How Did This Happen?

How Did This Happen?

Peter is a dedicated binge watcher of shows from beginning to end. It’s admirable, really. I don’t have the attention span and end up abandoning the project. (Damages, The Closer)

Since Peter usually watches in the living room, I’m constantly in and out of the room. At first, it’s just noise but then I stop for a second, ask a question, and then two. And then I sit down to “just watch this scene.” And every time, I get sucked in and addicted. It happened with Criminal Minds, which I initially hated and then found myself craving. Hadley got sucked in too. Finn hated it because he found it too upsetting. (FYI: He used to find Spongebob upsetting.)

We caught up to the current episodes on Criminal Minds so Peter set off to find another show with 4 or more seasons to binge watch and Blue Bloods caught his eye.

From Wikipedia: The series follows the Irish-American Reagan family of police officers with the NYPD.  Francis “Frank” Reagan (Tom Selleck – MAGNUM PI!) is the Police Commissioner . He was a US Marine Corps officer and a Vietnam veteran before he joined the NYPD. He is a 9/11 First Responder, a widower whose son Joe was murdered in the line of duty, and has three other adult children—Danny, Erin, and Jamie.

The family reminds me a lot of my own Irish-American Catholic family sometimes which makes me heart smile. Loud, opinionated, loyal, loving, and funny. They have dinner together every Sunday night and say the same prayer before dinner that I said growing up. The father and grandfather in the show have qualities similar to my Dad and I nod and smile when they do or say something my Dad would. My mom watches the show and loves it. 

Every time Tom Selleck comes on screen and does anything I’ll randomly say “Good idea, Magnum.” I love him and he’s such a great presence on screen.

One of the adult kids, Danny, is played by Donnie Wahlberg. He of the New Kids on The Block fame. I hadn’t really seen him in anything and he’s surprisingly good at that realistic, intense street cop thing. But I never thought about him or thought anything other than “oh, he’s a surprisingly good actor”.

But then I had a dream about him a few nights ago.

In the dream, we were romantically entangled. I remember being in the dream and saying “Wait, what? YOU?!? What are you doing here? Where’s Tom Selleck?”

I do not have a crush on Donnie Wahlberg but my damn subconscious does.

So the next morning, at the urging of my subconscious, who is like a teen girl, I googled everything about Donnie Wahlberg.

Did you know he has a show on VH1 called Donny Loves Jenny.

 

 

You know what happens next, don’t you?

Yup.

I watched 3 episodes.

And it was really cute, actually. They’re adorable and funny and in love. I normally do not like reality TV (except Survivor!) because it’s negative and usually involves a lot of fighting and yelling. But with Donnie Loves Jenny,  they said they wanted to put out a positive show, which I thought was sweet. I’m on the fence about Jenny McCarthy. She seems like a nice, funny woman but that whole vaccine crusade thing really rubbed me the wrong way. I suppose it’s not entirely her fault though. Yes, she was insanely vocal about anti-vaxxing issues but it was the idiot public who proclaimed her Dr. Autism and started quoting her non-scientific viewpoint.

I digress.

So, after watching him with his wife and her darling autistic son and how sweet Donnie is to the kid, now my crush is real.

And I’m so irritated about it because it wasn’t my idea.

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It’s Not What You Think

It’s Not What You Think

Peter’s on my laptop a lot doing various things, or I should probably say UNdoing various things that I have unknowingly done, to make my computer run better.

One day recently he said “What is this file on your desktop?”

“What file?” I say.

He points to it and says “I always forget to ask you about it.”

It’s a JPG with the name “masterbat…”

I immediately start laughing and have been laughing every time I think of it.

This is the file, which is a picture.

Get it?

MASTER BATH. (I enjoy the tiling, floor, rug, and glass door)

But the “H” was cut off.

MASTERBAT(the invisible “e” is from your dirty imagination)

I think he was expecting something a little more titillating.

Laughing again.

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Hustle

Hustle

I’m terribly bored of myself and all of my ridiculous ailments. Being chronically ill makes one insanely self-involved. Let’s just say that there’s more wrong with me and I’m dealing.

Peter Provost is the best man. Pure and simple. And I have the best mom and sister in the world.

I brought my mom to an appointment yesterday and she might as well have been carrying me like a baby. That’s how safe and secure I felt as a 39 year old lady bringing my mama with me. It was lovely.

I talked to Meg recently and was blathering on about my woes and she had really helpful, loving, practical advice. So practical, in fact, that I told her to hold on while I got a pen. Actually started taking notes. She was so on point and knowledgeable. It was the equivalent of someone taking you by the shoulders, looking you in the eye, and saying “LISTEN, simmer down you’re hysterical. Now, do x, y and z.”

Ah.

She’s a smart girl, that Dr. Meg. Glad I don’t have to make an appointment and wait 3 weeks to see her. 

