visualizing my family holding a healthy baby, I am trying to imagine a labor that goes extremely well. Bringing Daisy into the world was a long, 28+ hour labor. If we knew then what we know now, we would have had a C-section. To this day, we are grateful that she came out ok. That experience has instilled a bit of fear into me and I would be lying to say I’m not concerned about this one. I keep telling myself not to worry though—he will come out one way or another. I am hoping that he comes when he is ready and that my body opens up and allows him into the world the way that it was made to do.

So with about 32 days to go, let the nesting being. Time to wash baby clothes, put them away, organize the baby gear, gather the last few things I need and decorate the baby room. It’s also time to pack a bag for the hospital and write out my birth plan.

My birth plan is to labor at home until I can’t any longer, and then head up the street to the hospital. I’m not oppose to drugs, but they will not be my first choice. With Daisy, they induced me at 1 cm and broke my water. They made me lay down, and I received Pitocin and an epidural in the afternoon. And I felt everything in my right ovary. Every single pain. At the 6:00 a.m. the next day, the Anesthesiologist refused to give me more medicine, telling me clearly “I’ve given you enough to put your husband out for major surgery.” From that point until 11:40 a.m., I was on my own. And we survived. But not without complications.

This time, I want it to be different. This time, I want my body to go into labor naturally, on it’s own, the way it should happen. I am open to whatever and however that happens. I am not above taking meds, I just want them to be a last resort. I want to labor, shower, walk at my house until I can’t any longer. I want to be in the hospital only during the last few hours. I want my music, I want low lights, and I want this baby to be placed on my chest as soon as he comes out.

So that’s it. 32 days left until the ThreeGarcias become Four. It’s weird. A good weird. When I talk to people, I reference “my kids.” That is weird. When I talk about Ryan, I use his name, or say “he.” That is weird. Our guest room is now “His” room. Weird.

Photo and Onsie by Isabel Ginsberg

But there has been one other “weirdness” to this pregnancy. Like, when people ask questions. I am amazed the nerve of people and how they think it’s their right to ask—let alone know—answers to our life. I am sure new moms deal with this all the time, but after struggling for a decade with infertility, I am cautions—no, downright offended—when people pass their judgments through little, inconspicuous questions over the past nine months.

Here is a list of come of those awesome comments/questions:

“Same dad?” Uhm…yeah, some people do stay together for a long time these days. Weird, Huh?

My wonderful brother and Daisy

“WOW-12 years’ difference, that’s a lot!” Actually, it’s miraculous and special and I can’t talk about it without getting teary eyed. My brother is 12 years younger than me. I remember holding him and loving every part of his little baby ways. He was a happy baby and although we didn’t see each other often, being the oldest, I still felt an overwhelming protectiveness over him. The summer after I met my husband, my brother was turning about to turn 12. We took him to Great America. He was a sweet boy, super funny albeit a little insecure. Today, he is a handsome 25-year old and has become one of my favorite people. He is 12 years older than Daisy and seeing them together makes my heart smile. Their bond has grown a lot this past year and they are just adorable together. And now, Daisy will be 12 years older than Ryan. I have no doubt that Daisy and Ryan will be close for the first few years, and then super close in their adult years, as me and my brother are. So, no it's not a big difference. It's our story, it's what we know.

“Someone got surprised!??” Yes, we did. And surprises like this are little, unimaginable gifts that we do not take lightly.

“Are you going to circumcise him?” WOW-that’s pretty personal. If I wanted to talk about it, I would have brought it up, but since you decided to, how about, it’s none of your business.

“Are you breastfeeding? You know it’s the best, natural, blah blah blah…” You know, that is also personal—although not as off-limits as circumcision. Yeah, I hope I will be able to breastfeed this one, although I had lots of issues with my first. And if I can’t do it, then I won’t. And he will be fine, just like she is. She has no allergies, she’s perfectly healthy, active and smart. And she is a fomula baby so stick it.

“Aren’t you glad you’re having a boy?” Uhm, actually I’m glad I’m having a healthy child.

“One of each! You’re done!” I am? Wow! Thanks for speaking for my uterus.

“Your husband must be thrilled to finally get his boy!” Thank you for the offensive, overtly-sexist assumption that because my husband has a daughter, he is not complete without a son. We would have been perfectly happy with another daughter—or ten daughters for that matter. What is the fascination with men having boys vs. girls? I was raised this way and it’s very hurtful.

I have learned a LOT throughout this pregancy and it's made me not like strangers even more than before. So if I have learned anything significant, it’s that I will not ever give a pregnant woman any unwanted or unasked-for advice. I will tread lightly. I will wish for her a healthy baby and an uncomplicated labor. I won’t ask personal questions, and I won’t let my curiosity get the best of me—after all—it’s none of my business.

99 Days Left!

WHERE has the time gone?

I am officially 6 ½ months pregnant. I have truly been enjoying all the little miracles that this pregnancy has brought me; however, I have kept them to myself as to not “showboat.”

I feel that so many people these days take their pregnancy—the blessing and curses of—and blast too many details online. I get it—most people are excited, many are pregnant for their first time…it’s just not what I want or choose to do. Unlike my usual self, I have turned inward this time around. I have nothing negative to say and even if I did, why blast that out there for everyone to see?

This is the pregnancy I never thought would happen. It’s my time, and I am trying to soak in every pound gained, every kick to the bladder, each tear of joy, every night of restless sleep and the overwhelming anticipation of what he looks like and who he will be.

Even though I am coasting along smoothly and feeling great, my prior infertility issues still haunt me. And even though, every week, I get a little more excited, until he is in my arms, I simply can’t believe this is happening.

This has been a miraculous journey for us, albeit somewhat shocking. After so many years wondering why we couldn’t have another baby, I still tend to forget that I am with child. Sometimes I find myself working or doing chores and then he kicks me and it’s then I am reminded that yes—there is a baby in there and he is healthy and flourishing.

It’s been so many years since the last time I carried a baby, it feels like the first time being pregnant. With Daisy, I was 24 years old, Rich and I had been dating for only a year, and we were the first of our group of friends to conceive. The only life-stress I really had was the fact that I was the permanent designated-driver. I complained a lot. My scoliosis acted up early on. I wasn’t working out, I didn’t feel strong. I was immature and I made foolish decisions while pregnant with my daughter—like starting a fist fight when I was six-months along—Yeah, I did that. I hated not being able to go dancing or drinking. I felt left out a lot. Even though I was excited and looking forward to starting a family, I simply was not in tune with my body or with the miracle I had been given as I am with this one. Luckily, she came out perfectly healthy and happy and has been a blessing for the past 11 ½ years. We can’t imagine our lives without her.

