Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Ten Things I Learned in Vegas


  1. Italian men like to wear pink.


  2. People born in 1987 (the year I graduated high school) are able to gamble and drink.


  3. You can easily lose $200 in a matter of minutes, especially if you are using colorful plastic circles as currency.


  4. Chocolate Amaretto Gelato tastes best at midnight.


  5. Drink containers large enough to require a strap to carry them actually exist. Seriously.


  6. Everyone should have a button next to their bed that automatically opens and closes the window shade.


  7. There is no reason to spend $25 a day to work out in the hotel gym. Take a walk, man!


  8. Lots of people like to stand in really, really long lines for all-you-can-eat buffets. Not me.


  9. You can actually get blisters on the bottom of your feet from walking too much.


  10. Everything that happens in Vegas definitely doesn't stay in Vegas. Talk to my thighs!

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Sweet Preserves

The last day of my 39th year was a swirl of melancholy, anticipation and excitement.   I was at home with my family.  "Home" means with my parents not in the place I live with my own little family.  My brother and his crew live close, so all 12 of us were together off and on all day.  At one point during the day, Mom pulled out old video tapes and we cuddled on the couch to giggle, cry and reminisce.   It was just the two of us, which is a rarity when I visit.  Some kids were outside, some were watching TV and some where fishing with Dad.  We saw loved one who had passed years ago.  We saw friends we haven't seen since.  We saw younger versions of ourselves and marveled at the speediness and wild abandonment of the hands of time.  

One  video was a tape that I had made for Mom and Dad years ago of our 8mm film so we could watch it on the VCR.  The video transfer preserved the raw scratchiness of the film and the silence made me focus on the images more deeply.  Although I have seen these tapes before, they meant so much more to me.  It's been at least 15 years since we've seen them, because I know I haven't made my husband watch them.  I got to see my parents in action in their twenties:  Mom bathing and powdering my baby body; Dad bouncing me on his knee and stealing sweet kisses from my neck.  Being a parent myself gave these images a connective feeling:  I knew how it felt to hold and love your own child, so I could appreciate the emotions more than just the picture.  Other scenes were mainly of my brother and me in various stages of play, celebration, and interaction.  One moment sticks in my mind of my brother not quite 4 and me not quite 1.  I wasn't walking yet...just a ball of baby rolling around on the floor.  Apparently someone was instructing him to pick me up so we could be filmed together.  He tried with all his might to get me and all I could do is flop and roll around.   He finally gave up and stood there alone and smiled while I lay there perfectly content.  This image represents our sibling life together:  he would try to direct me in a certain way, finally give up and let me be as I made my own way.

Watching the cousins play made me nostalgic, even hungry for more childhood memories: swinging on my rope swing, snuggling with my pets, or just taking silly pictures with my brother.  So, I, literally, dug out and dusted off our old slide projector and boxes of slides...all of which were out of order. With great joy, I discovered it still worked.  My brother set up a sheet over the mantle and the kids all got pillows and blankets and gathered to watch our family memories unfold.   The kids marveled at the machine and mentioned more than once that they hoped it didn't blow up.  The hum of the projector and that unmistakable sound of it switching slides were worlds apart from watching a digital slide show on the computer.   What a marvelous way to connect generations! I pointed out a chair that is now in our family room...no longer the avocado green velvet...and a table that is in our living room...no longer the avocado green paint.   A small painted plaque that hung in my grandmother's kitchen is now hanging next to my sink.  A quilt that my great-grandmother made and gave me for my birthday is in my daughter's room.  My kids saw places I lived, pets I had, friends I made and how I grew from year to year just like them.

My walk down memory lane did so much more than help me recall events.  It guided my hand as I pulled the common thread through my birth to present day.  These preserved memories allowed me to see how I learned to love, celebrate, appreciate and live.  And, now, in turn, I teach my children the same.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

30 Discoveries from My 30s

So...as I have said, I'm turning 40. I'm getting all reflective and nostalgic in my mid-life. These are in no particular order or relevance. They are as they come to mind:

It really is never too late to say "I'm Sorry." When Dakota first told me he hated me and never wished I was his mother, it was a dagger in my heart. I immediately called my Mom and apologized to her for ever saying that to her when I was a kid.

Motherhood is one of the hardest things I have ever done. I had a pretty romantic ideal of what it would mean to be a mother before I had children. I didn't know how tired I would be. I didn't know how much I would worry. And I didn't know how delightfully painful loving my children would be.

Postpartum Depression is real.

Cosmopolitans.

Rag Doll cats are really very therapeutic for a hyper kid or a stressed out adult.

