Wedding over.
I survived.
Hope they are happy.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Monday, July 13, 2009
Wedding Bells
Rush, rush, rush. That’s what this week is going to be. We leave on Wednesday for Washington DC for The Wedding. The one where I had to buy my “Matron of Honor” (can that sound any more frumpy?) dress, buy my silver strappy sandals, the one that is costing $350 a ticket to fly across the country, the one that is costing $180 ( or so) a night for a hotel room, the one that that I’m not paying over $100 to get my hair done, the one that The Husband is not going to pay $130 to play golf the day before, the one where The Groom, Mr.Buzzkill, was “concerned about the quality of the dress” I bought for The Little Miss.
This is the wedding of a friend of mine who I have known for about 15 years. I love her dearly. But sadly she is not the person I have known. When she met Mr.Buzzkill she was involved in a book club. Today, no. Why? Because he didn’t like some of the girls in the group. When I ask her for book recommendations, she can’t tell me the last book she read. Why? Because Mr.Buzzkill likes to watch TV all the time (even in bed at night) and she can’t read when it’s on. When she wanted to join a gym… no. Because he wanted her to go across town to work out at the gym at his office building. When she wanted to apply for an opening in her company that wouldn’t net her more money but would give her more experience, no. Because, he didn’t like the idea of her changing jobs if more money wasn’t involved. The one who use to go to the movies, all the time. Now? No, because he doesn’t like to go. Shopping or lunching with her girlfriends? No. Not unless Mr.Buzzkill has other things planned for himself. If he doesn’t, he doesn’t want her to leave him. It’s all too freakish. This is a friend that if we met today, I just don’t know if we’d have much in common.
I’m not sure where our friendship will be in a year or two or ten. We are not nearly as close as we were a couple of years ago, before Mr. Buzzkill came into her life. And I understand all that. Priorities shift. There’s now a new person in the mix. That’s all fine and good. But when so much about her has changed, it’s hard for me to wrap my brain around it. It’s hard for me to watch my friend, who was so strong and dynamic, fold at every corner to his whim. “Why give in?” I asked her once. “Because it’s easier,” she said. That made my heart sink.
But as I’m there this week putting on my happy face for her, I also have to remember, this is also the wedding of a friend of mine who I have known for about 15 years and I’ve never seen her so happy. I don’t understand the dynamics. It’s not my job to. It’s her relationship and she’s happy. He’s happy. They are happy. I’m not sure if this is forever happy, but I wish them well and all the blessing in the world.
This is the wedding of a friend of mine who I have known for about 15 years. I love her dearly. But sadly she is not the person I have known. When she met Mr.Buzzkill she was involved in a book club. Today, no. Why? Because he didn’t like some of the girls in the group. When I ask her for book recommendations, she can’t tell me the last book she read. Why? Because Mr.Buzzkill likes to watch TV all the time (even in bed at night) and she can’t read when it’s on. When she wanted to join a gym… no. Because he wanted her to go across town to work out at the gym at his office building. When she wanted to apply for an opening in her company that wouldn’t net her more money but would give her more experience, no. Because, he didn’t like the idea of her changing jobs if more money wasn’t involved. The one who use to go to the movies, all the time. Now? No, because he doesn’t like to go. Shopping or lunching with her girlfriends? No. Not unless Mr.Buzzkill has other things planned for himself. If he doesn’t, he doesn’t want her to leave him. It’s all too freakish. This is a friend that if we met today, I just don’t know if we’d have much in common.
I’m not sure where our friendship will be in a year or two or ten. We are not nearly as close as we were a couple of years ago, before Mr. Buzzkill came into her life. And I understand all that. Priorities shift. There’s now a new person in the mix. That’s all fine and good. But when so much about her has changed, it’s hard for me to wrap my brain around it. It’s hard for me to watch my friend, who was so strong and dynamic, fold at every corner to his whim. “Why give in?” I asked her once. “Because it’s easier,” she said. That made my heart sink.
But as I’m there this week putting on my happy face for her, I also have to remember, this is also the wedding of a friend of mine who I have known for about 15 years and I’ve never seen her so happy. I don’t understand the dynamics. It’s not my job to. It’s her relationship and she’s happy. He’s happy. They are happy. I’m not sure if this is forever happy, but I wish them well and all the blessing in the world.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Raise Your Glasses, Let's Toast!
