Krispy Kreme Warm Day

Today. What a day. When you live in upstate NY and the weather forecast calls for temperatures in the 70's in March that is truly cause for celebration. Even after a mild winter such as the one we have had, by March, many of us have gone the route of winter weary nonetheless, and are searching for the sun. Today, we didn't really get much sun, but it was warm from the start. I walked into my classroom and immediately opened the window. Even at 7:45 am, the temperatures were demonstrating equivalence, just like the fractions in my math lesson would later in the day. Throughout the day, kids were on the playground, birds were in the sky, and both sounds floated into my classroom and created an ambient noise we had replaced with the ticking and blowing of a heating unit, for so, so long. A de-thawing began today, and continued when I got home. Even though I had a glorious box of fresh fund raiser Krispy Kreme doughnuts in my hand, Tim and I changed and headed down the road, with Lucy, to walk on the beach. Balancing through the shoreline rocks, and then walking on the sand before climbing up on the pier, it truly felt as if spring, and summer, and freedom were within reach.

Now, living in upstate NY, we also know full well that March is fickle, and that more bad weather could be on the way, but I will take the gift of today. It was a treat. And as for tomorrow, it is going to rain. But it will still be warm, and I still have a (fairly) full box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts.

Snow Day/Baking Day

Well, five minutes ago I was peaceful in the living room, reading, and listening to my two children working in the kitchen. Gwynn is trying to teach Devin how to bake bread. They have old 90's alternative music playing, and five minutes ago, things sounded OK. Now there is some yelling going on, as she is not the best teacher, and he is not the best student, but I am just staying out here. In the end, she is the baker, he will defer. "Don't kill the yeast!" "God you are so SHAKY!" I am not sure I ever thought motherhood would be like this. I grew up in a house where I was merely a spectator in the kitchen, and I never wanted to cook, or bake, at all, but they do this stuff all the time. They are very self sufficient, and capable, in so many ways that I was not as I headed out on my own. I suppose in some ways, I did some stuff right.

It is funny, as there is an awful lot of reflection in my life right now. I have not been writing much, but it's because I am full of question, full of "wonder what's next," and completely in the moment, but it's a moment of not really knowing where life is headed. I don't have many clear crisp thoughtful thoughts, because I don't really know. I don't know if what we are doing these days is the right stuff, but it's the first time I've faced launching my first child into the world, so the jury will have to be out for a while. Life is at a change point, and for me to write, often, I am better at reflection, not projection.

Still, today, with a surprise of a snowday, I am content. I am snowed in, reading, and listening to my kids making their own mess. I suppose much of life in the next years will be filled with the same. Life is messy, but life is a great adventure. This year one leaves the nest, but so soon they will both be out there; on their own, making their messes, cleaning them up. I've equipped them, perhaps mostly by allowing them their space. I kind of hate saying this, but I am at my best as a mom when I stay a little more out of their way. I will be around for them still, for a long time, I know, but their lives are starting to be more theirs than mine. Motherhood has been one way for me, for 18 years next month, but now it's on to the next phase.

Today, 18 years ago, in my ninth month of my first pregnancy, I am certain I did not give any thought at all about how motherhood would be at this point. I was so wrapped up in diapers, and sleep schedules, and the upcoming year of milestone and firsts. And now I suppose we're on to more firsts, and wrapped up as I could be in them as well, they are not mine, they are theirs. It's the time for the proverbial wings. No, I am not sure I ever thought motherhood would be like this, but I do think I am glad for how it is turning out.

Over the Shoulder in Love

I have never been a fan of Face Time. Gwynn uses it all the time, to talk to Ellie, and I peek over her shoulder, and say hi to my beautiful teenage niece, but then I duck away. I am only supposed to be a quick blip in the conversation, anyways, and I also find myself feeling awkward. I wonder about how horrid I look, where to look on the screen, whether my nose looks even bigger than it does in real life. But tonight, due to the wonder of Face Time, I got to see my brand new baby niece, Agnes, and it was amazing. A word I do not love, for sure, but one very much fitting to this moment. Scott sent me a picture, of Mom and Dad fawning over her in the hospital. I replied that it was so nice, but that I was a little lonely, and SO jealous. Then he suggested it, he Face Timed me in, and I "got it."

Suddenly I became a BIG Face Time fan.

Sweet little Agnes, born just a little over 24 hours ago, but filling up that phone screen, made me feel like I was there, in that hospital room. I really, kinda, sorta, was. I got to "Oooh!" and "Ahhh!" with everyone over her hair, and her long graceful fingers. Mom unwrapped her and I saw her round little belly, and her delicate toes. I got to put in my two cents about who she looks like, at least for the right now. I got to tell a couple of funny stories about how we are taking in the news, up here in Fair Haven; about the excitement of having another member in our tiny, wonderful family, about the fact that Devin has already chosen a nickname for her. And to top it off, I got to snap a few screen shots. A couple are particularly funny too, looking a bit like those creepy Sears photos from the 70's where you'd have a front facing portrait of someone, and then a sideways portrait of the same person superimposed over their shoulder. Except this time it was my little brother, holding his little daughter, with me, superimposed, in a Face Time box, up and over his shoulder. Yeah, a little bit creepy, and a little bit AWESOME! Baby book material for sure!