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Shell

Shell

I wish I could explain it to people. I try. But you don’t know unless you’ve experienced it. Being pushed off a cliff into the depths of despair.

It can happen regardless of your life situation.

I am happier than I ever have been in my entire life. I have a wonderful life and yet I am depressed.

Really depressed. Not “I’m so depressed my favorite show was cancelled.”

No.

Lying-on-the-floor-staring-at-the-ceiling-while–you-sob-uncontrollably-depressed.

It’s very common with chronic illness. It bound to wear you down being in pain all of the time. I have been on an anti-depressant since shortly after being diagnosed with lupus. And with my recent back surgery, the pain has been endless and seemingly insurmountable.

I know some people think depression is a weakness, that life is sad. That you should be able to buck up and pull yourself out of it.

There is no pulling yourself out of this.

It’s horribly dark and so hopeless and scary.

I just felt empty. Hollow.

I’ve known for a while that my antidepressant wasn’t fully doing its job.

For YEARS my psychiatrist has been trying to get me off of my current antidepressant because he didn’t think it was right for me. I kept saying no. Why rock the boat? I deal with so much medical bullshit and so many other medications that the thought of transitioning to a new medication did not appeal.

Looks like my body made the decision for me. Three days before Christmas.

Ho fucking ho.

As I said, it felt like I had been pushed off a cliff.

And then suddenly, I was drowning.

I was paralyzed. Couldn’t get out of bed. Didn’t want to eat. Couldn’t help with the kids at all. My whole body hurt. I couldn’t think straight.

Luckily, I am married to the ultimate human being and have a superhero bestie who came bearing vegan ice cream sandies and laid in bed with me while I cried. She may as well have been wearing a cape.

I finally got my doctor on the phone, explained the situation and med changes were quickly made.

And now I wait. And experience all of the quirky and horrible side effects that come with transitioning off of one medication and onto another.

***The above was written December 22***

Today is January 6 and just YESTERDAY did I start to feel like me again. I showered and actually left the house. I smiled genuinely for the first time in WEEKS and it felt SO GOOD. I can not even explain the feeling. I was jubilant. I felt free.

I debated whether or not to even post this. While talking to Meg though, she helped me realize it’s not something I’m ashamed of and if anything, posting this will educate someone or help someone else feel like they are less alone.

PS – If you do happen to know someone who is struggling with depression, do not, under any circumstances say anything like this to them “But you’re pretty and skinny. What do you have to be depressed about?” Because you might get punched in the teeth.

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Coming Up for Air

Coming Up for Air

It’s common in my life to go for periods where I feel like I’m swimming underwater. Life is going on around me and I’m aware of it and functioning but it’s all kind of a blur and I can’t hear very well or retain anything. (is that old age? Sweet Jesus, I’m 38!)

You’ll be happy to know I’ve come up for air.

All of my tests came back “normal” from my visit to the rheumatologist, which you think would be great but my issues continued. There was literally the equivalent of a “shrug” on the phone when I talked to the physician’s assistant. Super helpful, thanks!

After scrutinizing my meds, I decided (notice the word “I”) to tweek a few things and voila, instant success. So now I feel the usual crappy instead of extra extra crappy with crap on top. SUCCESS! No really, I feel triumphant.

Things are finally settling down with the return to school and we’re getting into the swing of things.

:::insert contented sigh:::

HJ has been talking about Halloween since the beginning of August. Daily. And at length. She changes her costume idea every half hour but I’m sure it’ll be some variation on mermaid/zombie/pop star/alien. She flips right to the adult section of the costume catalog and sighs dramatically, “The adults have all of the GOOD costumes!” And by “good costumes” she means the slutty witch, the slutty nurse, the slutty zombie, the slutty doll or the slutty alien.

She sweetly picked out the costume she wants me to buy and wear because it would be PERFECT for me.

Behold:

I know. It’s uncanny, right? I mean, how could my kid pick out the EXACT outfit that I would like to tromp around in at the end of October in Colorado? Hello perfect. Those shorts look comfy too, like I could bend and squat in them. I would for sure wear those again.

A-hem.

The blue eyed devils have been extra cute lately, and by lately, I mean this morning. Ask me this afternoon at 5:34pm and I’ll tell you I never said they were extra cute.

I digress.

Hadley and I are in the midst of redesigning her room and her sketches and ideas are so super fantastical and creative. I love it. I promised her she could do whatever she wanted. It’s going to be nutty, y’all. Must remember it is not my design aesthetic. It is an extension of her personality and creative self. (I’m telling myself this more than I’m telling you.)

We are now to the part where I tell you cute stuff my people said:

• Hadley (9) calls her shoulder blades her “wings” and I love it so much. She knows they are shoulder blades but I squealed with such delight when she first said it years ago that she just continued saying it. I love to envision my little rare bird as some winged creature.