I'm glad my father taught me how to drive a stick shift. It came in handy as our first two cars of our marriage where sticks. I would've hated for Jonas to have to teach me to drive a stick. Can't be good for a marriage.

I really am a much better person if I am flexing my creative juices.

I still don't like seafood. In the past ten years I have tried shrimp, squid, octopus, lobster, halibut, white fish...and I STILL don't like it. I'm done trying.

How to make kick-ass margaritas.

Getting rid of unwanted hair professionaly is not only important but neccessary.

If you miss Days of Our Lives for six years, you can catch up in less than 3 new episodes.

I really love Historical Fiction in books and movies.

My Soul Sistas---the friends I've adopted as sisters.

Rhode Island isn't as bad as I thought. I like it best in the Summer & Fall. I'd like to live in Colorado in the Winter & Spring.

I am mentally and emotionally stronger than I ever thought I could be.

My mom was right when she said I would regret my tattoo.

There is nothing better than a hug and kiss from my children.

Yoga rocks!

You don't get bad hang-overs from really good tequila.

Never say never. Seriously.

My body is not like it was in my 20s but I can make it be the best it can be at whatever age I am.

Medication saves lives.

Babysitters save marriages.

Following my heart or my gut has lead to many great things.

Dark Chocolate + Red Wine = Heaven

Clogs are very comfortable.

Killing head lice is a tricky and arduous task.

Saying "Because I said so" is obviously a part of the parental handbook. My parents said it and now it automatically flows from my mouth.

Saying "No" is very liberating.

How to be truly grateful beyond just saying "thank you".

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Spread the Love

Valentine's Day has never been a big favorite of mine. Really. Sure, I love to be told how loved I am and I am not one to turn away a bouquet of flowers or chocolate of any kind. Of course, now that I am married, I do like the funny greeting cards Jonas gives me and have come to expect them in the morning along with breakfast in bed. This year brought a hilarious cave-man themed version along with my favorite muffin. Regardless of the niceties I enjoy on February 14, it never really made sense to me why people choose one day in which to show their feelings when there are 364 other perfectly good days.

The basic history of Valentine's Day is simple. It began a few hundred years ago in celebration of a couple of martyrs named "Valentine." As the English courts flourished and "courtly love" came into fashion with Chaucer in the late 1300's, the expression of love in written form became more and more popular. In the United States, the first mass-produced cards were produced and sold shortly after 1847 by Esther Howland of Worcester, MA. Esther, the entrepreneur she was, took her inspiration from an English valentine greeting she had received and created her own out of embossed paper and lace. So we can thank the English for today's modern Valentine's Day celebration. Since then, Valentine's Day, like so many of our other holidays, has become mass-produced and mass-marketed to make businesses masses of money.

Remember elementary school when you had to bring in a Valentine for everyone in your class...even for the kid that wiped boogers on you or the one that ate paste in the corner? It was a good lesson in the Golden Rule. My kids still have this practice at school. Truth be told, they love it...more for the candy that is attached to the greetings than anything else. When Dakota was in first grade and Audrey in PK, we started making collages for our Valentine's. The kids have fun doing it and it is more economical. They each use a picture of themselves from the past year and create a greeting with drawings and stickers. I then scan and print the collages and these become their cards. This year, they taped heart-shaped peppermint patties to them for a minty message.

My 40th year is bringing a lot of time for reflecting. This February, while making these collages with the kids, I was trying to recall any memorable Valentine's Day. I wanted to give the day some significant meaning and purpose. I remember two: one with Dad and one with Jonas.

When I was little, Dad always gave me a Valentine card and present. No matter what. He actually continued this practice until I got married. Hey, Dad, why did you stop? The one I remember most was a yellow umbrella. There was really nothing that special about the umbrella other than it was mine and it was yellow...oh, and Dad gave it to me for Valentine's Day. I loved that umbrella and actually kept and used it from elementary school through college and into my first job. There is actually a picture of me in college with my friend Cindy walking in the rain under my yellow umbrella. It made it in our local newspaper. Every time I used that umbrella, I thought of Dad and how much he loves me.

It was February 14, 1995. I woke up and found some flowers that Jonas hid in my house the day before. We decided to get dressed up and go to our favorite Italian restaurant. There is a picture of us before we left I have hanging in our home: we are both young, thin and happy (not necessarily in that order). The most important memory I have of that night was looking at Jonas across the table and knowing that I was going to marry him. I'd never really felt that before and it was weird because we had only been "officially" dating since December. But when I looked in his eyes and laughed with him, I felt like I was home. A month later, we were engaged and then were married by December 30, 1995. When I look at the picture, it brings me back to the genesis of our love and reminds me of why we are still chugging along today.

