Where'd the writer go?

 

 

not sure what has happened

 

 

it's been the longest

I think

that I have not written

Here

since Here came to be

 

my friend called me out on it recently

 

Damn

 

I was sorta hoping

no one would notice

 

or maybe

 

I was hoping

everyone would

 

Lord knows there's plenty of stuff

to write about

 

there's so much

maybe

inside my head

 

that's the problem

 

is it?

really?

it's a problem when you have too much to say?

 

I think that might indicate

a Real Problem

 

cause

really

if I'm not coming to talk

Here

then where am I talking?

 

 

This New Year's, I'm ignoring the countdown

New Year's Eve is all about reflecting on the past year and looking ahead to the next. Tonight, in fact, is probably the one night where you are expected to NOT be in the present moment, not be mindful of the Right Now. But the thing is, I'm always looking backwards or looking ahead. I'm never in the Now.

It's a problem. Has been for as long as I can remember.

And really, tonight, of all nights, I don't want to look back (too much) or look ahead. I am trying, once again, to make it a point to be in the Here and Now. As much as possible, although, really, all the time, would be totally stellar.

What does it say about you when the same issue haunts you, over and over again? When you say you're going to work on this, you're going to make it your focus, your goal, when your closest people who know you best in the world tell you it's a problem, and you know it's true, and yet, you're still here, another new year resolving to fix it. Is it like this for everyone? Or am I the only one who has written a blog post about changing something about myself, only to have to write the same post again, the following year, or the one after that, just in different words? But what other choices do we have? Do we give up, then, and shrug our shoulders, and blow it off: "Ah, that's just how I am."?

No. I refuse.

One of my favorite quotes: "When you stop trying to be better, you stop being good."

So here I am, another post reflecting on how I need to be more present, need to focus on the Now, need to stop multi-tasking, stop thinking about everything all the time, worrying about what's coming or what might come or what might not happen, and just Be Here. Now. In this moment. Each moment.

And really, what does all the worrying and the planning and the overthinking help, anyways? Absolutely nothing. It gives me a false sense that if I can plan out every possible scenario and worry about every possible problem, then maybe I can preempt it. But really, 2012 is proof that whatever's gonna happen is gonna happen, and all you can do is raise a toast when it's good, and step up to the plate when it's bad.

2012: What a year. It started out with an entire TV show crew at my house giving my front yard a makeover. (Well, technically, it started with a hangover from our first ever New Year's Eve house party, but that's another story.) We took road trips in our new (old) RV. We went to Paris for our tenth wedding anniversary and realized we were the exact same couple we were when we went the first time on our honeymoon...just more in love and with better outfits. I got my first new car in 12 years. We spent a couple of months passing strep and hand-foot-mouth disease and every virus imaginable back and forth to each other. There were family issues. There were friendship issues. There were money issues. My sister was diagnosed with breast cancer. I turned 40.

It's amazing how many things can be squeezed into 365 days. It's amazing how many lessons there are, sitting there, within the celebrations and the scares, if you look.

So I'm not going to reflect and ponder too much tonight. I'm not going to plan ahead for 2013. I'm not going to spend too much time dramatically looking back at the highs and lows (both of which were quite extreme this past year), either. I'm just going to try to sit  here, in my PJ's, listening to the neighborhood fireworks and my kids' congested snores, snuggle with Hubby under the covers, and be grateful for This Moment, This Night.

Happy New Year's.

Viva Las Vegas: My Life, in Lists

"Let's go to Vegas for my birthday!"

The idea was born, about a year and a half ago, during a drunken afternoon on the beach on one of our babysitting days. Katy Perry's "Waking Up in Vegas" was playing on my iPod. It was a cheesy idea even from the beginning: all based on excess and tackiness and neon and glitter and loudness.

I loved it.

I wanted to wear a fancy dress, some killer stilettos, a tad bit of glitter eyeliner, hold a cocktail, and celebrate my 40th with Hubby and my closest friends in the loudest, brightest place on earth. My mini traveling party leaves tomorrow... A far-fetched idea that was born from a bad pop song and too much sun and booze, and it became reality. I can't wait. It's exactly what I (we) need right now.

