Yes, I'm watching the royal wedding this morning. Well, I'll be recording it this morning, since work and taking Mira to preschool will be cutting into my royal TV time.

I know some people can't wait for the wedding to be over with, but I'm giddy with excitement. Truth is, when storks were dropping off babies in the 70's, my stork clearly read the address wrong and brought me to Ohio when I should have been delivered to some family in the British Isles.

I've been an anglophile for many, many years, appreciating nearly everything about the British people, culture and government. I spent a summer in London in college, and during my time there I felt more "at-home" with my surroundings than I ever have in my life. I considered skipping my flight home to pursue citizenship, but came to my senses when I realized I had no money and still no college degree yet. I left that country vowing to return again someday.

When Diana Spencer walked down the aisle to become Princess Diana? I watched it. I was proud that her first-born son, William, was born on my birthday. (Although a few years later than me.) During my time in England, I lived in a dorm in Kensington and remember playing soccer on the green just outside of Diana's primary residence, Kensington Palace.

Many years later, when Diana was in the car accident that took her life, I watched the story unfold on CNN. I wished and prayed that she would survive, and then sobbed when they announced that she had died. I watched her funeral from start to finish, stunned that this stunningly beautiful humanitarian - a woman who used her power and influence to bring notice to those who suffered and needed help - would be taken from us so young.

And now her son is marrying his college sweetheart, and I couldn't be happier for them. The royal family may seem like an out-of-place establishment in the modern world, but I think it still has relevance. They provide a living connection to the history and very nature of their culture. And as I've often joked, a monarch that is groomed from the beginning for their role in the government (even if it is a very minor role now) provides stability and continuity that I often feel is lacking in our constantly rotating parade of politicians in the United States. Prime Ministers may come and go, but they have the benefit of seeking advice from the one person who has seen the government through many changes and is well-educated on the topic.

(I don't want to get into an argument over which government system is better or calling for a return to the feudal monarchy system - I'm just pointing out that there are some advantages to a constitutional monarchy.)

Anyway, I'm looking forward to the wedding. I can't wait to see demonstrations of the history, ceremony and style of the British people, but even more, it's about the pleasure of seeing the genuine happiness of two people who love each other very much making the ultimate commitment to each other.
And to get in the spirit, Mira is already practicing her royal stiff upper-lip while wearing her tiara. She's available for any discussions of betrothal contracts with princes who like trains and can promise her lots of dresses and a pink castle.

Formal portrait of HRH Miranda of Ohio

As a young child, I loved to swim. On more than one occasion the words "like a fish" were used in discussing my love for the water. I spent my summers at our local community pool, practicing flips and handstands in the shallow waters, and fetching pennies from the pool floor of the five-foot deep area.

I remember one time I was at a party, and the hosts happened to have a pool. All of the kids were in bathing suits, swimming and playing with various pool toys. I don't remember the details, but at one point one of the preschoolers had thrown some plastic beach-type toys in the deep end of the pool, where they rested under ten feet of water.

I think one of them asked if I could get the toys. Or maybe I just volunteered myself, since I liked helping others and was quite confident in my swimming ability. Either way, I was the foolish kid (I couldn't have been more than eight years old or so) going to the bottom of the pool.

Never having learned to dive properly, I stood on the edge of the pool, pinched my nose shut, and jumped in feet first, using the momentum to help me sink a few feet into the pool before orienting myself head down and kicking my legs furiously to reach the bottom. Ten feet felt a lot further than I thought it would be.

Once at the bottom, I gathered up the plastic toys, pushed off from the floor and kicked back towards the light.

If you hear my grandmother tell this story, you'd think I nearly drowned. I know I scared her pretty badly. I'm not sure how long I was down there, but it was long enough to worry the adults at the party. When she told the story years later, I laughed it off and said I had it all under control.

The truth, however? I've never been so close to drowning in my life as I was in the pool that day.