Neither of these experiences really has anything to do with Valentine's Day. Sure, the events happened on February 14 of some year, but it could have and would have been any other day. Dad still would have loved me and probably would have given me my beloved yellow umbrella. Jonas still would have made my heart skip a beat whether it was over spaghetti or our favorite chicken burrito. My point is that Valentine's Day is only as magical as you make it, but why wait? Why not make any ordinary day just as special? It takes two seconds to say "I Love You." (yes, I've timed myself). It takes 5 maybe 10 minutes to write a note of affection or encouragement. One second to say "Thank You." A minimum of 2 seconds to hug someone, although I prefer about a 30 second squeeze. One day has 86400 seconds. Why not use few of those seconds every day to hug, thank and spread the love?

Sunday, February 8, 2009

In Search of True Gratitude

Ever noticed how easy it is to be thankful for something you really want or you truly like? People are more inclined to pour on the gratitude when you give them something from their wish list or when everything goes exactly as planned. How many times do you hear people who win something say, "Thank you, Jesus!" and then turn and curse God's will when it isn't quite right? "Why? Why? Why?" they ask over and over. For me, it is much easier to praise the goodness of dark chocolate than, let's say, cooked cabbage.

I've been to a couple of workshops on gratitude. The whole premise of both workshops was to find gratitude in everyday things. The big idea is that if you are a gracious person; you are a happy person. At one point, I even followed Oprah's suggestion and wrote down in a daily journal all things I am thankful for that moment. I look back and things range from U2 to my husband to rainy days...all things that bring me some sort of pleasure. One workshop leader suggested for us to try to find gratitude in the mundane. His primary example was sidewalks. "Imagine," he said (I am paraphrasing...don't have that great of memory), "our world without sidewalks? Your feet would be muddy and it wouldn't be that easy to walk around the neighborhoods. Isn't your life so much easier with sidewalks?" Well, what do you know, it IS much better!

Lately I've been pondering the actual power of feeling gracious. How the simple task of truly appreciating something for what it is can raise your attitude, mood and whole state of mind to a higher place of being. This week I decided to do a little project to take my graciousness a step further: finding gratitude in things that I really, really hate. Yes, hate is a strong word, but I wanted to challenge myself because it is easy to find the good in things you kind of don't like; that's why you only kind of don't like them. Here is my list from this week of four things I hate but am grateful for:

Getting My Teeth Cleaned: Now, this sounds like a pretty inane thing to hate. You just lay in the chair and someone polishes up your pearly whites. But, I cannot stand getting my teeth cleaned. I hate the scrapping and the sucking and the dripping. I hate the grinding and the blowing and the flossing. I really hate it when the hygienist slips and jabs her instrument into my gum. Ow! Ugh, just thinking about it send chills down my spine. So, while I was laying there, I tried to find my gratitude and an image came to mind of all those characters in period themed movies. You know, the ones with people in big clothes and big hair who lived in the 1500s? Well, in the movies they always show the rich people having these perfectly straight white teeth and then the poor have the black, gunked up mouths with half the teeth missing. In reality. at that time most everyone had gunked up teeth as well as missing ones because there was very poor dental hygiene. There was only so much cleaning they could do with a stick and when they got a cavity, they pulled the tooth out. In fact, Queen Elizabeth (1533-1603), although being the most powerful person in England, was known to have had black teeth and she was missing so many teeth by the end of her life that it was difficult for her courtiers to understand what she said. Toothbrushes and dental hygiene as we know it today didn't come into play until the early 1900's. And you know what, I am grateful that I live in a time where we have such amazing dental care. I have all my teeth, although I do have to get a crown on one due to an old filling (at least it isn't getting pulled!), and I will more than likely have all of them when I'm old and gray. So scrape and grind away all you want! I won't complain. I'll check 'em out in the mirror afterwards and say thank you, thank you, thank you. I'll just take a few Alieve next time before I go.