Yes, after a long day, and with a bit of a cold coming on, it was just me and the dog, home alone tonight. Tim was coaching a football game. Devin and Gwynn were with friends at the Homecoming soccer games. But suddenly, and thanks to Face Time, I was not alone. I was with my family. I was meeting my newest niece.

Welcome to the world, Agnes. I love you already.

Summer Mosiac

"Woah, We're Half Way There" - Written 7/27

Mid-Summer it is. And I have to say, it is my notorious happy/sad time. It is the time I realize we are half done with our summer time off, and I have to wallow in that for a few days. Then I realize that half done still means half to go, and I better start to pick myself up, plan some things out, and keep on enjoying myself. This year it is particularly difficult, though, with our trip through Great Britain behind us. It was truly an epic adventure. It was in planning stages for a long time. It was two weeks of wonderful, and new, and wow around each and every corner. And now, it is over, and that is kind of a tough pill to swallow. I have read that planning trips far in advance is a good thing to do, not only economically, but also from a mental health standpoint. Apparently you gain more from the anticipation and build up to a trip than you do from the after effects. I bet that is really true. Most of our big trips the last several years have been over April break. We would spend a lot of time dreaming off and planning ahead in the cold months of February and March. We'd get all excited, have a great trip, then just throw ourselves back into work, still basking in a travel glow, but busy again, getting back to life, and back to reality. A summer trip, at least for teachers, doesn't happen that way, since, once you get home, the back to life back to reality only really consists of doing the laundry and putting away the suitcases. That work thing it isn't there to distract you from the fact that you are missing your adventures. You have plenty of time to chat about all you did, peruse your pictures, look up recipes for things you ate, pin on Pinterest places you went, or trips you envisioned for the future while you were there. You can read book set in towns you visited. You can watch Harry Potter films yelling out "we were there!" to your heart's content. But deep down, your heart never really is content. Sure, if you are a traveler, your heart is happy and full, but it is also sad, and nostalgic for days spent wandering, learning, growing ,jumping on and off trains, and wondering what was around the next turn. Well, our trip was part of our first half of summer this year, and it was wonderful. And I am curious if I will ever be able to process all of it. But that half is done, and it is time to move on. On to summer 2015 part two. On to more adventures. May they never, ever, end.

The End is Near, The End is Here - Written 8/27

I have barely written this summer, and I am not sure what to make of that. Perhaps, just like my previous blog, "Thirtysomething, Farewell..." had a shelf life, this one does as well? I have been on this format for 4 and a half years...writing an average of once or twice a month. That's not too bad, but really, maybe in this blog, I've said what I wanted to say. It truly functions not only as writing that I can share with others, and as a place I can share my thoughts, but also as a quasi-journal for me. And, when I look back, I see patterns of life oh so clearly. I see that I am always crazy at the beginning of the school year, always thankful around November, always reflective at the close of June, sad at the close of August. It is good therapy in that way I suppose, and certainly a helpful road map for the people who have to live with me. But really, 4-5 years of that is, perhaps, enough.

But that begs the question, what next?

Maybe it is just that. After all, "What next?" is a lot of what I am feeling right now, anyways. There are the typical questions rolling in my head, wondering what does the school year hold. But I'd say that this particular year, with Devin being a senior, the what next feeling is particularly pronounced. It is inconceivable to even think of how life will be different at this exact time next year, but in fact, it will be. And while that is super exciting, it is super terrifying as well. So much will happen, I know that for sure. I just hope to be able to stay on top of it all, and at the same time, take it all in. I hope I am able to be in the moments, as they come. I hope to be sad less, and to enjoy it all more. All remains to be seen, and with all of that change going on, I am sure my writing practice will stay pretty much the same. And that is probably good. Like every parent of a high school senior, we are surely in for a rollercoaster of a wild ride this year. You enjoy a roller coaster because of its ups and downs. And while you survive a roller coaster by holding on, I think that you enjoy a coaster a little more when you let go. When you loosen your grip on the safety bar, and MAYBE even throw your hands up in the air, the ride takes you where it wants you to go, and physics helps you move with the machine. There are times I will need to HOLD ON this year, there will be times for me to LET GO, and if this, perhaps finite, writing place can help me through that, more power to it. Onward. Upward. And for right now at least, holding on.

Fresh Start Fridge

So I know that summer has begun, as I am cleaning out the refrigerator. Yeah, I know, it is probably something I should do more regularly, and don't get me wrong, I throw out perishables and such each week prior to grocery shopping, but I mean the take everything out, wipe down the shelves kind of cleaning. That screams school's out to me, and that's what I'm doing today.