The deepest pool I had ever been in was eight feet of water. Ten was really pushing my limits. By the time I reached the bottom, I realized I needed to get back up quickly. But I wasn't going to look like a failure, so I made sure to grab those toys.

As I pushed off from the floor, I could already feel my legs were weakening. Looking up, I could see the light reflecting off the top of the pool, but it felt so, so far away. How did it get so far away?

I kept kicking my legs, but my chest was on fire. My lungs were nearly collapsing in a reflexive effort to take a breath, yet I kept my nose pinched and mouth clamped shut. I was focused on getting to the surface, even though the light at the top looked a little darker and I started to feel lightheaded.

I lost the grip on my nose as my lungs forced air out and I started to panic that I wouldn't reach the top in time. It was just as water was starting to come into my mouth that I broke the surface, spitting out the water as I gasped for air.

Clinging to the side of the pool, I weakly offered up the toys to their owners and smiled as my heart pounded. Nope, not going to look like a failure today.

I still remember some of the details of that event for a few reasons. First, I'm actually still very scared of drowning, even though I love water. And second, because I think on how many times in my life I've nearly (figuratively) drowned because I didn't want to look like a failure.

Taking on too much is commonplace for me. Like Ado Annie from the musical Oklahoma, I "cain't say no." I never want to miss an opportunity, and I never want anyone to think less of me, so I will often agree to do far more than I'm capable of. Problem is, I then find myself at the bottom of that ten-foot pool, wondering how I'll make it to the top without running out of air.

I look around at other working mothers and wonder how they do it, only to realize that either they're better at saying 'no' to all of the requests on their time, or they're smiling on the outside while panicking on the inside, just like me. Only they make it look far easier than I do.

One day I hope I can come to terms with the reality that I'm not superwoman, I can't do it all, and occasionally I do fail miserably. That sometimes you don't have to be the hero: you can instead hang out in the shallow end sipping a martini while your kids splash around you and let someone better suited to the job  - someone who has practically no chance of drowning - dive to the bottom of the pool.

I remember when I was in high school and saw a report on the news about the concept of year-round schooling instead of the traditional school year with a long summer break. I was horrified at the idea of having to go to school all year long! I needed that long break from the classroom. Winter break hardly was long enough. Even that one little week of spring break felt like an insult to me.

And now, as a parent with two young children on spring break? Year round school sounds pretty sweet to me. In fact, let's get rid of spring break, too.

We're only halfway through spring break and I'm ready to send them back. It doesn't help that I work an overnight shift, requiring me to either find a babysitter or remain on the couch in a sleepy, hazy fog as I let them destroy the living room and watch far too many episodes of Go, Diego, Go while I try to nap in-between arguments over who gets to sit in the purple chair or who gets to play on the iPad next.

Beyond that, both of my children are creatures of habit who do not like their routines disrupted. Mira isn't too bad, but Cordy needs her routine. She knows that she has five days of school, followed by two days that are more unstructured. So when Monday arrived and she was on day three of no school routine, she quickly became irritable, hyperactive and whiny. The most exciting thing we did that day was go to the grocery, and even that was a quick trip for fear of child meltdown. The cashier didn't even card me when I bought wine. He knew.

My mom came over yesterday to spend the day with the girls, and of course the weather was wet and cold, so they stayed in and colored eggs for Easter. If it wasn't for my earplugs, I probably wouldn't have had any sleep.

The weather is better today and my mom is coming again (hooray!!) to take them to the zoo. (Double hooray!!) I'm looking forward to sleeping six hours.

Friday, however, will be devoted to my girls. Whatever they want to do, we'll do. (Within reason, of course.) I feel bad that I'm so tired most of the time and can't give them the attention they deserve. My mom worked full time, also, and I remember always wanting more time from her than she could give me. When I lose my temper with Cordy or Mira just because I'm tired, I get angry with myself as well because I know that they only want my time. Time is so hard to come by, though.