This little guy has endured a more mature mommy. This mommy is in tune with herself, fairly in shape due to hard work last year and fully secure in her nearly 14-year relationship and in her decisions.

But this mommy has had some real-life curveballs thrown at her early on in the pregnancy and managing real-world, adult stress has been a little overwhelming.

In January, our 10-yr old lab was diagnosed with cancer and given weeks to live. He lived for 5 months and passed away a little more than a month ago. The void in our lives is inconceivable and we are still mourning him. We haven’t even been able to move his bed or food dish.

In March, my dad was admitted to the hospital and nearly died. The night he was admitted, I hemorrhaged. I was only 12 weeks along then, and needless to say I freaked-the-fuck-out. Waking up in a pool of blood is not a good sign. But after a long night in the ER, a terribly inexperienced doctor and a 3 a.m. ultrasound with a very alert and dancing baby image, we were sent home and told that one of two things would happen: either everything is ok, or I would lose the baby. All I could do was relax and wait. That was the longest, darkest weekend of our lives so far. Luckily, we made it through and Ryan is thriving. My dad was released 2 months later and continues to get better.

We have also experienced other stresses, but like Mark Twain, I refuse to release those stories until about 100 years after my death.

Hemorrhaging taught me a LOT about pregnancy. Did you know that 30% of women experience this early on? Did you know that once I started talking about it—EVERY SINGLE WOMAN knew another woman who had this exact same thing happen to them? I was also relieved to know that some of my best friends went through this as well, and came out fine… so once again, my family and my girlfriends helped me through like always. I love my support system.

After being out of the woods, my little guy started moving—a lot. I felt him move at about 14 weeks and he hasn’t stopped since then. And now, he has a little schedule that includes the most active times from 9 a.m.-10 a.m. and 9 p.m.-10:30 p.m. every night. He has also made it extremely clear that he does not like my work chair or the way I lean in to see my computer screen. If I ever need reassurance that he is in there, I simply lean forward and I am quickly reminded that ‘No Mommy, I hate that position.’ As of last week, he has also decided that putting a small foot or hand up in my right ribcage area is fun. It’s not. Sometimes I can beat him to it by putting my hand there first, and he retreats downward—after a small battle. Over the weekend, I swear he bruised me. This has made my husband laugh. Through it all, I giggle because the life inside me is real.

I eat way better with this baby than I did with Daisy. She was my excuse to eat and then eat again. I gained a lot of weight with her, then lost some, then gained more. I have learned a lot about exercise and nutrition in the past couple years and this time, I choose to eat better. I am very proud of the fact that I have only gained 16.8 pounds in 6 months, and I am still wearing my own panties…well some of them. I am glad I kept my big-girl bras because I haven’t spent a dime on maternity undergarments yet. And so what if they are XL…I’m not in PLUS-SIZED anything yet and that is a NSV (non-scale victory) for me.

I play music for him, just as I did with Daisy. He seems to respond which makes me happy. Daisy always starts his playlist off with Justin Beiber—but when she isn’t looking, I change it to real music.

Daisy continues to ask questions and looks for assurance that we will still love her. We tell her that she will always be our favorite daughter, just as Ryan will be our favorite son.

Rich likes to rest his hand on my stomach on nights when he doesn’t have school. Last night, this baby kicked him twice...and hard. My husband's face lit up and his eyes were glassy. He simply said “I’m so happy.” And I know he is. We are.

Sometimes, we freak out a bit. Our children are 12 years apart. What the hell! But we have come to the conclusion that “this is our story.” That’s it. This is our legacy. It’s a funny story, and anyone who knows us, laughs along with us.

So, even though I am not blogging often, I’ll have you know that being pregnant this time is allowing me to enjoy each and every moment. I can’t believe that in about 3 months, he will be here. I can’t wait to see his face. I can’t wait to celebrate Christmas through a toddler’s eye again, and show him Maui and Disneyland and how magical life can be.

Until then, I am taking a break from blogging so that I can be present for each kick, roll and jab. And I am thanking a higher power that I am allowed to feel this again.

Scooby Doo-We Sure Miss You!

One of the things we always looked forward to was buying our own home so that we would be able to finally get a puppy. In 2001, we achieved both. We disagreed about how and what type of dog we would get. I was perfectly ok purchasing a purebred dog or paying an adoption fee (ahem..snob!). My hubby was hell-bent on getting a free dog. He always told me that there were plenty of free doggies out there and if we are patient, we will find The One. I reminded him that people don’t give away puppies in front of the grocery store anymore…he disagreed.

Back then, we would take frequent trips to the shelter (or as Rich says, ‘The poor man's zoo’) to view doggies. There were a few reasons for this: First, how would our then, one-year-old daughter react to them? Second, it was a cheap and fun way to kill time and play with pups. And last, maybe we would find a dog in need who would just call out to us. Rich was open to adoption, but each time we left the shelter, he would remind me that we were destined to get a free doggie.

We had been visiting shelters for about nine months when we heard about a puppy store that had confiscated dozens of purebred pups because they were sick with Parvo. This would be a win-win for us. Rescue a free purebred! YAY! We had heard that this was the weekend they were letting people adopt these expensive dogs. We happily drove out to the Sacramento SPCA….but within moments, we found out that we had picked the wrong weekend. I was pretty upset—but what could I do? COMPLAIN! And that, I did.

As we walked back to the car, me bitching the entire time, we noticed a woman in a van parked near us. She had overheard me ranting about not being able to adopt and how we drove 45 minutes for nothing. Her voice is still clear in my head:

“You all looking for a puppy? I have some here, and the shelter won’t take em'.'”

She seemed like a meth case and I almost—ALMOST—declined. But being polite, and seeing about 4 black lab puppies jumping in the box, we were compelled to at least look.

The pups were cute. They were about 12 weeks old, very hyper and undernourished. She told us that the shelter wouldn't take them because they were full and she didn't have “any money to feed em’.” Lovely.

I was sad for the pups, but they just didn't feel right. I politely told her “No thanks, we were looking for something a little younger and calmer…” as if any puppy was “calm.”

