Since my first trip to Europe, the summer of 1993, I had classified myself as a World Traveller.  I was, and am still, so fascinated by other cultures and countries.  I love trying new foods and experiencing life like a local.  When I met my husband, he, too, loved to travel, and we loved travelling together.  Our first international trip was on our honeymoon to Bali and Thailand.  It was the most amazing vacation I have ever been on.  About a year and a half after we were married, we became pregnant with our first son.  Shortly thereafter, the international travelling ceased, or at least slowed down to that of molasses.  When our son was one years old, my parents very graciously offered to keep him for two weeks so my husband and I could travel to Anguilla and Miami for my 30th birthday.  We came home with a a great souvenir…a positive pregnancy test!  About six months later, our daughter was born.  This time, the international travelling really came to an end.

That was five years ago.  Even though I was just travelling to Mexico, I was nervous.  Nervous about the flight (what mother doesn’t get on a plane and assume the worst…that she will be leaving her four children alone in this world to fend for themselves?!?!), nervous about filing out the customs papers, nervous about customs, nervous about the Mexican police and drug lords, nervous about my money being pick pocketed…seriously.  I remember when I got on a plane to Europe, it was a TWA jumbo jet, and I was sitting in a window seat looking out on the runway.  I had just left my parents and the rest of my family for the first time, to go across an ocean, to a different country, where they didn’t have American dollars or speak English.  Though I was excited and sad, I don’t remember being nervous.  I didn’t have the responsibilities I do today…kids, house, bills, etc., things that take over your mind completely and keep you from ever feeling like an 18 year old ever again.  Once up in the air, and the flight seemed to be going seamless, I was able to begin my decompressing.  At first I thought I would have all the time in the world to read a few books, catch up on the gossip mags, maybe even write a little.  Who was I kidding?  When I got in my over sized First Class seat, I took out my iPad to read off my Kindle App, and next thing I knew the stewardess was nudging me to see if I wanted anything to drink.  I couldn’t keep my eyes open the entire flight.  Landed in Phoenix, got off the plane and back on another, and same thing…bam! sound asleep.  I don’t sleep well on planes, so that should tell you something!  I don’t think I realized how really very tired I was.

RSH was already in Mexico and he and his buddies were planning on picking me up from the airport with the car his buddy kept down there.  As soon as we landed, the nerves kicked in again. It had been years since I had been in Mexico.  In fact, the last time I was there was exactly 14 years ago with my best friends from high school.  We all met up in Cabo for our last Spring Break in college before we graduated.  My memories of Cabo were that of one big dance party and drinking games at The Giggling Marlin, El Squid Roe, Cabo Wabo and The Office.  The hazy memories, and probably because I was pretty hazy then, too, of wandering around the main drag of town with Coronas in hand, fending off the street vendors, and enjoying the freedoms of Mexico that are in so many Jimmy Buffet and cowboy songs.  This time around, I really didn’t know what to expect.  Coming off the plane, I was directed to a large, Mexican man with a moustache who looked like he had the most boring job in the world.  He sat behind the counter at Immigration and said, “Hola,” and nothing else.  I don’t even think he looked up at me, just stamped my passport, then pointed to the baggage claim, where you tested your luck of proceeding through the gates with a push of a button.  Green means go, Red means your screwed.  Luckily, my light was green.  I couldn’t get the handle to pull out of my suitcase, so I had to drag it by the carry-handle.  And being so well directed in Mexico, I had no idea where I was going, and instead of following the crowd (still hadn’t had my coffee yet), I walked into an empty area where there were Mexican guards with the biggest guns I’ve ever seen in person.  One of them looked at me and said, “Girl, go that way,” and pointed to an Exit sign where the other Americans were already walking.  Now I was really getting nervous, but still trying to keep my cool, as I had to pass through the hundreds of limo and taxi drivers who want to take you into town.  As directed by RSH, I just kept saying, “NO, my husband is here,” while secretly praying he was sitting outside the door waiting for me.  Again, not knowing which door to choose, I took a chance and went the way the rest of the Americans were going.  They were easy to spot…most of them being stark white and from the Mid West as, understandably so, they were escaping the freezing cold and snow dumping they had been experiencing for the last few weeks.  He was not there.  And I was already cursing him under my breath.  I didn’t want to look like a confused tourist, so I started to text him, hoping the International Plan I signed up for before I left was working and the texts were not costing me $20 a word.