Let me fill you in a little on my evolution in refrigerator cleanliness. We moved into our house in February of 1997, and had a new to us, clean refrigerator. At that time, I don't even know that my 26 year old, had only lived in dorms and apartments, self really even knew you had to clean out a fridge. Being homeowners and all, we moved on to the next step in real life adulthood, and I got pregnant for Devin in June of that year. He was born in March of 1998, and my mom came to stay for the week. Along with talking me down, and teaching me how to care for a newborn, she cleaned my fridge. We had Gwynn three years later, almost to the day, and mom came again, and she cleaned the fridge again. And honestly, I don't know if it had been cleaned between the two births. Go ahead and judge, I don't care. They are alive, and so are we, so really, was it a problem?

Well, Gwynn was our last kid, and although mom, and dad, came to visit a lot, it was never for a whole week, and somewhere along the way I realized that I was either going to have to have another kid, or learn to clean my own refrigerator. I am glad with the choice I made.

Now, I am older, I have learned a bit, and when you know better you do better as Oprah always says. I'd say I clean out the fridge maybe twice a year, but this summer one always gets me. It is often the first task of summer. It just feels like a good place to start. And I find all kinds of treasures that remind me of the year gone by. There's an old jar of capers, that surely made the cut last time I cleaned, but now, their Sharpie date of 9/14 is a little past due, being from the very first month of school and all. There is red pepper spread that I discovered on a lengthy shopping trip in the fall, and cooked up with chicken. Thinking it'd be great on a sandwich too, I tucked the leftover in the fridge, but when it is shoved to the back on the bottom shelf, there is little hope. I find a Bud Light with Lime, on its side, and rolled to the back on the bottom as well. I furtively drink it as I finish my task, not wanting to take the flack from my Craft Beer hubby, but also because I feel a little guilty having a beer at 12:30 on a Friday.

But then, I sit down for a couple of minutes, and realize it is summer. It is anything goes time. It is time off time. And I stop my task for a while, and finish my beer out on the newly built deck. Drinking it, and the potential in...not of the beer, it is actually pretty bad...but of the two months ahead, I realize how happy I truly am.

All that, from a little GreenWorks and some paper towels.
Maybe I should clean more often.
Welcome Summer 2015.

Luncheon With Lucy

Lucy and I are both Ok with a sunny Monday off, it seems. I had both am and pm doctor appointments, so a full day off was completely legit and guilt free. It has been the nicest day. I have relaxed, and have actually had some time to write, both here and on a work in progress. I got some errands done, did some house work, and have just plain relaxed. Doctor stuff always stresses me out, and I will delay and delay and delay getting something taken care of, for eight million and one reasons. I hope the next time I am doing that I, instead, think back on today, and just schedule something that will both be good for me, and work for me.

Mondays are tough for all of us work a day folk, but I have been thinking today about how Sundays are Lucy's hectic days. On our road, in the summertime and on the weekends particularly, there is a dramatic uptick in traffic, both car and foot. And our Lucy must spend her long days barking at passers by, with a ferocity I just can never really understand. I mean we hardly live in a high crime area. But today, she has been outside the entire time I have been home, just laid out in the sun, and hardly lifting her head when something, or someone goes by. I just had lunch on the patio in the sun myself, and she sat at attention for a while, surely hoping something might come her way, but when nothing did, she went prone again. She seemed happy just to be there, on the warm brick, the two of us, together.

It's back to work tomorrow for me, of course, but I hope I can keep "Monday Lucy"'s zen in mind. I may not be able to nap while the kids move around me, but a mellow approach to Tuesday might be just what the doctor ordered.

Going Strong

So, Tim gave me some roses, the day before Valentine's Day, which was also the start of our February Break from school. Today is the final day of that break, and I have to say, I am amazed that those roses are still going strong. Other things these days seem to require a substantial bit of work, patience, and maintenance, but those roses are just sitting there, looking pretty, and I am so appreciative of them for the message they send me. Every time I walk by them there's a little jolt, a little reminder, that life is beautiful, life is just fine.

At the beginning of this break, we were so excited to be heading off on a little mini trip, a just the two of us trip, to a beautiful romantic hotel, with a fireplace, and a jacuzzi, in the old town area of Montreal. The week before break, though, I was shot, tired, feeling like crap. I went to bed at 8pm one night, feeling achey in particular on my right side. I woke up the next day with a tell tale rash wrapped around my torso. I had shingles. Seriously. Who does that? Well, me apparently. The stress of life got to me, and broke out right along my side. I went to the doctor, had the rash confirmed, and got started on some meds.

Needless to say, disappointment set in as I was rather uncomfortable, certainly feeling unattractive, and semi down for the count due to medication side effects. Our trip was off. We still sent the kids off to stay with their grandparents for a few days, but we ended up just staying home. Not in a romantic hideaway out of the country, but at home, again, on a "stay-cation," which was exactly what we wanted to avoid. We have had so much stress over our house the last 6 months, through a remodel, decorating, and tweaking things that pop up, that we just wanted to escape it. We wanted to run away from the stress, but the stress found us, nailed us down, and forced us to face the place that has been driving us a little bit mad.