The lady then looked at her teenage daughter and said “show her the brown one!” We didn't see a brown dog. But the daughter reached into the box and pulled up a brown puppy. He was completely limp and calm. He had bright green eyes, and looked into ours. We were lovesick. I asked to hold him, and she obliged. I looked at my husband who was beaming and then I looked at this pup. He looked at me, nuzzled his nose into my arms, took two deep breaths, relaxed and closed his eyes. He was The One.

And there we were. Giddy and driving straight to Petco. Rich got his free-out-of-a-box-perfect-pooch. The puppy sat on Rich’s lap the entire 45 minute drive. He was sleeping like he belonged on his lap. And he SO did. On our way to Petco, Daisy named him Scooby Doo…because in her toddler mind, “brown dogs are named Scooby.”

We enjoyed the rest of the weekend with this little brown pup. He was very peaceful. He was extremely interested in Daisy and followed her everywhere. He didn't complain when she held him, or held him down. When she sat, he sat. If she layed down, so did he. Of course, we weren't stupid. He was a puppy. There is no way he could be so calm, so gentle, so relaxed all the time—he must be ill. We took him to the vet the next week and when he received a clean bill of health, we were shocked. This was just his disposition. He was easy. We were over the moon.

Scooby looked like a brown lab. But the vet soon informed us that he probably had Doberman in him as well. As he grew, we could see the pretty light-brown markings. That was all he got from his Dobie bloodline…except his fear and loathing of water and all things water-related. We literally spent one summer at a friend’s pool, trying to teach Scooby how to swim. He preferred to curl up on Rich’s lap, and whimper. His heart would race every time we forced him into the pool. Although he learned to swim that summer, he still hated it. To cool off, he would simply stand on the first step of the pool and cool his feet and sometimes venture to the second step to cool his chest. He was so funny about water.



One time, we took him camping at Pine Crest Lake. It was the first time he experienced separation anxiety—us being in the water, and him pacing on the beach. Within minutes of Rich and Daisy being in the water, our water-hating lab forced himself to swim out to them, lap around once and come right back. He did this the entire time, even while his buddies would fetch, swim and retrieve balls and frisbees.

This behavior would increase over the years. As our daughter grew, we began to spend a lot of time at the lake near our house. It’s always an adventure. We love being surrounded by nature and water and that summer-lake feeling. Daisy is quite a swimmer and Scooby didn't like being away from her. I wasn't even enough to keep him on the beach. If she was in the water, he would try to get out there too. Last summer, at Lake Comanche, we were all floating about 50 yards off the shore. Scooby was resting when we ventured into the water, but apparently he woke up. Out of nowhere, I hear my sister saying, “Oh Scooby! What are you doing out here?” I looked over my shoulder and here is his sweet, brown face whimpering his way out to Daisy and I. We all laughed and my brother-in-law swam him back to the shore. We moved in closer so he wouldn't worry.

Scooby hated water so much, he wouldn't drink from a dog bowl. He preferred the toilet. He even taught his dog-cousin, Sippy, to drink from the toilet as well. He did love the dog beach in Half Moon Bay, but as his cousins would run into the water, he would stop, maybe getting his feet wet. Every time we took him, someone would comment on how funny it was to see a lab who didn't like the water.

The one thing he hated more than water was cats. And, he regularly controlled the ever-growing feral cat population in our neighborhood. Aside from protecting us, this was his job, and he would be so proud of himself when he returned.

Scooby’s fierce loyalty to us was undeniable. His favorite job was to naturally take on the role of  being our daughter's shadow. And for the past ten years, that was his favorite job.


This was never more evident than when we would visit the dog park. Scooby was the Ambassador of the park. He would meet and greet every dog that came in, give them a sniff, and then go right back to tailing Daisy—no matter where she wandered. She loved to climb up to the top of the hills at the park, and up until last year, he would look for her and when he saw her, he would go running up that hill, just to be by her side. This devotion to our girl caused him to protect her at all costs. As a pup, we could take him anywhere and we did. But one day at the pet store, when he was about five-years-old, an old man said hello to us and to Daisy. He actually tried to shake Daisy’s hand, which was weird to me, but I was right there and so I didn't say anything…but Scooby did NOT like this man and leapt in between his old hand and our girl. He was just doing his job. I have to say, it was a proud moment for us, but also a little too scary to have him at the store from that point on.

Scooby worked hard for us. He always did his job. He had three barks, one for people who drove into our cul-de-sac. One for people he knew who were coming up to the door….and one for people he didn't know. He was our alarm. After the threat was gone, or the people were in the home, he would retreat to his bed, or his second favorite place—Daisy’s room.

Last year, we noticed that he was slowing down a bit. And to be expected—but you can never be prepared. Labs aren't known to live more than 10-14 years if you’re lucky. In November, I noticed some lumps under his chin. We decided to not visit the vet during the holidays. On January 3, I walked our boy up to the vet. It’s then I received the devastating news that he had Lymphoma. He was given two months to a year to live. But I Googled that shit immediately and all facts stated 3-6 months. We were beyond devastated. We were horrified.

One night, while Daisy was sleeping and Rich was at school, I had my mommy-moment with Scooby. I took his face in my hands and tearfully told him that if he was going to leave us, he had better come back as my son, because we can’t live without his sweet spirit. He is a part of us. A week later, I found out that I was pregnant…and now we know it’s a boy.

The past five months have been amazing, heartbreaking and rule-breaking. Once diagnosed, we allowed Scooby to get on the couch, eat steaks, sleep on Daisy’s bed and do anything else he wanted to do…except eat kittens….although one friend offered to provide a litter for us at no cost.

Last week, Scooby’s eyes started to show signs of blindness. He was struggling for air at night, and refused to eat. We could tell he was nearing the end and not comfortable at all.

Wednesday night, while we were eating dinner, Rich notified us that it was, indeed, “time.” We tearfully cleared off the dinner table and floated around the rest of the evening, petting Scooby and trying to prepare ourselves for the next day.

