Anchormom

   Barkley & Me is my own peronal, very 3-D version of the hit movie "Marley & Me" based on the books chronicling life with an out of control puppy.  Only mine, is a big bruiser named "Barkley"...after Sir Charles himself.  (NBA legend and often entertaining sideshow in his own right).

   Our Burnese Mountain Dog is now 4 months old, with paws the size of hamburger patties.  His father was 145 pounds and if he's as naughty as his namesake or "Marley" I could be in some serious physical danger, or at the very least named the defendant in a colorful lawsuit no doubt related to some kind of property damage.  That being said, I went into this with my eyes wide open...knowing full well adding another beast to my already zoo-like atmosphere would mean a breakdown is imminent.  But what do you do, when year after year your child writes Santa for a puppy of his own?   Apparently, you get the biggest dog possible.

   As for how we selected this imposing figure, we ran into a pair of Burnese Mountain dogs this summer in Telluride, Colorado, one of our favorite places on the planet.  They were wrestling on the sidewalk, which we of course, we found completely relatable.    Their owner said they're awesome with kids, and generally, big mellow dogs.  We've yet to experience the latter half of that personality trait.  He is, much like my children were as toddlers, a pinball...  bouncing from one thing to the next, only his razor-sharp teeth make it less charming.

   So, we're off to charm school starting November 7th.  We've had a few private lessons already,  just so I can get this horse to the vet from time to time. We're doing daily walks on the leash and he can sit and lay down on command.  That lasts about 3 seconds, and then he's back to using my kids as chew toys.

   I'll keep you posted on how puppy class goes.  Now, if I can just find a trainer for the rest of family....

   I recently did my first overnight reporting gig for Fox 5 and it landed me in the heart of Hollywood for the Season Finale of "So You Think You Can Dance."  (Our exclusive interivew with winner Jineane seen in photograph to the right). For a former dance major, this was a great assignment.  But with these work opportunities, always comes a healthy helping of "mommy guilt" to go with it, you know, for being away.  I have to say though, I've made progress in this department.  (Big statement for a child raised in an Irish Catholic family.)

   Since my return to television after an 8 month hiatus, I learned a lot about who I really am. Not who I think I'm supposed to be.  Maybe other Moms out there have had similar experiences.  It's like the great debate that happens during every maternity leave.  "Should I stay home or go back to work?"  And, I've always told all my friends and my little sister the same thing:  "You won't know until you live it."  There's no way of knowing how you'll really feel until you walk the walk.  You'll either learn, you can't bear to be away from your child, or like I did, you're a better Mom when you work outside the home.  Which brings me back to "Hollyweird".

   It was truly fun to be unfettered and in the "foxhole" so to speak once again, reporting out in the field.  I had a great photographer Chad Voisen for good camaraderie and collaboration (photo below).  And, I was actually proud of myself that "I still had it"...because make no mistake, though they represent different challenges and skill sets, field reporting is much more taxing physically.  And, this old broad could still do it!  (Though it took a few days to recover...friend and colleague Susan Lennon laughed about that fact pretty hard with me.)

   So, the next time YOU have a chance to dust off your wings and spread them a bit...trust me, the stretch feels pretty darn good.  Just remember, if you're my age...there's a good chance you might pull a muscle. LOL

  Stay tuned, if you're a "So You Think You Can Dance" fan....my one on one with San Diegan and judge Mary Murphy...coming in November.

   Well, once again I'm apologizing for falling out of the blogosphere.  But since the last time I blogged, we've launched a new newscast at 6pm, a dear friend was diagnosed with breast cancer, the kids returned to school with all the activities, homework and field trips that go with it.  In other words, "life" happened.

   So here I am, back in familiar territory, recalibrating my life yet again, prioritizing what's truly important and what can wait.  Obviously, family and friends don't fall into that last category, nor do my anchoring/reporting assigments, so that leaves the blog.  And to be totally honest, when life is throwing a lot at you at once, creativity and inspiration are hard to come by...so if you're reading this, trust me, you were a lot better off.

   Anyways, I am slowly figuring out how to manage the new workflow, my family "cruise director" duties, and be a "present" friend.  I even have a little leftover "for me" at the end of the day.  Okay, maybe that last part was pushing it, but then again, I'm a work in progress.

   Thanks for your patience...and stay tuned for my next broadcast.  wink, wink.

   As you may have noticed, there's been a slight intermission between blogs.  I apologize for falling off the blogg'n wagon, but it simply couldn't be helped.  I had a health scare that sidelined me from being able to focus on anything more than my life.  And, I mean my actual "life". 

   This entry is a departure from my normal thoughts on motherhood, but I decided to share my recent experience in hopes that someone out there who's feeling badly about themselves, their thighs or their less than stellar career, can self-correct, like my ordeal forced me to do in an instant.