He said he could see me and was walking my way.  My plane had landed early, so they were actually on-time.  From behind the gaggles of the white American tourists, I could see RSH…rugged, faded blue baseball hat, tanned face with the beginnings of a rough beard, a lululemon sport shirt with a black hoodie, linen shorts and flip flops.  He looked so hot!  He looked relaxed, and he was mellow, and was happy to see me.  And I, him.  His buddies right behind him, grabbing my luggage and ushering me off the car.  As we rode into town, I tried to think back fourteen years ago to place myself.  The town had built up so much since then.  Huge, beautiful, luxurious resorts had popped up and lined both the Sea of Cortez and the Pacific Ocean sides of the coast. There were strip malls filled with American favorites like Wal-Mart, Sam’s Club, Applebee’s, McDonald’s, KFC, and Wendy’s.  I only remembered a lonely dirt road with desert for miles.  Now the roads were pretty well paved, with a highway system and toll road intact.  There was clean, landscaped, organized housing for those who worked in the resorts, and I saw several schools as well.  I could tell this was definitely a different Cabo then from my last visit.

His one buddy was driving the car.  He owned the fishing boats and a time share in Cabo.  He also owned the car, which was, by American standards, a beat up Explorer, but in Cabo, it was perfect and got us where we needed to go without the threat of being flashy and sticking out like a sore thumb.  As we drove the twenty minutes into town, he gave us little tips about where to get gas, where to exchange money, where to drive, when to drive, how to drive.  Told us about the housing boom and crash happening in Cabo, and told us stories about friends who flipped houses for investments down here and how they made a huge profit.  I was still a little disoriented, and couldn’t wait to get to the beach or the resort or somewhere where I could have a beer and enjoy the warm sun.  All I heard was, “First stop, the Officina!”

At the Office

This place had definitely not changed.  Bright, loud colors to match the bright, loud personalities of the wait staff.  Lanterns and canopies hung all around with glimpses of Mexican art work in silver and huge painted pieces of ceramics, the familiar Mexican blankets were in piles by the door for guests in case they got cold, and there was still the crazy Mexican Dr. with the bottle of Tequila walking around with his whistle, pouring shots down your throat and covering your mouth with a cloth to ensure you swallowed every last drop.  It always reminded me of knocking someone out with a chloroform laced handkerchief.  We sat down at one of the white metal tables and chairs placed on the sand, overlooking the Sea of Cortez.  The waiters went over the menu, but my biggest concern was getting a bucket of beers.  Finally…ceviche and Coronas, the beach, the sun, a band of Mariachis playing in the background, and no interruptions by anyone under the age of 6.  Fantastico!

It all began with a girls’ weekend trip to Vegas.  My college roommates and sorority sisters came from all over the country for our annual get together.  Obviously, the older we get, the more responsibilities we take on…spouses, kids, jobs, houses…but the great thing with this group of 10 incredible women is that we have committed to our friendships and make the effort at least once a year to spend time with each other…get wild and crazy…then go back home to our more conservative, sophisticated lives.

Usually when we come together it’s because we are celebrating an exciting event, like a baby being born, or someone getting married or moving into a new house, but this time was bittersweet.  It was the “Bon Voyage” party for the mama hen of our group, we call her “The Planner,” as she keeps us all in-touch, organized and seriously carries the weight of ensuring our friendship remains solid through the years.  Her husband is in the Air Force and they are going across the ocean for a few years, so we figured now is as good a time as any to have an amazing blow-out in her honor!  And, gracefully, they all agreed to meet in Vegas so I could join them.  By being able to leave my little ones at home, I could go back and forth to the Strip to meet up with them.

RSH (Rock Star Hubby) had agreed to help me out so I could enjoy my time with the ladies.  They literally come from all over, New York, Maryland, Phoenix, California, and they planned the date, meaning bought plane tickets and everything, around the time he would be available so I could play.  I had the kids’ all organized according to his work schedule, and I planned to spend one night at the hotel so I could get in some good girly fun.