Our "stay-cation" started out, and we slept a lot, both of us. We slept away illness, and medication, and we slept away stress. We both slept, we both recharged. We watched a LOT of Netflix. And when I was feeling better, we did get out and adventure a bit. We didn't cook. We let restaurants do that for dinner, and we ate the leftovers on the couch the next day, with a little more Netflix.

Ed Sheeran's new album kind of was a backdrop soundtrack, and one day, listening to the song "Thinking Out Loud," I found myself taking in the lyrics ..."we found love right where we are"...I realized what a truth it is. We faced a big old bummer, but made the most of it. And you know, when I look back, this was really one of the nicest breaks we have ever had. We had time for ourselves and we didn't overdo it, we didn't make it more than it needed to be. We just had a break. The kids did too. And going back to school and work tomorrow doesn't sound all that bad to me. I'm rested, healed. We, and I, like those roses, are going strong.

Thoughts, On a Girl and a Boy

11/2014

Teenage daughters are amazing beings. They have this uncanny ability to make you feel young, and hip, and cool in one minute, and like the frumpiest mom on the block in the next. All it takes is a moment shopping in your closet, for a play, for a costume where they will be playing a mom. Through this process you realize that yep, as hip and cool as you may think you are, held up to a teenage girl, you are, in fact, just a mom. On a dime, and without a thought, with an offhand comment, or a move, they can emotionally turn you inside out, and make you realize with crystal clear clarity that you are NOT the young thing you once were. In fact, you created a new, beta, 2.0 young thing, and it is better, and faster, and cooler.  These things happen more and more often these days, and I mourn my former self a little, time and time again. But I would not want it any other way.

1/2015

Then there are teenage boys. This year, for Christmas, our son had two requests; a new gun, and a trigger trombone. Hmmm, two things with a trigger, there has to be something to say about that, eh? And there's nothing like the big ticket items as they get older. Nonetheless, money was good for us this year, and both items were things he did kind of "need" as he heads towards senior year, college, and adulthood, so we decided why not? After shooting his first buck this fall, he got a gun on Christmas morning. Then, we went to the music store yesterday so he could try out and pick out a new trigger trombone. And what a fun day it was, just mother and son time. He drove us, there and back, which still blows my mind a little. We had lunch, we had some good talks. Picking out this new instrument, he was just beaming, feeling like he was truly being doted upon, and let's face it, he kinda was. The year is nearly half over, next year he'll be a senior. Let's just say that if the boy figures it out, he'll be able to play me for pretty much anything for the next little while!

And, again, I wouldn't want it any other way.

Creative Writing has been suspended for September, as we creatively re-model the house!!!!! Surely reflection will come, but for now, it's sheetrock dust survival.

Ripping off the Band-Aid

     Maybe you could call it ripping off the band-aid phenomenon, but I've done 2 things I've been dreading, over the past two days, and upon further examination, I've realized that both things, dreaded as they may have been, actually made me happier. Is it akin to the dread of pulling off the band-aid paling to the relief of uncovered fresh skin? Perhaps.

     Now, I'm a teacher. I know all about school supplies, probably far more than the average person, and certainly more than I care to admit to. I truly get a rush over fresh pens, pencils, and crayons. I love a good office supply store, and, even if it dates me, I must express my continued sadness over Paper Cutter going out of business. Still, every summer, without fail, my own children remain school supply less until the last possible moment. Financially, that may be a hit, or a miss, who knows. But psychologically I can tell you exactly why it happens. It's the band-aid that must be ripped off. Buying school supplies signals the end to the bliss of summer, and also, particularly as my kids get older, the end to their time with us. Buying supplies signifies that they truly are not who they were before, and it is time to accept who they are about to become; this year 8th and 11th graders, which I am loving, but also finding hard to believe.

     Well, to continue the story, yesterday was our last day of summer vacation at home, as we always spend Labor Day Weekend at our camp. It was time to get the school supplies, and I was not feeling it. Still, Devin, Gwynn, and I hopped in the van, Devin drove, and between talk, and time, and distance, my mood lightened. We bought supplies, were really happy with what we found, got some new clothes, and sneakers, and just had a really nice day. We all commented on how pleasant it was. The ripping of the band-aid proved wise.

     Alas, though, after a running full day, and with Tim not making it home from his Superintendent's Day and Mod Football practice until close to 7, it was clear we were not making it up to camp last night. So we made a plan; BBQ and a movie last night, early to bed, and early to rise the next day to get up to camp. Early. Ugh. I could sense another band-aid moment. And today the alarm was not my friend, and I grumped and grumbled because going back to getting up early is another of my hated things about the transition back to school. But I'll tell ya, again, the band-aid approach, and a vat of coffee coffee coffee,  seems to have worked. I got up/got going/ripped it off, and am now here, enjoying a stunningly beautiful day of water, blue skies, and sunshine.