So here are some of my birthday wishes for my big "Forty and Fucking Fabulous Birthday Bash:"

1. I want everyone to laugh. A lot.
2. I want to dance. A lot. (It'd be awesome if everyone else did, too, but honestly, I might end up as that girl who is dancing by herself with her eyes closed, oblivious to the rest of her group members.)
3. My heels won't hurt (that much).
4. I will get a lovely Vegas buzz going each night.
5. My lovely Vegas buzz will not turn into a horrid Vegas hangover the next morning.
6. The nightclub crawl tour we bought for Friday night will be more like the Vegas scenes of Ashton Kutcher and Cameron Diaz in the "What Happens in Vegas" movie than like a bad 2012 version of a Chevy Chase vacation movie.
7. My group will do a shot together (or several)...hotel rooftop not required.
8. No one will slip a roofie into any of those shots.
9. I will not lose my camera.
10. I will not fall down.
11. I will not throw up.
12. We will stay up until at least sunrise at least one of the nights.
13. I will have sex. Lots of it.
14. I will remember the sex.
15. We will make it to the places on the itinerary, but I will not be so anal as to continue to insist on sticking to the itinerary.
16. I will enjoy whatever restaurant/bar/club I am currently in, and not worry about whether there's a better one somewhere out there on the strip and I am missing it.
17. I will not complain that my super-cute-but-possibly-too-thin-for-Vegas-winter-weather-coat is not warm enough.
18. I will not worry about my children, my sister, or the bar tab.
19. I will not worry about whether everyone else is having fun.
20. Everyone will have fun.
21. I will not reflect, ponder, wonder, resolve, or over-analyze anything heavy, major, important, or life altering for the duration of my trip.
22. I will not mentally check stuff off this list as they occur.

So raise your glass...here's a toast to my next decade...may it be a blast!
Cheers!

A little out of it

I haven't been here in forever.

I must admit that this time around, it is not just Life, and the usual excuses of being busy or tired. Yes, I am busy. Yes, I am tired (perpetually). But really, the truth is I've been avoiding this place.

I don't have anything to write, I think, because I actually have too much to write about.

Does that make sense to anyone?

There's been too much going in life, and therefore, in my head, lately, and I feel like coming here would be like opening up Pandora's Box. And sometimes, you really gotta get in there: yank that sucker open and delve in. But other times--and I think this is one of those--that I'd rather lock it up and sit on it like an overstuffed suitcase.

I just don't want to Go There. Not yet, anyways. I know the time will come when I will need to ponder, to question, to try to make sense of stuff, and to get it all out. But for now, for just the next few weeks, I would like to practice a little bit of denial. Ignorance is bliss, and all that.

You see, I feel like if I reflect too much, I might have to face some harsh realities: my sister's current situation, the fact that I'm about to hit a major age milestone, and the sudden awareness of the passing of time. (I have not forced myself into such ignorance that I do not realize the obvious link here.)

Since my last post, my sister is healing well. (Thank you to all who have prayed, sent well-wishes, asked about her...) She is still not at the end of her journey (as if any of us ever are), and the family is still struggling day-to-day. There are Big Lessons here. Big. I just don't have the energy to try to figure those out yet.

There is this birthday thing: 40. I will be 40 in just a couple of weeks. That's pretty big, too. And I feel like I'm a little too fragile right now to get all self-reflective and melodramatic and poignant.

My babies are gone. I can't quite come to terms with the deliciousness that is my 4-year-old and my 7-year-old who I feel are growing up so fast, I can't bear it.

And the holidays...this time of year always makes me all pensive.

So I am doing something I usually am not so good at: avoiding. Instead, I am choosing to immerse myself in the busy-ness of this time of year and the excitement of my upcoming birthday trip (Vegas BABY!). There will be plenty of time (and I know myself well enough to know that I don't avoid for very long) to poke around in my subconscious and try to figure out some of the emotions that I've been suppressing...to try to  make sense of or come to terms with or have some sort of epiphany or Something...but for now, I'm just going to put my energies into figuring out which stilettos will look the best and hurt the least in Vegas (as if!), and what Santa is going to bring my little boys. There will be time for heavy stuff. Right now, I just want light.

My sister has breast cancer (or: Time to put on your big girl pants)

I am sitting in a hospital waiting room while my sister undergoes surgery for a double mastectomy.

I am surprisingly calm. I think it's because I haven't really dwelled on what's actually happening to my sister's body as I type. She is 49 years old and takes such good care of herself that people regularly ask which one of us is older (I am nearly 10 years younger). We had no history of breast cancer (or any cancer, for that matter) in our family. So as we waited for biopsy results last month, I thought surely we were in the clear. It wouldn't touch us. Cancer, that is. And then, all it takes is one phone call, and there It is. It becomes part of your family. Your life. Your everyday. We all have to check off the "yes" box on the medical questionnaires that ask about your history. It looms.