One thing Rich and I knew for sure is that we didn't want to take him to a vet. Since he was a puppy, he hated going to the vet. It scared him every time. As soon as we would pull up to the parking lot, he would shake uncontrollably. This is NOT how we wanted his last memory. Instead, we opted for an in-home procedure that I heard about on the Rob, Arnie and Dawn radio show. I contacted Rob and didn’t expect to hear back. But within hours, he emailed me a referral for a vet that he has used in the past, Dr. Jyl's Mobile Vet Connection. He also comforted us with encouragement and said we were doing the right thing for wanting his final moments to be pleasant ones. Unfortunately, Dr. Jyl was unable to accommodate our time, and so we found and used Dr. Linda’s Goodbye at Home service.

The following morning, our home was filled with the smell of steak. Rich had cooked up a meal for our king, and he ate it, albeit slowly. We all spent time in a zombie-like state until Dr. Linda’s truck pulled into the driveway. That’s when we lost it, completely.

Scooby wasn't upset to see her. In fact, he barely barked. If you knew Scooby, you’ll know that this is RARE. Dr. Linda walked into our home and immediately got on her knees and loved on our boy. He was accepting and loving and happy to see a new guest in the house.

After a few minutes with him, he looked up at us and then walked over to his bed and lied down. It’s like he knew it was time. She gave us our space as the three of us gathered around our boy and pet him and loved on him and kissed him as the sedative gently put him into a deep sleep. The time spent with him was soothing, sweet and happy/sad. We thanked him and told him he was a good boy. That was his last memory. Then we let her give the last injection until his heart stopped.

This is truly been one of the most difficult things we have ever faced. To say Dr. Linda was WONDERFUL is an understatement. We will never regret saying goodbye to him the way we did.

The rest of our day was spent together, talking, crying, laughing, shopping, eating ice cream and napping. We decided as a family to not answer the phone. I posted pics and an update to our Facebook page. The outpouring of love and well-wishes was overwhelming and very much needed. Throughout the day, we were comforted by the sweet words, emails and texts. We could feel the love and we thank you all.

It’s weird without him. I think the hardest part is not being greeted at the door when we get home. The silence in our home is so loud. But we can feel him in our home still. At night, we can hear him tip-toe on the tile. And we all swear we heard him enter Daisy’s room in the middle of the night over the weekend. It was a nice reminder that he is still here.

It’s only been five days, but we know we will end up getting another dog, it’s just who we are. We are a dog-family. But we will always miss our sweet brown boy. The cats in the neighborhood, will not.

Secondary Infertility and Me

April 25-29 is National Infertility Week. And I’m going to talk about infertility. And this might be uncomfortable for some, but I don’t care. It’s real. For the past 10 or so years, it was my reality. And to date, I know some lovely ladies in my life are still struggling.

I read a story on the Today show about releasing the silence on this powerful subject. Tears streamed down my face as I listened to several women discuss their monthly disappointment. It’s been 5 months since I relived that same disappointment, and for 10 years, I experienced it about the 17th of every month.

When I was 24 and had our daughter, I simply assumed that obviously we were both fine and if and when we ever wanted to give her a sibling—we could and would. Careers took off and the years flew by and we tried and tried-never once using protection. My husband always said it was God’s Will if we were to be parents again.

I bought into that until our daughter was about six. Then, it started to worry me.

Through the years, I would go through periods of depression thinking something was wrong with me. I was counting days—my period was considered normal, and still I wasn’t conceiving.

I blamed it on my weight. I blamed it on his sperm count that he refused to get checked. I blamed it on God. I also thanked God that at least we had one, beautiful healthy daughter. I struggled between guilt for wanting and sadness for needing.

Friends and family members seemed to get pregnant every time they sneezed. It hurt to see baby shower invitations, and it pained me when any of them would offer their suggestions about adoption. Yeah, duh, I know the options out there, believe me…but I want to feel that baby inside me and it’s natural to want—or need—to feel that way.

There is a silent struggle with secondary infertility and everyone seemed to have an opinion. Here are some things people would say:

“You just have one kid? Are you going to have more??” –It’s none of your business.

“At least you have one.” –True, but I want, need, desire, long for more.
“You can always adopt.” –Really? Tell me more because I haven’t ever heard or considered this as an option….

“My friend’s friend got pregnant when they stopped trying—maybe you should stop trying.” –Fuck off.

“Can I have my baby shower at your house?”—Nope. Because when you leave with all your baby stuff and your perfect belly, I am left to clean up the reminders of what I will never have again. It’s not you, it’s me. Sorry.

“An only child is a lonely child.” – Gee, thanks. Cue tears.

The thing is, these people were not trying to hurt me—well maybe the last one was—but most didn’t know what to say or how to say it and some of them had no idea of the pain I was in, so it’s not entirely their fault.

I just had to remind myself that we are good people, and this is life and sometimes unfortunate things just happen to good people.

During the past couple of years, I just resorted to telling people we were infertile. I mean, after 13 years with one partner, no protection, and only 1 pregnancy—why would I think otherwise? It was easier than explaining that we are still trying and have no fucking clue as to why it’s not working and we are too scared to go see a doctor about it.

That worked for a while but it didn’t take away the monthly reminder that no, I was not pregnant. The tears, the depression, the why’s, what’s wrong with me days…and weeks.

The thing that sucks about infertility is that there is nothing you can say that will make us feel better. Family, friends, coworkers, you are in a permanent limbo as we live in our own hell. But you can educate yourself.

Here are some misconceptions:

We are not depressed every day. But some days, we can barely get out of bed.

We love you and when you get pregnant, we are genuinely happy for you—seriously we are (some more than others). But we will have days of jealousy, and we can’t deny that.

We might not come to your baby shower. It’ s not you—it’s us. Try to not take it personal.

You can’t console us unless you know. You really, truly know, so don’t try. Just be open, listen, educate yourself.

And now that I am magically pregnant again, my memory of struggling with infertility is still raw and sometimes it’s hard to believe that I am actually carrying a child. It’s hard to get excited. I’m scared something will go wrong. I don’t understand why now—why me—when I know other deserving couples who haven never conceived. I can’t help but think this should be their time. I feel guilty. But I also feel blessed.

So as I cautiously carry this baby and pray for a healthy one, I want those who struggle to know:

I remember

I hear you

I have hope for you

It’s ok if you don’t attend my baby shower

And for those of you who can’t comprehend the thought of infertility, or secondary infertility, how about this: It’s none of your business why someone has ONE or NO children. Mind your manners and try to keep your questions to yourself, because even if most people will gladly talk about their decision to not have more, once in a while, you’re going to just open a wound and poor salt on it, unknowingly—because sometimes unfortunate things happen to good people, remember?