     Yep, change. Transition. It's tough, for everyone. It's tough for me. But it seems these two incidents these past two days, if I allow them, have been poised to teach me that I can handle change. I can handle transition. I can rip off the band-aid, do the dreaded thing, get back to the routine and occasional grind of the new school year, and I will, as usual, survive. Perhaps, if I let myself, I will even thrive.  

     So, for now, it's off to enjoy summer, at least for a few days. Then, come Tuesday, the band-aid comes off, but I think I am, really, ready.

All I Didn't Read in Mexico

We just got back from an epic trip to Mexico, for my brother's (finally!) wedding. And I could tell you all about it, but I must start with the fact that, while there, I did not read two books, three magazines, and a book I grabbed off the casa's "take a book/leave a book"shelf in the first hour we were there. Not a word. Not even a flip through a magazine. I moved them around a few times, and offered them up to others, but I did not read one bit.

It's not because I didn't have time to read either, I did, here and there. Our family takes a trip to the beach every year, around the same time as we went on this trip. Anticipating this trip to be much the same as our usual trip, I brought the amount of reading material that I usually take for that trip. And the trip WAS much like our beach trip. I mean, mom, even in a casa with 4 and a half baths, still had that uncanny NEED to use the bathroom when others were in there. And Dad, being the one that at least feels like he has to be in charge and responsible, really only relaxed the day before we left. Just like always. And sure we were busy with wedding stuff the first three days in particular, but there were certainly still moments when I could have read. Plenty of them.

Thing is, though, when you are allowed the pleasure of continual blue sky and endless sunshine, your own infinity edge pool, epic views of the Bahia Mujeres, Caribbean, and Cancun, it's a lot to take in. And it really never gets old. I couldn't tear my eyes away. I didn't want to read. I just wanted to BE. THERE.

Being in a foreign country, too, even "just Mexico," is a lot to process. We were not at a resort. We had rented a 4 bedroom casa, so much like our annual beach trip, grocery runs had to be made, and restaurants had to be chosen, but labels, and menus were in Spanish. Monetary exchanges had to be in pesos. Just running to the the local grocery, Cheddraui, was and ADVENTURE. From the magnetized escalator for carts, to the ATM that was only KIND OF in English, to the realization that all there was to be had was this super duper extra pasteurized boxed milk on the shelf, not the cooler case; my eyes were continually wide. Any trip, to the Cheddraui, or Playa Norte, or Tortugranja rescue facility inevitably involved two taxi rides, at 45-50 mph, with a Mexican man or woman with probable minimal English. You surrendered to being sticky, in a red, ratty, tricked out old Nissan, flying up a costal two lane road as you swerved around the hierarchy of bicycles, mopeds, golf carts, and inevitably a "perro" or two. We were just at Disneyworld in April, and let me tell you, this ride beat ANYTHING we rode there! Adventure was the name of the game, daily. Hourly. I surely didn't need to read anyone else's thoughts; ponder their existence, or life. I was out there living my own life, and at times holding on for dear life! Happily!

Who DOES that?
Me, apparently, and my incredible, crazy, whacked out wonderful family!

Yep, there was no reading because there was too much to take in. Too much to do. Too much to see. There were stories from my brother's friends, about his and Priscilla's life up to this point. There were stories of how we all had made our way to this little island we called home for a week. There were stories of how Mark and Mindy didn't die on the way back from Chichen Itza, and somehow, also got their bribe BACK from a "Mexican Policia." There were constant attempts to learn a little bit of language, and a little bit of accent, even though Geena is really more suited to Italian, and Dad, well, he shouldn't quit his day job! And, as always with us, there was FOOD! We made acquaintance with the snack magic of Rancheritos, and other salty Mexican snack foods so suited to their crappy, yet surprisingly satisfying waters, I mean beers. We ate everything from cheap tacos, to three course alfresco dinners marina side, to beautifully plated sit down meals on a patio overlooking Cancun at night, to locally sourced and prepared fish with sand under our toes. (Common thread to them all? A little vinegar...and pickled onions, who knew?)

Mom and I realized we can snorkel.
We all realized we LIKE to sip tequila.
We stood at the eastern most point of Mexico, much like we stood at the Southernmost point of the US in Key West a few years ago.

We are a traveling bunch. And we all see things in a different way, and we all experience things in our own ways, but wow, what long strange wonderful trips they have been! And my brother's wedding pushed us all out of our comfort zones, in so many ways, and I am eternally thankful to him for that. I will never forget, lying in bed the day we were leaving, at daybreak, and being so incredibly thankful, being so incredibly full of love, being so in awe that I have my very OWN sister in law now.

My teeny tiny family got a little bigger...and my heart grew...in Mexico.