In one month, I have learned more about breast cancer than I have known my whole life. I think I might have learned a lot about my sister and myself, too. It's all very surreal. This moment, it is surreal. This post. Surely, I will wake up and say to Hubby, "I had the weirdest dream..."

This past month has been one of the hardest for Hubby and me. As if the c-word weren't enough, there's been Other Stuff. (I feel the need to state, for the record, that the boys are good...knock on wood. I'm so superstitious). It seems that Life has decided we've been good and calm for a while, so let's shake things up a bit. Let's make those two grow up some. They are always so good together, so let's see what they can do when we throw some shit their way.

So far, so good though. At least there is that: when push comes to shove, we pull each other in. There is light in that. There is grace.

Grace.

Mixed in there in all the crap, in all the horror, the fear, the anxiety, the general bad luck, there is grace. I am realizing that already. But you gotta go out there and look for it, find it, grab it, drag it into you. But it's there.

I've seen grace in the way my sister has stood tall during this, and in the way she's allowed herself to crumble, on some days, when she's had to, to cry and be afraid and wail, and then pick herself up. Or, maybe more importantly, find someone to do it for her...to yank her up by the shoulders and slap her around. It takes grace and dignity and courage to keep your chin up, to be brave and strong. But it also takes grace to know when you can't dig yourself out, to recognize you've gone over the edge, to the dark side, and to know you need to find the way out but you can't do it for yourself.

I've seen grace in my brother-in-law, who was always a man of few words and even less emotion, who told my sister he didn't care if they took her breasts and her hair; all he wanted was her to be at his side.

I've seen grace in the way my parents have put up a front and held themselves together for my sister's sake, and do what they have to do for her, her kids, her husband, and for me, and my kids.

I've seen grace in the way people at work, friends, acquaintances come to bat for you...how my friends walk the line between distraction and a shoulder to cry on.

I've seen grace in Hubby, who woke up early with me today, and when I insisted he go back to bed, that there was nothing he could do, he simply sat next to me, took my hand, and said, "Then I'll just hold your hand while you have breakfast."

You hear all kinds of stuff about how people cope with the hard stuff in life. And then it's your turn, and you just kind of muddle along, and you go through all kinds of emotions and thoughts: denial, anger, frustration, fear, optimism, hope. Everyone copes differently. I'm starting to realize that the only thing that gives me hope in tough situations is the possibility that good might come out of it on the other end....that when the dust settles, you will be a better person for it. That's all I've got to hold onto right now, for me, for my sister: that we will be, somehow, better for having been forced on this journey.

Watching my kid sleep: New favorite pastime

I am acutely aware of the passing of time.

The days of answering the cartoon characters on TV are nearly over. The dimples on the back of the hand are nearly filled in. There will soon be no more babies in this house. Just two big boys.

I remember when the TV shows around here were limited to extra sweet themes: Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, Dora, Diego... Ben would sit there, transfixed, his big button-like eyes barely blinking, dutifully replying to Dora's bilingual questions, agreeing with Diego's animal-rescue plans, mimicking Mickey's dance moves. Now, we have to force him to change the channel on shows with character names like "Buttowski,"  involving lots of yelling, and lots of  "loser" and an occasional "jerk." But Aidan will still, every once in a while, answer the Little Einsteins when one of them asks "What's your favorite animal?" or "Will you help us on a mission?" or (my personal favorite) "Do you want to go on an animal safari with us?"

The innocence of it is almost painful.

I was never one of those moms who just looooved the baby stage. I did love stuffing my nose in their necks and inhaling that perfect baby smell. I did live for the moments when they would do something new: smile, say Mama, wave bye-bye for the first time. But the rest of the time, I was exhausted, frustrated, and stressed. By the time my oldest turned into a toddler, I realized I was the kind of mom who enjoyed the older stages much more. So I spent a lot of those early days wishing I could fast forward, wondering when they would grow up a little more, counting the days until they would be more self-sufficient.

And now, here we are, nearly there. My little one is in his last year of daycare/pre-k. Next year, he goes to "real school." That's it. To me, once they are in kindergarten, they have crossed over: no longer a baby. A kid. My last baby will be all grown up.