 

• Finn (7) has his share of good ones too. The way he thinks about things is so interesting, much like my darling PGP. This morning he was talking about a costume and told me he didn’t know what the “money temperature” of the costume was but he would find out.

Enjoy this video of Gala Darling’s wedding. I smiled, sighed, teared up, and felt like my heart would burst all at the same time. Don’t you just love love?

Happy Wednesday, little garden gnomes.

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3+8

3+8

My birthday was glorious. Lots of love. SO much of it. I continue to be surrounded by love and light, which feels pretty good. How did I get so lucky?

I felt as if I had been celebrating my birthday for a while after having such a wonderful Asheville trip and then various loveliness sprinkled about (brunches and lunches with fab friends) before the actual DAY of my birthday. So when it arrived I wasn’t prepared.

The most fantastic PGP made THE most beautiful and delicious dinner for my birthday: Broiled Blackened Tofu, Butternut coconut brown rice, and jerk asparagus. (all recipes from Isa Chandra Moskowitz’s brilliant cookbook “Appetite for Reduction”)

Then…THEN, he also made a vegan birthday cake, that I swear tasted better than most regular cake I’ve had.

E was with us that evening for dinner, which made the dinner extra celebratory.

I kept squealing with delight throughout the meal, that all of this fabulousness was made for me. Throughout this whole “eating for health” journey of mine, Peter has been nothing but supportive and sweet, when he could easily roll his eyes and turn up his nose. I admire that and appreciate it more than he could ever know.

I maintain that my dear husband is my most favorite gift of all time.

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Where’s he been?

Where’s he been?

That line from Raising Arizona popped into my head when I starting writing this post. Remember that scene where relatives Gale and Evelle Snoats are visiting Hi and Earl H.I. and Ed and they read the sign that says “WELCOME HOME SON!” Then they turn to H.I. and Ed and say “Where’s he been?”  It always makes me laugh. What in that movie DOESN’T make me laugh? Such a classic. (Edited later: Many thanks to “Anonymous” who corrected names for me. I prefer to call him “my brother” though, instead of “Anonymous”, it just sounds better.)

I haven’t blogged in many moons. What can I say? I got sucked up into summer and any spare minute is spent doing nothing or everything. I have also felt extremely pedestrian and like nothing I’m doing could possibly be of any interest.

However, here I sit, ready to regale you with bits and pieces from the land of Suburbia. In a list, of course, which is what I seem to be doing lots of lately. List-making that is. I have 5 going right now with all of the things that must be done before we can leave for Asheville, NC on Wednesday. This family needs a good dose of Grammy and Bompie and to relax with the rest of our family. This town rules. It really is so fantastic. I’m looking forward to doing LOTS of nothing.

This summer I vowed to do more with the kids and I’m freaking exhausted. I have a love/hate relationship with summer. There are aspects of it I love: lazy days, more light, berries, swimming, picnics, having nothing that we HAVE to do, driveways drinks with my neighbors. But the part I fear and dread is being a full time camp counselor. And believe me people, I have been one this summer. And I think I’ve been a pretty freaking good one. I’m tired. Quite honestly, I’m tired of them being here all of the time. I’m tired of the house never really being clean because they are always here. I’m tired of not having one minute to myself, unless it is the time between when they go to bed and when I fall asleep, which is roughly 45 minutes, and no, that does not count as quality self time.

Rant over. I love my little sun kissed wombats. I really really do. But I wouldn’t be too terribly upset if the school called and said “Mrs. Provost, it’s an emergency! We need the children back immediately!”

Oh sure, I would fake disappointment for their sake, but inside I would be planning out my first few days of freedom.

Things that have been making me happy lately:

• Peter. In all of his Peterness.Lovely small surprises sprinkled throughout a week can make one’s heart sing, you know? It’s the small things. 
• sneaking out on my life one night last week alone, going to my fave joint for a black bean burger and then taking myself to see Midnight in Paris, which deserves a post of its own. I absolutely loved it. Combine my love of Paris with my love of literature, art and quirky creativity and voila: Midnight in Paris.
• Mango popsicles
• New Fleet Foxes
• Deep breathing
• Jon Stewart
• the first few sips of a refreshing cranberry/vodka are unmatched after a sweaty, action packed day.
• Meeting my most lovely mom to see the movie Beginners yesterday. I loved this as well. It was quiet and perhaps dragged a bit but I was along for the ride and enjoyed the story and creative filmmaking.
• cows. I’ve come across a few recently and have melted. Fascinating creatures.
• reveling in the awesomeness of my friend E’s new baby girls. Every time someone I love has a baby, it’s like I’ve never seen one before, like I haven’t had TWO myself! I am just in awe of a new little person fresh to the world. I’m also delighted at how it all just comes back to me…I think “Oh, I don’t know what to do with a teeny baby!” And then BAM! You’re in the thick of it: the holding, the diapering, the feeding, the burping. Just like riding a bike. Such a sweet time. Exhausting as hell, but sweet.
• VEGGIES! I had an artichoke for dinner a few nights ago and Peter laughed at me because I just kept moaning about how good it was. And it was.  

