And while I’m on the topic of what I would like for Mother’s Day, I would love to open the cabinet under the sink and discover that the once full trash can is now empty. Do kids think that mothers possess some kind of magic so that the lid on the big gray garbage can will open only for us? I guess it’s the same kind of magical powers that makes it possible for only moms to put a new roll of toilet paper on the holder.

So those are the kind of surprises that I would love to get regardless of whether or not it’s Mother’s Day. But there is one supposed indulgence that no one ever, ever, has to give me on Mother’s Day or the other 364 days of the year: breakfast in bed.

Eating in bed sounds only slightly less appealing to me than eating in the shower. Both are places that I don’t really look my best – not that I always have to have my makeup on and the frizz flat-ironed out of my hair to be able to enjoy eating – but generally, I prefer to have applied deodorant within the last 18 hours before sharing a meal with someone.

Plus there’s the whole logistics of eating in bed. Who wants crumbs in their sheets? And eating in bed isn’t particularly conducive to conversation. While mom juggles the tray on her lap, everybody else probably has to sit uncomfortably on the bed. Unless you’ve got a Tempur-Pedic mattress, you had better watch that coffee and OJ bouncing sloshing around every time someone sits down or gets up.

You may have seen the TV commercial for Philadelphia Cream Cheese in which the husband wakes up his wife (at least we think that’s who it is; wedding rings aren’t evident) while a faux indie song plays in the background. Of course, she doesn’t wake up with her hair going in 16 different directions and there aren’t any creases in her skin from the sheets. The couple cozies up while slathering an inch of cream cheese on bagels and teasing each other with strawberries dipped in the creamy white stuff.

Doesn’t look like fun to me. In fact, it makes me cringe. Let me take a shower, brush my teeth and put a couple of layers of fabric between me and the outside world.

I’ll take my cream cheese and bagels at the table, thank you.

Changing schools – especially midway through high school – was something that I never anticipated doing. All of our three children stayed at the same elementary school  even when the school went through some difficult changes in the administration and many parents were jumping ship left and right. We always felt that if they had good teachers – which they did – that was what really mattered.

But when we moved from Petaluma to Cotati last November, which put us equidistant from both Petaluma and Santa Rosa, Jennifer became interested in checking out some of the specialized programs at Santa Rosa schools that she had heard about from friends. Programs such as ArtQuest at Santa Rosa High and the International Baccalaureate program at Montgomery High.

Jennifer has always been a child who likes to try things out and is more willing to put herself out there much more than her siblings ever would. And thankfully, her experimentation runs in the direction of social and academic outlets rather than risky behavior. She’s tried cheerleading, drama, badminton, public speaking – all just to see if they held any long-term interest for her.

So rather than being intimidated by the prospect of finding her way around a new school and making new friends, she’s excited about it. She feels like it’s a challenge that she would regret passing up.

I also think she wants to get out from under her older sister’s shadow and forge her own path. She’s not like me – I purposefully sought out the same teachers and professors that my older four siblings had had. They were all really good students and I’m sure many of the A’s on my report cards were given to me purely on the basis on my last name. They had set the standard; all I had to do was not screw it up.

But I have to respect Jennifer for not wanting to only be known as “Valerie’s sister” in her remaining time in high school. She wants to achieve something that is unique to her. Is there sibling rivalry in there? Sure, but again, I’m grateful it’s channeled in a positive direction. There are a lot of ways teenagers set themselves apart so if Jennifer is doing it by switching schools so she can take on an academically tough program, I’m ok with that.

As supportive as I am of Jennifer wanting to challenge herself socially and academically, there are many things I will miss about the wonderful Petaluma school community. The PHS Band (thank you, Mr. Eveland), the Herold Mahoney awards, the PEF awards, and Senior Recognition night are just a few of them.

For almost 20 years, one of our kids has been in a Petaluma City School. It’s been a great journey.

In the bigger picture of life, it’s pretty small stuff – I’m not talking about surgeries or the births of babies but it’s stressful nonetheless. So when it all works out, I certainly breathe a sigh of relief and try to remember for the next time that I really don’t need to get so worked up. Ninety-nine percent of the time, everything really does come together just fine.

The challenge this past Saturday was that it was Butter & Egg Days parade and also the day of the Senior Prom at PHS. Because I was the volunteer recruiter and help organize the volunteers on the day of the parade, it was going to be a workday for me. I love meeting all the great people who are willing to give of their time and energy to make the parade a success but it is a busy day and potentially long day.