I have never been particularly sentimental about these sorts of things. I never felt this way about my first born. I've realized that we sorta missed out on this toddler-to-3-year-old-yummy stage with Ben. Ben turned 3 a month after Aidan arrived. And Aidan was a horrible baby. (Yes, I can say that. Trust me. He was.) I am not even exaggerating when I say that the kid cried--no, wailed--for the first four and a half months of his life. I'm serious. All the time. I remember driving around with the two boys in the backseat, Aidan squealing his completely hysterical red-faced shriek for no apparent reason, and Ben sitting with his hands over his ears, his face contorted in a look of pure hate as he stared at this little wailing ball of hysteria that was his new brother. That was the day I realized that it wasn't just Mommy and Daddy who were suffering with the latest addition to the family. And once the crying subsided, there were always new "issues." Aidan had a vomiting stage that lasted months (if you think I'm exaggerating, click on this blog's Labels link...it actually has one called "Vomit.") He had a "I-refuse-to-sleep" stage. He just demanded a lot of our attention a lot of the time. Ben, on the other hand, was a very easy kid. We just didn't know it until Aidan came around.

So now, as I find myself walking into Aidan's room at night and watching him sleep, his arms up over his head in little relaxed fists, just like when he was a baby (on the rare occasion that he was actually sleeping peacefully, that is), I try to remember doing that with Ben. And I realized, recently, that I can barely recall Ben being this age at all. It dawned on me: of course, we were so busy with Aidan's first two years that we sorta passed by Ben's 3 and 4-year-old stages in a blur. We were just surviving then. There wasn't much time for sentimentality.

But now, here we are: Aidan is completely manageable and easy (except when he absolutely isn't), and Ben is like a whole little mini-adult. There are even days when we can send them both to shower and get dressed on their own, and (holy cow!) they do it! Some days they even manage to do it without any drama, screaming, fighting, or flooding of the bathroom.

So we have a little more time these days...to make dinner, read a book, watch "Dancing with the Stars," sneak into their rooms at night to watch them sleep...and contemplate the passing of time and the filling in of those little hand dimples.

Where I am right now

"There's no real point in mourning
all the sadness and suffering in the world....

So this is my therapy,

to sing about the end of the world and dance.

We don't find solutions in despair--

we find solutions in the defiance of it....

Everybody needs a little horn section."

                                                                  ~Dave Matthews

Things I've Been Doing Instead of Blogging: My Life, in Lists

1. Starting a new school year for my 1st grade little boy (I can't believe he's in 1st grade!)
2. Starting a new school year for my pre-k little boy (actual homework!)
3. Starting a new school year with my students (48 fourth-graders, to be exact)
4. Moving classrooms twice in a three-week period
5. Stressing about work and the general state of public education
6. Ignoring my broken computer
7. Trying not to stress about my broken computer
8. Having to face the reality that my computer is broken
9. "Writing" blog posts in my head
10. Stressing about the blog posts that are not making it into the blogosphere
11. Trying to lose the 8 pounds I gained over summer vacation
12. Realizing that as I approach 40, losing summer weight is not that easy
13. Waking up at 4:35 a.m. to make it to the gym (see #s 11 and 12)
14. Going to bed at 10:00 p.m. (see #13)
15. Entering the world of Soccer Mom (Soccer practices are how many times a week for a 6-year-old?!?)
16. Entering the world of tennis (how cute is a 4-year-old who actually asks to take "tennis classes"?)
17. Missing summer

Good-bye Summer!

Good-bye

~10:00 a.m. wake-up calls

~Going to sleep past midnight (usually us, sometimes even the kids)

~Monopoly Jr. games at 10:00 p.m. (what bedtime?)

~"What do you want to do today?"

~"Is it good beach weather today?"

~"We gotta do laundry for the next road trip..."

~Hanging out with my girls (and their kids) on a weekday afternoon

~Middle-of-the-day, middle-of-the-week art classes (for the kids)

~Middle-of-the-day, middle-of-the-week any activity (for the kids)

~Babysitting nights Every. Single. Week. (for Us)

~Wine on a Monday night

~And a Tuesday night

~Maybe a Wednesday too

~Stress-free Sunday nights

~"What day of the week is it?"

~Middle-of-the-day spontaneous gym visits

~Consistent conversations with Hubby all the time

~No need for "scheduling sex in"

~Tour de France on DVR

~Olympics on DVR

~Family Movie Night any night

~Flip flops 24/7 (what stilettos?)

~No routine, no schedule, no stress

~"Summer Liz" (the much-nicer-to-live-with version)

Perhaps I should keep that last one in mind?

Happy Birthday, Aidan Kai!

Four years ago today you entered our world with terrible drama.  

You drove us nuts the first few months with your endless piercing cries.

You've made every milestone and transition difficult.

And you've melted each and every one of us with your amazing sweetness, gentle nature, perfect dimples, and deliciously wicked sense of humor.  Happy Birthday to the sweetest little marshmallow of a boy. We love you, Pokey-Chicken..."all the way to the stars" and "sooooo much."