Rewind about 8 weeks.  RSH 40th birthday was coming up.  Generally, we like to travel to some place fun, rather than spend the money on a big party.  Both of our parents had been offering to throw him one, and he was adamant that was not what he wanted.  I was asking him on a regular basis where he would like to go…Telluride? Hawaii? Mexico? To which I was told we were not going anywhere, we were not spending any money, he did not want to celebrate his 40th birthday except for dinner with his best friend, and alone with our kids.  So, I planned a dinner with his BFF and his wife (their birthdays are a month apart), and called it a day.

As we quickly began approaching the Girls’ Weekend, RSH started getting emails from a buddy of his who owns some fishing boats down in Cabo.  He wanted to take RSH deep sea fishing, one of his most favorite things to do in the whole wide world, for his 40th birthday.  And, surprise! Guess what?  It just so happened to be the same weekend as my girls’ weekend that we had been planning for months.  Of course, he started with the whole, I know I can’t go…right?  Finally, after days of moaping around and talking about how amazing the trip would be, I told him we was welcome to go, but just as in fishing, there was a catch.  He had to take me with him.  There was no way I was going to let him celebrate his 40th birthday without me, while he was in Mexico, relaxing, fishing and drinking, and I was running around like a mad woman for 10 days with four kids!  Immediately, he said, “OK! Sounds good!”, and went off to call his buddy and plan their trip leaving me with my mind racing trying to figure out how I was going to pull this off on my own.

TGFN! Thank God For Nannies!  Our nanny is a blessing in disguise.  She was recommended to us by another friend of mine who also has twins, and an older son.  She is great with the kids, she keeps the house clean, laundry done, babies on schedule, and me organized…my secret is out of the bag!  She comes twice a week, and when I need her for dinners and events with RSH…she truly is amazing, and when she cannot make it for one reason or another, my house and life is in complete disarray.  Not to mention, she is young and wanting to save money for a house, so she is eager to work.  Perfect!  I call her up and ask can she watch the kids until I get home on Friday night? And can she spend the night on Saturday and stay until I get home on Sunday?  Then can she come over after her other full time job on Tuesday and stay with the babies until my mom and dad got there to spend the night so I could leave for Mexico?  Yes?!?! Oh, God Bless Her!  I started to breathe a little easier.

Now, off to pack for the two older kids, who will be staying with my in-laws, the twins, who will be staying with my parents, then me…I needed an over night bag for my sleep over with the girls, then I had to get packed for five days in Mexico.  TGFS! Thank God For Sisters!  She provided me with the majority of my wardrobe for all of this, so all I had to do was add jammies, toiletries, etc, and I was ready to go!  Oh…what else…right.  Have to write out an entire schedule for each child, no kidding.  My actual schedule was three pages long with times and days, where the kids were sleeping, who was picking them up where and when, phone numbers, addresses, when to feed the dog, turtles and fish…this is just a Cliff’s Notes version.

• RSS (Rock Star Son)…has school, wears uniform, takes hot lunch to make it easy for everyone, has piano on Tuesdays (Father-in-Law will pick up and drop off), has Religion Education Class after school (which my mom teaches, so she will pick him up for that), has basketball practice on Thursday (Dad will take him and bring him back to in-laws), has Cub Scouts on Friday (Father-in-law will bring him to that).  Need to remember Cub Scout book, back pack, basketball, uniform for all three, piano books, lunch box, water bottle, toothbrush…done!
• RSD (Rock Star Daughter)…school, wears uniform, no hot lunch, needs to bring hers everyday, has dance on Tuesdays (girlfriend from class will take her, Father-in-law to pick up…need to bring dance clothes and car seat to school), has sports class after school on Thursdays.  Need to remember her meds (she has asthma), uniforms, dance clothes, car seat, lunch box, backpack, toothbrush…done!
• RST (Rock Star Twins)…OMG, where do I start…literally record every step of routine…eating, burping, change diaper, let them cry, pick them up, put them down, nap, play time, bath time, night light, mobile, humidifier.  Need to remember jammies, clothes, socks, bottles, formula, water, bibs, seats, activity gym, blankets, stroller, car seats, and bottle proppers (no one could make it a day without those!)…done? God I hope so.