For more information on how you can help a loved one struggling with infertility or secondary infertility, visit:
http://www.resolve.org/
or
http://www.savvyauntie.com/

SURPRISE!

Wishful Thinking


They say to be careful what you wish for. My friend says to be clear when you wish for it. She was clear and concise, and during the past year, we have seen her achieve her wishes on so many levels and completely redirect the course of her life.

And maybe I subscribed to this way of thinking years ago, but in the day-to-day happenings in life, I had forgotten to use this meditation to direct my own life.

I used to use positive thinking often.

It worked right before I met my husband. I wrote out everything I wanted in a man, and I wrapped it around a rose quartz and I slept near it for weeks. Within a couple of months, I had met the love of my life.

It worked when he told me that he had goals. He was 26 and he told me that he would be married, have a child and own a home before he was 30 years old. He did it. We did it.

It worked when I wished that we would have a perfect baby. We did.

But it didn’t work when we wanted another baby. In fact, it backfired. Struggling with secondary infertility is something we did in silence. Undiagnosed, this is the year that we were to find out medically, why.

At times, we were content with just having our daughter, and we have been in that mindset for years. Although at times, as others in our lives have had babies, it has brought up some deep emotions….perhaps I wasn’t phrasing the question correctly?

I use to say “Yeah, I’d love to have another kid, but obviously we can’t.” I even resorted to just telling people we were infertile.

Last year, we started discussing fostering a child this year. We were both starting to discuss the age we would like, and the gender and how it would all work out. We had come to a peaceful acceptance that another biological child wasn’t in our future. But we were open for more children in our lives. So I started envisioning a child. A happy, healthy child in our home. I started shopping for furniture for this child, because in order to foster, you must provide certain pieces of furniture. At night, I would picture that child, happy and safe in our home.

But that’s not truly what I envisioned. I saw a baby. A healthy and happy baby. And when my dog was diagnosed with terminal cancer, I held his head in my hands and tearfully told him that if he is going to leave us, he better come back as my son.

Careful what you wish for....I am pregnant.

Rich always just told me that God had a plan and if it’s meant to be, then it will be. Well God has a sense of humor, because assuming all goes well, our children will be 12 years apart.

I am thrilled, scared, nervous, happy, tickled and sick. But, I keep repeating this mantra -- STRONG-HEALTHY.

It’s been an interesting few weeks into the New Year, and if all goes well, I think it might be our second-best year of our lives.

I am not technically naming the child after our dog, but "Scooby" could be a middle name, right?

Stay tuned.

Our Last Christmas with Santa

The conversation was brief and innocent yet solemn.

“Mom, kids at school are saying there is no Santa and it’s actually your parents who give you gifts-is that true?”

My heart stung with that sharp heat—unlike a roller coaster—more like “Ahhhh Maaaan!”

I don’t want to lie to her. But I am not ready to be the bearer of bad news. I chose my words carefully.

“Well honey, what do you believe?”

“I told them they were wrong because there is no way my parents could eat as many cookies as I leave out.”

And there it was. She still believes, but not for long.

I didn’t think I would be sad about this, but I totally am. I am going to miss dazzling my daughter with the Christmas Spirit that we don her with each and every year.

I will miss separating gifts and hiding them in the attic. I will miss buying the different Christmas paper (Santa has special wrapping paper—the kind that sparkles and costs $7 a roll). I will miss writing in different handwriting—Calligraphy or script—because after all, he is so magical that his penmanship must match. I will miss the awe in her eyes as she runs into the living room to see that Santa has left her stocking on the couch, overflowing with trinkets like fart-sounding gels, nail polish and gum. I’m even going to miss waiting until she falls asleep so that we can begin to transform our living room into a place where Santa surely had fun.

Most of this staging happened 10 minutes before we left to see the family on Christmas Eve each year. We would put her in the car and then say we forgot something and run back into the house. I always wondered if she would ever catch on that every single year, both of us would forget something so important that we would both have to leave her for a few minutes. While inside, we would quickly rearrange the living room so that when we returned home at 1 or 2 am, if she was awake, she could tell he had been here.

I will miss leaving crumbs from the cookies and a ring of milk on the table, throwing away the reindeer food and covering up the mess in the garbage can as to ensure no evidence was left behind. I will miss writing a thank-you note to her, and answering any questions she had left me…I mean Santa.

No one ever told me how sad this would be. So, for those of you who have small children, enjoy these moments. Take lots of pictures. Take them to have their pictures taken with him at the mall. Take it all in and feel the magic in their sweet spirits. From the little feet in footsie pajamas to the warm smiles and uncontrollable giggles, a genuine indication of their belief in Santa Claus. I will miss these times and look forward to setting the stage for our grandchildren…in 20 or more years.

So this year, I will make it her best ever. If I have to climb on the rooftop or jingle some bells outside her room, so be it. For I know, this is it. Our last Christmas with a child who believes in Santa Claus.

I shouldn’t end on this. It’s too sad.

Although I think I could, I am not crying. I am actually thankful and grateful that the true meaning of Christmas will not be left behind just because she won’t believe in Santa. I am merely going to miss the things we do for the little ones who believe.

We will still bake cookies and go shopping. We will still donate toys and clothes to those less fortunate than us. We will still drive around town to admire the light displays. And most of all, we will thank the Universe that we have this day to celebrate and be warm and full with an abundance of love and the glory of this thing called life.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

Happy Food Poisoning Day

Thanksgiving brings up several memories for me. At the time, they weren’t so funny… but today, I can laugh and now you can too. You’re welcome.

In 2000, we finally moved into a home of our own. My husband’s family visited for Thanksgiving. I was a new wife and mom and the thought of cooking for all 20+ of them made me excited, nervous and grateful for Martha Stewart’s magazine.

I had never cooked a turkey before, nor had I cooked a pie from scratch. But with my mother and father in law coming to town with their spouses (yep, they all get along), all seven brother-in-laws and two sisters-in-law plus my baby niece, I was determined to make the best-tasting Thanksgiving dinner with the most variety in hopes to appease the masses.

I should have known that I was overdoing it when my adorable groom said, “This is stupid, my family doesn’t need anything fancy. They are going to eat, chill, eat and leave.”

Pfffffffffttttt……whatever!