   A few weeks ago, my annual mammogram revealed an abnormality.  I returned to the Polster Breast Care Center in La Jolla for another look.  The second mammogram confirmed it.  A breast ultra sound followed, which revealed two cysts.  I was then scheduled to have them "drained" and biopsied.  That appointment uncovered yet another spot.  Needless to say, these appointments, the nerve racking waits for results and the uncertainty, changed my life in a hurry.  And, I am so glad to report my prognosis is good.  Not only were they all benign, but they may have been exactly what the doctor ordered for my psyche.

  As I sat, sitting in a virtual paper towel, during one of my last appointments, I promised God that if I was okay, I would stop all the nonsense of putting myself down.  I have spent a lifetime feeling too fat, too dumb or too ugly or something to that effect.  You know, what every woman feels when she looks in the mirror (especially during bathing suit season.)  And, right then and there, I decided to cut the crap and be grateful for the healthy body I've been given. 

   And you know what?  For the first time in 40 years, I haven't put myself down ONCE.... in three weeks.  I've never been prouder, happier or lighter.

   My hope for you...try it and you just might like it, and believe it or not...yourself too.

   If any of you working parents out there feel like you're barely making it, when it comes to keeping up with your kids  homework, event dates or deadlines...you know exactly what I'm talking about when I say:  "I'm ALWAYS sliding into home."  That's what I call my attempt to meet all these calendar dates (with at least some shred of dignity and air of organization). 

   Once again, this weekend I will be trying to create the illusion that I was "on top of things the whole time" by scrapbooking a years' worth of my daughter's life!  Getting it in, as usual,  just under the wire.

  It just so happens this morning, after their end-of-the-year play (my kids are in year-round school), the teacher kindly stated she didn't ask for their scrapbooks, so parents didn't feel pressure to finish them by today.  Under my breath I said "Or start them...." 

   So....in order to ensure that my little girl has a book chock full of memories of her first year in school and to save face, I will be scrapbooking all weekend to meet Monday's deadline.  I've decided to make it a project for the both of us, that way I look like a really cool Mom who just wanted to spend time with her daughter...and not the lame, overwhelmed working mother who's brain sponge is soaked to capacity and forgot.

   I guess the important thing is, you still score...even when you have to slide in to get there!!!  (It's just worse when you wear a skirt).

  Something you should know about me is that I love to read biographies.  I am simply enthralled by the tales of peoples' lives in their entirety, because only then can you truly see the undulations we all experience in a lifetime.  Something I find very comforting.  Particularly, when I am standing in one of my "valleys", that God willing, will give way to a new "peak" on the horizon soon.

   One of my favorite reads, which also happens to be an easy one, is from our First Lady of the State, journalist and working mother, Maria Shriver.  It's based on a commencement speech she gave by the same name titled: "10 Things I wish I'd Known - Before I Went Out Into the Real World".  Though it's not a traditional biography, it has the lessons learned over the course of her life, which despite her pedigree are incredibly grounded and pragmatic.

   One of her pieces of advice is that every woman should always have her own desk.  Whether she is the CFO of a Fortune 500 Company or the CEO of her household, it's critical to a woman's sense of well-being and purpose.  And above all, defines her space.  I've never forgotten that little nugget.  It compliments one of my own working mother (in or out of the home) philosophies. 

   I always tell all my friends, they need to find a place that reboots their "Zen-ergy".  A place that they like, for no other reason than, they just like it.  It doesn't, and quite frankly shouldn't be, a place to run errands, or get anything done, just a space that makes them smile or rekindles a joy they have.  Strangely enough, mine is the "Cedros Design District" in Solana Beach.

   For as long as I can remember I have enjoyed beautiful decor and knick knacks.  I must have rearranged and redecorated my little pink bedroom once a month during elementary school, while making wallpaper samples out of index cards.  Dorky I know, but it's a part of my DNA.  Something as a mother you don't often get to express.  Let's face it, our number one decorating priority in parenthood is durability.  Not always a pretty trade off.

   So whenever I have an afternoon free of kids or work, or a couple of free hours in the morning...that's where you'll find me.  I stroll up and down the street, peeking in and out of stores, pleasing no one...but myself!  And, everytime I leave, I recapture a little part of me that's just for me, and all to often pushed aside.  Then, I go to work or home, having written a little paragraph in my own biography on how to hold onto parts of yourself, when you're giving so much of it away, every day.  And in that moment I find some "Zen-ergy"...to keep going.

   I can still see my blonde haired Barbie dangling in the wind out the rear window of our station wagon by her golden locks, somewhere in "nowhere" Nevada, with my two older brothers threatening to drop her.  It's as vivid a memory, as the myriad of smells that always accompanied those two.   Mile after mile, I endured their torture. Fighting them, boredom, and piles of luggage from burying me into oblivion in the backseat. 

    It was our family road trip from Arizona to Washington state.  A journey that like most, started out with smiles, anticipation, and games... and ended with my father slamming the car door....and taking a long walk around the block by himself.   We didn't see him for an hour.

