Five Things, Four Ways

Things I Do Well:
- Play "taco" with Eve... I hold her in my arms, legs on one side, head on the other and let her bum drop down so she is the shape of a taco. Then I ask her what she wants on her taco "Cheese, hamburgers, lollipops" as I pretend to put on ingredients and then chomp her up.
- Laugh at Morgan's jokes. She's hilarious. She's almost as funny as Dan.
- Connect emotionally. It oozes from me. Can't be helped. It irritates some people. :)
- Make cookies. 
- Have coffee with Dan in the morning. He's a joy to listen to.

Things I Don't Do Well:
- Exercise with regularity. *sigh*
- Plan laundry, cleaning and dinner making. I don't like schedules but I need them. So I flounder.
- Read. I SHOULD read more, but don't.
- Watch TV.
- High levels of details. I like to be simpler.

Things That Make Me Sad:
- How the sam heck am I going to lose these last 10 pounds?
- When I get mad at people for doing small, selfish things. It seems I can handle big, ugly things in life better than small, vain, irritating things.
- Rotten veggies in my fridge. :( Sorry, veggies.
- When I think badly about myself; Most of this has come from being a stay at home mom. Chaos does not make me feel successful. Or loving. Or smart.
- When people like to be victims in life. No matter what you say or do, victims love to be unhappy and to be hurt. I don't get it.

Things That Make Me Feel Happy:
- When I start the day trusting God for how the hours will unfold.
- When I make a pie.
- When I kick butt in my workout.
- When I finish something. Like my design collection. Or iron Dan's shirts. I love doing both.
- When a friend says something to build me up.

From Maryland

I just returned from a two week visit to Maryland.

There is nothing, absolutely nothing wrong with living in Chicagoland. It's perfectly wonderful. I can enjoy rural or urban life easily. I can get my groceries from at least 6 stores. Our school district is very good. But when your heart longs for another place, you'll find yourself saying bad things about certain situations, even if they are good.

For example: 
Last summer my family had a delightful vacation to South Haven, Michigan. I love beach towns. I grew up working at the beach. It's in my blood. At one point I remember telling my daughters, "This is a lake. It has no waves. It's not a real beach. One day I'll show you an ocean."

Yes, that was a direct stab at landlocked midwest. I love where I live here in Chicagoland. But try as it might to woo me, I am an east coast girl at heart.

Another factor in my visit was probably my parents' divorce. Even two years after the closing of that chapter, I find myself trying to cobble together some understanding of what just happened. Of how a loving, tight family became a scattered tribe. I still can't fully swallow the word "divorce"; it hangs in my throat like a broken Dorito.

I went back to Maryland to show my children an ocean, to remind myself where I came from, to eat picnic food with my really great family, and to celebrate the "new normal" of a life where parents have two different homes.

I didn't tell my children about my agenda.
I told my 8 year old that we were visiting family.
I told my 3 year old that we were going to the beach. She hopped right into the car.

I can't fully explain what happened in Maryland, but somehow the air and the food and the laughter of all the people I saw filled my cup.

I had a wonderful time with my dad at the Chesapeake Bay, where a scant half dozen children ran in and out of the house, wood screen door slamming, as they played in water and got stung by jellyfish. The laughter was thick, the mothers who watched them were tired and my dad, who went by the name "Captain Mike" took the children on rafts and boat rides and even offered a kayaking lesson.

I saw my friend Lauren who made me immediately jealous that she has gotten more beautiful over the past 10 years. Her eyes became bluer and her laugh became richer. We had forgotten the years between us.


I saw my friend Patti, who was one my marriage mentors. She said a great deal of wisdom in the few hours I was with her. She encouraged me as a mother with her gracious words. She smiled on my 3 year old who cried for nearly 20 minutes when we arrived. And since Patti's children (a bit older) are gracious and accomplished, confident and transparent, I saw how her words became, well, people. Amazing people.

I listened to my friend Rheba's journey in life with illness. And how she refuses to let it hold her down.

I watched my Dad's side of the family as they scooped up my children, made them laugh, let them share their feelings and told them family stories.

I delighted as my husband and daughters saw how my Mom's side of the family requires the dessert table to be almost bigger than the entree table. I watched as my daughters were effortlessly brought into the fold, laughing with relatives they just met as if they knew them all their life.

And then...we had Hawaiian shaved ice at Brian and Renee's house. Get this: They have a shaved ice machine in their basement. They bought it after they honeymooned in Hawaii. It rained most of the time they were there, so they ate shaved ice the whole time to enjoy the time. Essentially they redeemed a bad vacation into kitschy fun and now... now they're hooked on shaved ice and spreading the word to their 3 darling children and anyone else who will try it. 

I ate crabs. Eve says they are "berry ouchy" and also "gross" but at least she saw them.

I tried fried Oreos and fried Twinkies on the Ocean City, Maryland boardwalk.
I won't eat friend Oreos again, but I dream of the Twinkies.

We drove home the long way so I could try Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams. Food became art. I tried Lavender ice cream. Lavender! It tasted like a spring day. My husband, who is selfless and kind, was eyeing my Chocolate Cayenne ice cream with big, big eyes. "Go ahead, have it," I told him. "You sure?" he said, spoon ready.

My heart is full.
The scale in my bathroom is unkind.
My memories are refreshed.

I came home tired, but renewed, knowing who I was.