But I don't work on Friday night, so I'll fight the exhaustion to have a fantastic day with my daughters and remember why I love having them around so much.

And then I'll sign them up for summer camp on Monday.

When I graduated from high school, family and friends all asked the same question that every university-bound teen is asked: "What will you be majoring in at college?"

I'll admit that they were disappointed when I told them elementary education, or maybe liberal arts.

At my graduation party, there were a lot of whispered conversations between my relatives and my mom. "But why THAT?" "She's selling herself short." "She's got so much potential in other areas."

And then my mom: "I know. But I can't force her."

Everyone expected me to become a scientist. Or maybe a doctor. Anything related to the sciences, really. Truth is, I was a whiz at math and science.

Math (other than geometry, which I still have problems with) was a breeze, and even my math teacher was impressed at my speed with calculus proofs. The math award was given out to one senior each year who had the highest math grade for all four years of high school, and that year I was the recipient.

Science was equally simple as long as I avoided physics. (Geometry getting in the way again.) I scored a perfect score on the science portion of the ACT. Chemistry equations were like a second language to me. Some classmates considered me a snob for not helping them balance chemistry equations, but it wasn't that I didn't want to help them - I just couldn't really explain how I did it. I'd try to explain, they'd still be confused, and then at some point the phrase "It's easy to see" would slip out of my mouth and they'd storm away.

Yep, I was the perfect nerd: good at math and science, poor at sports, and socially awkward. You can guess how many parties I got invited to, and chess club doesn't count.

But back to college: I wasn't interested in being a scientist, and becoming a doctor sounded like it would take forever and be boring. I wanted a new challenge, so of course I jumped right into areas where I often did poorly, beginning with elementary education (I wasn't good with kids), then switching my major to theatre (yes, I have panic attacks on stage) and finally ending with a BA in History, which happened to be my "worst" subject in high school. I didn't switch majors because I found the others hard - I simply wasn't as interested and kept trying to find my passion. Or maybe I only wanted to pursue topics that were hard for me.

Of course, a degree in history isn't very useful if you don't pursue graduate school, and after one quarter of a dull graduate school experience, I quit. I had a natural talent in technology, so I worked for several years as a technical writer for e-learning courses. My abilities in the sciences came in handy for that job.

I've since gone back to school and have that science degree in nursing. I think my family is a little more accepting of my career at this point, if only because my job options are a little more secure. And while I resented their opinions in high school, I'm lucky that I grew up surrounded by successful women who believed that a girl could do well in science. I never experienced any expectations based on gender other than their hopes that I wouldn't let gender stereotypes hold me back.

As the mother of two daughters now, I can already see their strengths emerging. Cordy has a natural ability with patterns and numbers, while Mira is curious about the world around her and wants to know how everything works. I'll continue to encourage them in learning about their world, embracing technology, and developing a love for science, just as I was encouraged as a child.

And if they want to pursue degrees in art and classical mythology someday? I'll try to remind the relatives that they're free to do what they want.

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This post was inspired by my friend David Wescott and his call to bring together mom bloggers and science bloggers for his #scimom project. If you want to join in, go visit his blog and learn how!

On Saturday, I officially became a soccer mom.

My inauguration was supposed to be the week before, but a brief case of food poisoning kept Cordy from making it to the first practice.

Cordy has been interested in soccer since she was two years old. She's always loved kicking the ball around the backyard, head down, focused on having her foot make contact with the ball. For all of her lack of coordination, she's surprisingly good at kicking a ball.

Signing her up for a soccer league is something I've been considering for some time, but I've been plagued by a lot of doubts every time I get close to doing so. She doesn't like a lot of loud noises, and she certainly doesn't like cheering. Coping with losing is not a strong point for her. She's not very focused on group activities, preferring anything she can do alone instead.