Our daughter Jennifer Lynn was involved because the Petaluma High Band marches in the parade and she had also gotten an invitation to the Prom. Thankfully, Steve was going to handling the chauffering duties of getting her to the parade and immediately back home. It was also very fortunate that the PHS band was entry number 12 in the two hour parade. Had time allowed, I know she could have spent the entire day getting ready for the big evening out. As she lamented, she was only going to have two hours to get ready! Most school mornings, she spends about five minutes putting her makeup on during the car ride to school.

Adding to the anxiety was the closure of Doyle Drive. How early would they have to leave? Would their plan to take the ferry into the City work or could the ferry possibly be sold out because so many people didn’t want to deal with the potential gridlock on the Bridge? Would I be able to get home in time from the parade to pin her bra straps to the back of her dress so it didn’t show? That’s’ not a job she wanted her dad to take on. Would the pin curls work out so her hair wouldn’t look like a fro gone wrong?

When her date arrived at 4:00 to pick her up, everything was in place. Her hair looked great and I had gotten home to pin her straps without drawing blood. She looked fabulous in her bright red, 1940s Hollywood-style dress that she was so proud of finding for $10 at a Petaluma thrift store.

She and her date looked so cute as his dad drove them off to catch the Ferry which they were able to do without a problem. The day was a big success on all counts.

For two years, Jennifer Lynn wanted nothing to do with thinking about college. But recently, that has all changed and she dreams about where she wants to go to college. I think part of it has to do with our move last year – she sees college as her ticket out of a 1600 square foot condo in Cotati that she has to share with her “Can I get the senior discount on that?” parents.

Also, once she took the PSAT and marketing materials with photos of ethnically diverse 19-year-olds with perfect teeth lounging and laughing on manicured lawns with ivy-covered buildings in the background started filling our mailbox, her heart leaped at the thought.

So when Steve spotted an ad in the newspaper for a College Fair with representatives from 150 colleges, it sounded like an all-you-can-eat buffet of college opportunities for Jennifer.

When we arrived at the Dominican campus for the College Fair, there was already a line of over-achieving students and competitive parents – like us – waiting to get in. Once we were let inside the gym, there were rows upon rows of rectangular tables covered with a tablecloth bearing the school’s name and if they were smart, the city and state that the school is located in.

We stayed together as a family for the first few tables but it was obvious that Jennifer wanted to ditch us and do the college version of speed dating on her own. That was fine with Steve and me. We were very happy leaning against a door playing a game of “match the student with their parent.”

Jennifer is interested in studying art and quickly picked up that when a school said that their art department was “very small but the students get a lot of individual attention” it was code for “our art department is in the sub-basement under the parking garage and we’re really interested in engineering students.”

She spent several minutes talking to the cute guy at the Cornish College of the Arts table, skipped over the not-hot guys at several public universities and then landed at the table for the Savannah College of Art and Design. One look at their cool brochure and she was smitten. Georgia sounds so exotic to her. “The only thing I know about Georgia are peaches which I really like.” Reason enough to go 3,000 miles away to college.

Drew is an orthotist and prosthetist, which must be such an unusual profession that Spellcheck doesn’t even recognize those as legitimate words.

While orthotist and prosthetist don’t exactly roll off my tongue, I’m quite familiar with the terms because our middle daughter, Valerie who is now 19, was born without a left arm below the elbow.

She was fitted with her first prosthesis when she was six months old. It’s really quite a cute little thing. It looks like a doll’s arm hinged to a plastic cuff that slipped over her upper arm. It had a figure eight-type strap that looped over her other shoulder so it would stay on. She still has the arm; it’s packed away with her favorite stuffed animal, yearbooks and other mementos of her childhood.

I had never met Drew before last week because Valerie got all her prostheses from Shriner’s Hospital for Children. I can’t really remember how we originally got connected with Shriner’s; the best I can recall, it was suggested to us that they had a lot of experience working with children. We just got started with them early on and for the most part, Valerie received excellent care from them.

In my interview with Drew, one point that he emphasized was how he listens to his patients. He wants to understand at the deepest level what their heart’s desire is, what about their disability frustrates them, and how he can provide the tool that will help them achieve their vision of themselves.

It made me think back to a couple of our experiences working with prosthetists at Shriners. There was one time we had made an appointment because Valerie’s prosthesis was causing her a lot of pain in her elbow, so much so that she couldn’t wear it. However, she had a rhythmic gymnastics meet coming up the next weekend for which she needed to be able to wear her arm. I remember the white examining room feeling like it was closing in on us as Valerie, me, and the prosthetist sat in silence. He seemed unwilling to offer up any kind of solution to the situation. Eventually he sighed and said he could try one other thing as a last resort. Fortunately, it worked to relieve the pressure and she was able to wear her arm and compete.