   Recently, I set out on my own family road trip with my kids.  We drove from San Diego to Sedona, Arizona, The Four Corners National Monument, up to Telluride, Colorado, across to Bryce Canyon National Park and into Zion, Utah, through Las Vegas... and back home.  Needless to say, it was a lot of driving.  But there was symmetry to this trip.  It was the continuum of both my husband and my childhoods...bleeding into our own kids' memory banks.  We knew with each mile we logged, we were making memories for them.  And suddenly, we felt this awesome responsibility.  This was their childhood!  These will be the experiences that will shape who they are and what they'll reflect back on.  And we can only hope...they look back on them fondly.  Like we do.

   All the teasing, annoyances, Madlibs and mishaps, that can only be created in the vacuum of a family road trip, is something every child should both experience and endure.  It's not a vacation, it's a rite of passage.  And a ride, I wouldn't miss for the world.

   That's not just the title of a drowsy Willie Nelson song anymore... that's how I feel after somehow pulling off yet another birthday party for one of my kids.  My son turned 9 this month (which is a feat in and of itself, when you consider I used to mark off every day he was still alive under my care, after he was born.)

   Well, now that I can openly celebrate my kids' birthdays without trepidation there might not be another one, I find myself wishing there wasn't another brithday party to go along with it.  They've become as draining as going into labor, without the breathing exercises.  Which by the way, would have been handy yesterday, after the giant slip n' slide we spend hundreds of dollars on, was utilized for all of 15 minutes.  At which point my son and a dozen of his friends turned to me and said, "We're bored.  Can we play Playstation 3?"  (I immediately had visions of tossing my son down the slip n' slide myself, much like the way tigers carry their young by the scruff of the neck.)

   I articulated my simmering feelings by simply saying "Are you kidding me?"  Which my intuitive son, quite rightly took as his Irish Mom's way of saying "You better be kidding" and quickly retracted his statement.

   It was then we decided to break out the water balloons (which cost us a total of three bucks) and all the memories of my own childhood birthday parties came splashing back.  Here we were in the shadow of this portable monster water park...and the kids just wanted to pelt each other with water balloons.  Reminding me once again, to keep it simple. 

    In our fast paced, plugged in, highly produced world, I WAS THE ONE making it bigger than it needed to be....thinking the scale of his party might somehow match the weight of my love for him.  But like most sayings.... there's a reason, people say "it's the little things that make the greatest impression."   Because it's true.

   Which is why I now have six months to plan my daughter something really simple that celebrates the other greatest day of my life...and now, I'm actually looking forward to it.

     I know, that headline alone can conjure up all kinds of images, but I'm not talking about any of Michael Jackon's strange, perhaps even criminal relationships with children that shaped the last decade of his life.  What I'm talking about is explaining the life and death of Michael Jackson to children.

     The topic came up for us, during our family vacation (a very "Griswold Family Vacation" type affair, I'll blog about later), when racing out the door of a Utah hotel room for a morning hike.  It was at that moment the media blitz of Michael's passing, pierced our frivolity.  My six year old daughter, continued to play with some action figures with little regard for my husband's or my repeated drumbeat of:  "Michael Jackson is dead?"  But, my nine year old son took notice and asked "Who's that?"  We explained he was a popular singer we grew up listening to and we continued to watch the old videos of the Jacksonn 5 and his "Thriller" days pour in.  Then my son said something that put explaining Michael Jackson into a whole new framework.  He asked again, "Who's that?"  Only this time, he was pointing to a RECENT photo of Michael - pale skinnned, whittled features, frail.  Making no connection between the two.  He had no idea this was the same person.

     It made me really think about Michael's metamorphosis and how to explain that to a child.  I told my son, he had a lot of plastic surgeries to change the way he looked and that he must have been a very sad person inside to do that to himself.  My son continued to watch quietly and then said "He seemed like a nice person."  I said, "He did."  Knowing full well, no one really knew who he was, including Michael.

     Without fail, every morning I take my kids to school donning a ballcap, workout clothes and no make up, someone says to me "I don't know how you do it?"  Meaning, how do I keep such late hours (anchoring the 10pm News) and be at school in the morning and go all day, just to repeat the cycle five days a week.  Or what they're really saying is "Wow...you look awful."

     I always tell them, as long as I don't sit down, I'm okay.  And, frankly, there used to be some truth to that.  Now, I HAVE to lay down.  And, I try to for at least 20 minutes some time in the afternoon, just to get a second wind.  But, like most working and stay-at-home Moms, taking a breath is next to impossible some days.  For instance, during my 9 year old son's baseball season, my dinner breaks are at a ballfield eating take-out in the stands, while constantly eyeballing my six year old daughter running around with other siblings on the sidelines.  Not exactly what I call a "break".  But yet, on some level it is.    The pure joy, raw agony or utter silliness all the kids so boldy and without shame display is so refreshing.  I work in a world of "spin" we have to unwind, soundbites we have to make sense out of, and a world that some times feels is going to pot.

     So how do I do it?  Honestly, my kids force me without their knowing to stop...look...and listen.  And, without fail...I find myself smiling quietly in the corner, knowing it's all worth it.