But this year I've been getting some positive reports from school that made me think that now was the right time. Her teacher e-mailed me last month and said that Cordy learned to play kickball and was now playing with the other kids at recess. She then e-mailed me another day to let me know Cordy scored a home run kick that day. And then the next e-mail stated that the principal taught Cordy how to pitch the ball for kickball, and she can now pitch for her team! I was honestly shocked that she had become so interested in a group sport.

I still didn't feel comfortable with signing her up for a soccer group, until I learned about a local soccer league for special-needs kids. The league is for all ages (they separate the kids into age-appropriate groups), and the focus is on simply doing your best and having fun. Each child received their own uniform, and there are lots of volunteers to help guide the kids and keep them motivated.

When I took Cordy to her first practice, she really didn't want to go. "But mommy, my team will lose!"

"You don't know that, Cordy. You might win. And either way, you'll have fun."

"But I might lose, too. I don't wanna lose."

Her anxiety was high when we got to the indoor soccer facility, made even worse by seeing the image of a flaming soccer ball on the outside of the building. ("Why is that soccer ball on fire? Will we get burned in there? I don't want to catch on fire!") As I checked her in and got her uniform, she stood off to the side pacing and hopping, looking uneasy.

I took her to the bathroom to change into her uniform, answering questions about what she was going to do and why she had to wear the uniform. I decided to skip the shin guards completely - strapping something tight around her lower legs probably wouldn't go over well at the moment. Once she was dressed, it was like a switch flipped. "Mama, I look like a real soccer player!"

I took her to her assigned field, where several kids were already kicking balls around. Cordy took one look at all the balls and ran right in, eager to kick as many balls as she could.

Soon it was time for practice, and all of the balls except for one were removed from the area. The coach led the kids in some stretches and warmups, which Cordy mostly participated in. Then half the kids put on blue tank tops while the others kept their yellow shirts only to separate them into two teams. The rules were explained, and off they went!

The first goal was made by Cordy's team. She ran right over to me, shouting, "I won! I scored a goal!" I reminded her that it was only one goal, and there was a lot more of the game to play. (I decided not to point out that she wasn't the one who scored the goal, either. She wasn't anywhere near the ball that time.)

The second attempt resulted in a goal for the other team. Cordy again came over to me, this time looking sad, and said, "We lost, mama. I want to go home now." A little more encouragement, and she was back out with the other kids again. If she planned to do this each time, it was going to be a long, emotionally draining hour.

Cordy did fairly well on the field. She didn't like to get in close with other kids, and so she wasn't good at going after the ball. But when the ball happened her way, she often gave it a powerful kick to send it back down to the other end of the field, leaving others on her team to score the goal.

About 40 minutes in, Cordy started begging to go home. She was tired and didn't want to play anymore because the other team kept scoring. I reminded her that kids who stayed for the full hour got a snack, and that was enough motivation for her to finish out the practice.

While I would have been worried about her behavior in another soccer league, in this group she fit right in. Other kids had meltdowns, didn't want to go near the ball, kicked it the wrong way, picked it up with their hands, or just sat down on the field and refused to move. And the parents just cheered them on and provided encouragement.

No one though twice if a child had to leave for a few minutes to calm down. Parents were allowed out on the field to help their child if needed. It was a supportive environment filled with love for our kids, ending with all of the parents standing side by side in two lines, putting their arms up to form a "tunnel" for the kids to run through while the parents cheered and told them what a good job they did.

After we got home, Cordy told me that she had fun and wants to go back again next week. I'm hoping this will be a good introduction to group sports, and perhaps if she does well in this league, we can try her in a more competitive league in the future.

I've said it several times: I hate money.

I hate that so many people never seem to have enough of it, and that many people who have more than enough of it don't want to help out that first group.

But I mostly hate trying to manage my own money.

There was a time when money management was easy. That time was the pre-kids golden era. Aaron and I both worked great jobs and so our bank accounts were always fairly healthy. We also had plenty of free time, so I spent a lot of that free time tracking our money in various software programs and spreadsheets. I loved seeing where every penny went. Most bills were scheduled or paid immediately and the credit cards were carefully managed.