The reason I tell this story is because after talking with Drew, I was reminded of the contrast when we worked with a different prosthetist who was much more like Drew in his approach. Instead of making Valerie feel like her discomfort was her fault, his attitude was one of “I know there is a way we can fix this. It may take some experimentation but we’ll get there. If you want to be able to do (fill in the blank), I’ll do everything I can to help you achieve your goal.”

I would consider Drew extreme – and I mean that as the highest compliment – in his “can do” approach. He is committed to helping his patients reach their goals but as he put it, “wrapped in reality.” After all, we’re not talking about creating the Bionic Man or woman here. But patients who work with him are very blessed because when you work with someone like him, the world expands with possibilities instead of shrinking with limitations.

It was probably mid-week last week on the drive home from picking her up at school when Jennifer Lynn asked me if we could make a trip to Michael’s to buy face paint for a video project for her Spanish class. I was probably barely paying attention; I’m sure I was much more consumed with thinking about whether or not I could scrounge something out of the freezer – hmm, Costco potstickers and pizza, that will work – thereby avoiding going to the grocery store for one more night.

“Sure, we’ll go there sometime over the weekend,” I said and then didn’t give it another moment’s thought.

Even though we passed by Michael’s six more times before the week was over, I was always focused on the next item on my agenda and Jennifer Lynn’s request for face paint was’t on it.

I think she mentioned it again on Friday, and I brushed it off with “we’re all going into the city on Saturday so we’ll get it on Sunday.”

Somewhere between home and church on Easter I remembered that she needed it for first period Monday morning. No problem, we can get it this afternoon. Michael’s is open on Thanksgiving; they are certain to be open on Easter. And if not Michaels, there’s always Target which is open way past my bedtime on any given night.

Amazingly enough, Target, Trader Joes, Costco, and Michaels are closed on Easter. It was shocking to see Rohnert Park, which is after all – all shopping centers – looking like a ghost town. Easter and Christmas are the only days that those stores are closed.

You mean there are two days out of the year that I can’t have instant gratification? I can’t buy face paint at the exact moment that is convenient for me? I had to abide by someone else’s schedule? How dare they!

Yes, I was bummed that Michaels was closed but we found an alternative for face paint at CVS that worked just fine – non-toxic, washable Crayola paints.

Am I glad that there are some stores that find a day worthy of being closed? Yes. How would I feel if CVS and Safeway also chose to close on Christmas and Easter and so I wouldn’t have been able to buy the paint?

I would feel a little inconvenienced and I would have to plan ahead better but somehow the generation before us managed without stores being open 24/7.  I think I could too.

Once again, I am the volunteer recruiter for the parade. I am very grateful because we have some amazing people who return year after year to volunteer.

But we also have lots of volunteer jobs to fill. So I am asking – no pleading – with you to consider enjoying the parade from the middle of it, instead of on the sidelines. This year’s parade is on Saturday, April 28.

In addition to being part of a great day that really shows off Petaluma’s community spirit, you get a cool Volunteer T-shirt. And you get to attend the Volunteer Thank You Party in May that has a drawing for lots of wild and crazy prizes. You might even end up with a great story or two about the day.

We are especially in need this year for volunteers to be Parade Safety Monitors. We don’t want any little ones running into an oncoming chicken float. We provide the training at a meeting on April 17^th from 6-8 pm and then you check into volunteer headquarters at 9:30 am on parade day and you’re done after the parade.

Or how about staffing a water station.  If it’s a beautiful spring day like we usually have on Butter & Egg Days, it’s a great spot to be.

Thank you for considering being a part of our beloved tradition.

If you have any questions about volunteering, call me at the Petaluma Visitors Center (707) 769-0429. Or you can download the Volunteer Application at www.petalumadowntown.com. Click on the Butter & Egg Days button.

Thanks again and I hope to see you there!

It’s been two months since our drama with the dryer began. It started with a service call to Sears, followed by a service call by a vent cleaning company, which led to water dripping through the ceiling because the serviceman who was supposedly cleaning the vent didn’t properly reattach the washing machine’s drainage hose.

Then, we had visits by two contractors to assess the water damage and hopefully get the dryer working again but when it came to the terms of payment, our landlord got hotheaded and made them angry. So neither of them would come back to do the work..

We pleaded and one of the contractors agreed to come back. He reattached the dryer vent hose which we’ll pay for on our own nickel. It’s just not worth the hassle of trying to work through the long-distance landlord.

The reason the dryer didn’t work in the first place is because the owners of the condo bought a dryer that is too big for the closet-type space that it sits in. The one they bought I’m sure would fit perfectly in their 3,500 square foot house with a separate laundry room but it barely squeezes into the 1,600 square foot condo.