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Science is cool

Science is cool

We are a science loving family. Big time. Everything is a potential science experiment. I mean EVERYTHING. (PGP lives here after all.) So there was much excitement when Finn’s kindergarten teacher sent out a letter saying they were having a Science Fair. Love it! It’s never to early to start getting your science on.

Finny P loved the whole process and was SO into it. Peter, of course, the ultimate science fair pro, having done a trillion, was the master. (Honestly, I don’t think I have ever done one. Ever.) There was lots of hypothesizing and analyzing. As well as lots of creative juices involved in making the poster.

(note: He wanted to put the “6” next to his name so people would know he is 6 years old. It took everything I had not to object and rip it off and freak out and take control of the entire project. (exhale) BUT, I didn’t and it turned out exactly as it should. He was so proud explaining his experiment to everyone. (He made little tin foil boats in various shapes and then tested to see how many pennies each one could hold. Groundbreaking stuff.)

I watched Peter at the Science Fair today and smiled from afar. He went up to each child and asked what they learned from their experiment. He asked questions, was genuinely interested, and listened patiently as these 5 and 6 year olds rattled off what they learned. It was terribly sweet and a lovely reminder of why I love him so.

Here’s to many more Science Fairs!

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Ski Bums

Ski Bums

(I forgot to post this on Monday. I re-read it and desperately want to edit, but I’m not allowing myself. Pictures added today.)

The kids are on Spring Break this week and I am READY. Tons of plans in the works, starting with taking them skiing today. Peter took off the day from work and we left super early.

We saw some beautiful bison on the way up. Gorgeous creatures.

I’m sitting in the lodge at Loveland watching Team Provost take on the mountain. So so so sweet! Bittersweet, actually. (I’ll explain in a minute) Peter is snowboarding and the kids are skiing for the first time. They’re naturals! I love it and am kicking myself for not getting them on skis sooner. (although judging from Peter’s sporadic texts send from the slopes, it sounds like my little Finn is getting pissed easily. He’s a perfectionist and if he’s not perfect at something the first time, he doesn’t want to do it.)

I haven’t taken them skiing sooner because we just didn’t make it a priority. Or “I” didn’t make it a priority. (I don’t know how it is in your house but if this mama doesn’t plan shit, nothing gets done.)

I loathe being cold. Loathe it. My hands and feet freeze, as does my nose. I’m not talking the usual “I’m skiing. it’s a little brisk.” No. It’s serious business. I know I’ve mentioned it before that I have Raynaud’s Syndrome, but people have no idea what that means.

My hands, feet and nose get so cold, I can’t feel them. My college gal pals used to call them “dead hands.” They go bluish white and numb. The numbness could go on for hours, even after I go inside. Sometimes it’s just a few fingers. Then they get red and hot and hurt, until they finally calm down to a normal temperature. It fucking sucks. I’m not a wimp. I can’t “buck up.” There are no magical gloves that will keep this from happening. (Believe me, my dad and I tried every single pair at REI when I was younger and would go ski.) When we got here today, while renting boots and skis, I actually had the familiar sinking, panicky feeling I got when I used to ski. I had to tell myself “Oh no, lady. You’re not going. You have hot tea, your laptop, magazines and a Larabar waiting for you in the warmth.”

I tried to buck up so I could go get some pictures of them starting out. But that didn’t last long. I actually had to run inside because after being outside for 20 minutes, it had started and I couldn’t feel my feet, hands or nose.

Keep in mind, it is SPRING here in Colorado. It’s like 45 degrees and BEAUTIFUL. A bit windy, but beautiful. There’s no way I could be up here in the winter.

Before you ask, yes I had on enough clothes. Yes, I was wearing wool socks and boots. Yes, I was wearing the warmest mittens you can buy. Yes, I was wearing a scarf and hat. Yes to all of the questions you might ask me yourself and that I have been asked a million times. Nothing helps but getting out of the cold.

I’m a little pissed today because I wish I didn’t have an ailment where this happens. (I’ve been in stores before where if the air is too cold, it’ll happen.) Not to even mention the beautiful sun which is SHINING. No sun for lupus girl. No cold weather for lupus girl.

While buying tickets for Peter and the kids, the guy behind the counter said “Where’s your gear? What’s wrong with you? Get on the mountain!”

I smiled and said something about needing to catch up on some reading but the truth is I kind of wanted to cry. Yes, another instance where I look like nothing is wrong with me. (I know I know, I should feel grateful that it’s not something worse. And that I have two legs, etc but this is my pity party so just shut it for one second.)

(sidebar: Even though I overshare quite frequently, I pride myself on NOT being that jackass who says “Yeah, I can’t ski because I have lupus and Raynaud's syndrome and blah blah blah. I was at Target the other day and said to the checker “Hey, how are you?” and she said, in a VERY leading manner “Well, I’m FANTASTIC!!!!!!!!”