July has been a whirlwind for us. All told, the family has been busy, or gone, or in some way HEAVILY occupied for 24 of the 31 days. We've not only been to Mexico, but Lansing, and Vermont. May August bring a slowdown of sorts. I think we are ready for one; need one. May I sit, and read, at least for a little while. I would be willing to drift off into someone else's story for while, but may I never tire of crafting this crazy, wonderful, wild story that is my amazing life.

"Sandalgate"

Well, I'd say Sandalgate is all but over, but it sure was an interesting run.

We had a bit of a difficulty this spring, that started when I asked Tim to go to the garage loft and get my bag of summer sandals. He came back in the house to inform me, ever so gently, that he had accidentally donated them, along with a bunch of other bags of clothes and shoes. I had a momentary freak out for sure, but then I just relaxed, and figured oh well, such is, can't change it. Then I figured someone would benefit from a bunch of nice shoes. And finally I figured that this justified a whole lot of guilt free shopping for me!

Life progressed and the spring turned out to be pretty cool, even downright cold sometimes. So I had plenty of time to shop for sandals I really liked. I took my time, and was very selective. I made close friends at Zappos. And I ended up with a collection that I am really happy with.

And as it ends up, by chance, I got rid of a bunch of old stuff, but replaced it with only high quality good. And ya know what? I wore all of those new shoes all through the last two, stressful, weeks of school, and amazingly my feet didnt hurt!

Yeah, Sandalgate kinda turned into a good thing...a life lesson through footwear if you will. I learned that if you let go of the old it can make room for the new. I learned that giving something good to the world comes back to you. I learned that I am old, and I need better footwear. That's just the way it is.

To wrap up,today, I found a final shoe item I was looking for. Replacement flip flops that I needed...yes, needed..nice ones...Reef. It's funny, too, because up until today I could not find these anywhere except obscure sellers online. But today, I NEEDED flip flops. I jammed my pinkie toe last night, and purple and blue bruisey me was not fitting in to any other kind of footwear. I walked into Bass Pro Shop with Tim, and there they were.

More lessons I suppose, this time in the age old life sends us what we need when we need it.

Life has sent me shoes, life has sent me flip flops.
SUMMER has BEGUN!

What a Beautiful Mess?

For the second day in a row I am doing an extra load of unnecessary laundry. I am doing this because I can't seem to keep MYSELF from making messes. My parents used to always talk about having to change into "play clothes" after school. Maybe I ought to start to do the same! I never worried much about it with my own kids, as they just played, all day, at the sitter, or at school, and then at home. They wore easy care fabrics, and no one really cared how their clothes looked due to their cute little smiles. Nightly, I'd throw their stuff in the wash. Well, let's be frank, after a day at work, somedays, I'm just not in smiley mode. So guess that means "play clothes?" For myself? Really? AT 43?

Now if I wear a dress, and even more so, tights or stockings to work, then, yes, by the time I get home I am ready to change. And usually I do change, into something more comfy, before I get into my evening routine of house work, running kids, homework, and dinner prep and cleanup. But yesterday, and today, I had on cute sleeveless tops and capris. Nothing too uncomfy about those, and I figured why not, for a change, go through the evening continuing to look cute, as the clothes were eventually headed to the washer anyways.

Yesterday brought a bit of rain, right at the time we were headed to pick Gwynn up from a softball dinner. When the rain started, Tim was perfectly happy to go, alone, but I said, "Nah, I'll come along to sit in the AC in the car, and to run in and say HI, and THANKS to her coach." On our way there the rain became torrential. As we arrived, again, Tim was perfectly happy to get out, alone, and to go in, but I said, "Nah, I have my work clothes on still anyways, I'll just run, get wet, and that's that." Little did I know "running in" would also involve tripping and "sliding" into "home front porch." Only me. Only me.

Then today, I was still in my work clothes, and making "clean out the fridge" soup. I set the timer to 10 minutes for the final simmer to cook some noodles. I said, "Hmmm, while that simmers maybe I will put all of these spices away." Then PLOP, a bottle slipped out of my hand, and into the boiling soup, splashing all over the front of my comfy work outfit. Into the laundry room I went, again. Sputtering, storming, scrubbing. Again. Only me. Only me.

So this weekend, I need to shop. Perhaps for some new work clothes, as the jury is still out on today's shirt. But more certainly for some "play clothes." And perhaps I should also shop for a writing manual to figure out how to ease up on use of quotation marks - but that's another blog...

Hop On the Bus, Gus

So we bought a new van.

No, wait,change that. We bought a new van!!! We pick it up today, and it's brand new!!! And it's red!!! And as uncool as a van may be, we got this one for a great price, and I am totally pumped about it!!!

Not every member of the family feels the same way.

Devin was really helpful this time around in the process of shopping for a new car. He is really into cars, like every newly permitted 16 year old. But he is also way into the nuts and bolts of cars as well, partly due to hanging with my dad, and partly due to the show " Top Gear." When we first started the process of looking, I thought I wanted an SUV. I also thought I wanted bells, whistles, leather heated seats, and integrated communication systems. I had a long list, of wants.