A while back I admitted I had a problem. A drinking problem. A problem that found me on too many nights drinking too much. A problem that made me wake up in the morning feeling like crap. I was drinking a couple glasses a night, and on many occasions much more than that. If we had friends over, I’d find a couple empty wine bottles in the trash. Often times, it was much more than that.
I made a conscious decision to change that behavior. I had to. On so many levels, it wasn’t good for me. I didn’t like what I was showing The Little Miss and I didn’t like having to try and piece the blank holes in my memory back together. It started out slow, but before I knew it, I was drinking every night, looking forward to the hour when I thought it was acceptable to open the bottle.
That hour now passes without notice. I still have an occasional glass of wine. It’s not something I need every night. It’s not even something I crave or even think of every night. I still love having my wine and I think I love it more than ever because now, it’s a special occasion. It’s a happy occasion. It’s no longer one ending into a spiral of darkness.
In the 38 days or so since I made the change in my life, I have probably saved about $400 in wine and a a lot more in calories. Both of those are great but what is even better is I feel so much human. I feel so much more alive. I have more energy. I’m more vibrant. And really that's what I need with a 3 year old running me ragged everyday.
So, let’s toast to not drinking so much!
I made a conscious decision to change that behavior. I had to. On so many levels, it wasn’t good for me. I didn’t like what I was showing The Little Miss and I didn’t like having to try and piece the blank holes in my memory back together. It started out slow, but before I knew it, I was drinking every night, looking forward to the hour when I thought it was acceptable to open the bottle.
That hour now passes without notice. I still have an occasional glass of wine. It’s not something I need every night. It’s not even something I crave or even think of every night. I still love having my wine and I think I love it more than ever because now, it’s a special occasion. It’s a happy occasion. It’s no longer one ending into a spiral of darkness.
In the 38 days or so since I made the change in my life, I have probably saved about $400 in wine and a a lot more in calories. Both of those are great but what is even better is I feel so much human. I feel so much more alive. I have more energy. I’m more vibrant. And really that's what I need with a 3 year old running me ragged everyday.
So, let’s toast to not drinking so much!
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Food Comes From Farms, Not Factories
As parents, we spend an inordinate amount of time talking about what kinds of foods our kids are eating or rather what kinds of foods they are still won’t eat. There’s cookbook after cookbook about how to sneak veggies into your kids without them knowing. My approach is I keep trying and trying and eventually, something will click and what do you know, The Little Miss is taking bites of something green and healthy. Do I wish it wasn’t such a struggle? Yes. Do I wish she would eat more vegetables? Yes. Do I wish she ate less Mac and Cheese? Yes. But does she eat really well? Yes. Very well. Very healthy and as much whole foods and organic as I can afford.
For the past several weeks, every Tuesday, after picking The Little Miss up from school, we go to our local farmer’s market and pick out our fresh produce for the week. She can’t wait to pick out an apple or nectarine and walks though the stalls with me. She gets to make choices. She picks fruit out and will find them washed and portioned out in her lunch box for the week. She gets excited about what she finds and shares stories with her friends. It’s a fun learning experience and she now knows that food comes from farms and not factories.
Is it more expensive than going to a supermarket? Yes and no. Dollar wise, it probably is. But the cost to the environment, it doesn’t even compare. Carbon footprints on food at the farmer’s market is low. We are getting food basically grown within a 50 mile (or in most cases much less) radius of our home, so transportation cost is minimal. There isn’t any packaging. You pick produce and fruit right out of bins so no plastic bags, no containers. We’re supporting our local farmers who work so hard. It’s not easy to work. It’s back breaking and they are so reliant on factors you can’t control. Bugs, fungus, weather.
The smells fill the air with sweetness. The colors burst. I feel alive and motivated to eat better.
This is what food is suppose to be. Fresh. Colorful. Inspiring.
For the past several weeks, every Tuesday, after picking The Little Miss up from school, we go to our local farmer’s market and pick out our fresh produce for the week. She can’t wait to pick out an apple or nectarine and walks though the stalls with me. She gets to make choices. She picks fruit out and will find them washed and portioned out in her lunch box for the week. She gets excited about what she finds and shares stories with her friends. It’s a fun learning experience and she now knows that food comes from farms and not factories.