The trip to the grocery store was hilarious at best. My hubby stayed home with our baby girl and let me take the reins. After I came home—with $350 in groceries—he never let me shop for the big meals, or any meals, again.

I gladly engaged in an argument over money. You see, I bought a Martha Stewart Magazine earlier in the week. I wrote out all the ingredients for the turkey and the 5 pies that I was going to bake plus all the sides. Not being remotely familiar with any of the spices, creams, broths or this thing called bullion, I had to buy all new stuff. So yeah, it was expensive. "But baby—it will be sooooo worth it!”

Next, we thawed the 25-lb bird. Now, most people have to keep their dog away from the bird. We didn’t have this problem. We only had a cat. Who hated water. But in the middle of the night, he decided to swim into the sink—numerous times—to retrieve the neck and the bag of gizzards and liver. We woke up at about 6 a.m. to a sick cat, half a turkey neck and baggie of organs strewn throughout the kitchen. This too should have been a sign….but I didn’t listen.

Cooking began at 7 a.m. and ended with a wonderful meal. Turkey, all the fixens’, five pies…it all turned out great! I was thrilled….afterwards, my husband commented how delicious it was—ha ha! I did it! Albeit $350 lighter, we were happy….until 3:00 a.m.

I woke up to hearing a sound that I cannot define in words. My groom was in the guest bathroom—as to not awake me—how sweet. Now, I can’t tell if he was crying, and he would never admit it, but I can tell you that he was moaning in agony in between loud bouts of explosive diarrhea and excessive amounts of vomit.

My poor baby had the flu….or did he?

About an hour went by with no reprieve. I felt so sad that he was coming down with something. Come to think of it, I wasn’t feeling that well either. I was a bit gassy, but that was it. My stomach ached a little. I probably just ate too much…right?

He was ill for about four hours. Then, he slept. The entire next day, he stayed on the couch and made frequent trips to the throne. I still had a little tummy ache, but nothing too bad. I might have even left to go shopping!

About two days went by and my man had bounced back from that bug. Then the phone rang. He answered. And this is what I heard:

“Hello…what? Really? Who? Everyone? Me too!” And with this he glared at me…”Was she admitted? Is she ok? Mom too? Holy Shit…who else? Have you talked to Dad? No one? Then it couldn’t have been the turkey. Are you better? Is she home? I’ll call her. Sorry bro.”

What ensued after was one of the worst feelings I have ever felt. In my attempt to be like Martha, I unintentionally gave half of my husband’s family food poisoning. In fact, my baby niece, sister in-law and mother in-law had to get IVs at the hospital to rehydrate them.

His father’s side didn’t get sick at all.

We traced it back to that chocolate crème pie. The one with whipping cream. The one that stayed on the counter, above the dishwasher, while I did at least 3 loads of dishes that day. The one that his father’s side didn’t sample (lucky bastards). The one that his mother’s side inhaled. And they all got violently ill. Thankfully, my baby didn’t get sick, but my baby niece was very ill.

I have never lived this down. Although it has gotten me out of cooking for the past decade, I still feel bad every thanksgiving when I think about it.

The funny thing is……They came back 30 days later for Christmas…and I fucked up again. But you’ll have to wait to hear that. It will be a great Christmas Eve story.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

I'mmmm baaaackkkkk

I’m back. And in full swing of things again. It’s been 9 weeks since we returned from our vacation. In that time, we bought a new car (boooo! for car payments), I turned 36, Rich started school, my job became increasingly busy, I took a month off of doing comedy shows, the Giants won the World Series and blogging has taken a much deserved back seat, but so have my workouts.

There is one thing I have learned in the past 9 weeks—if I am not blogging, I am not logging.....miles that is.

So about a week ago, I was talking about going to the gym and my daughter overheard me. She was super excited. Even when I came home and was too tired to get my shoes on. She egged me on to go. I even got a little bit irritated because I felt that she was “guilting” me into going…but that wasn’t true. She needed this just as much as I did. So, we went. I explained to her that I didn’t want to go, but afterwards, I knew I would thank her. And I did.

The next day, I scoped out a new 5k run and I started running again. And I almost cried. It’s harder than it was 9 weeks ago, but I still killed a mile in 12 minutes. I pushed myself to do that. I was very sore the next day, but I love that feeling.

Running is a reminder that time happens at the speed of life and in that time, I can choose to run and clear my mind, cleanse my body and open my heart, or I could just as easily become a recluse, gain my weight back and project anger for things that are out of my control.

There are many things out of my control right now, and I must surrender them. I can't choose the outcomes. I can't change anyone's mind. But I can chose to run.

Running has given me strength, both physically and mentally. I like the endorphins in my brain after a hard run. I feel high, and things are clear. Life seems manageable. Problems that I dwelled on earlier diminish. And I get to spend real quality time with my daughter. Plus, I feel like a size 6 and avoid mirrors so that my energy stays elevated.

And so I run. And she works out in her part of the gym. And our sweaty faces greet each other as she takes the last of my water bottle, which I have secretly saved just for her. And we hold hands and walk out of the gym into the crisp air and a stunning sunset. And then we chat.

I cherish our conversations on the way home from the gym. Out hearts continue to pound from the exercise and our excited words flow freely—without judgment, with a clear mind. I am more present for her than I ever am and she opens up and talks as if she knows this is the safest environment she will ever have. With daddy at school, our conversations continue at home and into the evening while we listen to music, fold laundry and play games or light candles.

So, the other night, we spoke about religion. This blog will have to be continued so that I can properly present my words because I was raised right. I don’t talk about politics, religion or sex in public. But this is my blog and I can do what I want to….so stay tuned!

To be continued…..

Maui on One Income





Looking at us, we have no business going to Maui. We are on one income. We are struggling. The past five years have been financially devastating…but in times of despair, you lean on the only thing you truly have. Each Other. And when you have nothing, and your back is against the wall, you talk and you dream and you tell each other ALLLLLL the things we shoulda, woulda, coulda done back in the days when we were making MONEY. But we didn’t do those things because we didn’t have THIS frame of mind. And this frame of mind sadly only appears when you are at rock bottom. So while we were kicking rocks and occasionally throwing them, we said “Fuck it-we are going to Maui.” 