“Fantastic? You never hear that. That’s great.” I said.

“Well, today is my birthday and I’m very lucky to be alive.” she said looking at me dramatically.

I hate leading statements.

She wants me to ask why she’s lucky to be alive.

I’m not going to.

Because you know what?

I could answer “Guess what, asshole? ME TOO!”

I didn’t say anything. She finished checking me out and tried her gimmick on the next victim customer.)

But today, I’m pissed because I’m not out there with the rest of my team taking on the day.

End of pity party.

On the plus side, my hair looks really good and I’m not wearing uncomfortable ski boots. Those things are brutal.

More pics of the blue eyed devils on the mountain!

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Thursday Loves

Thursday Loves

Sister and I were having one of daily chats when we started talking about whether we’re introverts or extroverts. I know people see me as an extrovert, and I am, but I’m also quite an introvert. Meg said ‘You’re an extroverted introvert”, you get energy by being alone to fuel your extroverted-ness.”

I like that.

So, now just as I envision a car filling up with gas when I’m eating really well, I now do the same when I’m alone. (I’m all about visualization.)

Peter is in Seattle until tomorrow and while I miss his sweet beardy face and can’t wait to hug and squeeze him, there is something to be said for having time apart. (He works from home and is in a tie with my brother, A, as the loudest talker in all of the land.)

He arrives home tomorrow on the day our sweet rare bird turns 9. NINE. As in, I have a 9 year old daughter. As in, my nine year old is a total tween. WHA? Oh sweet Lady Jane. Where did the years go? I’m hoping she is a late bloomer and continues her love of all things creepy, arty and eccentric. The mean girls swarm but so far HJ has been immune to it. Shine on, you crazy diamond.

Here are some things that are making me love life:

• TWO of my girlfriends are having twins. It’s has been so exciting thinking about it and anticipating the arrival of four new, fantastic humans. And I often find myself in AWE of these women with TWO babies wriggling around in their wombs. GAWD.
• Almond butter on banana. Perfection.
• the weather here in CO the last few days. Unbelievable soul and mood fuel. 65 and SUNNY. It makes me miss the 1976 CJ7 Jeep I drove in my teens. That car was perfect for days like these.
• Boulder Veggie bowl with gluten free teriyaki and brown rice at Tokyo Joe’s. Mmmmm…serious goodness.
• Coming Clean…Things I never told my parents made me laugh out loud. It reminded of a time when my Dad and I went out to breakfast when I was about 22. We were laughing reminiscing. For some reason I decided to tell him that one day in high school when they thought I was at school, we had really driven to Taos. He wanted to be pissed but he couldn’t. We laughed and laughed. (The really hilarious part of the story is that I called, like a good daughter, and said that I was at A’s house and A’s phone wasn’t working so I would talk to them the next day. (um, good one, dumbass) My dad said “Nah. You can come home tonight. Be here by 7pm.  You did not say “no” to Roger.  It was like Noon or something so I knew I had to hustle. (we ditched school to drive to New Mexico that morning) So, I freak out and A and I drive from Taos home to Denver in totally shitty weather. (Meanwhile, the only money I had was my parent’s Phillips 66 gas card. Serious dumbass) When I get home, ready for all hell to break loose, my parents WEREN’T EVEN HOME. They had gone to a dinner party!  Jerkfaces. My Dad thought THAT was hilarious.
• Sharpening pencils. There is something oddly meditative about it.
• My bed, or as I now call it, “the command center.” 

      

• love this pic by Nathan Coley

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Artsy Fartsy

Artsy Fartsy

I volunteer once a week at the kid’s school in the art room. I want to make sure that in addition to helping in the classroom with academics, the brilliance of art programs don’t get ignored.

The art teacher, Mrs. O, rules, of course. She’s young, creative, interesting, smart and artistic. (duh) I do whatever she needs me to do and I so look forward to it. For one, there aren’t any children there when I volunteer. (Bonus!) They are at lunch. So it’s quiet and deliciously meditative. Mrs. O goes to lunch too, so we chat for a bit, she tells me what she needs done, and then she leaves. I put on my iPod and get to work. It’s deeply satisfying being in a room that is swirling with imaginative energy and fantastical creations. I’ll have to bring my camera next time. It’s badass.

Last month, when I was in the room, Mrs. O told me that she selected Hadley to participate in an art show. Accordingly, we made a huge deal about it at home, as it is a big deal. Rare Bird’s first art show. One of many, I’m sure.

All of the work is being shown at a local mall for a week. We went on Saturday to check it out.

They are allowed to create whatever they want during art class. Hadley made a dog and a mouse out of old ribbon rolls.

Here’s Finn dutifully posing. While looking at all of the other art, he said something profound like “This sucks. Can we go to the toy store?”