This alone took two weeks to prepare and get everything ready.  I was exhausted after doing just this!  Needless to day…I was ready for my girls to get here so I could unwind and have fun, and Mexico was the light at the end of the tunnel.  I was secretly hoping the five days in Mexico was worth the two weeks of planning to get down there.

I was able to have a good time knowing that my kids were at home with the nanny while I was down on the Strip.  It’s such a comforting feeling when you know they are safe and being treated well.  That you don’t have to leave early to go and collect all of them and their belongings, then drive them back home and get everyone out of the car and into the house.  I have done it before.  Not fun.  This is why I need my nanny!  She really does make my life easier.

RSH pulled through, like he said he would.  See, he left for Mexico the day my girls came in for the weekend.  Though we all paid for everything we did, he did help us secure a table at the nightclub and reservations at the restaurant.  He had to promise me and swear on the lives of his four children that this weekend would go off without a hitch.  And it did.  He was on-duty the whole time he was down there, except for during the day while he was out at sea, and I didn’t really need him then anyway.  The girls arrived at VIP check-in and were already in awe of Aria.  Before they got here, they weren’t even sure of where they were staying because Mama Hen, aka, “The Planner”, threw down her credit card and took care of the rooms.  The City Center itself, even though it’s been around for a year now, is still a little confusing to the general public.  There are several buildings, hotels, crazy entrances…people comment they feel like they are driving into an airport or hospital while dodging cabs and limos.  When the economy crashed, it hit Vegas pretty hard, which especially meant bad news for those who had investments and jobs in construction.  Many projects were literally just walked away from, and left to sit for a few years until someone or some bank could come in, buy it and put it back together again.  City Center faced some of these struggles, and therefore, when it did opened, not all the buildings opened.  Aria is the only hotel/casino on the property and was the first, along with Vdara (a non-gaming, hotel/condo tower) and the Mandarin Oriental.  Then there’s the whole marketing issue, and it’s not clear to most people what the difference is between Aria and City Center.  So when the girls arrived at their destination, they were giddy with how cool the structure really is.  The VIP check-in has a very hospitable lounge with couches, and complimentary coffee, water, cocktails and wine along with cheese and crackers and fruit to keep you satisfied while you wait either for your room, or for your next big thing.  Once all the girls arrived, they left the lounge and headed up to their suite, which, of course, was a corner sweet with the most amazing view.

The H.C. (minus two!) at Deuce in Vegas!

We had an amazing weekend full of delicious dinners…Holsteins at the Cosmopolitan, Union at Aria…crazy cocktails and lots of vodka…dancing, stories, paparazzi picture taking…we even saw Wyclef Jean play at Haze…the girls went home with the feeling of being treated like high-rollers and RSH wasn’t even in the country!

@Rockstarmomlv with @Redlotusmama and our friend Robyn at Union

One of the crazy cocktails at Union

I have to admit, Sunday was a little rough for me.  Dealing with a weekend hangover, while trying to take care of the babies and get the older kids ready for school the next day was no easy feat.  My dad showed up the next morning with coffee to pick up RSS and RSD and cart them off to school, while I started throwing things around for my next adventure…Mexico!  I wasn’t so angry with RSH anymore, and was actually excited to see him.  I was relieved everything went so well and that we had great stories for the next Girls’ Weekend…hopefully without “The Planner” being in the States, there will still be one next year.

The cab came and picked me up at 4:30am on Tuesday morning.  It was so dark and cold, I fought the notion to go back inside and change out of my flip flops and linen shirt.  I grabbed my sweater instead and
wrapped it around me like a blanket.  The cab driver was awful chatty, I mean after all, it was his job to be up that early in the morning, but I hadn’t had my coffee yet, and had just woke up after getting three hours of sleep and feeding babies.  Besides, I saw a little camera, and a sign advertising “Taxi Cab Confessions” and I wasn’t about to take his bait…I knew he looked familiar.

At the kiosk check-in, I was asked if I wanted to upgrade my whole flight to First Class.  Maybe it was because I hadn’t had my coffee yet, or maybe because I felt I deserved the much needed relaxation the seats and service would provide for me to begin my trip, but I selected, “yes,”  swiped my credit card, and walked to the gate a little giddy and anxious to get there.