View from the plane

This was to be our first vacation. Ever. I mean, growing up, our parents took us to Disneyland a couple times and we had 3-day weekend camping trips here and there, but a full-fledged vacation-nope. We wanted to do it right. So, we talked to everyone we possibly could. We asked friends and Facebook. I spent months scanning the Internet for the best deals and now I want to share our findings with you.

How to Save

First, we opened a vacation savings account at a new credit union where we don’t conduct our daily banking and we set up a direct payroll deduction so that we didn’t even miss the funds. We chose $80 per paycheck. What is $80? About ONE meal out. Think about it, usually, I get paid and we go out at least two or three times in between pay periods. So, by banking $160 per month over the course of 24 months, we were able to save $3,840 to pay for the trip. Of course, we also put in additional windfalls (1/2 of my comedy money, any gifted funds, etc.) and at the end of 2 years, we had just under $5,000. It was thoughtless and it added up QUICK.

Our first sunset

So with $5k in the vacation fund, and the Internet at our fingertips, we budgeted for the trip. That money needed to include activities, adventures, incidentals (like when they say the rental car is $260 and it’s really $460) and food for a full seven days. And it can go by FAST.

So, yeah, I totally thought it would be easier to just book a complete package through Expedia. I mean, air, hotel, and rental car is advertised for $750 per person – but once you select the room, there are additional charges for a room that sleeps 3, or a king-size bed or a kitchen. And then they add other costs. The ads are very misleading, and when you’re on a strict budget, there is no room for misleading. After almost booking a package that started out at the advertised price of $758 per person, the ultimate price with taxes was $900 per person. FAIL.

So, we decided to research on our own and we found way better discounts.

Airlines
Budget: $600 per person RT
Actual: $412 per person - WIN!

Tip: Check rates DAILY

 

Hawaiian Airlines would be the obvious choice to fly, right? Wrong. Although their site is super easy to use and shows an amazing calendar to choose your dates from, including showing the prices so you can make a budget-savvvy decision—none of their flights fly directly into Maui. In fact, ALL of their flights have a small layover in Honolulu and then you take a much smaller plane to the island. Me-Small plane? Pffft….Forget it. I’d rather pay $50 more per person and have no layovers.

Airport
Airport Budget: $40
Actual Cost: $80
Tip: Get a ride to the airport-and borrow Xanax.

Our good friend dropped us off, stayed at our house and picked us up. This saved us about $70 in airport parking and she cleaned my house while I was gone….SCORE! It was a long trip. I hate flying. In fact this was the longest flight I have ever been on. Thankfully, my Xanax was free. I have great friends.

Now, we would have stayed at $40 if the stupid airlines had a movie. And of course, it’s all people told me for two years “Don't worry - it goes by so fast, it’s two movies and then you’re there!” But Alaskan doesn’t show movies on a large screen. They make you rent one of those little portable players for $12. And when mom wants to watch Walk The Line, but the kid wants to watch Beverly Hills Chihuahua, well you rack up the costs pretty fast.

Rental Car
Budget: $260 for the week
Actual Cost: $460
Tip: Size Matters


Even though many places advertised about $150-$175 per week—don’t be fooled. I researched every single agency and found that after absurd Hawaii taxes, you’re still going to be stuck at about $265 for the week-not including insurance which you definitely need. And that is where they get you. At $16 per day for insurance, you just added $128 pretax. But, everything I read said that rental cars are prime targets for theft in Hawaii. Ultimately, we ended up with Enterprise because I trust them and have had great experiences in the past. And, they will accept debit cards if you have an itinerary showing your return flight. After all was said and done-we got a tiny Chevy Cobalt and it was perfect for the three of us for the week.

Groceries
Grocery Budget: $100 for the week
Actual Cost: $165-$200
Tip: Only buy what you need-plan meals ahead & stop at the fruit stands

We stopped at Safeway in Lahaina and purchased breakfasts, snacks and lunches and paid $165. Ouch! Then we stopped at a fruit stand and bought the most delicious pineapple, apple bananas, mangos and papayas, and spent like, $10. WIN! We did end up throwing out some food and beverages. And, we needed to make an extra trip to the grocery store for water during the week. You will go through a LOT of water. And momma don’t do tap water.

Costco Cash Card-we were going to do this, and I recommend it for larger families, but for the three of us, we opted for Safeway. However, after spending $7 on a gallon of milk (I exaggerate, it was $6.50) –perhaps next time we will choose Costco. You must be a Costco member to purchase or reload Costco Cash Cards but Members and non-members may use the cash cards to shop in the warehouse or online.

Our patio, each day we woke up to this...

The Condo
Budget: $125 per night
Actual Cost: $111 per night
Tip: http://www.vrbo.com/
A friend of mine (Sam Bam!) who visits Maui often gave me this link. At first, I was skeptical, but after hours of researching Expedia, Travelocity, Priceline, Hotels.com and others, this ended up being a GREAT choice. This is the condo we settled on at Valley Isle Resort and we were THRILLED. It’s a quiet resort in Kahana between Kaanapali and Napili and just minutes from our favorite hang out, Lahania.

Condo: http://www.hailtecmaui.com/

Contact: Judi and Ralph Harvey 254-836-1699 (tell them we sent ya!)

Our beautiful daughter

Yeah, it’s not the Marriot, and it doesn’t have waterslides, but it has the necessities. Things to consider: Laundry services? Free Parking? Full Kichen? Internet? Beach chairs? A cooler? You WILL pay for all of those amenities elsewhere. With taxes = $777.00 for the week. Look at that the view—you can’t beat that! And you can’t put a price on falling asleep to the sounds of crashing waves.





Gifts/Merch

Our Hand Carved Tiki: "Luck, love and protection for the family"



Budget: $200

Actual: $200+

Tip: Don’t buy for everyone

We actually spent a little over $200 on stuff but bought mostly for us. I guess you just have to be selfish about this one. If we bought stuff for everyone in the family, or even just the kids (we have ELEVEN nieces and nephews) well we would be broke. So, we wanted to get things that reminded us of this time together and so we did.



Aloha Mixed Plate



Dining Out

Budget: $700

Actual Cost: $600-something

TIP: EAT AT ALOHA MIXED PLATE!