So we did.

At the toy store, Peter found the game KinderBunnies and immediately grabbed it. Apparently, he has played the adult version, KillerBunnies, and wanted to try the kid version out. I’m down with anything that gets us spending time together and gets the kids thinking.

The game is really fun and the kids LOVED it. I’m sure adding to the fun of the game was the fact that Peter and I agreed to play the game in the fort the kids built. We also agreed to eat take out for dinner in the fort. (note: Peter, aka Old Man River, was not pleased about sitting on the floor. He made it known and had trouble walking when he got up.)

While it was a bit of a pain in the ass, it was SO novel that the kids were freaking out and squealing with delight. I kept leaning over to Peter saying “This is fun. We’re fun parents, right? Say this is fun. They’ll remember this, right? And think we were fun, right? I mean while they are talking to their therapist about something else we screwed up….”

+++

My cleanse ended on Monday and while I was a bit sad, because I like structure, I just realized I can continue to eat this way. So I am! Modified, of course. Vegetarian flirting with Veganism. Trying to avoid gluten and dairy because it makes lupus happier. I am allowing sugar back onto the scene and I welcomed her with HUGE open arms. We did have to have a heart to heart though about her controlling ways.

It’s 65 and sunny here. Just try to ruin my mood.

XO

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Rough Re-entry

Rough Re-entry

We’re back.

Sigh.

                                             view from our house

Post vacation blues are a bitch.

I’m coming out of it slowly, but the return to my life was bumpy. Change is hard. I wanted to sell everything and move to Sayulita. Immediately. All sorts of crazy things were churning through my brain.

Luckily, Peter has become adept at taming my crazies and sweetly brought me back to planet earth.

We don’t have to move there. We can just go again.

Duh.

Sayulita was magical. That word sums it up. The house was beautiful. Being with my besties was effortless and rejuvenating. The kids were great. The food was beyond fantastic. I FELT GOOD. Alert the presses. Aside from mild fatigue, my body felt great! It was the best vacation ever.

Our house was really beautiful and perfect for 4 families. Aside from the fact that we were up the hill from a Rooster farm (those fuckers cock-a-doodle-do constantly. It’s not just in the morning. Do NOT missing hearing that) everything was superb. We had a great walk into town, including a huge hill so a workout was built into the day, which I loved, as I have to be tricked into working out.

I also loved having my kids experience the laid back vibe of Mexico. The dirt streets with chickens and stray dogs meandering around. A constant smattering of Spanish in the air. Different food. Different culture. More than anything it made me want to travel more. To show them more of the world. Not everyone lives like they do. In fact, most of the world does not.

Life was so much simpler there. I didn’t get online the entire trip. 6 days. I didn’t want to. I did yoga by the pool a few mornings, breathed in the salty air and was grateful for this time spent with people whom I love so much. These girls are like my sisters. There was no drama or tumult. Just togetherness. Free and easy.

We were a little village with 8 adults and 5 kids. We looked after each other and our little offspring. I will say there is something deeply DEEPLY fantastic about having self-sufficient kids who spend the majority of the time in the ocean while I lay under a shaded chair with cocktails.

I drank more beer and ate more meat than I have in the last few years. Explain that one to me?

             Finny, HJ and the Reidy boys, Gavin and Henry in our driveway

our little surfer girl

most pics of Finn are like this. The child does not pose. Too many exciting things going on.

The big house had a little apartment attached to it, where we stayed.

stairs up to the big house

the pool behind the house. Unfortch, it was a little too chilly most of the time to swim.

The morning after we arrived, I saw these little footprints. They had just painted a wall and I assumed a cat had walked in the paint and down the stairs. So sweet. 3 days later, searching the property for the laundry room, Emily and I discovered twas not a cat at all, but an opossum. It was late at night and dark outside, I saw something move and said “Oh, that must be the kitty.” Em said “Nasty. That’s not a cat.”

Teeny paw prints are still cute.

HJ with the most delightful Camille. There was much crafting and playing and coloring.

Camille and Peter TOTALLY bonded, which Peter loved, as most little kids are freaked out by his beard and bald head. He could not get enough of her.

It probably goes without saying that this little girl had everyone wrapped around her finger.

Peter and JR relaxing by the pool.

This is what the boys were doing most of the time, when they weren’t fully immersed in episodes of Scooby Doo.

I wasn’t really a good picture taker, which I regret now. I don’t have a picture of all of the adults or myself and the girls. It takes a lot of effort to constantly be taking pictures,etc and I was just lazy.

self portrait. I’m rocking a huge hat, long sleeves and tons of sunscreen.

Adios Sayulita. See you again soon. XO

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Freedom

Freedom

The kids’ winter break starts on Friday. I am mentally preparing as if I am going to war, which I am, sort of.

I am stock piling all of my patience and ideas for fun so that I can be a good mama instead of channeling Joan Crawford in Mommy Dearest. Peter’s vacation starts on the 22nd so luckily I don’t have much solo time.

