A discussion at neighborhood book club the other night: being the "poor people" at the school-that's pretty funny considering we all live in houses worth 1million dollars, most of the people there have advanced degrees (including 2 MD families) and no one appears to be "struggling" in any way.  We all take nice trips, drive expensive cars and have tons of "stuff" -yet compared to some of the other  really wealthy people at the school, we are decidedly middle class.  And listening to the other women, clearly this has been a topic of conversation within their families.  I don't know if I feel immune because my kids' friends are all like us (or I know they have "less" than we have), I certainly don't feel like our family wants for anything, plus I just don't care.  I don't feel the need to keep up with other people.  And there's also the fact that I have WAY more (and my kids have much more) than I had growing up.  In retrospect, I had a perfectly fine house, we took trips, I went to a private high school and college-but it felt like we were definitely the "poorer" people.  Maybe because of my parents' insecurities regarding money and status.  And it seemed like all the other parents in Dominican were lawyers, doctors-and since neither of my parents graduated from college, I'm sure it was a weird thing.  I also can't help but realize that this is the other side of the coin from living in an expensive suburb for your kid:  there's so much homogeneity.  And everything becomes about comparison because everyone has so much.  If we all lived in a more "mixed" area, the schools would be crummy but there wouldn't be that weird feeling of consumerism and keeping up with people.

Why I love living here, an ode to Winter in Southern California:
When I see that the temperatures back in Bmore are single digits, with gusts of wind, more snow to come mid week.
When we drive to LA for the day and I get to see the Hollywood sign
The lovely consumerism that is The Grove
When we have Vietnamese food in Little Saigon
And In N Out for dinner
Walking down the street in Studio City and seeing the sidewalk signs for long ago shows and movies
Palm trees
The Sun shining
Elizabeth wearing a sundress and flip flops
The boys and Stefan in shorts and tee shirts
Flowers blooming all the time
The Pacific Ocean
No one's birthday party is ruined because it snows
The beach over President's Day weekend

Valentines Day

Seventeen years ago we went to IHOP for breakfast (I could barely fit in the booth) and then walked through that pretty neighborhood of Guilford to try and induce my labor.  Even though I wasn't due until the 16th, I had been having contractions for a month, made a trip to the hospital to be monitored, was already dilated and effaced enough that my ob told me not to labor at home, but to come right in if my contractions were strong and regular or my water broke.  The nursery had been ready for months.  The adorable clothes (some of which I had bought prior to even getting pregnant) were washed and put away in the dresser.   I used to go in, sit in the rocking chair and daydream about holding my very own baby girl.  I could.not.wait.  There was never hesitation.  I had wanted to be a mommy my entire life.  It's crazy that it's been seventeen years.  Happy birthday, baby girl.  Thank you for helping to make my dreams come true.

Hearing about other people's marriage struggles, even when your own marriage feels strong and healthy, hits some kind of painful spot.  Those couples were in love once.  They held hands.  They got excited to hear each other's voices on the phone.  They were each other's best friends. They were silly and had private jokes.  They planned to have children-were so thrilled together when they held their very own babies.  They listened to each other's work struggles.  They went out to dinner with other couples.  They bought first houses.  Put together Ikea furniture.  Struggled through sleepless nights, teething, tantrums.  And very possibly other, harder things-job losses, miscarriages, sicknesses, diagnoses, deaths of parents.  When do those things start driving a wedge?  When do the silly annoyances, "oh he's sloppy" or "she's just so negative" start adding up?  How do you go from feeling like you're a team, to feeling alone? misunderstood? not supported? cared for? To feeling like you'd rather go through the agony of tearing your family apart rather than living together in misery for another day?  Do you see it happen?  And where is the point that it's irreparable? When you just don't care to even try?  When it seems hopeless?  The older I get, the less black and white the world becomes.