Post-kids, though, money management has been a little harder. I don't have time to keep track of every penny anymore. (I try, though.) The number of bills I have to keep track of has tripled, too, with daycare expenses, pediatrician's bills, etc. And with various lower paying jobs, layoffs and unemployment we've both endured over the past four years, the income hasn't always been enough to meet needs.

Paying bills and tracking money were fun when there was plenty to play with. I loved seeing the cute bar graphs and pie graphs of where our money went and seeing trends over time. When I had to stare at much smaller numbers that didn't match up in simple addition and subtraction equations, though, it wasn't fun anymore. It was completely depressing, actually.

I'm the keeper of the accounts in our house, and I've often felt like the big meanie when telling Aaron or the kids that we couldn't afford some purchase or trip they wanted. It's not like I was denying only their wants: they didn't hear me telling myself "no" on a daily basis to things I wanted as well. Wait - forget past tense - I still tell myself "no" on a daily basis. I've become so good at it that I've been told I'm impossible to shop for, because I don't want anything. (Soooo not true, but I guess I keep my wants hidden well.)

I can see how money is a top reason for couples to separate. You fight more when you don't have enough money just from the stress of the situation. Aaron and I have had plenty of arguments about money, and even more that had nothing to do with money on the surface, but were probably caused by our stress over money.

The good news for us is that our financial situation has improved over the past year. While I'm still not finished with our taxes yet (Note to self: seriously? You're usually done by February 3! Get on it!) I am seeing that we're in a higher tax bracket in 2010, and I'm OK with that. Yes, I actually wrote I'm OK with paying more taxes. 

Our financial situation was so miserable in 2009 that the government paid us back what little we had paid into taxes and gave us a nice chunk extra in addition - sort of a "Wow, we're sorry your year sucked so much. Here - we'll pretend you're a smaller version of General Electric and give you a little boost for all of those deductions." That's the first time I've ever experienced a net gain on my tax forms.

Paying more into taxes for 2010 is no big deal to me, honestly - we made more money last year, and so we should pay more into the system. After all, it was that system that helped us through our rough period of unemployment, when we relied on unemployment compensation, Medicaid for our children, food assistance and WIC to help our family keep the roof over our heads. Without it and help from our families, we likely would have been yet another foreclosure statistic.

But just because we have more income now doesn't mean I'm back to looking at our financial situation with a smile. The past few years left a huge, ugly bruise on our finances. Our credit cards were often used as a last-ditch solution when we couldn't afford gas, food or some unexpected auto or home repair. I went back to school in 2007 and used student loans to get another degree. The mountain of debt only grew higher and higher until we stood in its shadow, hoping it wouldn't topple on us.

I just paid off our car loan at the end of March - ten months ahead of time, too. I needed to pay it off early because our older car, after nearly 190K miles, is getting closer and closer to its final rest. We will need a new car soon. But the money I was paying to the car loan each month is now shifted to the credit cards, and I hope to have one card paid off in the next few months. I also try to put a little money in savings each paycheck. If we can keep this trend going, we might be able to breathe a little easier every time we find a bill in our mailbox.

*Knocking on wood furiously at this point so no unexpected doom befalls us. You hear me, fate?  I'm knocking loudly with both hands, and I made sure it was real hardwood, not wood laminate! I know how you work.*

I still don't consider myself the most responsible person when it comes to money, but I'll add that I definitely get effort points for trying. At this point, I think I'm doing the best I can. Actions that could improve our situation would be having my job move from contract to permanent, and Aaron finding a job that was more permanent. (He's working on a short-term contract at the moment.) Overall, though, I think we're moving in the right direction.

What about you? Have your finances suffered from the recession, and if so, how are you coping? Any money management tips you want to share with all of us?