Sigh…

So, today I will finish (and by “finish” I mean “start”) shopping for Christmas. Shouldn’t be too bad. I am trying to shop local so I’ll hit up the local toy store and book store and call it a day. The kids are only getting a few things. They don’t need more crap. (Although, I would by lying if I said I wasn’t OVER THE MOON excited about Finn getting an Easy Bake Oven. I will be his best customer.)

Yesterday, I went to my usual lunch hour yoga class.  I felt murderous during the whole thing. Amped up and anxious. Tense. Ready to bite flesh or get in a fight.

This is not the norm.

The reason?

The instructor, a lovely woman who is a perfectly great yoga instructor, played FUCKING KENNY G THE WHOLE TIME.

THE WHOLE TIME.

THE WHOLE TIME.

Did I say the whole time?

An HOUR of Kenny G.

As I sat on my mat stretching and waiting for class to begin, I calmed myself down by saying ‘Surely, she’ll switch the music when she starts class. Don’t worry.” (The studio is known for great music that complements the practice.)

I have a physical reaction to Kenny G. I don’t find him relaxing or soothing or Zen.

That soprano saxophone gets into my brain and digs around like a raccoon in a garbage can, pulling out the most negative thoughts and riddling my body with malevolence. And then on some of the songs, he would sing. I audibly grunted a few times. My desire to flee was so strong that I almost grabbed my shit and left. But the class was super full and I didn’t want to ruin anyone else’s practice.

At the end of class, I stayed in savasana all of 10 seconds before I literally sprinted from the class to the safety of my car.

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eleveneleven

eleveneleven

Peter and I celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary today. I love it. I love being married. And I especially love being married to him. Words cannot accurately explain my complete and utter devotion to this person. He is my light. A bright, glorious, warm light.

Unfortunately, he’s in Germany on biz, so the kids and I are going to do it up Suburban style tonight by ordering pizza and eating cake! I’m also watching Mia and Luca so it’ll be a party of sorts.

I will lift a juice box to you, my darling husbie.

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fall break–although it really shouldn’t be called a “break”

fall break–although it really shouldn’t be called a “break”

Peter is out of town and this just happens to be the week the kids are off of school for Fall Break. Full time single momdom is really freaking hard.

AND the day after he leaves, my email stops working. OF COURSE.

I said I felt like I had “locked in syndrome.” I can receive emails but I cannot reply, as they are not leaving my outbox. Grrr.

I promised the blue eyed devils that we would do one fun thing a day. And then they couldn’t squawk about being bored for the rest of the day. I am  happy to say I made good on my promise. I am exhausted and have spent way too much money but they have actually been busy every day doing fun things. Kids love structure, as do I, so it works out. They have been pretty well behaved, and exhausted at night, which is awesome.

I am way overdoing it energy wise and start to glaze over and hobble around about 5:30. I collapse into bed at 9:30 each night. I literally have had to tell Hadley she HAS to go to bed because I have to go to bed.

We’ve painted pottery, had lunches out, went to parks (it’s been GORGEOUS this week), went to the movies, roller skated, painted pumpkins (thanks, B!), went on long scooter rides, baked things…the works.

The husbie comes home tonight and we are all looking forward to him being home. The kids have made a zillion things for him, which are all lovingly wrapped and waiting for him in a big pile.

I have a doctor’s appointment today and I am so looking forward to the alone time. That says a lot considering doctor appointments blow. It’s a rheumatologist appointment so at least there is minimal poking and prodding. Plus, who doesn’t relish quiet time in a waiting room reading the latest issues of Arthritis Today with all of the other old people!?

I have been really loving all of the spooky décor for Halloween. Not the cheesy/hokey stuff but the cool stuff that you could legitimately have in your house year round, like black feather wreaths, sparkly skulls and the like.  I let the kids buy a black skull candle that when lit, bleeds red through the eyes. Every morning, first thing, Finn reminds me to “light the skull, mom! light the skull!”

After a week of being supermom, I am fantasizing about booking a room at the new Four Seasons downtown for a night. It won’t be this weekend as we have a birthday party on Saturday and family pictures on Sunday, but that would be soooo loverly.

Especially since as I compose this post, the kids are eating cupcakes for breakfast, hitting each other and seeing how many times they can say “butt.”

I’m am totally clocking out as soon as PGP gets home.

I really love this picture and can’t find the source. Apologies!

Happy Weekend, Goblins.

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Finding each other in the cosmos

Finding each other in the cosmos

 

I really loved what Ann Druyan said when talking about her husband, Carl Sagan.

“When my husband died, because he was so famous & known for not being a believer, many people would come up to me — it still sometimes happens — & ask me if Carl changed at the end & converted to a belief in an afterlife. They also frequently ask me if I think I will see him again.

