My grandmother turned 87 yesterday. In her honor, her five children, their spouses and her siblings turned out for a special birthday lunch. In between the memories of neighborhood streets and first boyfriends and having the Italian prisoners of war over for dinner (apparently my great-grandparents would just check them out of the base for the night, like a movie at Blockbuster) the old people talked about their children and grandchildren, and how different their lives are in this twenty-first century.

The conversation was prompted by an article in the local newspaper about generation gaps. If you thought the difference between the Greatest Generation and the Baby Boomers was huge, take a look at the expanse between the Boomers and THEIR kids. (What are we calling ourselves these days anyway? I know I'm too young to be a Gen X'er, but am I Generation Y? A Millenial?) One great-aunt groused about how young people today don't work as hard as she and her husband did. Another great-aunt said young people seem to be so much smarter than they were in her day.

Dan's sister is getting married in July, and Magoo is part of the wedding party. They know he's the best one to bring the cuteness, so he shall be decked out in a tiny man suit and a small purple bow tie. The suit I have under control -- but since I'm fairly sure they do not want him to show up wearing sneakers with his dress clothes, I decided that yesterday we needed to do some shoe shopping.

Laylee went next door to play with a neighbor friend so Magoo and I could have a special date to go shopping for exciting things just for him. He was a bit miffed about being left out of the playdate fun, but felt certain that we'd have a great time together shopping for magical Magoolish items and probably rolling around in ice cream.

I am just wrapping up a week at the beach with my family. I mean cousins, aunts, nephews, my brother and my sister and her family. We had roughly twenty people in one house, and you could not take a step without bumping into someone you were related to. I would love to tell you it was too chaotic to be enjoyable, but the truth of the matter is that I love being surrounded by the people I love. The kids look forward to it every year, too.

It got me thinking about what makes a family. Is it the group of people you grew up with and started your life’s journey with, or is it the family you have created with the person you married? Is it the people you love but don’t see often, or is it the people you pick up the phone to call when you need a shoulder to cry on? I have discovered that the answer is "all of the above."

One of the best things about living in this part of the country is that we get to fully experience all four seasons.

One of the worst things about living in this part of the country is that we get to fully experience all four seasons. One of those seasons is called “summer”, though I’m suggesting that, in the name of accuracy, we should rename this season to The Fiery Bowels Of The Hottest Furnace You’ve Ever Seen. While I’m normally pretty tolerant of hot weather, this summer is especially toasty. We’ve even made the national news in recent weeks as part of a “Heat Advisory”. That’s fancy meteorologist talk for “GET YOURSELF BACK INSIDE THE HOUSE.”

In case we haven’t yet met, my name is Maggie [pasty white girl] and I am married to Phillip [The Devastatingly Handsome Chinese Man] and we have two small children, Jackson and Molly [half Caucasian, half Chinese, who don't look like their parents OR each other.] Here they are:

Jack and Molly welcome their Internet Stalkers!

I love to camp. I grew up camping with my family and loving *almost* every minute of it. (There were those few times I had to use the potty in the night and was terrified of bears, rabid squirrels or intoxicated campers I might encounter.) We spent a lot of time planning our trips and some of my happiest childhood memories are camping with my family, even driving in the car to get to our camping destinations. That’s where we bonded, out in nature away from the distractions of home.

Dan does not so much love the camping. Dan camps because he loves me. We’ve gone a few times as a family and always managed to have cold or rainy weather and at least one crying baby along for the ride. Maybe I tried to start the tradition too soon. Maybe the kids are too young and maybe I should have waited until the absolute blazing hottest day of summer. I enjoy it even when it’s cold but Dan holds a grudge against the weather. I keep trying and I feel certain that once we get it right, Dan will be hooked on camping just like my family was.

We ate a hearty lunch of pizza at the pool today. When we were done, I closed the pizza box and reapplied the sunscreen just as slowly as I could. The natives were restless and wanted me to hurry, but we had to take our time, I explained -- “because if you swim too soon after eating, you’ll get sick.”

Why did I say that? Is this really an epidemic of such proportions that mothers of every generation find it worthy of mention? Are there really ambulance drivers squealing into the pool parking lots all over this nation to pick up little Teddy because he jumped in the water before his corn dog was fully digested?

I am going home.

Tomorrow, my daughter and I will fly south to Miami, to visit family and build sand castles on Miami Beach.

I always day dream about palm trees, big puffy clouds and the calming sound of surf for days before we leave. From all these miles away, I can taste the thick, sweet Cuban coffee and the Colombian arepas I love so much. Going home makes me happy.

I keep a list of Things I Knew About Parenting Before I Was A Parent. Things like nap schedules. Obviously the parents whose lives revolve around the nap schedule are letting their children run (and ruin!) their lives. But then I became a parent and understood that you don't have a nap schedule because your child runs your life, you have a nap schedule because if you don't, you will die. Or things like toys. How do parents stand all those awful noisy plastic toys? Why are there so many of them? Why can't they hide them in another room? And then I became a parent and found out how much fun it is to watch your child play with and learn from and discover toys, especially noisy plastic ones. And good luck finding places for them because everyone else loves to give your kid toys too.

My list keeps me humble and warns me not to spout off too much in front of other people who know everything about parenting but have yet to become parents. Besides, two years later I'm still crossing things off. I've recently decided that the Toy Principle also applies to vacations. I think I've mentioned here before that we were thinking of road tripping to Colorado, home of my nephews, a handful of old and beloved friends and one fabulous blogger I hoped to meet in person. We told ourselves we were very excited about this trip, except whenever one of us brought it up, the other was somewhat less than excited to talk about it. The drive felt long and difficult and unknown. And the days we'd actually spend with family and friends felt... long and difficult and unknown. I mean, the schedule is hard enough to keep at home, let alone planning around other families with small children. What if we drove all that way just to sit around in other people's living rooms?

When I told Dan about my recent experience shopping at Costco observing old ladies and the way they interact with children, he said, “Yeah. It sounds like they’re a lot like people, only older.” His observation is correct. They are a lot like people but with their advanced age comes a sort of magnification of what I would categorize as typical responses to stimuli.

The elderly ladies I crossed paths with at Costco could be sorted into 3 basic categories, The Shocked, The Chagrinned and The Perpetual Grandma. Of course there were several women who seemed completely uninterested in me or my family but I will not discuss them here.

First, The Easily Shocked. The Easily Shocked sort of walk around minding their own business. They have shopping to do and samples to taste and they seem to be concentrating very hard on the tasks at hand. Then suddenly for apparently no reason one of my children will momentarily raise his voice, giggle loudly or move quickly within the visual range of The Easily Shocked. She will flinch visibly and step away from the action. Her wide eyes and raised eyebrows will signal alarm and you will get the feeling from her facial expression that she has never seen a child before or at least cannot remember it.