We’ve taken off the louvered doors and moved the dryer six inches into the hallway so that the foil hose that leads from the dryer to the vent wouldn’t be kinked. But the hose still has to have a loop in it and that seems to restrict the air flow to the point that the clothes get dizzy from hours of tumbling but they never get dry.

It’s inconvenient to schlep garbage bags of wet clothes to the Laundromat but in the spectrum of household chores, it’s not all that bad. The Laundromat closest to our house has dryers that even on “low” are so hot that I practically need an oven mitt to take the clothes out after my two quarters worth of time. And since I’ve discovered podcasts, I have actually come to look forward to going. I put the clothes in, hop up on the counter in front of the dryer, and listen a broadcast of “Fresh Air” on NPR or a sermon from a favorite pastor.

Watching dryer drum spin the jeans rhythmically around, listening to a message about God, inhaling the fragrance of Bounce dryer sheets…it’s all a rather Zen experience, if it’s not sacrilegious describe it that way. Laundry and enlightenment – it’s a pretty good combination.

You see, for the past three years, I’ve been growing out my hair. When it was still short, my daughters told me that it looked stiff and old-lady-ish. That was motivation enough to have me cancel my next haircut and start trying to get some length to my hair. Then, I started looking at other women my age to see what my hairstyle options were. There was a beautiful woman I saw at church whose haircut I admired. She had a lovely chin-length bob. So why not go for that look, I thought?

The problem is that she has good hair and I don’t. When the Bible says that “the very hairs on your head are numbered,” God wouldn’t even need to get into five digits for me, it’s that thin. And saying my hair is in a “pony tail” when it’s pulled back is a misnomer. Mine is much closer to a rat tail in thickness.

So after repeating the long, short, long, short, long cycle of hair length one more time in my life, I have come to the conclusion that short is going to be the way I wear my hair for the rest of my life. As much as I fantasize about having hair like Sonya Vergara, my German heritage just isn’t going to pull it off. If you’ve seen photos of Angela Merkel, you’ll know what I mean.

Like the mortgage that we couldn’t afford, my hair was weighing me down. We lightened up by reducing our living space by about 1000 square feet. Why not do it personally too and lighten up by cutting a few inches off my hair? Once Kim at Solo Hair Design had done her magic and six inches of hair lay on the floor, I felt great.

When Kim cut it, it was like she cut off three years of recession that had been weighing me down. My neck immediately felt longer, I felt like a burden had been lifted from me.

I’m hoping that this lighter feeling translates into a lighter, brighter outlook on life no matter what the headlines say.

The owner didn’t like doing business development, so Ethan was tasked with making cold calls to nonprofits with the goal of generating enough work to keep the business afloat.

He got tips from Steve on how to respond to the typical answers such as “we do all our video in-house” or “we already have someone who handles that for us.” Ethan gave it his best shot and got them some meetings. But new business – at least in the near future – wasn’t forthcoming, so he got laid off.

Then a job prospect appeared; after thinking that he had really fumbled the phone interview for a job at a video game company, he got called back to do a shadowing day. He was shocked and ecstatic.

We checked in with him briefly after he had spent the day at the company. He felt good about how the day had gone; they said they would let him know on Monday.

So on Monday evening when we hadn’t heard from him, I decided to give him a call and see what the news was. As I suspected since he hadn’t called, he didn’t get the job.

He was angry and hurt. “I should have stayed for another year at SF State because then I would have gotten an additional degree in film production that would have really meant something. When I pointed out that this would add at least another $10,000 to his already compounding student loans, he didn’t want to hear it. “Nothing I did is worth anything.”

In the spectrum of the many challenges that life can throw at a person, not getting a job that you had hoped to get – when you’re only 23 – is disappointing but certainly not tragic. But it’s so tough to see you’re child in pain. As a parent, you can’t help but wish you could rush over, give the “owie” a kiss and make it all better. Being a bit of a worry wart, I’m already dreading the day one of our daughters gets dumped by a boy.

Before I sank into a sea of depression with him, Steve got on the phone and tried to help him put things into perspective; to remind him that there will be other opportunities, that God has a plan for him, and it is persevering through the difficulties in life that builds character and humility.

Was he able to hear us at the time? Probably not, but when we checked back in with him a few days later, he was back on the hunt for a job and doing it with more determination and less arrogance. He is willing to take any job that will allow him to not have to move back home and sleep on our couch. With one exception: he can’t bring himself to work at Starbucks for a third time. Oh well, there’s always Peets.