My Stomach: Ask any woman and there is something about her body that she doesn't like. I get this. I actually have a few things about my body that I don't particularly like but I can be thankful for: my thighs are big, but they've carried me this far; my butt is voluptuous but it's strong and a good place to give a piggy back ride: my breasts aren't very big, but they are a soft landing for a crying child while I hold them. My stomach, well, it really annoys me. I hate that I didn't get the flat tummy gene. Now, I've never really had a super flat stomach, even at my thinnest. It has always had a little curve to it that I liked well enough. But now, after two kids, its not so much a curve as a bulge and on top of it, it is all wrinkly. The doctors I've seen simply tell me it is all a part of having babies. Really? I have these two gorgeous sisters-in-laws who have both had two kids and their stomach are smooth and probably even flatter than before they gave birth. "It is called good genes," they retort. In the summer, my little green jealously monster growls every time I see them in their bathing suits (at least I can admit it). GRRRRR! So this morning, after my shower, I was looking at my stomach, trying, trying, trying to be gracious. With my hands pressed against my flesh, I could remember how thrilled I was the first time I felt my babies kick. Dakota, my first born, was a fighter. Jonas called him "the bully in the belly" because he moved around so much. Audrey was more of a little tap dancer. Her gentle taps and tickles made me laugh more than groan. All of it was awe inspiring because I knew they were really there, really growing, really being inside me. Both times after giving birth, I missed having them with me all the time, but I found it fascinating to watch them wriggle around on the bed and having the ah-hah moment of: "so that's what you were doing in there!" Can I really hate what my body has become because of my children? I wanted them dearly and cherished every moment they were with me. So my marks, wrinkles and pooches are now my emblems of honor; evidence of life's miracle. Without my glorious children; I wouldn't have them. But, don't expect to see me in a bikini any time soon! I'm not feeling that gracious.

Doing Laundry: OK, so this is truly a drudgery for me...it makes my weekly grindstone a little harder to push. I still cannot believe that I know people who actually love doing laundry. They love the challenge of getting out the most stubborn stains. They drool when there are condiments on the table, not for the taste but for the fight they'll have later with their stain sticks. They love the smell and feel of fresh-out-of-the-dryer clothes. They actually fold their clothes right when they come out of the dryer instead of leaving them in a laundry basket for a couple of days. Me, well, I really hate doing laundry. It seems like such a thankless job; once you think you are finished, you go into the bedrooms and find more! In reality, you are never truly done with laundry; there is always something (hello, you're wearing it) that could use a washing. Given that this task isn't going away and no one else around here will do it all, I decided to add it to my graciousness challenge. There is the basic, yet very important, awareness that I am simply thankful that I have clothes to wash. In this country alone, there are over 800,000 homeless people each week. The majority of these people only have the clothes on their backs, perhaps a change in their bag--not to mention that not only do they not have a home, or clothes, but they also don't have a washing machine to keep the clothes they do have clean. Speaking of those washing machines...My great grandmothers and those before them had to do laundry by hand...boiling in big pots and scrubbing on a washboard. At least I have one. Thank God (did I just say that?) Yes, thank God I have clothes and a home and a washing machine. I am so thankful that I have laundry because it means that I am safe, secure and sheltered along with my family. I will never look at another dirty towel the same again.

My Kids Living Room Forts: Part of having kids is having a mess. In my perfect imaginary world, my kids would take one thing out at a time and put it away before they take out another. I know, I know. They do this at school! I am just too lazy to make them do it at home all the time plus I don't have a principal here. Maybe I should hire one? I could make an office out of an extra room in the basement. Hmmm? Living on the East Coast in the winter time, leaves not much to do outside and a lot of energy couped up inside. My kids have taken the idea of mess to a whole new level. On the weekends, my kids love to build a fort. This fort isn't just in the living room; this fort IS the living room. They take every possible pillow, cushion & blanket they can find and construct a new structure each time. When I walk in, my initial reaction is always a few breaths that verge on hyperventilation. I see the signs they have made for the "kitty hotel" and the tunnels they have made toward the "warming room." They have areas that are specifically created for watching television and others for playing games and even more for their stuffed animal friends. I look at all the stuff all over the place and instead of yelling at them to "clean up this mess now", I crawl through it and marvel at their creativity. This is something that no Wii game or Nintendo could offer. I listen as they tell me their plans for next time and how much our animals love to sneak around and sleep in their little spaces. On top of all this, I realize that they did it all together. They actually spent a half hour or so, working in conjunction with each other and not fighting. These messy, all encompassing forts offer them an opportunity to bond and to create childhood memories they will cherish forever. If you see my brother, ask him if he remembers our fort behind the big pecan tree in Sherman, TX.

I'm asking myself to try to continue this trend: to look beyond the face value of an experience or a person or an item to find what makes me grateful. I'm not dilligent about keeping a daily journal and I'm not certain that every time graciousness will be the first feeling that comes to mind when facing the unlovable. So for now, all I can say for my new gr-attitude is "Thank You, Jesus!"