Carl faced his death with unflagging courage & never sought refuge in illusions. The tragedy was that we knew we would never see each other again. I don’t ever expect to be reunited with Carl. But, the great thing is that when we were together, for nearly twenty years, we lived with a vivid appreciation of how brief & precious life is. We never trivialized the meaning of death by pretending it was anything other than a final parting. Every single moment that we were alive & we were together was miraculous — not miraculous in the sense of inexplicable or supernatural. We knew we were beneficiaries of chance… That pure chance could be so generous & so kind… That we could find each other, as Carl wrote so beautifully in Cosmos, you know, in the vastness of space & the immensity of time… That we could be together for twenty years. That is something which sustains me & it’s much more meaningful…

The way he treated me & the way I treated him, the way we took care of each other & our family, while he lived. That is so much more important than the idea I will see him someday. I don’t think I’ll ever see Carl again. But I saw him. We saw each other. We found each other in the cosmos, and that was wonderful.”

It resonates with me so completely and is how Peter and I feel about each other. We were beneficiaries of chance. A wonderful and kind bit of chance.

Yet another reminder to drink up this rich life and be grateful for the really amazing things in your life. Big and small.

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Click

Click

This picture was taken a few years ago in Asheville, NC. I recently found it in a pile of photos I need to frame or file or…something.

My in-laws’ friend, Becky, has a charming property she named Rhodallen outside of Asheville. It’s on a little lake. The kids love to take this, (whatever it’s called…flotilla? raft? tiny barge?) out on the lake and look for critters. Peter and I took it out one afternoon and his sister snapped this picture. It is one of my favorites.

Peter is explaining something to me. What he was explaining I forget, but I’m sure it was something geeky and complicated. (hence the claw left hand) My head is cocked listening to him.

This picture perfectly encapsulates how I feel about us. On the same team, working our way through life together.

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Thursday Loves

Thursday Loves

+ Trolling online for all of the goodies regarding Fashion Week. It would be so fun to be there! Of course, I would be the one in GAP jeans and a long sleeved black tee.

+ Hadley loves listening to books on CD while drawing in her room. We’ve checked out ALL of the Ramona series and guess who narrates every single one? Stockard Channing. It’s divine. I often find myself wandering into HJ’s room when it’s on and staying awhile.

+ Caprese salads with my own tomatoes

+ My excitement over getting Jonathan Franzen’s new book, Freedom. I listened to an interview on Fresh Air today and it made me giddy. It doesn’t take much to get me going. I’m kind of a goob that way.

+ Dreaming about our trip to Sayulita in January with my besties and fams. Yes, please.

                    

                                      picture from Under The Pyramids

+ Skeletons are always fascinating to me. They’re beautiful. H is on a mission to collect skulls. So far we have a beaver skull and a mouse skull. On our mantel. Yup. We’re those people.

+ Peter. Always. Pure and simple.

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love note

love note

Peter isn’t romantic in the traditional sense of the word. I have to remember that when my brother-in-law V does something swoon worthy for my sister. (he’s good.)

He IS romantic, though, in a delightful, surprising way. I have come to appreciate that over the years. I now know it’s the little things every day that make my life sweet, not grand gestures. (Although, it must be said, there have been lovely grand gestures as well.)

Case in point:

While out of town last week he sent me a email with “a word for you” in the subject line.

The word?

UXORIOUS

I had to look it up.

It means “excessively fond of or submissive to a wife”

I found it incredibly romantic and like to say the word out loud. I also like to pretend he had the word commissioned just for me.

pic from weheartit.com

Happy weekend, lovers.

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how to be alone

how to be alone

Peter has been traveling a lot lately. He works from home so when he’s gone and the kids are at school, it is, as Bjork would say, “oh so quiet.”

And I love it. I really really love to be alone. It fuels me. Sometimes I find myself smiling for no reason. I’m always surprised at people who won’t go anywhere by themselves. A movie. Dinner. Exploring. Anywhere. Don’t get me wrong, I love being social as well, it’s just a delicate balance. I can’t enjoy one without the other. I NEED to be alone or I can’t function.

I found this video absolutely breathtaking and inspiring. I love everything about it. It is aptly titled “how to be alone.”

Enjoy.

          

                                                   found via dailypoetics

I hesitate sometimes to write about how I’m feeling physically because who really cares, right? No one wants to hear the daily blathering of a sick girl.

However, it soothes me if I put it down somewhere. Take it from my brain where the pain makes me feel crazy and like I somehow made it up. Sort of like if you have a host of things to do swimming in your head, write them down and it will free up space and energy. You, readers, are my sounding board, so thank you.

I’m down to the minimum of my pain meds and my body is well aware. I am exhausted and so achy that the stairs are my enemy. The stomach problems persist. MOTHERF*CK. I just can’t win.

Husband flew home today and we snuck in a nap before the kids got home from school, which was a cozy highlight of the day.

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