Devin, in his very much appreciated desire to help out, dutifully asked the right question of me, as the purchaser, "What do you want?" I gave him that long list of wants, and he found the cars, along with the feature packages that had the greatest value, and you know, it's all about the package.

I'm sure you, dear reader, can see where this is going. Yep, we are full speed ahead, crash is imminent.

Fast forward to actual shopping. Try fitting a family of four, with three members close to or exceeding 6 feet tall, into a supposed large SUV. (read that Ford Explorer...huge disappointment) It doesn't work. And the third row seat? Ummm, no. I could not envision myself trying to CRAWL out of that, ever, let alone on, say, a wine tour? Suddenly it was looking like an extra large SUV. Suddenly the car that would fit us would cost 2/3 the cost of my farmhouse. Suddenly $10,000 difference turned to $20,000 difference.

Suddenly, my rational adult mind kicked in.
Need trumped want, and it was back to a van.

Tim said he saw it coming all along.
I was in denial.
And Devin, after having done so much leg work, felt dismissed.

But you know, I think the purchase ended up being a great life lesson all around.

Tim got some confirmation of his innate wisdom, once again. And if he were an "I told ya so" kinda guy, boy did he gain some leverage!

Devin saw, in action, the fact that the best laid plans stand to be changed in time, and circumstance, and practicality.

And as much as I love cars, and let me tell you, growing up my father's daughter, I DO love cars, I learned, or perhaps was reminded again, that I am not my car.

Always, I will want a reliable vehicle, that will do the job, and at this point in life in particular, the job my vehicle has is a job of hauling. A van may not be flashy, but it will get me to work, and bring me home again. It will bring home piles of groceries to keep my children growing taller and taller. It will carry all 4 of us, and our dog, to visit our families an hour an a half south. It will take the dog to the kennel, and then the 4 of us on to our traveling adventures, wherever they may end up being.

We will own this van for 8 - 10 years. It will see colleges. It will see first, maybe second, maybe even third apartments, or even first homes. Pretty hard to imagine where life might be in 10 years, but no matter what I know a van will serve us in the ways we will need it to.

It seems that sometimes, you do need to make a new plan, Stan.

Here Comes the Sun

You know, I hate to go on about the weather. I mean, realistically, there's not much you can do about it. And also, this past winter in particular, it was a bit overdone. But I have to put in one final thought I am afraid. And sad as it might be, it must be pointed out that I am putting in this final thought about winter and it is April 6! It did snow yesterday, after all.

A few days ago I received an order in the mail from LLBean. It was this cute skirt that I got a great deal on. A friend of mine obviously got the greet deal too, as she showed up in the same skirt at work, wearing it in much the same way I intended to. It looked great, but that day after work, knowing I had laundry to put away anyways, I played around in my closet a bit, and found a bunch of fun ways to wear it, one of which I wore the next day.

In the process of poking around in my closet, I also found my sweater dress. Yep, my long lost sweater dress that I had NEVER EVEN WORN in an entire winter. In fact I found a bunch of cute dresses and skirts that had just hung there this entire season. Why? I mean, in part it could be blamed on the winter blahs for sure, but really, I think it was the cold. Most days this winter it was too blustery, and too snowy, and too cold to even consider a skirt, even with tights.

Still, a sweater dress? One of those super cozy outfits? If it was too cold for that, it really must have been a polar vortex! No joke!

So all I can say is bring on the dresses. Bring on the skirts. Bring on the sandals and bring on the shorts. We head to Florida in a week, and yeah, our skin will be pasty white and dry. But it is ready for sun like it never has been before. Winter, I will not miss you at all.

Bring on the SUN!

The END

This is all ya get for a second stab at writing in March.
END March, just END, and take all the snow and cold with you.
The END.

Short

Yes, it has been repeated ad nauseam, but let's just mention again how LONG and COLD this winter has been. In a drastic attempt to counter act the long and the cold I have cut my hair. SHORT.

Some people do this to support people who lose their hair to cancer. Others donate their grown out hair for wigs. Well, I just cut it off to cheer myself up. Shallow, I know, but I am thinking it just might have worked. And a happier me is another way of doing something good for the world, just ask my husband!

For the past several weeks I have been in the doldrums, more than usual. The seasonal drag has been strong, and this girl has been struggling. All of my typical cheer up tricks had been failing. Music in the car, or on my iPod, unnecessary shopping, trashy magazines, coconut coffee, wine, the Cymbalta blanket...nothing was cutting it. Then daylight savings hit, and while we gained light in the evening, our mornings got dark again. And dark, COLD mornings make it damn hard for "not a morning girl" to get out of bed.

But today, after school, I walked in for my haircut and color appointment and said "Cut is short." And it feels good. And it is making me think I might have found spring, if not in the air, at least in my step.

"It Was The Best Day EVER!"