So, I messed up.  I couldn’t keep up with my intention of writing straight for 21 days.  I couldn’t even keep up with my Yoga Journal challenge because on day 7, I broke my pinkie toe.  And it’s funny how a little thing like a pinkie toe can really throw your whole week off.  When I hurt my knees right after I started running again, I decided the best way to get through the pain was to power through.  I took a few days off to recover, then got back on the treadmill, ran a few miles everyday, and low and behold, my knees were better.  The day after I broke my toe, it was feeling better because I had elevated, iced it and took some Advil, so I thought, I’m going to walk today and see how it goes.  I put on my running shoes, and had the feeling my toe was going to pop through my shoe, that’s how bad it hurt.  I decided to take a break from the yoga and the running, even though it totally messes with my state of mind when I don’t have those endorphins pumping through my body.  I also sat down a few times to write, but was beyond tired at the end of the day that I couldn’t even think straight.  Not to mention, my daughter is the worst sleeper in the world, meaning, she doesn’t go to bed when she is supposed to, so as I was trying to get through my emails, tweets and Face Book posts, I had this little voice asking me a billion questions about who knows what.  As a result, I could not fairly write something interesting, as I promised I would on Day 9.

I’ve been thinking all day about what I wanted to focus my writing on…Amy Chau’s controversial book? an expert from Snow Flower and the Secret Fan my girlfriend just sent me? my thoughts on what I would tell a mom to be who is expecting twins? Instead, I couldn’t help but think about all the random things that occurred or were said to me in the last 24 hours.  So I thought I would put them in writing and see if there was any pattern, and maybe something would come from all this randomness.

The last two days I have spent organizing my photos.  I have too many to even try and guess a number, but I just spent a ton of money on a professional photographer for the babies and I want to get my photos up.  Since we are also living on one income, I am trying to be budget conscience and use what I already own to display them.  My girlfriend and her husband had this cute little apartment in Venice Beach.  I went to visit them a few years ago, and they had this amazing gallery wall with all these brightly painted picture frames of random 4×6 pictures.  Loved it!  She took me to IKEA where I bought about 25 frames for $10.  I bought samples of paint from Restoration Hardware to match my house, and painted the frames.  They have been sitting in my closet for four years.  Not kidding.  When I stopped working back in May, I took them out one day to start putting pictures in them.  Then I organized them on the floor of my hall where they would go.  Then I leaned them up against the wall to hold myself accountable to getting them done in a timely manner.  Yup, they are still there.  But today, I created three gallery walls in my stair well.  I’m working my way to the other hall to finish up.  Maybe after this weekend. 

My gallery wall…a work in progress

I also worked on this yesterday…I had been wanting one of these!

I have zero patience when it comes to hanging up photos.  Everything is done by “eyeballing it”.  I have no time for balances, rulers, maps, etc.  I just want to do it, and therefore, I have a thousand little holes all over my walls.  I would much rather patch and paint then do it right the first time.  My daughter was watching me hang the photos, and I said to her, “When you have a house of your own, don’t hang photos like this.  There is a professional way to do it, and I’m just being lazy.”  Without thinking twice she said, “So does that mean you are going to cheat on the game we are playing later?” I knew where she was going, but I wanted to hear it for myself.  “Why would you ask that?” I said.  “Because you said you were being lazy, so does that mean you are going to be lazy when you play the game, too?”