Eating out in Maui is FUN. Our plan was simple: Make breakfast, pack lunches and eat dinner out every night BUT only dine at places we couldn’t get at home. This was interesting when it came to my caffeine addiction because Starbucks is prominent there, but our room had a coffee maker and Maui Kona blend was provided so I was ok. We opted for authentic Hawaiian food and were a little bummed when we found the best restaurant ever on the last night we were there. It’s called Aloha Mixed Plate and it’s incredible. My hubby keeps talking about the beef over rice with an egg and drowning in gravy plate that he consumed. The gravy was the best I have ever had. We highly recommend it. Sushi is a family favorite, but not a lot of luck. We went to Napili and ate at Sansei Seafood Restaurant & Sushi Bar, but it was just ok. We sure missed Mikuni. We did break our own rule once and took Daisy to The Melting Pot for dessert. It was a special night.

We didn't drink too much because we had the little one with us, but the alcohol can add a lot to the bill. However, a Mai Tai never tasted better.

Best Breakfast-The Gazebo

Big thanks to our friends Heidi and Damien for telling us “You will stand in line for an hour-but it’s worth it.” At first, I was like, Yeah, NO pancakes are worth a one-hour wait. But we did it. And oh yeah, I’d do it again. And so would a lot of others...read reviews here. This place has the BEST PANCAKES EVER. Try the White Chocolate chip, pineapple and the Macadamia nut…and don’t forget that white syrup on the table, it’s coconut! The Gazebo is located on the grounds of Napili Shores resort at 5315 Lower Honoapiilani Rd. You will be happy you waited.

Total Cost 

Flight $1220

Airport Costs $80
Room $777
Rental Car $460
Snorkel Gear $75
Dining out $650
Entertainment $400
Groceries $200
Gas $30

Gifts $200

Misc $300
Grand Total $4392

 What is Misc? Oh, the crap you don't think about. Parking at places, tips, knick knacks, more sunscreen, souvenirs, snacks while out, buying photos and video at the events we were at –totally worth it—and other little incidentals; like when my pedicure was wiped off in the salt water on day 1 and I had to buy and reapply my nail polish….shit like that.

Left Over: $608 which coincidentally was almost exactly what it cost to fix one of our cars that decided to break down the week before we left. That's a Whole. Nutha. Blog.

Our Favorites

Best weather advice


I used Maui Weather Today religiously and it was on par with the daily happenings in Maui. Don’t use the big new sites or you’ll think it’s raining every day. There are no bad days in Maui.

Best place to book adventures

SO many places offer discounts, but few offer discounts and details that Adventure Maui offers. We booked the Four Winds Tour ($79 for adults, $49 for kids). They called us within a few hours to go over the reservation and to see if we needed anything else. They were so nice that I would definitely use them again!

Glass Bottom of The Four Winds



Deep Discounts at “Tourist Information Booths”

Now, once we actually got there, we noticed several “tourist information” booths in downtown Lahaina. We went to one to inquire about a fishing adventure for my hubby. Well, come to find out—they are all Time Share ploys. HOWEVER- After talking to the guy for a long time, we decided the discounts would be well worth two hours of our time, so we opted in for a presentation and saved $198 on adventures….we saw the Royal Lahaina Luau for $9 total and my man’s fishing trip was discounted about $20. This was worth it. And, if we would have waited and booked our Molokini crater trip, we would have saved another $75.

Here is how you say NO to time shares…
After you say “no” 64 times…they bring in a closer. I sent my kid for some water, took the salesman’s hand and said “Look, I am sick, and she doesn’t know, so we did this to get the discounts and take her on some amazing adventures-catch my drift?” Then she was back with the water, “Here mommy!” and we were on our way to book a fishing trip for daddy. Am I going to hell? Maybe. But I am certain that I will see every sleazy sales person there too, including time share folks. 

The Road to Hana


Yeah, I am glad we saw it, because we now share the I’m-so-frustrated-that-I-spent-one-entire-day-looking-at-some-points-of-interest-when-I-coulda-been-snorkeling-or-parasailing look with others who have traveled the same long ass road. And no, we didn’t turn around, we drove on the cliff, on the side of a volcano and if I wasn’t driving, I think I would have puked and stabbed myelf so that I never had to do it again.….but it was a little fun. We created great memories, but we also spent 10.5 hours on the road.





The Beaches

They look so amazing, you just want to stop off and go snorkeling, and we did--and you should too. But a word to the wise (which didn’t include me) don’t park on the sand. We got stuck and in order to get my car out, I got felt up by a nice, but weird old local. Totally worth it.



Rent these and keep them in your trunk.



We did venture up to Kihei and Wailea one day, but the winds kick in early and the waves get to be too big. The other side (where we stayed) is blocked by that wind for the most part and you can enjoy snorkeling from sun up to sun down.



Best Snorkeling Rental

Get your snorkel gear ($25 per person for the week at Boss Frogs Dive and Surf, across the parking lot from our condo) and put all the gear plus a few towels in your trunk! You will be stopping to snorkel often! Load up on extra de-fogger though, because you'll go through it quick.







Napili Bay



Our Favorite Snorkeling Spots

Kapula Bay – if you can find it-you will come back for more. It’s the bomb and right up the street from the condo. My favorite place!

Napili Bay – lots of turtles, beautiful beaches with quiet coves.

Black Rock – at the Sheridan. Plus, after you can swim in their pool. Well you aren’t supposed to, but Daisy & I wanted to try out the lazy river, and so we did.

Molokini Crater – a boat ride into the middle of the ocean, a volcano awaits with the most amazing blue water and fish who aren’t scared of you. We took the Four Winds boat and we loved it!





Richie caught a lot of fish...no crabs!

Fishing Adventure – just let the guys be guys. He had a blast and caught a bunch of fish and he was so happy. When we went to pick him up, we got to see stingrays come and eat the fish heads (the guys & prep your fish for you).

Packing
I packed for 7 days. I wore a bathing suit and sundress every day. Next time—all I need is 5 suits, 3 sundresses and 1 evening outfit. Save the room in your suitcase for beach towels—you’ll go through them.

~~~~~~






I could go on and on about all of the cool places we found, the breathtaking sunrises and sunsets and the smell of plumeria throughout the entire island....but you have to be there to truly appreciate it all. Before our trip, I would see SUVs on the road with the little turtle stickers, or a hibiscus or Maui sticker and I just thought to myself "Yeah, right. Show offs." But now when we see those stickers, we think "ahhhh, niiiice....can't wait to return."

If we can do it, anyone can. One thing we brought back was the understanding of what it means to “practice Aloha.” We can’t wait to get back to that island.