Snow day whirling dervish has come and gone. I know I have addressed this phenomenon before. The rush of activity at the end of a languid day. Today was a snow day, full of random possibility, which took on its own beautiful form. Still, with one responsible party of the house off at "real" work, I felt that need, around 3pm, to make it look like we hadn't wiled away the hours the ways we actually did...

-ending season 4 of Gilmore Girls

-finding a frighteningly lost necklace in the cushions of the couch, and having a small cry over the gravity of having lost it in the first place

-texting a friend, which led to the re-reading of a short memoir that has already been lovingly re-read multiple times before

-talking to my brother for over two wonderful hours

-thinking thoughts, having ideas, dreaming dreams

-trying out hair chalk 

-watching Olympic re-runs on NBC-SN and realizing how truly addicted we were/are/were

-baking cookie bars

-making homemade mac n cheese while listening to Lisa Loeb

-debating want vs need as we all updated our amazon wish lists  in the anticipation of upcoming birthday month

-braving the sledding hill again, after crashing on it this weekend

Yep, we can waste time like nobody's business, as I have shared before. But why not? I mean it's all about money and time in this life anyways, n'est pas?  And today we got some time. Not to mention, in some way you could say I made more money being off work today anyways. Being  a salaried employee, in theory a snowday off "ups" my per diem rate does it not? 

Remember the Cadillac ad that ran incessantly during the Olympics, with the guy who does the quick change into the suit, and speaks of good old American "hard work," and the acquisition of stuff? He mentions the whopping "two weeks" of vacation time he gets? Two weeks? I mean how do you even have the time to enjoy your stuff if you only have two weeks off?  I like stuff as much as the next person, but I am completely OK having less stuff, if I can have more time.  I say, take the "August off" instead, maybe even throw in a July, or a snowday here or there. Things still get done, goals and work are accomplished. Even with some leisure time, I think I still am a hard working American, and today I felt like one with a life fully lived, loved, enjoyed. Thank You, for life, for time, for snow.
It WAS the best day ever

EOS

Gwynn is recently obsessive about a lip balm called EOS...Evolution Of Smooth. It got me thinking of our day as it has had a certain EOS to it as well, and that would be Evolution Of Snowday.

Honestly, I'd say the vibe for a snowday started last night. Snow was trucking along all day, eventually canceling afternoon and evening activities, and Gwynn's basketball game as well. There was an after school lull, until just after Tim rolled in the driveway. Then snow kicked up, around 4:30, and it was that snow that just does not stop. 

We progressed with our evening, dinner, homework, and then Tim and Gwynn headed out to check things out. It was a BLIZZARD! Nearly a foot had already fallen, more was coming, but they cleared cars, and blew the drive anyways. Afterwards, all obligations for the evening done, as well as lunches and bags at the ready for the next day, we settled in for some prime time Olympics. The snow wasn't stopping, and honestly, we did stay up a little bit late...was it possible the snow would go all night? I think we all had our hopes. The evening had a serindipidelicious feel to it right to the bitter end.

Then, for me at least, was a night full of dreams.

There was a snowday in my dream.

When I dared to peek out the window in the night, it was clear that the snow was still going.

And at 5:40 or so the call came.

A snowday indeed!

The Evolution of our day began with a blissful feeling that anything was possible, but I have to say that little was accomplished, really, above the norm. And we are here, now, again, finishing dinner and watching the Olympics. But it is with the relaxed feeling of a surprise day off.

I'd say everyone should have a snowday now and again. It's good for the soul.

Q-U-I-E-T

You know, until you are a parent, I don't think you can really appreciate quiet. The blissful sound of nothingness. Of course once you are a parent, of young children at least, there are times that quiet is not a good thing. True quiet usually means someone is up to something and if you don't want a mess of grand proportions you better get up and get investigating. I remember back in the day too, when Tim and I would realize it was quiet, sometimes with the kids right underfoot, we would spell the word to each other, out loud. Q-U-I-E-T. It was a mantra of sorts. I think one of the biggest surprises to both of us as parents was the volume level, and Tim often used to say, "I never knew it would be this loud."

But it is quiet here today, and we are, these days, experiencing quiet of another sort. This quiet is "Woah! Both of them are at after school activities and we have the house all to ourselves!" quiet. And it is good!

Many good things can be said about kid free time you know, but today, we chose to revel in the quiet. Tim is actually asleep right now on the couch and I am quietly typing away. The only sounds are the keys, my thoughts, and the fairly constant blow of forced air heat. No music. No TV. No beeping or buzzing from phones. Just pure, blissful quiet. It will be a short session since, due to the cold, and to the drying nature of said forced air heat, my fingers are a messed up land of cracked winter skin. Then today, my fingers were aggravated even more by the world's worst paper cut, ever, on my right middle finger. Typing is sort of, really, truly, a pain.

But I could not waste this opportunity.
To reset, recharge, regroup.
An opportunity to reflect, on nothing.
A moment to be thankful, for alone together time.
To be thankful for
QUIET.