Today, my son came home from school without his homework.  This happened after he brought his report card home yesterday and had all B’s and one A.  The B’s were like 1 point away from an A, and the word “listening” was circled for what he needs improvement on.  We had a full on conversation yesterday about how he could improve those B’s to A’s by just listening to the teacher and not making silly mistakes.  So what does he do today?  He forgets his homework.  I was so livid.  This is when I am the most challenged by my intention.  I want to just yell and threaten, when it’s a perfect opportunity to use my language to create a universe of possibility for them.  It’s crazy how different your own children can be in how you approach things with them, or how they handle different situations.  Our morning didn’t start off so great either.  His P.E. teacher wants him to learn how to tie his shoes. Attempting to teach him how to do this , and trying to find solutions together.  Then I thought about the Amy Chau book and another article I read about how we are too easy on our children and they don’t know how to do anything for themselves, and how it is going to create this generation of people who are helpless and lost because their parents are always saving them.  When I first read about Chau’s book and the other article I mentioned, I thought, “There is a ton of tough love happening in our family.  Every man for themselves around here.  I don’t have time to babysit, they have to figure it out on their own.  They need to learn responsibility at a young age.  I can’t go back for forgotten lunches…there’s been times my kids just don’t get lunch because they forgot theirs.”  Then I realized how torn I was between getting them to do things on their own, and guilt because I have four kids and sometimes I feel like I don’t evenly distribute the attention to all four.  Or I am using convenience
to my advantage, so I do things that are easy for me, but not necessarily good for them.  For example, it was easier for me to buy my kids shoes with Velcro because they could get themselves dressed while I fed babies.  But now my son has no fine motor skills and cannot button his shirt or tie his shoes.  Do you know what else he can’t do?  Ride a bike.  He has two.  He won’t get on either of them.  He has a Razor scooter and Heeleys.  He doesn’t want to ride a bike because one time he fell off his bike, and I did make him get back on, but he hasn’t got back on one since.  And it’s because I was working, or there’s no where to ride it, or I was pregnant with twins, or I just had twins…blah, blah, blah…and he has yet to learn how to ride a bike. 

Going back to the missing homework assignment…At first, I grounded him for not taking responsibility and making sure he had his homework.  He said, “OK, for how long.”  It didn’t sound to me like it was making an impact.  So then I said, “You’re not spending the night at Nonnie’s tomorrow.”  But the reality is that I need him to do that more than he does, so again, not working.  My last resort was to have him read a book about responsibility and write a book report on it.  This is what my dad made me do when I made choices that didn’t have great consequences.  The book I had him read was about Ralph Bunche, (for length’s sake, click on the link if you are not sure who he is).  It actually ended up being a pretty relevant story, as he was a black man who learned to be responsible at a young age and ended up chartering the United Nations.  Seeing how we just celebrated Martin Luther King Jr’s birthday, and it is almost Black History Month, it was a great story in regards to civil rights and dreaming big, working hard and how being responsible helped to make all that happened for him.  I think it was a little lost on my son because he wrote his book report about being black and how he was treated unfairly but he still had big dreams and worked hard to do something good.  Wasn’t exactly what I was looking for, but I was glad that he at least got that message.

Finally, after my daughter throwing her little “4 going on 16” attitude around, babies crying, and my son whining about having to do extra work, I said, “That’s It!  I’m so sick of every man for himself around here.  We all need to work together.  It’s teamwork that helps us survive, be successful, learn and enjoy life.  From now on, when one of you gets in trouble, the other gets the same punishment.  You forget your homework, neither of you get to watch TV.  So maybe instead of blaming the other, now you’ll work together to remind each other to make sure you have all of your homework.  When one of you forgets their manners or talks back to mommy, it would be wise to remind each other that behavior like that means no play dates.”  Immediately, they started helping each other out.  Working together to get the table cleaned off, making sure all their homework was put in folders and backpacks ready for school, reminding each other to brush their teeth and they both got in bed quietly and read for a little bit.

I have not read Amy Chau’s book, so I cannot comment directly on her Western vs. Chinese mothering theory.  Part of me strongly believes we need to hold our children to a higher expectation of life by not holding their hand and doing everything for them.  They need to feel fear, disappointment, unsureness.  They also need to know what’s it’s like to practice at something tirelessly until they are good at it so they can make their own decision on whether or not they want to continue to pursue it.  But they also need security to feel confident to fail so they can learn, love so they know they can come back, and pride so they do it again and are not afraid to try.  I am also a strong believer in the Village and team work.  It teaches so much…empathy, respect, tolerance, and gives so much…confidence, love and pride.  If we are all working together to achieve the same goal, imagine the possibilities we can create.  Balance.  The never ending meaning of life.  My intention is to create possibility for my children by finding balance between teaching them as individuals to work together as a team.  I am discovering the best place for them to learn how to do this is with their family…the first team they will ever be on.