Is it more expensive than going to a supermarket? Yes and no. Dollar wise, it probably is. But the cost to the environment, it doesn’t even compare. Carbon footprints on food at the farmer’s market is low. We are getting food basically grown within a 50 mile (or in most cases much less) radius of our home, so transportation cost is minimal. There isn’t any packaging. You pick produce and fruit right out of bins so no plastic bags, no containers. We’re supporting our local farmers who work so hard. It’s not easy to work. It’s back breaking and they are so reliant on factors you can’t control. Bugs, fungus, weather.
The smells fill the air with sweetness. The colors burst. I feel alive and motivated to eat better.
This is what food is suppose to be. Fresh. Colorful. Inspiring.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Blink
The cursor on my screen has been blinking at me since Monday. I’m drawing a blank. Nothing new to say. It’s frustrating.
Blink.
Blink.
Blink.
Where are the words that usually flow? Come hither. Come play. Come dance off my finger tips.
Blink.
Blink.
Blink.
Maybe tomorrow.
Blink.
Blink.
Blink.
Where are the words that usually flow? Come hither. Come play. Come dance off my finger tips.
Blink.
Blink.
Blink.
Maybe tomorrow.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Building Sandcastles
It’s really funny how life unfolds. On Friday The Little Miss and I went to the beach with a couple of my friends. What’s really nice is that my friends, both of whom I have been friends with for over 10 years, both have daughters within 2 ½ years of The Little Miss. All three girls go to the same preschool. A preschool that has a total of 6 children enrolled. My friends and I are all of “advanced maternal age” and we were just marveling at how, at this point of our lives, all three of us ended up as moms.
My friends fought hard to be moms. Between the two of them, I’ve witnessed 7 miscarriages. Each time, a very sad occasion and as the years passed, it became more and more unlikely that either would become moms. Then 4 years ago, the first of us had a pregnancy that stuck. The baby came early and fought to be here, but a fighter she was. Then me, the fertile one. The one who got pregnant, right off the bat. I had been on birth control for nearly 2o years and within 2 months of going off the pill, I got myself knocked up.
I remember the last of the three of us, still motherless, who by this time had had 4 miscarriages, came by my house and handed me a bag of maternity clothes. Bravely congratulating me and holding back her tears.
“I don’t think I’ll be needing these” she said as she handed me the clothes. It was as if she was not only giving me the clothes, but passing on her neatly folded dreams and hopes.
I was speechless. What could I say? I was overwhelmed by her thoughtfulness. I wrapped my arms around her, we hugged tight and I listened, as the tears fell. I wished I could give her what I had. What she wanted so badly.
Three months later, I gave her back those clothes.
“I think you’ll be needing these,” I said.
Fast forward 3 years and as unlikely and impossible as it seemed, all 6 of us were at the beach building sandcastles and dreams for our future.
My friends fought hard to be moms. Between the two of them, I’ve witnessed 7 miscarriages. Each time, a very sad occasion and as the years passed, it became more and more unlikely that either would become moms. Then 4 years ago, the first of us had a pregnancy that stuck. The baby came early and fought to be here, but a fighter she was. Then me, the fertile one. The one who got pregnant, right off the bat. I had been on birth control for nearly 2o years and within 2 months of going off the pill, I got myself knocked up.
I remember the last of the three of us, still motherless, who by this time had had 4 miscarriages, came by my house and handed me a bag of maternity clothes. Bravely congratulating me and holding back her tears.
“I don’t think I’ll be needing these” she said as she handed me the clothes. It was as if she was not only giving me the clothes, but passing on her neatly folded dreams and hopes.
I was speechless. What could I say? I was overwhelmed by her thoughtfulness. I wrapped my arms around her, we hugged tight and I listened, as the tears fell. I wished I could give her what I had. What she wanted so badly.
Three months later, I gave her back those clothes.
“I think you’ll be needing these,” I said.
Fast forward 3 years and as unlikely and impossible as it seemed, all 6 of us were at the beach building sandcastles and dreams for our future.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Get Your DVR's Ready
Speaking of hearting things, I’m looking forward to watching Ruby again. I got caught up on a marathon of it a while back and was so charmed by her. She’s a real person with real struggles, check it out. Starts today.
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